Date: 31 May 1995 00:54:09 GMT The Magician An X-File Story by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@aol.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@aol.com) Disclaimer: The X-Files, and the characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, and all rights thereto, are the property of FOX Broadcasting Network. The remainder of this story is the property of the authors. All comments are welcome. Authors' note: This story is a small departure from most X-Files fanfiction. At its heart, it is a fantasy, a slightly deeper trip into the 'realm' of make-believe. Sit back, relax, suspend your disbelief, and let us tell you a tale. Enjoy! Prologue: He was under no illusions - he was running for his life. Here, in the deepest part of the forest where the two realms abutted, there was only one possible haven, the one that Reinald had told him to seek. The wind-whipped branches lashed at his face as he crashed through the dark and the rain, his pursuers terrifyingly close behind. The baying of the Hunters and the shriek of the Destroyers were increasingly loud in his quivering ears as he headed by instinct to the only possible escape; if indeed that's what it was - for nothing had ever returned alive from the Vortex. He couldn't be sure he wasn't heading into disaster, but with certain death nipping at his heels, the choice was clear. He leapt over fallen trees and gnarled roots, panting, his chest on fire with the need for air. He thought briefly - only briefly - of his loved ones and the life he would be leaving behind, then ruthlessly set those thoughts aside. Right now, he needed to focus on survival. While the baying and shrieks grew ever nearer, he finally saw his only chance at survival just a few hundred meters away. He could hear the low pitched roar of the Vortex as he forced his exhausted limbs onward. Sandwiched between the pursuing fiends and the boiling, flashing nothingness of the Vortex, he hesitated for the briefest of seconds, then the sour scent of the Hunters and the nauseating stench of the Destroyers strengthened his resolve. They couldn't be more than fifty meters behind. As he heard their shouts of impending triumph come closer and closer, he drew a deep breath and hurled himself into the center of the Vortex. A scream of terror echoed faintly in his ears as he fell through a spinning web of light and shadow. Fell endlessly, head over heels, over and over, until finally... ...he crashed onto the floor of a cold, dark, cheerless chamber, filled with equipment and metal tables and storage spaces. Certainly different from what he was accustomed to, but for the moment, safe. He curled up into a ball in a corner of the room and slept. - - - - - //Reinald stared into the Oracle Cloud - Tarnor was safe. But to bring him back would take all of the Mage's wisdom and power. No one else had ever been able to do it - he wasn't certain that even he could. Especially now, when both his strength and that of the Realm itself were being assailed on all sides.... Think, think! Reinald blinked and rubbed his eyes. He was already exhausted from the search. If he did not find Another soon, someone with the strength to join with him - melding their powers together in defense against the great evil - then the Realm would be lost. Perhaps Tarnor would be better off wherever he was. Focusing back on his lost friend, Reinald could get only fragmented impressions of that strange place. The darkly clouded images, augmented by a few sensations, smells and tastes, were obtained less through the Cloud than from his link with Tarnor. Focusing his thoughts with fierce determination, he sent a message along that link to comfort himself as much as Tarnor, "I will not forget - I will bring you back - have courage".// Chapter One Washington D.C. Monday, March 6, 1995 8:30 a.m. "Scully, you're going to love this one." Mulder grinned up at his partner as she entered their cramped basement office. Scully closed the door behind her and made her way over to her desk. From her expression, and the careless way she dumped her briefcase on the desk, her week was not starting out well. "Mulder, when you say that, I know the day is shot. Bad enough that I overslept, had no hot water for my shower and put a huge hole in my last pair of hose. Just let me get some coffee before I become homicidal." He pushed her steaming mug across the desk at her and smiled. "All ready for you, Scully." She picked it up and sipped at the hot liquid gratefully, perching herself on the edge of the desk. After a couple of swallows, she looked up at him with suspicion. "Oh, God, now I KNOW I'm going to hate it. Okay, I'll bite - what is it - Elvis has fathered an alien baby and we're invited to the christening, or what?" "I'm hurt, Scully." He feigned taking an arrow through the heart, then he favored her with a glowing smile. Leaping up to lean over the desk, he placed his lips near her ear and whispered conspiratorially, "Read this and BE AMAZED." He handed her an X-File with a low ID number, then sat back down in his chair as she flipped through it, scanning the documents, her eyes widening as she studied the photographs. "Mulder, this is impossible." Her partner watched with mixed amusement and amazement as one auburn eyebrow inched its way up her forehead. She could have given "Mr. Spock" lessons in how to display that look of intellectual incredulity. "Evidently not," he replied, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands over his knees. "These photographs were taken at MIT. The file was started in 1951 after the first occurrence. Entries have been made on an irregular basis six times since then. All of the occurrences have been similar. A creature, for want of a better word, suddenly appears in one of the labs - always the same one - on the MIT campus. This lab is always kept locked when no one is actually working in it, which apparently is most of the time. It's opened only on days when certain experiments are being done using certain equipment. Because of the classified nature of the experiments, the room isn't even unlocked for cleaning, so it often stays locked for weeks at a time. In the occurrences from 1951 to 1987, the creatures discovered in the lab were dead, probably from starvation or dehydration . But it's a little different this time. This time, Scully, we've got a live one." - - - - - They were boarding a plane to Logan International Airport less than ninety minutes later. Scully hadn't bothered to protest. When Mulder got on the trail of a case like this, he was impossible to derail. Either she went with him, or he went alone. At least if she was with him, she could possibly keep him out of trouble. Of course, there was also the small part of her that was fascinated by the case itself. She didn't like to admit it, but sometimes she really was curious about the weird events they investigated, and this was one of those times. Finally settling into their seats after a terrifyingly fast dash to the airport, Scully was appreciative, as she often was when they traveled, that her smaller size made squeezing into the cramped seats relatively easy for her. As usual Mulder's long legs were crammed into an uncomfortable position, one splayed out into the aisle. Mulder grimaced at Scully as he adjusted his position yet again, then opened the briefcase he was still holding in his lap. He might as well take full advantage of the flight time to fill her in on more of the details. He spread the photographs out on the their tray tables. "You'll notice that of the seven creatures, there are three distinct types, which they have imaginatively named Type A, Type B and Type C. The types are divided on the basis of size, facial and body characteristics, and so on. The latest arrival is a Type B - what I personally prefer to call the Gargoyle series, as opposed to the Troll series and the Elf series. It stands approximately one meter tall and weighs 19 kilograms, although the weight was probably not accurate, as the creature was neither enthusiastic nor cooperative about being weighed. It does not appear to understand any of the languages which have been tried - the count stands at thirty five - but researchers on the scene say that they feel the creature is intelligent, and they are still seeking ways to communicate with it. Apparently, it is drinking sterilized water, but has refused food so far." "Mulder, where did this thing come from?" Scully questioned, pulling one of the photographs closer to study it intently. "And please, please don't say what I think you're going to say." "Believe it or not, I wasn't," he replied, leaning back in the chair, angling his head to the side to look down at the top of her head, still bent over the glossy photos. "There have been several theories throughout the years. One is that these poor creatures are the results of experiments done in genetics at MIT, and somehow, they were inadvertently locked in the room and were not able to get out. If they are the results of genetics experiments, no one has admitted to it, which is hardly surprising. Another theory of the early fifties - and the favorite of paranoiacs everywhere - is that they were beings created by the Soviets to spy on us and take our most valuable research. The theory does not go on to explain how these beings were supposed to blend in with the indigenous population," he added dryly. "In any case, I think we can rule that theory out - our Type B doesn't understand Russian. Anyway, the bodies of the others were taken by "someone in the government" according to sources at MIT, although no one will ever know who - there's no paper trail, no evidence other than what MIT sent the Bureau for inclusion in the X-Files, and no one's volunteering any information. I have my own ideas about that, but knowing won't get us any further ahead anyway. So in answer to your question, Scully, I don't know where they came from. That's one of the things we're here to find out." - - - - - After landing and collecting their baggage, they joined the continuous traffic jam that IS Boston and drove the three miles from the airport to MIT in the record time of one hour and fifteen minutes. They found the building in question quickly. Oddly, there seemed to be little excitement, possibly because the students and the professors were so focused in their individual pursuits that they were unaware of the extraordinary events taking place down the hall. They knocked at the door to Lab 301, and it was opened by a gaunt older man in a lab coat. "Professor Neumann? I'm Fox Mulder, this is Dana Scully. I spoke to you earlier today." Mulder and Scully displayed their I.D. photos. The professor took hold of Mulder's I.D. and studied it thoroughly, nodded, and stepped back to let them enter. In answer to their quizzical expressions, he said, "It's in the lab proper - this is just the prep room. My assistant and I still haven't had any luck communicating with it. It is non- aggressive and appears to be frightened. I'd say it hadn't been in the lab very long when we found it. It was thirsty, but appears to be in good shape otherwise. We're trying to keep this under wraps as much as possible. I was here the last time this happened in '87. The attitude of the government-types who took charge of the creature's body and interrogated everyone here reminded me of the Gestapo. This is a living being, and I believe an intelligent one. I would not willingly trust its fate to people like that. Well, do you think you're ready?" He smiled wryly and shook his head. "Believe me, you will never be totally prepared for what you're about to see." Neumann lightly rapped an irregular series of knocks on the inner door. A few seconds later it was opened by a middle- aged woman who, recognizing Neumann, admitted them. The room they entered was almost thirty feet in length and twenty feet in width, and was divided in half lengthwise by a long, gleaming stainless steel work table. The long sides of the room were lined with metal counters, with storage compartments above and below. Scattered on the counters were computers, a laser and other space-age equipment. Neumann and the woman, both dressed in identical white lab-coats, went to stand on one side of the long table; on the other, in the furthest corner of the room from the doorway in which they were standing, squatted the creature. "Oh Mulder - oh, my God!" Scully backed up a step, eyes dilating with amazement. Mulder brushed past her, curiosity and delight written upon his face. The two agents remained at the head of the table observing the creature. It was roughly humanoid in appearance and clothed in a blue leather-like tunic, with a large brown pouch bound to its silver buckled belt. It was a steel gray in color except for the palms of its hands and the soles of its feet, which were darker, almost black. Its skin had a leathery appearance, and it was scattered with coarse looking black hair. There was no way to tell if the creature was male or female though it did have a short, stubby tail protruding out from under its short tunic. The joints were knobby, enlarged, and the hands and feet were disproportionately big and deformed- looking, by human standards. Its face was grotesque, with a huge mouth, rather alarming pointed teeth, a spreading nose, and tiny eyes. Wide, pointed ears stood out from its head. Swinging around to take in Mulder and Scully, the creature's ears popped up to their full length and its chest rose and fell rapidly. It slowly moved to a standing position. Tarnor stared at the newcomers. These two did not have the weak, pastel aura of the woman. They didn't even have the Thin One's light gray aura of the intellectual. These were the types of beings he was more familiar with, beings surrounded by warm, strong, vibrantly colored auras. The Short One's aura was unique - the healer's brown at the center, with a wide border of warrior green. The two colors swirled and mixed in intricate patterns where they met. Tarnor had never seen such a combination before. Then his eyes turned to her tall, male companion. Great Deities above! Tarnor blinked, then looked again. The fierce blue of this human's aura rivaled Reinald's own, almost blinding in its intensity. It glowed, clear and pure, like the cloudless sky on a bright summer's noon. At last, something familiar - it was greatly reassuring that this frightening strange place had magicians too. Surely a magician as powerful as this one would understand Tarrnor's predicament. Tentatively, Tarnor focused his thoughts and energy and tried to reach out to the Tall One. He was not accomplished at establishing links yet, at least not with anyone except Reinald, but if he could find an ally in this strange land... Mulder instinctively put his hand out for balance as a wave of dizziness and nausea struck him. Scully grabbed his arm to steady him. "Mulder, are you all right? Do you want to sit down? You're white as a sheet!" "I - I think I... No, it's gone now. I'm fine. Must be jet lag or something." From the way that Scully looked at him, Mulder knew they'd be talking about this later. The creature was now squatting again, and appeared withdrawn. It closed its eyes for several minutes, its breathing slowed, and it appeared as if it had gone to sleep. Suddenly, it stood again, looked at Mulder, and took a few experimental steps towards him. The woman scientist instinctively took a step back as the creature emerged from the corner. This was new - up to now, it had not approached anyone, but had only retreated and assumed a defensive posture. Mulder, Scully and Neumann held their ground as the creature came several steps closer, now only about fifteen feet away. Mulder squatted down, wanting to avoid intimidating the creature by equalizing their heights. Unfortunately, the position also impeded his ability to move quickly if necessary. He hoped that wouldn't be necessary since he desperately wanted to communicate with it. He had so many questions. "I hope you know what you're doing," Scully said softly. She and Neumann paced back a couple of steps, and she slid her hand unobtrusively to the handle of her gun, never taking her eyes off the strange creature. It continued to advance, now within a few feet. Mulder extended his arms, resting them on his knees, and held out both hands, palms up, debating whether or not to look the creature right in the eyes. Although a sign of honesty and forthrightness in Westerners, a direct stare was interpreted as a challenge in some human and animal cultures. While Mulder was considering the question, his eyes still focused on the creature's feet, it took one more step, then squatted and extended its hands to within an inch of Mulder's. For a minute or two, they were motionless. Then Mulder closed the distance to gently touch his hands to the creature's and looked into its face. Everyone watching felt their breath catch and hold in their throats. There was a change of expression on the creature's face as the contact took place, a relaxation of sorts. It placed one of its dry palms flat against Mulder's, and slowly and carefully placed the heel of its other hand against Mulder's forehead, its eyes locked with his. They froze in that position for several minutes, their expressions vacant. Then, ever so slowly, the emptiness on their faces cleared and the creature broke contact. It got back up onto its feet, walked back to its corner in its peculiar rolling gait, and sat. The room breathed again. Mulder stood unsteadily, and again, Scully anchored him. "Professor Neumann, we still need to check in at the hotel, and Agent Mulder seems to be having a recurrence of his hypoglycemia and needs to eat - could we return this evening?" "Absolutely. I should be here until ten or so. This interaction just now - incredible. Makes me sorry I went in for Physics instead of Zoology." The professor eyed the creature with an expression of mixed hunger and curiosity. "We'll see you tonight then. Thank you." Scully put her arm around Mulder's back and supported him as they left the room. Mulder was silent as they walked out of the building and found the car in the parking lot. "I'll drive, Mulder." Scully insisted, watching him with concern. He nodded silently and flipped Scully the keys, which she deftly caught. After they were both settled in their seats, she turned the engine over, and drove out of the parking lot. They traveled along Memorial Drive to their hotel, the buildings of MIT and then Harvard on their right, the Charles River and the Boston skyline to their left. Scully slid a glance over to her still-silent partner. He was pale, and his fingers trembled slightly. Concerned, she asked, "How close did I come to the truth? DO you need to eat?" "It wouldn't hurt." Mulder said absently. They turned into the parking lot of the Hyatt Regency - a concession Mulder had made to Scully's bad mood earlier in the day. While Mulder registered for the two of them, Scully stopped at the coffee shop and got some sandwiches and fruit juice. When they got to their rooms, they opened the communicating door, threw down their baggage, and Scully spread the food out on the table in her room. "Sorry, no iced tea, they don't have it in the winter up here, apparently." "S'alright." He started eating his tuna on toast, his mind most definitely elsewhere. She noticed that although his color had improved, he was still trembling slightly. They ate in companionable quiet for a while, although Scully was beginning to get impatient. Finally, her patience exhausted, she cleared her throat and dived in. "Okay, Mulder, talk." His head jerked up as if he were noticing her presence for the first time. He centered on her with an effort. "All right, Scully, but I don't think you're going to like it." "What was all that crap about jet lag, Mulder?" she asked heatedly. "Nobody gets jet lag from a one hour flight in the same time zone. What the hell was wrong with you in there?" Yawning, he rubbed his face with his hands, then sat back. "I think it was trying to communicate with me. Well, actually, I KNOW it was trying to communicate with me. The first time, when it was still across the room I was aware of - images mostly, and colors and odors and tastes, all of them strange, and so sharp and clear they were almost painful. The sensations definitely did not originate with me, they had to be coming from the creature. The images made no sense, as far as I could tell. Anyway, I guess I got overloaded by all the stimuli or something, because after a few seconds, it became intolerable and I felt like I was going to pass out." "Which you nearly did. You took a hell of a chance letting that thing get close to you," Scully said with annoyance. He was always putting himself into dangerous situations. "Not really, Scully. I think it was pretty obvious that it didn't mean any harm," Mulder protested. "Obvious to you, maybe. But it could have hurt you without meaning to. And don't forget that we have no idea what kind of foreign bacteria and viruses this thing might carry." He shrugged. "It was worth the risk. When it got close and touched me, I was again sure that there was communication taking place. But, there was something different. It seemed like I was communicating with a different being. The images I was getting were much less intense, more controlled. How can I explain it?" He grimaced in frustration for a second, then said, "Kind of like looking at two completely different handwriting samples, or pictures by two different artists. The feeling I got the first time was totally different the second time. It was still images, sensations - totally nonverbal. But the images were toned down, more coherent, more understandable." "So what did you get from them?" she asked, curious despite herself. Sheepishly, he looked up at her. "Uh - this is the part you're probably not going to like." She smiled sweetly. "Don't worry about it, Mulder. I haven't been crazy about any of it so far." "You asked for it," he warned, then he sighed. "I got an impression of another place, not of this world, but not of any other world either. A kind of ... maybe a ... I don't know, maybe a parallel reality? I can't really pin it down any better than that. I had visions of impending bloodshed, lots of it - that came through loud and clear. And also a kind of Manichaean Good versus Evil thing, with the smart money on Evil." He shook his head as if to clear it. "Sorry, Scully, I don't know why I'm so tired, but I feel wiped out. Mind if I..." "Help yourself," she replied. Mulder got up, walked over to one of the beds, stretched out on it and almost groaned in relief. Scully observed him for a moment and then said, "Have you given any thought to the idea that maybe all this communicating isn't exactly healthy for you?" "No. Scully, wait. You have to hear the rest." Mulder was fighting a losing battle against the sleepiness which was rapidly becoming overwhelming. "See, the thing is, whatever I was communicating with, it ... it sees us - you and me - as different ... from the other people it's come across here. And Scully ... it needs us ... the healer and the magician...." He trailed off as sleep finally overcame him. "Yeah, right Mulder." Scully took the extra blanket from the shelf in her closet. She removed his shoes, then carefully covered him, restraining her impulse to ruffle his hair. He could drive her to distraction sometimes with his almost child- like recklessness and gullibility. She turned on the radio to the local NPR station, keeping the volume low, and cleared away the remains of lunch. Then she unpacked her things, and crossing through to his room, unpacked for him. Finally she sat and started the field reports, to the accompaniment of Brahm's First Symphony and Mulder's soft snores. - - - - - ========================================== Chapter One - Part 2 "Mulder...Mulder, it's six thirty." Scully was sitting on the edge of the bed, neatly dressed in her favorite blue suit, her bright auburn hair still damp from her shower. She reached out and brushed the dark bangs of his forehead tenderly. He awakened instantly, as he usually did, although it took a few more seconds for his brain to actually function. He sat up, blinked and surveyed his surroundings. "The hotel," he said, with a hint of question in his tone. "Yes. Mulder, are you all right? You seem kind of disoriented." Concerned, Scully leaned over and looked into his eyes, checking his pupils. "I'm fine, Scully. I guess I just didn't take much notice when we checked in. Stay for a minute, I want to finish what I was telling you about, before we go back to the lab." He pulled himself up to a semi-seated position. "I have to tell you," she answered. " I'm very uneasy about all this. There's too much of an "Alice in Wonderland" feel to it. I'm not sure I want to look for an explanation of all of this." Scully met his eyes directly, not holding back the uncertainty she felt. Mulder nodded. "I think that when the explanation comes, it will be the LEAST bizarre aspect of the whole case. Right now you have to hear me out and we have some decisions to make, because I have a feeling our time is limited. Sooner or later, whoever took charge of the corpses of the other creatures will hear about the latest arrival, and will show up on the scene. I would prefer it if there were nothing for them to find." "You don't seriously think you're going to be able to hide that thing somewhere, do you?" "Hiding it wasn't what I had in mind." His eyes glittered, as the corners of his mouth edged upwards. "Mulder, should I start getting scared now, because I don't like that look in your eyes." She tilted her head sideways, watching him with slightly narrowed eyes. Just what was he up to? "Scully, believe me, I know how hard this sort of thing is for you, but just hear me out, and try to keep an open mind, okay?" He threw back the blanket and got out of bed. As he prowled around the room, he tried to find the words to explain. "I learned a lot from the second link with the creature. As I was telling you, there are two Realms in this parallel reality, or whatever it is. The visions of these Realms were so richly textured, it would probably take me days to mention every detail I saw. Some of the images were so beautiful they brought tears to my eyes, and some were so gruesome, so grotesque, so abhorrent that I was nauseated. I could sense time and everything else in a very different way. I don't know whether the Communicator helped me to interpret these images, or I did it on my own, or what; I suspect a bit of both. Anyway, the creature in the lab is a sort of assistant to the second being I communicated with. He's here by accident - it was the only place he could go. There is a kind of portal that exists between that reality and ours - that's how the creatures get here. So far, their use of the portal has either been experimental or accidental. I saw visions of how the other creatures had ended up here. The first three were experiments, unsuccessful ones, seeing as they were unable to get back to their own reality. They were trapped in the locked room and died. Our Type B was running for his life and dove through the portal seconds before he would have been killed." "Killed by what?" Scully angled her head to get into a better position to follow his movements around the room. "By the Others - the beings that exist in the Other Realm. This is hard - I don't know what to call anything, because as I said, this was all nonverbal so I don't have names or labels. According to the Communicator, the Others are a bloodthirsty race, Evil incarnate. The forces of the Others are being gathered because soon there will be a war for control of both Realms. The Realm of the Communicator will surely lose, because its people are peaceful and have no experience with all- out war, not in living memory anyway. There is a prophecy however that speaks of two magicians who could join their powers together to defeat the Others. The Communicator is one of those magicians. He's been searching for Another." Mulder was silent for a few minutes, then sat on one of the beds, his hands together, steepled, his fingers resting on his upper lip. "We seem to have captured the Communicator's attention, Scully." "How? And why us?" Scully's tone was suspicious. "Evidently, the creature here can serve as a kind of conduit. The Communicator sees us through it. As to why us..." he turned to look at her with a half-apologetic smile. "It is apparently under the impression that we can help it out, an impression it received from our auras. It spotted you immediately as a healer of great ability, combined with warrior capabilities, something that's very unusual and powerful in its world." "And what's your aura, Mulder?" she asked with a tinge of amusement creeping into her expression. His smile turned more apologetic. "Uh - evidently, it feels that I may be the magician it's been looking for." Scully shook her head, incredulous. "You don't actually believe all this, do you? Please tell me you don't believe it, Mulder." Mulder's smile faded, and his jaw set in a stubborn line. "At this point, I don't believe or disbelieve. I don't know if it was telling the truth, but I know what I saw and felt and sensed." Scully stood up, obviously exasperated. "And of course you 'want to believe'. Mulder, hasn't that caused you enough trouble and grief? Aren't there enough people in the Bureau who think you're crazy? You are risking the status of the X-Files, Mulder - they could close us down again! And there's no way I'm filing a field report that reads like it's been written by J.R.R. Tolkien!" Mulder came to halt, turning to look down at her, his voice also raised. "What are the X-Files for, Scully? They're to record the truth, no matter how inconvenient or unconventional that truth might be. All I'm asking is that we go back and try to communicate with it again. That, and keep it out of the hands of the NSA or Cancer Man or whoever else may show up to try to take it." Scully took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to remember that what she most loved and respected about Mulder was also what made her the most crazy. "Okay, Mulder. How about we go to the lab, you communicate with it, and we'll worry about the rest later?" Mulder nodded. "Okay, good enough." He hesitated, then said more softly, "I'm really not trying to be difficult, you know. I just - " "I know, Mulder - you just believe more passionately than is good for you, sometimes. You'd better go take a shower and change. You're a mess." She looked pointedly at him. He peered down at himself and grimaced. Sleeping in his suit had not done it any good, the expensive material was crumpled and wrinkled. Sighing, he stripped off the jacket and yanked at his tie as he hurried into her bathroom. About ten minutes later, his head peeked out the door. "Unh, Scully..." "Finish your shower, Mulder," she answered laughing. "I'll get your clothes." - - - - - They were at the lab about an hour later. Again, Professor Neumann answered their knock. His face was pinched and anxious as he said, "I'm glad you got here when you did. I just got a call from a friend that works at Lincoln Labs out at Hanscom Air Force Base. Some "recovery team" has been scrambled from there. She said they were headed our way. She doesn't know about our mutual friend in there, but I can think of only one thing such a team might be interested in." Mulder became very alert, very focused. "How long do we have?" "With luck, about thirty minutes. No more, probably less." The professor backed up and let them enter the room. "Okay," Mulder considered their options for a moment, his brow crinkling in concentration. "Professor, if you and your colleague would please stay in the prep room and do everything you can to delay them. Get campus security to try to stop them, arrange a sit-in downstairs, anything you can think of. Just remember that the people directing this team are ruthless. Don't put yourself or anyone else in any danger. By the way, can you tell me what kind of experiments are carried out in this room?" "I can't get very specific - national security and all that." The professor shook his head. "Very generally speaking, we're doing some experiments involving the space-time continuum. I don't feel comfortable saying any more than that. All right, we'll do everything we can to slow the recovery team down. As I said, I was here in '87." "Thank you." Mulder frowned, feeling his typical exasperation with government secrecy. "Scully, let's go." His face lightened as a new thought occurred. "Too bad there's no People for the Ethical Treatment of Gargoyles, huh?" He smiled while Scully groaned an exaggerated sigh. Neumann unlocked the door to the lab, took another look at the creature while they entered, then locked the door after them. Mulder walked about half-way to the creature and sat on the floor. The creature immediately came up to him, sat, and placed its hands on Mulder's palm and forehead again. This time they were motionless for at least fifteen minutes. The creature withdrew its hands, and Mulder looked up at Scully who was waiting across the room and called her over to them. His eyes were intense. "Okay, decision time. The Communicator, whose name is evidently Reinald, thinks he's figured out a way to get the creature back through the portal to its own reality. He would like the two of us to accompany it - he thinks that only by our intercession can his Realm - and possibly the entire parallel reality - be saved." Mulder paused for a moment. "I think we have to let the creature try to go back; it doesn't belong here and will probably be dissected inside of a week if it stays. The portal may not function, in which case all of this is moot. Or the portal may function improperly, in which case anything that goes through it may not arrive in the same condition it left here. The creature is willing to give it a try. I've been honest with it about what may happen if it stays here." He stared at her directly. "I'm willing to give it a try, too." "Mulder, you're not serious. You can't be serious about this." Scully looked from her partner to the creature, then back to Mulder again. But before he could respond, their attention was diverted by the sound of approaching sirens, squealing brakes, and shouted orders. "I'd like you to come with us, Scully." Mulder tried to ignore the noise, hoping he had time to convince her. "Reinald is convinced that the chances of success improve dramatically if you're involved. He said something about a prophecy." Scully looked at him wide-eyed, hardly believing what she was hearing. "Mulder, wake up. This is not a dream and you are not, I repeat, NOT a magician. We're not going, Mulder, neither of us. If the creature wants to try a disappearing act, that's fine, but we - WE - are staying here." Desperately, Scully looked for anything she could use to bring him to his senses, even if it meant playing dirty. "Please, Mulder, you can't leave. Your work is here. And so am I." By now, there was the sound of booted feet in the hallway. Mulder bit his lip and nodded, bitter disappointment etched into his face. He looked at the creature, and they resumed their communication position for a minute. Then the creature dropped its hands and closed its eyes. They could hear sounds of shouting in the prep room. "Oh, God, I'm dizzy." Mulder's slender frame shook as he attempted to stand. "Quick, Scully, help me up. We have to move out of the way - the portal is going to op...." The recovery team from Hanscom kicked in the door to an empty lab. End Chapter 1 ========================================== Chapter Two - Part One Tarnor woke slowly, his entire body aching from head- to-toe. His nose was pressed down into sweet smelling grass, his feet resting on a small tree root. Groaning, he slowly turned onto his back and blinked up at the canopy of bright green and yellow leaves over his head. Warm bright streams of sunlight filtered down, dancing through the whispering leaves and gently waving branches. "Oooh, what a horrible dream," he muttered to himself, stumbling to his feet as he scratched the terminally itchy spot behind his right ear. It had seemed so real... "******," a throaty female voice grumbled behind him in a totally unfamiliar language. Tarnor spun around, ears flicking upright in shock as he watched a small red-haired woman dressed in utterly foreign clothing pull herself to her feet. By the Gods, the nightmare hadn't been a dream! It had been real! The spot behind his ear began to itch even harder as memories flooded him. If the woman was with him, then what had happened to the foreign magician? "********!!!," an aggrieved male voice shouted from above Tarnor's head. Oh no, he thought with dismay, his nose twitching. The magician had somehow ended up in a tree. He was stretched out on a thick tree branch, long arms and legs twined around it. Tarnor and the woman both stood up to their full heights, her head and shoulders above him, but neither anywhere close to reaching the increasing irritated man. Unfortunately, the tree he was suspended in was a large ancient oak with a several foot wide trunk and no branches close enough to the ground to enable one of them to climb up or for him to easily climb down. Utterly confused as to why the Magician didn't simply levitate himself down, Tarnor watched in amazement as the two strangers started to converse loudly - or was it argue - in their strange, dissonant speech. The woman seemed to be somewhat amused with the predicament her companion was in, her thin human lips baring white even teeth in a grin. The man still clinging to the tree-limb frowned down at her, his strong human features settling into carved stone, his green-brown eyes turning a stormy black. His fiery aura blazed around him, swirling blue fire so bright that it made Tarnor's eyes ache just looking in his direction. Tarnor found himself shuddering with fear, slowly backing away. The woman must be either extraordinarily brave or truly foolhardy. One did not have fun at the expense of such a powerful sorcerer and walk away unharmed. Even Reinald, who was a truly white magician, had a deep sense of his own authority. One young mage-apprentice who had pulled a practical joke on his seemingly-pleasant master had quickly found himself pulling wagons in the shape of a donkey for two weeks. And that was mild. Tarnor had grown up on horror stories about what less merciful sorcerers did to people who angered them. Already he could sense the tension growing in the air. The sunlight fled as a menacing cloud slowly formed above their heads. The trees themselves seemed to pull back, the leaves twitching in the sudden calm. The air felt heavy and charged. The woman waved up at the stranded man, bending her head back and laughing. The moment her first peel of laugher echoed in the air the storm broke, a lightning bolt flashing from the boiling cloud lancing down to hit the ground a few inches from her feet. She screamed and jumped backwards, losing her balance and falling to the ground as the sky opened and dumped a flood of rain directly on her head. The storm lasted for a only few brief seconds, but was still enough to leave her totally drenched. Once the deluge was over, Tarnor peeked out around the tree he had taken shelter under during the short downpour. Somewhat wet himself, but definitely in a better mood, the magician was laughing down at the woman who was sitting dejectedly in a large puddle, her bright hair plastered to her head, her dark-blue clothing soaked limp and mud-splattered. Given the way her aura was glowing a bright fighter's green, Tarnor was grateful not to be getting the benefit of her furious glare. "*************************," she said in an icy voice, her eyes stinging the still-giggling mage, who stopped laughing and grimaced in response. Then staring down at the ground about twice his height below him, he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. Then he swung his legs around so that he was sitting on the branch with his feet dangling off the same side. Holding on with his hands, he swung himself backwards until he was hanging from his knees. To Tarnor's utter astonishment, he dropped his knees and spun around the branch, suddenly releasing himself and somersaulting to the ground, landing on his feet, knees bending down, hands swinging behind him to pick up some of the shock of the landing. He took a slight hop, throwing his arms back up in the air, then came to full stop, his face warming into a brilliant smile. Tarnor edged closer to the woman, his feet squishing in the mud, as the mage walked closer to her from the opposite direction. Tarnor stood motionless behind her, watching anxiously as the tall man extended a hand down to the still-sitting woman. She ignored the hand for a long tense moment, then gave a deep sigh of resignation and took it, accepting his help to regain her feet. Even fully standing, her head only reached top of his chest, and the fact that the odd spikes on the bottom of her shoes were sunk deep into the ground didn't help. But from the warmth in the mage's eyes as he helped her out of the mud suggested that the worst was over for the moment. Still, Tarnor was terribly confused and frightened. They were miles from safety, with minions of the dark ones spread throughout the woods, and he could hardly communicate with this extraordinary couple. If all that weren't enough, it was becoming slowly evident that this was a totally untrained talent. How anyone could have survived to adulthood with SO much power, but with absolutely no training was beyond Tarnor's comprehension. But it had to be so, because otherwise, surely, the mage would at least have sense enough to shield himself. Or was he so arrogant in his power that he thought nothing could harm him? Tarnor could only sure that he didn't like either possibility. Getting these two safely to Fairwoods Castle was not going to be fun. - - - - - Dana Scully trudged along behind the strange, gray creature, her feet aching. She wasn't sure why she was following the odd-looking whatever-it-was, but Mulder had insisted, and she had nothing better to do but go along until she woke up. This was just an unusually vivid hallucination, she told herself again, even as she stumbled over a large tree root and nearly fell down. The gargoyle thing was at her side immediately, offering her a helping hand, which was more than she could say for Mulder who was rambling along behind them, studying everything he passed with great interest. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself. Back on her not too steady feet, Dana nodded thanks to the creature which bobbed his large head and spoke musically in an unfamiliar language. I ought to get this dream analyzed, Scully thought, my subconscious must be working overtime. But dream or not, she wanted out as quickly as possible. It was simply no fun being wet, dirty, and exhausted - dream or reality. She took a few more steps, then spotted a large boulder under a big leafy tree. Sighing with relief she turned towards it. She settled down onto the cool stone gratefully, pulling off her formerly navy blue pumps and eying them with annoyance. They had been her best pair of shoes, but now they were ruined. This had better be a dream, because otherwise she was really going to be mad. In the meantime, those heels had to go. Practical enough on tiled floors and concrete, they were functionally hopeless on dirt, grass, and tree roots. Closing her eyes in pain, she banged the shoes against the rock she was sitting on until the heels came off. Just as she was about to put the now-flat shoes back on her sore feet, she felt, more than saw, Mulder perch himself on the rock beside her. "You okay, Scully?" he asked, his bright eyes wide with concern "No, Mulder," she said patiently, like an adult talking to a young child. "My new shoes are ruined, as is my favorite suit. I'm still wet, my hair is a mess, and my feet are killing me. I'm hungry, lost in the middle of a nightmare and I can't wake up. I am most certainly not okay." "I'm sorry, Scully," Mulder replied. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't passed out on you, we might have been able to get out of the room before the vortex formed. You shouldn't be here." He gave her a dejected look. "I'm not convinced we're out of the room - or if we are, we're in a government lab somewhere getting pumped full of hallucinatory drugs. This has got to be a hallucination." She gestured expressively. "I'm just dreaming and I'll wake up soon." "Scully!" Mulder's voice rose in frustration. "This is hardly a hallucination. It's real." He banged hard on the rock. "How can you deny the evidence of your own eyes, your own senses?" "Very easily," she said, giving him an annoyed look and standing up abruptly. "And as far as I'm concerned you're just another figment of my imagination. But since I seem to be stuck in this for a while, we might as well get going to wherever it is we're going. Maybe I can at least dream myself up a shower and change of clothes, food and a clean bed." She stalked away, her back straight, head held high. Mulder shook his head and eased himself off the rock to follow her. Their 'guide' started off again, looking back at them every so often to make sure that they were following close enough behind it. - - - - - The forest seemed endless. They wandered for hours, the grey-skinned creature always in the lead, stopping and waiting impatiently for them every time they fell behind, leaping on ahead when they caught up. He kept up a fast pace, his ears twitching as he rolled along though the heavy underbrush. The sunlight filtering down through the trees slowly began to wane, dusk turning what had seemed a bright, green, and warm place into a world of menacing shadows and twisted unfamiliar shapes. Scully was lagging again, finally tired enough to put aside her annoyance and accept Mulder's offer of his arm. She leaned against him gratefully, admitting - albeit only to herself - that she was having a hard time holding onto the belief that this was only a dream. Her eyes closed once in exhaustion and she stumbled, falling to her knees with a cry of dismay. "Scully!" Mulder exclaimed, immediately bending down over her. "I'm okay. I'm okay," she said, though her face was screwed tight in pain. She felt like she wanted to cry. Mulder helped her up, then led her over to the shelter of a large oak. At least most of the plants seemed basically the same as those on earth, he thought, as they sat down among the roots and leaves. The 'gargoyle' as Mulder had come to think of him, bounced over to stand looking down at them. His tiny eyes studied them with what Mulder would have sworn was a look of impatience. "I'm sorry, my friend," he said wearily. "But we've had it. We've got to rest for a while. This seems like a nice enough place to make camp." Mulder looked around at the trees and bushes, thinking that it actually seemed exactly like every other bit of the forest they had trekked through for the past several hours. The 'gargoyle' looked over his shoulder, then back at them. Then he gave a sneezy sigh and came towards them, squatting down to sit close to Mulder's outstretched legs. Mulder smiled at him, putting his arm around Scully's shoulder guiding her head down to rest against his chest. She immediately closed her eyes and snuggled against him, her breathing becoming slow and steady as she drifted off to sleep. Mulder and the 'gargoyle' sat staring at each other for a while. The creature seemed almost expectant, like he was waiting for Mulder to do something. Could they communicate? Mulder hadn't tried since they'd arrived in this world, mostly because he didn't want to faint again. But now, since they were taking a rest anyway, maybe he could give it a try. But perhaps, they could start with something simpler first. When he was certain the gargoyle was watching him, he pointed to himself and said, "Mul-der,"slowly and clearly pronouncing each syllable. Then he pointed to Scully and said, "Scul-lee." He then slowly pointed his finger towards the 'gargoyle,' who reacted instantly, pulling away and wrapping his hands around his face and cowering. Hmmm, Mulder thought, finger pointing must have a negative cultural significance. How could he do this without upsetting him? Mulder waited until the gargoyle peeked out through his arms, then offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He pressed the flat of his hand against his own chest and said again, "Mul-der." He pressed his hand against Scully's shoulder and repeated, "Scul-lee." The creature's head poked out from behind his arms, his ears beginning to twitch. Mulder again repeated the movements and words slowly. Then, ever so slowly, he moved his hand towards the gargoyle, keeping fingers together, and pressed against his chest. The gargoyle recoiled again, but not as much as before. Mulder again repeated his circuit, "Mulder..Scully...;" he touched the creature again. Ears twitching even harder, the gargoyle bobbed his head. Opening his mouth, he spoke softly. "Mmool-dor. Ssskallee. Taaarnoor." Mulder grinned brightly as the sounds were repeated, this time accompanied by a mimicking of his hand motions. The excited creature pointed at Mulder, "Mooldar..." He pointed at Scully, "Skaallee...' He pointed at himself, "Tarnor." Mulder nodded and excitedly repeated: "Mulder, Scully, Tarnor!" Tarnor bobbed his head again, and bared large pointed teeth in smile. "Tarnor!" - - - - - Raising its long nose into the wind, the large wolf-like creature drew back its red lips, baring long jagged fangs dripping with saliva. The droplets sizzled as they hit the grass below, burning the green foliage to black cinders. Eyes burning yellow, ears laid back against its black-furred head, it sniffed again, then let loose a horrific keening howl that was soon answered in kind by several others. It leaped up onto its powerful hind legs, which ended in three-inch long claws, and raced deeper into the forest, joining up with one, then another, then yet another sleek dark form. - - - - - Tarnor shivered in fear as his sensitive ears responded to the howls whistling in the wind. His entire body tensed as he recognized the sound. Soul-eaters! Several of them by the sound of it. Ignoring Mulder's startled reaction, the small gray gargoyle jumped to his feet and spun around, eyes darting from shadow to shadow. This was why it had pushed them so hard to try to get to the safety of a village or settlement before dark fall. It hadn't been particularly frightened of the more intelligent creatures of the dark - the force of Mulder's aura and the purity of the power that flowed like clear spring water from every pore of the alien magician's body would be enough to frighten them away. The hunters and destroyers might watch and wait in the shadows, but they would never dare attack such magical strength. However, the soul-eaters were simple animals, driven solely by instinct. Mulder's wild, unshielded magic would smell like a rich source of food to them. Over the last few years, they had killed several newborn mages throughout the Realm. Tarnor shuddered, he had once seen the result of the attack of a pack of the soul-eaters on a small farm. Reinald had sent Tarnor to offer help and protection for the mage-gifted baby and its family, but he had arrived hours too late. There had been a large, empty crater where house and barn had once existed. Dying, the child had resisted the soul-eaters drain on her magic just long enough to blast them, herself, and her entire family into eternity. Another series of wrenching howls split the air, and this time Mulder's human ears could hear them too. He shook Scully gently as he rose swiftly to his feet. "Tarnor?" he questioned, fear beginning to trickle its way down his spine. "What was that?" He shook his head in frustration. Tarnor couldn't understand him, and he couldn't take the chance on the exhausting mental communication if danger threatened. If only there was a better way to communicate. "What...Mulder?" Scully murmured wearily, brushing a tangled knot of auburn hair out of her eyes. "I think we've got trouble," he replied, feeling for the security of his gun. She rubbed her sleep-filled eyes with the back of her hand, then came to sudden awareness as the keening wails grew louder in intensity. "Mulder, what was that?" "I don't know, Scully. But I don't like the sound of it, and neither does Tarnor." Mulder pointed to the little gargoyle who was standing nearby, stretched to his full - small - height with a large silver dagger clasped tightly in his right hand. "Tarnor?" Scully asked, glancing from her tall partner to the small creature and back again. "That's his name," Mulder replied. "We were able to exchange names while you were sleeping, but it looks there won't be time for anything more." Tarnor was moving again, waving at them to follow him as he pushed his way deeper into the heavy underbrush. Mulder and Scully eyed each other for a moment, but another high-pitched howl behind them sent them into rapid motion. Tarnor led them in a wild dash through the tangled woods, feeling his way almost by instinct. Scully was able to follow reasonably well, her small size helpful, although she often found herself falling, scrambling to her feet, and rushing forward only to fall again. The tender skin of her face, hands and arms became scratched and bruised by tree limbs, branches and thorns. One shoe got wedged in a tree-root, and she didn't even bother to try to dislodge it, she simply pulled her foot out of it and ran on. Behind her, Mulder was having an even harder time of it, his height becoming a serious liability as Tarnor led them through low-hanging branches and dense thickets of a thorny, ivy-like brush that grew in huge rambling clumps. Trying to force his lanky frame through one such hedge, he lost sight of both Scully and Tarnor. Before he could finish weeding his way through the tangled brush, a scream rent the air. "Scully!" he screamed, struggling against a thorn- covered tangle that had penetrating far enough through his now- ragged silk shirt to abrade the flesh of his chest. He tugged at it violently, hardly noticing the pain as the thorns bit deep into his hand. "Scully!" "Mulder...Aaaaaah!" her voice faded off into a screech, that was accompanied by a deep, inhuman growl. "Scully!" he cried again in frustration, his shirt ripping as he was finally able to pull clear, emerging into a small, moonlit clearing. The scene that met his eyes in a that brief terrifying instant sent waves of shock, fear, and fury through his body. In the darkness of the forest night the yellow light of two bright moons filtered down through the leafy canopy to hit the ground in wavy striations. In one such patch of light, Tarnor was facing two large animals, with jagged fangs, glowing yellow eyes, and long wolf-like bodies. They circled him easily on their four legs, just out of range of the long, gleaming silver knife in his grasp. Back to back with Tarnor, Scully was balancing from shoed foot to bared foot, her clothes in rags, bright hair falling around her face in knotted tangles. Her blue eyes blazed defiantly out of her smudged face. She was holding a large broken tree limb in one hand and her spray-can of mace in the other. Facing her were two more of the creatures, one growling menacingly, the other whining as it pawed at its eyes. In that same instant that Mulder broke into the clearing, the two 'wolves' facing Tarnor attacked. His knife flashed in the dim light, accurately hitting one wolf dead in the eye. It yelped and fell, its weight tearing the knife hilt out of Tarnor's hand even as the other animal bit into his arm, lifing the small gargoyle up of the ground with a mighty twist of its large head and tossing it back to the ground. Tarnor's agonized scream as the bone of his forearm cracked broke Scully's concentration. As she reflexively turned her head to see what was happening behind her, the remaining unwounded beast struck out at her, knocking her to the ground with its front claws. Growling its triumph, it leapt over her, covering her body with its own. "No!" Mulder screamed, instinctively pulling out his gun and firing. The gun clicked repeatedly, but did not fire. "Damn it!" he cried, throwing the useless metal object to the ground and launching himself at the 'wolf' as its teeth dug through her clothes into the soft skin of her shoulder, its poisoned saliva burning the skin of her neck. Mulder came down on top of the beast, tightening his arms around its neck, pressing his fingers into the hollow of its throat with all of his panicked strength. It responded by shaking itself, pulling back just enough to turn around and glare at its attacker. Enraged hazel eyes clashed with maddened yellow orbs, then the beast abandoned the woman pinned beneath it and rolled over onto man still clenched to its back. Then it shook itself free of him, somersaulting over onto its powerful hind legs, then pushing upwards to stand over him. The other two surviving 'wolves' swiftly joined it to form a circle around Mulder, pressing in on him with hunger in their glowing eyes. Mulder felt a sudden strange weakness over come in, much the same feeling he'd had after the psychic communications with Tarnor and Reinald back in the lab. A small detached part of his mind couldn't help thinking how far away that all seemed right now. "No, Mulder!!!!" Scully's voice barely penetrated the haze fogging his mind. It would be so easy to sleep now. So easy to just close his eyes... "MULDER!!!!!" The insistent sound of her voice kept breaking the spell. "Scully?" He trembled in response to her demand, forcing his eyes to open. He was confronted by a pair of snarling beast-mouths full of huge pointed teeth and jagged fangs. The moisture from their mouths made his skin itch and burn. Backing slightly away, he again heard Scully crying his name over and over. Suddenly it was as though he could feel her pain and her fear. He could see the way he appeared to her eyes, feel the pain lancing through his/her shoulder, hear the beating of her heart and the choking sob of her breath. "No!" He wasn't even sure which of them had said it, but it didn't matter. He was abruptly angry. Calmly, icily, furious. The rage swept through his mind and body, pushing out all the fear and pain and uncertainty before it. The torpor was replaced by a flood of energy which raced down every nerve of his body, firing synapse after synapse, like an electric charge through a power line. Each sinew of his body trembled as it fed the current, pressure building in his veins until they felt like they would burst. The power increased, building within him until he felt like he was about to burst into flames, his body shaking with the need for release. Blue fire lanced across his skin, igniting the night in a firestorm of blinding blue light. The beasts let out horrific wails of terror, their attempts to flee failing as they went up in blazes of blue flame, burning into cinders in no more than a blink of an eye. Lightning bolts flashed from the sky, striking the ground in a pattern of electrical discharge, mixing clear white light with the deep blue fire that danced and twisted, twining around each thunderbolt as it struck from the sky. Huge black clouds occluded the moons, creating a deep blue fog that hovered and spread across the forest. Finally, a column of blue flame followed back up the path of a lightning strike, hitting the center of the cloud with a deafening bang. The ground shook slightly, then the heavens burst, sending a flood of water crashing down on top of three small forms laying still and trembling on the forest floor. ------------------------ =============================================== Chapter Two - Part Two Pain lanced through Reinald's head as he slowly came to awareness. His next sensation was that of cold hard stone pressed against his nose and mouth. Groaning slightly, he lifted his head, only to feel a violent rush of nausea overwhelm him. Closing his eyes, he only barely held it down, whispering the chant of a basic restoration spell. The magic response was sluggish, trickling through his veins in slow drops. But finally the roiling fever in his belly receded, as did the pounding behind his temples. He succeeded in pulling himself to a sitting position, running long fingers through his shock of white hair. His ornate, brightly colored robe was crumpled and dusty, stained with ash and splotches of ink. The room was quiet and dark, the chalked diagrams on the floor smudged and broken. How long had he been unconscious? Reinald's head jerked upright, his eyes coming to sharp focus as the memories returned: Tarnor lost through the vortex, communication with a foreign intellect, the struggle to re- open the vortex out of phase, the overwhelming backlash of energies through the link, followed by a deep black nothingness. Had the attempt succeeded? Had Tarnor and the foreigners made it through? Reinald needed answers, but he was hardly in shape to get up and walk, much less utilize his overextended magic. Resting his head in his hands, he sent up a silent prayer to the Gods to protect both his friend and the strangers until he could recover enough of his strength to help them. Struggling to his feet, Reinald fought another wave of nausea, stumbling over to the old, red-satin chair in the corner. Sinking into its rich padded comfort, he sighed, then reached for the cold pot of tea resting on a carved wooden table. Pouring the cold liquid into a small silver cup, he lifted it to his lips and forced it down, grimacing at the taste. Normally, he could have warmed it with a thought, now it was difficult to even bring it to his lips. But the spell-enhanced tea went to work almost immediately, giving him a warm rush of energy. He quickly downed the cupful, then filled and drained it two more times. Finally, he felt some of his strength beginning to return. He could pull upon the power node resting deep in the caverns below the castle, but he had already put enough of a strain on it in the previous months, and felt that it would be better for him to handle this under his own power if at all possible. Feeling his muscles ache after the many hours spent sleeping on the cold stone floor, Reinald got to his feet and weeded his way through the clutter to a high, blue velvet-covered pedestal. Placing both hands along the edges, he leaned over it for a few minutes, eyes closed, body swaying slightly as he concentrated. Swiftly removing the cloth, the prematurely white- haired magician stared down into the Oracle Cloud, using all of his weakened power to focus on the missing Tarnor. Where was his old friend? The soft white light in the large, perfectly spherical glass-like orb flashed, then faded. Slowly an image took shape. A small moonlit clearing in the great woods, into which burst a small gray figure brandishing a large silver knife. Stumbling after it came the slightly larger form of a human woman, her odd- looking clothes ripped and dirty, her face filled with anguish and uncertainty. As she turned to look behind her, four large shapes dove out of the trees in front of them. Reinald watched in horror as the battle commenced, gargoyle and woman fighting a losing battle against the four dark beasts. Reinald tensed himself, knuckles whitening as his hands gripped the sides of the orb violently, trying to reach out with his remaining power to offer whatever help he could. Before he could even begin a man burst through out of the thickets and dived in on top of the animal assaulting the woman. As it turned to engage this new adversary, the man's aura suddenly blazed up in a blinding blue flash of color. Reinald gasped in shock, his eyes widening at such a display of unshielded power. The soul-eaters immediately abandoned Tarnor and the woman, circling in on the unfamiliar magician. In response to their attention, his aura began to fade, energy leeching into the dark hollow centers of the beasts as they hungrily devoured the mage-energy. "No!" Reinald shouted, his voice ringing against the vaulted ceiling of his work-room. Again he tried to reach out with aid, but his strength was failing. He cried out in frustration, forced to stand by and watch as a much-needed possible ally was slowly destroyed. But abruptly the tide turned. Reinald felt his jaw drop as the woman's greenish-brown aura reached out to the blinking blue aura of the weakening mage, steadying its color and enriching its tone. A mix of blue and green and brown swirled for a moment, then broke in bright blue flash that nearly blinded Reinald's magic-sensitive eyes. Shielding his face with his arm, Reinald sensed more than saw the growing Mage-storm, feeling every nerve in his body tingle in response to the intensity of the power being focused and released several long miles away. Bright blue light illuminated the entire chamber in a violent flash, then was gone. Reinald slowly lowered his protective arm and blinked as his eyes slowly readjusted to the dimmed light. When he could see clearly, he peered back down into the darkened Oracle Cloud, amazed to see three figures stirring on the water-lashed ground, large scorched area marking the spots where the soul-eaters had been consumed. For now, they had survived, though Reinald knew there were other dangers lurking in the miles of forest between the three and the safety of Fairwood Keep. There had to be a way of getting them here faster. If Reinald had his full strength, he could have easily constructed a Gate and brought them here instantly. But now that was out of the question. He could use the castle's power node, but that would mean draining it to a dangerously low level. If only there were another way. Reinald recovered the Oracle Cloud and slowly wandered back to his favorite chair. Once seated he reached for a large, heavy book with an intricately-carved metal binding. Perhaps, there was another way. - - - - - Fox Mulder was the first to awaken. Curling over onto his side, he cradled his aching head in his right arm. Ever so slowly he opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as things slowly wavered into focus. "Scully!" he cried out, but his voice came out of chapped lips in a hoarse whisper. Pressing hands down into the thick deep soil, he struggled to his knees, then awkwardly scrambled over on all fours to his partner. She lay shivering in a fetal position, right hand wrapped tight around her bloody left shoulder. Her face was half-hidden by a knot of matted dark-red hair, her lips moving, but soundless, her breath coming in choking gasps. Mulder kneeled over her, brushing the hair out of her face with a gentle sweep of his hand. "Mulder," she gasped, rolling over to face him. "I'm okay, I think." She shuddered as she came to a sitting position, leaning gratefully against the warmth of his body. She pulled away the blackened edges of blue and white cloth from her wounds, grimacing in pain. Deftly, she examined the wounds, sighing with relief as she realized the beast's teeth had not done more than lacerate her skin, causing it to bleed profusely. Her biggest problem seemed to be a total lack of anything to bind the wound with. But Mulder was ahead of her, already stripping of his jacket. "Here, do what you can with this, I'm going to check on Tarnor." She nodded, taking the already ripped jacket from him with a smile of thanks. He squeezed her undamaged shoulder with his right hand briefly, glancing over at Tarnor who was already sitting up, clutching at his left arm which hung from the elbow at an impossible angle. His skin had turned from a lustrous gray to a dusty black and his ears lay flat and limp against his head. Mulder closed his eyes in sympathy, then opened them again, the irises turning as black as the dark-widened pupils. Brushing with annoyance at the bangs glued to his forehead with the back of his forearm, he stood up and went over to Tarnor, kneeling down beside him. Mulder gave the wounded gargoyle as reassuring a smile as he could, then he pulled the ragged already undone tie off his neck and peered around him, searching for a usable piece of wood. Finally he spotted a broken tree limb not far from his reach. Grabbing it, he turned back to Tarnor, only to be faced again with the communication problem. However, Tarnor seemed to understand what Mulder meant to do, and he bobbed his head, his ears perking up a couple of inches. "Okay, little one. I'll try not to hurt you too much," Mulder spoke soothingly, hoping that at least the sound of his voice would let Tarnor know he didn't want to hurt him. Tarnor screwed his face up in a tight grimace, slowly extending the broken arm towards Mulder who rested the tie and branch on his knees and carefully reached out to touch Tarnor's arm. Working as quickly, yet gently as he could, he examined the wounds, relieved to find that though the gargoyle was bleeding, the teeth marks did not appear to be deep. The worst of the injury was the obviously broken bone, and once that was splinted, Tarnor ought to be all right for a while. He met Tarnor's eyes, then looked down at the arm, then back up into the gargoyle's tiny grey eyes. Tarnor's eyes blinked, then met Mulder's square arm, somehow managing to indicate understanding. "Well, better get it over with," Mulder said, even though he knew Tarnor wouldn't understand. He held the creature's arm as gently as he could, to avoid moving the splintered bone and causing Tarnor even more agony, and picked up the tree limb. Holding it against Tarnor's arm, with one hand, he firmly looped the thin strip of material that had once been a silk tie around it, splinting the arm. "Not bad, Mulder, for an amateur." Scully had finished binding her shoulder with strips of cloth torn from his ruined jacket. She sat down behind him and eyed Tarnor anxiously. "Though I suppose I'm as much an amateur in 'gargoyle' medicine as you are." Mulder couldn't help smiling at the mix of frustration and curiosity in her voice. At least it seemed she was finally accepting the reality of their situation, even though it was a reality he was beginning to dislike intensely. Mulder sat back on his heels and looked anxiously around him. The rain had finally stopped, thank goodness, but they were still lost in the middle of the deep forest, probably miles form any source of help, even if he'd had any idea of which direction to go. No chance that his cellular phone would work, Mulder thought grimly, eyeing the surrounding trees with distrust. There had actually been a time when he had liked forests, but right now he'd had more than enough of them for several lifetimes. Scully gave a choking gasp, her body convulsing. "Scully!" he cried, reaching out to pull her into his embrace. "What's wrong?" "I...I don't know," she replied through gritted teeth. "I feel like my shoulder is burning from the inside." Mulder kept one hand around her waist as he probed at her shoulder with the other. A tight knot formed in his belly as he suddenly noticed the charring of both the cloth and the skin around the wounds. His hand crept up to his own neck, as a burning itch made itself known in spots along his throat and chin. Poison! The beasts' saliva must contain some kind of toxin. Since he was not feeling more than some surface discomfort, it must be necessary for the the poison to enter the bloodstream as it had in both Scully and Tarnor. Scully met his eyes, obviously coming to the same conclusion as he had. The fear and worry in her deep blue eyes made him feel sick. They didn't know for sure that the toxin was deadly, but it was a pretty safe bet, especially since they were probably miles away from any source of medical assistance. Mulder felt an intense but familiar sense of guilt wash over him. Why was he always the one who survived, while everyone he cared about was hurt or lost. He should be the one poisoned, not Scully, or even Tarnor. Mulder had come to like the funny little creature in the short time he'd known him. They'd barely had the chance to begin to communicate. It just wasn't fair! Mulder sat in a dejected silence for a several long moments, wallowing in a pit of anguish, guilt and despair. Scully sat equally still, watching him, her mind churning, even as she felt herself begin to weaken as the poison spread. The odd thing was that she was more worried about him than she was about herself. He had already lost so much, losing her could destroy him. And that was if his own overblown guilt didn't do the job first. 'Sitting here and feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to do you - or us - any good," she chided. "So get up off your sorry butt and do something!" 'Just what am I supposed to do?' he asked, the sound of their voices unnaturally loud among the muted rustles of the leaves and the pitter-patter of water dripping off the trees. 'Get help, you idiot!' she replied, her voice breaking off into a series of painful gasps, as another set of convulsions rocked her body. "Scully!" he cried, reaching out to take her back into his arms, stoking her head until the shaking subsided. He watched her, cradling her, as she slowly slipped into an uneven sleep. 'I have to get help. I will get help,' he whispered, wishing he had even the slightest idea how. But the power of his brilliant intellect was already focusing in on the problem at hand. Consider the situation, he told himself: you're lost, you have two seriously injured people, there appears to be no one around for miles, you have no physical means of communication over any distance, no transportation. If only... Of course! Mulder's head jerked upright, his eyes glittering with reflected moonlight. Maybe, just maybe he could reach the other person he'd talked with through Tarnor back in the lab. It would be difficult without Tarnor, Mulder didn't even know how to start, but if they'd been able to communicate through the vortex, it ought to be easier when they were both in the same world. Though, that was assuming they were in the same world. But he didn't have any better ideas, so nothing was lost by trying this one. Mulder looked around him for a moment, then sighed and let go of Scully. He stretched himself out on the ground, his hands resting by his sides, then closed his eyes, and took a series of deep breaths. After a few moments of attempting to calm down, he gave up on the hopeless effort and simply tried to focus on calling out to that other mind. His photographic memory clicked into gear, supply a detailed record of the sound and feel of that voice. A series of hazy images flashed against the back of his eyelids: a shock of white hair, chalk drawings on a gray-stone floor, a deep, musical voice, a large glowing round orb. "Please answer me, we need help. If anyone is there, we need help. Help me please, help me, help..." - - - - - Reinald's head snapped up as the heavy book slid out of his fingers and fell onto his feet with a bang. His head filled with the pleading cry for assistance that echoed loudly in his mind, Reinald didn't even notice the pain. Impatiently kicking the huge tome aside, he focused completely on that voice, grabbing hold of it mentally, as he fought his way over to the Oracle Cloud, ignoring the crash of several bottles he accidentally knocked off of a nearby table. Pulling off the velvet covering, he placed his hands on either side of the glowing orb and threw his thoughts back down that link, feeling the other mind recoil in surprise at the unexpected contact. "I'm here!" he replied. "I can hear you." - - - - - Mulder's eyes flew open as a strong, clear voice spoke in his head, responding to his call for help. This wasn't like the faint link he'd had before, this was like having a microphone inserted into his skull. He could FEEL the other mind touching his, a sensation he couldn't even begin to describe, even to himself. He was assaulted by an intensity of sensations, each piling on top of the last, until he wasn't sure which of him/them was laying prone on the forest floor and which was standing with his hands tightly gripping a smooth clear ball. "Take it easy, it's okay," the voice in his mind soothed, the sound toning down in volume. "Tell me your situation," it continued, gently persuasive. "We're lost in the woods somewhere, I have no idea where. We were attacked by these wolf-like creatures." A picture of the beast with its slavering, fanged mouth and brutal eyes swam in front of his eyes, and with it came a sudden sense of recognition and a name, 'soul-eater.' Mulder shook his head briefly, then forced himself to continue, just barely beginning to get hold of this silent, but vivid form of communication. "The 'soul-eaters' attacked my friends, breaking Tarnor's arm and gouging Scully's shoulder. The wounds aren't too bad, but I think they've been poisoned." Reinald shook with anger and grief as those images flooded his mind. But Mulder was still mind-speaking in a panicked rush of words and images. "Those things surrounded me. I thought I was dying, but Scully kept calling me, so I tried to get away" Even his mindvoice trembled. "...I don't know exactly what happened next, but it felt like I was burning up inside. There was this flash of blue light, then I must have fainted. When I woke up the beasts were gone. But Scully and Tarnor are burning up. I don't know if there is a way to counteract the poison. They need a doctor immediately." The concept of a 'doctor' was accompanied by a serious of almost frightening alien images. Reinald tried to grasp hold of the basics, and sighed with relief as he finally understood. Of course, he should have realized by context, a 'doctor' was a kind of healer. "Yes, I understand," he mindspoke back along the wavering link. "The 'soul-eaters' poison can be treated by any good healer, if it is gotten to before it reaches the brain. Our biggest problem is getting to you in time." "How long have we got?" Mulder asked, panic warring with hope. "Do you have any idea how much distance between us?" This thought was colored by a sense of amazement that they were talking at all. That emotion caused Reinald his own quick moment of surprise, but it was put aside for later. Reinald considered the question, his mind ranging along the link. "A couple of hours at the most, maybe less for Tarnor, because he's smaller. Unfortunately, you are about three days walk from here; one, maybe one and a half days by horse," he replied. His voice took on a deep note of regret as he added, "I wish we could set up a Gate." "Gate?" Mulder questioned, now the one struggling with an unfamiliar concept. "A magic portal between two locations. I know how to build one, but it usually takes two magicians, and a great deal of energy. I used up most of mine opening the vortex out of its natural phase, and I don't know what your energy level is. Destroying the soul-eaters must have drained you to some extent." Mulder frowned in concentration, trying to grasp the images that accompanied the words. Luckily he had an extremely vivid imagination, it leaped into the gaps, building bridges that might not be real, but would hold for the moment. "If we had a Gate, how long would it take us to get from here to there?" "No time at all - it would be instantaneous," Reinald answered, his face settling into mirror-image of Mulder's frown, deep-etched grooves wrinkling the skin around his eyes. He had had too much to frown about in the past year. Mulder nodded. "Okay, then show me how to make this Gate thing." "It's not that easy," Reinald protested. "It takes years to learn just the basic theory." "We don't have time for that, now," Mulder insisted with calm determination. If this was what it took to save Scully, then he was going to do it. No matter what it did to him. "Just show me how it's done." Reinald thought furiously for a moment, his mind going in circles. The other mage's grim certainty pricked at the edge of his mind like a sharp sword's edge. Fully trained magicians had died in the backlash of badly constructed gates, but on the other hand, all three were certainly dead if they didn't try. The long- distance transportation spell he'd been searching for might be strong enough to bring through the small gargoyle, but definitely not the two humans. And there was no certainty that it could bring anyone through alive. He took a deep breath and gritted his jaw. He could not stand by and let them die. There was no other option, he decided, sending a wave of acceptance down the link. "This is not going to be easy. It will take perfect concentration, and you must NOT let go of your end. Do not let anything interfere, or we're both dead." Mulder swallowed nervously, doubt beginning to curl its way into the pit of his stomach. One quick glance at Scully's pale face tightened his resolve, and he sent the mental equivalent of a nod down the link. "I understand." "All right," Reinald said, adjusting his position above the globe. He closed his eyes and began to send a flood of images down the link, letting his last memory of building a Gate wave over them both. Mulder pushed up into a standing position, his hazel eyes focused inward as he absorbed every detail, using his eidetic memory to lock them into place. Finally the deluge slowed to a crawl, then sputtered to a stop. "Do you understand?" Reinald's mindvoice was tinged with mixture of worry and determination "I...I think so," Mulder answered, not in the least certain that he understood anything at all. Reinald paused for a brief moment, to find his center and take another deep breath. "I'll start, be ready." "I'll be ready." Mulder mindspoke firmly. For Scully, he thought grimly. He would make this work for Scully. - - - - - Even braced as he was for it, the sudden blast of power was overwhelming. Mulder sank to the ground under the weight of it, grappling for control. White and blue flames swirled around his body, running up and down the lengths of his arms and legs, sparks flying from his finger tips, as he fought to wrap his mind around the wayward energy. It was too much, he thought with panic, he was going to fail, and Scully would die because of his failure. Grief and anger washed over him, propelling him to reach just a little deeper into mental reserves he had never known he possessed. Straining until the blue of his veins stood out in sharp relief under his pale skin, until his brain felt like it would burst out of his skull, Mulder finally was able to seize onto the power. It was like a door opening in his mind, suddenly he just knew how to manipulate the power. Under his wavering, but increasingly determined control, the power surged and tightened, forming into a blazing column of light surrounding his quaking body. Relief bringing the salty sting of tears to his eyes, he pulled himself to his feet, his mind holding onto the stream of magical energy like a drowning man hanging onto a floating tree limb. Once on his feet, he simply held it for a while, sensing the wildness of the magic begin to calm into an steady, even flow of bright light. He held out his hands and watched the blue and white flames shimmer up and down his arms, amazed that he felt nothing more than an intense warm glow, much like the sun on a hot summer day. Hysterical laughter bubbled up out of him, as he couldn't help wondering what Skinner would say if he could see this. But time was short. In shimmer of the magic, he could see Scully's skin turning a splotchy, angry red. Choking off his laughter, Mulder took a deep breath and reviewed Reinald's instructions. He needed to 'ground' it. That idea was accompanied by an image of the magic light burrowing into the earth. Okay, he thought, I ought to be able to do that. Closing his eyes, he tightened his mental hold on the power and relived that image. Down, down, into the earth he pushed the light, pressing with all his strength. The magic shivered and circled around him, resisting the push, but finally acceding to his will. Streams of blue fire merged into the soil, sending up sparks as it hit the ground, then weaved its way downward, disappearing below the surface. Mulder pushed for what seemed an eternity, until he gasped for breath in a whistling rush, his lungs fighting for the air he had unknowingly been denying them. The magic column shivered, and nearly flew backwards, but as Mulder drew sweet air into his lungs, he gave it one final mental push and it held. He took a couple more breaths, then checked it again. To his surprise it was still and quiet, anchored deep in the ground. He gave it one more downward twist, then relaxed, sliding down into the cool, wet forest floor in near- exhaustion. Long moments slid by as he fought to remain conscious. Bending his head down between his knees, he heaved violently, his empty stomach convulsing. A few drops of stomach acid dripped from his mouth, and he spat them away in disgust. At this point, the pain was almost a comfort because it kept him awake. There was too much left to do. He hadn't come this far to fail now. Battling against a wave of dizziness, he somehow got back to his feet. He paused there for a moment, then pulling on the last vestiges of his strength, buoyed only by an intense stubborn determination, he again reached out for the power. Seizing a current, he tossed it a few feet across the current, his mind flowing with it as it hit the ground. Again, he pushed it downwards, surprised to find the anchoring to be easier this time. Just one more push and a wrenching twist, and it was done. Mulder stepped back and studied the flaming arch with widened eyes. Voracious gusts of wind, disturbed by the presence of the mage-energy, whipped at his body, tore at his dark hair and ragged clothes, sent sparks of light flying from the shimmering half-circle. But again, as bone-achingly tired as he was, there was yet more to do. Stepping into the center of the arch, Mulder reached for the now-familiar mindlink, gasping in relief as he felt approval and reassurance flow into his nearly- drained mind. "Good, good," Reinald felt a silly grin growing on his face. He had had some chilling moments as he could only watch and pray that the young, untrained talent could keep his control. But somehow the young mage had, and there was only one last step to take. "Send it to me!" he commanded, bracing his feet on the floor as he felt Mulder's mind begin to focus in response. A blast of white fire hit him, and Reinald staggered under its weight for a brief moment, before he bent it to his will. Straining, his still-weakened body screaming in protest, he bent the stream of power, twining into the original blue flame that he had created earlier, arching the magical braid into a perfect semi- circle. Then with a practiced mental twist, he grounded it into the stone floor, creating a mirror image to the arch facing Mulder in the far distant woods. - - - - - Mulder gave in to the tears as he watched the center of the arch begin to cloud up. The air itself seemed to bend and ripple, finally forming into a a shimmering curtain through which he could see a large, cluttered room with huge stained glass windows, vaulted ceilings, and walls lined with books. Until this very moment, a small part of him had not believed this was possible, but there it was right in front of his blinking, streaming eyes. He rubbed at his eyes with a dirt-encrusted hand, spreading streaks of mud across his cheeks, even as a smile broke its way onto his face. Through the 'curtain' he could see a tall, middle-aged man with a bright shock of white hair, and weary, heavily-lined face staring at him with an expression of amazed relief. They stared at each other for a moment, then the white- haired man moved quickly through the portal and grabbed onto Mulder as his legs finally gave way. "Easy, easy," Reinald said gently, putting his arm under Mulder's to hold him up. "You did even better than I'd hoped. Let's get you into the castle." "No, no," Mulder protested weakly. He turned to look behind him at the two unconscious forms on the ground. "Scully...and Tarnor. Help them. Must help them." his voice was barely audible. "I will," Reinald reassured him, half-dragging him towards the shining Gate. "You go through first, then I'll get the others." "No," Mulder pulled himself free of the other's grasp and stumbled, wavering like a drunk, towards Scully's prone body. Obviously, during his precoccupation with the Gate she had remained unconsciousness. Perhaps that was for the best he thought, wearily, falling to his knees beside her. He reached out to take her into his arms, relieved to feel her stir and wiggle against him. Then, with no conscious comprehension of anything except the need to bring her to safety, he managed to draw her limp, unresisting body over his shoulder and stagger to his feet. Reinald ran to help him, but Mulder nodded him away, angling his head towards Tarnor, not wanting to waste a single breath on speech. Reinald studied him for a brief moment, but noting the glitter of determination in those burning diamond eyes, accepted Mulder's decision and went to pick up Tarnor. Step by weary step, both men carried their precious burdens through the Gate. End Chapter 2 =============================================== Chapter 3 - Part One The young brown-haired human, clothed in a mage- apprentice's blue and grey, stood protectively in front of the thick oak doors. "You can't go in there!" he insisted, yet again. "Something's gone wrong. What if the Dark Lords have attacked, or what if Reinald has let some dangerous creature in, or opened a Gate to The Goddess knows where. We have to protect the Prince..." The small round man continued to babble, his protruding belly jiggling with every expansive motion of his bejeweled hands. Behind him the Royal Guard Captain snorted. It wasn't like Drellor was going to lead the charge. It was a standing castle joke that the Prince's uncle couldn't even lace his own boots without help. He'd make a lot of noise and make sure he was nearby to claim any glory, but he'd never put one fat finger in jeopardy. Right now Drellor was probably dreaming about replacing Reinald as Regent. Captain Jourdain frowned deeply. Unfortunately, the scheming fool might be right this time. Much as Jourdain respected the Regent/Mage, it was beginning to appear that Reinald had finally gotten in over his head. First he had shut himself in his workroom, barring the door, followed by a serious of loud explosions and a horrendous thunderstorm. Then there had been silence for most of the day, with no sight or sound from Reinald. And now all evidence pointed to the creation of a Gate here. In the castle itself, against all the rules. And a very unsteady Gate from the amount of backlash every magic-sensitive person in the area was feeling. Jourdain did not like the situation at all. Finally fed up with Drellor's ridiculous posturing, the big, muscled Captain pushed the little man aside and strode up to look down at Reinald's newest apprentice. "Look here, Grejor. I know Reinald told you not to let anyone in, and normally you couldn't make me disturb a working magician for all the gold in the Realm. But something is wrong here, and I have to find out what before it becomes a serious threat to the Prince. You are going to have to let us in." Before Grejor could respond, there was a loud creaking noise and the door slowly began to swing inwards. Drellor let out a squeak of alarm and scurried back behind two of the armed guards. Grejor moved over beside the Captain, only the darting of his eyes and the sweat beading up on his lower lip betraying his uncertainty and fear. The wave of relief was nearly audible as Reinald peeked his white-haired head out the door. Barely noticing the soldiers, his eyes fastened on the slender brown form of his apprentice. "There you are Grejor. Good. We've got some company and they need medical assistance immediately. Better go get Healer Corvay." Grejor and Jourdain just gaped at Reinald. His hair stood on end and his normally immaculate robe was covered in filth. Reinald ignored the open-mouthed stares, chiding Grejor briskly. "Move along there young fellow. We need the Healer here now!" His voice rose on the last word, his eyes flashing in emphasis. Trained to follow his master's orders, Grejor jerked in response, blurting "Yes, Mage," as he fled down the hall. "Now look here, Reinald," Jourdain said to the magician's back as he let go of the door and hurried back into the room. Jourdain caught the door before it shut fully in his face and pushed his way past it. Half-way across the threshold, he stopped short in his tracks, a look of utter amazement filling his blue eyes. The bright shimmering arch of a Gate filled the center of the room, opening into a small forest glade. Just this side of the Gate were three people, the small familiar figure of a gray gargoyle and two completely unfamiliar humans, dressed in the remnants of odd-looking garments. Both the gargoyle and one of the humans, a woman, were laying on the floor shivering with fever, their eyes glazed and skins flushed red. Leaning over the woman was a tall, slender man with disheveled dark hair and eyes of a color Jourdain couldn't quite identify. But what disturbed Jourdain the most was the sense of raw, uncontrolled power that surrounded him. "Ahhh, Captain, Good. I didn't notice you were there." Reinald finally looked up and saw the bulky soldier. "Better give me a hand here. You do know some basic healing spells don't you?" "I'm a soldier, Reinald, not a healer. I can't do more that a simple stasis spell." Jourdain shut the door behind with a deliberate shove, noting with some pleasure that it slammed right into Drellor's big nose. "The two are not necessarily separate, Captain. But for now that will do. You take Tarnor and I'll see to Scully." Reinald hurried over to the two humans and began the simple chant. "That's only a prophecy, Reinald!" Jourdain protested, but another quick glance at the wounded gargoyle convinced him not to waste time. He went to kneel by Tarnor's side and joined Reinald in the chant, their two voices singing in syncopated round, punctuated by annoying knocks on the door. The spells took hold as a soft brown shimmer of light surrounded both Scully and Tarnor. Mulder watched the procedure anxiously, then as Reinald pulled away, he reached up to grab onto Reinald. "What happened? What did you do to her?" Jourdain listened in surprise as the strange man spoke rapidly in an utterly foreign language, heavy with hard consonants. To his further amazement, Reinald answered back fluently in the same language. "We put them into stasis until the Healer can get here. That will at least keep them from deteriorating further." "Stasis? You mean something like cryogenic freezing?" Mulder asked, trying to grasp the concepts without the aid of the psychic link. Reinald frowned. His language spell gave him basic fluency in their odd language, but those words didn't quite translate well. Something to do with intense cold, he shook his head. "I'm sorry..." Further explanations were interrupted by the near-breathless arrival of Grejor with the brown-clad form of the Healer in tow, Drellor following closely behind. Jourdain pushed past the Healer, grabbing Drellor by the front of his robe before the little fat man could open his mouth. Without a word, Jourdain shoved the gaudily-clad noble out the door and shut it in his face, knowing he might have to pay for the act later, but not minding in the least. Whatever revenge Drellor tried to exact would be a small price to pay for not having to listen to the mindless fool now. "What's this about, Reinald?" Healer Corvay asked as he crossed the room, the annoyed look dropping from his face as soon as he saw the two figures in stasis on the floor. "By the Gods!" he swore, shoving Grejor aside to rush to his new patients. "What happened?" "Soul-eaters." Reinald said matter-of-factly. Even the seasoned warrior, Jourdain, shuddered at that thought. Those beasts were enough to frighten anyone. "How did they get away?" Corvay asked as he banished the stasis spells and reached out to touch Tarnor and Scully, writhing as their pain seeped into his body. "Mulder blasted them, but not before they bit Tarnor and Scully." Reinald responded. Mulder had been following the incomprehensible exchange closely, and he glanced up at the tall Mage in response to the sound of his name. "Just explaining what happened," Reinald soothed. "Corvay is an excellent Healer. If anyone can help them, he can." Mulder nodded, having no choice but to accept what Reinald said at face value. Suddenly the lost agent felt an overwhelming fondness for modern hospitals, even though he normally avoided them whenever possible. Right now he'd give his right arm for one. Corvay looked startled at the rapid exchange on the unfamiliar language, but he quickly focused back on his two patients. Closing his eyes, he stabilized their sleeping patterns, then reached with his mind, Tarnor first and then the woman, to find the nerves leading to their damaged extremities and closed them off to dull the pain. Then, he reached into Tarnor's bloodstream and began the slow process of targeting the poison for destruction, encouraging the gargoyle's own immune defenses to recognize the toxin as a foreign entity to be destroyed. Satisfied it was beginning to work, he then did the same for Scully, his mind pushing at the tiny living cells circulating in her blood, encouraging natural antibody production to speed up, helping more of the necessary cells to proliferate and migrate to the contaminated areas. As Corvay worked, lost in the minutiae of his patients bodies, Jourdain caught Reinald's attention with a series of angry questions. "What do you mean, 'Mulder' blasted them? And why did you build a Gate here? You know they're not allowed within the castle! What are you up to, Reinald?" "I didn't have any choice," the magician responded, giving the big soldier an annoyed glare. Jourdain took it calmly, giving as good as he got. Reinald sighed and perched himself on the edge of a table, and began to explain. "Tarnor was scouting for me in the woods, when he ran into a pack of Hunters and Destroyers. Left with no other choice, I told him to chance the vortex." "You what?!" Jourdain exclaimed. "He couldn't let them catch him, he knows too much. Anyway, he got through the portal just fine." "Through to where?" Jourdain questioned with slightly narrowed eyes. "To an alternative Realm, and not The Dark Place, thank the Gods. I still don't know much about the place he went to, the images I got were very confusing. But once the Dark Forces had cleared the area, I was able to reopen the Vortex to pull Tarnor back through..." Reinald paused, and glanced at Mulder, who instantly sensed the glance and looked up from Scully to stare at both men. Jourdain felt the glance, turned to look at Mulder, then back to Reinald. "And them...?" he prodded, none-too-gently. "Tarnor found them," Reinald responded. "The woman has the aura of both a healer and a soldier, mixed brown and green. The man is a magician of extraordinary strength. He may be stronger than I am." "The prophecy!" Jourdain drew a quick breath, and turned to stare at Mulder who glared back. "I think so," Reinald sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Unfortunately, opening the Vortex took all of my strength. I fell asleep for what must have been several hours. By the time I woke up and recovered enough strength to even look for them, they were under attack. Luckily, the Mage was able to destroy the soul-eaters before they drained him, but not quickly enough to stop the others from being hurt. He called for help, and together we were able to build the Gate to bring them here." Jourdain broke his staring contest with Mulder and angled his head back to Reinald. "I don't understand why soul- eaters would attack an adult mage, they usually go after unshielded newborns. And how could he fail to know they were coming and shield himself." Reinald shook his head. "I don't understand it all myself, but I'm afraid Mulder IS like a newborn Mage. He has absolutely no shield and no control." "What?" Jourdain's skin bleached white. "No shield....no control...maybe stronger than YOU! How could that be? How could he survive? How could anyone around him survive?" "I don't know," Reinald replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Their world is so foreign to ours, I don't have enough information on it to answer that." "By the Gods!" Jourdain swore. "Can you keep him contained?" "I think so. He's pure, Jourdain. Of that I'm sure. His aura is clear and untainted." Jourdain shook his head, while he didn't doubt Reinald's assertions, he still was terribly frightened. Trained adult Mages were enough to make most people nervous, untrained children could frighten whole villages until they were taken in hand by an older mage. To have one wandering around with absolutely no training but with a full adult's power, especially one potentially more gifted than the Royal Magician, was a nightmare. The entire court, Drellor in particular, was going to go into seizures when they found out. A sudden thought occurred to him, and it brought the edge of a grim smile to his lips. There was no reason why the court had to find out - at least not yet. No one outside of this room knew, and it had better stay that way. "Can you teach him?" he asked. "Yes, of course I can. It will be difficult, but he managed to help build the Gate on incredibly short notice. He's smart and extremely determined. He'll learn." "He'll have to. But we'll need to keep it quiet. I'll report that you're exchanging spells or something with a foreign magician who is visiting with his...unh..." "Wife." Reinald interrupted. Jourdain looked at him in shock. Mages never married, they rarely even formed close friendships. Reinald smiled. "They ARE foreign, remember. As surprising as it seems, I think they may even be life-bonded." "What!" Jourdain felt like the room was spinning. He'd had one shock to many in too short a period of time. His jaw felt like it was permanently hanging down. But he was a battle- experienced warrior, and he hadn't survived three wars - well, border-skirmishes - to fall apart now. Okay, so he was faced with a living breathing prophecy come true: a totally untrained adult alien mage of extraordinary power, and one with a bond-mate to boot. Well, why not? He grimaced and focused sharp blue eyes on both Reinald and the gaping Grejor. "Nothing of what you've told me leaves this room. They are simply visitors from some far- off land, with slightly odd customs, come to trade spells with you. Once you've got him under some control, we can decide how much more to let out. But nothing more for now. Is that understood?" Grejor just gave a barely perceptible nod. Reinald rubbed at his chin for a moment, considering, then agreed. "All right. But we have to tell the Prince the truth, and Scully will need weapons training. She should be a natural fighter, given her aura. Is there someone you can trust to teach her?" Jourdain thought for a moment, eyeing the still- unconscious woman on the floor with doubtful eyes. Then he nodded slowly. "Aldara can teach her. She's one of the best fighters I've ever seen, and she's about the same size." "Good!" Reinald replied. "Mulder and I can start tomorrow." Mulder again responded to the sound of his name, his eyes darkening with his increasing irritation at not being able to understand the conversation, except for his intuitive recognition that they were discussing him and Scully. At this mention of his name, he stood up and spoke bluntly to Reinald. "What's going on?" "I was just telling Jourdain," Reinald gestured towards the Captain, "what has happened. And we're discussing how to handle your presence here." "You're the one who asked us to come." Mulder's voice was belligerent, his eyes snapping. Reinald saw his aura, drained as it was, flare up, and reached out to soothe the angry Mage. "Yes I was, and I will explain everything to you. I just thought it might be better to explain to you and Scully at once." "Try explaining to me now," Mulder insisted, his face tightening in pain. "Scully is hardly going to be in any condition for explanations for a while." A sudden groan from the woman in question broke into the conversation, and Mulder instantly dropped to his knees beside her. "Scully?" he questioned, reaching out to touch her. Reinald watched in amazement, as Mulder's blue aura flew ahead of his hand, mixing with the faint green/brown of hers, feeding his life energy to her. In response her aura flared and strengthened, merging with the blue flame to produce a bright rainbow where the met. "Mulder..." Scully's eyes slowly opened to see his anxious face peering down at her. She smiled softly, happy to see him there and well. "What happened?" she asked, trying to sit up, but her body was too exhausted to obey, and she slumped back down to the floor. "Hey, take it easy," Mulder warned, though his countenance lightened with his joy at seeing her improve. He didn't know what the Healer had done, but it certainly seemed to have worked. "You were hurt, remember?" "Where are we?" she questioned, staring arund her in amazement. "I found help," he replied succinctly, not wanting to try to explain now. "I'll explain later. Right now you need to rest." She nodded, exhausted, leaning against his arms and closing her eyes. As she slipped into an easy slumber, Mulder swept the hair out of her eyes and looked from Corvay to Reinald. "Tell him thank you," he whispered. - - - - - =============================================== Chapter Three - Part Two Mulder and Scully sat back in their chairs, sipping slowly at the odd-tasting potion Corvay had insisted they drink. Scully had been particular loathe to drink anything she didn't know, but Reinald had insisted. He'd even taken a glass of it himself, and was now sitting on a small stool in front of them, drinking from his cup and watching them with some amusement. Mulder looked over at Scully, shrugged and chugged down the rest of his drink. Actually it didn't taste too badly, rather like a very fruity wine, and it caused an immediate sensation of warmth to spread out from his throat and stomach. When Scully saw that it wasn't bothering Mulder too much, she gave in and took a deep swallow. Then she smiled and took another. "This is pretty good." "It's an excellent restorative," Reinald responded. He smiled. "And it has the added benefit of actually tasting good. Most of the healer's concoctions are enough to make anyone sick just from the taste." Mulder laughed, "It looks like there are some constants in life, no matter where you are." Scully threw him a dirty look, then turned back to Reinald. "I have so many questions. How did we get here, and where is here? What were those creatures who attacked us? And what exactly is Tarnor?" Reinald smiled warmly at them both. "Okay, I'll try to start with the basics, but I can't promise to have all the answers. There's a lot I don't know." "Fair enough," Mulder replied. "How you got here? Well, through something we call "the vortex," though what it actually is, we don't know. It reappears every so often in the same part of the forest at regular intervals, and seems to be some kind of gateway between different worlds. Every so often, someone will disappear into it, or some strange creature will appear out of it. It seems to link several worlds together, including yours, mine, and the one our present problem comes from. I took a big chance sending Tarnor through, but it was his only hope." "What problem?" Scully asked. "The beasts who attacked you are only one small part of the terror that has been invading our world from that other realm. We think of it as the Dark Place, since everything that has come from it has been pure evil. Creatures have been attacking our people for close to two years, and every attempt to shut of the vortex has failed. Forcing it open to allow you and Tarnor to come back through is the biggest success I've had with it, and I'm not exactly sure I could do it again." "Wait a minute," Mulder interrupted, leaning forward in his chair. "What do you mean, you might not be able to do it again? Are you saying you may not be able to send us home?" "I..." Reinald gave them an apologetic look, "I'm just not sure. But you may be able to do it for yourself. Mulder, you've got as much magical ability as I do, maybe more." "I have no idea how to do anything, I almost made a disaster out of the Gate. How am I supposed to control the vortex?" "Wait a minute," Scully interrupted. "I don't understand. What Gate? And Mulder's no magician. I mean I don't even believe in magic, and I know Mulder can't do anything like that." Reinald shook his head, this was not going very well. He though for a moment, then tried again. "There must be some very serious differences between our two worlds. Let me tell you a little more about this one. Maybe that will help." Mulder and Scully gave him identical looks of skeptical disbelief, but they both sat back and let him continue. "You are presently in the castle of the King of Fairwood Domain. Unfortunately, the last King died leaving only his five- year old son as heir. The Prince is about 8 years old now, so as well as serving as Royal Magician, I am acting Regent until he turns 16 and comes legally of age. Besides Fairwood, there are two other Kingdoms in this part of the Realm. There are others across the waters, but except for some trading by ship, we don't communicate with them much. "Under the King, there is a collection of noble houses. Representatives of each serve on the council, as well as elected representatives of the major guilds and religions. Also, the three other races have voting seats on the council - Tarnor's people, the trolls, and the elves. The other races usually keep to themselves, and have their own leaders and homes usually separate from human settlements. All in all, we get along pretty well, we haven't had more than occasional border skirmishes in over thirty years. That doesn't mean there isn't a lot of political jockeying around here, the court is rife with it." Mulder and Scully nodded, so far they could follow this fine, and most of it had some familiarity to it. "Now, magic. Hmmm. There do appear to be major differences between our worlds in this respect. I don't quite understand it, but you, Mulder, have one of the strongest Mage auras I've ever seen. You may even be more powerful than I am, and yet you don't seem to know the slightest thing about using it or controlling it. Magically, you're like a newborn Mage, but you are an adult. How did you manage to grow up without training, or even learning to shield?" Mulder shook his head. "We don't seem to HAVE magic in our world, like you do here. A few people have reported what we call 'extrasensory perception,' in that they can sometimes hear another's thoughts or sense things occurring at a distance. A very few may be able to bend a spoon. But that's all. And I've never even demonstrated those abilities. Except maybe for strong intuition, I don't have any talent - or at least I didn't until I got here." "That's amazing!" Reinald said, his eyes twinkling with interest. "A world without magic. It's incomprehensible." "The idea that 'magic' is real is incomprehensible to us. It's just a fantasy writers spin to amuse people. It's not real." Scully broke in. "And I'm not sure I understand what you mean by 'magic.'" "You can think about magic as a kind of energy. It flows through all living things, and we think it may be tied to the basis of life itself, although that is hotly debated since inanimate objects can have magic also. Some people have more of that energy than others, some can see it better, and a few can even manipulate it. That's what defines a mage, someone who has the talent to bend the mage-energy to his will." Scully frowned, it did make a certain amount of sense, though she was still skeptical. "And Mulder has the talent to manipulate this energy stuff?" "Yes, exactly," Reinald answered. "Everyone is different in their sensitivity to it. I think..." he studied her gravely for a moment. "I think you have some slight ability yourself, though its obvious from your aura that you are more of a healer than a Mage, and much more a warrior than a healer." Mulder had been quiet for a while, trying to absorb the information, but he couldn't help responding to the last statement. "Now I could have told you that," he said with a smile. "Shut up, Mulder." Scully said, shooting him a daggered look, then turning back to Reinald. "I'm not sure I'm ever going to get all of this, but what exactly did you mean by our auras? Some people in our world say they can see them, but I've never really understood what they are supposed to be." "They are fields of energy that surrounds every living thing. I think you both can see them if you concentrate on it." Scully gave him an unconvinced stare, but Mulder was game to try. He peered at both Reinald and Scully, twisting his head side to side, squinting. Scully couldn't help letting out a giggle at the sight of him. "Mulder!" she protested lightly. "Hey, I think I got it!" he exclaimed, eyes brightening. "Reinald is all blue, and Scully...you're all green. Well, brown and green. But mostly green!" Reinald smiled at him approvingly, nodding. Scully looked at them both like they were crazy, the sat back in her chair and changed the subject. "How can you speak our language if you've never been to our 'world?'" Reinald grinned. "Through a new creation of mine - a language spell. This is the first chance I've had to try it out. I'm delighted with how well it works." "Can you make one for us to understand your language?" Mulder was fascinated. "Hmm, maybe. Mine is keyed to me, but it should be possible to duplicate it for you. With some training you ought to be able to do it for yourself." Reinald responded thoughtfully. "With training being the operative word," Mulder said with frustration. Scully couldn't help thinking that it might take more than that, but again she changed the subject, this time to something that had been bothering her throughout the conversation. "Magic aside, what about those creatures who attacked us in the woods? You said there were more of them?" she asked. Reinald frowned, his eyes darkening. "Yes, there have been a flood of them over the last two years. Somehow, they seem to have gained some control over the vortex, enough to be sending through an increasing number of creatures. The beasts you fought with are probably the mildest of them." Both Scully and Mulder shuddered at that thought. Reinald nodded grimly. "So far they have been mostly randomly ambushing our people. Attacking the more isolated settlement, an occasional small village, but they're creeping in on us a little more every day. I'm afraid we're going to be hit by a full-scale invasion sometime soon." "When we 'communicated' through the vortex, it seemed like you thought Scully and I could help," Mulder questioned. "Even if I do have some magical ability, I still don't see how much help just the two of us can give." "I'm not sure either," Reinald answered. "But you two do fit an old prophecy. When I saw the two of you through Tarnor, I was shocked. No one had really taken the old story seriously, and suddenly there you were." "What prophecy?" Scully asked. "An ancient one, most of which has been lost or garbled over the years. It's become a kind of myth. To summarize, the story says that when we are threatened by some great evil, a healer-warrior will lead us in battle while two magicians, one from this world and one from another, will unite to win the final confrontation, and banish the evil from this world forever. You see, Scully, your particular aura, with its combination of healer brown and warrior green is unique. It never happens. Those two talents are considered opposites. So when I saw it, so close to a strong Mage power, I suddenly realized that you two HAD to be the fulfillment of the prophecy." Scully and Mulder exchanged glances, neither one sure how to respond to this. It all seemed utterly unreal. Scully felt like she had been on a roller coaster for far too long. Even with the aid of the potion and Corvay's healing, she was still ready to collapse. Mulder was tired too, and even though his intense curiosity was running at full speed, one look at Scully's pale face was enough to convince him they'd had enough for tonight. "This is a lot for us to absorb," he said. "And we're both exhausted. Maybe we should call it a night, and get some sleep." Reinald gave him a sheepish look, and immediately apologized. "I'm so sorry. I knew better than to keep you up for so long after all you've just been through. I'm exhausted myself." He stood up and went over by the fireplace, reaching up to yank on a cord hanging against the wall. "Lets get you settled into a room, so you can get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow we can get your training started." "Training," Both Mulder and Scully spoke at once. "Well, we can hardly have an untrained mage wandering around. Mulder, you're leaking mage energy like a broken glass. If you don't learn control soon, you could cause a major disaster. In a way, your training is more to protect people from you than anything else. I've put a makeshift shield on you for now. It will hopefully hold until we teach you to do it yourself." Mulder grimaced and nodded. After his experiences in the forest, he wasn't about to argue about this. The last thing he wanted to do would be to accidentally blast some innocent person. "Okay, that explains Mulder's training, but what am I supposed to be learning?" Scully questioned. "Fighting skills, of course. You'll need to know how to handle a sword. I don't suppose you've ever done any sword- fighting before." "Sword-fighting, of course not!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening with surprise. "Why would I want to?" "In this case, it's for your protection. You've got a warrior's aura, and the last thing we need is for you to get challenged before you know how to defend yourself. And with everything that's happening out there, we need every trained soldier we can get, prophecy aside. Jourdain has arranged for you to train with one of his best officers. Her name is Aldara, and she's about your size. I think you'll like her." A knock at the door caught Reinald's attention, and he left them to cross the room. As Reinald let a young human servant into the room and issued instructions in the musical language of the Realm, Mulder and Scully just stared at each other for a moment. Reaching out to tenderly sweep a bright red strand of hair off her cheek, Mulder softly asked her, "Are you all right?" She closed her eyes for a moment, then sighed. "I'm okay, Mulder. Just tired, dirty, and feeling a little shell-shocked." He sighed wearily. "Me, too." - - - - - Speechless and numb from exhaustion, Mulder and Scully followed the servant through the labyrinthine corridors and staircases of the castle. His arm was around her shoulder, hers around his waist as they trudged along stone corridors lit by torches which created eerie, flickering shadows. In spite of her fatigue, Scully's attention was drawn to the hangings which were displayed on the walls. At first glance, they were not unlike medieval tapestries she had seen in museums. Some were merely decorative while others seemed to illustrate a story; whether a fable or a tale from the history of the Realm, Scully wasn't sure. The richness of the colors and materials amazed her, but there was something else which caught her attention. The images in the wall hangings were three dimensional - almost like a woven hologram, if such a thing were possible. She stopped to examine the tapestry in wonder, fingering the fine material, then looked up at Mulder to speak, and hesitated. His heavy eyelids were drooping closed and he was swaying on his feet. Gently she nudged him and they once again forced themselves to drag their feet to follow the young human. After what seemed like miles, the servant finally stopped in front of a large wooden door and opened it. It swung silently on its hinges to reveal a large stone-walled room. Mulder and Scully entered and looked around them as the door clicked quietly closed behind them. The chamber was at least forty feet in length and twenty five feet wide. A huge stone hearth dominated the far wall to their right, and tall narrow windows punctuated the wall directly opposite from where they were standing. Between the windows stood bookcases filled with richly bound volumes while fine woven rugs dotted the stone floor, and tapestries similar to those in the corridors decorated the high stone walls of the room. A large copper tub stood in the far corner. Most of the furniture was wooden - a giant armoire, a refectory table and chairs, and numerous smaller tables and other items scattered around the room. Two comfortable looking upholstered armchairs were positioned by the hearth. Steam wafted from a kettle set near the fire, and nearby on a low table between the armchairs was a tray containing cups, a teapot and a small loaf. Illumination was provided by the fire in the fireplace and by torches set into brackets at intervals along the walls. There was a door in the near wall to their left. Swathed in diaphanous hangings which were tied back for the moment, an enormous, high bed jutted from the same wall. "Sorry, Scully, I was sure I had reserved a double." Mulder peered down at her anxiously. She was dealing with so much right now. She didn't want to be here in the first place, yet it appeared she was going to be instrumental in helping this strange world fight for its existence, at the risk of her own. Everything around her, this world, this situation - all of this had to be an assault to her belief system, which was so rooted in the scientific, the explainable. He was concerned not only about her safety but also about how she was handling this threat to her most cherished and fundamental beliefs. And she probably held him at least partially responsible for this entire situation. The last thing she needed right now was another complication, forcing an issue that she was not yet ready to face. "Uh, look - don't worry about it. I'll just curl up in one of those chairs by the fireplace, no problem. I don't sleep much, anyway," he said. "Don't be an idiot, Mulder," Scully said, not unkindly. "We may be here for a very long time - you can't sleep in the chair for weeks or months. Maybe you should have arranged to transport your couch through the Vortex." She smiled up at him. "Tonight, I'm too tired to care. Don't worry, we'll manage." He looked down at her and decided to broach the subject he had been avoiding since they entered the Realm. "Are you okay with all of this? I know you were angry with me and I probably deserve it, but Scully, I swear, I didn't mean for this to happen. Yes, I wanted to come here. Hell, the curiosity was killing me. But there's no way I would have tricked or forced you into coming against your will. I can't say I'm not glad you're here; I am. But I'd be happier if I knew you didn't hate my guts right now." His voice and expression were calm, but his eyes said it all. The guilt, that once again he had placed her in jeopardy; the fear, that their mutual trust had been shattered; the respect and caring he felt for her; all were there for her to see. Scully's expression was grave, her eyes shimmering. Between the exhaustion and the events of the day, she was close to tears. "I don't blame you for all this, Mulder. Well, I did at first, but when I really thought about it, I knew you wouldn't do this intentionally. But all this is so hard for me. I feel like I'm on a bad acid trip, or as if I were in a kind of mental freefall. I can't explain any of this." Her voice broke. "I feel lost." She took a deep breath, her shoulders sagging as she exhaled. "God, I'm so tired." Mulder put out a tentative hand and gently caressed her cheek. Softly he said, "Go sit by the fire. I'll make tea - or whatever it is." Scully flopped into the first chair she came to. "How do we know it's not toxic?" "Well, I guess we don't. That potion or whatever that Reinald gave us was okay. Anyway, we have to eat and drink sometime." Mulder removed the lid from the teapot and sniffed at the contents. He added water from the kettle, then replaced the lid. "I'll drink it first - if I don't keel over, then you can have some. Deal?" "No. We'll drink it together. I'll be damned if you're going to die and leave me here alone." He flashed her a grin. "That's the spirit, Scully." Mulder poured the fragrant brew into the thick earthenware cups and handed one to Scully before lowering himself into the other armchair with a sigh of relief. "Okay, Scully, if you can suspend your disbelief and just go with this for a minute - what do you think of Reinald and what he had to say?" "That's a big 'if,' Mulder. I don't know, I'm black and blue from pinching myself, so I know I'm awake. Well, barely. Do I believe you have the powers he says you do? No. You've got many talents, Mulder, but magic? I can't suspend my disbelief that much. I'm not happy that Reinald seems unsure whether or not he can get us back throught the Vortex." She shook her head. "I'm still not convinced all this isn't a dream, that I'll wake up and all this will be forgotten by lunchtime. How can this be possible, how can this place exist?" Mulder stretched his long legs out closer to the fire. "I've been thinking about that. Neumann was very coy, but he did say they had been doing experiments involving the space-time continuum. What if those experiments somehow caused whatever it is that divides our reality from this one, to rupture? Reinald seemed to indicate that the Vortex just appeared one day, and comes and goes, independently of any factors from this reality. Wouldn't that correlate well with the intermittant nature of the experiments? No one knows that much about time and space. It certainly wouldn't be the first time we were experimenting without an understanding of the powers that we were dealing with. You at least have to admit that it's a possibility, Scully." "Oh, I'll admit that much. Did you buy the stuff about the prophecy?" "Every culture has prophecies, and usually events occur which can be interpreted as fulfilling those prophecies. Although this prophecy is so specific...I don't know." He smiled at her. "Believe it or not, Scully, I don't just automatically subscribe to every weird belief that comes down the pike. I've got a doctorate in psychology and I've had lots of training in the scientific method. I just choose to believe that science, or what we know of science, doesn't go far enough sometimes. That there is a, I don't know, call it a higher science or higher wisdom, that can offer explanations that conventional science can't." "Do you think that you have magical powers? Come on, Mulder, be honest." Scully was regarding him with a slight smile. "Well, I didn't. But I helped to construct the Gate that brought us here. Reinald gave the instructions, he told me what to do and how to do it. But Scully, some of that - whatever it was - came from me, I know it did. I felt it, I controlled it. And I know I want to learn more about it." "You're going through with the training?" "Of course, aren't you? After all, we're here for a while, at least until the Vortex reopens, or Reinald can figure out a way to open it up enough so both of us can get through. And just think - what if it's all true - the prophecy, the threat to the Realm, our being able to save it. This may be our whole reason for existence." He smiled teasingly at her. "Open yourself to extreme possibilities, Scully." "I don't think they've ever been more extreme. Okay, for now I'll go along with it, including the training. But Mulder, keep in mind that this isn't our reality, and it may not be anyone's reality. This may all be an illusion." "Fair enough. As long as you keep in mind that it may be a reality - our reality - for quite some time to come, okay?" He got to his feet wearily and offered her a hand out of the deep cushions of the chair. They leaned into each other in their fatigue, and he put an arm around her shoulders as they walked away from the fireplace. Every several feet, they stopped to extinguish the torches along the wall. "God, I'm exhausted. What time is it, anyway?" Scully asked, yawning. "Good question. My watch stopped when we went through the Vortex. I have a feeling some rules don't apply here. Certainly time may not be the same." He peered out of one of the tall windows. "It's dark out, so it must be night. I'm beat, too. You're sure you're okay with the sleeping arrangements? It's a big castle, you could probably have your own room." "No!" she said quickly. She colored a bit, then said, "No, I'd really prefer it if we weren't separated right now. It's a big bed, Mulder. There's plenty of room for the both of us." She looked at him enigmatically for a few seconds, then once again became all business. "Now, I wonder if the Realm has discovered plumbing?" Mulder opened the door near the bed. "In here, maybe?" He took a torch from the chamber and brought it into the small room, setting it into a bracket. The fixtures were primitive and not at all what they were used to, but their purpose was unmistakable and Scully had no problem divining their use. On the other side of the small room was a stone counter. A pitcher of warm scented water stood next to a ewer,and a stack of soft, folded cloths sat beside them. Scully stripped down to her slip and washed, noting that the scented water took on a whole new fragrance when it came in contact with her skin. She felt a little better afterwards. When she was finished, Mulder took his turn while she explored the armoire. Inside, she found a silky flowing garment she could use as a nightshirt. It was a little short, perhaps, but otherwise it fit well, and its dark green color complemented her creamy white skin and auburn hair wonderfully. "Why are the beds so high when so many of the people are so small?" wondered Scully aloud, trying to find a graceful way to get into bed. The mattress had to be at least four feet from the floor. Mulder quietly emerged from the bathroom, and seeing Scully, his breath caught in his throat. There were times, usually the least convenient or appropriate ones, that he was made forcefully aware that his partner was a very beautiful and desirable woman. He brutally quashed the thoughts that were rising, unbidden, in his mind. "Problem, Scully?" She looked over her left shoulder at him as he walked to the side of the bed. Her heart skipped a beat, then raced to catch up. He was clad only in boxers, his damp hair tousled boyishly, and he had acquired his own special aroma from the scented wash water. The light from the torch caught the angles of his face, the definition of the muscles on his lean body. It occurred to her that the sleeping arrangements might prove more difficult than she first believed. "Turn around." Wordlessly, a little breathlessly, she turned to face him, not knowing quite what to expect. He placed his warm hands at her waist, then effortlessly boosted her up on to the bed. Their eyes met for a second, then slid away almost by mutual consent, neither of them ready to see what was there. She pulled down the bedcover and quickly slid under it and snuggled down. Mulder extinguished the torch nearest the bed, leaving the embers of the fireplace as the sole source of light. He crossed to his side of the bed, boosted himself up and joined her under the covers. They turned to face away from each other, he on his side of the bed, she on hers, and a wide no man's land in the center. "G'night, Scully." "G'night, Mulder." Within minutes, Scully's breathing was deep and regular. In spite of his exhaustion, it was quite some time before Mulder followed her into sleep. - - - - - "No! NOOOO!" Together they sat bolt upright in bed, both sweating, hearts racing, gasping huge breaths into burning lungs, tear-filled eyes wide with terror. Mulder recovered first, and moved to sit at the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, then furtively wiped the moisture from his cheeks. He heard the wind outside, howling, blowing leaves against the tall windows. He glanced behind him over his shoulder, noticing Scully for the first time, and, uncertain of his voice, gently cleared his throat. "Sorry, Scully. Just one of my nightmares. I didn't mean to wake you. I'm going to stay up for a while. You go back to sleep." Her voice was quavering, uncertain. "I'm not so sure I want to, Mulder. This is bizarre, but... I was having your dream." "What?" He snapped around to stare at her. She was white and shaking. "I'm telling you, it was weird. It was like I WAS you, seeing everything from your eyes, thinking your thoughts, feeling your emotions. But at the same time, I knew that I was me." She frowned. "That doesn't sound like it makes any sense, but that's how it felt." She looked up at him, disturbed and frightened. Is this really what he saw and felt every time he had a nightmare? How had he managed to keep his sanity? Mulder looked at her intently. "What exactly did you see?" Closing her eyes to concentrate better, she proceeded to tell him what she had seen in the nightmare in exhaustive detail. As she spoke, Mulder's expression wavered repeatedly between shock and mortification and discomfort. He had never felt so naked, so exposed, in his life. When she finally finished and opened her eyes, his expression had been tamed into careful neutrality. "What happened, Mulder? How could this happen?" He reached out and took her hand, and caressed the back of it with his thumb. He kept his tone light. "Don't make too much of it, Scully. You've known about my nightmares for a long time, and you know what they're usually about. You've listened to the regression tapes, you've read Samantha's X-File. You know just about everything there is to know about her abduction. Plus, it's not exactly been a routine kind of day, and we're both overtired and overstimulated. It's just a coincidence, that's all. Don't worry about it. Go back to sleep." Somewhat reassured, she settled back down, and exhaustion returned her to sleep quickly. Mulder carefully slid out of bed and padded across the cool stones and warm thick rugs to the opposite end of the room. He added another log to the bright embers in the hearth, and using a poker, stirred the fire into life again. Then he sat in one of the armchairs to think. At this point, Scully did not need something else that she couldn't find a rational scientific explanation for. But Mulder was unnerved enough for the two of them by her experience. She had not only shared every bit of his nightmare - including thoughts and emotions he had never told anyone, not even Dr. Verber - but she had remembered it with the precision of HIS photographic memory. What the hell was happening? End Chapter 3 From: jennyann@ix.netcom.com (Jennifer Lyon) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "Magician" chp4/prt1 (7/31) Date: 31 May 1995 01:03:35 GMT The Magician An X-File Story by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@aol.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@aol.com) Disclaimer: The X-Files, and the characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, and all rights thereto, are the property of FOX Broadcasting Network. The remainder of this story is the property of the authors. All comments are welcome. Authors' note: This story is a small departure from most X-Files fanfiction. At its heart, it is a fantasy, a slightly deeper trip into the 'realm' of make-believe. Sit back, relax, suspend your disbelief, and let us tell you a tale. Enjoy! Chapter Four - Part One Mulder's eyes flew open the second he heard the soft footsteps, but he remained motionless. Facing the sunlit windows as he was, he couldn't see anything. He turned over as if in sleep to try to see who was in their room, only to encounter his slumbering partner, her head now fast against his chest, his arm around her back and shoulders. The footsteps left the room and Mulder relaxed, giving in to temptation. Promising himself it would be only for a moment, he buried his face in her silky auburn hair, breathing in her scent deeply. Then the door opened, the footsteps returned and again he became alert as their intruder headed for the other end of the room. This was pleasant, thought Scully, wriggling sensuously and purring a little. A lovely way to wake up, in the strong arms of a ma- ! Abruptly, she awoke, and was held in place by a grip that had suddenly turned to iron. Carefully, she looked up and caught the caution in Mulder's eyes. Barely moving, barely audible, he placed his lips next to her ear and said, "Scully, we are not alone." She almost giggled - he had been saying that for years. Then she stiffened as she too heard other noises from the end of the room. Obviously, their intruder had abandoned efforts to not awaken them. Mulder again caught her eye and deliberately, he nodded three times. On the third nod, they sat up in unison and slid out of the high bed, and started moving purposefully towards the intruder. The elf turned to them and smiled, saying something in the spoken song that was the language of the Realm in a surprisingly low pitched musical voice. Realizing that her words carried no meaning, she walked over to the refectory table, where breakfast has been laid, indicating that they should sit and eat. Mulder looked at Scully and shrugged. They walked over to the table and sat. There were baskets of fresh warm breads and a wooden platter containing unfamiliar but fragrant fruits and something that looked like cheese. There were two earthenware bowls containing some thick, creamy looking liquid, and a large teapot from which a wonderful aroma was wafting. "I know I should probably be more careful about this, but frankly Scully, I'm too hungry to care." Mulder had finished making his selections from the bread basket and had turned his attention to sampling as many different fruits as possible. "Any idea what the white stuff is?" "I thought YOU were going to be MY guinea pig, Mulder." Scully covered the tip of her spoon with the creamy substance and cautiously tasted it. "Ummm. Kind of like yogurt but smoother and sweeter and not so tangy. My opinion might change once I know where this stuff comes from, but for now I'd say it was delicious. How's the fruit?" "Good. Those blue things are pretty sour, but the orange ones taste a little like apples. The bread is wonderful, and I'm just working up the courage to try that cheese. The tea, by the way, is incredible - it's like tea and vitamins and Jolt Cola all wrapped up into one. I may run a marathon when I'm through with breakfast." "Save your energy, Mulder. From what Reinald said last night, you're going to need it for your training. Come to think of it, pass the tea down here, please - I think I'm going to need it, too." When the edge was off their hunger, they paid less attention to the food and more to the third occupant in the room, who was now in the process of filling the copper tub with steaming buckets of water. She was obviously feminine, and tiny, not more than a meter tall, with gamine features and short curling dark hair. She wore a short sleeved tunic and loose pants in an attractive shade of rose. Although she was slender, the ease with which she hoisted the huge buckets of water spoke of strength unexpected in such a small package. She half-chanted, half-sang to herself as she worked, oblivious to Scully and Mulder. She left the side of the tub, and moved to the huge bed. >From underneath it, she extracted a kind of narrow platform. Standing on the platform, she had no difficulty straighting the bedclothes, first on one side of the bed, then on the other. Scully and Mulder watched her lightning quick movements, fascinated. She was done in no time. Then she was at their sides, trying with very little success to explain something. Finally, she went to the armoire, extracted some items and pushed them into Scully's arms. She made a little bowing or bobbing motion, then lightly took Scully's wrist, pulling it gently. Scully shrugged at Mulder, then allowed herself to be led to the bathroom, where the servant's gestures made it clear what she was to do next. Scully stood with her hand on the door latch and called down to Mulder. "I guess I'll be getting washed and dressed in here, Mulder. The tub must be yours. Have fun." Suddenly wary, Mulder turned his attention to the servant, who performed the strange bobbing motion again, and lightly took his wrist and tugged. Feeling a little foolish, he allowed himself to be led across the room by the tiny sprite to the side of the copper tub. She smiled and nodded, then grasped the waistband of his boxers and began pulling downward. Aghast, Mulder brushed away her hands, grabbed the waistband and pulled up. "Scully!" The servant patiently began to explain the procedure, which of course was lost on Mulder, and again took the waistband in her hands. There was no mistaking the panic in his voice this time. "SCULLY!" Scully shot out of the bathroom, pulling her clothes around her and clutching a pair of suede boots. "What's going on, Mulder?" Blushing, perspiring, he looked at her, his eyes wide. "She wants to take my clothes off! I think she wants to give me a bath!" After a second's hesitation, Scully started to laugh, and kept on laughing until tears ran down her cheeks and she fell to her knees, grasping her abdomen. Finally she regained control, stopped laughing and wiped her eyes. She looked up at him, still giggling a little and said, "I'm sorry, Mulder, really. I just couldn't help it. That's the best offer you've had in months, and you don't want to take it? There's no pleasing some people." "Scully, you know very well that there's a big difference between that and - " "Yeah, I know." Scully stood up, and began tucking her loose white shirt into her leather breeches. "Okay Mulder, it's up to you. It looks like this "assisted bathing" is the accepted thing in this culture, and you can either go along with it gracefully or not. She's just trying to do her job. I might also point out that as we're probably going to be here for quite some time, we're going to have to adapt to a lot of strange things. You might as well start now. In any case, I'm leaving to find this Aldara person." She leaned against the table to pull on her boots. "Hey, Scully. Nice outfit." He nodded approvingly at her, his eyes warm. "Be careful, okay?" She returned the warmth in her smile. "Always, Mulder." A second later, she was gone. Mulder turned his attention to his tiny servant. When in Rome.... He released the waistband of his boxers and spread his arms wide, abandoning himself to his fate. - - - - - Scully had not gone far when she realized that directions would have been helpful. Although the corridors of the castle were considerably more populated now than they had been the previous night, the language barrier still presented problems. Finally, on her fourth attempt she had succeeded in getting her message across, only to have a helpful troll give her detailed instructions on how to find Aldara, in a language she could not comprehend. She had resigned herself to spending several hours lost in the corridors of the castle when by chance she stumbled, literally, over Tarnor. The little creature turned around to give the clumsy oaf that fell over him a piece of his mind when he recognized Scully. He bobbed, then took her wrist and pulled her down the hall as fast as her feet could carry her. When he was sure that she would continue to follow, he released her wrist, but did not drop the pace, chattering away. Scully figured he was probably giving her hell for being late for Aldara. After countless turns and trips up and down staircases, they found themselves in a large courtyard. Tarnor yelled across the courtyard to a figure who waved, and started toward them. Then he spoke a few more words to Scully, showed his pointed teeth in what she thought was meant to be a smile, and left. Happy to see the little thing doing so well after yesterday's horrors, she watched him leave, then turned her attention to the approaching figure. This was Aldara, the warrior instructor? thought Scully. The woman coming toward her was just a few inches shorter than Scully, but had the same elfen features that their servant had possessed. Her hair was long, curly and black, and her eyes were the brightest green Scully had ever seen. She could not have weighed eighty pounds, dripping wet. Now I know why this place is in so much trouble, thought Scully. Aldara advanced, holding her hand out, and Scully grasped it warmly. That was the last thing she did before flying through the air to land in a heap about ten feet away from where she had started. "What the hell was that for?" she demanded angrily, only to be answered with Aldara's tinkling laughter. "Okay, so we're going to play rough." Scully got to her feet, her mind going back over every martial arts class she had ever taken, and dropped to a defensive posture. She and Aldara circled each other several times, parrying and feinting, then Aldara sprang for her throat. With a few quick moves, Scully eluded her attack, had Aldara on the ground and was straddling her, her knuckles drawn back and ready to deliver a potentially fatal blow. Aldara nodded, smiled, and raised her arms in submission. "Funny way you have of saying Hi here," Scully said coolly, getting up and offering a hand to her opponent. They locked eyes for a moment, smiled, and then Aldara took Scully's hand and hauled herself up off the cobbles of the courtyard. They brushed themselves off, and Aldara made a beckoning motion. Together they set off across the busy plaza. Everywhere stalls were set up, decorated with brilliantly colored flags and banners and signs, and vendors were singing, chanting, calling attention to their wares. This was evidently the Realm version of the mall, thought Scully. All sorts of foodstuffs, cloth, nails and tools, casks of this and barrels of that were for sale, by more different kinds of beings than Scully could have ever imagined. Fascinated by the scene around her, Scully's eyes were everywhere, but she was careful not to lose track of Aldara - she would never find her if they were separated in this crowd. They soon left the colorful marketplace behind, cut through a stable, and finally arrived at an open area adjacent to a blacksmith's forge. Aldara went to a recessed wall protected by an overhang. Scully saw that the wall was in effect a weapons rack. Aldara looked back at Scully, performed some kind of calculation, and chose a sword. Carefully, she affixed leather guards to both her sword and Scully's, then handed the agent her weapon. Taken completely by surprise by the weight of the weapon, she nearly dropped it but recovered in time to save herself that particular embarrassment. These things never looked like they were this heavy in the movies. Damn, thought Scully, this thing has to weigh at least twenty pounds. Experimentally, she held the handle in her right hand and tried to raise the six foot long piece of metal and found it next to impossible. Aldara came up behind her, and grasping Scully's hands, placed them properly on the hilt. She then helped Scully to raise the sword and swing it in an arc around their heads. She dropped her hands, ran over to pick up her own sword, and motioned for Scully to copy her movements. For at least two hours, the instructor and her student swung their weapons at targets and practiced the rudiments of swordsmanship, stopping only when Scully could scarcely raise her arms. As it was, pure Scully stubbornness had been the only thing stopping her from begging for a rest for the last twenty minutes or more. Finally, Aldara indicated that she should sit, and went into the forge, while Scully collapsed gratefully on a hay bale. A few minutes later, Aldara emerged with two mugs brimming with the same kind of tea they had had for breakfast. Scully gulped it greedily, and was rewarded by a warm, potent feeling starting in her stomach and spreading to her limbs. She almost groaned, it felt so good. Aldara chuckled softly and refilled Scullly's mug from her own. When they had finished, Aldara gestured to Scully and the two women walked back toward the stables. Aldara exchanged a few words with the farrier and within a few minutes, two saddled horses were led up to them. One of the stableboys assisted Aldara to mount, then she waited until Scully was also on her horse. But these horses were certainly a breed she had never seen. They were enormous, easily 22 hands high, with a long, ground-eating stride. The two women walked their horses out into the sunshine, heading for an open field about a hundred yards away. Scully had a feeling she was about to regret all those times in summer camp that she had opted for sailing at the expense of horseback riding. Her equestrian skills were sorely tested by a gentle canter around a fenced-in ring - and somehow Scully felt that somewhat more than that would be expected of her. She had no sooner had the thought than Aldara said something to her, and kicked her horse into a gallop. Scully's mount did not wait for any direction, but took off after its companion, tumbling its rider off in the process. "Ooooofff! Shit!" Scully painfully picked herself up off the ground, wiggling an arm here, an ankle there to check herself for any debilitating injuries that would prevent her from having to get back on that damned beast. Unfortunately, she found none, and her mood was not improved by the return of Aldara and the horses. Looking at the animal with a jaundiced expression, she led it over to a fence, which she climbed and then hopped onto the horse's back from there. This time, Aldara took it slower, and Scully felt her confidence starting to return as she proceeded without incident from walk to trot to canter. When Aldara felt she could handle it, after some two hours of basic horseback riding drills, the lessons began in earnest. Aldara would demonstrate some totally hair raising stunt, like galloping the length of the field without holding the reins, and Scully was expected to follow suit. "Easy for her, she's probably been riding since before she could walk," grumbled Scully. But she gamely, and at great cost to her physical wellbeing and her pride, attempted everything Aldara was showing her. They took a break in the midafternoon. From the saddlebags came flasks of the now familiar tea and a couple small loaves of a dark, sweet bread. After they had eaten, the two women looked at each other, smiled and shrugged. It was frustrating to have so many questions that went unasked. Scully resolved to talk to Reinald tonight to see what could be done to break down the language barrier. She was sure she'd pick up the language sooner or later, but in the meantime the lack of communication couldn't be doing her training program any good, and it could even be dangerous. Finally the two women lay back and rested for a while, Aldara napping, and Scully just glad to be off the damned horse. The day was gorgeous - sunny, mild, cool breeze, puffy pink and white clouds in the bright blue sky. She gave a passing thought to Mulder, wondering how he was faring in his magic lessons, and more than a little resentful that compared to her, he had it so easy. - - - - - "Yeeeeooooow!" Mulder was hanging upside down in midair, suspended about five feet above the stone floor. Reinald cast a look skyward that cursed his fate, then wiggled a finger and Mulder came crashing to the floor. "That is a very good example of what happens when you don't first center your power and properly tune your shield. And if you try to levitate anything without grounding yourself, you will be what's levitated. This little exercise is harmless, but if you don't center and ground your power or adjust your shield, it could be fatal with many of the other spells." "Not precisely harmless, " grunted Mulder, rubbing his shoulder. "I've never had to teach this before - these are all things that a Mage child knows before it can crawl. I can't believe you haven't killed yourself long before this. So much power in such untrained hands - it's unthinkable. All right - again." Mulder picked himself off the stone floor for what seemed the fiftieth time that day and sighed. Concentrating, he closed his eyes and focused his inner energy on a small bottle which sat on a table across the room. Pointedly, he mentally drew down his shield, then willed the bottle to come to him, slowly this time, slowly, slowly; and then to hang in midair two feet from him, where he could just open his eyes and - Crash! "It appears, Mulder, that I will run out of bottles before you have grasped the concepts of this lesson." In the safety of the corner, Grejor snorted, but quickly lost his amusement when the icy stares of not one but two Mages fell upon him. Mulder looked at Reinald and said hopefully, "They're getting closer to me before they fall - don't I get points for that?" Reinald looked at him sourly. "No." Mulder rubbed his eyes and sighed. "The concentrating isn't the problem, it's when I open my eyes. I just get so excited when I see that I actually levitated something, I lose my train of thought." "I would suggest that you curb your exuberance. We don't have the time for it. You have so much to learn, so much more than I thought would be necessary. Now - again." Again, determined, Mulder followed the steps. Center. Ground. Shield. Concentrate. He opened his eyes and plucked the bottle out of the air. "Easy when you know how," he murmured, looking in wonder at the little bottle. Reinald permitted himself a small smile. "It appears that we make progress, Mulder. Perhaps we shall manage to teach you what you need to know before you accidentally kill us all. Now - again." Mulder repeated the exercise flawlessly more than twenty times, then Reinald began adding different permutations. Each change brought with it a few smashed bottles, but eventually Mulder could make the bottle spin around the room, move it from one point to another, start and stop it repeatedly along its path, and move it between himself and Reinald at his will. Reinald nodded approvingly and glided over to the table. "We will rest for a short while, Mulder. Have some tea." As Mulder turned, he became aware of something hurtling towards his head. Instantly, he dropped to the floor, and cautiously looked up to see if he could identify the missile. A cup sailed overhead and smashed into the wall at the other end of the room, spattering its contents on a rather nice tapestry and onto the floor. Reinald looked down at him and shook his head. "You have the powers, now use them. It must become second nature, Mulder, something that you don't think about, something effortless or there is no point. Get up - it seems we have more work to do." It was over an hour later when Reinald finally stopped the drills and allowed Mulder a break. He collapsed on a low stool and massaged his throbbing temples. Any progress he had made was at the expense of a terrific headache. Wordlessly he accepted the mug of fragrant tea and gulped half of it down. Immediately, his head started to feel better, and he was as refreshed as if he had taken a good long nap. "When I go back, this stuff goes with me," he declared, only half kidding. Reinald's eyes sparkled, but he did not respond to Mulder's comment. "You've made some progress today. Only practice will reinforce these lessons to the point that using your powers becomes as natural as breathing. But I must caution you - for now, do not attempt any magic unless I am with you. You are at an extremely dangerous stage right now. You know that you possess power, but you don't know enough about using it. I'm quite serious when I tell you that if you made certain errors right now, you could kill yourself or those around you. I'm not sure I would have risked bringing you through the Vortex if I had known you were untrained." "You didn't bring me through the Vortex, it was an accident." Suddenly suspicious, Mulder looked at Reinald directly and saw a slight change in his aura, a slight wavering. "Wasn't it?" he demanded. Could his and Scully's trip through the Vortex have been manipulated? Outside, the skies abruptly clouded over. For his part, Reinald could see the increase in the intensity of Mulder's aura, and was alarmed. "Strong emotion must also be avoided right now. It could bring on" - a huge crash of thunder obscured what the magician said. "Then suppose you tell me the truth," snapped Mulder. Reinald looked at the expression on Mulder's face. "All right - but first you must ground your energy. Do it now, quickly!" Mulder stared at Reinald as lightning flashed through the sky. He took a deep breath, focused his mind on empty space, and pressed his energy into the stone floor, then exhaled. Sun once again streamed through the tall windows of Reinald's chamber. Puzzled, Mulder asked, "Did I do that?" "I told you your powers were dangerous and not to be taken lightly," Reinald spat out. "Yes, you did that. Ungrounded strong emotion of any kind can have an effect on the weather. Now do you see why it is so critical for you to learn controls?" Mulder shook his head as if to clear it. "Well, I'm still waiting - how accidental was our trip through the Vortex?" Reinald nodded. "Sit." When Mulder had complied, he continued. "I didn't pull you through the Vortex, if that's what you want to know. I was aware that our communication had a tendency to weaken you. The Vortex opened a bit more quickly than I expected it to, too quickly for you to get out of the way. Again, that was unintentional. I admit, I think I could have thrown you clear of it. I chose not to, I chose to leave it to the gods. Our need is so great and finding you was such a stroke of incredible good fortune, and I could not bring myself to throw that away. But I didn't bring you here. I just didn't do what I could to stop you. More tea?" Mulder held out his mug and thought over what Reinald had said. He felt the Mage was being honest with him. He could accept his reasoning; if the positions were reversed, he'd be at least tempted to do the same. But this was something he probably wouldn't share with Scully, at least not right away. Reinald looked at Mulder with some amusement . "I sense your wife is not as accepting of your situation as you are." Mulder nearly choked on his tea. "Wife? Scully's not my wife. In our reality, we're partners, we work together." Reinald looked confused. "But the life-bond - " Now it was Mulder's turn to look confused. "What's a life-bond?" Reinald got up and paced the room as he spoke. "A life-bond is the closest form of relationship, the highest sort of commitment. It is quite rare in our world, even most married people don't have a life-bond. Those who are life-bonded are, almost inevitably, married to each other. This is very difficult to explain, because it has, for us, great cultural and spiritual significance that no language spell can adequately translate." Reinald stopped his pacing to concentrate on the best way to describe the life-bond. "It is as if the man's and the woman's aura fit together like a lock and key - a perfect match. Not only do the auras fit together, but they can mix with each other, to achieve true Oneness. And the two - the man and the woman - together they are more than two, in their powers, in the depth of their feelings, in their capabilities. But alone, each is slightly less than a whole person - as if the other is an integral part of the self. Life-bonds develop over time, but as I said, most people never achieve a life bond. It is thought that there are two essential elements. First, an aural "predisposition" and secondly a physical proximity must both be present for the life-bond to develop. Most beings do not have the predisposition. Then, only a tiny minority of those who have the predisposition ever meet, and recognize the other that makes them whole. So it is a very rare thing. And in a Mage - unknown." Reinald observed Mulder closely. Mulder shook his head. "Scully and I are partners, we're friends, but that's all. Besides, if I'm supposed to have all these powers, how can I also have a life-bond? And why can't magicians have life-bonds?" Reinald smiled. "In our world, magicians don't form close relationships, usually not even friendships. It's thought to be too dangerous. And no Mage has ever been born with the predisposition, in any case. I can't explain why you do have a life-bond. I had assumed it was something common in your world, and permitted to your magicians. Apparently I was wrong. But make no mistake - you are much more than partners, much more than friends." Reinald smiled to himself - these beings were so strange, so unaware. "The longer you are in each other's company, the clearer that is going to be to you. But in the meantime, if I have inadvertently created an awkward situation, I will have an additional chamber prepared for your use." He reached for the wall cord to summon a servant. "No. No, that won't be necessary. At least not right now," Mulder murmured, distracted. He felt like someone had kicked his legs out from under him. In a way, Reinald's information explained so much. Their incredible effectiveness whenever they worked as a team. The feelings that he had for Scully that he tried to deny even to himself. The way Scully looked at him sometimes - yes, Scully would feel the same way! His heart leapt with that knowledge. But the life-bond was frightening, too. It meant that there were things he could no longer deny to himself. Each person was not a whole individual - the need for the other was so fundamental, so basic, that it was built right into the life-bond. And that thought terrified Mulder. It explained his feelings when he thought Scully was dying after her return from her abduction - his absolute certainty that he could not exist without her. If anything, this new knowledge of the life-bond intensified his fear of ever losing her. If what Reinald said about the life-bond was true, losing her would be losing himself. He had nearly been there once and it had come close to destroying him. If a life- bond meant the potential for that kind of devastation, Mulder wanted no part of it. There had already been more than enough loss in his life. Reinald's eyes narrowed as he watched Mulder, feeling the unshielded emotions that were almost overwhelming the young man. Just to be safe, he cast a brief spell to avoid weather disturbances for the next few hours until Mulder had had a chance to come to terms with this. "I think you have done enough for today. You have much to think about. I would be pleased if you and Scully could join me for dinner tonight. There will be someone here I want you to meet. We can decide on your lessons for tomorrow then. Get some rest. And remember - no magic, no strong emotion." Absently, Mulder accepted Reinald's invitation. The Mage pulled the braided cord and within seconds a servant appeared to show Mulder back to their chamber. For the rest of the afternoon, he stared into the fire in his hearth, thinking. - - - - - =============================================== Chapter Four - Part 2 Scully and Aldara faced each other, warily circling, each armed with two knives. As the swords had been earlier in the day, the knives were sheathed. For Scully, her drills and exercises with Aldara had now become a matter of pride. She had felt all day she was at a disadvantage, coping with learning totally new skills. With close hand to hand fighting and martial arts, she was on surer ground. For some reason, it was becoming increasingly important to her to have Aldara's respect. She certainly respected Aldara - the woman was incredible. She was lightning quick, totally fearless and amazingly accomplished at everything Scully had seen so far. She really regretted not being able to talk to her. Several times today both women had automatically started to speak in their respective languages, then grimaced in frustration and stopped. Scully hoped Reinald would be able to do something about this, and more than once wished that Star Trek's Universal Translators were a reality. As they circled each other, the sky became dark without warning, and a crash of thunder reverberated through the forested hills. Aldara jumped and looked fearful as lightning split the sky. Scully was not normally afraid of thunderstorms, but she was in a different world, and the weather certainly appeared to be making Aldara uneasy. Just when she was wondering whether she should take a cue from Aldara and look for cover, the sky cleared and the sun shone once again. Suddenly, Scully had a sense of being elsewhere, then recognized Reinald's chamber and heard his voice. She was too startled at first to pay much attention to what he was saying, but finally began to listen. He was saying something about how he might have been able to prevent them from falling throught the Vortex, but chose not to. She then felt a thought that it might be better not to offer this particular piece of information to Scully. The vision ended abruptly, and she shook her head to clear it. What was going on? Meanwhile, Aldara had resumed her aggressor's crouch, and Scully quickly did the same. In this exercise, the agent gave as good as she got, and she noticed some rather surprised approval on Aldara's face several times. Both women were grimy, bruised and perspiring by the time Aldara indicated that class was out for the day. Scully walked with her to the castle and followed her through the corridors, to finish up at a place which seemed familiar. Grejor answered Aldara's tentative knock and reluctantly fetched his master. Reinald spoke to Aldara for several minutes. By the number of times her name came up, Scully knew that she was the main topic of conversation. Reinald finally nodded a dismissal to Aldara, who performed a kind of salute to Scully and then disappeared down the hall. Reinald considered Scully's appearance. "It looks like you worked hard today. I have invited you and Mulder to dinner here in my chambers. You will want to freshen up before that." He summoned Grejor to find Scully's servant. When she arrived scant moments later, Reinald issued instructions to her. then he turned to Scully. "Lita will show you back to your chamber and draw your bath. She will also call for you and Mulder at the appropriate time and show you back here for dinner. Until then." He bowed slightly and Grejor opened the door, and Scully had no choice but to leave, somewhat frustrated. She had been hoping for an opportunity to ask some questions, starting with what she was supposed to wear tonight. Hopefully, someone had stocked the armoire with a wardrobe in her size, because she didn't think either her present outfit or her green nightshirt would be appropriate. The way back from Reinald's chamber was starting to look somewhat familiar, and Scully tried to keep track of the lefts and rights. The journey to their chamber did not seem to take as long as it had the previous night. As soon as they got inside, Lita started transferring hot water from the cauldron on the fire into the big copper tub. Scully gingerly lowered herself into the empty chair next to Mulder's by the hearth. "And how was your day?" she asked, noting his smudged tunic and pants. "Oh, you know. Same old, same old," he smiled. "You okay? You look like you've been through the wars." "I have, literally," she laughed, and gave him a brief summary of her day. "I hurt in places I didn't know I had. Aldara is amazing. I made the mistake of judging her on her size when I first met her. I'll never do that again. Anyway, if we stay here long enough, I'll either be in fantastic shape or I'll be dead," she joked. The dark shadow that crossed Mulder's face vanished as quickly as it had appeared, but not so quickly that Scully didn't catch it. "What's up, Mulder?" she asked softly. When he looked over at her, his innocent puppy dog expression was in place. "Nothing." "Cut the crap, Mulder." He shrugged. "I don't know. Flashbacks, I guess. Forget it." His expression lightened as he changed the subject. "Aren't you going to ask me what I learned in school today?" She decided not to press the issue, and sighed. "Okay, I'll bite - what did you learn in school today?" Mulder launched into a hilarious account of the day's events, but omitted his conversation with Reinald about the Vortex and the life-bond. Sooner or later he would have to talk to Scully about the life-bond, but not yet. And she definitely needed more time to become accustomed to the present situation before discussing Reinald's part in their passing through the Vortex. He was all the more startled, then, when Scully said, "So I understand our trip here wasn't entirely accidental?" "What? Who told you that?" Mulder said suspiciously. "Nobody. Mulder, it happened again. For a few seconds, I was you. I was there when you and Reinald were discussing how we got here, and Reinald said that he could have prevented our falling through the Vortex, but didn't." "Might have been able to prevent it," he corrected. "Okay, but the fact remains that he could have done something and he didn't. I don't like the idea of someone playing God with my life. And that includes you, Mulder. Where do you get off deciding what information should be passed on to me and what shouldn't? I'm a big girl, you know. I can take it." Mulder privately acknowledged that she might have a point, which made him all the more obstinant. "What, and you have no secrets from me, Scully? I was just trying to do you a favor. You seemed so overwhelmed last night, and knowing this particular piece of information would serve no purpose other than to get you upset. I would have told you eventually. What else did you hear or see?" Mulder was really alarmed now. He wasn't ready to deal with all the ramifications of the life-bond and he was certain that she wasn't either, regardless of her insistence in knowing everything. He wanted to give her more time to accept everything else that was happening before getting into the deeply personal issue of the life-bond, if it even existed. But if she had already "seen" it - She looked at him suspiciously. "That's all. There may have been more before that, but I really wasn't paying attention because I was so surprised. Well, that and the weather. Did you hear that freak thunderstorm that came out of nowhere?" "Uh - I did that." "What?" Scully's eyes flew open and a look of disbelief appeared on her face. Relieved to change the subject, Mulder said, "Yeah, apparently any strong emotions that I have that I forget to ground tend to cause sudden shifts in the weather. I had gotten upset when I thought that Reinald might have intentionally drawn us here. He didn't - I guess that's the part of the conversation you heard - but for a few seconds I thought he did and I got mad, and that's when the thunderstorm happened." "I'll have to remember not to piss you off. What do you think is causing these visions? This is the second time, Mulder." "Third, actually. Yesterday, after the soul-eaters attacked us and you had been bitten - I felt it, Scully, I was you for a few seconds. I don't know. Maybe it's normal in this place and happens to everyone. Or maybe it just happens to beings from our world who travel through the Vortex. Or maybe this is ESP that was latent in our world, but something about this place brings it out. We might want to keep this to ourselves just for now. Oh, Scully, I think our friend is trying to get your attention." Mulder grinned wickedly. "Her name is Lita. Evidently, my bath time is in the evening. Okay, Mulder, take a hike. Do we have any clothes, by the way?" "Yeah, the armoire is full of stuff for the both of us for every occasion. Reinald said that we'd be meeting someone special tonight. Unfortunately, I don't think there's a Mr. Blackwell around to tell us what to wear." "Maybe Lita will set things out. Anyway - vamoose, Mulder. Give me about 25 minutes." Actually, he gave her closer to thirty five, having become lost in the hallways. By the time he found his way back, Scully was just about finished dressing. "Scully - you're beautiful!" She was wearing a form fitting, long sleeved leaf green tunic made of a heavy satin fabric, shot through with silver threads, and caught at the waist by a delicate but ornate silver belt. Simple sandals were on her feet. Her hair was up, with damp tendrils curling around her face. The torches, now lit for the approaching darkness, highlighted the translucence of her skin. "Thanks," she said, almost shyly. "You'd better get ready." He scooped up the clothes lying on the bed and went into the bathroom. He emerged less than ten minutes later. "Well, Mulder, I'd say you're starting to get into the spirit of the place," observed Scully, but the frank admiration in her gaze belied the coolness of her words. He always looked good, but tonight, in these clothes which so complemented his tall, lean form, his appearance was enough to make her heart race. His outfit was a more formal version of what Scully had worn earlier in the day. His loose white shirt was of the finest linen, with a high tight collar and intricate embroidery down the full sleeves. The shirt was worn outside and gathered at the waist by a heavy leather belt. Tight suede breeches and high leather boots completed the outfit. Lita fussed over him a bit, making tiny adjustments here and there, then she nodded and motioned for them to follow her. This time, both Mulder and Scully thought they might have actually been able to find Reinald's quarters unaided. Grejor answered their knock and dismissed Lita, then stood back to allow them to enter. Reinald glided forward to greet them. It was obvious that he was making every effort to be a charming host. "Tonight, the Prince has joined us for dinner. I was anxious for you to get to know him. Oh, and the other individual is his uncle, Drellor," he said dismissively. "Scully, please have some wine. I am afraid I must offer you tea, Mulder. Magicians should avoid intoxicants of any kind - too dangerous." "That's fine," Mulder said. "But Reinald, how are we going to communicate with the Prince? No one but you speaks our language." "I've extended the language spell to cover this room for tonight. There should be no problem." Scully took a glass of wine from a tray that Grejor was passing around and turned to Reinald. "You're going to have to do better than that, Reinald. I have to be able to communicate with Aldara. It's very inconvenient not to be able to even ask simple directions. It's interfering with my lessons. We need to be able to speak your language. Mulder and I are perfectly willing to learn it the conventional way, but that will take a lot of time, time that we may not have. We're here in your Realm, we're willing to help fight for it. But we need to know what's going on, we need to be able to communicate. What can you do?" Her eyes looked directly into his. He looked at her equally directly. "To be truthful, I had hoped to limit your access somewhat." In response to Scully's quick frown, he raised his hands in a placating manner. "There are many things about your appearance here which some of our people would find confusing. They are simple, and know nothing of the existence of your world. They may become easily frightened." Mulder looked at him, caught the slight wavering of the Mage's aura. "And there's something else, isn't there? What is it, the Prophecy?" Reinald sighed and shrugged. "I'm not used to dealing with someone I can't shield from. All right, yes. Your appearance and descriptions do seem to be in conformance with the Prophecy. That is something that I would rather we keep to ourselves for now. Not only would it scare the people and raise lots of questions we don't want to answer right now, but we would be tipping our hand to our enemies. In our land, it is difficult to keep some secrets. Between the constant intrigue of the Court, and the fact that many of our people are sensitive to auras, keeping your secret will be difficult enough. If you can fully communicate, you might say something to alarm someone, let something slip." He shook his head. "No, it's too dangerous." "That may be," said Mulder quietly. "However, it is the price of our cooperation. We're prepared to lay it on the line for you..." Reinald's face clouded as the language spell faltered over the use of idiom. Mulder rephrased, "We're prepared to help you, the least you can do is trust us to communicate. It may even make the difference between life and death. Our work in our reality requires discretion and judgement; we will use it here as well." Reinald looked from Mulder to Scully and back again. Faced with the firm set of their jaws, the direct stare, the folded arms, he realized that he would not have his way, not with these people. Especially if they did fulfill the Prophecy. He exhaled forcefully, then said, "Very well. But I expect you to use your discretion and judgement. There are many here at the castle who cannot be trusted - the Prince's uncle amongst them. And there are few I trust completely. I will cast the spell tonight after everyone has gone. In the morning, you will speak, read and write our language." "Thank you," said Mulder. "Now, is there any particular protocol to be observed with the Prince?" "As outsiders, you would not be expected to know most of the idiosyncrasies of our culture. This is fortunate, because we have an exceptionally involved etiquette, determined by class, and in some cases, type of being. You could never learn it well enough to pass for a native. That's why we have said that you are travellers to our land, so that people won't be surprised by what you don't know. As far as what you need to know for tonight - stand when he stands, sit when he sits. You may address him either as Your Highness or simply as Andalor. I think you may be pleasantly surprised. He will not be what you expect. Are you ready?" Mulder and Scully exchanged glances and followed Reinald across the room to where the table had been set. Because of her nephews and nieces, Scully was as accustomed to children as any non-parent could be. Mulder, if asked, would give the traditional bachelor's answer and say he was uncomfortable with children. However, Scully had seen him with kids on several of their cases, and actually he had a rapport with them that astonished her, an ability to get onto their level and have them open up to him that she envied. Reinald led them over to the hearth. "Andalor, these are the travellers I was telling you about. Come and meet them." From behind the high back of an intricately carved chair peeked the Prince. He scrambled off the chair and walked over to join Reinald. The affection between the two was clear. Reinald stroked the child's head and Andalor looked adoringly up at the Mage. "Mulder and Scully, this is Prince Andalor." The child observed them the way children can, with a penetrating gaze that can make the most confident adult uncomfortable. Two travellers, one with the mage's blue aura, and one with Healer and Warrior colors. The Prince looked up at Reinald with the poise and restraint of a much older and more sophisticated person. Young as he was, the meaning of these travellers, of their auras, was not lost on him. "Your Highness, thank you for the hospitality of the Realm," said Scully. "It is a pleasure to meet you." The child was beautiful, she thought. Smaller than she had expected for an eight year old, he had straight thick blond hair which framed his oval face. His eyes were captivating - large, and of a startling violet shade, and hinting at a wisdom far in advance of his years.. Reinald looked at the child, then nodded, and finally gave him a gentle nudge. Andalor looked at them, stood up very straight, and rattled off a little speech he had clearly been instructed to memorize for the occasion. "Welcome to the Realm. Its people are your friends, its fruits are yours to share. Come in peace, stay in peace, depart in peace." In typical childish fashion with such memorized pieces, Andalor rushed throught the words on one breath and with as little inflection as possible. Mulder smiled. "I'll bet it was hard learning that." The child looked up with a slightly mischievous expression. "Not really. I can remember everything. Reinald says it's a great gift." Mulder squatted down to be closer to the child's height. "Want to know a secret? I can remember everything too. Reinald's right, it is a great gift." "Really? You really can?" the boy squealed. "I thought I was the only one. Are you sure? Let me test you!" "Andalor, do not be rude," chided Reinald. The child calmed down immediately at the words of the Regent, but looked very disappointed. "Not at all, I don't mind. What kind of a test, Andalor?" Mulder was rewarded by seeing the child light up and look up at Reinald, who sighed and nodded. "Good!" exulted the Prince, who took Mulder by the hand to lead him over to a tall bookcase teeming with volumes. "I can see why you're so proud of him," Scully said to Reinald. The two were observing the antics of Mulder and Andalor, who were on the floor, heads together, pouring over some books and chattering excitedly. "As am I, as am I," huffed a pudgy little man hustling up to join them. He shot the Mage a dark look. "I'm sure it was merely an oversight that Reinald failed to introduce me. I am Drellor, brother to the late King and uncle to Andalor. Yes, I think I've done a fine job with the boy, molding him for the great responsibilities he will have to shoulder. How wonderful it is to have such a lovely guest, oh my, yes." He caught Scully's hand and bent to kiss it. She snatched it back as quickly as she could without appearing rude. The man's a reptile, thought Scully. He should be hanging around singles bars, asking women their astrological signs. The bad blood between Reinald and Drellor was quite obvious. Table talk could get lively, she thought, almost looking forward to it. Responding to a subtle signal from Grejor, Reinald called everyone to the table. Both Mulder and Scully realized they were famished, having had nothing substantial since breakfast. The meal was simple but delicious - a kind of stew, spicy and aromatic, served with crusty hot bread. Mulder and the Prince sat side by side across from Scully and were deep in conversation throughout the meal. Scully's appetite was dampened somewhat by being seated next to Drellor, but Reinald deftly put him in his place several times during the meal, which helped. At least when he was sputtering about being "in too high a position to have to listen to Reinald's insults," his fat little hands weren't rubbing against her knee. She comforted herself with daydreams of what she'd be able to do to the little toad after a few more lessons from Aldara. After fruit and cheese were served, the meal came to an end. The Prince was yawning openly, Drellor was sulking, and both Mulder and Scully wanted nothing more than to return to their chamber as the events of the day started to catch up with them. They said their thanks and goodbyes and, refusing the offer of someone to show them the way, headed back to their room. Mulder took Scully's arm and tucked it under his, sandwiching her hand between his own. They strolled the hallway slowly, taking their time, paying more attention to the decoration and design of the castle. "You and the Prince seemed to hit it off," observed Scully. "Yeah, surprisingly, he's a good kid. I've always thought that royal kids would behave like the offspring of Satan and have an attitude to boot, but he's really a very nice little boy. Very intelligent, almost frighteningly so. And he does have an eidetic memory. His parents died some time ago. Evidently, Uncle Drellor thought he was a shoe-in for the Regent's job until the late King's will named Reinald. The kid can't stand his uncle, by the way." "The kid's got good taste. His uncle is a worm. Very full of himself, ready to take credit for everything that turns out well. If he pawed me one more time, I was going to -" "He was putting a move on you, Scully? I knew I detested him on sight for some reason. Don't worry. I'll change him into a frog or something - as soon as I learn how. Here we are. And you thought I had a bad sense of direction. Oh, ye of little faith." Mulder pushed the door open. Evidently, Lita had already been in to prepare the room. The opaque bedcurtains had been loosed from their ties, creating a private cocoon in the midst of the large room, and the bedcovers had been opened in readiness. With only two torches still lit and the fire dying down, the chamber was cloaked in a comfortable dusk. Again, tea had been prepared on a tray by the fire. "Tea, Scully?" 'Mmmm, please. This could get to be a very nice habit - sitting and talking and having tea before bed, Very civilized." She sat in one of the chairs and gratefully accepted the mug from Mulder. "The nighttime tea is different from the daytime tea." "Yeah, this one probably has soporific properties, like the daytime tea has energizing ones. Somehow, I don't think I'm going to have any problems with insomnia tonight. I had a few minutes with Reinald while you were saying goodnight to Andalor. I'll be spending the morning with him and then joining your friend Aldara. Apparently, Reinald thinks it would be a good idea for me not to be completely dependent on my magic to save my life, which may not show much confidence in my magic, but it's nice he thinks my life is worth preserving. Anyway, I'll be doing a couple of hours every afternoon with Aldara, playing Errol Flynn." Scully smiled knowingly. "I must say, I'm looking forward to watching you." He chuckled. "I'm sure. Unfortunately, you won't get the chance. When I show up, you're supposed to go find Corvay the Healer, and get updated on the latest in herbal and psychic healing." Scully looked dismayed. "Mulder, I don't believe in psychic healing! How can I learn something I don't even believe in?" He smiled. "It's what I keep saying - open yourself up to extreme possibilities, Scully." He smile faded. "After all, it saved your life yesterday from the soul-eaters' toxin. Anything that saves your life is an extreme possibility worth believing in." She stretched and groaned. "Well right now I'd like to be able to psychicly heal my aching body. I knew I had had a workout, but God, I'm really feeling it now." He walked over to her chair and gave her a hand up. In a low voice he said, "Maybe I can do something about that. Go get ready for bed." She looked at him quizzically, but his expression gave nothing away. She walked to the armoire, plucked out a pale blue silky thing, and went into the bathroom. Mulder gathered the used tea things on the tray, then extinguished the two torches. By the low light from the dying fire, he stripped out of his clothes and left them folded neatly over a chair. Naked, he padded over to the armoire and chose some soft dark blue shorts and slipped them on. When Scully came out of the bathroom, he entered to take his turn. Before the door closed, he stuck his head out of the opening. "Oh, and Scully? Take that blue thing off." Her head snapped around to look at him. Her eyes were huge. "What?" she said, in a hoarse whisper. He smiled. "Relax. You're just going to get the best massage of your life. Get into bed. I'll be out in a minute." He closed the door. When he emerged, Scully was in bed, covers up to her neck. The blue nightshirt lay on the bedcover near the bottom of the bed. Moving the silky hangings out of the way, he boosted himself up onto his side of the bed. "Roll over." Somewhat apprehensively she complied, turning over onto her stomach. He crawled over to her on hands and knees, straddled her upper thighs, and gently lowered himself. "Okay?" Silently, she nodded, then felt him pulling the warmth and safety of the bedclothes away, down past her shoulders, past her waist, just to the point she would have asked him to stop, had he not stopped of his own accord. She felt him lean over her, his special aroma registering in her senses, his breath on her back. He placed his warm hands on her neck, his thumbs running up the back of her neck in tiny circles to unknot the muscles at the base of her skull. When her neck muscles had relaxed, he started in first on her left shoulder, carefully avoiding the injured skin, then the right. Scully moaned a little, and he stopped. "Did I hurt you?" "Unh-uh." She shook her head a little. "Feels wonderful." His long fingers first kneaded the muscles of her shoulders and upper arms gently, then progressively more deeply until the knots had been completely smoothed out. He made his way down each arm, even massaging the tiny muscles of her hands and fingers, until they lay limp on the mattress. He then turned his attention to her back, his hands sweeping up in long, firm strokes. "Sorry, Scully," he murmured. "This would be a lot better with lotion or oil." Her words were muffled. "Mulder, if it were any better, I couldn't stand it." He smiled, then probed the muscles around her shoulder blades with his strong fingers for several minutes, working out all the kinks, and smoothed the skin with gentle strokes from his palms before going on to the middle of her back and repeating the the same magic there. Finally, he placed his hands low on the small of her back on either side of her spine, and using firm pressure made small circles with the heels of his hands over the tight muscles there. Scully gasped softly. Mulder hesitated for a second and took a breath, then continued. His voice was soft and shook slightly. "Any more of that, Dana, and I'm going to have to stop." He let his hands venture under the covers, and sensing no protest, extended the deep massage to her tailbone and hips for several minutes. Then he again smoothed the skin of her lower back with soft strokes from his palms before rolling up the covers to her shoulders. "Scully?" he whispered. "Dana?" Her breathing was deep and regular. He leaned over her to try to catch a glimpse of her face, but couldn't. Gently, he swept a lock of her hair back from the side of her neck and replaced it with his lips for the space of five heartbeats. Then he rolled from her, moved the bedcurtains and slid off the bed. Finding a blanket of sorts in the armoire, he walked to the hearth, moved the armchairs to face one another, and stretched out. Magician or not, there was no way he could stay in that bed with her right now. Eyes wide open, Scully drew in a tremulous breath. End Chapter Four ==================================================== Chapter Five - Part 1 "Good. Good, you're improving." Aldara stopped to wipe the perspiration from her face with the back of her arm. "How about a break?" Scully collapsed gratefully where she stood near the hay bales, and leaned back into them for support. She and Aldara had been drilling for what must have been hours now. The removal of the language barrier had been a huge relief. It had been nice to make small talk with Lita at breakfast this morning, and to be able to ask directions for getting around. Aldara had lost no time in taking advantage of being able to communicate and had worked Scully very hard. Physically, she was bone-tired, but she was starting to come to terms about being here and with her role in the Realm. Already, she felt herself becoming stronger, and exulted in it. Only when she thought of home and what her disappearance would do to her mother - again - did Scully have misgivings, so she tried to focus as much as possible on her job here. Aldara appeared, carrying the ubiquitous tea. She handed Scully one mug and sat down in the dust near her. Searching in her pocket, she brought out two small pieces of fruit, and tossed one to Scully, who caught it and smiled her thanks. "It's nice to finally be able to talk," Scully began. "How did you come to be a warrior? Seems like an odd occupation in such a peaceful place." "It isn't always peaceful, it just seems that way. Besides, there's the Prophecy - the time is coming, maybe soon." Her jaw tightened, then she repeated, "So, how did I come to be a warrior?" Aldara laughed, but it was laughter tinged with bitterness. "Probably because I was always fighting as a kid. I'm half human and half elf." She drew her hair back to show Scully her pointed ears. "Such mixtures aren't unknown, but they are unusual. The beings usually stick to their own kind. That was part of the problem, but not the biggest part. The real problem was that elves are very sensitive to magic and auras, and my father was particularly sensitive, even for an elf. He had abilities that, if they had been developed further, might have made him a very powerful magician. "Of course once my mother and he got together, that was out of the question. All my brothers and sisters seemed to inherit his physical characteristics and magic abilities - everyone except me. I grew to be even taller than my human mother, and was totally blind to the metaphysical, compared to the special sight that my brothers and sisters had. And which they never failed to use to their advantage whenever we played games or did chores. I just never felt I belonged, especially after my mother died in my sixth summer. I don't really blame my father, but he had more in common with the other kids, and spent more time and energy on them. Nothing I did seemed to please him. So I was always angry." Again, she laughed bitterly. "Quick anger is one of the few elven characteristics I did inherit from him. Anyway, it became clear that I needed either a way to get rid of the anger or to use it, and using it was easier. So I left home in my sixteenth harvest. I lived in the forest by my wits for a while, getting stronger, learning of the world. When I journeyed here to Fairwoods Keep, I offered my services and to my surprise, they accepted my offer." As Aldara talked, Scully couldn't help but make comparisons. She, too, had always tried to please her father, coming to the realization only after he was gone that he had been proud of her all along. And Mulder - his nightmare childhood didn't bear thinking about. Funny, she thought, how these experiences affect us. They either make us what we are, or we become what we are in spite of them. "Is the weather always changeable? That thunderstorm yesterday came out of nowhere." Scully still couldn't quite bring herelf to believe Mulder had caused it. Aldara looked puzzled for a minute, then her face cleared. "Oh, you mean the Mage-storm." "Mage-storm...I don't know what that is," said Scully, frowning. Aldara looked at her strangely, wondering where this traveller was from that she didn't know about Mage-storms. "There's thunderstorms, and then there's Mage-storms. Mage- storms happen when a magician becomes furious," Aldara explained. "They're different, more concentrated, more violent. They can even be directed at someone. Just one of the countless ways that magicians can use their power to frighten and intimidate," she finished coldly. "I take it you don't like magicians much." Aldara shrugged. "Not much, no." "My partner is a magician, you know. At least Reinald thinks he is." "I know. I heard." She was unenthusiastic. "Reinald's not bad, for a Mage." "I think you'll find that Mulder is quite a bit different from what you're expecting," Scully said. Aldara gave her an enigmatic look and stood up. "Take the guard off your sword. You've learned enough to protect yourself. Let's see what you can do." Scully removed the guard, grasped the hilt with both hands, and assumed the correct stance. With a throaty yell, she swung it first over her head and then toward Aldara, who fended off the blow easily, and launched one of her own. Scully blocked it inelegantly but effectively. Mulder stood in the shelter of a stack of wooden crates and observed the amazing scene before him. The clash of metal on metal rang in his ears as he watched the two figures whirl and thrust and parry, swinging the swords, much longer than their wielders were tall, with apparent ease. Suddenly Aldara's weapon sliced through the air with incredible speed. A thin line of red showed through the long cut in the left sleeve of Scully's tunic. He caught his breath and just managed to bite back a cry of concern. But if anything, the wound only spurred Scully on to greater ferocity. Mulder, his heart still beating in his throat, was speechless. Would his partner never cease to amaze him? He could understand now why his overprotectiveness might seem like an insult. He moved from behind the shelter of the crates and approached the two women. Scully lifted her sword and struck down at Aldara so hard that the warrior grunted, and a look of surprised approval came over her face. A couple of deft moves later, however, Scully's weapon was flying out of her hands, coming to lodge in the ground at Mulder's feet, and Aldara's sword was at her throat. The two women looked at each other and tried to catch their breath. "Excellent, very promising," panted Aldara, smiling and nodding. Scully merely grinned in response, not having enough breath to speak yet. But the praise from her exacting teacher elated her. She walked over toward Mulder, and used two hands to pull the weapon from the ground. She smiled up at him. "Hey, Mulder. You ready?" She refastened the guard to her sword, and passed the weapon to Aldara. "From what I've seen, no, I'm not even close to being ready. Are you a quick learner, Scully, or have you been hiding some of your talents from me? Skinner should see you now." She flashed a grin at him, then turned to Aldara and said, "This is Mulder. He can be a real pain in the ass, so don't let him give you any trouble." Turning back to Mulder, she did not see the warrior's look of anxiety. "Good luck, Mulder. You'll need it. Although I tired her out a little for you. You have no idea how much I'd like to stay for your lesson," she smiled impudently. Aldara's concern for her new friend grew. Didn't Scully realize that one just did not speak to a Mage like this? "Have a nice class with Corvay," he teased. In a very low voice, he said, "Maybe he can take a look at that arm. You ladies don't play nice, do you?" His half-smile did not entirely reach his eyes, which showed only his concern. "I'm okay, Mulder." She turned and started walking back toward the castle, then called over her shoulder, "Just be careful - she doesn't like magicians much." Inwardly, he groaned. Oh, great. He walked over to Aldara and smiled. "Hi. I'm Mulder. I'd shake hands with you, but I've been told that has dire consequences." Her unfriendly stare thawed slightly for a moment, and then once again became glacier cold. "What can you do with a sword, Mage?" "Well, I did a little fencing while I was at Oxford, but I've never used anything the size of those," He said, indicating the long blades. "Besides, that was a long time ago." The language spell had some problems with "Oxford", but Aldara understood the essence of what he said. "Those are women's weapons," she said, just short of making the words an insult. She walked over to the weapons rack and chose a sword at least eight inches longer and five pounds heavier. She attached a leather guard to it and handed it to Mulder, who was as startled as Scully had been at how heavy and cumbersome the weapon was. "Hold it like this. Watch, then do what I do." Quickly she demonstrated the basic moves. All right, Mage, she thought. Let's see what you can do with that. "Now, with me." Again, she quickly went through the sequence of practice moves and was surprised to see Mulder not only keeping up, but performing the actions with a grace and economy of motion that was astounding in a beginner. Aldara frowned a little when they had finished. "Not entirely bad. Again, by yourself this time." Mulder swung the sword, performing the whirls and kicks and slashes that made up the basics of Realm swordsmanship. Based on what Scully had said about Aldara's not liking magicians, he was not expecting effusive praise, although he felt he was doing pretty well. He wondered what she had against Mages. "Adequate. And again." Aldara watched him with an eagle eye for mistakes. For once, it was nice to have the upper hand when dealing with a Mage. She drilled him for over an hour without stopping, and he performed the basic moves repeatedly without comment or complaint. Perversely, the better he performed and the more he persevered, the more sullen Aldara became. So far, he had displayed no weakness, and had demonstrated skills that she had labored years to acquire. It wasn't fair, she thought. It wasn't fair at all. She began to get angry. "Now, Mage, let's see if you can apply what you've learned and put your new skills to some practical use." Aldara brought her sword up to fighting position. Perhaps it was her anger, perhaps it was something deeper. In any case, she did not notice that she had never refastened the leather guard onto her blade. Aldara launched herself at Mulder who acted purely out of instinct at first, throwing his blade up to repel hers, astonished at the force such a tiny figure could exert. Before he could get over the shock of the first attack, she was at him again, coming from the opposite side. Mulder dropped into a forward roll, sprang to his feet and turned to face her, bringing his sword from around his head to crash against hers with tremendous power. His unconventional move had startled her, breaking her concentration, and she had to use all her strength to fend off his blow. Aldara's temper flared as it hadn't done for years. Savagely, she attacked, swinging her sword, cutting the air with lightning speed, slicing through the air again and again. Mulder defended himself as best he could, but was clearly not a match for the seasoned fighter. He grimly maneuvered his blade to meet and stop each of her blows, knowing that he couldn't keep it up forever. Finally, her blade bit into the leather guard on his sword, and caught. Her next move twisted the weapon from his hands and sent it spinning out of his reach. He went down hard on his back, her weapon sharp against his throat. Urgently, he cried "Aldara, don't!" Hearing her name, Aldara slowly came to herself as her white-hot anger receded. She looked down at her opponent on the ground. Horrified, she saw the point of her unguarded sword under his chin, and a steady trickle of blood dripping from the tip of her weapon to collect in a little pool at the hollow of his throat. "Oh gods," she whimpered. The sword fell from her hands as she backed away from Mulder, her horrified eyes never leaving his. He got to his feet a little shakily, wiping the blood from his throat with the back of his hand and breathing deeply to counteract the wave of dizziness that hit him. He bent over with his head down, his hands braced on his knees. "Interesting teaching methods," he gasped. Aldara continued to retreat, shaking her head in terror, tears rolling down her face, until her heel caught in one of the hay bales and she fell heavily against it. Slowly standing upright and finding that the dizziness had passed, Mulder trudged over to her and extended a hand to help her up. "NO!" she screamed, cowering. She threw her arms around her head and curled up in a ball, trembling from head to toe. Mulder stopped. What the hell did HE do? Obviously, his proximity just made things worse, so he backed off a few feet and sat on the ground, catching his breath. His arms hugged his knees, and he rested his head on them, trying to clear his mind. Mentally he went through his magician's checklist, almost a mantra for him now, to make sure he wasn't inadvertently using his powers. Satisfied that his controls were in place and his power grounded, he sat and rested, hearing Aldara's hysterical sobbing slow and quieten, waiting until she was rational enough to talk. Shakily, angrily, Aldara wiped her face. What was he up to now? Maybe he was plotting. Maybe he would report her negligence to Jourdain, and she would be banished from the only real home she had ever known. Or worse, he would tell Reinald. And then together they would think of a spell so awful - "Aldara, are you all right?" Mulder asked gently. He was on his feet again and walking slowly toward her. "Did I do something wrong, something to upset you?" He sat on a bale a few feet away from her, anxiously scanning her face for any kind of a clue as to what was wrong. Her eyes narrowed. What was this? He actually seemed concerned about her. He definitely wasn't angry - even with her extremely limited sensitivity, she would be able to discern the aura of an infuriated Mage. His aura shimmered a brilliant calm blue, like a lake on a windless summer day. "It was inexcusable," she whispered. "You could have been killed." Mulder nodded. "Did you think I was going to hurt you?" "I was angry, and I wanted to teach you a lesson, and I didn't notice the guard was missing. Then I .... Mages have killed people for far less reason. When you tell Reinald, it may still be so." The terror came back into Aldara's eyes. She watched him closely. Mulder nodded again and considered. He couldn't believe that Reinald would ever deliberately hurt anyone, but her terror was obviously very real. "Okay. Then suppose we keep this our little secret." Anything, to remove the fear from those amazing green eyes. Aldara knew she should be silent and thankful that she had emerged from this incident with her life and limbs intact. But she just couldn't help herself. "Why are you doing this?" "Because it was a mistake and you didn't do it deliberately. Because I don't think it will ever happen again. Because you're Scully's friend. Because you're a damned good teacher, and what you teach us could save our lives someday. Because I don't work that way, I don't do that kind of thing." He shrugged. "Lots of reasons." She sat up, starting to relax a little. "You don't sound much like a Mage. Scully said you were different." He chuckled. "Scully was right. So - better now?" "Your throat - it's still bleeding a little. I-I'm sorry, I really am." He wiped at the blood on his throat again, looked at her and smiled. "I know you are. Don't worry about it, I've done worse myself, shaving." He hesitated for a second. "Do me a favor, though. That's a pretty awe-inspiring temper you have, and it makes me nervous. Don't ever get mad at Scully, okay? In fact, don't get mad at me again, either. If you're annoyed with me, tell me, alright? It's all right, Scully gets annoyed with me all the time." She finally smiled a little, then. Mulder stood and carefully extended his hand. She just as carefully grasped it, as he helped her up. "Same time tomorrow?" Mutely, she nodded. "Okay. Goodbye, Aldara. Thanks for the lesson." Her eyes followed him as he strolled back toward the castle, stopping to look at things which caught his interest on the way. Scully was right. He WAS different. ------------------- =============================================== Chapter Five - Part Two Scully pushed at the huge wooden door which swung outward onto a pleasant, sunny garden. At the far end of the garden was her destination, a small stone structure - the chamber and workroom of Corvay the Healer. She made her way along the path that wound through the plant beds, noting the confusion of scents eminating from them. The door of the little stone building was wide open and she poked her head inside. "Corvay?" A muffled, distant-sounding voice called, "Enter." Scully walked tentatively into the large but cluttered room, looking around for the owner of the voice. The room was long and narrow, with low ceilings, so low that in some places even Scully's head brushed the rough-hewn dark wood beams. Several cauldrons bubbled purposefully on the huge hearth, sending up clouds of steam. On every surface there were mortars and pots and jars holding creams and powders and elixirs. It looked chaotic, but she expected it was the same kind of chaos as in Mulder's office, where its occupant knew exactly where to lay his hands on everything. "Corvay?" Scully called again. A tiny figure emerged seemingly out of the very floor itself, until Scully noticed the open bulkhead doors which evidently led to some kind of a root cellar. "Sorry, my dear. Just gathering ingredients." He put a burlap sack on the nearest empty place he could find and bustled over to her. "Perhaps we can have some tea and you can tell me all about yourself, hmmm?" Corvay found a couple of low stools under a table and dragged them out, gesturing at Scully to sit. He handed her a mug, then poured one for himself and sat. She inhaled the fruit- scented steam and sipped at the scalding liquid. "Now, I know you are a healer, I can see it in your aura. What training have you had?" The elderly elf smiled expectantly. "I come from...very far away, and our cultures are very different. The healers where I come from have many machines and many, many helpers and other things you don't have. We may have some of the same herbal treatments - I think I noticed foxglove and nightshade in your garden. But for the most part, our healers have different methods. There is no psychic aspect to our healing." "No psychic aspect!" The little healer was plainly shocked. "How does anyone ever get better? How can you repair the whole person - his mind and soul, as well as his body - if that aspect is neglected? How can you remove the cornerstone and not have everything collapse? Gods, how can you even be sure what is wrong, if you don't use your mental energy?" Scully shrugged, feeling she had to defend her world and her profession. "We have developed complex instrumentation to help us diagnose the causes of injury and illness. Most of the time, it works fairly well. In any case, it is the only form of healing we know." "What a strange place you come from," said Corvay, shaking his head. "Healers that don't heal and magicians who never cast a single spell. It would appear then that we have a lot to cover. Thank the gods that your natural psi ability is so high." "Psi ability? I'm sorry, but you must be mistaken," Scully said, politely but firmly. "Oh no, no mistake, my dear. You have quite exceptional ability, it's quite clear. I can sense it from quite a distance. I can tell it's untrained - your projections are not very focused - but it is certainly there. Very well, let's begin, shall we?" He bustled over to the table, his long brown tunic dragging on the wooden floor. "Now, let's start with the herbals we have in common, and we'll go from there." For the next half hour or so, Scully wracked her brain for what she remembered of her botany and pharmacology classes. Using quill pen and parchment supplied by the healer, she took careful notes, especially when the lesson proceeded into areas not covered in Med school, such as troll toxicology and the allergies common in gargoyles. She was in the middle of such a note when she felt a sudden sense of disorientation. One instant she was sitting with Corvay, the next she was facing Aldara, who, with teeth bared in a ferocious grimace, was taking him/her to the ground with the point of her sword at his/her throat. "Aldara, don't!" Corvay's head snapped up and he looked over to see a very white and shaken Scully. "Sit down before you fall down, Scully, my dear." The healer took her arm and helped her to a stool. "Now, what's the problem?" "I'm okay - it was just for a minute - " " - you were somewhere else, " he continued for her, very matter of factly. "With Mulder, I assume. Everything all right now?" "I - yeah, I think so, I think it is now." Scully took a couple of deep breaths and rubbed her throat thoughtfully. "Quite a demonstration for someone with no psi ability, wouldn't you say?" teased Corvay. Scully gave him a long look, then dropped her head into her hands and didn't answer him. What the hell was going on? She was really starting to doubt her sanity now. "This really is all very new to you, isn't it?' asked the healer, wonderingly. Becoming more distressed by the second, Scully nodded. "It never happened before we came here, and now it keeps happening - all of a sudden I'll be Mulder, or sometimes he'll be me - and it scares the hell out of me! If that's what psi ability does for me, I don't want it!" she shouted. Scully felt like the floodgates were opening - all the misgivings and fears and threats to her beliefs were rushing out in a torrent. She was near tears. "It just happens, there's no controlling it. I know it's Mulder that's in there, and I know we're - we're close. And while there's no one else I'd rather have in my brain, it's MY brain - I really don't want ANYONE randomly popping into it. And when I'm in his head, I feel like I'm invading HIS privacy." She was weeping openly now, her tone down to a hoarse whisper. "I shared a nightmare with him the other night, something from his past, something that really happened. I saw so much he hadn't told me, hadn't told anyone because he didn't WANT anyone to know - the terror, the pain, the guilt. Now I know, and he knows that I know. How's that supposed to make him feel? What's that going to do to us, what will that kind of stress do to our relationship? And what if someone other than Mulder gets in there? At least I trust Mulder." She wept, brokenly. "What am I talking about? None of this can be happening. I really don't think I can take too much more of this." The healer took her small hands in his even smaller ones, and probed gently into her mind, mentally soothing, calming and comforting. "First, I believe if you really think about it, you will find it did happen before you came here, but you weren't attuned to it. Or more precisely, you didn't WANT to be attuned to it, so you tried to block it out. It won't work, you know - you still have the gift, no matter how much you may try to ignore it." He released her hands, and smiled. "And you really don't have to worry about anyone else being in your brain other than Mulder. Healers may enter, but we have a very strict ethical code about that kind of thing. These empathic links between you and Mulder - it's not just your psi ability, there's something else at work here, too, something specific to the two of you. There's no need to fear for your relationship, as in time you will come to understand. But I can help you learn to control these experiences." Scully was calmer now, and unaware that the healer had helped to instill that state, so gentle was his touch. "How can I control what I'm not sure even exists? You don't understand - this sort of thing goes against everything I've always believed in." "You don't believe in psychic healing, either?" asked the little elf. "Thoughts don't heal people," Scully said firmly. "Thoughts are just - thoughts." "Well, there's thoughts and there's psychic energy and the two are not necessarily the same, but we won't argue over semantics. Someone who demands proof! Very well, let us construct a little experiment, shall we? What happened to your arm?" Scully glanced down. "Oh. Just got a little too close to Aldara's sword. It's nothing, it will heal in a few days." "What if I were to tell you that we - you - will heal it today, right now?" "I'd say that you were crazy," Scully said flatly. The healer laughed. "Very well, we'll see. Will you try this?" "Experimentation is at the very heart of the scientific method. I have no objection to an experiment," agreed Scully. "Good. Get comfortable, and close your eyes. Just listen to me and do as I ask you to do. Are you comfortable?" "Yes. Look - you're not going to hypnotize me, are you? I really don't want that." "If you mean inducing a trance state, no, it's not like that, exactly. I'm just the instruction manual, if you will. I'm just going to tell you what to do, and if you agree, you're going to do it. In no way will you have to reveal yourself, or will you be under my power or anything like that. Now, are you agreed? Ready to proceed?" "What if I change my mind after we've started?" Scully was clearly nervous. "That's all right, you can do that. I don't think you're going to want to, but you may do that if you wish, " Corvay said patiently. Scully took a deep breath. "All right, I'm ready." "Splendid. Try to relax. Place your right hand on your left arm. All right, clear your mind of everything except your arm, the wound in your arm. Picture it. Picture what is going on in your body right now, under your skin, in your veins - the elements of the healing process that are working to close the wound. Visualize them, travelling to the wound. Can you see them, Scully?" Slowly, Scully nodded. As she listened to Corvay's soothing voice, she felt herself beginning to relax. And with the sense of calm, came an odd, yet somehow familiar, sense of inner awareness. "Watch them," Corvay urged gently. "They are moving much too slowly. They need to move faster. Picture them moving more quickly. Make them move faster, will them to move more quickly. Let some of your energy flow from your hand to help them move more quickly. Can your hand feel them, can you see them moving faster?" Again, Scully nodded. She COULD see them, the white cells racing to the site to prevent infection, the skin cells regenerating, faster and faster at her will. She directed them, first here, now there, always more quickly. Finally, from what sounded like a very long way away, she heard "You can let them move more slowly now, you can let them return to rest." "Scully, open your eyes." She dragged herself back from wherever she had been and looked at the healer, dazed and tired. He was smiling at her. "Look at your arm and tell me I'm crazy." She looked down at her arm. The deep abrasion was gone without a trace. "I did that?" she said, shaken. Corvay nodded. "You did it entirely yourself - all I did was to help you center your thoughts, your energy. The healing you did on your own. Now, this was very simple test, it's usually much more involved, but I think we can call the experiment a success, wouldn't you agree?" "Yes," said Scully absently. "Yes, I guess so." She looked disturbed, more now than she had earlier. "What is it, my dear?" asked Corvay, surprised. He had expected her to be pleased that she had successfully healed the scratch, especially at her first attempt. Her reaction puzzled him. She looked at him, the confusion and pain, almost panic, evident in her eyes. "I need to think about this. Will you please excuse me?" He stood back and watched her trip blindly through the door and out into the garden. - - - - - After his taxing morning with Reinald followed by his workout with Aldara, Mulder had returned to their bedchamber exhausted. Intending to do nothing but sit and relax by the fire, he had felt himself sliding further and further into a state of torpor, finally succumbing entirely. Suddenly he awoke, with a disturbing picture in his mind. But what he saw made no sense. In his mind was an image of a building, a fine tall modernistic skyscraper. Suddenly, the foundation began cracking, mortar and stone crumbling to dust before his eyes. The cracks spread further, higher up, to weaken all the upper stories of the building. More stone and brick started falling from the building, until with an ungodly roar, the whole structure started to collapse in a cloud of dust. And somehow, all of this had a connection with Scully. He tried to quell the rising anxiety he felt. It couldn't be really happening, there were no skyscrapers in this world. A representation, then? A psychic analogy? But for what? He made a conscious effort to relax and make his mind receptive. Gradually, his surroundings changed. They were vague shadows at first, but the images soon became sharper and more defined. He was in a low, crowded room, a room that smelled oddly, with lots of jars and things around. Scully! He saw Scully, and she was with Corvay, and she was upset, near tears. Then, like a door had opened, he heard them speaking, Corvay pleased with the success of some experiment, Scully shaken to her core. A healing experiment, Scully had tried psychic healing and had succeeded. But rather than feeling happy about it, she was confused, lost. All her long held-beliefs were crumbling, and she was too frightened to believe in anything else. Mulder felt her turbulent emotions, her incredible pain, the sense of betrayal, of fear, of being alone. Standing, he saw her stumbling down long stone corridors in emotional agony. He had to get to her. Now. - - - - - Almost in a daze, Scully followed the hallways, taking notice of nothing, her feet moving automatically, stumbling a little over uneven areas in the stone floors. Corridors that don't exist, thought Scully. They CAN'T exist. Because if they exist, then everything else does as well. And the magic and the psychic healing and the gargoyles and elves and trolls - none of those can exist, they can't be real. Only science...only science - Scully's vision was blinded by the hot tears welling up in her eyes. Science didn't explain any of this. Therefore, it couldn't be happening, right? She was insane, or have been slipped some hallucinogenic drug or something. Not much comfort there. Or was science betraying her? Maybe all this existed and science wasn't real, and she had been believing in a lie, living a lie her whole life. Scully's pace quickened, as if she could flee the torment of her thoughts. Oblivious to everything else, she rounded a corner and crashed into some young guards wearing the colors of one of the noble houses. She backed up without really seeing them, mumbled a vague apology, and moved to go around them. "Not so fast, woman," said the tallest one as he roughly grabbed her left wrist. "We are of the House of Dordinal, and you will give us the respect we deserve." His friends muttered encouragement. There were four of them in all, young humans spoiling for trouble. "Look, I'm sorry, it was an accident." Scully's voice had an edge to it, born of the emotional turmoil she had experienced that afternoon. The last thing she needed was a gang of bullies - drunk, by the smell of them - to have to deal with. She attempted to break free of his grasp, but he tightened it, throwing her painfully against the stone wall of the hallway and pinning her there with the weight of his body. He leered down at her. "I don't think you're sorry, you don't sound sorry at all. Whose servant are you, that they let you go about in ripped and dirty clothing and insulting the cream of the House of Dordinal?" The hand not grasping her wrist slid down her face, her neck and continued touching and grabbing at her the length of her body. His friends looked on avidly, calling their support. A little belatedly, Scully's mind turned from the problem of her crumbling belief system and applied itself to the more urgent problem at hand. Coldly, clearly, she said, "I'm only going to say this once. Let go of me and back off now." Her words were greeted with hoots of derision by the his friends, and with furor by the guard holding her. His free hand now went to her throat, squeezing, and he practically spat out, "You will live or die by my pleasure, bitch, and you'll wish you were dead before I'm through." Suddenly, Scully felt an icy anger overwhelm her. Her right hand flashed out to her captor's belt and ripped his dagger from its sheath. She pressed it to his throat. Looking directly into his drunken face and never raising her voice, she said, "I said, let go of me and back...off...now." The other guards were confused for a few seconds, then began to move toward her. Smiling, she pressed on the knife tip, drawing blood, and the guard's eyes grew wide. "Get back! She's a lunatic! She's going to kill me!" The others stopped and began to back away. Suddenly, Scully felt Mulder with her in her mind, frantically trying to find her in the maze of hallways. Mentally she reassured him, and maintained the contact, letting it act as a beacon to draw him to her. "Now," she snarled, never removing the pressure of the dagger tip, "Let's get something straight. I am a guest of the Mage Reinald, and I have travelled here with another Mage. Don't EVER touch me again. Don't ever lay your hands on ANY woman as you have touched me. One word from me will have two Mages deciding your fate, and your puny imaginations can't even begin to think of the horror they will cast for you. Is that clear?" Most of the young guards backed away at the mention of Reinald's name. The bully who had threatened her was mad with terror. But one of his friends looked at her and sneered to the others, "She's lying, look at her. She doesn't know any Mage. We can take her!" Coolly, a voice said, "I wouldn't try - I've seen her in action, and frankly, I don't think you stand a chance. In fact, I don't think you boys are responsible enough to be around sharp objects right now." He was still for a few a seconds, then suddenly, their swords flew from their sheaths to hang in midair next to Mulder, who leaned against a wall, shield deliberately tuned down to let his mage aura flare, arms crossed negligently in front of him. Four pairs of eyes stared, then four sets of legs pounded away from them down the hallway, stumbling in their panic. Mulder walked over to Scully. "Tough day?" - - - - - They walked mutely back to their chamber, where Lita had laid the table for a meal neither of them really wanted. They ate a little, out of a sense of duty to Lita and to their stomachs, but sighed with relief when she cleared away the supper things, readied the room for the night, and departed. They moved to the armchairs and sat staring into the fire, lost in their own thoughts, occasionally wondering who would be the first to break the long silence that stretched out between them. "Mulder, I owe you an apology." He looked over at her, startled. Of all the things she could have said, this was the least expected. "What makes you think that, Scully?" he asked softly. She continued to look into the fire. "Because during our entire association, I've been denying what you've shown me, denying what my own eyes have seen. Denying everything because I couldn't explain it using scientific law. I don't know anything anymore, Mulder." She turned to look at him, the pain of her admission reflected in her eyes. "In the last two days, we've seen and experienced things that make anything we've seen before pale in comparison. And I can't explain any of it. I don't know what to believe anymore, what to put my trust in. But I know it's not science." He looked at her with limitless sympathy. "I can't tell you what to believe, Scully. I wish I could. But you have to decide that for yourself. Science explains some things very well. Maybe we don't know enough about science. Maybe we just have to expand its definition a bit; or consider magic the local equivalent of science. It certainly follows a distinct set of rules - or laws - which are determined by experimentation. Goodness knows I've spent enough time memorizing them." He shrugged. "As for why things work one way in our world and another way here, I don't know. Perhaps certain things just ARE. Maybe you should just accept that and move on from there." She sat and thought for some time about what he said, and once again there was silence between them. She sighed. "I had another one today - a vision. What happened between you and Aldara?" "She got angry with me and got a little carried away. You know how I can have that effect on people," he smiled. "Don't worry, it's all straightened out now, everything's fine. I had one too - when you were upset after you did some psychic healing. Congratulations, by the way." Scully nodded. "Yeah. Well." She shifted in the chair. "I - ummm - spoke to Corvay about the visions. He seems to think they're a function of my psi abilities and something particular about the two of us that he was very coy about. In any case, he wasn't surprised that we were having them. Mulder, how do you really feel about the visions?" He didn't insult her by giving her an easy, quick answer that he thought she'd find palatable. He considered the question for a long time and answered her honestly. "There are aspects of it I could do without, " he admitted. "Don't get me wrong, Scully, if anyone has to be in my head, I'd want it to be you," he said hastily. "But there's things in there I hate looking at, myself. I hate even more the idea of their being inflicted on you." Scully smiled a little. "That's almost exactly what I said to Corvay. It's not so much that what's in there is shocking or disillusioning or whatever. We know each other pretty well - strengths, weaknesses, bad habits, sex lives or lack of them. That stuff is minor. It's more the sense of trespass that bothers me. Does that make any sense?" "Perfect sense," he agreed, nodding. "But Scully, I have to tell you. Mostly I don't mind it, in fact I really kind of like it. Today, for the first time, I consciously used this empathic link we seem to share. I was concerned about you and I just reached out and I saw you. It was amazing." His voice was soft with awe and wonder. "Then I came looking for you and I felt like," - he looked at her for confirmation - "like you were reaching out to me. And it made me feel better. And it led me right to you." She nodded. "Yeah, I thought I might need your help with those guards. It was interesting, using the link that way, consciously I mean. Also somewhat ironic, as I was well on the way to convincing myself that it didn't exist." Thoughtfully, she said, "Corvay said we could learn to control it. Presumably he meant to preserve some privacy, or make it a voluntary rather than an involuntary link." Scully sighed. "I guess I feel pretty much as you do. I can certainly see where it would come in handy, as it did today. I can also see where unless we learn to control it, that it could be a terrible invasion, too." She was quiet for a while, her head back against the chair cushion and her eyes closed. "I'm so tired," she said simply. "We'll deal with this better in the morning after some rest. We can both go see Corvay, see what we can do about controlling this. You go ahead and take the bathroom first." Mulder performed what he was beginning to think of as his nighttime duties - checking on the fire, clearing up, extinguishing the torches. He undressed and chose some shorts from the armoire and pulled them on. On his way to the bathroom, he gave Scully a boost into bed. A few minutes later he came out, extinguished the last torch, and got into bed. For a long time they lay with a wide expanse of bed - their no man's land - between them. Consumed and exhausted by their thoughts, they willed their bodies and minds to relax, for sleep to come. Out of nowhere, Mulder thought he heard a tiny voice, so faint as to be almost inaudible, as if it were coming from a locked vault. Lost and alone, the tiny voice pleaded, "Hold me." Did that come from me or from Scully, he wondered. The aching need to hold and to be held grew overwhelming. Now the voice grew stronger, out from behind barriers. "Hold me!" it insisted, demanding to be heard, demanding to be obeyed. They found each other in their no man's land, and found their peace, sleeping soundly in each other's arms. End Chapter 5 =============================================== Chapter Six - Part One Time passed. For Mulder and Scully the days were filled with what had become a familiar routine. Lesson piled upon lesson, in an almost overwhelming flood of information and skills to be learned. Yet absorbed as they were by the intensive training, they still managed to find time to explore the labyrinthine corridors of the castle, and to make friends among the varied and colorful residents of Fairwood Castle. They soon came to like and respect the peoples of the Realm. As the flow of days and nights turned into weeks, Aldara continued to push Scully hard, drilling her for hours on the practice fields. It seemed to Scully that no sooner had she mastered one skill, the relentless half-elf would have several more for her to learn, each increasingly more difficult than the last. The soft skin of her hands blistered then hardened into tough calluses, while the untried muscles of her arms and shoulders slowly, achingly strengthened until the unfamiliar weight of the sword became a comfortable extension of her hand. There was no small sense of triumph when out of a combination of frustration and fierce determination, she finally pierced through her instructor's guard for the first time, scraping Aldara's shoulder with the point of her sword. But even more satisfying than the increasing confidence in her own abilities, was the warmth of friendship and understanding that flourished between the dark half-elf warrior and her human pupil. The hours spent in exhausting physical combat training were balanced by the mental challenge provided by the demands of Realm-style healing. At first Scully had been deeply skeptical of Corvay, her scientific training making her suspicious of his spell and herb-based treatments. But doubt had given way to astonishment and fascination, as her own unexpected talent asserted itself. Every sensation of a patient's pain working its way into her body, each successful probe of her mind into the tissues and cells, feeling them respond to the force of her will, increased her desire to learn even more. The disciplines of mind and body complemented each other, new skills building on the previous ones, so that by the end of each long day she would find herself wandering back to the room she shared with Mulder with a mixed sense of accomplishment and bone-deep exhaustion. The long days were no less trying for Fox Mulder. Reinald drove him with ruthless fervor, trying desperately to squeeze a lifetime's worth of learning into a few precious weeks. They progressed in leaps and spurts, interspersed by long hours of frustration as Mulder struggled valiantly to control the mage- energy that always seemed so close to bursting out of his wavering grasp. Learning the history, rules, and long spell chants was easier, his eidetic memory devoured knowledge at an extraordinary rate. The problem was in translating the intellectual understanding into successful performance - something that can only come with experience, and both men were only too aware that their time was running short. - - - - - Fox Mulder rested his hands on the top of the stone wall and stared out into the garden. So much of it was familiar, green grass, bright flowers, oak and pine and maple trees. But then, just out of the corner of his eye, there would be an odd combination of colors, a strange shape, an anomaly. Sometimes it would be no more than a purple colored fruit, or a quick glimpse of an elf's pointed ear. Sometimes it would as unnerving as a gargoyle's pointed smile and or a troll's clawed hand. Continuous reminders of just how far from home they were. As dusk turned to night, the stars began to twinkle against the soft black of the sky. Mulder tipped his head back and stared at the unfamiliar constellations, searching yet again for a recognizable configuration of little bright dots. There, perhaps, an overstretched big dipper perhaps, and there just possibly a two- belted Orion. He shook his head, a feeling of intense home- sickness sweeping over him. Would they ever find their way back? "Mulder?" Scully's voice was warm in his ear. He didn't respond as her footsteps brought her to his side. He hadn't needed to hear her voice to know she was behind him, by now he always knew where she was. It was like having a part of himself walking around separate, and yet not separate. As she came to stand next to him, her head tilted upwards toward him, her auburn hair slipping down over her shoulders in a riot of color. "The stars are different." Mulder finally angled his head to look down at her. "Have you noticed that, Scully." "Yes," she replied. "But it's the two moons that always surprises me." Mulder nodded, and turned to stare back up at the sky. Scully watched him in silence, admiring the way the long, dark blue tunic graced the lean strength of his body as the wind stirred up tendrils of his dark hair, which he had been letting grow out of its FBI-standard short cut. She loved how the sharp planes and angles of his face were defined by the dim light, the hollows lining his high cheekbones and the determined thrust of his jaw. His dark hazel eyes were turned away from her now, searching the sky for the answers it refused to supply. "We'll get home." Scully spoke with a confidence she didn't feel. He just shrugged his shoulders. No use in going over it again, the hopeless round of questions without answers. There was simply no assurance that the vortex would ever open to their world again, even if Reinald tried to influence it. Apologetic as he had been, the mage could make no promises that he could direct the portal successfully; the attempt that had brought them through had been more chance than expertise. And given that one portal opening was tuned to the Dark Realm, would it even be safe to try? Beyond that, there remained the question of whether they could abandon this Realm to its fate, thereby failing to aid the people who were quickly becoming their friends. Neither Mulder or Scully could find any easy solutions. "Yes, of course we will." Mulder spoke the words as if by saying them he could simply make it so. A small voice inside him said that he would make it work, at least for Scully. He was going to see her home safe, if he had to die trying. As if she had read his thoughts, and perhaps she had, Scully reached out to grasp his arm. "The operative word there is 'we,' Mulder. No more 'drawing the line' for me. I'll draw my own, and the first one is that, whatever happens to us, we handle it together. Leave me and I'll find you and kick your ass, even if I have to go through ten vortexes to do it." Mulder laughed, and placed his hand over hers. "I'd never even think about it, Scully. I've seen you handle a sword." A sudden image flashed in front of his eyes from their practice swordfight just a few days before. This beautiful woman, now dressed in a flowing blue gown, her hair curled into soft ringlets, had then been standing triumphant over his prone body, the point of her sword unerringly aimed at his throat. Her lips raised in a half-snarl, her blue eyes had glittered down at him from a flushed and dusty face, her breath coming in short gasps as she recovered from the fury of the swordplay. His greatest surprise hadn't been losing to her, which he had done many times before, it had been the sudden realization that she had never looked more gloriously lovely, more truly, dominantly herself, than she did in that very moment, despite all the dirt and sweat and disheveled clothes. Of course, that hadn't stopped him from giving her a literal shock of his own. Closing his eyes in apparent surrender, he had sent a wave of magical energy up the sword, turning the metal hotter and hotter until she dropped the glowing silver metal with a cry of dismay. He wasn't likely to ever forget the flash of fury in her eyes as she realized what he'd done, even though it had disappeared in a rapid wave of mirth, as she laughingly accused him of cheating. "And don't forget it!" she challenged him lightly, jolting him out of his reverie. A smile hovering on the edge of his lips, he didn't bother to reply. Instead he stood staring down into her eyes, suddenly held spellbound by one of those flashes of communion, those rare, but consuming instants in which they were bound in total understanding. They froze in place, minds melding, as bright images burned into their brain, each seeing him/herself as though looking through the other's eyes. "Is that how I look to him/her?" they thought simultaneously, a flood of emotions threatening to break the dam of self-control each had so carefully built. Scully unconsciously leaned up against Mulder as he bent his head down to hers, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss so sweet it brought tears to her eyes. She responded avidly, pressing her body up against the heat of his, sighing deep in her throat. For a long precious moment, they savored the touch and feel of each other, only to have the enchantment broken as his mouth found the salty drops on her cheeks. "Dana," he breathed her name, his eyes finding hers as he gently stroked her cheek. She saw the fear and anxiety deepen in his expression, turning the diamond-like color of his eyes into coal. She shook her head slightly, not able to find the words to express what she was feeling, and just as quickly as it had come, the instant of empathy faded and was gone, leaving them shaken and confused in its aftermath. They remained clasped in each other's arms, neither willing to make the first move for several endless uncomfortable seconds. Then with a deep breath, Mulder stepped back away from her. Holding his left hand out between them, he narrowed his eyes in concentration. In no more than a blink of an eye, a small glowing sphere of blue light appeared in the palm of his hand. A flick of his wrist sent it spinning upwards to float a few inches above his shoulder. Smiling in satisfaction, he looked down at Scully who was watching him with a mixture of amusement and rueful amazement. "Would you like to take a walk in the garden, my Lady?" He bowed gracefully at the waist, then held out his arm for her. Scully let out a bright peal of laughter as she took his proffered elbow, deeply relieved and delighted to have the uncomfortable silence broken by his irreverent good humor. "I'd love to, kind sir" she replied. Together they walked around the stone wall and down the path, their way lit by the small blue globe floating a few inches above their heads. In the shadows under a large oak, a small brown figure watched them walk by, the small vibrant woman leaning happily against her taller male companion. Totally absorbed in each other, neither noticed their silent observer, innocently unaware of the jealous rage stirring in his heart. - - - - - Mirta bounced on the hay in her parent's wagon. "Market Day! Market Day!" The little troll was so excited. She loved going to the big human village with its bright colors, bustle and activity, and above all its stalls filled with food of all kinds. Last month her mother had bought her a fancy pastry with crumbly bread surrounding a spicy meat filling. Her stomach growled just at the thought, while she leaped even higher into the air, laughing as she fell down hard into the soft hay. At her mother's warning glance, she settled down in the wagon, giggling with joy. - - - - - From the edge of the forest, the green-scaled Hunter scout eyed the little troll with hunger boiling in its belly. She would make no more than a couple of mouthfuls, a sweet-tasting appetizer, but her parents would make a full meal. Gearing up on its powerful hind legs, it poised itself to attack. - - - - - Market Day at Wide River village was an important event in the southwest region of Fairwood Domain, happening only once a moon-cycle. People of all races flocked to the little town with wagons full of wares and goods. By dawn, the central green was already crowded with little stalls, filled with everything from fruits and vegetables to linen, cutlery, weapons and livestock. The air filled with a wide variety of appetizing smells, laughter and bargaining, children's voices raised in play. Elves bargained with trolls, and gargoyles with humans, trading a gleaming silver knife for a hand-crafted pot, a painstakingly embroidered shirt for a rare set of spices, bread for meat. Amid the bustle and hustle, children darted in and out, chasing each other in an elaborate variety of games. It was into the middle of this semi-organized chaos that the troll family's wagon, bobbling on a broken axle, was dragged by a pair of snorting, wild-eyed horses. "Henon, Watch out!" screamed a young gargoyle, grabbing her brother's hand and yank him out of the way of the way of the rearing, bloodied horses as they raced panic-stricken into the busy marketplace. People scattered out of the way as hay and vegetables spilled from the damaged wagon. Finally crashing head-first into a food stand, the horses squealed and reared up onto their hind legs, front hooves clawing the air in terror, coming to halt amid a mess of spilled stew and rolling loaves of bread. One small object rolled out of the wagon to come to halt at the feet of a young elven girl, her white-blond hair bound into two long braids behind her pointed ears. Reaching automatically to pick it up, her skin turned a pale white as a stunned gasp of fright escaped her lips. Taking a huge lung full of air, she let out a horrific screetch. "Hunters," she cried in sudden comprehension. "Hunters! Hunters! Hunters!" Almost simultaneously, the tower watch echoed her cries, alarm drums sounding in a frantic, staccato beat. No one wasted a moment in response. Pandemonium broke loose as mothers grabbed children, brothers grabbed sisters, men reached for swords and knives and spears. A thousand voices yelled at once as stalls full of goods, dishes and linens, vegetables and jewelry, bread, and tools were abandoned. As the last door was slammed and bolted, the town gate swung shut with a bang, leaving only a determined line of armed men fiercely eyeing the road from whence the wagon had come. In the deserted marketplace, amid the scattered breads and dusty trails of stew, the small object lay still and abandoned on the ground: the ripped and bloody hand of a baby troll. - - - - - The villagers fought valiantly, the men fighting desperately to protect their families and homes. But inch by inch, death by death, the pack of Hunters devoured their way closer to the village. In the center of the pack were a pair of Destroyers, their twisted, half-human, half-lupine faces sneering in a mockery of pleasure as they watched each man stumble and fall, surrounded by the eternally hungry Hunters. One Destroyer leaned down off its mount and wrenched the arm off a half- devoured, still living man, laughing as the human convulsed in voiceless agony and collapsed as a hunter tore into the skin of his neck, nearly detaching his head in one clean bite. The Destroyer leaped on ahead, brandishing the severed arm like a trophy, only to be struck in the face with a blast of blue flame. Standing on the roof of the gate tower, the village mage braced himself, and drawing on every last bit of energy he had, he let loose one more blue thunderbolt, this time striking the twisted dark-clad figure in the center of his chest. With a roar of agonized rage, it fell backwards from its mount, an unrecognizably horrible beast with the face of a wolf and the body of a lizard. Startled by the sudden loss of its master, the beast reared up, clawing the air, while its barely humanoid rider scrambled to his feet. From his perch on the top of the village gate-tower, Bradnor gathered the shreds of his shield around himself, anticipating a counter-attack from the now upright Destroyer. The cloak fell back from the creature's face, revealing cold yellow eyes and pointed fangs. Bradnor braced himself as it cursed vehemently in a raspy voice and directed a gnarled hand with long, pointed fingers at him. A black, roiling whirlwind appeared as the Destroyer snarled out a series of unintelligible syllables, spinning toward the young, terror-sticken mage, excreting a appalling stench. Falling down into the center of a sticky web that inexorably tightened upon his mind and body, the village mage closed his eyes and threw his remaining life's energy into a desperate call for help. Even as the sticky filaments ate into his flesh like acid, his mind fought its way loose, abandoning his doomed body, ranging across the Realm in search of a mind strong enough to hear his call. ========================================== Chapter Six - Part Two Fox Mulder swung the sword sideways, determined that this time he was going to beat Aldara without having to resort to magic. His small, quick opponent leapt forward, her sword flashing in the sun as it weaved an intricate dance, nearly striking him in the center of his chest. But he was ready for it. Leaping sideways, he brought his sword down in an arch on her extended arm, hitting her forearm with the flat of the blade. "Got you...." he crowed, his voice trailing off as the sudden weight of another's mind came crashing down upon him. His weapon clattering to the ground, Mulder clutched at his throbbing temples as he was deluged with a vivid series of nightmarish images: a creature from his worst nightmare waving the bloody stump of a human arm, lizard-like creatures with stubby wings and long jaws spitting fire at a small group of men defending themselves with swords and pitchforks, a spinning black spider web closing in on him, tightening on his limbs, squeezing the breath from his lungs. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Aldara's words of praise and challenge stopped in mid- flow as Mulder collapsed to the ground, cradling his head in his hands. She rushed forward to grab hold of him, but he pushed her away with trembling hands, mage energy sending blue currents up and down his body. As sparks shot out into the air, the sky grew thick and dark. A bolt of lightning struck Mulder's forgotten sword in a brilliant flash of light, sending Aldara scurrying backwards away from the trembling, senseless mage. Water drained from a boiling gray mass of clouds, turning the dusty practice field into a sea of mud. In its center a tall, slender figure slowly pulled himself to his feet and with a sobbing cry stretched up his arms toward the sky. Blue fire lanced around those arms, flames spurting out into the rain, throwing an eerie blue gleam over the scene. Lightning raced through the atmosphere, then gathered and flowed downwards twining itself around the blue-glazed man who stood alone. Bitter laughter echoed as he tossed bolts of blue and white power up at the menacing clouds, causing them to scatter and break, froth and rage. Lightning bounced up and down, creating a blinding firestorm of light. Rain fell in thick sheets, shimmering curtains of water lit by brilliant rays of light, eminating outward in strobe-like fashion from the seemingly frail body standing upright at the center of the hurricane. The Mage- storm grew in intensity until it crashed inward on itself, exploding currents of blue-tinged air gushing outwards to flatten everything in their path. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. Aldara picked herself up off the ground wearily, automatically checking to see if any bones had been broken. Then eyeing the motionless man - Mage - standing drenched and mud- stained several feet away, she was hit by a sudden desire to run as far and fast as she could. What on earth had she thought she was doing, playing sword master to a Mage of such power? One wrong move and he could blast her from this world with no more than a casual thought. She had been a fool to let a warm smile and friendly good humor blind her to what he truly was. Terrified and angry, she turned to leave, when the sound of a body hitting the ground in a splashing thud caught her attention, and despite herself she turned to look. Mulder had collapsed in an awkward pile of limbs, his face pressed down into a puddle of mud, his legs splayed out at uncomfortable angles. She took one step towards him, then halted, then took another, then halted again. Finally cursing her own foolhardy stupidity, she rushed over to his side, pulling his head up to rest in her lap. "MULDER!" Nearly tumbling down into the mud as she ran across the soaked field, Scully slid down beside her unconscious partner and shoved Aldara aside, too upset to even notice her as more than an obstacle. Perfectly willing to hand Mulder over to Scully, Aldara wiggled backwards, gasping in surprise a big hand closed around her arm and effortlessly pulled her to her feet. Her eyes flashing upwards, hands automatically moving into a defensive posture, she abruptly relaxed she found herself staring into the worried face of Captain Jourdain. "What happened?" he asked, even as the blue-robed figure of Mage Reinald rushed past them both to kneel down beside Scully and Mulder. "I don't know," Aldara replied, trying to rub some of the muck off her face with an equally dirty hand, as she looked up into Jourdain's blue eyes. "One minute we were practicing - he was doing well - the next he just collapsed. Then he started throwing mage energy like a child throwing hoopballs. I've never seen so much power, I thought he was going to burn himself alive!" Jourdain held the small half-elf close, his large hands nearly spanning her waist. "Just thank the Gods he didn't burn YOU alive." "No," Reinald interrupted, from his position below their feet. "Mulder would never do anything to hurt you, Aldara. He was just taken by surprise. The village of Wide River was attacked by a pack of Hunters led by two Destroyers. The village mage sent out a cry for help, just as he was dying. Mulder received the brunt of it because I was heavily shielded in my workroom, testing out a very precise spell. I think Mulder was overwhelmed by being mind-linked to the other mage at the very moment he died. Mulder's mind may believe it died too, and that belief could be enough to convince his body as well." Jourdain stared Mulder's prone figure, being rocked gently by Scully, in shocked sympathy. Aldara felt a deep pang of guilt twist her belly, as she turned in Jourdain's grasp to look down at the injured mage with tear-filled green eyes. As though divining her thoughts, Jourdain's deep voice whispered in her ear, "It wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done for him, even if you had known what was happening." "I know," Aldara replied in a barely audible voice, "but..." But she had let her fear and hatred of the mage-talent blind her to an innocent man's pain. How could she have been coward enough to even consider abandoning him? The depth of her shame made her body stiffen in Jourdain's grasp. Misinterpreting her response, Jourdain abruptly released her, chiding himself for being so forward with one of his sub- officers, especially one who was also a beautiful woman. He was a middle-aged soldier who had already buried one wife. What could a woman of such strength and grace see in an oaf like him? He was a fool to even be thinking about her that way. Pushing his way past her, he kneeled down in the mud beside Reinald. Aware only of the man laying senseless in her arms, Scully was close to panicking. "Snap out of it, Mulder!" she yelled at him, hoping to force a response, but he lay still and silent in her lap. Smoothing the wet bangs back off his forehead, she checked his pulse, relieved to feel it racing under her fingertips. Then she pulled back an eyelid, only to find his pupil dilated and unresponsive. "Dammit, Mulder, answer me," she cried, clutching him against her as her mind searched for a way to help him. A fierce hatred for the Realm and its total lack of modern medical facilities flowed through her. Herbs may be good for healing a fever, or psychic influence good for knitting a bone, but those were no consolation now. Blinded by a flood of tears, she brushed at her offending eyes with the back of her arm, smearing streaks of brown sludge across her face. A strong hand took hold of her arm, and she shoved it away without looking up. "Scully," a deep-throated male voice insisted. "Let us help." Scully glared up at Jourdain, biting off the angry words when she saw the very real concern in his eyes. "We need to get him somewhere warm" she said, forcing the words out through a veil of grief and fury. "Better send someone for Corvay." "I'll go!" Aldara offered, turning on her heels and racing for the castle even as she spoke. Finding the elven healer was something she could do and while it was not much in the way of making amends for her uncharitable - and cowardly - thoughts, it was at least a start. Scully didn't want to let go of Mulder, even for the few minutes it would take to carry him into the castle, but she knew they had to get him out of the cold mud and into a warm bed, especially if he was in shock. Reluctantly releasing her partner into the two men's hands, she struggled to her feet. Jourdain slipped his hands under Mulder's shoulders and lifted him up into his arms, even as Reinald cast a simple levitation spell. Together, Scully, Reinald and Jourdain guided the floating body across the grounds and into the castle. - - - - - Corvay and Aldara caught up with them as they entered Mulder and Scully's bedroom. Heedless of the effect of the mud on the satin coverlet, Reinald and Jourdain slowly lowered Mulder onto the bed. Yanking out the platform with a muttered curse as it stuck for a brief second then finally came loose, Scully clambered up onto the bed, squatting down beside Mulder. Corvay was only seconds behind her. Sitting down next to her, he reached out to touch the unconscious man's forehead. Closing his eyes, the Healer tried to push through the curtain of darkness to reach Mulder's mind, but he was thwarted again and again. Each time he began to make contact, he was forced out by a dark web of fibers which stung at his mind. Finally Corvay pulled back, grimacing. "I can't get through," he said, his voice tight with frustration and sadness. "It's like there's something in there blocking me. Every time I get close, I'm pushed out. I'm not sure if it's him, or something else." "What do you mean you can't get in? You HAVE to!" Scully cried, her eyes flashing fire as she glared at Corvay. "I'm blocked out," Corvay repeated, eyeing her with saddened empathy. "Unless he can find his own way out, I'm not sure there's anything we can do." "There may not be anything WE can do," Reinald interjected from the foot of the bed. "But I think there's something YOU can do, Scully." She spun around to face the white-haired mage, hope warring with panic. "What?" she demanded. "You may be able to reach him in a way no one else can. Through the life-bond." "The what?" she questioned hurriedly, wishing he'd stop wasting precious time with his magical mumbo-jumbo. "Just tell me what to DO!" Reinald sighed. Why did it not surprise him that Mulder had not told Scully about the life-bond? "Just reach out to him with your mind. Focus on your feelings for him, how much you love him, need him. Demand that he respond to you." It certainly wasn't hard to focus on her feelings for the usually frustrating, always challenging man she'd come to respect and trust more than any other living human being. A small voice inside her whispered 'respect?' 'Trust?' Isn't 'Love' closer to the truth? She shut it down fiercely, reaching out to take Mulder's hand between both of hers. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember everything Corvay had taught her about contacting the minds of their patients. Taking a series of deep breaths, she struggled to find her center, her need to help Mulder warring with the almost overwhelming tide of emotions raging through her. Finally forcing herself into an unsteady sense of calm, she decided it would have to be enough. Using a part of her mind she still did not understand, she stretched out her awareness, sending a stream of herself up through her hands, through the contact of her skin with Mulder's, up and up, towards the center of his awareness. A sharp gasp of pain whistled through her tightly clamped lips as she hit a heavy black barrier. Each probe at it sent a series of painful shocks rippling back down the connection, making her body shudder. But she had no intention of giving up. Gathering up her strength, she pulled back, drew and held a lungful of air, and pushed with all her might. Not realizing she screamed it aloud, she heard her inner voice cry out his name as she finally shattered the barrier and fused her mind with his. Suddenly, she was caught up in a whirlwind of nightmarish sights and sounds. Fire burned at her/his senses, causing her/him to cry out in pain. Creatures more terrifying than their worst nightmare crowded in on them, tearing at them, ripping their flesh apart. A stench so horrible it made their stomachs convulse filled their nostrils, a whining screech like a thousand nails scraping a blackboard assaulted their ears. Their minds connected into one entity, he/she plummeted through a vortex of gale-force winds, tumbling down into deep black nothingness. "Nnnooo!" she/he screamed. "Mulder/Dana!" his/her voice cried out. "Here...here...here," came the echo in response, each asking and replying in the same instant. "Lost...dying...no...fight..." each thought was bounced back and forth between the two halves of the whole, one's thoughts becoming the other's thoughts in the very moment the ideas were formed. Finally, moving in total unison, the joint consciousness struggled to find its way out of the darkness, each person's determination feeding off the other's until only one thought dominated the mind: to find the light again. It seemed to take an eternity, the darkness pressing in on them, shoving them down into the mouth of a monster, taking back an inch for every two gained. But finally, in one last desperate thrust, they burst back out through the dark curtain and into the light of day. Their minds twining around each other for a final precious moment, they shattered apart. As an edge of light filtered through screwed tight eyelids, Scully gulped for breath, feeling her lungs ache in protest. Below her, Mulder let out a choking gasp, his body jerking like it had been hit with an electric shock. Corvay caught the exhausted woman just as she began to wobble, and ever so gently placed her down by Mulder's side. Together, hands still clasped tightly together, they slipped into a deep and peaceful sleep. - - - - - Reinald stirred in the chair, and forced himself to take another swallow of the lukewarm tea. Jourdain was stretched out in the other chair, staring deep into the fire, his craggy features set and cold. The weary magician stretched and stood up to take another glance at the man and woman still sound asleep on the bed. No change, which was perhaps for the best. They would have all too much to face the next morning. At least Reinald had finally been able to dispel the remainder of the Destroyer's enchantment which had buried its way into Mulder's mind along with Bradnor's dying soul. Once that tangled skein of evil had been cleared away, Corvay had been able to reach into both Mulder and Scully's minds, settling them into a healthy healing trance. Hopefully, they would awaken in a few hours, minds recovered, at least partially, from the battle they had just barely won. "Do you think that this is wise?" Jourdain's throaty whisper startled Reinald, causing a few drops of tea to spill out onto his wrist as his hand jolted abruptly. Reinald turned and went back to his chair, placing the cup on the table and rubbing the splattered liquid into his already dirt-stained robe. "No, it probably isn't wise. But I don't think we have any choice. The Time is upon us, my old friend, and like it or not, the prophecy will out." "How do you know you won't be sending them to an early grave?" Jourdain countered, always skeptical of religious mutterings, even one as ancient - and increasingly fulfilled - as the old prophecy. "They can hardly help us save the Realm if they get killed by a couple lousy Destroyers." "I know." Reinald closed his eyes in anguish. "I'd Gate there myself, but I've never been to Wide River and we don't have a living mage on the other end to help create the Gate. I just can't afford to leave the Prince for the amount of time it will take to ride there by horseback. Besides, it's not much safer for Mulder and Scully here, and they need the chance to use their skills, or the training is meaningless. Bottom line - the people out there need help. Now." Jourdain nodded, he couldn't argue with that. But it still felt like they were sending a pair of children into battle. For all of the foreign couple's strengths, they seemed almost innately innocent at times. Perhaps that was just a factor of their unfamiliarity with this world, but he couldn't help being bothered by it. Nonetheless, Reinald had a point. The way things were going, there soon wouldn't be a safe place for anyone. Though most people would have been unable to see anything other than the carefully-schooled calm on the soldier's rugged features, Reinald knew his friend well enough to read the conflict in his eyes. "They may actually be safer out there than here in the castle," he added, hoping to further convince the doubtful Captain to accept this decision. "There's something wrong here. I can't bring it into focus, but I have a sense of something about to happen here, something evil focused on Mulder and Scully. We both know that rumors are flying around the council about those two and the prophecy. Everyone is terrified and uncertain - fertile ground for our enemies to strike from within. I'm afraid there may be an attempt on their lives." "Gods' blood!" Jourdain swore vividly, rising to his feet in a surprisingly graceful motion for a man of his large size. "I wish that surprised me more than it does." He shook his head in disgust as he walked over to peer down at the sleeping couple. He stood in silence for a moment, watching them intently, his mind in turmoil. But despite his misgivings, the truth of the mage's words was clear. With a sinking feeling in his heart, Jourdain turned back towards the seated mage, his face drawn, but resigned. "All right. We leave at dawn." - - - - - End Chapter Six =============================================== The Magician An X-File Story by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@aol.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@aol.com) Disclaimer: The X-Files, and the characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, and all rights thereto, are the property of FOX Broadcasting Network. The remainder of this story is the property of the authors. All comments are welcome. Authors' note: This story is a small departure from most X-Files fanfiction. At its heart, it is a fantasy, a slightly deeper trip into the 'realm' of make-believe. Sit back, relax, suspend your disbelief, and let us tell you a tale. Enjoy! Chapter Seven - Part One Mulder watched Scully as she tightened the girth in her saddle. She was dressed in a green leather tunic and brown leggings, her small feet encased in knee-high leather boots of the same forest green as her tunic. Her hair, which had grown a few inches over the past several weeks was braided and coiled into a fiery knot on the crown of her head. Her sword hung down the length of her back, its strap stretched tight between her breasts. She looked calm and confident, almost as though she were preparing to investigate a crime back home. Trade the tunic for a dark blue suitcoat, the sword for a gun, and she could have been back in the office. The problem was that they weren't at home. Heaven only knew what would be facing them at the end of the long two- day ride to the East. From what little Mulder remembered from his mind-link with Bradnor, this could be far worse than anything they had faced before. He wished there was a way to keep her from going, but he also knew better than to even suggest the idea to her. She'd be furious, and selfish though it seemed to him, he needed her - wanted her - by his side. Quite simply, there was no one in this, or any universe, whom he trusted to watch his back the way he trusted Scully. "Almost ready, Scully?" he forced himself to ask calmly, as though they were about to take a walk in the park. At the sound of his voice, she turned to look up at him. He was dressed in a dark brown version of the ever-present tunic, over a white shirt, black leggings, and black leather boots. His sword was dangling precipitously from his left hand, its leather guard scraping the dusty floor. His eyes were bright with excitement, and a very familiar concern. She knew full well he was worried about bringing her into this, but was grateful he had enough respect for her to leave it unspoken. "Yes," she answered. "Just need to finish packing my saddlebags. Better not let Aldara catch you treating that with such disrespect," she pointed at the wayward weapon. Mulder sighed and nodded, lifting it up to slide the strap over his shoulder. "It feels funny on my back, I can't help thinking that I'm going to stab myself in the butt." Scully laughed, reaching out to readjust the strap against his chest. "It won't if you wear it in the right position," she chided with a grin. - - - - - Partially hidden by the supply horse he was loading on the other side of the barn, Grejor watched them with a sullen, bitter expression. His angry eyes focused on Scully's smiling face, he piled one too many bag on top of the horse, and the small bundle toppled off the other side of the restless animal. With an exaggerated sigh, the unhappy apprentice walked around the horse to pick it, only to find Drellor handing it out to him with a friendly smile. "Hello Mage-Apprentice Grejor," the roly-poly councilor said, "You must be sorry to see them go. I'm sure you learned a lot from the foreign mage." "Yeah, sure," Grejor replied unconvincingly, grabbing the bundle from Drellor and turning to try again to load it on the horse's back. "Well, at least you'll be able to get back to your studies. You must be close to earning your Mage's blue by now." Grejor chatted easily, his eyes carefully reading every nuance of the young man's expression. "Sure, soon enough." Grejor's voice was shakily optimistic, but the set line of his mouth belied the relaxed tone. "Reinald has just been a little busy lately." "Why, of course!" Drellor responded as though he had just made an important discovery. "What with the sudden visit by his foreign friends, and his responsibilities as Regent, he must be quite busy." He shook his head, the rolls of fat under his chin wiggling. "It must be hard for you to compete with the young Prince for Reinald's time. It's too bad for you, though. You'd think he'd plan more carefully to give you the time you need. It is his responsibility." Grejor peered at Drellor suspiciously, but was met only with warm concern. Suddenly all the resentment and jealousy that had been slowly building in him burst out. He poured it all out, how Reinald had completely forgotten him in favor of Mulder, relegating Grejor to fetching and carrying. How Mulder and Scully were 'together' yet he was expected to spend his life alone studying. How his chance at earning the mage's blue had been postponed, perhaps by months, while Reinald trained a fool like Mulder who hadn't even known how to build his own shield; how Reinald would spend hours with the Prince, but had no time for his own apprentice; how... Throughout the young man's tirade, Drellor kept bobbing his head in sympathy, murmuring his understanding. The only evidence of his delight was the sparkle in small round eyes. Behind the paternal exterior, his clever mind was racing, examining every possible use of this situation. If he played his cards just right, the resentful student-mage could prove to be very useful to his plans. Very useful, indeed. - - - - - Finally packed and as fully prepared as they felt they would ever be, Mulder and Scully led their horses out of the barn to join Jourdain, Aldara and the remainder of the small company. Grejor led the two pack horses after them, surrendering the burdened animals over to one of the heavily-armed soldiers. Tarnor was already astride his smaller pony, its long white tail and mane waving in the breeze. Mulder winced slightly at the sight of his welcoming grin. As much as he liked and trusted the little gargoyle, those sharp, jagged teeth caused an instinctive recoil from the taller human. "Ready to go?" Jourdain walked over beside them, giving them a quick once over. They appeared to be prepared, though Mulder's sword was still a bit cockeyed, and Scully looked tiny and frail next to large horse. But their faces were calm and serious, their stances tense and controlled. "Yes," Mulder and Scully both nodded. "Good." Jourdain replied, angling around to give his soldiers a quick hand signal indicating they should mount their horses. Then he looked back at the two foreigners. "Aldara will be leading," he instructed. "She knows the area better than anyone. I'll be in the rear. Scully, you stay close to Aldara, and Mulder, you'd better stay in the middle with Tarnor. It's nearly a full days ride to Horse's Run Inn. We'll stop briefly at noon to eat, spend the night at the Inn, then it should be close to another day's ride to Wide River." Jourdain gave them one more look- over, then grimaced. No use putting this off any longer. "Let's go." He returned to his horse, taking the reins from Aldara, then leaped into the saddle in one fluid, practiced motion. Mulder gave Scully a hand up into her saddle, then started to clamber up into his. "Wait, Mulder!" Reinald came running up behind them, his long blue robe flying out behind him, white hair nearly standing on end. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to come see us off," Mulder said with a teasing lilt in his voice. Reinald smiled as he came up beside the tall dark man. "I almost forgot something important," he replied holding out a large dark-blue bundle of cloth to Mulder. "You better wear this." "What is it?" Mulder questioned, taking the woolen garment and spreading it out over his arms. "A mage-robe like mine. Actually, you should have been wearing one already, but since you were in training, and everyone in the castle knew you were a foreigner, I thought you could manage without one. However, beyond the Fairwood grounds you should wear this at all times. It is both a symbol and a warning, a mark of both authority and responsibility. The white lining signifies your allegiance to the light, the depth of the blue the strength of your power." Reinald sighed unhappily. "Normally, the robe is conferred with an elaborate ceremony. I do not like having to just hand it to you like this, but we do not have the time to spare." "That's okay," Mulder replied, shrugging his shoulders. The cloak felt warm and soft against the skin of hands. "I never cared much for ceremonies." He grinned, his eyes twinkling. "It'll make a great blanket if we get stuck on the road." "Mulder!" Reinald protested, then shook his head. No use arguing with his protégé's irreverent humor. He knew just how serious Mulder could be when he felt the situation warranted it, so let him enjoy himself now. There were likely to be few reasons for mirth in the upcoming days. Several of the other observers weren't quite so accepting, their expression ranging from Aldara's look of surprise to Grejor's sullen resentment. Scully just sighed, Mulder had a gift for being annoyingly disrespectful of protocol, no matter where or when. "Put it on, Mulder. We need to get going," Scully urged, impatient to get on the road, already dreading the long ride ahead. "Okay." Mulder yanked the sword off his shoulders, handing it out to Reinald. He arranged the cloak over his shoulders, then fumbled for a way to fasten it. "Here," Reinald said, giving Mulder back his weapon and reaching up to find a small button on the inside of the collar. After Reinald had finished adjusting the cloak, Mulder put the sword back on over, with a silent grimace for Scully, then turned to contemplate getting on the horse, cloak, sword and all. "This looks so much easier in the movies," he grumbled. The only one who could make sense of the reference, Scully laughed. "You're the magician. Levitate yourself." Mulder flashed her a brilliant smile, as he accepted the light challenge in her voice. "All right." Closing his eyes, he concentrated for a moment, his brow crinkling into a familiar set of lines. Ever so slowly, he rose up into the air, then turned sideways and settled himself smoothly down into the saddle. He would have completed the levitation perfectly, if he hadn't misjudged the reaction of the horse to having someone float in the air above it. Snorting, it pulled to the side just enough to have Mulder hit its back at angle, sliding off to his left. Yelling his annoyance, Mulder grabbed for the horse's mane and only barely kept himself from tumbling to the ground. The horse reared up, then down, as its would-be rider clung on for dear life. Finally managing to pull himself into an upright position, Mulder glared at Scully, as everyone else tried to stifle their laughter. "Good try, Mulder," she said, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice. "Yeah right. Next time I'll levitate you!" he threatened, still trying to adjust himself into a comfortable position. "No thanks" she replied with a sweet smile, nudging her horse forward to pull up beside Aldara. Mulder playfully stuck out his tongue at her back, then couldn't help relaxing into a grin and joining in the general amusement, even if it was at his expense. As Jourdain gave the signal to go, Reinald grabbed onto Mulder's leg. Mulder leaned down to hear the mage's whispered words. "I'm sorry we don't have more time to prepare you for this. Remember to center and watch your shield." Reinald's blue eyes clouded with worry. "And be careful!" Mulder's eyes darkened as he nodded. "I will." - - - - - It was a perfect day for a ride, Scully had to admit as she guided her horse in an easy trot beside Aldara. Only a few whisps of white cotton floated in a perfect blue sky. The air was warm with a slight cooling breeze, and the road was lined with the vivid colors of the forest: the green and brown of the trees and the bright rainbow colors of the flowers. She drew in a deep breath of clear, untainted air and smiled with pleasure. Aldara caught her companion's smile and returned it briefly. Then her face settled into a frown. "What is it?" Scully asked concerned. Aldara considered for a moment, then angled her head back toward Mulder who was chatting easily with Tarnor and one of the soldiers, the velvet warmth of his laugh echoing in the air. "I don't understand him. He doesn't act like a Mage, he doesn't act like anyone I've ever met." Her emerald eyes were wide with confusion. Scully couldn't help laughing, which only increased Aldara's perplexity. "I'm sorry, Aldara," Scully said. "It's just that Mulder..." she turned her head to glance back at her partner. "Mulder never acts like anyone else. He's utterly and completely unique. I know him better than anyone, and he still manages to surprise me." The taciturn half-elf considered that for moment, then grinned at her friend. "That must make for an interesting life." "Yeah," Scully responded, "Sometimes a little too interesting." They shared a look of total understanding, then focused back on the road ahead, riding comfortably side-by-side. - - - - - By the time they rode into the Inn courtyard, everyone was exhausted, dusty and hungry. Mulder and Scully were both uncomfortably aware that a couple of hours a day of riding practice had not fully prepared them for the rigors of spending an entire day in the saddle. Scully's back and legs ached intensely, every position she'd tried in the last couple of hours as painful as the others. Mulder was equally sore, the muscles in his thighs complaining fiercely. He was dreading trying to get down and walk. Aldara caught both their looks of discomfort and shared an amused glance with Jourdain. Good thing she'd brought some lotion with her, those two were going to need it. The clatter of the horse's hooves on the gravel brought a couple of young boys, both with shoulder-length blond hair, brown eyes, and elven pointed ears. Excited, they ran forward to take the reins from Aldara and Scully, leading the horses into the nearby stable. Mulder gratefully handed over his horse to the young soldier he'd been talking with on their ride and wandered over to the women, grunting as he rubbed at his sore back. Jourdain let his four men take the rest of the horses into the barn and headed for the inn. He was met at the doorway by the innkeeper, a larger version of the boys: short but well- muscled. The older elf was dressed in a bright mix of colors, bright red pants under a red, green, blue, and yellow vest and a white shirt. Around his belly he wore a big leather belt with a large set of keys and two big pouches hanging down his side. Forced to peer up at the much taller Jourdain, the elf eyed him with a mixture of greed and suspicion. Soldiers and mercenaries were good-spenders, but they also tended to be trouble. "What can we do for you this fine evening?" the innkeeper asked politely. "We'll need food, and rooms for the night. And fodder for the horses." Jourdain thought for a moment. The four guards could bunk together, as would Mulder and Scully. He and Tarnor could share a room, which left Aldara ... well, better make that four rooms total. "Four rooms. And baths for the ladies." The innkeeper's eyes widened slightly as he did some rapid math in his head. "Twelve silvers, and six iron pieces," he said, his eyes glinting with avarice. Jourdain frowned, bargaining was not one of his favorite past-times, but even he knew that he was being royally over- charged. "Six silvers and three iron pieces," he replied, deciding to begin by slicing the price in half. The innkeeper puffed up angrily. "You insult me, sir! Why one of our rooms is worth more than that per night. And this is a busy time of the year. I was giving you a good deal, because things are quiet right now. And you repay my courtesy by trying to cheat me! No, I will not take one less than ten silvers and five irons." Jourdain shook his head. "Eight silvers and four irons. Not a bit more." "You are nothing but a highway robber!" responded the innkeeper. "How am I supposed to feed my family when you cheat me like this. My poor children..." The innkeeper went off in a tirade, hands flying a series of elaborate gestures, while an annoyed Jourdain stood impatiently, tapping his right foot against the step. Across the lawn, Aldara couldn't help giggling at the irritated frown on the Captain's face. "What's going on?" Scully asked, rubbing her hands through her hair, pasting it back into a semblance of the neat braid she had started out with that morning. "Jourdain hates to bargain." Aldara shook her head, the cloud of black hair framing her face waving down her back with the motion. "Guess someone better go help. He'll either give in and pay too much, or lose his temper and hit the innkeeper." "That wouldn't be good," Scully replied wearily. "Right now, though, I'd give about anything for a bath." Mulder nodded. "Yeah, me too. There ought to be a way to speed this up." He glanced back towards the inn, his head tilting slightly to the side. 'Uh oh.,' Sculy thought, as Mulder glanced at her with a familiar glint in his hazel eyes. Brushing more of the dust off his robe, he headed purposefully towards the men arguing in front of the inn doors. Thinking he was just following her suggestion, Aldara stepped in behind him, turning her head in surprise as Scully caught her elbow. "What?" "I don't know," the red-haired woman grimaced and gestured towards the man striding across the yard. "He's up to something. I know that look in his eyes." "Up to what?" Aldara asked with concern. Scully shrugged. "Just be prepared." Jourdain was about ready to punch the innkeeper, when an imperious voice sounded from the bottom of the steps. "Is there a problem, Captain?" Jourdain turned, his eyes dilating with astonishment. Standing at the foot of the steps, Mulder was looking up at them, his face calm and expectant. Despite the dust of travel, and the inevitably-crooked sword, he appeared every inch the powerful Mage. His eyes were dark and hooded, his finely-drawn features carved in stone. The dark blue of his mage-robe seemed to shimmer in the evening air. Sliding up the stairs as though his feet were almost floating, he paused beside Jourdain and looked down at the innkeeper. "I assume you have rooms available for my friends and myself." "Uhh, yes..." The innkeeper stammered, his already pale skin turning white. "We were just deciding on the price, honorable Magician." Jourdain held his smile, saying calmly, "I believe we were just settling on six silvers and five irons as a fair price." The trembling elf automatically opened his mouth to argue, then shut it when he saw blue sparks fly from the tall mage's fingers as he absentmindedly brushed his hand though his dark hair. "Yes, yes, six and five it is. Come, come," the small elf confirmed, backing away nervously towards the door. Throwing one more unhappy glance over his shoulder at Mulder, who gave him another commanding stare, he hurried inside, calling out a rapid series of instructions. Still outside, Mulder and Jourdain exchanged looks of amusement. "Thank you," Jourdain said as he reached for the door. "Elves have refined the process of bargaining to a fine art, and not even they can compete with innkeepers. Combine the two and...well, normally you end up wasting a good candlemark or two arguing price, and if you give in too soon, they get huffy and annoyed." Waving Mulder into the inn ahead of him, Jourdain added. "Maybe I should bring a Mage along more often." Mulder grinned, then reassuming his professional composure, he swept into the inn's darkened interior. Jourdain held the door for Scully and Aldara, who had both been listening to the conversation with increasing enjoyment, then followed them inside. The inn's central room reminded Mulder and Scully of an old-fashioned bar. One wall was lined by a long, low counter with rows of bottles on shelves behind it. Wooden, circular tables were spotted throughout the room. Some were set low to the floors, others were elevated with large wooden stools. In the corner a large stone fireplace provided most of the light, with small streams of the fading sunlight brushing the gloom below a few small windows. A tiny, but matronly elf wearing a bright yellow dress and striped red and green apron burst out from behind the counter. "Come in, come in," she urged in a friendly, high-pitched voice. Her eyes widened as she stared up at Mulder who towered over her in his still-glowing blue robe. She sank into a deep bow, then smiled hesitantly. "This way Sir Magician, this way. We have the best room in the house for you, just up the stairs. It has a nice window, and plenty of space. My boys will unload your horses and bring your things upstairs, while you rest from your long journey. Yina, my daughter, is already heating water for your bath." She bobbed her head again, glancing up at him with wide brown eyes. "Please, follow me." Exhausted, Mulder was more than willing to take her up on the offer. He held back long enough to let Scully and Aldara proceed him, then followed the women up the stairs. Their hostess was more than a little surprised when it became obvious that the small red-haired soldier was rooming with the mage, while the other two guards were taking other rooms. Mulder avoided her questions by giving her an intense stare. One look at his set, determined face, and she backed off, her hand crumpling the corner of her apron in distress. Making a magician unhappy could have dire consequences. Once the door was closed, Mulder crossed the room and settled down on the bed with a sigh. "God, Scully, what I wouldn't give for a car right now. Anything, even an ancient rusty Oldsmobile, just as long as it ran on wheels and not four legs." Scully flopped down on the bed next to him, rubbing at the small of her back. "Yeah, me too. FBI training didn't include spending ten hours straight on top of a horse. Wake me in about a week." Mulder grinned and leaned over, propping his head on one hand. "Sure. That means I get the first bath." Scully's eyes popped wide open. "Oh no it doesn't." Groaning slightly, she forced herself into a sitting position. "Ladies first!" He opened his mouth, about to give her the nearly irresistible reply, but one look at her pale, drawn face convinced him that silence was the better part of valor. He settled for leaning back in the bed, closing his eyes, and dreaming about a nice, shiny Ford truck with air-conditioning and four wheel drive. - - - - - =============================================== Chapter Seven - Part Two (NC-17) Note: This is the NC-17 version, the PG-13 version will be in the next post. You can pick and choose which to read, nothing from the story will be lost if you prefer the PG-13 version, except some more-detailed adult sexual activity. Your choice! After a short nap and a bath, everyone was feeling better. Dinner was surprisingly good, a hearty stew with sweet brown bread and a thick foamy ale. Jourdain, Aldara, Scully and Mulder were sitting at one round table, the four guards seated around a neighboring one. Tarnor had accepted a platter of raw meat and bread from one of the waitresses and retired upstairs. Thinking that she would very soon follow the gargoyle's example, Scully sipped at the ale gingerly, while Mulder eyed it appreciatively, then chugged down half the contents of his mug. "Better watch it, Mulder," Scully said, her lips curving up as she watched him lick at the foam on his upper lip. "Tomorrow is going to bad enough without a hangover." "One glass of beer is hardly going to make me drunk," he protested with a grin. "How do know it's 'beer?'" Scully asked. "We have no idea what the alcohol content it, or even whether it is alcoholic." "No, it's got alcohol, or something nearly as good." Mulder smiled as the warmth spread outward from his stomach, easing some of the remaining pain in his lower back. Aldara's magic lotion had been a godsend, but nothing beat a cold glass of beer. "Obviously," Scully replied, arching an eyebrow at him in censure, though her blue eyes twinkled. "Still," Jourdain interrupted between mouthfuls. "Better take it easy on that stuff. We ride at dawn, and I expect you two to be ready to go on time." Mulder and Scully both grimaced, but nodded. Even over a relaxing dinner, it was not easy to forget the seriousness of their mission. "When do you think we'll get to Wide River?" Mulder asked Aldara, breaking off another piece of bread. "If we get on the road at sunrise," she replied. "We should get there by mid afternoon if all goes well." They sat in silence for a moment, each considering what the might have to face the next day. At a table closer to the door a small group of traveling mercenaries were busily getting drunk. All five men were dressed in dirty green wool and leather outfits, swords slung over their shoulder or propped against their stools. Several had knives through their black rawhide belts. All had long hair, bound back into tight ponytails on the tops of their heads, and several sported jagged scars across their faces, arms, and necks. As the waitress passed by, one of the men, with a white-lined scar across his right cheek, grabbed her, pulling her down into his lap. "Let me go," she cried angrily, jabbing him in the stomach with her elbow and leaping away nimbly. He gasped for breath as his compatriots roared with laughter, jeering at him. Once he had recovered his breath, he sat for a few minutes, eyeing the pretty blond elf in her yellow and brown dress as she wended her way over to Mulder and Scully's table with a pitcher of ale. A few more drinks down his throat combined with some rude comments from the other men, and he was at a fever pitch of anger and desire. The next time she passed by, he leapt up to seize her from behind, pulling both her wrists behind her and shoving her face down on the table. Immediately, his friends started banging their ale glasses on the table, cheering him on with raucous laughter. She screamed and wiggled, trying to kick him, but he was twice as big as she was. Her scream died out into a muffled moan of disgust as he yanked her head back by her long hair, kissing her hard as he rubbed his body over hers. "Take your hands off her," the innkeeper raced over to his daughter's defense. "Back off," the scarred mercenary growled, knocking the elf down with one hard punch. One of the other men yelled out, "Hey Vidar, hurry up. My turn next." That was the final straw as far as Mulder was concerned. Unwilling to leave things to Jourdain and his men, who had already started across the room, Mulder pushed his way past them and seized the would-be rapist by the arm, yanking him backwards. The big mercenary responding by tossing the girl towards one of his friends, who caught and held her struggling body gleefully. Then he pulled his arm out of Mulder's grasp and swung at him. Mulder was faster though, ducking underneath, then spinning to kick the large man in the gut. He staggered against the table, then with a berserk roar of anger, threw himself onto his taller, but far more slender, adversary. As Mulder and the enraged mercenary fought, Jourdain pulled the screaming waitress away from the man pawing her, and pushed her away. She ran crying for the kitchen. Robbed of his prey, the second mercenary jumped on Jourdain, and pandemonium broke loose. Aldara and Scully managed to get the innkeeper out of the way, before leaping into the fight themselves. Aldara nearly took one mercenary's head off with her sword before catching herself and rendering him unconscious with the heavy hilt, while Scully jumped on another's back, clawing at his eyes. He bellowed and spun, finally throwing his smaller attacker up into the air. Twisting as she flew, she managed to bring her feet underneath her to land in a crouch on top of a table. Her red-hair flying around her face, her blue eyes were blazing as she pulled a knife out of her boot and brandished it at the mercenary who approached her with a growing smile on his rough face. "Now, now, pretty wrench. How about you put down the knife so we can have us some fun!" he urged, reaching out towards her. Scully simply stared at him, waiting until he got just close enough, then she struck. "Oowww!" he cried as she sliced his cheek with the knife, then leapt out of the way of his hand. With dawning respect, he faced her, pulling out a knife of his own. Behind them, Mulder was still rolling on the floor, struggling with his bulkier opponent. The two men hit at each other's vulnerable areas with knees and gouging hands. Finally delivering a punch into the mercenary's throat that knocked him briefly senseless, Mulder was finally able to scramble to his feet. One quick glance around at the war being fought across the room convinced him that he'd better stop this before someone got killed. While it was still more instinctive to react physically than magically, Mulder hadn't been studying for so long without learning a few useful spells. Centering and grounding almost by rote, he tuned down his shield and began to focus on creating a spell that would freeze the combatants in place, stopping any further violence in its tracks. However, Mulder was still slow in utilizing his new talents, and before he could finish the spell, the mercenary got up to his feet and struck Mulder hard in the stomach. The inexperienced mage yelled in pain, his unfinished spell exploding in a loud thunderclap around him, sending the mercenary spinning upwards to float in mid-air, his body enclosed in a deep blue cloud. Instant frozen silence descended upon the room, as Mulder stared upwards in shock at the terrified man writhing inside the blue envelope above his head. Quick to take advantage of the situation, Jourdain shoved his wide-mouthed adversary aside and strode over to Mulder's side. "My gratitude to you, Magician, for your timely assistance," he said in a ringing voice. "My deepest apologies for subjecting you to this kind of uncouth brawl. If you wish to retire at this point, Mage Mulder, I'm sure my guards and I can take it from here. These men have had enough for tonight, isn't that so?" He looked pointedly from the one still suspended in mid-air to the others. Shaken, they all nodded, suddenly noticing the color of Mulder's robe for the first time. One swallowed nervously, seemingly shrinking into the floor. Another turned deathly pale and fell to his knees to vomit between his legs. At a glance from Jourdain, his men grabbed the four still earth-bound mercenaries and propelled them up the stairs to their room. Scully and Aldara breathed a sigh of relief, checking to see if each other was all right, then walked over to stand beside Jourdain and Mulder. "Get him down, Mulder. We should probably call it a night," Scully suggested wearily, returning the knife to her boot, extremely grateful that she'd bothered to wear it as Aldara had recommended. "I can't," Mulder replied unhappily. Three shocked pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. "What do you mean, you can't?" Jourdain questioned. "I didn't mean to do this. I was just going to blast the ceiling with a few fireworks to catch people's attention - stop the fighting. But he hit me before I could finish the spell, and it just exploded. I don't know what happened and I haven't the faintest idea how to reverse it." Mulder shook his head sadly, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "I think it ought to wear off in a few hours, but I'm not sure." "Mulder! Didn't Reinald teach you how to turn that stuff off?" Scully protested. "Sure," he replied, "but the method of undoing a spell is directly related to the spell itself, and this one got scrambled. Trying to undo it the wrong way could just make it worse." Scully looked annoyed for a moment, then the corners of her mouth uplifted in a smile. Aldara frowned at her, then up at the man floating above their heads, and then found herself smiling also. "Well, I guess he'll just have to sleep it off," she said. They all started to laugh. - - - - - Another long day on horseback, this one spent mostly in grim silence. The closer they got to their destination, the more they dreaded what they were going to find. But not even their worst imaginings could have prepared them for the devastation that awaited them. Aldara led them in single file up the road to Wide River. Even before they drew into sight of the town itself, they could see smoke wavering up towards the late afternoon sun. The air carried a stench that built in their quivering nostrils until it was nearly unbearable. It was a combination of rotting flesh, burnt meat, and something unidentifiably evil. Mulder rubbed at his nose, thinking that even the New Jersey sewers hadn't smelled this bad. They came across the first set of bodies - or what remained of the bodies - as they turned a curve in the road and saw the shattered town gates a short distance ahead. Coming to an abrupt halt, Scully slid down off her horse to kneel down beside one twitching body. The man's face was a wreck, one arm had been torn off, his legs were ripped to shreds. Large bite had been taking from his chest and abdomen, and his intestines boiled out of his belly, with crawling flies buzzing into the cavity. As Scully bent down over him, he twitched again, his mouth opening in a silent cry. "Oh my God!" she yelled back at the others crowding behind her, all color leached out of her face. "He's still alive!" A shout from one of the guards indicated that another ravaged man was still alive also. Mulder and Jourdain exchanged agonized glances, then turned to Scully. "Is there anything you can do for them?" Jourdain asked. "I..." Scully felt tears sting her eyes as she contemplated injuries that even a modern hospital would be hard put to deal with. She shook her head, even with surgical facilities, antibiotics, and a team of doctors, she doubted this man could be saved. The sound of the young guard vomiting into the ashy dust of the road not far away, confirmed that the other's injuries were probably as serious. "I doubt it. I don't have the skills, or the equipment. I don't think even Corvay could heal this." At the sound of her voice, the dying man found one last bit if strength and reached out to grasp her arm. She recoiled in shock, but was already being hit by his pain. Doubling over in excruciating agony she screamed and screamed. "Scully!" Mulder yelled, leaping to the ground to pull her away. Sobbing, she clung to him, burying her head against his shoulder. He held her for a long moment, until her shaking decreased. Tilting her head up to face him with gentle fingers under her chin, he didn't bother speaking, just let his eyes ask for him. "I'm okay, Mulder. I'm okay." She brushed the strands of auburn hair out of her eyes, then glanced back at the man in the dirt. "He...he wants me to kill him." Mulder nodded, still holding her tight against him. He brushed the top of her head with his mouth, then let her go and stood up. "I'll do it," he said grimly, his mouth set in thin line. "No!" Scully's eyes were moist but determined. "He asked me. I felt his pain, Mulder. I have to release him myself." "Scully," Mulder protested, but her face was darkly certain. "Are you sure?" he spoke softly. "Yes," she swallowed and met his dark eyes with a confidence she didn't feel. "I have to." "Okay," he replied accepting her right to make that decision. "Jourdain and I will check the others." The big captain tapped Mulder on the shoulder in agreement, then walked past them towards the gate. As he brushed past Aldara he angled his head towards Scully. "Look after her," he whispered. She nodded barely perceptibly, and went over to stand by Scully as the grieving doctor knelt down, tears now streaming openly down her whitened cheeks, and prepared to do the hardest thing she'd ever had to do in her life. Jourdain and Mulder worked their way closer to the smoldering, broken town gates, examining one bloody, fractured corpse after another. To their bitter relief, only two others of the close to three dozen bodies were still alive. With gritted teeth, and fury in their eyes, they each chose a dying man. In silent agreement, the two men drew their swords and in one clean blow, severed both necks simultaneously. Scully used her mind rather than her sword to give the dying man the peace he deserved. Carefully, she reached into the base of his skull with her mind and severed the nerves one by one, so that he would feel no more pain from his body while she tightened a mental fist on the blood vessels bringing oxygen to the brain. She felt his relief as paralysis ended the agony, and his gratitude as he slipped into unconsciousness and death. She felt every sensation he did, until he was no longer there, leaving her bent sobbing over an empty shell that had once been a human being. Aldara reached out to hold her friend from behind, wrapping thin, strong arms surrounding her. Scully struggled to get free, then collapsed into a whirlwind of exhaustion, pain, frustration, sadness, and above all, a deep burning rage. Her eyes glowed with blue fire as she turned to glare into Aldara's sorrowful green eyes, while her voice was cold, clear and steady. "Someone is going to pay for this." - - - - - It took the small company nearly three hours to work their way methodically through the ravaged village. No structure had been left untouched, even stone walls were crushed or scorched. Bodies, or pieces of them, lay flung throughout; no more were found alive. In the marketplace, broken pieces of pottery lay side by side with crushed melons and severed arms, legs, and heads. Bread turned stale next to trails of human intestines, spilled stew mixed with gargoyle and elven blood. Working in grim silence, they gathered up every human, elf, gargoyle and troll remnant they could find, making four gory piles in the town center. Once they were certain they'd retrieved as much as they could, nine weary and horrified people gathered together to share their grief and rage; to give the dead some overdue respect. Jourdain stumbled through a short prayer, his voice rising and falling from an angry cry to a hoarse whisper. Aldara reached out to grasp his hand as he came to a stop in mid- sentence, unable to find the words to continue. She pulled him back, then glanced over towards Mulder. "Give them a funeral pyre the entire Realm will see and remember, Mage," she said, each word clipped and precise. Mulder stepped forward, waving the others back. Closing his eyes, he began to concentrate, mumbling sing-song words under his breath. As his body began to glow a brilliant shimmering blue, he raised his hands and pointed. Flashes of lightning struck out of a clear blue sky, each striking one of the mounds causing them to burst into flames. Blue sparks lanced out of Mulder's outstretched fingers, mingling with the white light from the sky and the red of the fires. Four rainbow columns rose vertically, illuminating the darkening sky. One more shouted command from Mulder's glowing form and the flames exploded upwards, forcing the observers to shield their eyes. Another series of thunderclap-like explosions deafened their ears followed by sudden silence. Scully and the others slowly unshielded their eyes to find four perfect blackened circles of ground where there the bloody piles of flesh had been - and Mulder kneeling between them, his head buried in his arms. - - - - - Fox Mulder sat on a tree-stump a few feet away from the rest of the camp. Since no one had been able to stomach the idea of remaining in the village, even though there was no sign of the Destroyers, they had led the horses down the river into the woods. Walking in silence, they continued past nightfall, continued until the stench of Wide River was cleared from the air. The camp had been set in a small grove of elms, each member of the troop doing his part without uttering a word. Dinner had been prepared and forced down, all knowing the sustenance was necessary, each nearly choking on every bite. Two of the guards were keeping a nervous watch, while the others settled into small tents, pretending to sleep. Mulder hadn't even bothered with the attempt. Instead he had slipped off into the night like a shadow. "Mulder?" Scully came up quietly behind him, pressing a hand onto his shoulder. He shrugged it away, moving swiftly to his feet and taking a couple steps away from her. "Mulder!" she said again, a very slight tremble in her voice. He was silent for one long moment, but just before she started to speak again, he pivoted to face her. In the moonlight, his eyes were dark cavities, the arching lines of his cheekbone stretched tight and hard, his jaw jutted forward. His voice was icy cold. "All this power, Scully." Lifting his hand he threw a sphere of blue light up into the air, which fragmented into a rain of glittering sparks at a wave of his arm. "Yet all I can do are parlor tricks." "Mulder, you can do more than parlor tricks. You know that!" She fought for the right words, not even certain what it was she wanted to say. "You were the one who took this seriously. I kept telling myself it wasn't real, that it was a daydream that I'd wake up from like it never happened. If things had gone my way, we wouldn't even be here. I don't know if we can help these people the way the Prophecy says, I only know that we have to try." She reached out to touch his arm, restraining him as he tried again to pull away. "How can such things exist Scully?," he spoke abruptly. "I thought I'd looked into the face of evil before: serial killers, vampires and werewolves, men who experiment on children... But this?" He laughed bitterly. "Yet, I can't help wondering why I am surprised. You know what my first thought was, Scully, when we walked through those gates? I felt like a WWII American soldier walking into a Nazi concentration camp. In an odd sort of way, things make more sense here: evil wears its own face. In our world evil sometimes wears a pleasant disguise." "Evil wears the same face everywhere, Mulder, sometimes you just have to look harder to see it. It feels hopeless right now, I know. But we've beaten it before, we just have to hold onto the belief that we can do so again." She knew she was driven more by rage than confidence, but the battle lines had been drawn. After what they'd seen that day, there was simply no walking away. "I wish I could be sure of that," he replied. "There are no assurances, but we still have to try." She closed the distance between them, and looked up into his shadowed eyes. "Together." "Scully...Dana..." he brushed the hair back from her face, caressing her cheek gently. "I'm here" she answered softly, closing her hand over his and pressing the palm against her lips. Their eyes met and clung, the world around them dissolving as he finally let the mental barriers down and drew her in. For a timeless instant they stood together, minds entwined, bodies separated by a few inches of cloth and air. Then, groaning aloud, he roughly pulled her up against him and claimed her mouth in a demanding kiss. Blood pounding through her veins, she reached up to twine her arms around his neck. He ground his lips into hers, she pressed upwards for more. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, she sucked on it, seizing hold with her teeth. Gasping for breath, he released her mouth, then assaulted her face and neck, kissing every inch of skin along her forehead, nose, cheekbones, jaw and throat. Twisting in his grasp, she returned kiss for kiss, licking the stubbled skin along his jaw, nibbling at the velvety skin of his cheek, biting at his lips as they brushed over hers. Her body was warm and vibrant in his arms, every curve an invitation. She sighed low and deep in her throat as he closed probing fingers over a breast, a hip, a thigh. Digging one hand into the hair on the back of his neck, she drew the other down the length of his spine, pressing it into the small of his back. Then curving it downwards to hold him still, she rotated her hips to grind her pelvis against his, sealing their bodies together. "Dana," he murmured her name over and over, in a silky, yet raspy voice, edged with desire. The sound of it in her ear, his breath hot against her skin, made her heart race even faster. Desire flooding her, she began to pull at his clothes, frustration mounting as she struggled with the still unfamiliar Realm-style fastenings. He moved to help her, dropping the mage-robe to the ground, then yanking the tunic off his head to cast it aside. The white cotton shirt he was wearing underneath was open to his navel, and she pressed her hands and her mouth against the bare flesh of his chest, touching and tasting the heated smoothness of his skin, rubbing her fingers through the hairs, tonguing his nipples until they hardened. He buried his face in the hair on the top of her head, deeply breathing in the smell of her, his hands working quickly to undo her belt and lift up her tunic. She lifted her mouth away from him to let him strip off her tunic and shirt in one swift move. Then she reciprocated, yanking his shirt out of his pants and over his head. He sank downwards until he was on his knees in front of her. Grasping her around the waist to pull her smooth abdomen up against his chin, he tilted his head upwards to let his eyes drink in the glorious sight of her. Her hair was loose, the doubled moonlight turning it into a soft red halo that swirled around her face. Even in the darkness, her eyes were a luminescent blue, her mouth a dream come true - full and red and trembling, her tongue teasing at her bottom lip. Her breasts were full and round, the tips already hardened by desire and contact with the cool night air. Sliding his hands up her back to close around her shoulders, he guided her downwards until she was perched on his bent knees, her own knees spread wide around his legs. In this position, her face was at an even level with his, and they savored the taste of each other, drinking in each other's mouths, one hungry kiss after another. Finally letting themselves free to touch and be touched, they explored every inch of each other's bodies with loving hands. Minds linked, each thought - each feeling - reverberated between them, allowing every desire to be satisfied the instant it was formed. Mulder pressed Dana down onto the forest floor, covering her with the heat of his body. She clutched him against her, wrapping her arms and legs tightly around him, as their mouths met and melded yet again. "Mmmmph," Scully muttered deep in her throat, suddenly pushing him upwards. "Dana, what?" he let go of her in surprise, a mix of frustration, desire, and sudden fear jolting through him, startling her. "No, no it's just a branch...in my back...," she flooded his mind with love and reassurance almost without conscious effort. Relaxing, he propped himself up on one elbow and reached beneath her to remove the offending twig while she twined her arms around his neck and arched her body up against his, leaving a space between her and the ground. Once he had tossed the branch aside, he leaned back up to a kneeling position, bringing her with him so that she was fully wrapped around him, legs around his waist, arms around his shoulders. Holding her there for a moment, he paused and closed his eyes. Nestled against him, Dana felt a shiver go up her spine, like a series of static charges. Angling her head to look into his face, her question was communicated without a word. His answer was equally nonverbal, the thoughts flowing from mind to mind like a water rippling in a brook. Understanding what he was trying to do, she closed her eyes, feeling the magic energy build within him as it flickered across his skin, brushing hers with electric tingles. Mulder watched intently as his abandoned mage's cloak floated up in the air, spread itself out, then settled to the ground. Another rush of power charged though his mind, and hers, while the thin cloak doubled, tripled, expanded in thickness until it was like a soft blue mattress suspended just above the forest floor. With the release of a final bolt of power their coupled bodies began to rise into the air, eliciting a small squeal of surprise from Dana. Mulder tightened his grip around her, laughing with a rare unguarded joy. The beauty of that sound filled Dana's heart with happiness as he guided them down into the center of the overgrown cloak. She sighed with pleasure as her back hit the soft fabric, delighting in the pressure of his body on hers. In moments they were again lost in each other, stroking, touching, sharing, loving. The remaining clothes were discarded almost without thought, Mulder tossing the last boot aside as he buried his mouth in the center of her pleasure, breathing in the essence of her, even as her ecstasy flooded his senses, bringing his own desire to a fever pitch. Dana felt his burgeoning need mixed intrinsically with her own. Reaching down to gently drag him up across her body, she urged him down into her, both nearly sobbing with relief as he filled her. She could feel her own moisture and heat as it cradled him, he could feel his own throbbing strength as it penetrated her. He fed her pleasure back to her, and she returned it to him, each sensation multiplying; their love and desire feeding upon each other until their minds shattered apart and reformed, joined and linked, becoming no longer two separate beings, but purely one. - - - - - Prince Andalor spurred his pony ahead, laughing into the wind as he outpaced his escort. Ignoring their pleas, he raced ahead, expertly guiding his pony into the trees. It wasn't as though he didn't know every inch of the estate like the back of his hand. He'd explored these woods many times; he knew every tree, every stone, every stream. This was his home, and he desperately needed some time alone to think. The weight of being heir to the Realm was sometimes frightening, especially to an eight year-old boy who had seen both his parents die. Sometimes he dreamed about their deaths, reliving every horrible moment in perfect detail. Much as he enjoyed his photographic memory, there were moments when was a more of a curse than a blessing. The foreign magician understood as no one else did, Andalor had seen the knowledge and pain flicker in his oddly-colored eyes. Actually, it was because of the two foreigners - the two Travellers - that he was busily ducking his guards and tutors. If the Travellers were here, it meant that the Time of the ancient Prophecy was finally at hand. Already, people were dying, suffering throughout the Realm, and Andalor knew deep down inside that things were only going to get worse. His tutors had tried to shield him, to pretend that things were all right, but Andalor was good at hearing things he wasn't supposed to. And while the others might lie smoothly, Reinald was a terrible liar. The mage would fidget terribly whenever he tried to keep something from the Prince - rub at his nose, bite on his bottom lip, mess with the hem of his robe. No, whatever they might say, Andalor knew the Time was at hand. The young Prince just wasn't sure what he should do about it. Once he was certain he had left his pursuers far behind, the fair-haired child slid down of his pony, and led the animal through the underbrush, heading unerringly for one of his favorite spots. Breaking through a thicket of pines, Andalor sighed with pleasure as he saw the small waterfall trickling down the edge of a small incline, a small pool formed at its base. Tying the pony to a nearby tree, he yanked off his boots as he ran, laughing as he waded into the water. He splashed around for a few moments, just enjoying the sense of freedom, before he decided to go back to shore and settle down to figure out a plan of action. Just as he was about to climb onto land, a sudden movement caught the corner of his eye and he stopped in mid-stride. "Hello?" he called out, glancing around him as his hand felt for the small dagger held in a loop of his belt. But before his fingers could close upon the hilt, there was a sudden flash of light from the forest. The bright blue beam struck the water, freezing it into solid form, turning ripples of liquid into carved flows of stone. A sharp cry of dismay barely escaped Andalor's lips as his body shimmered and glowed, slowly transmuting into a marbled statue: silent, motionless, and cold. End Chapter 7 ========================================== Chapter Eight - Part One If there had been a morning in his life that Mulder had been happier, he couldn't remember it. Looking down at the sleeping form of his partner, he felt a fulfillment, a satisfaction and a happiness that he had never known. The hell they had shared yesterday had given way to paradise in the night. Clothed in darkness, sheltered by starlight, they had removed the last of the barriers between them. Their lovemaking had been both tender and fevered, measured and passionate. It was everything either of them had ever fantasized in lonely darkness or in cold light. To be sure, he still feared the negative aspects of the life- bond - now more than ever, with the danger that surrounded them. But he was starting to realize the immensity of the joy that same bond could bring. For the thousandth time in the past few hours, he wished that he could just go off somewhere with Dana, to be free to explore each other, to get to know each other better in this new way. The danger to the Realm precluded all possibility of that happening now. After what they had seen yesterday, everyone's personal agenda was going to have to wait until the fate of the Realm had been decided. My timing's always been lousy, Mulder thought. "Oh, I wouldn't say that," whispered Scully, looking up at him with laughter and love in her eyes. Even before her mind had fully formed the thought, he had dipped his head to claim her mouth, deepening the kiss as he tightened the arm that was around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him. "Mulder, it's almost dawn," she murmured, moving her head a bit to give him better access to the sensitive skin of her neck and throat. "We should get dressed and get back to camp." "Yes, we really should," he breathed. "Just - not yet...." - - - - - "Aldara! Wake up!" Jourdain's urgent whisper carried into her tent and the warrior was awake in an instant. She poked her head through the tent flaps. "What is it?" she demanded, knowing that he would have a good reason for summoning her before first light. Or at least he'd better. "The Mage Mulder is missing, as is Scully. Their tent hasn't been slept in all night. The guards keeping watch said they entered the woods soon after everyone retired last night, and no one has seen them since. I'm getting worried. Anything could have happened. But I don't want to alarm the others, not until I'm sure I have to." "What's your plan?" "Come with me and help me search. Your eyes are sharper than mine, especially in the dark." She peered into his face. He did seem anxious. She knew Scully's capabilities and was inclined to think that the foreign woman was more than able to take care of herself in any eventuality. But she knew Jourdain was feeling responsible for the safety of the pair, and she respected that. She nodded. "All right. Which way did they go?" Quietly the two of them slid out of camp, choosing an overgrown track which followed the course of the river. Not daring to call out for fear of attracting unwanted attention, they relied on Aldara's sharp eyes and ears in their search. The only sounds she heard were Jourdain's mutterings, a combination of prayers and threats to the gods that Mulder and Scully would be found safely. It was perhaps because of those mutterings that she did not hear the pair for whom they were searching until they had almost blundered into them. Aldara, not surprisingly, spotted them first. "It would appear they are in little danger, Jourdain," she said dryly in her softest whisper. "In fact, they appear to be in a truly enviable state of health." Jourdain looked over the top of her head, and grunted softly. Taking her sleeve, he pulled her back up the path for a distance of some fifty yards, then sat. She settled down beside him. "I'm loathe to interrupt, but we may have to - we need to be on the road soon," he said. "I never thought - well, it's hard to remember that foreign mages may take a wife, may have a life-bond. I hope that didn't embarrass you, Aldara," he said, a little embarrassed himself. Noting the shake of her head, he continued, "Gods, I miss that." Realizing what he had just said, he turned to her, eyes wide, stumbling in his effort to explain himself. "Nay, nay, not THAT! Well, not that exactly. It's just -" Giving up, he decided to start again. "You know I was married, that my wife died some years ago," he said softly. "After a while, you give up on the idea that you can have that kind of happiness again. We weren't life- bonded, as those two, but we were happy enough. I miss it. Not so much that, the coupling." He inclined his head in the general direction of where they had found Mulder and Scully. Then he smiled, a little guiltily. "Well, yes, that too. But especially the closeness. There are just times when - " he sighed. "Have you ever thought of perhaps finding another?" Aldara asked. She, too, sometimes ached for the closeness of a lover, but had given up on the idea herself. How many men wanted a half-breed female warrior for a lover? There had been times when she was with Jourdain when she was almost sure that he - but then, her experience in matters of the heart was so limited, she may have misinterpreted a kind word for more than it was. He was silent for a long while. "Sometimes, yes. But I'm not exactly young. And I'm a soldier, which means I'm in a dangerous profession and I'll never be wealthy. Between age, battlescars and nature, I'm not much to look at. I have little to offer a woman." "Well, that would depend on what a woman is looking for, wouldn't it?" Aldara turned to look at him, a little shyly, hoping to see some encouragement. Tentatively, she continued, "Any woman looking for someone strong, and courageous, and honorable; someone dependable, and faithful, and honest, would be very happy with someone like you." Jourdain was very still, except for the pounding of his heartbeat, so loud that surely she could hear it. Almost inaudibly, he whispered, "Would you know of anyone like that?" A gentle hand stroked his cheek. "I might," she whispered back, smiling. - - - - - The sun was just coming over the horizon, turning the river to a ribbon of pink and gold, when Mulder and Scully started reluctantly making their way back to camp. They hadn't gone far when they came upon an extraordinary sight. Jourdain, the rough grizzled warrior, was holding Aldara in his lap as carefully as if he thought she might break, as firmly as if he thought she might disappear. They were whispering. Her hand was caressing his cheek, his occasionally reached down to touch her hair, her throat, her face, as if to ensure himself that she was real. "Sorry, are we interrupting?" Mulder said softly. The two sprang away from each other, quite red-faced, feeling incredibly awkward in front of the Mage and his life- bondmate. "I'm afraid we have to get going and break camp. I sympathize - you have no idea how much I sympathize,' Mulder said, and then was amazed when the two experienced warriors broke into giggles. "Oh, we have an idea," said Aldara, Jourdain not trusting himself to speak. The two led the way back to camp. Mulder and Scully lagged a little way behind. "What do you think all that's about?," he asked Scully. From her vantage point this morning, Scully had had a better view of the trail, and knew very well what their giggles were all about. She smiled up at him. "Probably nothing." Within a minute or two, they were back in camp, which had sprung into life. Pots filled with water and pans with meat strips were on the cookfires, and the soldiers were breaking down the tents and getting them packed on the horses. Jourdain and Aldara, once again just two soldiers, took charge of the remainder of the breakfast preparation. They had all taken seats around the fire. As Scully passed Mulder a mug of tea and a plate, she mentally felt him recoil. Looking up into his face, she saw that he had gone white. "Excuse me." He paced a few yards off, and turned his back to the group. He appeared to be staring into the distance. After a several minutes, he turned to face them, his eyes ranging over the small clearing. He nodded, his eyes distant for a few more minutes, then he seemed to focus and walked slowly back to the fire. He spoke in a low voice. "There's been trouble at the castle. The Prince was discovered to be missing yesterday afternoon when his pony came back to the castle without him. They've had search parties out all night to try to find him. They finally found him this morning. Apparently, he has had some kind of a spell cast against him." Jourdain and Aldara cursed vociferously and Tarnor looked ready to burst into tears. Scully had already picked up quite a bit from her link with Mulder, so she knew before he made his announcement. Picturing the beautiful, vibrant child turned into a cold, hard mockery of his living self, she shuddered. Mulder waited for their outbursts to die down, then continued. "Reinald, of course, is devastated. No one knows who did it, and the news is not yet widely known. But Reinald said that those who have heard about it are getting restless. They want someone to blame. There have been angry mobs gathering at the castle, shouting for Reinald's head. We have to get back there as fast as we possibly can. The ride back will take too long. The Realm may be torn apart by revolution and anarchy by then. Faced with no other alternative, Reinald and I are going to build a Gate." "What can we do?" asked Jourdain. Right now, he needed to do something, to channel the incredible anger he felt. He knew Aldara would feel the same way. "Take charge of the other men. And the horses, especially - they won't like all the noise and lightning and such. The last thing we're going to need is my being distracted at a critical moment by a stampede." Scully looked at him. "This is dangerous, isn't it?" He knew better than to try to lie. "Yes, it can be," he admitted. "But I've done it before and I know a lot more now than I did then. I'll be all right. I'm more worried about what we'll find once we get back." "I know. Mulder, that poor little kid. All right, what can I do?" she asked. "Keep everyone clear, no matter what. You, too." He looked at her, not the way he had looked at her in all the months and weeks that went before, but in the way he had started looking at her since last night. He sent her a message, for only each other's minds to know. By the way her mind caressed his, the way her face glowed, the way her eyes grew slightly moist, he knew she had received it. "Okay now, back up, and keep that area over there clear." He indicated the area where the tents had been pitched the night before. He walked over the center of the area and established his connection with Reinald. In some ways, in spite of what he had said to Scully, having helped to build a Gate before was not a lot of comfort. In the previous situation, it was their only chance to escape death. He had been so disoriented and shell-shocked by the fall through the Vortex and the attack of the soul-eaters that he had not fully comprehended the dangers involved, which now he understood only too well. He also understood better now the enormity of their task and the price he would pay physically and mentally, even if everything went as it should. He braced himself, and sent Reinald the signal. Within seconds, he was surrounded by the crackling white and blue power flames, and he staggered with their force. Scully gasped as white fire danced from his fingertips, blue flames coursed down his legs. Although he had shielded himself, because of their special bond she felt the incredible strength it took for him to control this energy. Concentrating all his efforts, he drove the power deep in the earth, anchoring it with the professional twist Reinald had taught him. Panting, he squatted down and took a couple minutes to recover, realizing that if he passed out during the construction of the Gate, he would die and would probably kill Reinald, as well. When he felt strong enough, he stood and centered himself once again. Then, he seized the top of the huge column of fiery energy with his mind, bending it and plunging it into the ground. Taking a shaky breath, he stepped into the center of the arch he had created, and sent the energy back to Reinald. A minute later, the arch began to cloud, then slowly focus into sharp definition, and Reinald was there, calling to them. Mulder summoned the soldiers, who had covered the horses' heads with blankets to prevent as much as possible their becoming frightened. They led the rearing, snorting beasts through the arch to the castle courtyard. Next went Tarnor, then Jourdain and Aldara. Wearily, he walked over the Scully and took her hand. "Speechless, Scully? That's not like you," he teased. "You did that before? Built a Gate like that when we were in the woods? You're right, I am speechless," she said. "That was incredible." He gathered her close, then cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. "It was much more incredible this time. I'm surprised I had the energy, after last night," he observed. "If you weren't so obviously exhausted right now, I'd get you for that." She smiled up at him, took his hand, and led him through the Gate to Fairwood Keep. - - - - - When they had all arrived back through the portal, the soldiers took charge of the horses and led them off in the direction of the stable. Grimly, the others followed Reinald to his chambers, every so often hearing the shouts and clamor of the mob outside the castle gates. In his chamber at last, they sat at the hearth while Reinald updated them. "Did you tell them the nature of the spell on the Prince?" he asked Mulder. "No. Scully knows, I think. I thought I'd wait until we got back here and they could see for themselves." Mulder paused while Grejor served him tea. "Are you any closer to knowing who did it?" "I wish I were. Ask most of the people gathered outside the gates and they'll tell you I did it." Reinald shook his head, a resigned expression on his face. "I can't blame them really. It's the most logical solution. Besides, they're frightened. The harvests the last several years have been poor, not enough to cause famine, but poor nonetheless. There have been intermittent plagues, especially among the young. And now the attacks of the beasts from the Dark Realm. It doesn't take a Mage to tell them that the Prophecy is being fulfilled before their very eyes. They know as well as anyone what's coming - that it could be the end for all of us, for our world. They've looked to Mages from time immemorial for protection, and all too often that trust was abused by magicians who used their powers for selfish or spiteful reasons. Their trust has been eroded. Now, it appears a Mage is responsible for harming their Prince. Naturally, they'd be after my head." Reinald's voice grew rough with emotion, and unshed tears glinted in his eyes. "Oh, Andalor," he whispered. "Where is he now?" Mulder asked gently. Reinald gestured to Grejor, who opened the door to his master's bedchamber. The Prince stood in the center of the room, frozen for all time in stone. Mulder and Scully looked in first, followed by Jourdain, Tarnor and Aldara. The five returned to their chairs with identical expressions of sorrow and anger. "What can we do?" asked Scully. Reinald pulled himself together. "There's so much to do I hardly know where to begin. Jourdain, Aldara - our enemies without and within will lose no time in taking advantage of this. As it is, word of the Prince's fate reached the people suspiciously quickly, leading me to believe that factions inside the castle spread the news. The ever-bickering factions and a panicked populace would be enough to deal with. But we can hardly expect the attacks from the Dark Realm's forces to stop. Therefore, we have two battlefronts, Jourdain, my old friend. And I believe one of your first duties will be to arrest and imprison me." "Nay! I'll never do it!" declared Jourdain. "No one can make me. The idea - that you could harm a hair of the Prince's head - it's ridiculous!" "Thank you, Jourdain, your faith is appreciated, believe me. But when the time comes, arresting me is exactly what you must do." Reinald looked gravely at his Captain and friend. "There will be revolution if it appears that the Prince's attacker will not be brought to justice. As it is, there was almost a riot when the magically sensitive in the crowd sensed the construction of a Gate - I'm sure they thought I was making my escape. In any event, if there is revolution, we will never be able to defend against the evil creatures of the Dark Realm, and we will be doomed for certain. Aldara, you will be in charge of keeping order internally - preventing riots, keeping the factions and the noble houses in line as much as possible, reassuring the people. Keep Jourdain abreast of your activities. Jourdain, you need to take charge of preparing our troops for war with the forces of the Dark Realm." He stopped, noting the warrior's expression. "I do realize that what I'm asking for is nearly impossible. Through Mulder and Tarnor, I saw the unspeakable slaughter and devastation at Wide River. But those creatures must have some kind of weakness, or we must have some form of strength that can be used successfully against them. I want you to find our strength or their weakness and draw up a strategy for using what you find. You are to have all the resources of the Realm at your disposal, including the cooperation of Mage Mulder, Scully, and my apprentices, Tarnor and Grejor. Do you understand?" Grimly, Jourdain nodded. "Good." Reinald paused, letting his head drop back against the chair. The Mage's skin was almost gray from exhaustion. Between being up all night coordinating the search for the Prince, the emotional drain of the Prince's fate, and building the Gate, the toll on him had been heavy. "You may all leave, all but Mulder and Scully. Grejor, you too are dismissed." "Mage, is there nothing I can help you with? You are exhausted," Grejor protested. "No, lad. You're a good boy, but I'll be resting soon. I just need a few words with the Travellers first. I'll call you if I need you." Sullenly, Grejor mumbled a farewell, then left the chamber. When he had gone, Reinald turned to Mulder and Scully. "Well, I see another part of the Prophecy has been fulfilled! One that for a change brings me great joy." He smiled benignly at the pair. Scully sensed Mulder grow tense beside her. Reinald sensed it too. "Even now you haven't told her, Mulder?" he chided, shaking his head. "Told me what?" asked Scully, looking at Mulder. "Everything happened so fast! Really, Scully, I would have told you on the ride back today, if there had been a ride back. I didn't want to tell you before because..." Mulder hesitated. "Well, several reasons, I guess. I was having a hard time dealing with it, and I thought you'd have an even harder time. And I didn't want to put any pressure on you, I wanted you to make up your own mind, and - " "Told me WHAT?" She demanded. "Um...Reinald, would you - ?" Mulder looked almost desperately at Reinald, who chuckled, then nodded. "Mulder must be forgiven for not telling you, my dear," Reinald said. "I'm not sure he believed me when I first told him, and then the idea frightened him badly - " He noticed Mulder's look of shock. "Well, it did, did it not? Yes, I thought so. Anyway, try not to be too hard on him. He has a point when he says that he didn't want to influence you in any - " Scully's voice was icy. "If one of you doesn't tell me what's going on, NOW, I'm going to throw a little Mage-storm of my own!" Mulder and Reinald looked at the irate woman and then at each other. "Oh, I'm sorry. Well," said Reinald. "You and Mulder share a life-bond. Your auras predetermined it. Once you met, there was no stopping it." "What exactly is a life-bond?" Now that her questions were being answered, Scully's voice had lost its edge. "It's the closest kind of relationship that exists, Dana," explained Mulder. "It's why we had those visions when we first arrived, before Corvay taught us how to control them. It's why we always know where the other is. That's very unusual here. It's not because of your psi ability either, although that kind of makes it all the stronger. Mostly it's because of this life-bond thing." "Mulder, why in heaven's name didn't you tell me?" asked Scully. He looked down, not wanting to meet her eyes, partly ashamed of not telling her about the life-bond, partly ashamed of his fear. Seeing Mulder's difficulty, Reinald stepped in. "There are aspects of the life-bond which are rather...daunting," explained Reinald. "I believe Mulder had trouble with the concept that the life-bondmates are less than a whole, singly. He feared losing you, and losing himself in the process." "I just emotionally hared out," admitted Mulder softly, deep pain in his eyes. Also in his mind, and she was getting the full force of it, as she gasped and her eyes filled with tears. "Oh! Dana, I'm sorry." He shielded, and her pain diminished. "Anyway, thinking about the life-bond brought back all the hell of your abduction and illness and all my self-destructiveness and desperation then. I just didn't want to deal with the potential for that much devastation again." Even if she had not just shared his pain, she would have known the effect that Reinald's explanation of the life-bond would have on him. He was only too well aware of the fact that without her, he was not whole. He hardly needed some life- bond to reinforce it. And she was well aware of his fear for losing her. Even in their own world, without telepathy or empathic links, that fear had been communicated to her in a variety of ways in almost every case they had investigated together. "And now?" she asked, her eyes still bright with tears. "Nothing's really changed, Mulder. Can you deal with that potential now?" "Now I know the extent of the joy, too," he said simply, his voice rich with feeling. "And I'm willing to risk the pain for the incredible joy that this brings. That you bring." Mulder searched her face. "But I wanted you to choose freely, to decide to enter into this relationship without the pressure of knowing that it was destined." "So are we life-bonded now?" asked Scully. "How did it happen?" She looked at Mulder, who in turn looked at Reinald. "In a way, you always were, from birth. Once you met and spent time together, it was - I'm sorry, the language spell really can't cope with this, your language doesn't have the words - "forged", is the closest word you have. The bond becomes increasingly strong and close over time. And once it has been - oh, the language problem again -"validated", it becomes inviolate, unbreakable, unassailable, with even more closeness. Yes, now that your bond has been validated, it shows quite clearly in your auras. Scully's now carries a little of Mulder's blue, and Mulder's has some green and just a touch of brown. Both absolutely unique. You may still need some training in dealing with some of the feelings you're going to have, especially now that you're validated. Corvay can help with that, if there's time." "Time is something we're running short of. What do you want us to do, Reinald?" asked Mulder gravely. "Find out who did this to the Prince," Reinald replied without hesitation. "I appreciate the fact that you don't think it was me. Obviously it was someone with a knowledge of magic, but that could be any of hundreds - every village has its Mage. Yesterday was a Market Day, so there were countless numbers of strangers within the castle gates. Some Mage in the pay of one of the noble houses, perhaps a friend of Drellor, who knows? But we must find the person who cast the spell. In the language of the casting we will find the only clues we're likely to get for the key to removing the spell." "Is the Prince still alive? Can he hear us, sense us?" asked Scully. She didn't know which would be worse, not sensing at all, or being able to sense those around you, but not be able to move a muscle or communicate in any way. "I believe with all my heart and mind that he is still alive, but is in some form of stasis," replied Reinald. "As to the other .. I go in, I talk to him, I try to reassure him, but ..." His eyes filled with tears. "We'll do whatever we can," Mulder promised. "In our reality, this is the kind of thing we do for our work - investigating - and we're pretty good at it. Just keep your mind open to communication, especially if you're arrested and they won't let me see you. By the way, am I likely to be suspected of casting the spell on the Prince?" "There's been some talk, again I think it was generated by someone here in the castle," Reinald admitted. "But fortunately you were at too great a distance and with too many credible witnesses for anyone to take such talk seriously." He sagged. "I'm sorry, but I must rest now. Mulder, you should rest too for a few hours, to recover from building the Gate. You don't know when you're going to be called upon to use your powers, so you need to keep them in top form." "I'll do that, Reinald." As Mulder and Scully stood to leave, the Mage grabbed Mulder's sleeve and looked at him. The two communicated silently for a few moments, then Mulder nodded. "I'll remember," he said. After seeing Reinald safely to bed, the couple strolled wearily to their chamber. - - - - - "Mad at me?" He looked at her askance. The two had spoken little on their way from Reinald's quarters. Now they were back in their own chamber. The weather, perhaps sensing the mood of the Realm, had grown overcast and chilly, and they were glad for the fire that crackled merrily in the hearth, cheering the otherwise gloomy room. "I'll get over it. I do understand why you didn't tell me - but that doesn't mean I agree with it. When will you learn not to try to protect me all the time? No more, all right?" "No more," he agreed, a little too easily. Scully sighed. "Mulder, don't promise what you can't deliver. I'd be satisfied with a promise that you will in the future at least ATTEMPT not to be so overprotective of my body and my psyche." "Okay. I will try as hard as I can not to be so overprotective. How's that?" He looked at her hopefully. "Friends again?" In spite of herself, Scully smiled. "I guess that's the best I can reasonably expect." She closed the distance between them to put her arms around him. He bent his head, his lips finding hers in a kiss that began chaste and sweet and gradually became more demanding, as he cupped the rounded softness of her bottom and pressed her against him. While she could still think straight, Scully broke away from him. "You need to go to bed, Mulder." "I intend to." He kept moving toward her, his hands tangled in her hair, raining little kisses on her face, backing her up until she was sandwiched between his body and the bed. "Those were Reinald's orders. You're supposed to get some sleep," she said, with mock severity. "I will, I usually do..." Mulder took her hair and freed it from its practical braid to cascade around her shoulders. "...afterwards." He took her by the waist and boosted her onto the bed, standing with her knees on either side of him. Unlike that first night so many weeks ago, now they did not avoid each other's eyes. No more did they have to hide the ferocious hunger reflected there; rather, they gloried in the implicit promise. No more did they have anything they had to hide; they were eager to share everything they were or needed or wished. Her arms curved around his neck and she leaned close to trace his lips with her tongue before plunging it between them to kiss him deeply. He removed the belt securing her tunic and ran his hands between her shirt and her skin, savoring the warmth and softness they found there. He breathed as if he had been running. His hands came out from beneath her shirt to cup her face. His expression became grave, and he looking deeply into her eyes. "Do you think you can manage going through the rest of your life being bonded with me?" He asked the question seriously. She knew he expected a serious, considered answer. Her reply was in her head, and then it was in his, too, before she could bring the words to her lips. She was suddenly afraid that maybe it was the wrong thing to say, that she had said too much, or too little.... "No, that's perfect," he said, softly. "Me, too, Dana." "You know," she said with a hint of a smile, "if you had said "bonded TO you" my answer might have been different." He returned her smile. "I knew what I was doing. I chose my words deliberately." She relaxed and stroked his cheek. "This instant communication is a little scary. Unless I think to shield, before I even say something, you know what it is. An unguarded thought could really hurt. I can see that this could have its downside." "Yes, but right now let me show you the upside," he murmured. He buried his face in the curve between her neck and her shoulder, nibbling on what, for her, had always been an especially sensitive erogenous area. His hands had again slipped under her shirt to caress the skin down the length of her spine and back up again, just the way she had been hoping he would. She tightened her legs around his waist and gasped softly. "Show me more." --------------- =============================================== Chapter Eight - Part Two Scully awoke when Lita came in to light the torches and lay the supper table. Placing a cautionary finger to her lips, she extricated herself from Mulder's limbs and reached for the shirt so hastily discarded a few hours before. She pulled on the long, full garment and slid out of bed. She and Lita went down the length of the room to stand near the hearth. "Try not to disturb him, he needs to rest. Leave the torches unlit for now. Just set the food out, in case he wakes up hungry. I'll take care of anything else." Lita regarded her with an impish grin. "Congratulations, Traveller Scully." Scully looked puzzled. "For what, Lita?" "On your validation, of course," she smiled. "What is this, written on a billboard somewhere?" Scully groaned. "First Jourdain and Aldara see us and then Reinald knows and now you know. Is there anyone who doesn't know? "It's real hard to keep secrets here. It's in your aura," she explained. "My people are very sensitive to auras, and I'm more sensitive than most, more so than many Mages, it's been said. Anyway, you clearly share some Mage aura now. It's no wonder he needs his rest," she teased. Scully chuckled. "Thanks for your good wishes, Lita. Why don't you take the rest of the evening off, I don't think we'll be needing anything else. See you in the morning." She watched as the elf quickly finished laying the table in preparation for dinner, and departed. I wonder what it's going to be like having no secrets and damn little privacy, Scully thought, as she pulled on the rest of her clothes. Tenderness washed over her as she looked at Mulder on her way out. He was sprawled across the bed on his stomach, the bedclothes twisted around him, hair falling into his eyes, dreaming - dreaming of her! She smiled. Mentally she pulled down a light shield, blocking his dreams from her view. His dreams, at least, should be his own. She gently closed the door behind her. She found Corvay in his workroom as she expected. "My dear, come in, come in! Congratulations on your validation!" Scully's eyes rolled heavenward. She resignedly shook her head, then she accepted his salutation with good grace. "I'm so happy for you. And for us, as this helps to further the Prophecy. Maybe we have a chance now. Please, have some tea and tell me why you're here, visiting an old elf like me when you could be with your bondmate." Corvay scurried about, finding the tea things and a couple of stools. "You knew all along about this life-bond - you even hinted about it when I first told you about the visions," Scully accused, curious. "Why didn't you tell me?" "It wasn't my place to tell you. Besides, Reinald asked me not to. He knew that Mulder was having a hard time with it, and unless it was absolutely essential to your welfare for you to know, he thought it best to just give him some time to come to terms with it. I agreed. So, now you're validated! Obviously this did not come to pass in the usual manner..." he looked at her expectantly. "Since I'm still not certain exactly what is meant by validation, I have no idea what the usual manner is," said Scully. "Oh, well, with validation there's a long period of preparation and training, then a very long and involved traditional ritual. This is followed by the families of the bondmates accompanying the couple to a special dwelling, and performing yet another long, complicated ceremony, and then leaving them there for several days. During that time the validation takes place." The little elf's nose twitched and his face was alight with curiosity. "I'm still just guessing to a certain extent, but if validation means what I think it means, no, it was nothing like that," Scully admitted, smiling. "I think it's something that Mulder and I have consciously avoided for a long time. We each decided independently that it would complicate things too much. Since we've been here, though, there have been changes. We've become closer, but - I don't know - I guess we've still been avoiding the issue. But last night, after all the horror at Wide River, we needed each other so badly, it just happened. It just seemed right - to affirm life - after so much death and destruction. Actually, that's why I'm here to see you. I had to do something in Wide River, something I didn't want to have to do, something that has been haunting me. I need your advice." Her smile had transformed into a troubled frown. "May I enter as a Healer and touch that memory, Scully?" he said formally, quite serious now. "You could tell me about it, but it would be preferable if I saw it as it actually happened. I must tell you though - you should know that this will also force you to see it again, to relive the moment actually, which will probably cause you some distress." She considered his request for a moment, thinking with a little wistfulness of the days when she was the only one with access to her mind. God, the last thing she wanted to do was to have to face those horrible moments again. She sighed, gathered all her courage, then she nodded. "Just relax." Corvay brought his stool next to hers, held her hand and was motionless for some time. When he finally broke contact several minutes later, both of their faces were wet with tears. "I'm so sorry, my dear. What a horrible experience. I don't think anything I could do could have prepared you adequately for that, not if I had had years to do it rather than weeks." "Corvay, did I do the right thing for that poor man?" Scully voice was still hoarse with grief and guilt. "Was there anything else I could have done?" "Nothing that would have changed the outcome for the poor devil. You were correct, there was no treatment for him. You had no option. You did precisely as I would have done. Sometimes the only thing a healer can do is offer a merciful death. That is doing your patient as much of a service as anything you can do in healing." "In my reality, healers are not permitted to do this. I can see both sides of the issue very clearly, in fact I accept some of the arguments against such action. But his suffering was so intense, and there was no purpose to it." The troubled expression remained on her face, her eyes still shimmering with tears. "The upcoming times are going to be filled with such situations Just know that what you are doing is right." He smiled sadly at her. She sniffed a little. "That helps, Corvay, it really does. I think I knew all along, but it helps to hear you say it." "I can help more, if you let me. I have a healing chant for such troubling thoughts - will you permit?" Shyly, she nodded. He held her hand lightly and thought rather than uttered the chant, the soothing words going deep into her very soul. He released her hand and let the words instill in her mind for a short time without distraction. Gradually, she returned to full awareness and smiled at him. "Better now, isn't it? Even your aura shines a bit brighter. Good, I'm glad an old being could help. Will you be in for your lesson tomorrow?" the tiny elf inquired. "I hope so. Things are happening so quickly. Have you seen the Prince?" "Yes." The little elf looked downcast again. "There's nothing I can do, not right now, anyway. Perhaps when a Mage has removed the spell, Andalor will need my assistance if his memories of the event have traumatized him, especially in view of his gift. As he is, I can do nothing." Scully nodded, knowing how much the admission probably hurt the soft-hearted elf. He was a Healer, he wanted nothing more than to stop the pain and the hurt, and sometimes it was not in his power. "Well, you've helped me. Corvay, thank you so much." Scully bent down and kissed him on the top of his head. "See you tomorrow," she smiled, as she stepped out into the dark garden. - - - - - Infuriated, Jourdain paced back and forth in Drellor's chambers. The revolting little man was smiling smugly, almost gloating. He had made a valid point and he knew it. "I admit I have never cared for Reinald. He is arrogant and obnoxious and uses his power for his own advancement, like so many Mages these days. Whether I think it was he that turned my nephew into such a deplorable condition is beside the point." He smiled nastily. "I happen to think that he did, but as I say, it is beside the point. What is to the point is that the Realm is in a state of terrible unrest, and only bringing the Prince's attacker to justice will quell the coming revolution." He paused to let his words sink in. "What is the point of bringing someone who is NOT the Prince's attacker to justice?" growled Jourdain. "Because nothing anyone can say will ever make me believe that Reinald knowingly did that child harm." Drellor shrugged. "First of all, it will prove to the Realm that the matter is in hand, and that no one can escape justice, no matter how powerful. That, in itself, is I believe a good enough reason to arrest Reinald without delay." His eyes narrowed as he saw the logic of his argument register with Jourdain. Much as the warrior did not want to admit it, Drellor's point was well taken. He had met with Aldara an hour ago, after she had had a chance to gather information from the mobs still camped outside and representatives of the noble houses and the other species of the Realm. The news was sobering. The Realm was teetering on the brink of collapse. Rumor ran rampant, fed by the factions who were eager to turn any situation to their advantage. Some factions were lining up behind Drellor, and a few were staying loyal to the Regent. Most were just fanning the flames of discontent and waiting for an opportunity to advance their own candidate to replace Reinald as Regent as soon as he was found guilty of putting the spell on the Prince. The populace was mostly concerned about the Prince and thirsting for justice for his enchanter. Aldara reported that Reinald had been correct - there was a lot of anti-Mage sentiment among the people, and they were terrified that the Prophecy was coming true. Drellor broke into Jourdain's thoughts. "Possibly, the spell was a mistake, maybe Reinald lost control of his power for a moment and inflicted harm when he was trying to do good. And now he is so consumed with guilt and regret that even he has blotted out the event from his memory." Drellor looked at Jourdain slyly. While the Royal Guard Captain might never admit to the possibility of Reinald harming the Prince deliberately, he might find the argument of a tragic mistake persuasive. He saw that he had made another direct hit. Again, Jourdain could not keep his expression neutral as he considered Drellor's suggestion. Not very likely, he thought, but just barely possible. He was under no illusions - he was not taken in by Drellor's act of rationality and devotion to the Realm. The man was scum, just out to get an enemy removed and himself named as Regent, so he would have control of the Realm. But Jourdain also knew how Drellor's arguments would sound to the factions and the people, if in fact he had not already broadcast them. Drellor was ready with his final salvo. "If, as you say, Reinald is completely innocent," he said earnestly, "what better opportunity for luring the malefactor into a state of security where he likely to err and reveal himself, than by Reinald's arrest? As the trial of Reinald proceeds, you can be waiting to trap the real enchanter." Jourdain stared at Drellor with distaste. Actually, he had had the same thought himself, he was ashamed to say. He strode over to within an inch of the pudgy little man, towering over him and purposely intimidating him as much as possible. "All right, Drellor, you have made your point. I go now to arrest my friend Reinald. But remember, one of those I shall be watching most closely is you!" He stomped over to the door and flung it open. Grejor almost fell into the room from the hallway, looking at Jourdain with terror. Jourdain snorted, now both of the other inhabitants of the room beneath his contempt. Growling, he strode out the door and down the hall. He stopped at the armory, and selected four guards to accompany him, then continued to Reinald's chambers, where he tapped on the door. Reinald himself answered. "Come in, my friend, I've been expecting you." He opened the door wide and stepped back to allow the Captain and his guards to enter. Jourdain's face was grave. "I'm sorry about this, Reinald. I would give all I have not to be doing this." "No, you're doing the right thing. But I have a few instructions for you." Reinald seemed to be taking his arrest calmly. The sleep he had had the past several hours seemed to have done him a lot of good. "First, I give you charge over the Prince. See that he is kept somewhere safe - the armory, your quarters, wherever. But he is never to be left alone. I don't think there will be any further attempts on him, but it pays to be safe. Secondly, see that news of my arrest is broadcast immediately. This might calm some of the people's fears. Make sure everyone knows that you were instrumental in my arrest - it is important that you are seen more as an administrator of justice than as my friend and ally. And third, do not allow Mulder to see me." Jourdain's eyes grew wide and he gasped. "What? Do you suspect him? Do you think he may try to harm you?" "No, no, nothing of the sort. Just the opposite, in fact. The purity of his aura would dismiss that thought, if nothing else did. No, if anyone is acting for totally unselfish motives, it is Mulder and Scully. But again, it is not wise for them to be seen as too closely allied with me. They invite speculation because they are foreigners to begin with, and his being a Mage also makes him suspect. They must be able to move about freely in order to find the person that enchanted the Prince; they won't be able to do that if they are dogged by my enemies who also suspect them. Between ourselves, if Mulder and I need to communicate, we can do so, but in a way so no one else will know. Can you do these things for me?" Reinald inquired. "Of course, Reinald. "Have you made any progress on the plans for our defense from the Dark Realm?" "I haven't had much chance. I have met with Drellor, who knows I am about to arrest you and is no doubt clapping his fat little hands for joy." Jourdain glowered. "I have also met with Aldara concerning the status of our internal enemies. She has things well in hand there," he said with some pride, which was not lost on Reinald. In spite of his predicament, the Mage smiled, understanding only too well the source of that pride. "She has also given me the beginnings of an idea for our strategy against the evil ones. I dare not say more until I have had time to think." Reinald nodded. "Then you appear to have things under control, insofar as that is possible. Trust no one, my friend - no one except Mulder, Scully, Tarnor and Aldara. Of them I can be certain; to my sorrow, no one else," he said sadly. Then his voice picked up some energy. "Now. I have had an idea. I suggest we put on a little demonstration. Put me in shackles." "But Reinald, there is no need for that!" "I know, but it will look good for the mob below. You will take me up to the battlements and make the announcement of my arrest, I will show them my shackles, and then you will take me to the dungeon - the most commodious cell, please, I do not wish unnecessary discomfort - remove the shackles and then you will lock me up. That should please the mobs and our other enemies and give you a little respite from them as well." Reinald smiled. "Anything worth doing is worth doing well, Jourdain." Jourdain motioned for one of the guards to shackle Reinald's wrists. "But loosely, mind! Belspar, you will stay behind here to look after the Prince until my return. No one is to enter other than myself, is that clear?" The guard saluted and took went into the bedchamber where the Prince stood. Then the little group started the long walk through the hallways and up to the battlements. - - - - - Scully arrived back at their chamber to find Mulder pulling on his breeches and shirt. "Reinald's been arrested," he announced without preamble. "He just contacted me." "What are you going to do?" Scully said, concerned. "For the moment, nothing," replied Mulder. "He's made it clear that he doesn't want me to visit him in jail. It's getting fairly late to do anything tonight, as far as real investigation goes. I thought maybe we could use this time to come up with a plan of action for tomorrow. And eat. I'm starving, for some reason." "The fact that you haven't eaten today may have something to do with that. Let me see what Lita left us." Scully stirred the pot. "Looks like a vegetable stew. Let me just stick it on the fire for a few minutes to warm up. That was interesting, what Reinald said about the poor harvests for the past few years. I had noticed a certain sameness to the diet, but I figured that's just what people ate here. I didn't realize that it might be because of food shortages." "We're guests here, Scully. I'm sure we would have been the last to feel any effects from food shortages. Their natural sense of hospitality would have made sure of that. Things must be getting worse, though; meals have been pretty skimpy lately. And if we're going to be mobilizing troops, there will probably be some form of rationing imposed." Scully stirred the stew, then dished it into thick earthenware bowls, passing one to him. "Mulder?" "Oh, thanks," he said, distracted. "I didn't get most of that. What are you thinking about?" She dipped her spoon into her bowl and began eating. "Trying to think of a way to go about investigating this," he replied. "We really don't have any authority here, so the cooperation we get will be pretty haphazard. From the little that Reinald has told me about all the various political and family and species factions, an outsider doesn't have a snowball's chance in Hell of figuring out what's going on with them. If the motive is purely political - someone out to remove the present authority and replace it with someone else - I think we're in trouble," Mulder said, frowning. "I agree. And from the little contact I've had with the noble houses and from what Aldara has said, I think the cooperation we can expect is somewhere between extremely limited and none," Scully said. "The thing is, Mulder, if the motive isn't political, what is it? I can't bring myself to believe that anyone here, not even the repulsive Drellor, would align himself with the forces of the Dark Realm. First, I don't think the creatures of the Dark Realm feel the need for an "inside man" - they probably think that this Realm is theirs for the taking any time they want to take it. Also, there would be communication problems, assuming the creatures speak a different language, and there's no reason why they wouldn't. So I think we can eliminate treason, consorting with the enemy, that kind of thing. Want more stew?" "Please." Mulder pushed his bowl forward for another helping, then leaned back in his chair. "All right. I agree. Treason is out. Politics is something we don't want to consider unless all else fails. So what's left?" Mulder counted on his fingers. "Greed. Not a very good motive, in my opinion. I haven't noticed evidence of any great wealth around here. Maybe it's a result of an agrarian economy and consecutive years of poor harvests, but I'd say the movers and the shakers here at the castle are no better off than the farmers and merchants and craftsmen. Besides which, with the forces of the Dark Realm camped on our doorstep, how long could anyone reasonably expect to stay wealthy? Or alive, for that matter. So I would have to eliminate greed as a viable motive. What else?" "Revenge?" suggested Scully. "We know there was bad blood between Drellor and Reinald. And we know that anti- Mage feeling is running high. Maybe we shouldn't be looking for someone who wanted to harm the Prince or change the order of succession. Maybe we should be looking for someone who's out to get Reinald." Mulder nodded slowly, considering her suggestion. "A personal motive. I like it, Scully. It would certainly be much easier to investigate. Okay, what else? What other personal motives should we be considering?" "Love, requited or otherwise. Since Mages don't indulge - present company excepted, of course - that seems unlikely." Scully grinned at Mulder. "Your turn." "Jealousy. But jealous of what?" Mulder looked puzzled. "Reinald has better than average magical powers, but that's a gift. It isn't reasonable to be jealous of that." "We may not be dealing with someone who's thinking reasonably," Scully observed. "Good point. What else is there to be jealous of? Attention maybe?" Mulder posed. "You know what strikes me?" asked Scully. "The timing. Why now? It would seem to be a really stupid time to try to take over the Realm, with the Dark Forces breathing down our necks. That's another reason I think this is personal, Mulder. As part of a plan for acquiring power or wealth, it's insane, it makes no sense at all. But if this is just some person acting out of anger or jealousy or frustration, then it does make sense." "Scully, you're right!" Mulder leapt to his feet and started pacing, just the way he had done so frequently back in his basement office at FBI headquarters a lifetime ago. "This makes it much easier. Now we just have to compile a list of suspects - people who would have reason to want to get back at Reinald for some personal reason, probably anger, revenge or jealousy. Or any ideas about who we can eliminate? We can't ignore the fact that someone without magical powers might have hired an unscrupulous Mage to do the dirty work, either, though I'd still lean towards someone with Mage ability - and quite a bit of it. I know from experience that a spell as complex as this one is not easy to build or use." "Well, I vote we eliminate Jourdain, Aldara and Tarnor for a start," she said. "First of all, they were with us in Wide River. I suppose that wouldn't prevent them from having hired someone, but still. I know Aldara pretty well. I'm aware she doesn't particularly like Mages, and that might be seen as a motive. But if she got angry, she'd slit Reinald's throat in a temper. She wouldn't plot, nor would she use an innocent kid to get back at him. It's just not her style." "I agree, one hundred percent. Having been on the receiving end of her temper, I know you're right. If she lost it, she'd be perfectly capable of doing a lot of damage before she came to her senses, but never something like this." Mulder's eyes narrowed as he thought. "Okay, what about Jourdain? He too strikes me as a very up-front kind of guy. If pushed, he'd run someone through with a sword, but he wouldn't hatch plots. Nor would he harm the Prince. That's out of the picture psychologically, he has an innate awe and respect for authority figures. "Tarnor?" Mulder shook his head. "I can't believe he'd do this. He does have some mage ability which should put him on the suspect list, but in all the time we've spent with him, both in the forest and at Wide River, he hasn't done or said anything suspicious." "Okay, so who does that leave, that we know of?" Scully's eyes lit up with an idea. "Maybe it was an elf - they're supposed to have a fairly high level of natural magical ability. But not Corvay - I refuse to believe that. He's devastated about the Prince. Besides, he's in my mind and I'm in his all the time. If he had anything to hide, I think he would have made some kind of excuse to stop my lessons. He couldn't be certain that I wouldn't take a peek someplace in his head I wasn't supposed to be." Mulder smiled, intrigued and as always, burning with curiosity. "Someday you're going to have to teach me how that psychic healing works. Anyway, about elves. I suppose it's possible. But Reinald's been so busy with me, he hasn't had time to even notice the existence of anyone else, let alone time to piss off some elf so badly that the elf would want to put a spell on the Prince and a frame on Reinald." Mulder sat and leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Who had the thought first, neither could say. But suddenly, the both sat upright. "Grejor!" "It makes perfect sense, Mulder. He has magical abilities, so he had means. He was here at the castle, so he had opportunity. He was the apple of Reinald's eye until you came along. Then all Grejor was good for was sweeping up smashed bottles and serving tea and other menial tasks." Scully's face was lit with enthusiasm. "He's jealous of Reinald's attention to you, your training, and your abilities. His training has come to a standstill, while Reinald has devoted himself to you. He's probably even been jealous of the affection between Reinald and Andalor. So he had a motive." She frowned. "What I can't understand is why he didn't target you. He should be more angry with you than with anyone." "That's something we'll have to ask him. It makes sense that he's got the mage talent. I didn't like the idea that a mage handed off such a powerful spell to someone else to activate - it could explode too easily in the wrong direction. All right, so we consider Grejor our prime suspect," Mulder said. "Now how do we flush him out? Any ideas?" "Too bad they don't have polygraphs here," Scully joked. Mulder stared at her. "But they do!" "What?" Scully stared at him. "They do." Mulder sat forward to explain. "Whenever Reinald was trying to be evasive or less that completely truthful, something happened to his aura. The best way I can explain it is that it flickered, and the tone got very slightly darker. Now, Reinald has an aura that's really easy to distinguish, because he's so powerful. I'm not very good at auras at the best of times. We kind of glossed over that part of the training because it wasn't really a priority. In fact, Reinald admitted to me that auras weren't his specialty either, that reading auras took a lot of concentration on his part. Anyway, theoretically, Grejor's aura should undergo some tell-tale changes if he lies while we're questioning him. Unfortunately with my lack of skill at reading auras, I don't think I'd be able to see it well enough to discern slight changes." "Lita!" Scully exclaimed. "Where?" Mulder glanced behind him quickly, thinking that she had just come in. "What about Lita?" "Lita knew immediately that we - ummmm - were "validated", because she could see it in my aura. She said she was especially good at reading auras, better than some Mages, she said. Do you think she would help us?" "We can ask in the morning. Okay, now that we have our prime suspect and a way to gather evidence, we need to think about something else." Scully looked quizzically at him. "What kind of evidence do we need?" Mulder prompted. "For all we know, their justice system works like trial by fire or the Spanish Inquisition or the Salem witch trials. I think we need to find out the course of the trial and what kind of evidence is admissible or inadmissible. Also we need to get a time frame. Will the trial be tomorrow, next month, next year?" Mulder sighed. "Not that I think we have that long." He stood up, restless. "It's not too terribly late, is it? Do you think we could go ask Jourdain or Aldara?" "I don't see why not," said Scully, standing. "I know you - you'll be up all night thinking about it if we don't find out." He put his arms around her. "I may be up all night, but that is NOT what I'll be doing." Scully laughed. "Let's go, Mulder." - - - - - The two tapped at Aldara's door, hoping for better luck than they had had finding Jourdain. There had been no answer at his door, and too many possibilities for where he might be. It had taken them some time to get to Aldara's quarters. She lived outside of the castle proper, although within the gates, in one of the small outbuildings by the stable. They waited a minute or two, then tapped again. "Maybe it is too late at night to go visiting," Scully said. Just as they were turning to leave, the door opened. Aldara stood in her breeches, her shirt untucked, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling. Scully smiled and whispered so only Aldara could hear, "It seems that turnabout is fair play." Louder, she said, "We had some questions about your justice system. Can you help us?" Aldara chuckled and pulled the door back to allow them to enter. Jourdain was inside, sitting decorously at the table, but with the same high color in his cheeks and uncharacteristically mussed look. "Ah, Jourdain, good," said Mulder, apparently oblivious to the fact that he and Scully had interrupted something. "We need to pick your brain." "What?" Evidently the language spell had problems with that idiom. "Sorry. We need to get some information from you. What happens now to Reinald? When will the trial start, how long will it last, what kind of evidence will we need?" Mulder sat at the table, nodding his thanks to Aldara as she pushed a mug of tea his way. "This kind of trial is unusual, there hasn't been one in living memory," Jourdain began. "When the accused is a high noble or a member of Royalty, human or otherwise, the structure is a little different. The Council of Representatives is called into session. They act as the jury. Unfortunately, because it is so highly factioned, the way they will determine guilt or innocence is based less on the evidence and more on politics and family histories. Representatives of the other species' governments are also invited to sit. They will probably be much more influenced by the actual evidence. Torture as a means of gathering evidence is illegal, as is the use of magic spells. Everything else is admissible. Usually the prosecution makes its case very quickly and doesn't present a great deal of evidence. It doesn't have to. Unless the defense evidence is overwhelming, the accused is always found guilty." Mulder and Scully looked at each other. "Now I see why you didn't want to arrest Reinald." Scully said. "Exactly," replied Jourdain, grimly. "When will the trial take place?" "Normally in one to three days from the time of arrest. But these are not normal times. Because of the travel hazards and the problems with communication due to the Dark Realm incursions, it will take longer to get everyone here. Maybe a week, no longer than that. The trial itself won't take more than two days. The sentence is carried out immediately." Mulder stirred uncomfortably. "If Reinald is found guilty, what's that sentence likely to be?" Jourdain sighed heavily. "If Reinald is found guilty, he will receive the death sentence." Mulder and Scully gaped at him. He looked over at them, then lowered his eyes. "It gets worse. As Captain of the Royal Guard, I will be his executioner." End Chapter Eight ===========================================================================