THE DARK QUEEN
The Magician - Book Three
by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and
Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com)
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See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files
belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the
remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996.
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Chapter Seventeen
So - they had succeeded. Her worst fears had been realized.
That moronic rodent had failed her miserably. With an effort she
quelled the anger, the frustration. She could not afford to squander
the energy she would soon require in such abundance. The Dark
Queen sat in her monstrous armchair, feet resting on the footstool in
front of her, and willed herself to relax.
Two Blue Mages, now in concert. She could hope that the
older one would not reveal what he knew, would not unravel the ties
that bound the secret to her possible destruction. She could hope.
But she was not one to trust in fortune, which had deserted her so
often in her life. More importantly than hope, she would plan. She
allowed her mind to drift, the thoughts washing over her.
The troll was a nothing, a nonentity she could dispose of
with a simple spell, perhaps even a thought. The girl - now, she was
intriguing, a pretty thing with something about her that commanded
respect. But in the end, also easily destroyed. The woman who also
dressed as a warrior. The Dark Queen's eyes narrowed. What was
her business in this? Never far from the side of the Mage, who
seemed to treat her as an equal, the few times she had observed
them. Interesting. Her brows furrowed in thought. No, more
disturbing than interesting. A puzzle. She sighed impatiently. She
was uncomfortable with puzzles. She fully appreciated that
knowledge of her enemy was the key to success. Puzzles represented
the unknown, and as such, were to be feared.
Up until this point, she had been sparing in her use of the
sphere to track the travelers. That was a mistake, she now admitted
to herself. Although using the sphere to promote the hatred and
bloodshed she craved had been rewarding, now it seemed that some
of that time would have been better spent in discovering the answers
she lacked. For the first time, she regretted her inability to read
auras. True, the young Mage's aura would have been visible to a
blind man, especially when he was using his impressive powers.
But the auras of the others remained a mystery to her.
She shifted in her seat, feeling the frustration rise once
again. She would have been better off abducting an elf - at least that
miserable sort of being would have been useful. Her plan to use the
fool Drellor had failed totally. In the beginning it had seemed that
he would be the perfect stooge, a fount of valuable information. A
dried-up fount, as it turned out, she thought darkly. Her lips curled
in contempt. Spiriting that spineless imbecile from his cell had been
a complete waste of effort. Then her mouth drew back in a feral
smile. No, he would yet serve a purpose, she promised herself with
a shiver of anticipation.
She did not hunger, which served her well. The violence,
once started, fed both itself and her. None of her precious energy
had to be diverted merely to satisfy her craving for spilled blood.
Just as well. Every bit of her strength would be needed later if she
were to fulfill her dream of vengeance. And fulfill it she would.
But now to regain her concentration, to rid herself of this nagging,
distracting sense of frustration, preferably with as little expenditure
of energy as possible.
She did not dare to take her mood out on the Mage and his
party - not now, not yet. But she wanted her enemies to hurt, just as
she had been hurt. In the fullness of time, they would surely suffer
as no beings had ever suffered before them. But what to do now to
cheer herself, to relieve the stress, so she could devote herself to
planning?
Idly, she prodded the hematite sphere with a scarlet-taloned
finger and a smile slowly curved the edges of her mouth. How were
things back at Fairwoods? Certainly she must be able to find some
way to reach the catharsis she hungered for.
Using a minimum of energy, she cupped the sphere in her
palms and muttered the words which would bring her vision. As the
images coalesced in her mind, she rapidly scanned those who were
most closely allied with this Mage Mulder. Reinald...no, he would
require far too much energy. So would the Captain of the Guard
and his half-breed wife. Their child - an involuntary shudder shook
through the Dark Queen. There was something strange, frightening,
powerful about that child. Another puzzle. In the tiny form was a
force which must be converted to her side. Or eliminated. She
made a mental note. Once she took over and Fairwoods lay in
smoking ruins, the child would either follow her or be destroyed.
She continued to scan, her scarlet-flecked eyes lighting up as she
saw an opportunity.
The old healer. There was only a candle's worth of strength
there. So easy to extinguish, scarcely an effort at all. She smiled
broadly. The grief of her enemies was almost as sweet a dish as
bloodshed. She would have her revenge after all.
- - - - -
"That's it - just one more spoonful," coaxed Kyla.
Corvay grimaced, but did as he was bidden and swallowed
the broth. "I don't know why you're bothering. We both know I'm
dying."
"You seem stronger the last couple of days, Healer. And
you have much more to teach me. You can't die yet. I won't let
you." She turned quickly, less to clear up the remains of the meal
than to hide her tear-filled eyes.
"Just like a woman," grumbled Corvay, settling back onto
the pillow. He knew that any strength perceived had merely been
wishful thinking on Kyla's part. Ah, she was a good child - cursed
good healer, too. But he was tired, useless, too weak to practice his
art. The Next World was waiting, and he was ready.
"Would you like me to read to you, Healer, before your last
treatment for the night?" Once again, Kyla had regained her
apparent serenity.
"No, Healer Kyla.... I just want to sleep." Shivering a little,
his frail fingers plucked ineffectively at the covers.
She leaned over and drew the bedclothes up to his chin.
"Not before your treatment, Healer," she said kindly but firmly.
He sighed, not having the strength to argue the point.
"Very well...." He knew time was short for him, and there were
some things he wanted said before his Last Journey. This quiet time
with just the two of them seemed like the perfect opportunity.
Hesitantly, his voice creaked, "You know, Kyla, I'm very proud of
you.... Of all my apprentices, you have learned the most... and
served me the best.... I have recommended that Andalor appoint you
Court Healer when I am gone." At her exclamation of protest, he
shook his head weakly. "It is done. Young Andalor will soon have
a wife.... Soon after, children, Goddess be willing.... I can think of
no one better to see to the Royal Family's needs...."
Tears glistening in her eyes, Kyla whispered, "None of that
now, Healer. With some rest and enough healing, you can care for
them yourself."
Corvay's lips twitched into a tiny smile. "We both know
that's not true, child.... Very well, get on with your treatment," he
said, knowing it would do more to soothe her mind than to halt the
process that was inexorably drawing his life to a close.
She placed cool fingers to his temples as he closed his eyes.
Entering his body and mind as a healer, she saw that he was correct.
It was a matter of days now. She eased his discomfort as best she
could and was preparing to withdraw when suddenly something
felt...wrong. This was not the normal process of death; this was
different. She looked into the frail form, trying desperately to find
the source. She was met with a sensation of blackness, of void, of
vacuum, coming not from within the tired body of the healer, but
from without. The suffocating blackness was a living presence,
forcing its way into the old being, choking, crushing. Gasping, she
tried to fight it, to banish it from the body and mind of the old
healer. But he was too worn to struggle for life, and his chest rose
no more. Grief-stricken, she tried to withdraw from the lifeless
form, but the blackness was too strong, sucking at her own life-force
now. Somewhere far in the distance she heard a knocking sound.
She opened her mouth to call for help, but no sound emerged.
Further and further she felt herself being drawn into the blackness,
into the void, and away from all that was clean and good and bright.
She collapsed to her knees, eyes squeezed shut, lungs fighting for
air.
- - - - -
He stood, puzzled, at the door. Surely Kyla and the Royal
Healer were inside, he could hear noises. Perhaps Kyla was in the
middle of a healing treatment and could not answer. She would not
mind if... Tentatively, Pitir pressed the latch and swung the door
open. His eyes widened in horror. "Kyla! Goddess, no!" He turned
his head and yelled out into the courtyard. "Guards! Bring help,
bring Mage Reinald!" Heart pounding, he darted into the cottage to
the healer's side, and pulled her hands from Corvay's body.
Senseless, Kyla sank to the floor, her head cradled in Pitir's arms.
Moments later, Jourdain and Aldara rushed into the little
cottage, followed by Reinald a few moments later. A cluster of
guards stood outside, awaiting orders. The Mage recoiled at the
stench of the Black Arts, which filled the room. "What happened?"
he demanded.
Pitir looked up from Kyla's inert form, stunned. "Mage, I
was coming to check on Healer Corvay as you instructed. There was
no answer to my knock, but I heard strange noises from inside, so I
opened the door. Kyla was collapsed over the healer, her hands still
placed as if for a healing treatment, but it was as if she were frozen
there. It took all my strength to pull her hands away." He hesitated,
then said, "Mage, Healer Corvay has gone on to the Next World."
Reinald approached the still form of his friend, laying his
hand briefly on the old healer's head, squeezing back the tears that
threatened to fall. He offered up a prayer to the Goddess to look
after the feisty elf in the Next World, then let his hand fall limply to
his side. In a tight voice, he said, "Healer Corvay was murdered."
His words rocked his friends, assembled in the tiny room.
"What? Surely you're not suggesting that Kyla-" began
Jourdain, horrified.
The Mage shook his head wearily. "No, of course not." He
reached for a nearby armchair and lowered himself heavily into it.
"Black magic has been at work here. It has stolen our trusted friend
away from us. And if Kyla was in a healing trance with him when it
happened, I know not what its effects on her might be."
Pitir smoothed the heavy flaxen hair back from Kyla's pale,
still face. She felt cold to his touch. "Mage Reinald, perhaps if we
could get her comfortable, warm her...."
"Yes, yes by all means. Bring her into the keep, where she
may be attended to closely. Put her in Shannon's room for now."
He stopped, gazing at the empty shell who had been his friend, who
had been such a force in life.
"Don't worry, Reinald. I'll prepare him myself," said
Aldara gently. Corvay's body would have to be washed and
shrouded in a precise manner according to ancient custom before the
funeral took place.
Reinald nodded mutely, but his eyes reflected gratitude.
Aldara would perform the ritual with the love and respect that
Corvay had earned. Guards were summoned to carry Kyla's limp
form across the courtyard to the keep, closely followed by an anxious
Pitir. The Mage stood and looked towards the door. "Jourdain,
we'll meet in my chambers in a candlemark. I need...some time
alone right now."
The grizzled warrior looked with sympathy and affection
on his friend, and followed him out of the little cottage, leaving
Aldara to her task.
- - - - -
A candlemark later, a solemn assemblage sat beside
Reinald's hearth, chilled in a way no fire could warm. Tarnor and
the Professor had joined the group who came from the cottage.
Aldara was the last to arrive.
"Corvay has been prepared for the Last Journey, Mage.
The High Priestess, Anatha, herself, assisted me! She stands watch
over him, praying to the Goddess for his safe passage into the Next
World."
"His pyre is being constructed by my guards, overseen by
another priestess," added Jourdain. "All will be ready for the
Leaving Ceremony tomorrow."
"Thank you, my friends," Reinald said quietly. "It appears
the only comfort we have now is in honoring the memory of the
Court Healer, performing the rituals.... But little comfort it is."
Aldara nodded. "How's Kyla?"
"Healer Sirisa is with her now," replied Pitir. "She says
that Kyla's life-force is dangerously low, but she has no idea what
caused it." The Mage-apprentice sadly returned to making tea.
Kyla was his only real friend, and the object of a powerful
adolescent crush. Her collapse was hitting the little troll very hard.
"Reinald, I know now may not seem like the time to discuss
this. But I would not be doing my job if I didn't tell you that
Corvay's murder has me very disturbed," Jourdain said, frowning
into his tea mug. "Not only because we have lost our friend, but
because of what you discerned in his cottage."
"Black magic?"
He nodded. "Reinald, think about it. If a Black Mage can
reach in and take our friend from our midst, how safe is any one of
us?"
The enormity of the problem came to the Mage in a flash of
recognition. "By the Goddess, you're right, Jourdain," he breathed,
shaken. "My emotions about Corvay's death must have blinded me.
The king - he above all must be protected!"
"As if things aren't in a big enough mess right now, with
villagers at each other's throats, and the Royal Houses stirring up
trouble.... Now this." Tarnor shook his large gray head, the
leathery skin of his brow furrowing. "Reinald, there must be
something we can do. What about communicating with Mulder and
Scully through the Oracle Cloud?"
Reinald sighed. "I thought of that. But to what purpose?
Telling them of our friend's passing will just upset them, especially
Warrior Healer Scully. And when Mage Mulder learns of the
cause...." He shook his head, his white hair and beard bobbing.
"No, I dare not distract them right now. They are very headstrong
and courageous, perhaps too much so. Especially Mulder, who
tends to act as much based on his heart as on his head at times. If
they feel our urgency, they may take too great a risk and put
themselves in greater danger. We can only hope that they are
nearing their objective, that they are close to finding Hannu and are
pursuing the answers we need. If things become worse, we will
contact them. For now, I would prefer to wait."
"I agree," said the Professor grimly. "And if they haven't
reached Hannu, there isn't much they'll be able to do about our
situation anyway. The trip back to Fairwoods would take too long."
Neumann smiled sadly. "Also, I must say, I really don't have the
heart to hear if they have not reached their objective. Or worse, if
they have evidence that Hannu not longer exists. My hope in them
and their mission is all that keeps this situation from being
intolerable."
"Aye, there's that," Jourdain replied, heavily. "All right,
what can we do to protect ourselves from an unseen enemy who
appears to have unlimited power?" He glanced over at Reinald, who
appeared deep in thought, staring into the distance. Then the Mage
shook himself, and looked at his companions with a new sense of
purpose.
"Tarnor, what are your plans for the next several days?"
Reinald asked, tension plain in his voice.
"I'm at your disposal, of course, Mage. You have an idea?"
"I can't do it alone. In fact, I'm not certain I can do it at
all," he said with an apologetic smile. "What I propose is trying to
construct a shield for the keep. This has never been done, but I
think, theoretically, it can be. An extension of the personal
protection spell," he explained to Tarnor. "It would have to be
renewed frequently, and would take an enormous amount of power."
Tarnor looked the Mage directly in the eyes. For several
moments, there seemed to be a silent conversation that took place
between them. "Yes, I see," he said slowly. "We would have to
move everyone we could into the castle."
Reinald agreed. "Jourdain, I want you and Aldara and your
daughter to move in immediately. Make arrangements for Lord
Mandor and his family also - we can't have the future queen's
parents targeted by our enemy. They can join Livirnea in the
quarters she has been using. Handpick your best guards and have
them take positions in and around the keep. The security of the king
must be the first priority. The Realm is hanging by a thread, and
only Andalor's presence is preventing a total collapse into anarchy
and chaos."
"You are no less important, Reinald," Aldara stated firmly.
"If anything happens to you, we lose what protection we have."
"We will cast the spell in the king's quarters. Its effects
will be strongest there. Aldara, find quarters for your family near
his, which will afford the most protection. Your daughter must also
be guarded closely. She seems to have more insight into our enemy -
this "dark lady" of her dreams - than anyone at the moment. Have
beds moved into reception rooms if necessary. And don't worry,
Aldara, my quarters will also have sufficient protection," Reinald
said. "This may not work; even if it does, it may not be strong
enough to withstand a concerted effort against us by our enemy. But
it's the only thing we can do until we hear from Mulder and Scully."
Jourdain and Aldara stood. "We'll see to it right away,
Mage Reinald." The door shut behind them.
"If I can be of any help...?" Professor Neumann offered.
"Just like old times, eh?" smiled Reinald. "Thank you,
Gunther. I'd like you to work with Tarnor and myself. We will need
to find a way to enhance the protection spell to cover more area and
more beings than it was ever meant to cover. Between your science
and our magic, we may find a way to keep everyone safe for now.
Pitir, help the Professor bring any equipment he needs here." The
tall, gaunt human and the stocky troll left on their errand.
The two Mages surveyed each other quietly. Finally,
Reinald said, "I appreciate your not being your usual candid self
with our friends. I hesitate even to ask you to help with this - you
know what it could mean better than anyone else."
"I understand, Reinald. We will be using an untested spell
of enormous power. The danger to the both of us is obvious, the risk
of failure is too high, the chance of success lower than we would
choose. At best, it will leave both of us seriously drained." His
mouth opened into a pointy-toothed grin. "When do we start?"
Reinald looked with affection at the gargoyle. "Again you
prove your seemingly limitless courage."
Tarnor laughed, and waved dismissively. "Or
foolhardiness. But have we really any choice? What's our
alternative - to sit here as a Black Mage picks us off, one by one?
And turns our land into a battlefield? No. 'No way,' as Andalor
would say. Reinald, we can only hope that Mulder and Scully
complete their mission successfully, and work as hard as we can to
keep everything safe until they return."
The older Mage nodded. "But unless the Professor can
come up with a miracle, even if the spell works we will not be able
to sustain it for more than a week or so. We could be more than
'seriously drained' by this, Tarnor." He looked at the gargoyle
meaningfully.
"I know," he said softly. "So be it."
- - - - -
Andalor stopped abruptly in the hall. He had been on the
battlements, looking out on his troubled kingdom and wishing the
one person who could make him feel better were by his side.
Finally, after staring out over the darkened forest and sleeping
village for more than a candlemark, he sighed and descended the
winding stone staircase. He was on his way to Reinald's quarters
when he heard noises coming from Shannon's chamber. Heart
pounding, feeling a lightening of his mood, he tapped and pushed
open the heavy wooden door in the same movement.
"Shannon! You're ba-" The king stopped dead. A
troubled, middle-aged woman in the brown robes of a healer stood
next to the high Realm bed. His chest constricted painfully.
Goddess, something had happened to Shannon! He was halfway
across the room before he noticed that the still form in the bed was
not the dark-tressed Shannon, but Kyla. He took a moment to
compose himself. He had gone from exhilaration to terrible
disappointment to terror in the space of a single breath. When he
was sure he could trust his voice, he said, "I beg your pardon, Healer
Sirisa. I thought for a moment Shannon had returned. But what
has happened to Kyla?"
The woman merely shook her head slowly. "Your Majesty,
I would urge you to see Mage Reinald. There has been...a tragedy."
Andalor's violet eyes stared at the woman. Goddess -
Mulder and Scully and Shannon! They must have been lost, killed
on their journey to save his Realm. Why else would this chamber be
used by another? Choking back a sob, he turned and ran blindly
from the room, the echo of his pounding feet reverberating through
the stone corridors all the way to Reinald's quarters. Pale, sweating,
he skidded to a halt as Tarnor was emerging from the Mage's
chamber. "Tell me what has happened," he demanded. "I must
know!"
Tarnor turned questioning eyes to the Mage. Surely Corvay
had been beloved, but he had not expected the king to be this
distraught by the old healer's death. "Healer Corvay died this night,
Andalor. He was killed by the Black Arts. And Kyla has been
effected in some way."
The young man stared blankly at the gargoyle and his
former guardian. "Corvay? Corvay...Kyla... But what about....?"
They returned his blank stare. Suddenly he began to tremble and
reached out to the doorway to steady himself, his knees weak.
"Wait! Your Majesty, what's wrong? Tarnor, help me get
him to a chair, I think he's about to faint!" The two Mages half-
carried, half-dragged the young man to one of the armchairs by the
hearth. Tarnor made up a restorative brew while Reinald fanned the
face of the semi-conscious king, feeling helpless. Within moments,
the young man's color improved a little and he began to stir.
"I'm sorry, Andalor, I had no idea you would take the news
of Corvay's death this hard. Granted, we knew life was slowly
leaving him, but to have been murdered in this way...."
"What?"
Patiently, Reinald repeated, "Corvay was murdered. By the
same enemy who is turning our beings against one another. And by
the same means - black magic. I thought you knew . I thought that
was why you were so upset." Reinald took a seat and motioned for
Tarnor to do so as well.
The young man sat, his mind reeling. "No. No, I didn't
know. Healer Sirisa said merely that there had been a tragedy and I
needed to see you, but she was in Shannon's room, and Kyla was
there, and I thought..."
The three sat in stunned silence for several moments. "If
you'll excuse me, Reinald, Your Majesty," Tarnor said, rising. "I'll
just go...um...help the Professor with his things." He left the two
alone for what he knew would be a talk they would prefer to keep
private.
The old Mage nodded. "Thank you, Tarnor." Turning to
the king, he said gently, "You thought Shannon was the one in the
bed, that she'd been hurt."
"Dead," Andalor replied dully. "I thought she was dead. I
thought they all were." His voice caught and he struggled to keep
his emotions under some semblance of control.
Reinald stood and walked to a window, looking out until
the young man had recovered. His back still turned to the king, he
murmured, "I'm so sorry, Andalor. I knew that you had some
feelings for Shannon, but I was hoping this separation would have
perhaps caused them to fade. I didn't know they were so strong."
The young man laughed bitterly. "Neither did I. I knew I
felt something, but.... When I thought she was...gone - Goddess,
Reinald, I felt I wanted to die myself!"
"Well, rest easy on that score. As far as I know, Shannon is
fine. I haven't heard from Mulder so I can only assume things are
proceeding as planned." He was silent for several long moments.
"Little wonder you resisted the betrothal. I thought you just resented
our way of doing things, your duty to the Realm once again
interfering with your wishes. I owe you a huge apology, Andalor."
He shook his head. "As I said, Reinald, I wasn't sure of
how I felt until tonight. And it still doesn't change anything, does
it?"
"No, I'm afraid not," Reinald replied bleakly. "But two
season-cycles is a long time - much may happen."
"That's what Livirnea and I are hoping."
"Livirnea? She doesn't want to marry you?" The Mage
turned, incredulous, and sat again at the king's side.
"She doesn't want to marry anyone, not at the moment
anyway. She wants to study. By the way, I've been meaning to ask
you if we could get the Professor to give her lessons. She's very
intelligent, Reinald. I think she would make an excellent scientist
someday." He smiled at his former guardian, who stared dejectedly
into the fire. "You didn't do as badly as you may think. Livirnea is a
wonderful person, and we're becoming good friends. But I will
never feel about her as I do about Shannon."
"And how does Shannon feel about you?"
"I don't know," the king admitted. "I know when we were
in Mulder's world, she thought I was a dweeb at first."
"Is a 'dweeb' a good thing?"
He laughed, his violet eyes sparkling. "No, a 'dweeb' is
definitely not a good thing." He sobered. "But just before she left, I
think we were starting to connect. Become more than just good
friends. Reinald, do you think there's any chance at all?"
"As you know, I'm fond of Shannon, I think she's a fine
young lady. But regardless of how I feel about her, I doubt if she
would ever be acceptable to the Council of Representatives, Andalor.
That would take the work of the Goddess herself. Not to mention
what Lord Mandor would do in retaliation for spurning his
daughter. I don't know. We have to get through the current crisis
first."
Andalor sighed. "I know. Announcing my betrothal didn't
seem to make a bit of difference - everyone is still trying to kill
everyone else. And now Corvay - I'm so sorry, Reinald. I know he
was your oldest friend."
"He's just always been here. Life will be very strange
without him." Reinald looked into the fire. "The Leaving Ceremony
will be tomorrow. Immediately after, Tarnor and I are going to try
to set up a shield that will protect Fairwoods Castle and everyone in
it."
"Can you do that?"
Reinald shrugged. "We have to do something. There's
nothing to prevent our enemy from using the Black Arts against any
one of us. The casting of the spell will be dangerous and rather
exhausting, Andalor. Once the spell is in place, you will not be able
to rely on me for advice. Go to Mandor should you need counsel. I
trust him." He smiled wryly. "It might be an idea if you keep your
feelings about Shannon to yourself, however."
The king nodded. "But please be careful, Reinald. I could
not bear to lose you."
"I'll be careful." For just a moment, an old hand rested on a
young one. Then the two troubled men gazed into the fire, guarding
their thoughts, their hopes, and their dreams.
- - - - -
The travelers just stared. Finally, the doubts had been
satisfied.
Hannu was slightly taller than Mulder. There was not a bit
of extra weight on his big frame. His hair, probably once dark, was
quite long and almost completely silver. His long beard and
luxurious mustache were a salt and pepper color. Unlike the
majority of Mages who carried the pallor of working indoors most of
the time, he was tanned and appeared to be in robust health.
"Mage Hannu, you don't know how good it is to see you,"
Mulder began, smiling.
The Mage nodded shortly. "Leave the horses. I'll have
someone come back for them. Follow me. It's still a long walk to
the village." He turned and began walking down the narrow path.
His tone was distant, almost cold. The bondmates
exchanged quizzical glances, then looked encouragingly at Shannon
and Jhorgab as they removed their saddlebags from their mounts.
"You heard what the man said - let's go," Scully said. "There may
even be food in it for you, Jhorgab." She smiled at them, but she
was worried. Their greeting was certainly not effusive, and for the
first time she wondered if their journey had been in vain. Yes,
against all odds, they had found Hannu - but would he help them?
They shouldered their belongings, then rushed to catch up
with Hannu, following him through the forest along a tortuous maze
of trails. Hannu moved quickly, with more grace than would be
expected in such a tall, powerfully built man. The woods were filled
with birdsong and the rustle of small animals disturbed by their
passage. Eventually, the path began to widen, less obstructed with
the surrounding underbrush and overhanging tree limbs, worn hard
and flat by generations of use. It climbed gradually, then took a
hard turn to the right. A clearing came into view, and beyond that,
a village.
Smoke rose from the chimneys of perhaps two dozen
wooden cottages, all with thatched roofs. A few residents were out
and about their business, mostly elves, but with an occasional
human. There was even one type of being new to the travelers.
Hannu came to a stop at last, surveying the quiet, well-ordered
village. "This is Montveil," he said in a deep, well-modulated voice,
then set off at a slower pace down the slope of the clearing that
surrounded the small town. Each being they encountered as they
walked along the packed earth of the road called out or waved to
Hannu, apparently comfortable in his presence, with none of the awe
that powerful Mages usually engendered. Hannu smiled and waved
back, sometimes returning their greeting in New Realm or in a
language Mulder and Scully didn't recognize. He seemed at home,
comfortable, cordial; an altogether different side to the rather remote
person who had met them in the forest.
He stopped in front of a cottage indistinguishable from the
others, aside from the fact it was set slightly apart from its
neighbors. A small vegetable garden prospered to one side of the
cottage, an herb garden to the other. Hannu opened the heavy
wooden door and ushered them inside.
"Please have a seat." He started the ubiquitous ritual of
making tea. Mulder and Scully chose armchairs placed side by side
at right angles to the hearth. Shannon chose one opposite to theirs,
and Jhorgab squatted at her feet. Scully looked around the simple
room. Gleaming copper pots and pans hung on the stone facade
over the fireplace, and handloomed rugs in brilliant colors covered
the hardwood floors. The stucco walls were whitewashed, reflecting
the light of the fire and the myriad of candles dotted around the
room. The huge bookcase that took up the far wall had caught
Mulder's notice. Scully smiled. She knew only strict Realm
etiquette prevented him from bounding over to check out the titles -
that, and the fact that she would have to bound over with him.
Throughout their walk through the forest they had maintained
physical contact, now finding it nearly impossible to do otherwise.
She stroked his arm absently and his hand, laying gently on her
knee, returned the gesture.
Hannu stole occasional glances at his guests as he went
about his task. Strange. Their auras were so strange. An extremely
powerful Mage. A woman with a dual aura, warrior and healer, a
combination he had never seen before. The two were lifebonded, if
the streaks of blue in her aura and the very faint brown-green in his
were any indication. Then there was the young, pretty girl, who had
such a commanding presence. Her aura contained touches of Mage
blue, but of a different tone than Mage Mulder's, swirled in her
warrior green aura, another rare combination. Could they be
apparitions, phantoms created by his enemy? Surely they had
passed the tests, passed them with ease. But his enemy had nearly
unlimited power. In spite of all the safeguards, could she have
created them or their strange auras to cover the telltale stain of the
Black Arts? He passed out the mugs of tea - the invigorating kind -
and seated himself in the chair to Shannon's left.
Finally, Mulder thought. Maybe now we can start getting
some answers. He cleared his throat and began. "We're here on a
twofold mission, Mage Hannu. The Realm is in serious trouble, torn
apart we believe by a Black Mage of incredible power. Throughout
our journey, we've been obstructed by the same source, with
numerous attempts on our lives. We've come to you to enlist your
help in discovering how we can stop the violence and bloodshed rife
in the Realm."
Hannu was silent for several moments, his face giving
nothing away. "Why would you come to me for that?"
Mulder's heart sank. Hannu wasn't going to help them.
All this way, this grueling journey, all the danger - for nothing. He
and Scully looked at each other, their bond communicating their
devastation. What would happen to the Realm? What would
happen to them?
Seeing their crestfallen expressions, he explained, "What I
meant was, how did you know of me? Few outside of Montveil even
know I still exist."
Relief washed over the bondmates. "It was really more
wishful thinking than anything, Mage Hannu," replied Scully. "At
least at the beginning. Our direction was determined mostly by
rumor and legend. As we got closer, however, the attempts against
our lives increased. So we reasoned that we must be on the right
track. The first time we had any proof that you actually existed was
in Peaksview. We had let it be known we were seeking you, and we
were approached by an elderly elf named Laira. She directed us to
the village Mage in Treetops, and, well, I guess you know the rest."
"You came all this way, faced danger at the peril of your
lives? All based on wishful thinking?" he asked incredulously. Then
he chuckled dryly. Surely they must be telling the truth. His enemy
would have supplied her minions with a better story than that.
Besides, their auras burned with a steady light - no tell-tale
wavering. "All right. Suppose you start by telling me who you are."
"My apologies, Mage Hannu. I am Mulder, this is Scully.
Next to you is my halla, Shannon. And on the other side of her is
Jhorgab, who has been our guide."
"And you are a Mage yourself - of some power, from what I
can see."
Mulder nodded. "We come from Fairwoods Demesne, from
King Andalor himself, and the Royal Mage Reinald, who ask for
your assistance. Evidently you can read auras."
"Fairly well, for a human. Enough to discern something
else, unless my eyes are deceiving me. You and Scully are
lifebonded."
"Yes, we are lifebonded," replied Scully. "Mulder said that
our mission is two-fold. The affairs of the Realm take precedence,
of course. But our lifebond is...causing a problem. We understand
that lifebonding among Mages is unknown, so no one could help us.
You see, it started as some vague symptoms that would develop in
both of us when we'd be separated by distance. The greater the
distance and the more time we were separated, the worse the
symptoms became. But the problem has become increasingly more
difficult and lately the effects have been more pronounced. At this
point we must stay in constant physical contact, or be overcome with
dizziness, nausea, weakness, lack of concentration, up to and
including complete collapse. Neither of us can afford this in our
work, and no one can tell us what to do because no one has
encountered a lifebonded Mage before."
"I can see where it would be an impediment. But what
makes you think I know any more about it than anyone else?" He
looked thoughtful. "It's growing late, and I'm sure you are weary
from your journey. I'm going to make some arrangements for you
for the night. I'll return shortly." With that, he rose and left the
cottage.
"Well, what do you think?" asked Mulder of his
companions.
"I think I'm hoping he brings back food," said Jhorgab
wistfully.
Scully grinned at the little troll. "We'll see to it that you're
fed. If nothing else presents itself, we'll go buy some food and cook
it ourselves."
"That's odd." Mulder looked pensive.
"What's odd?"
"Scully, did you notice any shops as we walked through the
village?"
She frowned. "Now that you mention it, no, I didn't.
Unless they sell things directly from their homes," she said
doubtfully.
"I don't think so. All the gardens I saw were only large
enough to sustain a single household - not nearly big enough to
produce a market-sized crop. There are no outbuildings large
enough to house cattle or horses, and the fields didn't have many
animals grazing in them. And the path here! Think about it - we
couldn't even bring the horses through. It's way too twisting and
narrow for wagons. In fact, I didn't see a single wagon in the
village. In view of all the secrecy surrounding Hannu's existence, it
would make sense...." His voice trailed off.
"What would make sense?" asked Shannon, bewildered.
"You lost me." She looked at Jhorgab and Scully who seemed
equally confused.
"I'll bet anything this place isn't on any of the trade routes.
I think that this village has sealed itself off from the rest of the
world, that it's totally self-sufficient because it doesn't want to mix
with others."
"Or perhaps Hannu has forced it to be that way," suggested
Scully.
"Well, I hope not, but that's a possibility," Mulder said
slowly.
"How the hell did you manage to notice so much on a short
walk?"
He shrugged. "It's not like our happy host was chatting our
ears off. I had to do something."
"He's not what I expected," admitted Scully. "Do you think
he's going to help us?"
"He's certainly playing his cards close to his chest. I don't
know. Maybe he still isn't sure of us, doesn't want to commit to
anything until he has us checked out."
"I would think that all those tests would be enough,"
declared Shannon, scowling. "What's next - Chinese water torture
or something? He's weird. I feel like he's holding us at arm's
length. It's like he has a deep dark secret he's afraid we'll find out,
or is trying to forget himself."
//Out of the mouths of babes....\\ Mulder's thoughts
transferred easily to Scully.
She looked at him. //I notice you said nothing about our
not being from around here.\\
//Why introduce something that's just going to make him
more suspicious and paranoid? If we have to later, fine, but I see no
reason to bring it up if it's not germane.\\
//Unless our little problem is caused by our being from
another world.\\
//Hmmm, possible. Well, let's hold off as long as we can.\\
//Yes, you're right.\\ She paused for a moment, then added,
her mind-voice uncertain. //The weird thing is that there's
something faintly familiar about him, Mulder. Almost as though
I've seen him before....\\
//That doesn't seem likely,\\ Mulder replied, though his
curiosity was clearly piqued. He trusted Scully's intuition even more
than his own. //But give it some time, maybe it will come to you
later...\\
Their conversation was ended when Hannu again entered
the cottage. "I have arranged places for you to stay the night. You
must forgive us - we're not very accustomed to visitors."
"I can believe that," Shannon muttered under her breath.
"The troll - Jhorgab? You will stay with Lohrat. He is the
griltewy you may have seen on the way in."
"Griltewy? I'm terribly sorry, Mage but I am unfamiliar
with that particular being. Not that I have any objections, you
understand, indeed, I thank you and Lohrat for your hospitality, but
I should not like to offend him accidentally." Jhorgab paused for
breath, then spoke his mind. "Do you know - has he eaten yet?"
Hannu laughed, a pleasant sound, but one that sounded
little used, and out of practice. "I think you and Lohrat will get
along fine. And I believe he is just setting out plates for dinner. His
is the third cottage on the left as you go up the road."
"Just a moment, Mage Hannu," said Mulder firmly. "With
all due respect, we've been through hell and back again, and we've
done it together. I think we'd all feel more comfortable staying
together." He looked to his companions, who nodded vigorously.
"I'm afraid that will not be possible," Hannu replied,
smiling coolly. "As you can see, we live simply here. Our homes are
small, certainly too small to host four guests. My neighbors are
quite anxious to help out, and are more than happy to take one or
two of you. I assure you that you have nothing to fear here.
Certainly, if you have really been through the horrors of which you
spoke, a night separated by a few meters should not hold any
terrors?"
Mulder managed to maintain his outward calm, but
inwardly he fumed. For days they had been pursued, tried, tricked
and tested. The last, the most harrowing and cruel test of all, a test
from which even now none of them had completely recovered. Lips
tight, he looked at Scully. //He has us by the short hairs. If we
insist on being together, it makes us look like boorish cowardly liars.
I don't like it. We didn't go through what we did to be treated this
way.\\
//Believe me, I like it less than you do. This guy could play
chess like a master. But I really don't see what else we can do,
Mulder.\\ She looked at Hannu appraisingly, then gave a mental
nod to her bondmate.
Coldly, he said, "All right, Mage Hannu. It appears
unavoidable." He turned to Jhorgab, who was dancing in
anticipation of his dinner. "Go to Lohrat's, Jhorgab. We'll be within
shouting distance if you need us." His glare pierced the strange
Mage.
Without another word, the little troll was out the door and
bustling toward Lohrat's cottage.
Hannu bowed slightly and smiled. "Lady Shannon. You
will stay with Jasta, our village healer, the next cottage up from
Lohrat." He looked at Mulder who was clearly not happy about the
state of affairs. "I understand you feel your responsibilities to your
halla, Mage Mulder, but I assure you that Jasta is completely
trustworthy." He looked toward Shannon. "She's expecting you.
Will this be satisfactory?"
"It's okay," said Shannon decisively. "I'll be fine. Thank
you for your kindness, Mage Hannu." Drawing her weapons belt a
little tighter around her, she walked up the road to find the healer's
cottage. Mulder's eyes never left the girl until he saw an elderly elf
open the door to her cottage to greet her, and Shannon wave back at
him before entering.
"A lovely girl. You're very lucky, Mage Mulder," Hannu
said wistfully. Suddenly he seemed softer, more vulnerable, more
human.
"Thank you. What did you have in mind for Scully and
myself? I understand we're putting your people out. If we have to
sleep outside, even at Lohrat's or Jasta's, that's fine," Mulder said. It
was his last card in a poor hand.
Hannu smiled. "That won't be necessary. One of our people
is away on a brief errand. He won't mind if you use his cottage, just
next door." The Mage led the way to the little cottage about thirty
meters away from his, and opened the door. "Jasta will bring you
your evening meal, and there's some bread and cheese on the table.
I'll see you in the morning."
"Wait!" protested Scully. "What about -"
"These things cannot be rushed, Warrior Healer Scully,"
Hannu said, pleasantly but firmly. "There's nothing we're going to
accomplish tonight, in any event. We'll speak again in the
morning." He shut the door behind him.
"Son of a bitch," commented Mulder. "Well, it appears we
have some time to kill. Any thoughts?" A roguish smile lit up
Mulder's face as he folded Scully into his arms. They were just
starting to really enjoy killing time, when there was a perfunctory
knock at the door and Shannon walked in bearing a pot of soup.
"Eat it while it's hot," she announced. "Oh, have I come at
a bad time - again?" The emphasis was on the last word, and she
grinned as they blushed.
"Are you going to join us?" Scully asked, taking some
bowls from a shelf.
"No thanks, Jasta's waiting for me."
"Is everything all right over there? Any funny feelings or
anything? I do trust your intuition, you know." Mulder said.
"No, Jasta's very nice. And I peeked in the window of
Lohrat's cottage on the way over and he and Jhorgab seemed to be
having a great time. What's a griltewy, anyway?"
Mulder shrugged. "Other than the fact they are small,
round and orange, I really have no idea. Maybe Jhorgab can fill us
in tomorrow."
"Did Hannu say anything more about helping us?"
"Unfortunately not," replied Scully. "I think he's having us
checked out. With whom I have no idea, but it seems the owner of
this cottage had to take a very hasty trip, no doubt inspired by
Hannu. I hate to waste time, but we really can't rush things,
Shannon. We have to get Hannu on our side. Though at this point,
I would enjoy knocking him on his ass."
"Let me help." She hesitated, then said, "Mulder...my
mother...it seemed so real."
The tall Mage crossed to her and put his arms around her.
"I know, baby. All of us were rocked, believe me. I think I'd rather
face brigands or woodscats than go through that again."
She quieted in his arms, then drew back. "Well, I'd better
get going."
"If you feel the slightest bit nervous about where you are,
don't hesitate to come back here," said Mulder advisedly.
"I honestly don't think it's going to be necessary. In spite of
Hannu acting like a creep, Jasta really seems wonderful. She kind
of reminds me of Corvay. I don't expect I'll come flying back here in
the middle of the night with tales of terror." The girl went to the
door.
"And besides - think of what I might be interrupting!" Her
musical laugh followed her out.
End of Chapter Seventeen
THE DARK QUEEN
The Magician - Book Three
by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and
Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files
belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the
remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter Eighteen
The morning skies were dark with heavy clouds, matching
the mood of the crowd that gathered in a circle in the field west of
Fairwoods Keep. In the center of the circle was a tall wooden pyre,
its foundations piled high with kindling and logs. At the top,
Corvay's tiny body was shrouded, wrapped in consecrated cloth and
covered with lashella vines. Anatha and Reinald stood at either end,
each holding a torch. The crowd was silent, except for a few sniffles
and an occasional muffled sob.
Anatha looked at the gathering with a serene expression.
"We assemble today to speed our friend Corvay on his Last Journey.
Knowing Corvay, the last thing he would have wanted was a fuss."
There were a few smiles now, as mourners remembered the feisty
old elf. "But it would not be a fitting memorial to our friend if we
didn't make at least a small celebration of his life, of his work, of his
gifts to all of us. Corvay had been around Fairwoods for as long as
all of us can remember, for as long as our parents and even our
grandparents can remember. Indeed, we were blessed by his
presence for longer than we had a right to expect. Still, his passage
to the Next World leaves a hole that will never be completely filled
by another. The time for memory-speaking has come." She stood to
one side and held out the torch. The crowd assembled into a single
queue, the high-born lining up behind the peasant and the
shopkeeper. For the moment, interspecies suspicion and hatred
were forgotten, as troll stood with human, and human stood with elf.
One by one they advanced, to take the proffered torch and speak
their words of remembrance.
"Corvay saved my son's life," declared a withered old troll
in a wavering voice. "All hope was gone. The healer spent days
and nights pouring over his books, trying to determine the cause of
my son's illness, gathering herbs, even sending runners to distant
places to find the rarest of ingredients for his potions. Then one
night, my little boy was struggling for every breath, and we feared
each might be his last. Suddenly, Healer Corvay burst through the
door to our cottage with a steaming draught. Ach, it smelled
terrible! But he coaxed it down Labi's throat, drop by drop, and sat
with him through the night. When the morning dawned, Labi was
sitting up in bed, calling for his breakfast. My son is a grandfather
now. Corvay gave him his whole life." She passed the torch to the
next in line, Aldara, with Jourdain and Daanna by her side.
"Corvay brought our daughter into the world. It was a long
and difficult birth, and many despaired for both my life and our
child's. Corvay was there throughout it all, encouraging, scolding,
healing - being whatever he needed to be at the moment to ensure
that our daughter would live to see daylight." Aldara choked, her
emerald eyes streaming hot tears. Jourdain patted her shoulder,
then took the torch from her.
"Healer Corvay saved my life more than once, but no more
so than the day he saved my wife and daughter. May the Next
World be as good to him as he has been to us." An elf eagerly
accepted the torch from his hand. Andalor stood next in line,
awaiting his turn.
On and on it went, a litany of Corvay's selflessness, his
irascible personality. Stories of his skill and his empathy, his ready
friendship. How he healed the sick, eased pain, brought life into the
world, and allowed the dying to slip gently through his hands to
begin their Last Journey without suffering. Noble stories and funny
ones, carved in the memories of the mourners like letters upon a
stone tablet. At last, the final speaker placed the torch back into
Anatha's hands.
"The honor of lighting the way of the Last Journey belongs
to the Royal Mage Reinald, Healer Corvay's oldest friend."
At the other end of the pyre, Reinald was silent for some
moments. Then, in a clear, strong voice he said, "Corvay lived a life
of usefulness and quiet dignity, of unswerving loyalty and steadfast
friendship. We owe him a debt we can never repay. Of course, if he
were here, he would say that was nonsense." A few in the crowd
chuckled, others nodded, smiling. Reinald's own smile faded. "My
only regret is that his most devoted pupils, Healer Kyla and Warrior
Healer Scully, and his favorite patient, Mage Mulder, cannot be here
to see him on his way. In their names, and with gratitude for his
life, I bid my cherished friend an easy journey to the Next World."
He raised the torch, touched it to some kindling, and stepped back.
The dry wood caught immediately. It quickly spread to envelop the
pyre in a sea of flame. Fragrant smoke from the profusion of
lashella vines permeated the air. Overhead, a single bolt of
lightning forked through the skies, followed by a deafening crash of
thunder. Slowly, reluctantly, the crowd began to withdraw, leaving
only High Priestess Anatha and the grieving Mage. Tears welling in
his eyes, he gazed upon the pyre, and his lips moved.
"Goodbye, my old friend."
- - - - -
Tarnor waited nervously in Andalor's quarters, fiddling
with sheets of parchment and lending a hand occasionally to the
Professor, who was bent over his pots and wires near the hearth. By
the windows, Andalor paced restlessly. The tall windows admitted
little brooding light, the chamber dim enough for Dorbo to begin to
light the torches on the walls.
"Sire, why don't you withdraw to Reinald's chamber, or
Lord Mandor's," the gargoyle suggested gently. "Reinald is not
going to want you here when we cast the spell."
"He's taking Corvay's death hard, Tarnor, very hard. Can't
this spell casting wait a few days? He said it's going to be
exhausting, and the healer's death has already drained him. I'm
worried about him." Andalor threw himself into a chair.
"I know, Your Majesty. But this can't wait. Our enemy
could strike any one of us at any time. He won't get any rest until he
knows that you're beyond reach. Your being here is just going to
distract him. Ah! Here he is."
Reinald appeared to have aged ten season-cycles in the
space of a day. He turned suspiciously bright eyes on the king as
Andalor bounded out of the chair to stand at his side. The young
man held his silence, merely placing a hand on Reinald's shoulder.
The Mage reached up and patted the king's hand. When he
could speak without betraying his emotions, he said, "I'm all right,
thank you, Andalor. Now, if you would please go to Lord Mandor's
chamber...."
"But Reinald!" The king's whisper was fierce, urgent, as he
took the Mage by the arm and led him away from the others.
"Please, I want to be here. I'm concerned about you."
Reinald quickly recovered his customary decisiveness.
Shaking his head, he said in English, "No way." Startled that the
slang had actually emerged from his own lips, he smiled. "I'm
sorry, Andalor. I appreciate your concern, but you must leave," he
said, kindly but firmly. "We don't know precisely what to expect
with this spell. If I have to be worried about your safety as well, my
concentration might waver at a critical moment
with...undesirable...consequences." Noting the young man's mulish
expression, he pleaded, "Please, Andalor. Don't make this more
difficult."
The king sighed. "All right. But Reinald, be careful,
okay?" At the Mage's nod, he reluctantly left the room.
Reinald turned to the others. "Well, Gunther, what have
you cooked up for us?" he asked, with more optimism and energy
than he felt.
The tall old man scratched his head and looked doubtful.
"Theoretically, this should work. I've just been briefing Tarnor,
here." He indicated an assemblage of pots and vats, some bubbling,
some steaming, none having a positive effect on the peculiar odor in
the room. "I've run my wires through each. With the force field
that you create, I'm hoping that one or more of them reacts in such a
way as to magnify the intensity of the field."
With a sinking feeling, Tarnor repeated, "Hoping?"
"Yes...well...there really hasn't been an opportunity to test
this, you know. Back in my world, I did get a brief chance to
measure the electromagnetic charge that Reinald's spells create.
That's what I based all this on, but that data is regrettably...sketchy."
"All I need to know is are we risking a bigger problem in
doing this than in doing nothing?" demanded Reinald.
The Professor thought for a moment and then shrugged.
"Your guess is as good as mine. If everything goes the way I've
theorized, we'll be all right. I feel the larger risk is that it won't
work at all. Our unseen enemy lies in wait. Of course, there is
always the off-chance of an explosion -"
"Explosion!" yelped Tarnor. "Professor, you fill me with
confidence about our undertaking."
"Sorry," he smiled, apologetically, "but you should know
what you're getting into."
"There's still time to back out, Tarnor," Reinald said
seriously. "No one would think the less of you."
The gargoyle bared his pointed teeth in a grin. "I always
wanted to go out with a bang. All right. Let's do it!"
Reinald fixed him in a long, appraising stare, then nodded.
He stepped over to the center of the room in an area clear of
furniture, and Tarnor followed. They took a few minutes to center
themselves. "Ready, Gunther?"
The Professor looked up from his pots and wires.
"Everything's ready here, Reinald."
"Very well."
In silence, the lips of the two Mages began to move,
mouthing the words both familiar and new, giving life to the spell.
Slowly, their arms rose, and curved, and joined, forming a circle.
Bright white-blue darts of energy ran down their arms, forming a
glowing ring that illuminated the room far better than the torches on
the walls. They now gave voice to the cadence of the chant, growing
louder, more commanding. At the hearth, the liquid in some of the
pots heaved and frothed, and the wires hummed. The Professor
crouched over them, making adjustments, feeling the electric thrill
tingling the skin of his bared forearms.
Now the Mages' voices thundered, and the brilliant glare
spread, out the windows to spill onto the courtyard below, under the
door to dance along the stone corridors. Soon the castle thrummed
to the power coming from within, the entire keep enveloped in a
fierce glow. On and on it went, the merged voices shouting, almost
- but not quite - drowning out the cries of surprise and alarm rising
from the inhabitants of Fairwoods Castle.
Finally, a candlemark after they had begun, the Mages
slowly lowered their arms and croaked out the last of the spell. The
darts of energy gradually faded, but a shimmer of light and the
electric sensation remained everywhere. Exhausted, the Mages sank
to the luxurious carpet.
Professor Neumann yanked the wires from the pots and
rushed to the side of his friends. Kneeling, he cradled Reinald's
head in his lap. "Reinald - are you all right? Should I fetch a
healer?"
Weakly, the Royal Mage shook his head. "Not now. I must
sleep...but...when the glow fades and ... your skin no longer senses
the spell at work...we must be roused...to renew the shield.... Do
you understand?"
Mutely, Gunther nodded, starting a little as he heard
Andalor's voice behind him. The king had rushed from Lord
Mandor's chambers as soon as he felt the vibrations begin to abate.
"We'll do just as you say, Reinald. Guards!"
A squad of the king's personal guards rushed in. "Bear
Mage Reinald and Mage Tarnor to the Royal Mage's chambers.
Gently, mind!" the king commanded. "Put them to bed. Then
summon Healer Sirisa and the Mages' servants to meet me there.
They will be given further instructions." The guards, with more
care and gentleness than would be expected of their kind, raised
their burdens and bore them from the room. Andalor's gaze
followed them. When their footsteps echoed in the hallway, he
turned to the Professor.
"Professor, it worked, didn't it? How long will it last?"
The old man nodded. "Yes, I believe it worked. Reinald
seems satisfied that it did, anyway, and that's good enough for me.
As to how long it will last, I can't say, Your Majesty."
Outside, thunder rumbled as the wind drove raindrops to
smash against the high stone walls surrounding the courtyard, but
none penetrated the barrier the Mages had constructed. As if in
revenge, the fury of the storm intensified. Lightning viciously arced
across the sky, thunder crashing almost simultaneously. No
ordinary storm, this, Andalor knew.
The king was grim. "Long enough for them to recover?"
"Let us hope so, Sire."
- - - - -
Three doors down the corridor, the king's formal reception
room now served to shelter the family of the Captain of the Royal
Guards. Mumbling, Daanna shifted restlessly in her sleep on a
small cot. At the hearth, Lita stirred the pot of stew she had brought
up from the kitchens and tried to ignore the tingling of her skin and
the sensation of magic at work. Her own cot was next to the child's,
awaiting an end to her tasks. At the far end of the spacious
chamber, two bedrolls had been laid out on the rug side by side. In
chairs nearby the warriors sat, conversing in low tones.
"Jourdain, what if the spell doesn't work? I'm worried that
Daanna could be the next one attacked." Aldara's nerves were drawn
as taut as lyre strings. The glow produced by the burgeoning spell
made her nervous, and the death of Corvay had upset her almost as
much as it had Reinald. Now anxiety about the safety of her child
pushed to the fore, and her black brows drew together in a frown.
He closed a massive hand around her tiny one. "I have
every confidence in Reinald and Tarnor. If there's any possible way
to protect us, they'll do it. Besides, pet - why should Daanna be in
any more danger than the rest of us? She's just a baby. Surely the
king, his betrothed, or the Mages themselves are likelier targets."
"Her powers are unique. We don't know enough about
them ourselves to understand how much of a target they may make
her. Reinald recognized the danger, that's why we're here. Our
enemy is a Black Mage of immense power If that force could reach
in and take Corvay, it certainly could have discovered the threat our
daughter might pose. Her foretelling dreams have given us the only
insight we have into our enemy. Whether this "dark lady" of her
dreams is indeed the Black Mage, or works in league with another,
only Daanna has managed to put a face to our enemy."
Jourdain grunted. "Aye, that's true enough. And I'd like to
know what part that cursed Drellor has in all this."
"Drellor?" questioned his wife, surprised. "What has
Drellor to do with this?"
He shrugged. "It stands to reason. Drellor was removed
from his cell, using Black Magic, just as all the trouble began to
brew. His heart is black with hatred for the king and Reinald. Even
his allies in House Dordinal haven't been able to muster enough
support to release him. Now, with the enemy assaulting the Realm
from all sides and attacking in our midst, I find it impossible to
believe he isn't involved somehow. Aye, be sure of it. He's made a
deal with the Evil One -" He broke off as a bolt of lightning lit up
the dim room and thunder shook the walls. Crossing the chamber,
he stared out a tall window set high in the wall. "Aldara, come and
look!"
She went to his side and he lifted her, as he would a child,
to see out. The skies had grown night-black. Beyond the perimeter
of the courtyard wall, the storm raged. Trees bent and cracked, rain
came down in sheets, and thunder and lightning were continuous.
"Goddess! Jourdain, the rain - it's as if there's a wall of glass
surrounding the castle!"
He lowered her gently until her feet touched the floor and
smiled down on her. "Well, love, it looks like Reinald's spell is
working. That's not just a storm, it's a Mage-storm. Yet the castle
remains untouched. If all of us are protected that well, we have
nothing to worry about."
She snuggled into his broad chest and sighed contentedly,
his arms around her. Jourdain was her rock, her safe harbor. She
was a warrior, yes, but also a mother, who sometimes worried
excessively about her child. Her husband had a way of calming her,
of giving her reassurance that no one else could give. A sound from
over by the cots attracted their attention, and they turned to see their
daughter, awakening from her nap with a beatific smile.
"Mamma, Poppa! Mage Mulder is with the tall blue man!"
They looked at each other and bolted to their child's side.
"What do you mean, kitten? What blue man?" asked Jourdain
gently.
She sighed with childish impatience. "The blue man he
was going to see. Mage Mulder and W-war...Warrior-Healer Scully.
And Shannon and the funny little being. They were sitting down in
the woods and the man came and he bringed them to his house."
"Do you mean Hannu?" prompted her mother, eagerly.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and shrugged her tiny
shoulders. "I don't know. He's blue, like Mage Mulder. And very
tall, like Poppa. I'm hungry."
"Good, child. Now, come and eat, all of you. I have a nice
supper all prepared," said Lita, dishing out bowls of stew.
Jourdain smiled down at his wife. "It appears we have
more than Reinald's spell to celebrate, pet." Glancing over at their
elven servant, he said, "Keep mine warm, please, Lita. I'll be back
shortly. It will be a pleasure to bring the king some good news, for a
change."
- - - - -
Lightning snapped and thunder crashed throughout the
Realm, as the winds bore the evidence of her fury. It had begun
candlemarks before, and the quivering minions of the Dark Queen
cowered in their corners and wondered when her wrath would be
spent. Never before had they seen her like this, face almost black
with a rage so strong, so powerful that even the capacity for speech
eluded her. Her incoherent shrieks echoed through the bleak
hallways and ricocheted off slime-covered walls. Finally, her voice
grown hoarse, she fell silent, and an ominous quiet filled the
darkness. This was the time her servants feared the most, when at
any time a summons could come from above, and one of them might
be sacrificed to her temper.
High above where the servants hid, a flickering fire threw
little light. Illumination of the noisome chamber came mostly from
the intermittent lightning of the dying storm, suddenly exploding,
then leaving the room dim until the next burst. Glowering, the Dark
Queen sat huddled in her armchair, arms curled protectively around
her midsection as if in pain. It was a kind of agony she was
suffering, though more emotional than physical. Wrong.
Everything had gone wrong. Her mind cried out to her father, to
dear Lashmilla, seeking consolation and inspiration.
Bad enough was her failure to observe the travelers. Just
when she had them in her sight, collapsed on the forest floor in
confusion and grief - he had appeared. For a short time she was
able to combat the interference in her vision that had coincided with
her enemy's arrival. With difficulty she followed them through the
woods, concentrating so fiercely to keep her vision that her head
throbbed. But when they had reached the clearing, the hematite
sphere hummed and vibrated as before, but the images dimmed,
then disintegrated. Repeated attempts to restore their images
yielded no better results, leaving her frustrated and blind to her
enemies.
Finally in hot rage she had turned to Fairwoods Keep, once
again seeking a release to the unbearable tension in the havoc she
could wreak there. To once more cause grief and loss to her
enemies such as she had borne almost since she could remember.
She had reached for her sphere, had even chosen her mark - a slight,
pale, pretty young girl treated with deference by the inhabitants.
Then, just as her mouth moved to the first words of the spell that
would reach in and suck out the child's life, a gray curtain suddenly
obscured her vision. In moments it became white-blue and painfully
brilliant, burning her eyes until she could bear it no more and had
hurled the sphere across the room. The storm and the tirade had
followed.
Now she sat, tired. Too tired. Her outburst of temper had
excessively sapped her store of energy for the battle to come, yet the
writhing snake of her frustration still gnawed at her core. Her
thoughts were as dark as her soul as she craved both sustenance and
relief from the tension which threatened to consume still more of her
precious reserves. Nothing had gone right so far. Yes, the villagers
still slaughtered each other in those areas the king's troops had not
yet reached. Admittedly, hatred still flourished, even in some of
those towns where the troops stood careful watch. But none of this
was enough to realize her dream. The Blue Mages had to be
defeated, and Fairwoods must lie in smoldering ruins to see her
plans come to fruition. While her enemies hid behind their shields
of magic, she could do nothing. Nothing but sit here miserably and
regret her mistakes, imagining the voices of her lost ancestors
calling out, berating her for failing them, failing herself. She burst
to her feet, fists clenched, face turned to the blackened beams of the
ceiling.
"By your blood, I shall be victorious!" she thundered.
She stripped back the long tight sleeve of her underdress
from her forearm. Eyes flashing, she brought her arm to her fury-
contorted face. With a hoarse screech, she sank her perfect, sharp
white teeth into the tender flesh of her wrist. Scarlet blood gushed
from the wound, staining her mouth, running freely down her arm
to be soaked up in her sleeve. The Dark Queen raised her face once
more, and stretched her arms high.
"By MY blood, I shall be victorious!"
- - - - -
Scully's eyes popped open and she tensed. As the
realization of her whereabouts slowly came to her and she felt her
bondmate's arms tighten around her, she relaxed and let her eyes
close once more.
"Good morning."
She smiled. "Good morning. You sound like you've been
awake for a while."
"Yeah. Couldn't sleep."
"That's odd, for you. Well, it's odd here, anyway."
Although Mulder had insomnia in his own world, in the Realm he
generally slept peacefully. And with the exertions of the journey,
sleep had not been a problem. "The bed's not spacious, but it's
reasonably comfortable."
"I know. No, I was comfortable enough. Just too
disappointed and pissed off. And the more I thought about that
third test, the more pissed off I got. You don't think he actually
invaded our minds to get those images, do you? I mean, if so,
Hannu has taken a giant step downwards in my estimation. Bad
enough we were treated like unwelcome guests. Then he decides to
have us checked out and puts us on ice. But if he did intrude into
our minds to set up that third test, then he's no better than the Black
Mage who mentally raped me back at the Greenswan River." He
frowned. "But I just can't make myself believe that of Hannu. It's
not a 'Blue Mage' thing to do. And I'm not a world-class aura reader
like Lita, but I could swear that he hasn't lied to us. What's he
trying to do?"
"I don't know." At the mention of Lita's name, Scully was
reminded of their friends in Fairwoods. "I wonder what's happening
back at the castle. If they put an end to all the outbreaks of killing,
if the king and all our friends are all right."
Mulder drew her closer. "I don't know. If our theory is
correct and a Black Mage has been causing all this, then chances are
it's still going on. And our theory IS correct, Scully - there's too
much evidence for it to be anything else. I don't know, maybe we've
been able to distract our enemy somewhat. One thing I do know -
Hannu had better come up with some substantive help today, or we'd
better fall back to Plan B."
"As I recall, we don't have a Plan B."
"Yeah, I know," he said ruefully.
She stroked his shoulders and chest comfortingly.
"Something will happen. It'll be okay."
"More of the famous but often-denied Scully intuition?"
"I just know it HAS to be okay, Mulder."
He lowered his lips to hers just as Shannon walked through
the door with a perfunctory knock. She rolled her eyes. "Are you
guys at it again? Don't you ever get tired?"
Mulder sighed. "Good morning to you too, Shannon. Your
timing is impeccable, as always. Everything okay during the
night?"
"I slept like a baby. Jasta's a sweetie." She plopped down
on a rough wooden bench at the table. "And if you're interested,
breakfast is being served at Hannu's as soon as you're ready."
"I'm very interested," declared Mulder. "Does Jhorgab
know?"
"He had his first breakfast at dawn with Lohrat. Evidently,
griltewies and trolls are on the same wavelength when it comes to
priorities. But he's ready for another if we can get you two to join
us." She sat smiling pleasantly at her taabsut and his bondmate.
Now he was pointedly returning her gaze. She colored prettily.
"Oh! Yeah...well. You'll want to get up and get dressed now, won't
you, so I'll just meet you over there, okay?" She slipped out the door
with a giggle.
- - - - -
It was no surprise to the couple that Jhorgab was chattering
away happily to anyone who would pay him the slightest bit of
attention. The crowd at Hannu's cottage spilled out into the front
yard, and they stepped back from the path as two gargoyles carried
in another long table. Entering the little dwelling, they found it
contained most of the inhabitants of the village. Mulder gave a
short, impatient snort.
//We can hardly get down to business in front of all these
beings. More of Hannu's stalling tactics, do you think?\\
//Could be. Make the best of it, Mulder. We passed the
tests on the trip here. Maybe this is another one - a test of our
patience.\\
//I don't think the Realm can afford for us to be patient
much longer, Scully.\\ He swallowed a sympathetic chuckle as he
could almost hear her teeth grinding in frustration. The messages
he was receiving over their link were completely opposite to the
expectant, friendly exterior his bondmate was putting on public
view.
"Ah, there they are! Mage Mulder, Warrior Healer Scully!
There are some beings here that I want you to meet." In stark
contrast to his cool reserve of the previous day, Hannu was the
warm, convivial host, making introductions and handing around
mugs of tea. He introduced them to the inhabitants of the village, a
colorful mixture of beings who treated the Mage as just one of their
neighbors.
Giving up, for now, on the idea of drawing any closer to a
solution to their problems, they chatted easily with the beings until
everyone was called to the table by Jasta. When they had all found
seats, an old human stood at the head of one of the tables and spoke
softly in a strange tongue. When he was finished, the villagers
responded briefly in the same language, then began passing the
heaping platter of food. The serving dishes arrived last at the place
where the troll and the griltewy sat side by side. The villagers
evidently understood a thing or two about their appetites. The two
new friends evenly divided the generous amount of food still on the
platters between them, and fell to eating with enthusiasm.
Mulder and Scully necessarily sat together. He chatted to
Lohrat on his right, ducking the spray of food particles that were
emitted when the griltewy spoke. Pausing between mouthfuls,
Scully looked around at the tables filled with happy, peaceful, but
completely disparate beings.
"How do you like our cuisine, Warrior Healer Scully?"
asked Hannu, seated on her left.
"It's wonderful." She sipped at her tea. Then, hoping to get
a little information, she commented, "How very fortunate the
interspecies hatred plaguing the Realm hasn't affected you here."
He smiled pleasantly. "Very fortunate indeed."
She bit back a flash of annoyance. He was toying with her.
He knew very well she was on a fishing expedition, and had easily
avoided her last cast. Persistently, she said, "Mulder and I have
seen many villages on our journey, but this one appears unique. In
many ways. For instance, isn't it unusual for such a small, isolated
village to have such a wide assortment of beings? How did so many
different species come to be here?"
"Why is anyone anywhere? he laughed. "Perhaps once
again we can ascribe the happenstance to good fortune."
Scully was about to press the question when the Mage
turned from her to chat with the being on his other side. She fumed
silently.
//What's up, love?\\ He turned in her general direction, but
avoided giving the impression he was communicating with her.
//I tried getting some information out of Hannu. I think it
would be easier getting an alphabetized list of Swiss bank accounts
mailed to the IRS.\\
//Never mind. Wait until this crowd clears out and we'll
see if Hannu is any more forthcoming.\\
//He'd better be.\\
When the meal was finished, the dirty dishes disappeared,
whisked away by their owners. The crowd said their goodbyes and
left, taking the extra tables and benches with them. Jasta was the
last to leave, and finally they were alone with Hannu.
The Mage could sense their impatience, but still seemed
reluctant to engage in any meaningful discussion, steering the
conversation in the direction of trivialities.
"Shannon, why don't you and Jhorgab explore the village?"
Mulder suggested. "If that is allowed, of course," he added dryly,
looking at Hannu.
"Certainly, by all means. You are my guests, not my
prisoners. If I may suggest, however - avoid the woods to the
northwest, the direction from which you entered the village. There's
quite a lovely glade to the east, complete with a babbling brook. I
often go there to think. Why don't you try there? Or you may visit
any of the villagers, I'm sure they'd be glad of your company."
Shannon was about to protest, as only an aggrieved
teenager can. Here she had gone through all the dangers and
hardships of the journey, holding her own with the adults, only to be
told now to go away and play, as if she were a child. Her cheeks
flushed with irritation and she opened her mouth to argue, when she
caught sight of her taabsut's expression. One look at his quiet,
concentrated determination told her it was an argument she would
not win and which would prove an embarrassment to everyone.
"Come on, Jhorgab. We know when we're not wanted."
She opened the door to allow the troll through.
"Shannon? Perhaps, if you would like, I could show you
the glade myself," Hannu offered. "Say, in a candlemark? If it is
allowed, of course."
She turned expectantly to Mulder, who was staring at
Hannu with eyes narrowed. Finding no trace of irony in the Mage's
words which were so much an echo of his own, seeing no tell-tale
flicker of his powerful blue aura, he said, "All right. If you want to,
Shannon."
"Yeah, that would be great! See you there." Happily she
followed Jhorgab out the door and into the village.
//Mulder, are you sure that was wise?\\
He sent a wave of reassurance, then his mind turned to
their mission. To Hannu he remarked, "I'm concerned about our
friends back in the Realm. Every day we delay means more death
and destruction. We told you of the gravity of the situation. We've
been as open as we can be. I think it's now time we asked you to
return the favor."
"Are you saying that I've been less than truthful?" he asked.
He looked at the pair, the corners of his amber eyes crinkling with
amusement.
"No," replied Scully carefully. "As far as we know you
haven't lied to us. But truth and frankness are not necessarily the
same."
For some time, the three parried back and forth, an
intelligent and stimulating discussion but imparting no information
of any use to the bondmates. Finally, when Scully realized just how
far off track the glib Mage had led them, she broke in. "This is all
fine, but we're not here to discuss philosophy. Witty conversation is
all well and good, but there are beings dying all over the Realm.
And your delaying tactics are getting us nowhere."
Mulder shot her a look of caution. //Easy, love. I know it's
frustrating but we have to play his game.\\
Gravely Hannu nodded. "I'm sure that's very distressing to
you. As I said last night, these things take time."
The bland dismissal finally lit Mulder's fuse. "How much
time?" he demanded. "Look, we came here because you were our
last resort. Believe me, we wouldn't have chosen to go through the
hell we did if it weren't necessary. We've been surveyed,
scrutinized, tested and now stonewalled. You can read my aura, you
know I'm telling you the truth. Why can't you be straight with us?
We need your help." He paused as he suddenly realized something.
He had said the word 'stonewalled' in English, having no ready
Realm equivalent. Yet Hannu did not blink, did not look perplexed,
in fact did not in any way register a lack of understanding.
Interesting. Mulder filed the fact away in his memory. "Look, you
know about us, even about the intensely personal problem Scully
and I are having with our bond," he continued. "Yet we know
nothing about this place, nothing about you."
"It isn't necessary for you to know anything about me," the
Mage replied coolly.
"Trust goes both ways," Scully countered, annoyed.
The Mage frowned, his lips tight. "I have not spent the last
several score of season-cycles trying to forget aspects of my past,
only to divulge them to you," he said heatedly, his detachment
finally cracked. He looked into Mulder's hazel eyes, which always
bore a trace of pain, the presence of ghosts. "I might suggest," he
added more softly, "that there are portions of your own past you
would not chose to share with a new acquaintance, no matter how
congenial."
Scully felt rather than saw Mulder recoil slightly from the
emotional bullseye that Hannu's words had scored. She had had
enough.
"I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, Hannu,
but at this point I seriously question why we bothered to come here,"
she snapped. "Your little stunt of invading our minds for the third
test makes you no better than our enemy."
Shocked, Hannu drew back. "Invade your minds?" he
gasped. "I would never do that. It's against everything I believe in,
everything a Blue Mage represents."
"But the images, the visions that came to us - you made
them, you forced them on us," Mulder said numbly.
Still dazed, Hannu shook his head. "I didn't invade your
minds, I wouldn't commit such an act."
"Then how -"
"I'm sorry, very sorry for the pain that the test seems to
have caused you. I thought when I first saw you in the forest that
something was wrong, but I never thought.... Yes, the visions were
my creation in a way, but actually they were not." Noting the
disbelief and confusion in their expressions, he continued, "Let me
explain."
"I think you'd better," responded Scully darkly, stroking
her bondmate's arm comfortingly.
"The third test was merely another way to entice you off the
trail. The spell only makes the would-be entrant see what he or she
most wishes to see, appearing at some distance off the path. It is the
entrant who determines what is seen. For many, the image is a bag
of gold, or sparkling jewels. For others it might be a beautiful
female, or a handsome male, or even a coveted weapon. In your
case...."
"In our case, it produced visions of people who were very
dear to us, people we have lost," finished Mulder quietly.
"And it felt like losing them all over again, thanks to your
test," added his bondmate icily.
"You have my most abject apology," Mage Hannu said.
"That test was never meant to cause pain, and I can see that it did in
your case. Great pain. It was unforgivable, and I'm sorry."
The sweet twittering of a songbird sounded outside the
cottage.
"I must ask you to excuse me," said Hannu. "It is nearly
time to meet your halla, and I don't want to keep her waiting. I must
also apologize to her, and to Jhorgab. I shall return shortly."
"But what about -"
"Soon, Warrior-Healer Scully. Soon." The door closed
behind him.
- - - - -
Shannon felt like she had died and gone to heaven. She
relaxed on the sun-warmed stone, dangling her bare feet in the cool
shallow stream. Dappled shade and sun glinted off the clear water,
and a soft breeze played with the surrounding treetops. A sudden
snap of a twig, however, and she was back in warrior mode - on her
feet, crouched in a defense posture, sword in hand. Then she
relaxed, smiled, and resheathed her weapon. "Oh, it's you!"
"I see you have found my favorite place," Hannu called
from the opposite bank.
She reclined once more. "I can see why you love it. Come
on over, there's plenty of room on this rock."
The Mage removed his boots and waded out to her, sitting
on the edge of the rock she comfortably occupied. "Your journey
was hard, but you seem no worse for your experiences, I'm happy to
see."
She gazed at him from beneath her lashes. "It's been
interesting, that's for sure."
"Tell me a little about yourself."
Shannon was hesitant. For some reason, she felt herself
drawn to the enigmatic Mage, in spite of his lack of cooperation
with their mission. But she knew Mulder wanted to keep their
origins a secret for now. Not to mention the charade of Mulder's
being her uncle. While she was eager to talk to him, she was afraid
of saying something which would betray Mulder's confidence in her.
"There's not much to tell, really. I began training as a warrior some
time ago, after my aura was read and my talents were discovered.
Since then, I've been working hard. I must say I've had more
practice on the journey than I thought I would."
Hannu smiled warmly. "You obviously have trained well,
or you never would have survived. Your aura also contains a bit of
Mage blue. Have you ever tried to develop it?"
"Mage Mulder's been showing me a few things. But having
it in my aura came as a bit of a surprise."
"A surprise? Why? With your uncle a powerful Mage, it's
reasonable that you should have received some talent through your
familial relationship."
Shannon blushed a little over her gaffe and hoped that
Hannu would think the redness of her cheeks was due to the strong
sunlight. "Yes, of course. Well... I just never thought I would
inherit those gifts."
Hannu nodded and seemed to accept her explanation. He
looked around him. "Lovely place, isn't it?" He was quiet for a
while, leaning his weight back on his arms and enjoying the feel of
the warm sun on his skin. "You're a young woman, the right age for
marriage. Any thoughts in that direction?" When she didn't
respond, he glanced toward her. She was frowning.
"No, not really. There is someone, a very special young
man...but the match would not be agreeable to his family."
"Then they obviously have either poor taste or unreasonable
expectations."
She laughed bitterly. "That's what Taabsut Mulder said."
"Tell me of your family, where you come from. Perhaps I
know the village."
Her face darkened further. "I don't think so. It's really far
away, I don't think it's possible you could have been there. My
family was just my mother. I lost her recently." Her eyes filled with
tears at the thought of Karen, the brilliant woman she was only
beginning to know when her life was brutally ended. One tear
coursed slowly down her cheek, and she averted her head quickly to
hide it from the Mage.
After a moment, he said gently. "It's so hard to lose
someone you love, isn't it? I'm sorry. It seems I have now caused
you pain twice. It was your mother whom you saw in the forest,
wasn't it? I want to apologize. The third test was never meant to
cause anyone unhappiness."
Shannon sniffed and roughly wiped away the evidence of
her tears. "It's okay. Don't worry about it. It's just..." She stopped.
"Go on. It's just what, Shannon?"
"Well, my mother and I never really got along. I was
rebellious and resented her, for all the wrong reasons. I never even
knew she loved me until..." She broke off until she could get her
quavering voice under control. "Until she gave her life to save me."
Startled, Hannu exclaimed, "Goddess! What happened?"
She shook her head. "It's a long story. She was murdered.
And now I wish I had gotten to know her better and hadn't been
such a pain in the... I mean, I wish I hadn't been so much trouble to
her."
"She'd be very proud of you now."
"Thanks." She looked up at him shyly. "That's what
Taabsut Mulder and Dana keep telling me."
"Dana?"
"Warrior-Healer Scully. That's her first name."
His reaction was so brief she never saw it. "Ah! Of course.
She was Mulder's sister, after all."
"No.... I mean.... Mulder and Scully were there when it
happened."
Now Hannu looked confused. "But - surely - Mage Mulder
would have had the power to stop it?"
"Not there. It doesn't work. I mean -" Shannon stumbled
over her words. "I mean, it was very sudden. It was too quick. If he
could have saved her, he would have. He felt almost as bad as I
did."
They were both silent for some moments, Shannon lost in
the traumatic memories of her mother's death, Hannu in the
questions that her words raised. 'First names?' His magic wouldn't
work 'there?' Finally he said, "We should be getting back. I'm sure
Mage Mulder will be concerned about you."
"Yeah, I guess." Reluctantly she got to her feet and
retrieved her boots. He did likewise and together they waded across
the stream.
- - - - -
When Hannu returned to the cottage with Shannon, Mulder
and Scully were ready.
"All right, Mage Hannu," Scully said. "If you aren't going
to assist us, just tell us now. We have beings depending on us to
help them. Maybe you can sit idly by while they're slaughtered, but
we can't. It will be a long trip back to Fairwoods. The sooner we
leave, he sooner we can get back and help."
He held up his hands. "Wait, please. I understand only too
well your urgency. Let us have tea and discuss it." As he bent to his
task, the travellers watched his every move. The Mage seemed
different, more conciliatory. Mulder flashed a questioning glance
Shannon's way, but she merely shrugged and stared at her boots.
//Do you think Shannon said something to him, somehow
convinced him?\\
//I don't know. She may have let something slip - she's
avoiding eye contact. There's nothing we can do about it now. I
don't know what she possibly could have said to convince him we're
telling the truth. God knows we haven't been able to do it.\\
When the steaming mugs had been passed around, Hannu
seated himself on the bench next to the long table, leaning forward
with his elbows on his knees. "I'm sorry for the delay, but I had to
be sure."
"Was it something we said, or did you have us checked out?
Your exit when we heard that birdcall was rather convenient,"
Mulder commented mildly.
Hannu smiled wryly. "It seems I might just as well have
had him knock. Bicar, your host for last night, has a
somewhat...checkered...past. He still has several contacts which are
useful from time to time. One of those is a Black Mage several
candlemark's journey from here, who, unbeknownst to him, has been
a valuable source of information about the goings-on in the world of
the Black Arts."
"You suspected us of being in league with a Black Mage?"
Scully asked incredulously.
"When dealing with Black Magic, anything may be
possible - the disguising of an aura, for example. While no spell is
known to exist for that, it is always within the realm of possibility.
As far as I could tell, you were who and what you claimed to be, but
I had to make certain. Once before we had a visitor who tricked us
all, and who could have caused the deaths of everyone in the
village."
"What happened to the visitor?" questioned Shannon.
"We thought since she desired so much to be amongst us,
that we would ensure that she got her wish. She is now that very
attractive fountain you may have noticed on your way through the
village." He hesitated a moment, then went on. "I am now secure
that there is no dissembling here, that your mission is as you say. I
am also sure that there is something you're holding back, but I feel
that it's relatively benign."
"Does that mean that you'll answer our questions now, that
you'll help us?" Mulder asked. At Hannu's nod, he continued. "Did
Bicar's source give him any idea of who our enemy is?"
"Oh, that. I've always known that. It could be no one else.
There's only one with the power and the blackness of heart to cause
these deeds. She's a very powerful Black Mage."
"The dark lady of Daanna's dreams!" Scully breathed.
"You have personal knowledge of her?" guessed Mulder.
"Unfortunately. We met once, ages ago. It was not a
cordial meeting."
Mulder started, then began digging around in his
saddlebags. Triumphantly, he pulled out the tapestry Reinald had
given him and unrolled it. "Was it anything like this?"
Taking the tapestry, Hannu chuckled as he scanned it.
"Well, let's say this is a highly idealized account. The actual
confrontation was much less attractive."
Scully returned the Mage's smile. "What happened?"
"I guess you could say we had a difference of opinion
concerning the ethical use of magic," he responded dryly. "Neither
of us was willing to capitulate to the other, as the stakes were rather
high. We fought," he finished simply.
"Legend has it that both of you disappeared after that
battle," probed Mulder. "It was thought that both of you were dead.
Where did you disappear to? How did it happen?"
He sighed. "When you deal with magical power of the
magnitude we were, anything can happen. And it did. I think that's
all I want to say about it for now. Eventually, I found my way back.
It appears that she did, too."
"Tell us about her," Scully urged.
"I don't know her name - I don't know if anybody does. She
subscribes to the old school, where it is thought that if your enemy
knows your name, he holds a kind of power over you. I know that
she is as beautiful on the outside as she is twisted and evil on the
inside.
"As to her motives and the task we have cut out for us - she
has immense power fueled by a limitless hatred of those she feels
wronged her. She is the last of a dynasty of Mage-kings and queens
who were devoted to the use and promulgation of the Black Arts.
Her father was destroyed by one of his own spells - a little revenge
spell he was cooking up because he blamed Blue Mages for the
death of his wife. In fact, Blue Mages had nothing to do with it.
From the ancient records which recounted her symptoms, she
succumbed to a plague that was raging in that part of our land at the
time. But he never saw it that way. So he was killed, and his two
daughters fled their ancestral home into the surrounding swamp.
Today it's called Witch Tears Swamp, supposedly because of the
unearthly sounds of weeping and moaning heard there after they
were banished. Only one of the sisters survived. The vow of
vengeance has sustained her since that time. Evidently she has
decided to wait no longer to carry out her oath."
"When you fought before, the legend says that the battle
ended in a draw," Mulder said. "Did you get any insight from that?"
He was seriously worried. An enemy with so much power that
Hannu could not conquer her was a frightening thought. Now that
they had enlisted Hannu's aid, it was time to try to formulate some
sort of battle plan.
The Mage rose and stood by the fire, thinking. Slowly, he
replied, "Knowledge is the key. I pulled out every spell I could
think of and it was not enough. And, meaning no offense, I
probably knew far more spells even then than you and Reinald
combined know now. Even with those I have added since that time
so long ago, I still have none that I have any confidence could defeat
this enemy."
"Well, still, there must be some safety in numbers," Mulder
persisted hopefully. "There would be you and Reinald and myself.
Between us we should have enough power."
"Possibly," Hannu muttered. Louder, he said "If we had the
right spell to convert that power into something deadly. I have
heard of Reinald, certainly he is a great and powerful Mage. But
much may have happened since you left Fairwoods." Noting their
alarmed expressions, he said quickly, "No, I don't mean that he is
injured, or worse. No, I merely meant that he may have already
expended a certain amount of that power in fighting the spells of the
Black Mage. In his position, that's what I would be doing."
"And will expend more power if he constructs a Gate to
bring us back," Mulder added glumly.
Hannu nodded. "That's true. So we can't count on Reinald.
And you - you have your own problems."
"Me?"
"How do you think you're going to be able to function with
your present lifebond difficulties? Believe me, you will have to be at
the top of your form and unfettered from your need to be in physical
contact with Warrior Healer Scully if you are to be effective. In your
present state you'll be useless, a danger certainly to yourself and your
bondmate, and possibly to Reinald and me. No, like it or not, no
matter how urgently you wish to enjoin the battle against the Black
Mage, you're going to have to get this lifebond problem out of the
way first."
"We don't have the time -" Scully began.
"No - you don't have a choice. If you don't do something
about this now, your bondmate and you will not survive. You will be
of precious little use to the Realm if you're dead." Hannu was firm.
"So do you know what's wrong?" Scully asked. "Can you
fix it? You have the answer?"
His eyes twinkled as he crossed the hearth area to sit near
to them. "Yes, I believe I have the answer. In fact, you have had
the answer nearly at your fingertips all along."
The bondmates, puzzled, looked at one another and then
back to the Mage, disbelief clear on their faces. Clasping their right
hands in his own, he lifted their hands and spoke with solemn
certainty.
"It's your rings!"
End of Chapter Eighteen
THE DARK QUEEN
The Magician - Book Three
by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and
Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files
belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the
remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter Nineteen - PG13
"The rings?"
Mulder's voice was sharp with surprise. Hannu nodded,
gazing at them with narrowed eyes. The older Mage shook his head,
sighing.
"So much has been lost, so much of the old knowledge
gone. And I cannot even be sure if it is a good thing or not.
Regardless...yes, the rings. I thought when I saw the two of you
wearing them, Mage and lifebonded Companion, that you knew that
much at least. It is a rare spell, true, but these are obviously bond-
rings. The stones are the center of the power, but it is traditional to
wear them this way."
Mulder and Scully were glancing from their rings to him
with confusion in their eyes, and he paused, rubbing unhappily at
his beard. "It's not often done, even in the ancient past it was used
only by the most powerful Mages," he explained. "The rings serve a
number of useful purposes, increasing focus and range, extending
awareness, but most importantly, acting as a method of keeping
control. Power such as yours, Mulder, can be a terrible gift..." He
paused as the other Mage's expressive face darkened, the hazel eyes
glinting. Hannu inclined his head in acknowledgment of the
unspoken, familiar fears, then continued smoothly. "Control is, and
always should be, a Mage's watchword. Which is why some choose a
Companion." The word was patently capitalized, causing Scully's
eyebrow to lift. Hannu gave her the faintest of smiles.
"A Companion is another person, one who has no magical
talent, yet is always someone of unusual sensi