From: jennyann@ix.netcom.com (Jennifer Lyon) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "Magician" Ch9/Pr1 (18/31) Date: 31 May 1995 23:34:20 GMT The Magician An X-File Story by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@aol.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@aol.com) Disclaimer: The X-Files, and the characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, and all rights thereto, are the property of FOX Broadcasting Network. The remainder of this story is the property of the authors. All comments are welcome. Authors' note: This story is a small departure from most X-Files fanfiction. At its heart, it is a fantasy, a slightly deeper trip into the 'realm' of make-believe. Sit back, relax, suspend your disbelief, and let us tell you a tale. Enjoy! Chapter Nine - Part One Scully lay comfortably in the enormous bed, letting her mind wander. Idly, she wondered what time it was. The light that filtered through the opaque bedcurtains was diffuse, deceiving. It was after dawn, anyway. She looked down at Mulder, his head pillowed on her breasts. He looked absurdly young when he was asleep, she thought. She absently stroked his hair, and he stirred a little, his arms tightening around her as if to reassure himself of her presence, then relaxing again. What the hell had they been so afraid of? How much would this actually have complicated things, she wondered. The past two days with him had been - incredible. Now she regretted all the time they could have been sharing this closeness, but had chosen not to for reasons which now seemed impossible to fathom. There was a soft tap at the door, and Scully heard it open and close. Lita. "Mulder," she whispered, and leaned down to gently touch her lips to his. "Mmmm." Still half asleep, he reached for her, to prolong and deepen the kiss. Funny how in just two days that reaction had become automatic. Scully smiled against his lips. "Not now, love. Time to get up - no, I know, I don't mean that. Lita's here." Mulder sighed and rolled over onto his back and stretched. Finally he opened his eyes. "Breakfast! I'm starved." "Mulder, you're such a romantic." Scully grinned. "Mmm, well, you're the one who said 'not now.' Scully, you don't suppose you can find me something to wear?" She tossed him his shorts from the bottom of the bed, slipped on her nightshirt, and slid out of bed. "Good morning , Lita. We have a favor to ask you," Scully said, crossing to the breakfast table and seating herself. "Of course, Traveller Scully. What can I do for you?" Lita answered without pausing from her task of filling the copper tub with bath water. Mulder finally appeared from behind the bedcurtains and shuffled to the table. "Scully tells me you have a gift for seeing auras. We're going to need some help interpreting someone's aura. Specifically, trying to determine if this person is telling the truth. I've noticed aural changes when someone lies. What do you think, is that true?" "Oh, yes, quite true. The more vibrant the person's aura, the easier it is to tell, but yes, there's almost always some kind of change. Strictly speaking, it isn't related to lying, as much as trying to hide something," Lita said. "I had a brother who was always into mischief and trying to get away with things. He was always surprised he got caught. It took him ages to figure out his aura gave him away. He was not blessed with intelligence, that one." Scully smiled. "So will you help us?" "Yes, of course. What do you want me to do?" Lita looked expectantly from Scully to Mulder. "Just come with us when we question someone," replied Mulder. "Don't say anything until afterwards, when we're alone again, then give us your impressions of what happened to his aura when certain questions were asked. Can you do that?" Lita nodded. "Who are you going to question?" Mulder and Scully looked at each other and a rapid flurry of messages passed between them. Deciding that they were committed to trusting her, Scully finally said "Mage Apprentice Grejor." "Him!" snorted Lita. "I could tell you stories about that one, I could!" Mulder tried to keep the keen interest out of his voice. "Like what, Lita?" She lowered her voice. "Well, I'm not a gossip as the gods well know, but that one has no business being a Mage Apprentice. His gifts are ordinary, very ordinary," she sniffed disdainfully. "Many's the time Reinald almost went mad from frustration trying to teach him. It's been said the only reason Reinald kept him on is that he felt sorry for him. That, and Grejor's determination. He is ambitious, determined to go back to his village as a trained Mage." She stopped and frowned. "What is it?" asked Scully. "Well, now that I think about it," Lita said slowly, "I haven't been running into Grejor as often as usual for the past few days - in fact, I don't think I've actually laid eyes on him for a week or more. I've had a couple of errands to do that involved going to Reinald's chambers, but Grejor always seemed to disappear into another room or a closet whenever I showed up." "Lita, is your ability to read auras well known throughout the castle?" asked Scully, catching Mulder's eye. "Pretty well known. In fact, Reinald himself asked me to help him concerning an aural problem," she finished proudly. "Was Grejor apprenticed to Reinald then?" asked Mulder. "Wait, let me think. Yes, I believe so, very early in his apprenticeship, it was. No, wait! It was when Grejor was being considered for the apprentice post. That's it," Lita smiled. "Reinald himself was having problems reading Grejor's aura. Reinald's really not very good at auras for such a powerful Mage and Grejor's aura is very strange anyway. Blue, but a little on the pale side for anyone with Mage ability, and kind of - "dusty" - is the only way I can describe it. So Reinald asked me to read Grejor's aura for him. I think Grejor was upset about that - a mere maidservant interpreting his aura. He tends to be a little defensive about his aura as it is. So anyway, I told Reinald what I saw." Scully was almost afraid what the outspoken Lita might have said. "What did you tell him?" "Well, I was nice to the lad. He couldn't help it, after all. I was honest with Reinald about the aura - that's a matter of pride with me - but then I said he was a likely looking lad and I was sure that he would work hard. And he has, I'll give him that. He'll do anything to get ahead. All right, will there be anything else?" "Are you coming back for my bath?" asked Mulder hopefully. What had begun as an embarrassing ordeal had become for him a highly appreciated luxury, almost a decadence, that he happily anticipated every morning. Lita laughed. "Heavens no, you're validated now, Mage! That is now something your bondmate may do if she wishes, no one else. I've filled the tub, I'll empty it when you're finished. That's where my duties end now." "Oh. Well, thank you for setting me straight on that," said Mulder, disappointed. "Yes, check back with us in a little while, then we'll go see Grejor." She left, and they began to eat breakfast. Mulder seemed distracted. "Uhhhm...Scully...?" "Only if you promise to behave." - - - - - They were almost ready when Lita rapped at the door about an hour later. While waiting, she busied herself with clearing away the breakfast things, then turned to the tub. She surveyed the flood of water on the floor surrounding the tub and shook her head. "There's a trick to emptying the tub. Leave it for me, don't try to do it yourself." "That's not - " Mulder began. "Thank you, Lita, we'll remember that," said Scully hastily. She finished braiding her damp hair. "Okay, let's go." The three walked through the hallways to Reinald's chambers and knocked. There was no answer. They then checked Grejor's quarters, the food hall, the courtyard and the stables, all without success. "All right, I'm open to suggestions, ladies," said Mulder, his mouth twisting into a grimace. "Any ideas where Grejor might be?" Lita shook her head. "I can put the word out amongst the servants, Mage. That'll probably work as well as anything. Meanwhile, there's duties I must get back to." "Yes, of course. Sorry for wasting your time, Lita," said Mulder. "We'd appreciate your spreading the word. We'll see you tonight; sooner if you find out anything." They sighed simultaneously as they watched her leave. "Mulder, let's try Drellor. He may know where Grejor is. Whether he wants to tell us is another story," said Scully. "Interesting, what Jourdain said about Grejor being at Drellor's chamber yesterday. There may be a perfectly good reason for it, of course, something perfectly innocent, but somehow I kind of doubt it. It sounded like Grejor had been eavesdropping. Besides, Drellor is such a worm, I can't believe anything good about him." "It can't hurt," agreed Mulder, and they struck out for Drellor's quarters. Scully rapped on the door. Drellor's frown turned to an oily smile when he saw Scully. "Oh my dear, how lovely of you to visit me." He had grabbed her hand and put it to his wet lips when he caught sight of a glowering Mulder behind her. He dropped her hand abruptly. "Oh, and Mage Mulder, I am so honored," he said, with considerably less enthusiasm than he had greeted Scully. "What can I do for you?" "We've been looking for Grejor. I don't suppose you'd have any idea where he is, would you?" asked Mulder, somewhat imperiously. "What would you want Grejor for?" asked Drellor suspiciously. "We need to consult with him regarding some magic. With Reinald in jail, Grejor is the only source I have for some of Reinald's books and so on," Mulder answered smoothly. "I'm sorry, I have no idea. I expect he'll turn up sooner or later. Now if you don't mind, I have much to do." Drellor looked pointedly at them, and then the door. "I'm glad to see you bearing up so well, what with the tragedy involving your nephew and all," said a very sympathetic Scully. "It must have been a terrible shock for you. Evidently, Drellor didn't have an ear for sarcasm. "My dear, you have no idea what a blow it's been. That's why I have decided to put all my energy into preparing for the trial. I have applied and been accepted for the role of Prosecutor Royal." The dreadful little man puffed up his chest and began almost strutting around the room. "Yes, if I can't have my beloved Andalor back to normal, I can comfort myself with the knowledge that I have done everything in my power to bring Reinald to justice." "Then you have no doubt that Reinald did it?" Contempt hung on every one of Mulder's words. "None whatsoever," Drellor snapped. "Maybe you can help me, Drellor," said Scully. "We're foreigners and not used to your ways. What happens at the trial, and what will you do? Prosecutor Royal sounds like a very powerful and responsible position." Drellor decided to ignore Mulder's presence in the room and just address himself to Scully, who obviously had much more respect for his position. "My dear, it is, it is. It will be my job to present the Crown's case and to bring in witnesses who can help to show Reinald's guilt." "What witnesses?" asked Scully, puzzled. "I was under the impression that no one knew about it until the Prince was found hours later. Of course, I only know what I hear around the castle, I'm sure you're privy to much more reliable information." "Well, no one saw the actual act itself, no, that's quite true. But there's such a thing as intent, and that will go a long way to proving our case. We will have a very powerful and incriminating witness who can testify to the fact that Reinald had been working on this spell and spoke many times about how Andalor was a thorn in his side." Drellor looked smug. "Well, you certainly seem to have thought of everything," Scully said, a look of admiration on her face. "I'm so sorry we disturbed you. I know you have a lot to do. If you see Grejor, just tell him we're looking for him. Thanks for your time." She favored him with a lovely smile. "Goodbye, my dear. You are welcome back any time." He emphasized the "you." Drellor bent over her hand once again. In a much colder tone, he said, "Goodbye, Mage Mulder." They walked in silence all the way back to their chamber before Mulder started chuckling. "Scully, that was absolutely the most disgusting display of fawning I think I have ever seen in my life. I had no idea you were capable of such duplicity. You may have missed your true calling on the stage. Or possibly as a bunco artist. I learn more fascinating things about you all the time. Come here." When she complied, he wrapped his arms around her. "A whole new slant on the Good Cop/Bad Cop routine," she agreed, looking up at him. "Obsequious Cop/Contemptuous Cop maybe. But we found out a couple things we didn't know before. I would bet any amount of money that Grejor is the star prosecution witness..." "...and Drellor has him stashed away until the trial. I think you're right," Mulder said, resting his cheek on her hair. "It certainly makes a lot of sense. Grejor can testify that he saw Reinald practicing a spell to turn things to stone, and had been talking about how he wanted to exercise more power as Regent." Reluctantly, he let go of her - he needed to pace. "I can't think of anyone else who would be such a strong witness. But he'll be perjuring himself, Scully, and that might be our chance." "I hate to have it wait until the trial," replied Scully, uncomfortable with the prospect. "That's cutting it awfully close. If for some reason the aural changes don't occur or aren't convincing, we don't have anything to fall back on, and almost no time to come up with anything else. She added grimly, "It's not like there's a long appeals process here." "No. So Drellor is the Prosecutor," said Mulder thoughtfully. "That might help us. The man is clever, but not particularly intelligent, and his conceit is a huge weakness." Just then there was a knock at their door. Mulder opened it to discover Tarnor, looking up at him anxiously. "Tarnor! Come in." Scully began to prepare tea. They had been in the Realm long enough now that they were starting to observe some of its customs. One of the greatest breaches of Realm etiquette was not to offer tea to a guest. Mulder seated Tarnor in one of the armchairs by the hearth, and brought over a wooden chair for himself. Once tea had been made and served, the reason that had brought the little gargoyle to their chamber could be discussed. Tarnor accepted the mug gratefully and shifted in his chair. "I've been named Defender Royal. I'm not happy about it, but I can't think of anyone else to do it, and besides, Reinald asked me, so it's official. Reinald said to talk to you, that you're trying to find out who really cast the spell on the Prince. Have you found out anything?" He looked at them hopefully. "We're working on it, Tarnor," Mulder said. "We think we know who did it and why. It's now a matter of getting proof, and we have a plan for that. But I don't know if it will be enough. From what Jourdain told us, the defense evidence has to be overwhelming. I'm not sure we'll have that." Tarnor shook his head. "Poor Jourdain. He would rather cut his own throat than be in the position he's in right now. If it weren't for the incursion of the Dark Realm, he'd resign. But he feels the Realm needs him, and it does. I'll tell you this, if Reinald is found guilty and Jourdain must do his duty as Captain of the Royal Guard, it will be the end of him. He'll lead the fight against the Dark Realm, but he won't survive it - he'll see to that." Scully nodded. "I can't say I'm surprised to hear you say that. You're right, of course - there's more than just Reinald's life at stake here. With Reinald gone, no one is likely to be able to take the spell off the Prince, so in essence, he'll be dead. And Jourdain." She thought of Aldara. If Jourdain fell on the field of battle, she knew that Aldara would follow him into death, at his side and taking as many of the enemy with her as possible. She shook her head, trying to erase the picture. She felt Mulder's mind give hers a reassuring squeeze. "Well, we'll just have to come up with enough evidence to clear Reinald," she said with a confidence she didn't feel. Tarnor's face lightened a bit. "Can you do that? Who do you think enchanted the Prince?" "We're pretty sure it's Grejor," said Mulder. Briefly he explained their reasoning and their plan for using Grejor's aural changes as evidence. "Obviously, we'd prefer to find out before the trial starts if the plan will work by questioning him and having someone interpret his aura. But Grejor seems to have disappeared." "Drellor's hiding him,' Tarnor grunted. "I'm sure of it. He's probably trying to keep him away from you." He sat up and looked more animated than he had since arriving. "I'll tell you something else - I've worked side by side with Grejor. I probably know him better than anyone. I'm going to give you a list of names - all Mages who aren't above dabbling in the Black Arts. Grejor won't have dreamed up that spell himself, he hasn't got the talent. But he's perfectly capable of casting a spell that someone else has made up. Grejor is terribly ambitious. He was complaining to me one day a long time ago of the slow pace of his training, and muttered something about there being a faster way to get what he wanted. I can't be sure, but I think the Black Arts is what he had in mind. You'll need to be careful with these people, Mage Mulder. They are not overwhelmingly powerful, but they are clever and unscrupulous." As Scully looked for parchment, ink and quill pen, Mulder said, "If we can trace the spell, that would help enormously. What do you think the chances are of these people cooperating?" Tarnor shrugged. He accepted the writing materials from Scully and started to jot down names. "I don't know. It's hard to say. Perhaps better than we expect, especially if Grejor has done something to anger them. Such as inviting the scrutiny of a Mage asking all sorts of difficult questions." He handed the list to Mulder and wiggled down from the chair. "Remember, use great care and watch your back. Be ready for anything with these people." The little being started for the door. "Thank you. You've raised my spirits already. I actually think we may have a chance now." He flashed them the alarming gargoyle grin, and left. "What are your plans now? Are you going to check out that list?" Scully asked. "No, I have some research to do, a little assignment from Reinald," Mulder said. Scully looked at him. She couldn't believe he wouldn't want to start investigating Tarnor's list immediately. Mulder shook his head. "Remember when he communicated with me immediately before we left his chambers? He made me promise to make this a priority - looking for a way to reverse the spell on the Prince. He told me that nothing, not even his defense, was to come before this." "But, Mulder," argued Scully, "If we put all our energy into finding the person who put the spell on the Prince, we'll have a better idea of how to reverse it." "That's true only if the guilty party - as we believe, Grejor - decides to confess all and cooperate in reversing the spell. Certainly that would be the best solution to the problem. However, Reinald was of the opinion that we're likely not to have that kind of cooperation, and it may be up to us to find a way. I'll start checking out the names on the list tomorrow. What are you going to do?" "Do you want me to start checking on some of those names?" "Absolutely not, Scully. When we go, it will be together. As it is, when we go tomorrow, I'm going to have to provide a little supernatural protection for us - I wouldn't trust these characters as far as I could throw them." "In that case, I have a lesson with Corvay, if you don't need me for anything else. If Wide River was any example, there's a lot more about healing I have to learn," Scully said, suppressing a shudder. "Let me know if Grejor turns up or anything important happens, okay?" Mulder looked up from the list and smiled warmly at her - a smile that touched not only his eyes, but his mind, and hers as well. "See you back here for dinner?" Nodding, she returned his smile, caressing his mind. Then she was out the door. - - - - - ========================================== Chapter Nine - Part Two - A Note: some of these sections are too long for my buffer, so I"m subdividing again. Sorry for the confusion. REad a before b. With a terrific headache and profound tiredness, Scully finally sank onto a stool. Corvay had been at it for hours, teaching her the chants and stasis spells and other healing techniques reserved for those with the most severe injuries. She felt more prepared for the upcoming carnage now, while hating the fact that it was necessary. Her next lesson would be more difficult still - learning the release chants which would quickly exchange pointless agonized suffering for peaceful death. Wordlessly, she accepted the mug of tea Corvay handed her and took the first scalding sip, eagerly anticipating the resulting spread of warmth and energy. She sighed. "You did well, my dear, very well. Learn these chants and you will be a Healer in every way my equal." Corvay looked at her anxiously. "I'm not going too fast, driving you too hard, am I?" "No, Healer," she half-smiled at him. "Unfortunately, it's necessary. We don't have any idea how much time we have before the invasion of the Dark Realm forces starts in earnest. We have to be ready." "Your healing skills will be.... Scully, are you all right?" The little elf went to her side in response to her look of concentration and concern. "Yes." Scully took a deep breath. "Yes, I'm fine. Corvay, we need to get to where Reinald is imprisoned, right away. Mulder is on his way there. Something's wrong with Reinald, Mulder doesn't know what, but he thinks it may be serious. We need to get there now!" The two moved as fast as Corvay's short little legs could carry him, running along hallways and down staircases for what seemed like miles, before finally descending the last staircase and arriving in the dungeon. Mulder had gotten there before them and was in the process of interrogating one of the guards. The atmosphere felt electrically charged and damp. Scully looked around and up at the ceiling, then mentally reminded Mulder to shield. He caught her eyes, nodding almost imperceptibly, and paused a second to do so. The climate started to change immediately. He broke away from the guard and approached her, as Corvay scurried into the open door of Reinald's cell.. "Mulder, what happened?" Scully said anxiously. "I was reading when I suddenly heard Reinald talking to me, saying he had been drugged. By the time he realized it himself, he was almost in a stupor. I contacted you and I followed his thoughts to him as far as I could, then he lost consciousness. Then I had to get directions for the rest of the way here. When I got here he was comatose and unresponsive." "Did he have any idea who did this to him?" Mulder shook his head. "No, he had just had some tea, it must have been in that. He didn't see or hear anything out of the ordinary. According to the guards, the first they knew anything was wrong was when I got here and started yelling at them to let me into his cell. Jourdain should be on his way." Scully and Mulder went into Reinald's cell. Corvay was bent over him, his face twisted in concentration. Impatiently they waited for his assessment. Finally the little healer dropped Reinald's hand and opened his eyes. He picked up the tea cup by the side of the bed and delicately sniffed at it, then put it down. Standing, he motioned them out of the cell. "He's in a deep coma. I have identified the herbal involved. As you may have suspected, it was introduced into his tea. It's relatively rare, but I am familiar with its properties. Reinald will need watching, but the best treatment is for him to simply sleep it off." Corvay looked from Mulder to Scully. "I could attempt to erase or reverse the effects, but such treatment isn't normally used and can have some dangerous side effects. If there is no pressing need for him to be conscious, I would suggest we allow him to sleep. I will stay here with him, just in case." "Could this drug have killed him?" Mulder asked the healer. "It's unlikely. It could have, but that would be unexpected. Even at quite high doses, the effect seems to be more or less the same, the length of the coma is the only variant." "How long do you think this will last?" Corvay considered. "From the amount I deduce he has ingested, I would not expect him to be back to normal for three or four days. If he had finished that cup of tea, he would have been out for five or six days." "In other words, almost until the trial," said Mulder. Corvay nodded. "He may have very brief periods of sentience starting probably the day after tomorrow. I would prefer to use those times for giving him fluids, rather than having him talk, unless it is critical." He looked at Mulder. "No, Corvay, you take care of him. Whatever you say is fine." He lowered his voice. "Actually, we made plans before he was arrested to deal with this eventuality. I would suggest that from now on his food and drink is tested." "While Scully is here and can stay with Reinald, I'll go back and fetch the teas and potions I will need from my workroom. We won't trust anything that doesn't come from there." "Good plan," said Mulder. Scully went into Reinald's cell to watch over him and Corvay left to fetch supplies from his workroom. A deep growling voice came from the staircase and preceded the entry of Jourdain. "I had a few words with the Healer. I gather the news is not serious?" Jourdain said. "Serious enough. But I don't think anyone wanted to kill Reinald," Mulder said slowly. "Certainly if they had wanted to they could have. But for some reason they didn't." "Then why would anyone do such a thing?" Jourdain demanded. "Reinald wasn't going anywhere." "I think to prevent his communicating with me. We kept up a telepathic communication from the time of his arrest - I could ask his advice, he could give me information. Obviously, someone thought that was dangerous." Mulder paused. "Whoever it was seems certain that Reinald will be found guilty. Otherwise, I think they would have just slipped him a lethal dose of poison and been done with it. Whoever drugged him wants him to go through the torment of the trial and execution, wants him to die in shame. And that, Jourdain, speaks of someone with a lot of hatred for Reinald." The Captain grunted. "Do you know who did it?" "We're working on it and I think we're getting pretty close," Mulder said encouragingly. "Certainly this attack on Reinald is a sign that someone is worried about what we might find out." "May the gods prove you right, Mage," Jourdain sighed. "I don't know how I'll get through this if he is found guilty." "I know. We're doing everything we can. Tarnor gave us some more information that may prove valuable." Mulder smiled. "We have a plan. Try not to worry." Jourdain shrugged. "I think I'll sit by my old friend a while." Mulder nodded. Scully stepped out of the cell to give him some privacy. The grizzled soldier had seemed close to tears when he entered the cell. Answering her unspoken question, Mulder said, "It could have been Grejor, it's hard to say. Could have been one of Drellor's lackeys, too. I don't think we'll ever prove it either way. Reinald didn't know who slipped him the drug, I'm certain of that." Corvay returned with Aldara in tow, both loaded down with pots and jars and kettles. "I have everything I'll need for the next three days. After that, I'll need someone to go back for more supplies. Scully?" "I'll be happy to, Healer," Scully replied. Corvay nodded, then entered Reinald's cell and started unpacking his potions. Aldara put down what she had carried into the cell and stood looking at Jourdain for a few minutes. He appeared to have turned to stone himself as he sat by his friend's bedside, holding his hand. She walked out of the cell and over to Scully and Mulder. "Scully, would you walk with me back to my quarters? I need to ask your advice about something." Aldara's voice was uncharacteristically tentative and her eyes reddened. "Sure, give me just a second." The half elf moved away to the staircase. "Mulder, I'd better go, she seems really upset," Scully whispered, searching his face. "Do you mind?" "Of course not, go." Mulder smoothed back some hair that had escaped from her braid. "I'll be leaving here shortly anyway, there's not much I can do. I'll just go back to our room. We probably missed Lita - she'll have set out supper by now." "Go ahead and eat without me. I don't know how long this will take. Just save me some and I'll have it when I get back." She sent him a more personal farewell along their mind link and reached up to touch his cheek. He captured her hand and held it there for a few seconds, sending his own message. She blushed lightly and smiled, then joined Aldara and the two left. Mulder strolled into Reinald's cell. Jourdain hadn't moved a muscle. He squatted down next to the healer and spoke in a very low voice. "Corvay? I'm going now. Send a guard for me if you need me for anything. Let me know if his condition worsens, all right? And you might suggest to Jourdain to limit access down here to only those we know we can trust." "Don't worry Mage, Reinald will do fine." Corvay turned his head to observe the scene at the bedside. "He's doing better than Jourdain," he remarked with sympathy. There was no adequate reply to make. Mulder merely nodded and then made his way out of the dungeon. - - - - - Lita had indeed already prepared their chamber for night when he got back. The torches were lit, a fire blazed in the fireplace, and the table was set for dinner. He lifted the lid of the pot set on the hearth coals - looked like some kind of soup. He sniffed it appreciatively. Lately his appetite had been enormous. Rather inconvenient, with the food shortages becoming worse and worse. There's your incredible timing again, Mulder, he said to himself. He ladled out some soup and sipped several spoonfuls of the hot, savory liquid. The edge off his hunger, he now took the time to pick up the knife and start slicing the warm loaf of black bread on the cutting board. After the fifth slice, he put the knife down and flexed his right hand. Strange, he thought. The pins and needles sensation in his hand and the numbness in his fingertips must be some kind of side effect to Gate building - little wonder, all that raw energy coursing down his arms and out his fingers. He picked up a slice of bread and munched on it thoughtfully for a minute or two. It was as he lifted the spoon to his lips again that the first pain hit him. "Aaaaghh!" Mulder's face contorted in torment as a spasm twisted his stomach, leaving him shaking and sweating when it passed a few seconds or an eternity later. He struggled for breath, feeling like he couldn't get enough air. Now both hands felt numb, and his lips and his feet. He focused his thoughts. "Scully, I need you...poison...." He got no further. This time the pain drove him to his knees, leaving him helpless to do anything other than grab his abdomen and scream in agony. His chest got tighten and tighter, until it was just too hard to fight against the pain and the tightness anymore, and he welcomed oblivion as a friend. - - - - - "Aldara, the only thing you can do is to be there for him." Scully sat across the table from her friend, rubbing her right hand absently. "It's thankless, it's one of the hardest things you'll ever do, but you can't force the issue. He'll just freeze you out. When he's ready and he needs you enough, he'll come to you and you'll be there for him." Scully looked at her friend with sympathy. "Believe me, I've been there and I know." Aldara smiled sadly. "I just wish I could do more." Scully nodded. "I know exactly -" Suddenly she went dead white and grabbed her midsection, barely containing a scream of pain. "Oh, God, Mulder!" she breathed. As much as she hated herself for it, she shielded herself from him. She couldn't help him if she were writhing on the floor, sharing his agony. "Aldara, get Corvay, quick! Mulder's been poisoned and I think he's dying. Bring Corvay to our chamber. Go!" She ran until her sides ached and her lungs burned. She burst into their chamber and to Mulder's side on the floor by the table. He was unconscious, cyanotic and barely breathing, twitching from time to time as spasms continued to wrack his body. Damn, Mulder, don't die, please, she pleaded. She started mouth to mouth resuscitation, seeing his color improve slightly after a few minutes. In contact with him, she entered his mind and body as a healer, easily finding the toxins that were ravaging his body. Plant alkaloids. Neurotoxins. Probably from poisonous mushrooms. I can do this, she told herself. I've learned this. Frantically, she mentally searched through her repertoire of healing spells and chants, looking for the one which would eliminate this poison. She seized on it, gave Mulder a few more breaths, then started the chant. She didn't notice when Corvay and Aldara ran breathless into the room. She noticed only that another voice took up the chant, adding strength, helping her first to visualize, then to destroy the toxins that were killing her life-bondmate. Aldara put the potion they had brought with them onto the fire to heat. All three would need the restorative when the chant was finished. She looked at the Mage. He had lost the alarming blue color he had when they arrived and seemed to be breathing by himself now. He and the healers continued to endure spasms of pain which occasionally wrung an involuntary gasp from them. Finally, after more than an hour, the chant slowed to a stop, and the healers sagged with exhaustion. Mulder lay pale and quiet on the floor, breathing normally. Aldara pulled on the braided cord on the wall. Within a minute or two Lita was there. Together they got Mulder into bed. Then they assisted the healers to armchairs and poured the restorative potion. They held the cups to the healers' lips until they had regained enough strength to drink unassisted. Eyes blazing, Aldara turned on Lita. "Tell me about your dinner preparations. Did they include poison?" Lita drew back, horrified at first, then the elven temper flared. She met Aldara's glare and snapped, "I prepared the food and the room as I always do. No one was here, so I have no witnesses. But I didn't do it! The Travellers are my responsibility. Whoever did this has made me their enemy, and I will see to it that they pay dearly." "Aldara, Lita didn't do it," Scully said wearily. "She has no reason to do it. We're often not here when she prepares the room for the night. There's no lock on the door, anyone could have come in and added the poison to the soup." Corvay piped up. "Especially if they knew that you would be occupied elsewhere. This may have been another reason for drugging Reinald - to make sure you would be out of the room so there would be an opportunity to poison the food." He paused. "Scully, someone hates Mage Mulder. This is one of the most painful poisons in our world, and from the amount in his bloodstream, there was enough to kill him ten times over. Whoever did this wanted him to die horribly." Staring into the fire, Scully just nodded. To reassure herself more than for any other reason, she touched Mulder's mind gently and felt only refreshing, dreamless sleep. No pain. She took a deep breath and tried to stop her hands from shaking. "Scully, I'm going unless you need me," Aldara said in a low voice. "I'll tell Jourdain what happened." Again, Scully nodded. Tearing her eyes from the fire, she looked at her and said, "Thanks, Aldara, for everything. And good luck." Aldara smiled and left. Lita started clearing away the supper things, her eyes suspiciously bright. "Lita, are you all right?" The elf nodded and bit her lip. "I'm just so sorry." "It wasn't your fault, Lita," Scully said firmly. "Everything's fine now. If you want to help, you could bring us more food, and some tea. I don't trust the tea that's here." Happy to be able to do something useful, Lita cleared the remains of the food that had been left for Mulder and bustled out. In the companionable silence, in the calm that followed the frantic activity to save Mulder's life, the inevitable reaction began to set in and some slow tears made their way down Scully's cheeks. Corvay, concerned, reached out and took her hand. Scully wiped the tears away with the back of her other hand. "Don't mind me, Corvay, I usually get shaky after the fireworks are over." She tried to smile, but her chin started to quiver. "It was so close," she whispered, the tears threatening once again. Corvay held her for a few minutes, reaching in, touching her mind, bolstering it with the support of friendship and a healing chant. Scully sighed, and smiled. "Thanks don't seem enough but they're all I have. Thank you for Mulder's life,' she said simply. "You'd probably better get back to your other patient now." He got down from the chair. "You're a true healer now, Scully. You did everything perfectly, including pulling down your own shield. If you hadn't, you'd both be dead, you know that, don't you?" She nodded. Corvay continued, "Anyway, I didn't save him. You did. I'll check with you in the morning to see how he's doing." As the healer went out the door, Lita came in, carrying a pot of soup, bread, tea, and several delicacies they hadn't seen in quite some time. "Don't worry, Traveller. I have tasted all this food myself, and it is safe. I found a few of his favorites, maybe it will tempt him to eat again." "Thank you, Lita. You're a lifesaver." She smiled warmly at the servant as she left. When Lita had gone, she went to Mulder's bedside and checked him. She could have done it psychically from across the room, but suddenly needed the reassurance of seeing him with her eyes and touching him with her hands. Satisfied he was doing well, she sat at the table and forced the first few bites down her throat. Then she found she was really quite hungry, and ate well. She saved half the food and made some daytime tea, feeling she needed the energy. She heard Mulder stirring, and poured some restorative potion into a cup and brought it to him. His eyes were open and he was attempting to sit up. He was pale, drawn and weak, but otherwise showed no sign of how close he had come to death only a couple of hours before. "Let me help." Scully assisted him to sit up and propped his back with pillows. She kept a steadying hand on the cup as he lifted it shakily to his lips. "Do you remember what happened?" He looked up at her from under his lashes. "Only too well - eidetic memory, remember?" he said weakly, with a fair attempt at a smile. Then he sobered. "Unbelievable pain, and I couldn't breathe, and I called you, and - and then you shut down on me, Dana. Why?" His eyes weren't accusing, they merely reflected hurt. "It was the hardest thing I ever did, Mulder," she whispered, crawling into bed beside him. "I felt like I was abandoning you. But you weren't shielding at all. Even before you called to me, I was having the same pain and difficulty breathing you were having. I couldn't help you that way, I couldn't even move. I knew I had to get here and get into a healing mode. I didn't WANT to drop that shield, I HAD to, or neither of us would have survived." She looked at him anxiously. He took her hand and kissed the palm. "I'm sorry. I should have known it was something like that. I wasn't thinking too clearly at the time." She wasn't shielding now, and Mulder saw only too clearly what was going through her mind. "No! Dana, no!" he said, appalled. She didn't pretend not to understand him. "I only thought about it for a second, when I first found you. It just flashed into my mind how hard it would be to go on if...if you died. And how easy it would be...just to remove my shield while you were dying, and...and be with you. But it was only for a moment, Mulder...I - I don't think I would have done it." Mulder looked shaken. "This is the kind of thing I've been afraid of since the first time Reinald mentioned this life- bond. Is that possible - that just by not shielding yourself, you could die as well?" She nodded. "Corvay has been extremely informative on the subject. Theoretically, you could shield, if you were in any condition to do so, to try to prevent my being with you. But yes, it's not only possible, it's often what happens among life- bondmates, especially those who have been validated for a long time. The whole concept of life without the other becomes, over time, unthinkable. In some cases, physically impossible." Mulder took her hands in his. "Dana, you've got to promise me you'll never seriously consider doing anything like that ever again. Promise me that if anything happens to me, you'll shield yourself, you'll go on." She regarded him quietly for several moments. "Can you honestly promise me the same thing?" For a long time he was motionless, eyes down, focused on nothing in particular while he considered his thoughts. When he did raise his eyes, it was to look directly into hers. "No, I can't. I can't promise that." She shrugged and sadly smiled. - - - - - Mulder was up even before Lita arrived the next morning. Most of the ill-effects from the previous day were gone. Last night he had nibbled at some of the food Lita had brought, but had not eaten much, his lack of appetite stemming less from his being poisoned than it did the conversation he had had with Scully. He had always considered the bond in terms of what losing her would do to him emotionally. He hadn't seriously considered what it might do to her emotionally, or what it could do physically to either one of them. Now there was a whole new set of life-defining questions and decisions, things that they needed to come to terms with quickly in view of the perilous times. He had slept little, with long periods of tossing and turning, the life-bond - or death-bond - issue churning in his mind. His only respite had been the times when he had reached for her and they had made love with an almost manic passion, so mindful were they of what they had nearly lost. He had washed and dressed and was seated in an armchair, checking through one of Reinald's tomes on spells when Lita tapped and entered. She took in the shadowy shape of Scully through the filmy bedcurtains, and quietly made her way down the length of the room to the hearth. "It's good to see you up, Mage, I hope you're feeling better. I've brought breakfast, and it's been tested," Lita whispered, laying the food on the table. "Thanks, Lita. No bath this morning, I've already washed," he responded in a low voice, and gave her a brief smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "Is there something wrong, Mage? You seem - not yourself this morning, if you'll forgive my saying so." "Just a little tired, Lita. Don't worry about it." "Very well. I'll be back later to clean up." The little elf quietly closed the door behind her. Mulder poured tea and absently ate some bread and fruit, never looking up from his scrutiny of the book until he felt Scully's presence behind him. She leaned over and put her arms around his neck, stroking his cheek with her own. He closed the book, turned, and his strong arms drew her into his lap. For a long time neither of them said anything. Although neither was shielding, they did not seek each other's thoughts, perhaps already knowing what they were, perhaps discomfited enough by their own. "I'm so scared, Dana," Mulder mumbled into her hair. "I'm so scared of losing you." "I know, love. Me, too." Scully caressed his cheek, and they were quiet for a while. Some minutes passed, then she said softly, "I read a line in a book once that I've always remembered. I don't know what the title of the book was or the story or anything else, but I've always remembered the line, which said 'The only sin love can commit is to be joyless'. " She paused for a few seconds. "We can't let our fear of losing each other take away the joy, Mulder. If we do, there's no point to the life-bond, there's no point to anything." She looked up at him, her eyes peaceful. He entered her mind then, seeking the calm, the serenity that was reflected in her eyes, letting the reason of her mind nurture and comfort his, drawing on her courage to sustain him. They remained motionless, locked in each other's embrace, locked in each other's mind. Finally, Mulder sighed, with joy and contentment this time, and kissed her lips gently. "You need to eat. Lita will be back soon and we have to hit the road. Before we go, I have to do a little spell casting. I've just been looking for the best one for our purposes." Scully gave him a little squeeze, then moved to the table and started eating. "Where are we going first?" "Well, Tarnor annotated his list. He seemed to think our best bet is someone called Baalmas in the elven village of Wishalla, which isn't too far from here. Scully, I want you to go armed. I have no idea what to expect, but I want to be prepared for anything. If nothing else, maybe we can do a 'little winning through intimidation'. I don't for a moment think anyone is going to confess they made up the spell for Grejor, not unless they have some kind of death wish. It may be enough just to find out Grejor was nosing around about such a spell, and hopefully find out something about it so we can figure out how to remove it." Scully hurried finished her breakfast, washed and dressed. She strapped on her sword and stuck her dagger down her right boot. "Okay, Mulder, I'm ready." He, too, was ready, just finishing buckling the clasp of his Mage cloak. "I shouldn't say so, but I hate this thing. It gets twisted around my legs, I can't mount my horse properly, and it's so damn ostentatious. But I suppose I have to dress the part. Okay, Scully, stand directly in front of me. I have carefully researched and come up with a little something that I think will assist us to 'watch our backs' as Tarnor so helpfully suggested." His eyes on Reinald's book propped on the table, he spread his arms wide with his hands up. In the long cloak, he reminded Scully strongly of the priests she had watched in her youth from a rear pew of a crowded church. He muttered the incantation. The electric-blue flames coursed down his body and up his arms to arc between his upraised hands and enclose the two of them in a cocoon of power. Scully felt a tingling sensation all over her body and shivered a little. Finally, as Mulder's incantation wound to a close, the electric blue faded to almost white, adding what appeared to be another layer to their auras. The tingling sensation remained, though at a less irritating level. Mulder opened his eyes and lowered his arms. "That should do it." "How long will it last?" asked Scully. "And what precisely is it supposed to do?" "Theoretically, it's supposed to act as a kind of shield, preventing most things from getting through - tangible things like knives as well as intangible things like spells. It should last until the sun goes down, at least if I've read Reinald's book correctly. Sometimes some of the language is kind of representational or symbolic, so it's hard to tell. Ready?" "'Theoretically', Mulder?" He smiled at her. They went down to the stables to get their horses. After a good-natured argument about who was going to be responsible for navigation, Scully got directions for finding all the places on Tarnor's list. At least as far as she was concerned, this significantly increased their chances of being back at the castle before the spell wore off. ----------- =============================================== Chapter Nine - Part Two - B The village of Wishalla was an hour's easy ride away. The weather had turned grayer, colder and windier in the past several weeks, and Mulder and Scully were looking forward to the inevitable tea when they arrived. Following custom, they stopped first at the house of the village chief to announce their arrival, offer their good wishes and state their business. After tea was served, they asked for the location of Baalmas' house. The elf chief's eyebrows drew together in a fierce scowl and he spat on the dirt floor. "By your aura, Mage, you are honorable and powerful. Why would you want to have anything to do with Baalmas?" Mulder soothed the chief and got the directions he was looking for. The elf concluded his meeting with them as quickly as hospitality would allow. "Not a popular guy, this Baalmas, " Mulder commented to Scully. They were approaching the outskirts of the village, and easily found Baalmas' hut. Scully insisted on preceding Mulder into the windowless hovel. Inside, it was dark and there was a pervasive rank odor, an odor of dead things. They found the Mage looking over some books by the light of a single candle. He was tiny, even for an elf, but had a dissipated look about him they had yet to see in the Realm. His appearance was not helped by the fact that he was missing his left eye. He ignored them for as long as he dared, then turned to Mulder. "To what do I owe this honor?" he sneered. "We're looking for information. Information that I think it would be in your best interest to share with us," Mulder began. "And what makes you think it's in my interest to share anything with you?" snapped Baalmas. "I know Reinald had nothing to do with the Prince's spell. When he is released, he's going to be very angry with the people responsible - very angry indeed. Together our powers are formidable, as you can imagine. I think you'll rest easier, knowing that you cooperated." Mulder regarded him blandly. Baalmas looked at the him, considered the power of his aura, and Reinald's reputation. He picked up a cup and hurled it in frustration across the room to smash against a wall. The suddenness and violence of his action alarmed Scully, who pulled her dagger and had it at Baalmas' throat almost before the shards of the cup had hit the floor. His one eye bulged out of his head and he babbled in terror. "No, please, spare me, Mage. Call off this warrior. Please, I'll tell you what I know." Mulder signed to Scully and she shoved Baalmas onto the one chair in the room. He nervously licked his lips. "Someone from the castle came to me many days ago, seeking a spell that could render someone ineffective. I know such spells, but I didn't trust this person not to give me away, so I refused to help him." "Who was it? Was it Mage-Apprentice Grejor?' demanded Scully. He looked at her for a few seconds and finally nodded. "Yes. He didn't tell me the intended recipient of the spell and I didn't want to know. The less I know, the better. Anyway, he got no spell from me." "So who did you send him to see?" asked Mulder. Baalmas looked at him resentfully, then mumbled a name. "Zoalstra. I told him to go to Zoalstra. She's mad, it would never even occur to her to fear for her life. She'd cast such a spell for any reason or for none, it makes no difference to her." "Where can we find Zoalstra?" "The last I heard she was in Blackforest Township, half a day's ride from here. Just don't tell her that I sent you. She's mad, she'd turn me into a bug just for the fun of it." He shuddered. "Our silence depends on your cooperation," said Scully. "We want you at the trial. You may not even have to testify, but we want you there. It starts in five days. If we do not see you there, you won't have to worry about this Zoalstra turning you into a bug" - she indicated Mulder - "he'll do it himself, and save her the trouble. Do we understand each other?" His expression made his hatred of them quite clear, but he grudgingly nodded. "Aye, I'll be there." They left the hovel and walked back into the village. "So what was that, Scully - Bad Cop/Bad Cop?" He smiled over at her. She shrugged. "Don't argue with success, Mulder." Not trusting Baalmas' directions, they confirmed the way to Blackforest Township by asking the village chief and set out immediately. They made good time and arrived in the mid afternoon. Finding Zoalstra was more of a problem, as the inhabitants of the gargoyle settlement appeared terrified of her and were reluctant to point them in her direction. Finally, a few folk were convinced by the power of Mulder's aura and they were directed to the hut. If anything, Zoalstra's hut made Baalmas' look like a palace. There was a pall of pure evil in and about the place, a stomach-turning stench that nothing could eradicate. Nothing within a hundred feet of the hut lived - not a tree, not an insect, not a blade of grass. The gargoyle looked normal enough, except for the lunatic glint in her eye. "And what can I do for you, Mage? Come to trade spells with me, perhaps?" She chuckled nastily. "We've come to ask if you assisted an acquaintance of ours with a spell," Mulder said. "Oh, I assist many. Perhaps if you described him..." "A young human, smaller than me. Brown hair, brown eyes. From Fairwood Keep." At the last clue, her eyes flickered with recognition. "I do seem to recall someone like that. Now what did he need help with?" Seeing she had their complete attention, she was not about to lose it. "What was it, now - maybe help finding a lost valuable, perhaps. No, no that wasn't it. What was it?" She continued to play the kindly eccentric, stringing them along. Finally, Scully tired of it and began to investigate some of the objects in the hovel. "Now what was it, if I could only remem- Hey, what is it you're doing there? Stay away from my things!" Her voice had risen to a scream that could shatter glass. "Mulder, take a look." Scully removed the lid from a tiny pot to reveal what looked like several human eyeballs. "No! Leave that alone - you'll spoil it!" The infuriated gargoyle began to shriek. "Get out! You've ruined it, it's no good anymore. You'll pay. I'll see to it you pay!" Moving like lightning, she pickled up a long thin knife from the table and threw it at Scully's back. Scully reacted quickly and dived for cover while withdrawing her own dagger. But the stiletto struck Scully's spell-enhanced aura and ricocheted back at Zoalstra. The blade stuck her mid-chest with such force that she was pinned to the wall behind her. She died immediately. "You alright, Scully?' asked Mulder anxiously. "Yeah." Scully removed the stiletto from the wall and the gargoyle's body slumped to the floor. "She won't make much of witness, however." "No," admitted Mulder, looking at the black magician's body distastefully. "But then again, I don't think she would have anyway, even if she had been alive. And we may have just done this settlement a service. We'd better go find the chief and tell him what happened." The explanation didn't take long, and Mulder had correctly deduced the village's reaction. General rejoicing broke out as the word spread. Mulder and Scully were showered with food and flasks of tea for the journey back to Fairwoods. Zoalstra's body and her hovel were set ablaze. They lost no time in setting out. There was no way now that they would be back at the castle before dark, a fact which worried Scully greatly. After two hours they stopped by the side of a small creek to rest and water the horses while there was still a little light, and had some tea and food themselves. When the last rays of the sun faded from view, they remounted and urged their horses into a fast trot down the narrow road illuminated by the two moons. They were nearly back at Fairwoods when Scully noticed that her skin was no longer tingling. "Mulder?" "I know. I would guess that we're no longer shielded. Well, it was nice while it lasted." Mulder glanced at Scully, who was suddenly alert and looking around. "What is it?" Scully drew her sword and said grimly, "I think it's soul-eaters. I can't see or hear them, but I can feel their presence. Let's get going, Mulder." The horses needed little urging to break into a gallop; they has also sensed the creatures. They outran the pack and eventually slowed, only to sense another. "What the hell is going on? They shouldn't be this close to the castle," Scully murmured. Again they spurred their horses. This time, however, before they outran the second pack, they had picked up a third. The battlements of the castle were in sight when suddenly, they were running for their lives. Scully's horse screamed as two soul-eaters converged on it, their claws raking its flanks. Her sword flashed, decapitating one of the monsters and slashing the other deeply across its ribs. Mulder concentrated what energy he could while riding at a gallop, stunning two more of the creatures and having the satisfaction of seeing them drop in their tracks. The last soul- eater persisted in chasing them all the way to the castle portcullis, when Scully turned in her saddle and impaled it on her sword. She tipped the weapon, letting the creature's body slide to the ground, even while her horse never broke stride in its race to get through the portcullis to safety. They flew through the gate which crashed down behind them, and slid to a stop in the courtyard. They dismounted, dirty, disheveled and panting. Mulder looked at Scully, liberally splashed with the blood of soul-eaters, her hair, freed from its braid, wild around her face. "I'll say this, Scully - a date with you is never boring." End chapter Nine =============================================== Chapter Ten - Part One As the day of the trial approached, Fairwoods Keep was filled to bursting. For days there had been a constant parade of Council Representatives and their entourages arriving at the castle, needing food, shelter and stabling. Many of the Representatives were accompanied by hundreds of kinsmen, militia members and camp followers, sometimes in an attempt to impress onlookers and rivals with mere numbers, but more often simply for security during the trip. As Mulder and Scully had found, the woods were alive with soul-eaters. The Representatives of other species who had come the furthest distance had brought their entire armies with them, realizing that the time was soon approaching when their armies would be activated and called to Fairwood for deployment on the field of battle. Everyone felt the spectre of the Prophecy and knew that time was short before the Realm would be forced to fight for its survival. Prince Mavor was one such leader. An elven Prince who had journeyed two hundred miles to attend the Council, he would have been making his way to Fairwoods in any case. His fine-boned, almost gaunt, aristocratic features were calm and serious as he and his general Karvan led hundreds of elven cavalry troops, clothed in yellow leather and silver armor. Elves were famed for their horsemanship both on and off the field of battle, and the addition of these troops would give Jourdain one more force for the Dark Realm to reckon with. Meanwhile, the noble houses squabbled continually amongst themselves. The House of Dordinal schemed with the House of Maalfees against the House of Ranfaus, then Maalfees would align with Ranfaus against Dordinal in an endless dance of changing partners. Aldara's internal security forces had been hard pressed to keep the hot-blooded guards of each of the Houses from each others' throats, and were constantly breaking up fistfights, swordplay and duels between noble cliques. The day before the trial was difficult on all involved, the only positive being that Reinald had recovered from the effects of his drugging and was completely back to normal. Otherwise the news was uniformly unpleasant. There had been further attacks in the eastern part of the Realm by Hunters and Destroyers in addition to which two Representatives and their entire entourages had been slaughtered on their journey to the castle. Grejor was still missing, and Mulder and Scully had been unable to unearth any more evidence to support Reinald. Jourdain had spent the day meeting with Mulder, Reinald, and the various species leaders and generals all day, trying to come up with a battle strategy that was both effective and agreeable to all parties. This seemed less and less likely with each successive meeting. Meanwhile, Aldara's forces had broken up at least forty seven fights that day, some caused by overcrowding, some by interspecies tensions, and most by the noble houses instigating trouble. Later that night, Aldara prepared a simple supper for herself in her remote quarters. She was exhausted, depressed and very troubled. Cherishing her friend's advice and support, she had spoken briefly to Scully that morning, expressing the terrible depth of her worry about Jourdain and the responsibility he was handling. From the moment of Reinald's arrest, he had remained remote, tightly coiled, keeping himself rigidly controlled. Aldara knew it was mostly a facade; as she had a good idea of the hell he was going through. It was probably too early in their relationship to hope for, but not for the first time she wished that he trusted her enough, felt comfortable enough to share his feelings with her, to let her ease some of his burden. In fact, Aldara thought bitterly, it was too early in their relationship to even be sure they had a relationship. There was a tap on her door, so soft she wasn't even sure she had heard it. She opened it, expecting anything but the huge form of Jourdain on the threshold. "Jourdain! Please come in. Have you eaten?" Jourdain threw himself into a chair by the hearth and sighed. She pressed a mug of tea into his hand which he sipped at automatically, appreciating the little boost it gave him. Aldara allowed the silence to continue as she set an extra place at the table, dished out stew, and sliced bread. "Come and eat, Jourdain." The big man moved slowly to the table and sat on the rough wooden bench. "Thank you, Aldara." They ate in silence, Jourdain still distracted by his thoughts of battle plans, his friend's trial and his possible role as executioner. He didn't eat well, but still better than he had since Reinald's arrest. When he had finished, Aldara cleared the dishes away as he remained at the table, leaning on his elbows, supporting his aching head in his hands. Aldara washed the dishes, wiped down the table and added another log on the fire, all in silence. Finally, she sat in a chair at the hearth, staring into the fire. The silent minutes stretched out. Jourdain wrenched his mind from the difficulties of the day and observed Aldara. In the light of the fire, she was beautiful, her appearance deceptively fragile. Suddenly he realized what her quiet, unwavering, undemanding support meant to him, and what it had cost her. "I love you, Aldara," Jourdain whispered hoarsely. "I've no right to say it, but I love you and I need you." Aldara sat very still for a moment, hoping she had heard correctly. She stood and slowly crossed to him, and standing behind him, began to massage the tense muscles of his neck with her small but strong hands. He groaned a little and sagged back against her. After a few minutes, he reached back, captured her hands and brought them to his lips. "Aldara?" "Yes, Jourdain?" Her reply was quiet, calm. Circling her wrist with his hand, he pulled her down to sit next to him on the bench. "Aldara, did I say something wrong?" "No...no, you said something I've been waiting to hear all my life." Her emerald eyes were huge, loving, trusting. Gently he reached out to stroke her cheek, then his hand went to cup the back of her head, fingers tangled deep in her ebony curls as he closed the distance between them. His lips were soft on hers until, impatient with his gentleness, Aldara nipped at his lip and deepened the kiss. He made a sound of surprise in his throat and returned her passion, letting her set the pace. After some minutes, she broke away to catch her breath. His lips found the tips of her ears and she gasped softly. He had discovered how sensitive her ears were mostly by accident the one and only time he had kissed her. If Mulder and Scully had not chosen that time to visit, things would have quickly gotten out of control. Out of control was definitely where things were headed now. He tongued and sucked the tips of her ears, sending her into a paroxysm of need. She unbuckled his belt and her own with unsteady fingers, discarding leather and weapons on the floor. Her hands reached into his tunic and under his shirt, stroking the broad chest with its mat of curly dark hair. He brought her tunic over her head, adding it to the heap of discarded articles on the floor by their feet, and pulled her shirt from where it was tucked into her breeches. Lifting her in his arms, he stood, crossed the room and gently laid her on the bed, sitting beside her. He sat for a few seconds, just looking at her, knowing himself to be fortunate to have her love and trust. And then suddenly he was afraid. "Jourdain. What is it?" Aldara sat up, touching his face, his chest, alarmed at the look of concern and fear on his face. "I want you so badly, Aldara." His voice was tight. Etched into his features, his need was no secret. "I want you too, Jourdain." He kissed her softly, his hands skimming lightly over her curves, and wondered how he was going to ask what he needed to know. "Aldara, you've not-" He stopped, not knowing how to go on. She looked expectantly at him, waiting for him to continue, then realized what it was that he was asking. "No, I haven't. Does that matter?" He gathered her in his arms and held her close, savoring her warmth, her return embrace. "I'm so afraid of hurting you," he whispered. She smiled, and pulled away from him far enough that he could see her face. "I love you, Jourdain, and I want this. Stop worrying, please." He searched her face, a little reassured by her lack of fear, but knowing that it was based mostly on naiveté and blind trust in him. She looked him directly in the eyes. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing. I'm not a child." Her smile broadened and she snuggled close to him, her lips near his ear, her breath tickling and caressing at the same time. "Besides, you do that with my ears again, and you're going to have to worry about my hurting you!" she purred provocatively. Jourdain chuckled in his throat, kissed her deeply, then moved slowly and deliberately to her lovely pointed ears. - - - - - "We feel like we've let you down, Tarnor." Tarnor shook his head. "You've done better than I had dared hope. We have Baalmas and we have the evidence of Grejor's aura. I don't think Drellor has a clue that we have any kind of defense to mount, so that's in our favor, too. Grejor's time as a witness will be critical - first, that we have correctly deduced that he is the main prosecution witness, and secondly, to see how his aura behaves under questioning. Prince Mavor of the elves is here. He is reputed to have the most sensitive eye for auras in the kingdom. He will be a very powerful impartial witness to corroborate what Lita has to say about the aural changes. And then we have several character witnesses, yourselves included, who can swear to Reinald's affection for the boy. I don't see what more we can do." Scully sighed. "I'm just concerned about any tricks that Grejor could play. Is there any way he can disguise his aura, or anything like that?" She looked at Mulder. He was quiet for a few minutes, eyes seemingly focused somewhere across the room. Finally he shook his head. "Reinald doesn't know of anything that could disguise or camouflage it. But Grejor's familiarity with unscrupulous Mages who practice the Black Arts has me worried. I suppose it's possible that one of them might know a few tricks Reinald doesn't. After all, who, other than someone who is doing something wrong, would want to disguise his aura?" Mulder began pacing around the room. "The one thing that cheers me up is the fact that Grejor seems to have made a conscious effort to avoid Lita around the time of the Prince's spell. That tells me that he was afraid she would see the changes in his aura and wonder why." "In any case, I've got to be ready to pounce on Grejor as soon as he finishes testifying for the prosecution," Tarnor said. "I don't want to give him another opportunity to disappear." "Oh, he won't disappear, Jourdain will make sure of that," Scully said. "He has already assigned three or four men to do nothing but keep track of Grejor's whereabouts, just as soon as he surfaces." "Tarnor, you said you have more evidence than you expected. But is it enough?" Mulder asked. "You know your legal system, we don't. Do you have enough to save Reinald's life?" The gargoyle shrugged. "I don't know. It's always difficult trying to predict how the noble houses and other factions will vote. Even if it were up to the more impartial non-human species, it would be very close indeed. I'm hoping that Grejor will confess. Maybe seeing Baalmas ready to testify or having Lita testify to the aural changes will make him see the futility of his position. That's what I'm hoping - not necessarily what I'm expecting." "Is there anything more we can do?" "Just be there, though you can miss the first part. As with all of our other traditions and customs, there's a long ritual before anything happens, and then a judge is chosen. The judge is mostly a ceremonial position, but it wouldn't hurt to have someone chosen who is either on our side or is impartial. If we can get the right judge, it would help tremendously." Tarnor smiled at them. "For a change, we're in a good position there - as Defender Royal, I get to make the first nomination for judge. Drellor will probably try to refute it and make his own nomination. It's my job to come up with someone who Drellor can't refute without looking bad. Which is how I'm going to spend the rest of the night." He rose from the table, gathering his parchment documents in his hand, and moved to the door. "We'll be there, Tarnor. Good night." They closed the door behind him. "How do you think- " Scully began. Mulder stopped her with his lips. After a minute or so, he murmured, "Not another word. We've worked hard since very early this morning. We can't do anything more right now. The rest of tonight is for us. Agreed?" Scully smiled. "Agreed." =============================================== Chapter Ten - Part Two A At dawn, the castle came alive. The day was cold and windy, but the sun made an appearance which was all too rare these days. The smoke from the cooking fires hung in the air, and the clank of armor rang out, as soldiers were arrayed in full battle dress, and everyone else dressed in the traditional garments of their occupation or station in life. Shortly after breakfast, there was a general thronging to the Great Hall. The Great Hall was an enormous room, now used little except for coronations and other major ceremonies. It was almost three hundred feet in both length and width, with lofty vaulted ceilings. Huge dark wooden beams, painted with intricate designs, crossed the ceiling, and the walls were hung with tapestries and with banners representing the major religious groups, the non-human species and the noble houses, past and present. In the very center of the room were three large chairs, set facing each other in a triangle. Surrounding them were three concentric rings of smaller chairs, about 50 in all. The inner ring would be taken by witnesses and the Prosecutor and Defender Royal, and the outer two rings by the Council Representatives. The rest of the room contained stands, taken from storage and set up in the past few days by the castle workmen, where most of the spectators were even now taking their places. It was still early morning when the stands were filled to the breaking point. Outside, the trumpets and bagpipes swirled their fanfares, a different one to honor each of the Council Representatives, as they and their retainers took their place in the procession to enter the Great Hall. The crowd watched in awed silence, not privy to such a display since the coronation of their late king a generation ago. To trumpet and drum beat, the procession made its way from the gigantic doors, down the aisle, and filling the seats that had been set aside for them. The order was strictly followed. First, the heads of the major religious groups were seated. Then came the human clans, with the most ancient of clans taking place of honor, followed by the next most ancient, and so on. Unfortunately, this meant that often seatmates were fierce rivals, and a certain amount of pushing and shoving was going on. Last came the Representatives of the non- human species, conducting themselves with considerably more decorum. Next, the witnesses filed in, led by Drellor and Tarnor. Mulder and Scully had decided to attend the entire trial and took their places in line, Mulder dressed in his Mage cloak, and Scully in her warrior green leather with a brown hood to denote her unique dual status. They were near the beginning of the line, following Jourdain and Aldara. Grejor, who had finally resurfaced and was looking about him anxiously, was somewhere near the middle. Some witnesses were missing from the procession by design, such as Lita and Baalmas. Tarnor had decided to appear weak and defenseless to Drellor at first, and then spring the witnesses on him, hoping to catch the Prosecutor Royal by surprise. Finally, Reinald was led in by a guard, to a mixed reaction from the crowd. Some hooted and called for his head, others were quite touching in the support that they shouted from the stands. As, the accused Mage took one of the three central chairs, the crowd quieted. Drellor and Tarnor remained standing. They started chanting in sing-song voices in a language that Mulder and Scully did not understand. Scully looked questioningly at Aldara. "This is an ancient form of our language, reserved for important ceremonies," she whispered. "I don't understand more than a few words of it myself, and most people don't know it at all." Scully nodded her thanks. After a while, she began to realize why Tarnor had advised that they skip the first part of the trial. The chanting seemed to go on for hours, sometimes taken up by some of the nobles. Occasionally, she could discern chants in other languages, and her puzzled look brought answers from Aldara, that the languages were the original tongues of the Elves, Trolls and Gargoyles, who now all spoke the one major language of the Realm. She looked over at Mulder, who generally had a very low tolerance for ceremony. He looked as if he were giving it his closest attention, but a quick look into his mind proved otherwise. Scully didn't understand much of what was going on in there, but it appeared he and Reinald were in communication, applying themselves to finding a way to reverse the Prince's spell. Scully left Mulder's mind as unobtrusively as she could. She turned her attention to Aldara and Jourdain, sitting more closely together than necessitated by the arrangement of the chairs. He seemed a little less haunted by the spectre of the trial, and she had a softer, less guarded look. Scully cured her boredom by speculating on the cause for the change in her friends, until finally the chanting stopped. Drellor sat down and Tarnor took a sip of water. Then he announced, "As dictated by our laws and our traditions, I claim my right to name a judge." He bowed deeply to Drellor and to Reinald. In a more conversational tone, indicating a part of the ceremony that wasn't scripted, he said, "I have put much thought into my choice for judge. I wanted someone impartial, someone who commands respect, who is held in the highest esteem by both his own people and others as well. I realize I am breaking with tradition slightly in my choice, for he is a non- human. I ask for approval to name Prince Mavor judge in this matter." Tarnor sat down to the buzzing of the spectators and shouts of rage by some of the nobles. Drellor stayed seated, his mind trying to catch up with this unexpected turn of events. He had assumed that Tarnor would ask Mulder to be judge, and he had prepared all his arguments against Tarnor's choice based on that assumption. Prince Mavor! What was Tarnor up to? Prince Mavor would indeed be impartial, and was respected, and was of royal blood - elf blood to be sure, but still royal. Drellor knew he risked a revolt of the hot-tempered elves if he tried to refute Tarnor's choice. He looked at his little gargoyle rival with a mixture of dislike and new-found respect. He rose. "The Prosecutor Royal can find no good reason why Prince Mavor should not be named judge of these proceedings if it is his wish to so serve." Then Prince Mavor stood and said in his low musical voice, "I am honored and choose to serve." He made his way from his seat with the non-human representatives to the second large chair in the center of the concentric circles and sat down. The chanting began again, this time with Prince Mavor joining in. It lasted a comparatively short time. Then at a signal from Drellor, the witnesses and Representatives filed out of the Great Hall, in search of food and drink to sustain them through the afternoon proceedings. Outside the Great Hall, Mulder and Scully caught up with Tarnor. "Looks like you surprised Drellor with your choice," said Mulder. Tarnor smiled. "A little espionage on my part, I'm afraid. Well, it's not my fault that Drellor has a chatty servant who is not particularly enamored of his master. My servant found out from his servant that Drellor thought I was going to name you as judge." Seeing Mulder's expression of concern, he chuckled. "Don't worry, you were never in any danger. But I was of two minds. I wanted Mavor, but I really didn't want to remove Drellor's false sense of security quite so soon. He may be watching us more closely now than I would prefer. But, it couldn't be helped." "Well, I can't tell you how happy I am that Drellor was wrong," Mulder said with a grin. "I've never pictured myself as a judge." Just then, the elegant Prince Mavor joined the group. Tarnor quickly performed the introductions. Mavor looked at Mulder and Scully, looked away, then looked again, his eyes widening. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare, but, by the gods, this is incredible. A Mage, a Warrior Healer, bonded - by the gods, bonded! - and newly validated!" Mulder stifled a laugh as Scully's mind pictured a huge billboard nailed to the wall of the Keep which listed the most intimate details of their lives. Mavor turned to Tarnor. "Do you realize what this means?" Tarnor nodded. "Yes, Your Highness." "You are the prophesied ones...the Mage bonded to the Warrior Healer. I had heard rumors, of course, but I didn't really believe them. A bonded Mage...incredible!" Prince Mavor moved off to join his courtiers, looking back over his shoulder occasionally as if to assure himself that Mulder and Scully did, in fact, exist. "Isn't it a problem for the Prince to be both judge and possible defense witness?" Scully asked. Tarnor looked at her blankly. "No, why should that be a problem?" Scully shrugged. "No reason, I guess." Tarnor bade them farewell and scurried off to attend to some business. Mulder and Scully spotted Jourdain and Aldara and hurried to catch up with them. The four decided to stop in at the tavern for refreshments. While Mulder and Jourdain were ordering, Scully pulled Aldara through the crowded tavern to an empty table in a dark corner. "Okay, so what happened?" inquired Scully. "I know something happened, so don't try to deny it." Aldara blushed, laughing. "You must be a very good investigator in your world. Or does it show that much?" Scully smiled. "Maybe only to people who know you as well as I do. I'm just really glad you're happy." "Very happy," said Aldara. "Jourdain was wonderful - so caring and sweet." She sighed contentedly, thoughts of the previous night bringing a blush to her cheek once again, then she giggled. "I think I shocked him." Scully laughed. "I'm not going to ask." The women looked up to notice their lovers approaching, and deftly changed the subject. When the men arrived, Aldara and Scully were deep in a conversation about the linguistic changes that had occurred in the long history of the Realm. They moved over on the benches to make room for Mulder and Jourdain, who carried bread, cheese, beer and for Mulder, tea. Jourdain's mood, too seemed lighter. He was extremely pleased by the choice of judge, and by Drellor's confusion. "I had almost begun to regret all those times I insulted Drellor and slammed doors in his face," he said. "I know he was reveling in the idea that I would have to execute Reinald. It will be wonderful to disappoint him." "You certainly sound much more optimistic," observed Scully. "Well, Tarnor selecting Mavor as judge was a masterstroke," he said. "Mavor is very highly thought of. His opinion will influence many of the Representatives. Except the House of Dordinal - they're known to be species bigots - and they weren't likely to side with Reinald in any case, so we haven't lost anything." Jourdain shrugged. "I don't know, I just feel like we might have a chance, that things have turned around and are going to go the way I want them to go." Scully smiled into her beer mug. "What happens this afternoon?" "The prosecution presents its case," Aldara said. "It may run over to tomorrow morning, which would be in our favor, though Drellor may not know that. Grejor will probably be the last prosecution witness, because his testimony will have the most impact. We don't want him to have the opportunity to disappear, so we'd like Grejor to testify tomorrow morning, and Tarnor can follow up immediately." Jourdain grunted. "I have four of my best men keeping an eye on him, but I still don't trust the little rat." He noticed a parade of people headed for the Great Hall and downed the rest of his beer. "We'd better get back." Jourdain and Aldara rose and went out. Mulder caught Scully's arm for a few seconds so they lagged behind their friends. "I know I can contact your mind any time, but I prefer actual talking - most of the time, anyway," Mulder said with a knowing look. "What's going on with Jourdain and Aldara?" "What do you think?" grinned Scully. Mulder smiled back. "The old devil. Good for them. They seem happy." "Don't get carried away by all the romance, Mulder. Let's go back to the Great Hall." There was no procession this time. Everyone found his seat or his place in the stands. When they were filled, Drellor stood. "We are here to bring a terrible criminal to justice. Someone who took advantage of the trust of a small child. Someone who broke a sacred covenant with our Realm. Someone whose arrogance and quest for power led him to commit a horrible crime. I speak of Reinald, Regent of the Realm. Long has he pretended affection for my beloved nephew Prince Andalor, all the while plotting against him, against the Realm, and against the order of succession ordained by our laws and traditions." Drellor hung his head dramatically. "I am so glad my beloved brother King Barnos is dead. If he had lived to see the day when his cherished child was turned to stone to further the ambitions of an unscrupulous, power-hungry Mage - well, I shudder to think." Drellor shuddered for his audience. Scully didn't know whether to be amused or disgusted by the show Drellor was putting on. The man did not know the meaning of the word subtlety. She touched Mulder's mind to find that he felt the same. In fact, he had reached his saturation point for Drellor's rhetoric, and was in the process of "tuning out" again so he could re-establish contact with Reinald and put his time to good use. Scully kept her eyes on Drellor, but most of her mind was with Mulder and Reinald in their quest to find a way to remove the spell from the young prince. It was just as well Scully kept herself occupied, because Drellor held the floor for almost two hours, expostulating on the evil of Mages in general and Reinald in particular, and on the trusting innocence of Prince Andalor. Tarnor rejoiced with every minute that Drellor extended his oration. It was becoming a certainty that Grejor would not reach the stand until the next morning. Also, it appeared that the length of Drellor's speech, after the long, stultifying ceremony of the morning, might be antagonizing some of the undecided votes among the Representatives. Finally Drellor stopped talking and started calling witnesses. He called a long series of character witnesses, mostly from noble houses and factions which had long been aligned with Drellor and against Reinald. Each witness took the third of the large central chairs and parroted essentially the same testimony, often repeating verbatim what other witnesses had said, that Reinald had abused his position and his powers and had committed treason against the Realm. Although none of the witnesses spoke for very long, there were so many of them that the sun had long since set before the last of them had testified. Finally, Prince Mavor called a halt to the proceedings for the night. "But sir, we have not yet finished presenting our case," babbled Drellor. "I have another witness who must testify, our most important witness." "Prosecutor Royal, you should have thought of that before," declared Mavor. "In any event, a witness so important should be heard when we are fresh. We will stop now and reconvene in the morning." His expression did not invite argument or discussion. "Yes, sir," said Drellor, deflated. Mulder and Scully got up, stretched and started walking back to their chamber. "This inactivity is killing me," groaned Mulder. "I'm going to change and go for a run on the battlements. Want to come?" "No thanks, too cold for me. I can unwind in a nice hot tub." She shivered as a cold, wet wind roared through the courtyard, and Mulder drew her closer to him. "How are you and Reinald coming on something to reverse the Prince's spell?" "We thought of something today, actually. Reinald has been deprived of his books of spells since being arrested, but I committed them to memory and have been a kind of "living book" for Reinald since he regained consciousness. There's a couple of things we're working on. Of course, Reinald has to beat the rap first." "I know, I've been thinking about that. And so has Prince Mavor, by the way," Scully said. "He has very high levels of psi ability, and I was standing quite close to him. I didn't mean to eavesdrop in his mind, but I couldn't help but notice that he has correctly put two and two together. If Reinald is executed, then the Realm is doomed, because there won't be two powerful- enough Mages to combined their powers to defeat the Dark forces. I was wrong before when I thought there were four lives at stake here - everyone's life is at stake, including ours. Mavor understands that. I think that will work in our favor, too." They came at last to their chamber, lit by the fireplace and a couple of flickering torches. Steam rose from the hot water in the big copper tub, and the tea kettle was on the fire. "Need help washing your back, Scully?" "I thought you were going for a run." "You were right, it's pretty cold out. I'll figure out another way to get some exercise." His smile was deceptively innocent. - - - - - The following morning was stormy, with wind-driven sleet making little pinging sounds as it struck armor and shields. The witnesses and Council Representatives did not bother with a procession and fanfares, merely entering the Great Hall with all due speed in an attempt to get warm. When everyone was in place, Drellor called Grejor to the stand. "State your name, birthplace and station, then tell the assembly what you know of Reinald and his crime." "My name is Grejor. I came originally from the village of Cattle Ford in the southern part of the Realm. I am a Mage Apprentice under Mage Reinald and have held that post for seven seasons." Three small cloaked and hooded figures quietly entered the Great Hall and began making their way down the central aisle. Grejor stared at them, distracted. Drellor noticed Grejor's hesitation and impatiently prodded him. "Yes, yes, go on. Tell us of Reinald's crimes." "Well, uhh...many's the time Reinald told me that Andalor was a thorn in his side. That being Regent was a thankless job. That as long as he was going to have to do the job of running the kingdom, he should have the power and title and respect to go along with it." Grejor hesitated once again, as he noticed one of the cloaked figures incline its head toward Tarnor to speak, and Tarnor apparently listening with interest, nodding several times. "Grejor, please pay attention," Drellor demanded. "Your testimony is important." "Yes. I'm sorry...uhhh, where was I ?" "You were telling us how Reinald wasn't satisfied with being Regent," Drellor said through clenched teeth., barely holding on to his temper. "Yes, right." Grejor's attention was still held by the three cloaked figures. He watched them, mesmerized, like a rodent would watch a huge, coiled serpent. "AND..." prompted a furious Drellor. "And - and he - I saw him practicing a spell, many times, using small objects like bottles at first and then living things like birds and cats." Grejor stopped. Visibly trembling now, he swallowed nervously as the cloaked figure spoke again to Tarnor. Drellor smiled, oblivious to the cause of Grejor's discomfiture. "And what happened when Reinald would cast this spell, Grejor? Tell the assembly." He indicated the gathered representatives with a dramatic sweep of his arm. Grejor stared at Tarnor and the three figures. Who the hell were they, and why were they talking to Tarnor? What were they saying about him? "Grejor! Tell the assembly what would happen!" Drellor shouted. "uhhh...uuhhh...the objects would turn to stone," Grejor said in a rush, beads of sweat now standing out on his brow. Prince Mavor stared at Grejor, disgusted, but said nothing. Most of the assembled crowd began to call again for Reinald's head, but many of the elves and the magically sensitive looked on in consternation and began to shake their heads and talk among themselves. Drellor had planned on getting into more detail, but the manner in which Grejor was giving his evidence was not at all as they had rehearsed. He decided to quit while he was ahead. "The witness may go," he said airily, and Grejor was out of his seat in a heartbeat. Tarnor leapt up. "I have a few questions I would like to ask Grejor." Prince Mavor nodded and motioned Grejor back to the witness chair. Grejor looked hunted, trapped. He looked around for any possible alternative to returning to that chair, and saw none. Guards were everywhere. That fool Drellor had promised that this would not happen, had said that once he had told his story for Drellor that he would be free to go back into safe-hiding until it was all over. Grejor shot a look of hatred at Drellor, and returned to the witness chair. Drellor almost stood to argue against Tarnor's request, but looking at Mavor's face thought better of the action, and stayed seated and silent. "Tell us how you came to be Reinald's apprentice," began Tarnor. Grejor relaxed very slightly. "I applied for the post when it came open." "Were you accepted immediately? "I don't know what you mean," Grejor said guardedly. "Well, what I mean is, did Reinald recognize your vast store of Mage energy from your aura, did you dazzle him with your prowess, something like that?" Grejor flushed angrily. "You know very well that wasn't the case, Tarnor. You were there." Tarnor nodded. "Yes, I was but all these other people were not. Please tell the assembly the circumstances of your being chosen." "I don't see what this has to do with anything," growled Grejor. "Nor do I," said Drellor in a stage whisper. Several of his noble cronies snickered. Prince Mavor looked over at Grejor. "Answer the question." He stared at Tarnor with hot, furious eyes. "Reinald couldn't read my aura. He brought in some scullery maid to read it. Between them, they decided my powers were "marginal", but Reinald accepted me anyway." Tarnor walked up to Grejor. "Did you get along well with Reinald?" "He was all right," said Grejor sullenly. "Wasn't he a hero to you, at least until recently?" "All right, that's true," admitted Grejor. "I worked myself into exhaustion for that man, I worked harder than any apprentice he had ever had." "Well, what happened to change your mind?" "It was the black magic, the spells he was practicing. I didn't want to get into any of that stuff. And the way he was talking about Prince Andalor. I had no idea that's who he was going to use the spell on - if I did I would have reported it to someone," Grejor declared. The crowd buzzed, Mavor frowned, and Drellor gloated. The fool Tarnor was making Drellor's case for him. The end should come soon now. "Did you not complain numerous times of the length of time your training was taking?", inquired Tarnor. "I might have. The old man was always picking on me. Nothing I ever did was good enough, everything had to be just so. Even after I learned something, he'd go over it again and again, picking my performance apart, repeating things until I thought I'd go crazy. Sometimes I thought he was delaying my training on purpose." "How long does an apprentice usually spend with a Mage?" "Maybe eight seasons." "You said you had spent seven seasons with Reinald. Does that mean you were about to leave him, that you had almost completed your studies?" Grejor glowered. "No. I had completed barely half my training." "Did you blame Reinald for that?" "I worked hard. He was always against me, he never appreciated me. Sure, I blame him." Tarnor was quiet for a few seconds, glancing back at the three hooded figures and consulting a parchment before him. "You are a Mage Apprentice, so you must know something about auras, am I right?" "A damn sight more than Reinald," declared Grejor, with bravado. Some of the Dordinal nobles laughed. Tarnor just nodded. "I know. Auras were always Reinald's weakness, weren't they? What happens to a person's aura when that person lies or tries to conceal something? Grejor?" The witness merely stared at him, deathly pale, perspiration rolling down his face, in spite of the chilly temperatures. Drellor shot to his feet. His witness was coming apart. Grejor had said something about auras when they had rehearsed his testimony, but he hadn't been able to follow it. "Prince Mavor," he blustered. "You can't allow this kind of question. Magic spells are not allowed in obtaining evidence, and an aura is like a magic spell." Mavor looked at Drellor with distaste. "There is nothing magical about auras. They simply exist, as your hand exists. The fact that some species are unable to see them does not make them supernatural. Now sit down." "Answer the question, Grejor!" Tarnor said in a harsh voice. "Isn't it true that auras undergo characteristic changes when someone tries to hide something?" "An old wives' tale!" babbled Grejor, terrified Tarnor turned and nodded. Suddenly, one of the cloaked figures pulled off her hood. Grejor started as if he had received a jolt of lightning. Lita! He had been afraid of just this situation. He had tried to tell Drellor, but the fool had no idea about auras. - - - - - =============================================== Chapter Ten - Part Two B "Do you want to change your answer?" Tarnor sneered. Grejor was silent and looked at the witness section with hatred. "You are familiar with Lita, here, aren't you Grejor? Lita is an acknowledged expert on auras. She read your aura once before, didn't she? It's not an old wives' tale, it's a well known fact. I think all the elves in the assembly will agree with me that auras do indeed change with lies and concealment, am I right?" A chorus of "Ayes" came from the elves in the stands and the elven Council Representatives. Prince Mavor solemnly nodded his head. "And I think you will also agree that you have noticed these changes happening to Grejor's aura as he sat here and gave evidence against Reinald. I plan to ask both Lita and Prince Mavor to take the witness chair to testify concerning the changes they saw - two acknowledged experts who will tell you of the lies that Grejor has told today against the man that befriended him." Tarnor strode up to the witness and looked him in the eyes. "When did you start to hate Reinald, Grejor? Don't bother to lie, that will just be something else that Lita and Prince Mavor will have to testify to." Grejor merely returned a look of total hatred. "Didn't you start to hate him when Mage Mulder came, and Reinald started working with him and had no time for your training anymore?" Tarnor charged. "No answer. All right, how about this one? When did you start to plot against Reinald? When did you seek out those who practice the Black Arts, to try to find a way to get back at Reinald for ignoring you?" Grejor began to shout, "I never - ". Suddenly, his eyes stared in horror as a second hooded figure stood. Baalmas swept back his hood and looked directly at Grejor. The third cloaked figure sat still. "NOOOO!" screamed Grejor. "Drellor, you fool! I told you about my aura, but you wouldn't listen! No, you said go ahead and lie anyway, that everyone would believe me. You said they'd never be able to trace that spell, and now they have. You fool, you stupid conceited fool!" Suddenly Grejor bent down and pulled a long dagger from his boot and leapt to the side of Reinald's chair, holding the knife to the Mage's throat. Madness glinted in his eyes. Jourdain started to rise from his seat, but Mulder caught his wrist in a grip of iron, never taking his eyes from Grejor and Reinald. "All right. Lita knows about my aura and Baalmas will tell of my seeking a black magician to supply a spell. Zoalstra, there, will tell of the spell she made up for me. Do you want to know why I did it? I treated Reinald like a king, like a hero, and he humiliated me every chance he got. He wanted me to fail. He treated me like an idiot, a moron. And then Mulder came. Wonderful, perfect Mulder who had everything that I didn't have - unlimited powers, a life-bondmate who never even noticed my existence, all Reinald's respect and attention. And it got worse." Grejor laughed bitterly. "I couldn't believe Reinald could treat me any worse, but he did. After all my work, I was fit only for sweeping up all the bottles that Mulder broke because he couldn't do the simplest levitation spell. I wish I had just killed you, Reinald. And I won't get the chance now, will I?" He looked at Mulder with loathing. "Because Mulder's cast a shielding spell for you, hasn't he? I can feel the resistance against my knife blade. Damn you, Mulder! You're not a Mage, you're a witch! You can't even be poisoned!" Grejor reached across and grabbed Prince Mavor. He giggled insanely. "Here's one you haven't shielded, Mulder. Too bad I can't reach your little bondmate." He turned once again to Reinald. "But I know a better way to get you, Reinald! I put the spell on your precious little Prince Andalor; only I can take it off. Well, Andalor is going to stay the way he is - forever!" Grejor shoved Mavor to the floor and took a step backwards. Before anyone could move, with a flash of his dagger, he slashed his own throat from ear to ear. He dropped to the ground, gurgling and twitching horribly, then was still and silent as his blood ran out on the stone floor. Pandemonium broke out. While spectators shouted and screamed, Jourdain and Scully moved to Grejor's side, Scully only able to confirm that Grejor was beyond a healer's help. Jourdain assisted Prince Mavor to his chair, and then collared Drellor and summoned two guards to take charge of the shaking little man. Mulder crossed to Reinald's side, and put a comforting hand on the Mage's shoulder. Prince Mavor looked at Jourdain, who yelled "Quiet" at the top of his lungs. After several shouts, the throng finally settled down. Prince Mavor rose. "These events are unprecedented. Our traditions do not dictate to us how to deal with this situation. Obviously, Reinald is innocent; the guilty party has confessed and is dead. I am ordering the arrest of Drellor on the charge of conspiracy. Do I hear any objections?" Two or three of Drellor's noble lackeys called out "Aye" but they were the only ones. Drellor was taken away by the guards, to the catcalls of the spectators. Then Mavor declared, "For the record, I call a vote to determine Reinald's verdict. Who believes Reinald has been proved innocent?" There were affirmative shouts from nearly all the Representatives. "Guilty?" Incredibly, there were a couple of Dordinal nobles who shouted "Aye." They were roundly jeered by the spectators and the other Representatives. "Reinald is released and this Council is dismissed. Because of the events which have transpired, we will forego the closing ceremony." Prince Mavor sank into his chair, emotionally exhausted, as spectators and Representatives alike moved in a cacophonous animated tidal wave for the exits. - - - - - Back in Reinald's chambers, the five friends huddled around the fire drinking tea, as they had a scant week ago when this nightmare had first begun. "I just want to congratulate Tarnor," declared Jourdain. "He did a wonderful job." Tarnor shook his head. "We have Mulder and Scully to thank for the most part. Without the evidence that they uncovered, I wouldn't have had anything. The aura idea was brilliant, and finding Baalmas put the final nail in Grejor's coffin." "Literally, unfortunately," Reinald sighed. "I wish I had paid more attention. The boy couldn't help that he just didn't have strong enough powers. And I did ignore him shamefully the past several weeks." Mulder shook his head. "I, too, wish I had paid more attention, but for a different reason. When I was studying for my doctorate in psychology, we studied cases like Grejor. Scully, I'm sure you did too." Scully nodded. "Reinald," Mulder continued, "You never would have been able to give Grejor all the time and attention he thought he needed. He was shifting the blame for his lack of success away from his shortage of talent, which he couldn't accept, and on to your lack of attention and appreciation, which he could. I blame myself because I should have spotted Grejor's pathology and anticipated a problem. Besides, Reinald, we've been working to try to save the Realm. It may sound harsh, but I think that had to take precedence over one person's bent psyche." The language spell had a few problems, but the company understood most of what Mulder was trying to say. "One thing I don't understand," said Aldara. "If Zoalstra was dead, who was the third hooded figure?" Tarnor smiled. "I recruited Drellor's gargoyle servant, who was only too happy to help us against Drellor. I never intended to have him take his hood off. I just hoped that Grejor would assume what he obviously did - that Zoalstra was alive and ready to testify against him. If Grejor had been thinking straight, he would have known that there was no way anyone could have trusted Zoalstra in the witness chair, as crazy as she was." There was a knock on the door. Jourdain walked over and opened it to admit Corvay. The little elf was handed a mug of tea and shown to a seat. "I hate to be the voice of doom," began Scully, "But this is really only the tip of the iceberg. I mean, Reinald, I'm totally delighted you're free and it's a wonderful and necessary first step. But it's only that - a first step. The biggest battles lie ahead of us - ridding the Prince of his spell and especially, defeating the Dark Realm." Mulder caressed her hand, and her mind. "Reinald and I have a possible solution to the Prince's spell. We're not sure it will work. Since we don't have anything around that is under the same spell as the Prince, we can't test our little remedy. And we don't want to make things worse than they are right now. We wanted to consult with all of you. We need to weigh the benefits against the risks." Mulder looked around at all of them. "I'm aware that this will all be guesswork, hopefully educated guesswork. Corvay - your thoughts?" The little elf looked at everyone with bright, knowing eyes. "I am of the opinion that the longer the Prince stays in his current state, the harder it will be to both remove him from that state, and return him to health if he is removed from that state. There's no telling when, if ever, you could come up with a better plan. I think if you have a plan, put it into action now." "I don't know if anyone cares what I think," Aldara ventured, "But I'd be inclined to wait. And not for the reason you think. I'm sure that Reinald and Mulder will take all due care, and may even successfully bring the child back. But think about Wide River. Do we want to bring the child back to face an end like that? Our future is so unsure right now. Is it fair to bring him back only to suffer the fate of those poor people in Wide River?" The group was quiet for some time. "Admittedly, I hadn't thought of that," Reinald said. "I love the child, and the gods know I would not want him exposed to that. But he is also the Prince, the head of the Realm. As such, he has certain responsibilities, and he both knows and accepts that fact. His return to normal would have a very positive effect on the morale of our soldiers and on all the people of the Realm who need to be ready to sacrifice all they have to defeat the Realm's enemies. For that reason alone, the sooner we bring him back the better." He turned to Aldara. "I don't mean to sound hard and uncaring, my dear. Unfortunately, I must think not only as someone who loves Andalor, but also as Regent of this part of the Realm, and sometimes that must take precedence." Scully looked uncomfortable. "I can't help but think the Prince is in there, sentient, unable to move or communicate. Maybe it's because of a past personal experience of mine, only tiny fragments of memories - " Scully voice became choked and she shuddered. Immediately she felt Mulder in her mind, caressing and soothing, supporting and comforting. She communicated gratitude, and cleared her throat. "Anyway, if what I feel is true, we have to bring him back, as quickly as possible, before he has lasting effects from the experience that even Corvay can't heal." "I must say, too," Corvay piped up, "If Scully feels that way, there is a much better than average chance that she is correct. Her psi ability is much higher than that of anyone I know, and she may be able to sense the Prince's presence." Reinald took a deep breath. "Then, if no one has anything else to say, I think we need to come to a decision. Although I acknowledge the possible deleterious effects, I believe we have no other choice than to try to restore the Prince. Anyone opposed?" One by one they shook their heads, some firmly, some hesitatingly. Reinald nodded approvingly. "I took the liberty of discussing this possible course of action with the heads of the noble houses, the priests and with the non-human representatives. As expected, the nobles could not agree on anything but not agreeing, and the priests and Prince Mavor and the troll and gargoyle representatives were very supportive, regardless of the outcome. Are you ready, Mulder?" Solemnly, Mulder nodded. Scully suddenly felt very anxious. She knew all too well Mulder's overblown sense of responsibility. If this didn't work, he would find it very hard to ever forgive himself, especially where a child was involved. There was already so much that wasn't his fault that he felt guilty for, the last thing she wanted to see was something else on that list. Her mind sent a constant stream of love and support and trust to his. She saw a flicker of recognition and appreciation on his face, then he turned to her and smiled. They all went into Reinald's bedchamber where the Prince stood as he had since the previous week, his stone feet encased in a broken block of stone that had once been clear, spring water. Reinald lit eight candles and placed them at precise positions around the Prince. Mulder took a small stone dish of water, floated a fresh flower blossom in it, and placed it at the Prince's feet. The Mages then took up positions on either side of the Prince and spread their arms wide. Closing their eyes, they started chanting, and blue and white Mage-energy began snapping from their finger tips. The energy and power increased, until both Mages were shaking with the effort to control it. The cadence of the chant picked up, as did the volume. Suddenly, the Mages joined their hands, encircling the Prince in a finely woven screen of blue and white. They were now almost yelling the chant to be heard over the crackling of the power cage they had created. Finally, with a hoarse scream, they pulled their hands apart and collapsed on the floor. Between their prostrate bodies were eight candles, burned down to the holders, a dish with a stone flower, a puddle of muddy water, and a pale and shaky little boy. - - - - - The next hour was a busy one for everyone. Corvay took charge of Andalor, scooping the child up and placing him in Reinald's huge bed. He sat next to the child, holding his hand, reaching deep inside the child as a healer, assessing the damage done by the spell, starting the healing process. Scully looked at them anxiously - the child was very, very pale, and had not spoken a word. She went to the fire and put a pot of restorative on to warm. Then she helped the Mages to a sitting position and held the potion to their lips, assisting them to drink. Meanwhile, Aldara and Jourdain went to deliver the good news to the Council Representatives who had not yet departed for home, and had it announced from the battlements to the joyous cries of the crowd gathered below. The five gathered again by Reinald's fire an hour or so later. The Mages were exhausted, but satisfied that their spell had worked. But they all awaited the word of Corvay, who was still in with the Prince. Scully left the fire to check on Corvay, as she had every five minutes for the last half hour. This time she was gone longer, and emerged from the bedchamber supporting a weak and trembling Healer. Jourdain bolted from his chair and carried the little elf to a seat at the fireside, and Scully help him drink some restorative. It was several minutes before he had recovered the strength to talk. At last he sighed and sat up a bit straighter. "It was as Scully felt - the Prince was aware throughout the ordeal. He is not yet well. Several sessions will be needed to heal him completely, but he can be healed. Reinald - your speaking to him and reassuring him right after it happened made a huge difference to his state. Had you not done that, I may not have been able to restore him to health. Likewise, Aldara and Jourdain -" everyone looked at them, and they looked at each other, in surprise - "your visits to him when Reinald was imprisoned helped him to maintain a link with this world. Again, I'm not sure whether his mind would have survived without them. It will take a few days, and there may be a few lingering effects - nightmares and so on - but he will be well again. Don't leave him alone for a while. No excitement. Limit visitors to just ourselves, and a few of the Council Representatives, as necessary for matters of state, who can be trusted to behave themselves. Now, I must sleep. Jourdain, may I ask you for some help?" Jourdain lifted the old elf in his arms as he would a child. Aldara opened the door for them, and the three left for Corvay's quarters. Scully helped to pull Mulder to his feet. "Is there anything else you need, Reinald?" she asked. The Mage shook his head and smiled. "What more could I possibly ask for? I have my life, and my freedom, and Andalor. I don't want to make the gods envious - an old Realm expression, Scully. Take your bondmate back to your quarters. We've all done good work and it has been an exhausting day. When Corvay gives the word, there will be a day of celebration for the delivery of the Prince from this spell. The people need something to celebrate - the gods know there hasn't been much lately. Goodnight." Scully smiled at the Mage. "Goodnight, Reinald." She guided Mulder through the door and back to their chamber. She helped to get him undressed and into bed. For tonight, she assumed the nighttime duties he normally saw to, extinguishing all but one of the torches, stoking the fire, and bringing him a cup of tea. She lay quietly beside him, both of them too exhausted by the events of the day to speak. When he fell asleep, she eased the tea cup from his hand. Sliding out of bed, she put the cup on the table and put out the last torch. Then she crawled up beside him and lay in the shelter of his arms for the remainder of the night. - - - - - The party was in full swing three days later. Andalor scampered in and out of knots of people, acting very much as a normal eight year old boy at a party. They were all in their finest clothes, and the affair was made all the more glamorous by the many Council Representatives who had stayed on at Fairwood Keep to celebrate. An unseasonable warm turn in the weather allowed much of the party to take place in the courtyard. There were musicians and dancing and food hoarded for a special occasion was presented on long tables. Nobles mixed with common folk in a celebration that touched all the people in the Realm. Unnoticed was a small, bloody figure, half staggering, half dragging himself toward the sounds of merriment. As had happened so often in the last three days, he fell heavily, only to find the strength from his dwindling reserves to pull himself up again, leaving bloodstains on the ground where he had fallen. Aldara stood at a little distance, watching the revelers, Jourdain amongst them. He was rarely lighthearted these days, and it was good to see for a change. She saw Scully, looking radiant in a golden gown, floating on Mulder's arm in time to the music, the two of them as handsome and graceful a couple as she had ever seen. At present, Aldara was engaged in one of her favorite private pastimes - watching the sun go down behind the battlements. Not normally a contemplative person, she used this one time of the day for talking to herself and to the gods. She looked out over the shadows caused by the setting sun, the interplay of dark and light - and saw something move. The delicate, feminine partygoer was gone and the warrior surfaced. Drawing the knife from its sheath strapped to her leg, she followed the walls for cover as much as possible, her sharp eyes on the source of her concern. When she got to within a hundred feet, she recognized the huddled shape as Fossia, an elf who maintained a watchpost near the Vortex. "Help, we need help here! Healers!" She ran to the elf, who had again fallen. She lifted his head. "Stay quiet, help's coming." Within seconds, Jourdain, Corvay, Mulder and Scully were at her side, lifting the injured elf and carrying him to a bench made softer by the donation of cloaks from concerned onlookers. The Healer tried to establish contact. Fossia shook off Corvay impatiently, showing some typical elf temper with the last of his energy. "No, Healer, not yet. I did not drag myself all this way...to be put into a healing trance now. Jourdain! I must tell you...the Vortex...Hunters and Destroyers, pouring in...thousands amassing...our doom." The little elf finally surrendered to unconciousness and Corvay grabbed his hand to establish contact and start the healing trance. Jourdain looked at Aldara gravely. "Gather the Representatives for a special meeting. I'll find Reinald. It's started in earnest." Mulder looked at Scully, with concern and regret and sorrow in his eyes. "Party's over." End of Chapter 10 =========================================================================== From: jennyann@ix.netcom.com (Jennifer Lyon) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "Magician" Ch11/Pr1 NC17 (22/31) Date: 1 Jun 1995 01:48:40 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 Eleven - Part One (NC-17) Again, please NOTE - this is the NC-17 version of this section. The PG-13 version will be in the next post. Your choice!!!!! Fox Mulder pushed the doorflap aside, ducked his head and stepped into the tent. Immediately to the left of the door was a small table covered with fruits and simple breads; to the right was a large pile of parchment maps. In the middle of the tent, several brightly patterned cushions had been placed into a circle, surrounding a small open area. Scully and Jourdain were already seated on two of the big colorful pillows, each sipping at a steaming mug of the Realm's magical tea. "Can I have one of those?" Mulder asked wearily, dropping his lanky frame onto one of the empty cushions next to Scully, who handed out her cup to him with a ghost of smile. "You sure?" he questioned, looking at her critically. When had those lines developed around her mouth and eyes? Her blue eyes were cloudy, her lovely hair dusty and tightly wound in a now-characteristic braid. She was dressed in dusty green leather and light silver chain mail, her sword still hanging down her back. A warrior, calm and tense as a coiled spring. "Yes, I've already had enough to keep me wired for hours." Scully sighed and stretched, watching with hidden concern as her partner sipped at the hot tea. His skin had paled underneath its tan to a sickly yellow pallor. His eyes were red- lined and heavy-lidded, his delicate hands trembling slightly. She knew he had been pushing himself far too hard, the demands on the surviving Realm magicians increasing daily. And Mulder was always one to take more than his share of the responsibility. "You need to rest," she scolding him, uncomfortably aware of her own exhaustion. "I know, but it will have to wait for a while. We still have to get Erensto evacuated." He took a gulp of the tea, wincing as it scalded the back of his throat, sighing as he was rewarded with a warm rush in his belly. "Mulder..." Scully shook her head. He was right, there were too many lives at stake. Too much left to do. And far too little time left. Further conversation was halted as Reinald nearly staggered into the tent followed by the bulky Troll General, Kergidor. Andalor was barely a step behind them, tugging impatiently on the hand of the gargoyle leader Beerak. The elven Prince Mavor entered last, his thin, finely carved features haughty with disdain as he eyed Kergidor diving eagerly into the refreshments, juice running down his pointed jowls. Reinald took the seat next to Mulder, waving to young Andalor to sit next to him. The boy Prince did so quickly, his mobile features coalescing into a look of worried expectancy. Beerak sat down gravely, ignoring the food. Mavor followed suit, though not without a sharp look of disgust at Kergidor, who bustled over to the remaining cushion, even as he nibbled at a chunk of bread, crumbs spilling down onto his stained brown armor. Silence reigned for a few uncomfortable moments once everyone had been seated, eight pairs of eyes darting from one closed countenance to another, no one wanting to be the first to speak. Finally, Jourdain cleared his throat and began. "The East and South regions are lost. We've evacuated as many people as we could from the towns of Dreegan, Yellowfork, and Jinderling. The Gargoyles have cleared out of Goodearth caverns, the Elves have had to abandon Fairwood Glens. Mage Mulder will be aiding Mage Gera in evacuating Erensto this afternoon. That should clear out the last of the people in the area between here and the Fairwood crossing. So far, we've been able to hold the line at Fairwood Crossing, though the losses have been heavy. With the help of mages Flordan and Giels, we've been able to Gate in gargoyle and human reinforcement units, hopefully they'll be able to hold until tomorrow night. "We're setting up a staging ground here on the Uriin Plains, near the Sentinel cliffs. The river provides a natural barrier on the other side, giving us the chance to surround them - if we can draw them in. We'll swing troops around behind them and place archer units on the corners. One they're surrounded, Mages Reinald and Mulder will create the vortex in the center, our job will be to drive the Dark Army through it." Mulder and Reinald exchanged grim looks while Jourdain leaned forward to draw lines in the dirt floor with his knife edge, explaining the battle strategy in detail, even though they all knew it by heart. Many long hours of planning, arguing, hope and desperation had gone into the decision. If the two magicians failed at creating and holding the vortex, if the surrounding troop lines broke, letting the enemy escape, if the timing was wrong at any stage - it could result in disaster. Reinald gave the best assurances he could concerning his and Mulder's ability to control the vortex, though all were painfully aware of the small crater that now graced the top of one of the Sentinel cliffs. All knew this could easily blow up in their faces - all knew it was their best, and only, hope. Still, they discussed it yet again: the placement of troops and cavalry, archers and magicians. Each race had its own units which had to be coordinated with the others. Familiar arguments were raised and dismissed, almost by rote. Additional reinforcements were planned, some consisting solely of farmers and merchants, refugees who had traded their plows and wagons for knives and swords. Supply lines were given extra guards, healer positions were rearranged. Finally the discussion dwindled into a another painful silence. Only one last question to answer. "Who is going to lead them into the trap?" The words, spoken in Reinald's weary tones quivered in the air. "I will." Seven pairs of stunned eyes turned to stare at the red-haired woman. Her face was as calm as her voice, her eyes steady and certain. "Scully!" Mulder began to protest, his blood beginning to chill in his veins. She silenced him with a wave of her hand. "Someone has to do it, and you are all needed here. Jourdain has to organize the trap, Reinald and Mulder have nearly impossible responsibility as is. Andalor can't be put at risk while Kergidor, Mavor and Beerak are needed among their own peoples. That leaves me. I'll take a group of volunteers from among the soldiers, I don't think anyone should be compelled to do this." "You are needed here, too," Reinald protested. Scully shook her head. "Anyone can do what I do. You've got dozens of better trained healers, thousands of more experienced soldiers. And don't forget the Prophecy: 'Woman, born to be a mage's bond, Soldier, Healer, lead the fight.' I think that this is what the lines mean - that this is what I'm supposed to do." Again, she forestalled Mulder's protest, "I HAVE to do this. It will fail if anyone else does. I'm not sure how I know this, but I'm right." Good heavens, she thought, now I'm even starting to talk like Mulder. She was terrified of the prospect facing her, and yet she also felt an odd sense of peace - a sense of rightness. THIS was why she was here, what she had been training for over the long months. This was her role to play, and she couldn't hand it off to anyone else. A part of her wanted to laugh - intuitive knowledge was Mulder's style, not her's. But the growth of their mind-link had blurred the barriers between their minds, their personalities, their capabilities. Another part of her wanted to cry. She was so scared. Please don't shut me out, Mulder, she pleaded silently, I need you. Mulder's eyes glittered, his jaw held so tightly clenched his teeth began to ache. She reached out to touch his arm tenderly. "I'm sorry, Mulder, please...I have to do this." Feelings warred back and forth down the mental link between them, then shut off as he pulled down a seamless mental barrier between them. Ignoring the worried faces watching them, she pushed at it with all her energy, only barely keeping herself from screaming aloud. The air in the tent grew dark and heavy with moisture, thick with static charge, as Mulder battled with himself. Part of him wanted to scream, to throw her over his shoulder and lock her up somewhere safe until the battle was over. But another part of him respected and admired her courage. He'd come to understand over the past few months of the escalating war, in a way he had never done before, just how ferocious a warrior his partner was. She was in her element on the battlefield, fierce, relentless and unstoppable. Sometimes it frightened him, the way she scythed her way through the enemy, sword flashing, eyes blazing blue fire. But he also couldn't forget her gentler side, the graceful, elegant beauty who melted in his arms, the woman whose love made him whole. He couldn't let her do this, he knew the pain of losing her would destroy him. To lose her would be losing himself - he would not live without her. Yet he also knew that nothing he could say would stop her. "Mulder, for goodness sake's stop it. Ground yourself now!" Reinald reached out to grab Mulder's hand as heavy black clouds formed in the pointed top of the tent. Mulder yanked his arm away and leaped to his feet. Surveying them all with ice-cold eyes, he turned to leave. "Maybe a good soaking will bring you to your senses," he said bitterly. Buckets of rain poured downward within the tent even as Mulder stopped out into the bright morning sunshine. - - - - - The cliffs rose in huge, nearly flat sheets of white-lined rock straight up from the fields below. Only the most careful observer would note the small dots of caves and crevices that wound their way into the base of the towering stone slabs. The hidden province of the gargoyle miners, some of the caverns were filled with huge crystal formations and bubbling pools of subterranean heated water. It was beside one such pool that Scully and Tarnor found Mulder, his boots tossed carelessly aside, his feet plunged into the hot water, while he rested on his back across a slab of bright red crystal. Staring straight up at the glittering stalactites hanging in massive formations from the cavern's ceiling, he didn't react to the echoing sounds of their footsteps. Scully let go of her anxious guide's hand, and indicated he should go back with a tilt of her head. In response to the gargoyle's worried look, she smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "We'll be okay," she reassured. "Go on." Glancing from her to the lanky recumbent figure on the rock, Tarnor shook his head, then ambled back out of the cavern leaving them alone. Scully walked over and sat down beside Mulder, tucking her feet underneath her. He turned his head to look at her silently for a moment, his eyes dark and clouded. "Mulder..." she started to speak, but he interrupted her with a wave of his hand. "Do what you have to do, Scully," he said tonelessly, turning his head back to continue glaring at the cavern's glittering ceiling. "Stop it!" she yelled. "Just stop it!" "Stop what?" Mulder's voice was calm and reasonable, he glanced at her with wide-eyed surprise. "Stop shutting me out," she insisted angrily, reaching out to tighten her hand around his upper arm. "I don't know what you mean, Scully," he replied even as he disentangled himself from her hand and sat up, putting several long inches between them. "You know exactly what I mean, Mulder. I won't let you do this. Not now." "I'm not..." "Ouch!" Mulder rubbed his cheek, staring at her with an aggrieved, little-boy innocence. "You hit me!" "Yes," she replied firmly, "and I'll do it again, unless you cut the crap and start talking to me." One look at the set of her jaw and the determination in her bright eyes and he knew she really meant it. "Scully..." he paused for a moment, not knowing how to begin, what to say. "Yes..." she prodded, none too gently. Miserable, he curled up into a ball, pulling his feet up out of the water, pressing his knees to his chest, and hugging his legs. "Don't do this, Scully. Let someone else go. It doesn't HAVE to be you!" His voice rose, slipping off the last word. She closed her eyes for a brief second, then looked straight into his eyes. "I wish it didn't have to be me, Mulder. Believe me, the last thing I ever wanted to do is play bait for an army of monsters. But it has to be, just as it has to be you and Reinald who have to find a way to end this thing. I know I am asking you to put your life on the line too, that if I die, the life- bond could pull you under with me..." Her voice broke off as Mulder shook his head head at her, then turned to stare down into the bubbling, steaming water. Even without the open link between their minds she knew instantly he was thinking that his life didn't matter, only hers did. That realization made her angry. "Do you think I haven't worried about you?" She shouted. "About what it might do to you to try to create a vortex here? Reinald's one attempt at manipulating an already existing vortex nearly killed him." Suddenly it all poured out of her. "How many times have you ran off and put yourself into danger without even telling me? Mulder! Do you have even the slightest idea how I felt each time you disappeared, running off to Wisconsin, Arecibo - the damned North Pole, for God's sake! If I hadn't gotten there in time, you'd be DEAD! Dead..." She stopped for a moment, drawing a shuddering breath. He opened his mouth to speak, but she stalled him with one burning glance. "No, Mulder, this time you're going to hear me out. I'm sick and tired of your trying to protect me, then taking unconscionable risks with your own life. We're supposed to be partners, supposed to share the risk. God knows I don't want to do this alone - I don't particularly want to do it all - but I have to do it, with or without you. So which is it going to be? Are you going to trust me to carry my share of the responsibility, or do I have to go it alone? Because, if you won't be with me, then I might as well go play bait - that's about all that will be left of me." Drained, furious, terrified, she came to a stop and buried her head in her arms while Mulder stared at her, his jaw hanging in amazement. "Dana?" His voice was barely a whisper as he reached out to touch her arm. She jerked away from the contact, the tears that has been threatening finally cascading down her cheeks in audible sobs. "Dana, I'm sorry," he replied helplessly, totally unable to cope with her tears. He'd only seen her cry twice before, after she'd been kidnapped by Pfaster and when she was forced to euthanize the injured man at Wide River. He'd hated it then, but this was even worse because it was HIS fault. The barrier he'd been holding up between them shifted, wavered, and collapsed under the flood of his guilt. Scully shook as she was hit by the waves of shame, Mulder felt his own eyes begin to fill with salty moisture as he was rocked by her fear and anguish. Almost before either one of the knew they were moving, the space between them was breached, Mulder wrapping his arms around her and clutching her against him. She buried her head against his chest nestling into the iron warmth of his embrace. After an all too brief embrace, she forced herself to push him away. As powerful as their psychic connection was, this was something she had to say aloud, if only for emphasis. "This is NOT your fault." She articulated each word slowly and precisely. "You are NOT responsible for bringing me here, or for putting me in danger. Coming here was an accident - or fate, perhaps - and I have chosen all my own risks since I've been here. Unless you brought the Destroyers and their minions here, you are not at fault for any of this. One more feeling of guilt and I'll really kick your butt...and don't think I can't." Mulder let a bubble of laughter work its way out of his throat. "I would never doubt your capability, Scully. My bottom is sore enough from the many times you've dumped me on it." "Good," she replied, closing her eyes and snuggling deeper into his arms, breathing in the unique, familiar smell of his body. They held onto each other for what seemed like hours, the emotions racing back and forth between them. Finally, the internal storm calmed enough to let them exchange more coherent thoughts. Foremost in both their minds was the horror of losing the other. Even if Scully didn't bait the trap, there was no guarantee that either one would survive the upcoming battle. Neither could tolerate the idea of the other being hurt or killed, both wanted to protect the other, almost at any cost. But in the end, they both knew there was no way to avoid the upcoming war and their roles in it. They couldn't abandon the friends they'd made here. Both felt called to try to stop the Dark invasion of this peaceful world, especially since they knew that it was their world that had originally created the vortex. "Fox," she lifted her head to meet his liquid brown eyes with the gentle blue of hers. "Please help me through this. I..." He silenced her with a passionate kiss, his mind reaching out to twine with hers, offering acceptance, understanding, support...though he couldn't hide the knife edge of fear, the twist of guilt, the buried anger that still colored his thoughts. She responded eagerly, drinking in the taste of his mouth, suckling on his tongue as it stroked behind her teeth. Her mind fused to his, mixing her own emotions with his, fear and desire, love and terror. He reached up and traced her nose and eyelids, then drew his finger down across her cheekbone to her mouth. She sighed softly as he rubbed her lips, then stretched out her tongue to lick the sensitive pad of his fingertip. Moaning deep in his throat, he slipped his hand under her chin and tilted her head upwards to again meet his descending mouth. She arched herself upwards to accept the demands of his kiss, her mouth hungrily devouring the taste of his. She twined her fingers though the silky darkness of his hair, using battle- trained muscles to pin his head still while she thrust her tongue deeply between his teeth, almost touching the back of his throat. A touch of laughter echoed from his mind to hers, and he closed his teeth down on her tongue while he stroked the underside of it with the tip of his. As their tongues, teeth, mouths continued to duel and caress, he ran his hands over every curve of her body, delighting in the firmness of the muscles, the softness of her breasts, the heat between her legs. Emitting a whistling groan that was swallowed into his mouth, Scully shifted her position to allow his hand deeper access to the now-aching region between her legs, wishing for a way to strip the clothes off their bodies without having to lose one second of his touch on her or her touch on him. His lips curving into a smile as he moved downwards to suckle on the sensitive skin in the hollow of her throat, he soundlessly sent her the thought, 'Your wish is my command.' As always, some amazement penetrated the whirlwind of desire possessing her mind when Scully felt Mulder summon and focus the mage energy. She shivered slightly in his embrace as the electric-like currents spun a fine, blue, glowing web around both of their bodies, leaping from his skin to hers like mini- lightning bolts. She felt the strength of his will fighting for - and finding - control, and then the sudden twist of release. "Whhat?" she gasped, as the heavy chain mail and leather she was wearing glowed blue, then melted away, leaving her skin exposed to the hot and cold currents of air. Drawing her hands down his now-naked back, she pressed herself tighter against the heat of his skin, giggling slightly against his forehead, then lowering her head so that she could meet his amused, green- tinged eyes. He gave her a slow smile of such endearing warmth that her heart skipped a beat, a mix of tenderness and passion rushing through her heart. "Dana..." he breathed her name in so soft a velvety whisper, that she wasn't certain whether he'd said it aloud, or simply thought it. She responded with her mind, sending her own private image of him back down the bond-link; not "Fox," not "Mulder," but rather the very essence of him as seen through the filter of her love. "Dana..." again came his fully psychic response, as they shared another deep kiss, bodies pressing together, sliding past each other in search of the deepest possible contact. Using his shoulders as leverage, she pushed herself upwards to move her legs around his back. He slipped a hand under her and supported her as she came to rest upon him, arms and legs now locked behind his back. Then leaning downwards, he tried to lower her to the surface of the crystal beneath them. However, without the friction created by the now-absent clothing, the slick surface of the rock gave way, and entwined together, they slid downwards, landing with a splash into the heated pool below. Both came up sputtering, still grasping onto each other. "Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, rubbing the dripping hair back off his forehead. "Yes, I'm okay," she said with laughter in her voice. He grinned back at her, his eyes alight with the sight of her beauty. Standing on the bottom of the pool, the water lapping about his hips, he reached up to push his fingers through her hair, finding and releasing the pins one by one. She closed her eyes and leaned back slightly in the hot water which just barely covered the hardened tips of her breasts, enjoying the sense of utter contentment. The handful of pins clattered on the rocks as Mulder tossed them away. Then ran his hands through her hair, bringing it down to cover her shoulders and upper slopes of her flushed breasts in a riot of auburn tendrils. She sighed softly, not yet opening her eyes, her hips pressed up against his abdomen, her back half-floating on the water. He lowered one hand to rest under the small of her back, caressing the wet skin in slow gentle circles, while he leaned down over her to press soft kisses against her face and neck. Moving her hands around his back to anchor tightly against him, she abandoned herself to his caresses, delighting in the tingles of the nerves within her skin as his hands and mouth roamed over her body, ever so slowly, ever so tenderly, exploring each sweet, scented inch. The water bubbled over her skin, frothing between his fingers, flowing in warm waves over her belly and chest, meeting the probe of fingers into the most sensitive parts of her body. He traced her back and buttocks with one hand, while the other cupped the soft mounds of her chest, bringing a pebbled nipple up into the demanding heat of his mouth. A cry of ecstasy escaped her lips as he nibbled and bit at her, generating a furnace of need in the pit of her belly. While his mouth continued to suckle at her breasts, he drew one hand up the insides of her thighs in long sure stokes, pressing the palm of his hand deeply into the solid, muscled flesh; teasing the skin of her abdomen with light brushes of the fingertips of his other hand. Digging her hands into the powerful muscles of his shoulders, she convulsed up against him, legs spreading outward in invitation, her head falling backwards to rest on the water, her hair fanning out around them. Lifting his head to kiss her already swollen, red lips, he then looked deeply into her eyes as he met her unspoken command, plunging two if his fingers into the moist depths of her body, using his thumb to find and caress the throbbing center of her desire. His body shook with hers, the strength of her orgasm flooding them both in concentric waves of pleasure, drawing a cry from him as he struggled to maintain his control. Floating down to awareness, she gave him a glowing smile, claiming another deep kiss, then shifted to an upright position. Clamping her knees around his hips, she began to return his caresses, exploring his body with her hand and mouth, teasing his small nipples, tracing each line of muscle and bone. Sighing with delight, he gently lifted her head so he could look into her eyes. Her face was bright with love and amusement, joy and pleasure, her eyes wide and brilliant, her mouth parted in a gentle smile. Wet strands of bright red hair framed her face, a few tendrils pasted to the creamy skin. His eyes darkened in a returning flood of desire as his mind told her in a way that could never be verbalized just how beautiful she was. Her smile deepened as she returned the wave of love and admiration, leaning up to share a gentle soothing kiss. They rested in each other's arms for a few moments enjoying the simple closeness. Then, as desire slowly began to build again, they moved in total unison to sheath his aroused manhood into the moist center of her body. She slid down over him in perfect ease, fitting him like a glove. Tightening her vaginal muscles around him instinctively, she locked her arms and legs back around his shoulders and waist, glorying in the sense of oneness. He cupped her bottom with strong, but gentle hands and began to move her slowly against him. Sighing with pleasure, she used the satin- sheathed iron of his shoulders as a ballast, going with his movements, quickening the pace at which she slid along his length. Again claiming her mouth, his tongue mimicked the motions below, causing her to purr deep in her throat. Her body surrendering to the power of his, yet equally demanding in its pursuit of their ultimate union; she answered each thrust of his hips with a thrust of hers, each plunge of his tongue with a plunge of hers, rocketing them both into a maelstorm of ecstasy and fulfillment. Minds melding into the heat of their bodies, emotions and sensations feeding off each other, they slid over the edge of the volcano and tumbled into the furnace below, neither hearing the other's cry - or their own - as they again fused into one being: one mind, one body, one soul. - - - - ========================================== Chapter Eleven - Part Two "You are not going." Jourdain's voice was velvety steel, his expression forbidding. Dwarfed, but unintimidated, Aldara glared up at the big man. "I am going. Scully needs me." She enunciated each word slowly and carefully, "There is no way that I am going to let her face this without me." Pivoting on her heels, she turned away. "No, you are my officer and you have a job to do here." Worry and terror driving his anger, Jourdain reached out to grab her arm, pulling her back against him, only to jump back in shock as he found a knife pressed to his belly. "Don't ever touch me like that again," Aldara's eyes flashed emerald fury, her jaw gritted in fury. "And don't ever assume that just because you're bigger than me that you can push me around. This is a volunteer mission, and I am going whether it meets your fancy or not. I've taken care of myself quite well since I was a child, I can do so now." She poked him with the tip of the knife, then spun away, her small strides still eating up the ground as she left him behind. "Aldara!!!" he yelled after her, but she was gone, slipping into the chaos of the crowded camp with practiced ease. "By the gods," he swore, slumping to the ground. Of all the impossible, outrageous, reckless women in the Realm, why had he gotten stuck with that one. But a voice inside him reminded him all too clearly of why he had come to love the fiery, dark half-elf. He'd thought he'd never feel again the way he had about his late wife - and perhaps that was true. His feelings for Aldara were very different than his feelings for the sweet, gentle Niera. One had been his solace, his haven, the other was a constant pinprick under his skin; he couldn't stop arguing with her, he couldn't stop wanting her. And now she'd decided to risk herself on a suicide mission. He buried his head in his hands as he sat dejectedly in the dirt, feeling an intense sympathy for the foreign mage. Somehow Jourdain doubted Mulder had gotten any further with Scully than he had with Aldara. - - - - - Blinking as he walked out into the sunshine, Mulder turned to Scully who was walking silently beside him. "You are really going to do this, aren't you?" "Yes, I have to," she replied. "Just as you have to help Reinald create the vortex." She laughed, but it was an unhappy sound. "I think I may be safer with the Dark Forces than you will be messing with that much energy." She came to a halt and peered anxiously up at him. "Do you really think that you can handle this?" He stopped in mid-stride and turned back to look down at her. Shrugging his shoulders, he answered, "I'm not sure. Reinald was able to open it to bring us through, and we have been able to recreate it on a small sale, though not for long. I guess we won't know until we try - it's too dangerous to practice in full-scale - so we'll find out tomorrow night." "That's not exactly encouraging, Mulder." She said, walking up past him towards the camp. "I know," he responded, falling in step beside her. "But its the only way to stop them. We'll never win with swords and knives. What I wouldn't give for a truckload of machine guns." "I'd prefer a couple stealth bombers, or better yet, a couple Patriot missiles." They grinned at each other, then both sighed and shook their heads. No use dreaming for the impossible. In silent, tense contemplation of the battle ahead, they walked together into the camp. - - - - - Fairwood Crossing was no more than a deep crevasse between two sharp mountain peaks, a narrow winding ridge of rock that could carry no more than one horse, or two men walking abreast. It hugged the curves of the mountain edge, small loose pebbles tumbling down across and over it to vanish into the dark depths of the ravine. A few scraggly vines and trees clung desperately to its edge, their roots digging deep into the unsteady earth, clinging precariously to life. Dana Scully felt like she was sitting on the edge of just such a precipice as she stood looking across the empty air to the darkened landscape beyond. On the other side of the mountain, the earth crawled with creatures worse than her most terrible nightmares. Things with the eyes of and mouths of beasts in twisted human faces wandered among lizard-like beings with foot-long jaws and layered rows of reddened teeth, half-human, half-lupine creatures with glowing eyes and clawed feet, blood-covered shapes that writhed and slithered along the ground, their featureless, eyeless heads shifting and shaking with every movement, and shimmering black spider webs that appeared and disappeared in pockets of pure dark nothingness that swallowed the very air itself. The Realm soldiers guarding this side of the path were worn and haggard, eyes haunted and red-lined. They spoke in no more than whispers, heads jerking in response to the slightest sound, even the barest whistle of the wind. Scully turned to meet Aldara's hooded green eyes, nodding slightly, receiving the slightest flicker of a response. Behind the two women, the remainder of the volunteer unit stood in grave silence, seven men and two women, each a survivor, each having lost all that was worth living for to the nightmare they were preparing to face again. Scully didn't know each of the stories in detail, but she'd seen enough over the past months to have a painfully accurate idea of what the tales might be. She had picked up too many pieces of human wreckage. And that was not ignoring the horrors suffered by the other races of the Realm, to Scully they were all 'human' now - as was anyone capable of love and goodness - in comparison to the living nightmares crawling on the rocks beyond the all-too-short divide. As it became obvious that dusk was beginning to fall, Scully drew a deep breath and sent a fervent prayer upwards to all and any Gods there might be, her hand pressing unconsciously into the hollow of her throat where her mother's cross lay hidden under her leather tunic and the heavy silver-armor. Then turning back to lead her nervous horse back away from the path's edge, she barked out a staccato series of instructions to the guards. "They'll try to cross as soon as the sun goes down. Hurj, you and your archers should fire some warning shots, then pull back up into the caverns to your right. Mulder and Flordan will have a Gate ready to retrieve you. When the time comes, move FAST. We'll have a cavalry unit ready to come through from the other side to flank in behind the Dark Army as soon as it passes. "Jakeer, you and your people should give them a good fight. Make them feel like they're working for it, but do not sacrifice yourselves unnecessarily. Let them think you're retreating, then get out of the way. Reinald and Giels have a Gate set up just over the next rise to your left, as soon as I give the signal, get to it, and leave things to us. There'll be a troll unit ready to come through after you've cleared the Gate." Eyes grim, she turned back to her ten volunteers. "This is it. If there is anyone who wants to back out now, no one will question you." She peered intently from one set, determined face to another, each met her gaze squarely, fiercely. "We're with you," Aldara's voice was deadly calm, only the glitter of her emerald eyes betraying the emotions within. Like the others, she held herself like a rattlesnake prepared to strike. Scully took a deep breath, wishing she could talk her friend out of this, but knowing deep inside that nothing she could say would change the half-elf's stubborn mind. And Scully couldn't help feeling a rush of gratitude that her friend was here with her. It helped immeasurably not to be facing this alone. "You're not alone...never alone..." came the softest of echoes in the corner of her mind. "Mulder," she sighed under her breath. Even over several kilometers, their life-bond was strong enough for him to be heard. She closed her eyes for a brief second savoring the love and support that trickled over that tenuous, precious link. Then she opened her eyes and nodded, accepting Aldara's words on behalf on the small company. "Okay, we'll settle in behind Jakeer's group. Stay back until I signal, then race forward to fill the breach while the others slip away. We'll charge the lead creatures, sting them as hard as we can, then run back away. Be QUICK!" She glared at them, trying to force her orders home. "We want to anger them, bring them after us. And we need to get out of it alive. They won't follow us into the trap if we're dead. So it doesn't matter if you kill, maim, or miss your target. One strike and then RUN! Is that understood!" Ten heads nodded understanding, ten pairs of eyes met hers in unblinking concordance. Before Scully could give the order to take their positions, one of the sentry's gave a ringing yell. "They're coming, they're coming!" Without a single more word spoken, the assembled Realm forces scattered into position, each person, human, elf, or gargoyle finding their assigned spot in a rapid, noiseless scramble. Scully and her unit mounted their horses in a unison, fluid motion, racing back to shelter behind a big outcrop of granite stone. Peering just around the edge, Scully's eyes widened in a mix of terror and rage as she watched the flood of creatures begin to cross the divide. Arrows whistled in the darkened air as Hurj and his gargoyle archers let fly a deadly volley of spell-tipped arrows. Screams rent the air as four of the hunters and one of the crawlers stumbled, two sliding from the edge. The other two bodies were simply ignored by their fellows, crushed underneath as more and more of the monsters pushed their way across. As the first Destroyer passed the mangled bodies, it swooped down a long claw and picked up a broken forearm and bit into it with manic pleasure. Two more volleys of arrows, the last fire-tipped, then the archers fell back, melding into the rocks like shadows. The attention of the Dark forces was immediately seized by the shrieking battle cry of the human soldiers. Names of the various clan houses filling the air, they took up position at the edge of the pass, a place so narrow, the creatures had to attempt to pass one by one. The battle raged for a brief span of time, a time that still seemed endless to Scully and Aldara as they watched from their sheltered vantage point. The hunters and crawlers clambered over the fallen bodies heedlessly, the soul-eaters leaping into the air, crying their hunger towards the rising moons. Slowly, ever so slowly, the human forces slipped backwards, giving up ground inch by apparently reluctant inch. One soldier, overcome with fury and terror, ignored his orders and threw himself up over the backs of the hunters, managing to launch a flashing knife directly into the eyes of the lead Destroyer, before he fell to the ground to be torn apart limb by limb between a soul-eater and a small hunter. The doomed man's screams of mixed triumph and excruciating pain mixed with those of the blinded monster as it drew the knife out its eyes, blood spurting from the wound. Other men fell too, one drawn into the gaping mouth of a misshapen crawler, another tossed up into the air to fall into the mouths of three hunters. Another soldier used his sword to cleave off his own leg at the knee, leaving the bloody stump in the mouth of a soul-eater, dragging himself backward on one leg, until another soldier could carry him out of the way. As the monsters slowly fanned out onto the ledge, Scully gave a piercing whistle which was taken up by Aldara and Jakeer. In a carefully planned and perfectly executed drill, the two forces changed positions before the Dark Forces even knew it was occurring. Blinded by the taste of blood and flesh, and consumed by the driving need for more, they never noticed that the faces of their targets altered. Jakeer and his men melded back into the shadows, slipping up the rocks and out of sight, while Scully and her small unit charged forward with whooping cries and swords flashing brightly in the double-moonlight. Scully rode like an avenging angel, her hair a glowing red, her eyes flashing blue fire, her sword scything through the air like a lightning bolt. Aldara was her dark mirror, hair floating around her face in a ebony cloud, eyes brighter than emeralds, sword in one hand, knife in the other, controlling her terror- stricken stallion with no more than the pressure of her knees. Side by side they drove straight for the lead monsters, swiping out in every direction with the deadly silver blades. Scully choose one large hunter, and in one precisely- timed stroke, half-severed its neck, then yanking back on the reins with her other hand, she pivoted her rearing horse on its hind legs and raced back the way she had come. Aldara was only seconds behind her, leaving the small silver knife embedded in the dripping nose of the crawler that had consumed one of the soldiers, her sword burning with the guts of a soul-eater. Seven of the others were quickly behind them, leaving two casualties behind, a woman whose screams of triumph degenerated into agony as her horse was literally eaten out from under her. Falling into the claws of the monsters, she bravely took two of them with her into death. The last man almost made it free, but was taken from behind by one of the dark spider webs, his cries literally sucked out of his mouth. Not waiting to let it drain him slowly, he found enough remaining strength to sever his own throat in one desperate slash of his knife. Howls split the air as his spurting blood creating a feeding frenzy among the monsters, tumbling over each other to steal a taste of the sticky red fluid. Then in a burst of resumed blood-lust, they chased blindly after the fleeing riders, pressing each other onward in a violent stampede, causing the ground itself to shake, seemingly in revulsion of the horrors that ran and crawled over its helpless surface. Just barely holding a small distance between them and their pursuers, Scully and her group rode like the wind, knees and feet digging into the sides of horses that hardly needed the direction. nothing would have stopped the frightened animals now. Nothing, but a misstep on the rocky ground. "Aldara!!!!" Scully screamed in horror as her friend's horse stumbled and crashed to the ground a few paces in front of her, rolling its huge weight over the tiny half-elf. "Go! Go!" Scully ordered the others, swooping down off her horse to pull Aldara away from the wounded steed, which was struggling to find its feet, whinnying in pain as it broken leg couldn't take the weight. "Get out of here," Aldara yelled through gritted teeth at Scully, trying to push her away. Scully didn't bother wasting the breath on reply, she simply grabbed Aldara under her arms and yanked her to her feet, causing Aldara to gasp in pain as weight came down on a shattered foot. The howls of the monsters getting closer and closer behind them, Scully tried desperately to lever Aldara onto her horse, but was unable to do so. Slipping in and out of consciousness, Aldara was dead weight in Scully's arm, her small size belying the heaviness of her well-trained muscles. A whinnying scream rent the air as Aldara's horse was claimed by a pair of soul-eaters. Scully turned to look over Aldara's shoulder, only to find herself looking straight into huge open mouth of a hunter. It grinned wickedly at her, almost willing to play with a helpless prey before claiming it. "Noooo!" Scully wasn't sure if the cry was even hers, as she somehow found strength she didn't know she had to toss Aldara up onto the back of the other horse. Then she drew her sword, pivoting warily as she realized they were surrounded. One of the hunters swiped out at her and she took its foreclaw off in one clean sweep. Two more circled in on her, and she barely escaped being crushed between them, only her small size and quick speed saving her. Ducking and twisting, she fought what she knew was a hopeless battle, praying only to take as many of them with her as she could. "Nooo," another cry of rage and terror split through her mind, this time accompanied by a wave of burning energy. "Mulder!" she screamed her name as a soul-eater rushed between her legs, spilling her to the ground, the sword clattering out of her hand as it struck a jagged rock. The creatures moved in on her, only to jerk back whining as bolts of blue lightning sizzled across her skin and up though the air. Thunder roared above, as the air thickened. "Aaahhh," Scully groaned aloud, her body convulsing on the ground as unbelievable currents of power coursed through her, setting her veins on fire, sending shocks racing up every nerve in her body. Drawn in by the alluring mage energy, the two soul-eaters grew closer in an attempt to feed, but found themselves tossed several feet in the air as a flash of white lightning hit the ground between them, mixing with the blue fire sparking the air around Scully. Stumbling to her feet, she felt the fire grow in her until it was nearly unbearable, unable to understand or control the incessant waves of energy that flowed through her. "Mulder!" she cried again, body jerking again as his mind flew along the streams of power, fusing with hers, bringing the control she needed. Together, minds melded to one purpose, they created a ring of blue flames around Scully, her horse, and the unconscious Aldara. Then surrendering control of part of her mind to Mulder, allowing him maintain the power through her, she forced her aching body up onto the rearing, wild-eyed horse, reining it in tightly while she secured Aldara to the saddle, the wounded half elf's arms and legs hanging limply off either side of the horse. Once they were both settled on the horse, Scully sat for a moment, amazed by the incredible waves of power that flowed into her mind and out of her body, utterly controlled by the fierce will of her life-mate. She'd experienced him in her mind before, and had felt him exercise his talent, but never quite so intimately. This time she was part of it, she could direct it, direct him. The sense of power was almost overwhelming, she felt exultant, charged, like she was riding a whirlwind. But a moaning sob from Aldara broke her concentration, and she reluctantly eased back on the link with Mulder. Sensing instantly what she needed, he gave her one deep rush of love and affection, then released the link - and the mage-energy - in one booming, blinding explosion. Shielding her eyes, Scully forced her horse into an almost instant gallop, her head and body bent down over its neck, her feet pounding into its flanks. snorting, it raced over the rocks, kicking up clouds of dirt, eating up the ground in long rapid strides. Holding on to both the horse and Aldara for dear life, Scully drove them forward at an nearly impossible pace, actually catching up with and passing the remainder of her troop. They hardly noticed she was there, never altering their run, never looking behind. Together, they led the Dark Army through the mountains, across a trickling stream and up onto the edge of the Urrin plains, bringing their bloodlust-blinded pursuers ever deeper into the trap. End Chapter Eleven ========================================== Chapter Twelve - Part 1 Jourdain stood at the cavern's lip staring out over the dusty plains. Turning, he paced back and forth in the shadows, pausing every so often to peer again over the moonlit grassland, watching for the tell-tale signs on movement on the horizon that would signal the approach of the enemy led by the remainder of Scully's small troop. A man more accustomed to action than contemplation, Jourdain felt itchy and uneasy. But with the troops were all set and waiting, the Gates installed, everyone in place, all he could do was wait. Already the Dark Army was on the move, heading straight for the trap that had been so carefully set. A trap - or a disaster - Jourdain wasn't sure what the outcome would be. His heart twisted in his breast as he recalled Mage Mulder's half-sorrowing, half-reassuring words. Only six members of the original ten volunteers had still been alive when they passed the sentries hiding in the abandoned village of Erensto. Two had fallen in the first skirmish, two more along the road. Almost three - the thought made Jourdain want to scream with his sense of helplessness. Mulder had insisted that Aldara was alive, clinging stubbornly to life in Scully's arms. "Stubborn," Jourdain laughed bitterly, that certainly described the fiery, dark- haired woman who had become the center of his life, even in the middle of what could become the end of their world. Briefly closing his eyes in agony, he prayed that she would make it through this alive, though he was well aware of the irony of hoping for one person's survival, when all could perish. "Jourdain?" Mulder stepped up beside the bigger man so quietly, Jourdain didn't notice he was there until the mage's voice broke the silence. Pulling into a fighting stance automatically, Jourdain forced himself to relax as he recognized his companion. "Any word?" Mulder tensed, then shrugged, his eyes darkening. "They're covering ground pretty well, but it should still be another hour before they get to the change point. The replacement unit is ready - and getting anxious. Gera is holding the Gate, we'll bring them directly to the cavern Corvay has preempted as a Healing site." He brushed long tendrils of black hair out of his eyes, absently wishing that he'd taken the time to cut it, but there never had been the time to think of such things. The few stolen moments not spent in preparation for this night had been focused solely on Scully. He didn't begrudge a second of that time, he just wished there had been more. "They are alive," Mulder knew he was reassuring himself as much as the grizzled soldier standing tensely beside him. "My sense for Scully increases as she gets closer. She's nearly exhausted, but still hanging on. The images are shaky, but I think Aldara is unconscious, but alive. Perhaps it is best she's not aware right now." Jourdain nodded his head, still eyeing the plains, not trusting himself to speak. With total understanding, Mulder reached out to grasp the other man's shoulder, then silently re- entered the cave. - - - - - Bending down over the neck of the sweating horse, Scully hung on for dear life as they raced across the small stream, spewing up splashes of ice-cold water. The wind tore at the skin of her face and hands, whipped her hair loose from its bindings, and bit at her lungs. Clenching her teeth, she urged the increasingly exhausted animal below her onward with tightly wedged knees, though the whining howls and bitter stench of the horde following all too closely behind was a much stronger stimulus to the horse's instincts than the weakening pressure of its rider. Tears stinging her bloodshot eyes as she lifted her head to gauge their course, Scully tightened her grip on Aldara's limp body, and pulled the horse slightly to the right. It resisted for a moment, then gave in, for one direction was as good as another, as long as it was away from their pursuers. Scully didn't even bother to look behind her to see if the remnants of her small company had followed her lead, if they were still alive, they would be there. If they weren't, she didn't want to know. Closing down her mind to anything except the motion, the ground speeding away under the clatter of the horse's hooves, she focused solely on staying awake. Almost there, almost there, almost there...the words kept repeating in her mind, a mix of hope and utter desperation. - - - - - "Go!" Karvan screamed, spurring his big white horse through the arching light of the Gate leading a group of seven elven warriors dressed in yellow leather and bright silver mail. Together the eight galloped in a neat arrowhead formation, Karvan leading, Guiran and Teedin forming the point. Breaking around a pile of crumbled rock, they burst out onto the far edge of the Uriin plains. Running at angle, they soon pulled up beside the ragged remnants of Scully's troop. Karvan immediately recognized the Traveller woman, her auburn hair blowing out behind her like a banner in the wind, the body of his half-cousin laying in front of her. The closest of her remaining volunteers was several paces behind, the man swaying dangerously in his saddle. The next was a woman, clutching blindly to her horse's mane, her face a bloody mass of tissue and broken bones. The last two men were riding double on an staggering horse, one man's leg dangling literally by a string, the flesh and bone clawed in half. Sickened, Karvan threw a horrified glance behind him, eyes widening in shock at the size of the Dark Army. It seemed to fill the entire horizon, like a giant black sea swallowing the land beneath it. For the first time truly realizing what they were up against, Karvan expertly paced himself to Scully's horse and reached out to grab her hand. Bent against the horse's neck, wind-scarred eyes centered on the ground ahead, she jolted, almost falling off the horse in sudden panic. "Easy, easy, Traveller Scully." Karvan's shouted words were whipped away by the wind. Scully gasped, reaching for her boot-knife, then relaxed slightly in relief as she recognized the dark-haired, slender elf. Meeting her eyes, Karvan nodded, then jerked his head to the right. "Around the next bend, take off to the right. You won't have long, be quick!" he reminded her. Her eyes flickered in understanding, pulling back on the reins just enough to let him race out ahead of her. Then she angled to the right, finally allowing herself to look back at the rest of her troop. A mixture of relief and anguish caught her, as she was grateful to see that half were still alive, but saddened to know which ones were gone. While maintaining a full gallop, the experienced elven riders assisted the almost exhausted human soldiers into a single file line to the far right. Then, just as the path ahead narrowed between two gigantic columns of rock, marking the edge of the Uriin plains, they began a rapid set of maneuvers, swords flashing reflected moonlight, sing-song war cries echoing in the wind, silver chain mail glittering. Not wasting a second, Scully drew her horse behind the right stone tower, begging it for one final burst of speed. It obeyed long enough to bring them out of sight, then stumbled to its knees, gasping for breath, its mouth foaming. Scully went with it, sliding off it in one fluid motion, moaning as her legs began to crumble underneath her. Fighting for control, she forced her legs to support her, reaching out to untie Aldara. "We'll get her," a pair of strong arms accompanied the whispered words, closing around Scully's waist and lifting her off the ground. Twisting to break free, she turned to come face-to- face with a very familiar face. "Jourdain," she sighed in relief, letting herself sink into the welcoming warmth of his arms. Catching her as she slumped against him, Jourdain swung the small woman up over his shoulder and carried her towards the shimmering Gate. Only when he was sure that Scully was safely though the Gate and surrendered into the hands of a brown-robed Healer, did he race back to Aldara. Without a word, he gently, but firmly, removed her from the arms of the soldiers carrying her, a sob catching in his throat as she murmured and shifted in his grasp, pressing her head into the warmth of his chest. Holding her like an infant, supporting her head in the crook of his shoulder, he strode through the Gate, eyes shedding silent tears, rough features calm and set. Inside him a voice kept shouting in joy, she's alive, she's alive, she's alive! - - - - - "Here, Traveller Scully, drink this," the young healer, her blond hair coiled over her human ears in thick braids was holding out a steaming cup of tea. Scully accepted it mutely, closing her reddened hands around the mug gratefully. Sitting on the edge of a makeshift bed, simply a pair of mattresses placed between rocks on the cavern floor, the room swirled around her, her body feeling like it was still in motion. She barely noticed when the hot tea scalded her throat. "Scully?" Corvay brushed the wings of auburn hair out of his apprentice's face. Blinking, she shook her head slightly, trying to bring his face into focus. "Corvay?" she asked in a trembling voice. "Yes, Scully, it's me. Are you hurt?" His pointy ears nearly twitching, he placed a cooling hand on her forehead. His touch was gentle on her wind-burned skin, while his mind soothing hers with gentle waves of comfort. "No, I'm okay," she replied automatically, slowly coming to awareness of her surroundings. The Healer unit looked rather like a distorted WWI army field hospital buried in a cave. Torches, lanterns and an occasional mage-light threw flickering streams of light over tables covered with bottles and jars, mattresses and blankets strewed among crystals and rock formations, pots of water boiling over small flames, scurrying personnel dressed in the healer's invariant brown robe, the white of the Priesthod, and the soldier's green leather. The war hadn't begun yet in earnest, and already there were casualties to be cared for. Flooded with a mixture of relief, grief, and an emotion that felt almost like depression, she chugged down one more swallow of the tea, gasping slightly at its heat, then began an internal check. She sighed aloud as she realized that she was going to be VERY sore, but otherwise all right. Then reaching out along the length of the bond-link she brushed the edge of Mulder's mind, feeling a welcome rush of love and relief; affection and support. She sighed softly, not noticing the tear that traced its muddy way down her dusty cheek. Kneeling at her feet, Corvay smiled as he monitored her self-check, something that had been the hardest lesson for her to learn. Now, she did it like an expert, too caught up in the past events to notice what she was doing. He opened his mouth to praise her, but Scully interrupted before he had time to speak. "Aldara!" Scully jolted to her feet, knocking Corvay backwards, inwardly reprimanding herself. How could she have forgotten her friend, if only for a few minutes? As she came awkwardly to her unsteady feet, Corvay landed in an undignified heap of brown wool on the floor, muttering in annoyance. "Where is she?" Ignoring his reaction, Scully abandoned her cup of tea, stepping directly over Corvay to run towards the Gate. Just as she came up to the brightly shimmering arch, Jourdain burst through it, Aldara cradled in his arms. "Quick," Scully shouted, her own exhaustion instantly forgotten. "Bring her over here." She tugged on Jourdain's sleeve, pulling him towards the bed she had just abandoned. Jourdain placed Aldara down gently on the mattress, only reluctantly letting go of her when Scully pushed him aside. Corvay gave Scully an irritated look, but let it subside, no time for questions of dignity now. "Well...is she going to be okay. Can you help her?" Jourdain stood anxiously at the end of the bed, balancing in frustration from heel-to-toe. "We'll do better without you making noise," Corvay grumbled, peering up at the Captain towering over him, his pointed ears twitching. "Surely you've got more important things to do than make our work more difficult." Dismissing Jourdain, Corvay turned his attention back to his patient, slipping easily into the healing trance. Jourdain wanted to yell at the little elf, but he knew the healer was right. He had a war to fight and win. His personal concerns would have to wait. Muttering under his breath, "Take care of her," he spun on his heels and headed out towards the larger adjacent cavern leaving Aldara in Corvay and Scully's hands. Taking towels soaked in heated water and herbs, Scully began to clean Aldara's wounds. As much as she wanted to dive into the trance with Corvay and assist him in the internal healing, she knew that she was in no condition to help. The trance involved deep concentration and energy, but Scully was exhausted and unfocused. Images kept flooding her mind: the blood spurting from the young man's throat while his body was being consumed by the black web; soldiers being torn apart, limb from limb; rows of jagged teeth in a Hunter's jaw so close that she could smell the rotten stench of its breath; the horrible manic pleasure in the Destroyer's twisted features; the sight of the Dark Army covering the ground like a giant plague of locusts. Closing her eyes in anguish, she forced herself to concentrate on the simple task of caring for her wounded friend. =============================================== Chapter Twelve - Part 2 Mulder stood near the edge of the Sentinel cliff, peering anxiously towards the plains. In the midnight dark, they looked more like a giant ocean than a field of grass and weeds, the wind causing faint ripples across the dim surface. The two moons gave just enough light for him to see the oncoming enemy. From the heights they resembled a giant black tidal wave, pushing a few flickering spots of light before them. Shivering despite the warmth of his blue woolen cloak, he again reminded himself that Scully was no longer out there. He had known the moment Jourdain had helped her through the Gate to relative safety, feeling the miles between them collapse. Now that she was so much closer, he could sense her thoughts and emotions like an undercurrent in his mind. He reached out to caress the edge of her mind, barely skimming the surface of her thoughts, catching a flash of Aldara's whitened face and an image of torchlight flickering across Corvay's white hair. She was worried and exhausted, but fighting, this time for her friend's life. A well-spring of love washed over him as he considered what an extraordinary woman Dana Scully was. It amazed him that a woman of such resilient courage and strength could love HIM. The certainty that she did, brought him a deep sense of joy. And the knowledge that she was alive and safe - as much as anyone in the Realm could be - gave him the strength to face the difficult ordeal ahead. Reaching deep within himself, he exercized the mage power, wrapping his mind around the flow of energy, feeling it surge at his command. Then, shutting it back down, he remained standing still and silent on the cliff edge. Waiting for the battle to begin. - - - - - The elven Riders had long since given up on anything but racing for their lives. Gone were the flashy shows of expertise, the intricate patterns and formations. Now they rode like the wind, a small group of silvered shapes running in the night, pursued by an army of demons. The Dark Army ran in a mighty stampede, the earth itself groaning underneath their weight. Collapsing into a thick, heavy stream of twisted shapes, they squeezed between the columns at the neck of the Uriin plains, pushing each other onward in a hungered frenzy. The slow among their own ranks were crushed under claw and slither, left mangled to expire in their own fluids, or more mercifully at the hands of the stealthy Realm units cleaning up behind their enemy. No survivors were spared, no quarter given. The watching Realm forces, hidden in the shadows of the cliffs, waited in grave silence until the last of the monsters cleared the bottleneck, nearly filling the massive plains with their immense number. But at last the trap was set, the die cast. The Time had come. Jourdain looked at Andalor and the representatives of the neighboring kingdoms. All three solemnly met his gaze, inclining their heads. The war leader bowed once, then strode towards the edge of the cavern. His eyes focused on the shining figures of the Riders closing in at breakneck speed, their light in sharp contrast to the heavy darkness all too close behind, he closed his eyes and, sending a fervent prayer, he gave one single, simple command: "Now!" Instantly the night turned into day, as the shimmering outline of Gates burst into being at the four corners of the plains. >From the center of the glowing arches flowed green-clad humans and silver-clad elves, gargoyles brandishing spears as long as they were tall, trolls waving spears and heavy wrought iron axes. Seeing only fresh sources of blood and tasty flesh, the Dark forces split into random chaos, the creatures bounding over each other to chase the most obvious morsel among the forces arrayed against them. From his vantage point at the cavern's edge, Jourdain could only hope that the lack of control and organization within the Dark hierarchy would give the Realm an advantage. In the center of the plains the battle was a nightmare of shadows and screams. Here an elf went down under the claws of a hunter, there a troll hacked a screetching crawler into pieces. The Destroyers on their massive brutal mounts cut wide swaths through the Realm defenders, screams of triumph mixing with the cries of the dying. The spinning web-creatures drew victim after victim, leaving no more than dried and empty bones to clatter to the ground. One mage caught a webspinner in mid-meal, blasting it with a charge of blue fire. The blue light was instantly absorbed into the dark center, then like a tornado spewing out dust, it threw out the blue flames, shrinking in on itself into a pinpoint of darkness. Its half-digested victim collapsed to the ground, skeletal legs hanging from a steaming torso, his cries lost in amid the clamor of the battle. With a fervor borne of desperation, the Realm forces held the Dark Army to the Uriin plains, even using the growing piles of corpses as one more barrier - one more enticement - to keep the monsters trapped. One troll unit took down a destroyer, while nearly simultaneously a gargoyle unit fell below an onslaught of crawlers and hunters. Each win was bought at a bloody price, each loss brought them closer to final annihilation. - - - - - Reaching behind him to touch the hilt of his sword, still encased in its sheath on his back, Jourdain wished he were out there on the battlefield instead of being confined to the cave. "Someone must command, my friend. It is sometimes very much the harder chore." Reinald came to stand at his old friend's side, his face drawn and lined, combining with his whitened hair to give the impression of great age. Jourdain studied him for a moment, then stared out again at the battle raging in the moonlight. "Don't you have a spell to prepare?" he said abruptly. Reinald didn't respond for a moment, watching the other man closely. Then he wrapped his blue mage's cloak around him, and turned to leave. "Be ready. We may not be able to hold it for long." he warned as he stepped through a small Gate to the top of the cliffs. Jourdain didn't answer. - - - - - Pausing in her rush to help to assist the latest casualty, Scully felt for Aldara's pulse. It beat strong and steady within the small woman's throat. At least she would survive, even if she had probably lost full use of her right leg. Scully was grateful for her friend's life, saddened at the many losses she knew were yet to come. Brushing back a wayward strand of orange-red hair, the tired but determined healer turned to help carry the broken figure of a troll towards one of the few remaining beds. Just as she settled the small bulky figure onto the mattress, she stumbled to her knees, gasping for breath. "Mulder...." - - - - - "Mulder," Reinald's mindvoice was quiet, but certain. "It's time." Mulder threw one last glance at the raging combat so far below, then turned to stand shoulder to shoulder with his teacher and friend. Their minds linked with the ease of long practice, power lancing between their tall, stark figures and throwing sparks of blue fire out into the night. Standing against the darkened sky, their bodies were soon enveloped in a bright blue glow, the clouds gathering above their heads in response to the concentrated energy. Lightning lit the sky in a brilliant show of light, striking down among the combatants, mixing with the blue bolts thrown from the other Realm magicians, filling the air above the plains with a brilliant display of fireworks. To anyone looking up from the battlefield below, they appeared as twin columns of blue light. In one swift unison movement, their arms swung outwards long fingers pointing down into the center of the plain. Strands of mage energy twined through the four hands, then leaped outward. One in mind, one in purpose, the two magicians melded their power into a single long, shining filament of blue fire, flames spun like silk fibers. Stretching down from the pinnacle of the cliffs, the power flew until it hit the ground in a blinding explosion. Night turned to day, as a huge blazing blue circle formed on the ground, everything within it burned to ashes in no more than a single breath. Gale force winds blew in concentric paths, fanning the flames, driving the Dark forces back as they hid from the brilliant light. Dust and ashes, bones and broken flesh flew upward into a spinning tornado, bolts of electricity racing across the edges. Then, in a second thunderclap, the whirlwind resolved into the water-like black and white ripples of the vortex. High on the cliffs, both magicians staggered under the weight of holding the power in check, the vortex spinning and reverberating in nauseating patterns, threatening to break from their control. "Go! Drive them into it. Into the vortex!" Jourdain screamed from the cavern's edge, his bellow merely a whisper in the storm. But the soldiers nearest him took up the cry, and from mouth to mouth is echoed throughout the ranks, until it reached the front lines. Soon thousands upon thousands of voices, male and female, human and elven, gargoyle and troll, were shouting as one: "Into the Vortex." Swords flashing with reflected light, the Realm forces began to drive the light-blinded creatures into the nebulous center of the massive vortex. With cries of rage and frustration, the monsters were finally forced backwards, howling in fury and defiance, even as their bodies were sucked up into the whirlwind. Then, with a shrieking yell, one, then two, then three destroyers broke free of the ring of Realm fighters crowding them closer into the center, creating new avenues of combat, whirls and eddies of slashing claws and clanging swords spreading throughout the plains. Again it was a game of give-and-take, the each small triumph balanced by a loss, the senseless force of the vortex stealing away its first Realm casualty, then a second and a third. The cries of the fourth seemed to be carried on the wind to the mages fighting with the very universe itself to control the raging beast they had unleashed. Shoulders bent, eyes squeezed shut, veins nearly popping through his skin, Reinald stumbled upon his hands and knees. "Mulder..." his mind-voice called in despair. But Mulder was too caught in the struggle to maintain control to be able to respond, his body held stiff and upright, back ramrod straight, fists clenched at his sides, fingertips digging into the flesh of his palms. His head was tilted upwards to the sky, his eyes wide open, his mind burning within his skull. "Mulder..." Reinald gave one last frantic call, then collapsed to the ground in a broken heap. "Reinald!!!" Mulder screamed to the stars, not needing to look down to know that Reinald was gone, his mind shuttered into peaceful darkness, exhausted and empty. The broken link shot back into Mulder's mind and body causing him to convulse as the blue fibers whipped around him, lancing his skin, searing his eyes. On the battlefield below, the vortex shifted and swung, drifting to first one side, then another, swallowing everyone and everything in its path. Reaching deep down into himself, Mulder strained for every last bit of strength he had, drawing on the deepest resources, cannibalizing his body's own energy sources in unconscious desperation. Knees buckling, he came down hard on the rough stone, a strangled cry escaping from between his gritted teeth. The power swirled around him, barely contained, pushing to break free of the mage's control, pressing to explode free into the heavens. - - - - - In one instant the battle collapsed into a mutual retreat, Dark creatures and Realm defenders joining in one massive flight for safety. The vortex swung free, indiscriminately sucking up every living being in its path. The attempts of the few Realm leaders to restore order failed, then were abandoned as the raging tornado swelled to two, then three times its original size. It angled to one side, then swung to another at random, the cries of those caught in its path lost in the gale-force winds. Jourdain grabbed for his sword and pushed his way out onto the battlefield, charging against the flood of his own men, mixed uncaringly with the Dark creatures. He swiped the 'head' off one crawler as it slithered past him, then shouted as he saw a shell-shocked Karvan standing frozen in the midst of the chaos, staring up at the vortex, his sword hanging limply from his hand. "Karvan!" Jourdain cried again, finally squeezing through to grab the slender elf's silvery-shoulder and shake him. Karvan's eyes were bloodshot and dilated as they turned to look up into the war leader's face, taking long moments to recognize Jourdain. Once the recognition and awareness hit, the elf looked around him in horror, bolting backwards into the bigger human as a terrified, whining pack of soul-eaters brushed by him, commingling with a troop of ash-colored gargoyles. Leaning against Jourdain, Karvan glanced back up at the violent, spinning maw of the vortex and shuddered. "Get a hold on yourself!" Jourdain growled. "We've got to rally our people." Karvan stared at him in disbelief, hysterical laughter bubbling out of his throat. "Rally? Are you crazy? That THING is out of control!" "All the more reason to drive the Dark forces into it, it's our only hope!" Jourdain insisted. Karvan just laughed. "The prophecy has rung true, and we are doomed. Doomed!" He threw his head back and laughed bitterly. Karvan hit the ground in a pile of limbs and weapons, only barely missing being stepped on by a pair of wild- eyed horses bereft of their riders. Jourdain didn't spare him, striking out with his foot to kick the elf with the toe of his boot. "Get up, you helpless coward and get yourself together. It's not over yet, and I intend to keep fighting. "Coward? How dare you call me that, you overgrown hulk of human manure!" Elven temper aroused, Karvan leapt to his feet, brandishing his sword, only to meet Jourdain's grimly amused grin. "You son of a whore!" Karvan swore again, but he lowered his head and nodded. "OK, 'war leader,'" he said sarcastically, "just what exactly do you think the two of us can do." Jourdain frowned deeply, since he really had absolutely no idea what they could do. But he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try. "There!" he spotted a stubborn group of trolls fiercely crowding a group of hunters back towards the unpredictable vortex. "Come on!" He seized Karvan's arm and half-dragged him through the stampede, using the bulk of his shoulder's like a battering ram. When they reached the small troop of axe-wielding trolls, both the human soldier and the horseless elf Rider joined in a desperate attempt to continue the fight, each praying silently that somehow the Mages would find a way to bring the vortex back under control before it swallowed them all. - - - - - Deep in the caverns below, Dana Scully fell to the rocky floor, her body laced with blue currents. The air within the cavern itself grew thick and heavy, the Gate behind her wavering in and out. "Back, get back!" Corvay shouted, pushing people away. "Evacuate now!" No one questioned the small aged elf's order, gathering the wounded up between them, healers, priestesses and soldiers alike scurried deeper into the caverns, leaving Corvay and the nearly senseless Scully behind. "Scully!" Corvay called out, trying to touch her, but a blue spark lanced into his hand, sending him sliding backwards across the floor. Scully moaned and shifted, her skin burning brilliant blue, rolling onto her back and stretching a hand towards the distant ceiling. On the cliff top, Mulder continued to hang onto conscious by a thread, mind lost in whirlpool of liquid fire, his open eyes sightless. The vortex slipped further from his control, threatening to escape him, but he held. For a few terrifyingly long instants, he kept control. He reached again for Reinald's mind - but the end of the link was dark and empty. He was alone... "Mulder..." Scully's voice echoed into the whirlwind of his mind. "Mulder...!" Her mindvoice was terrified and demanding at once. "Mulder..mulder....mulde..." It came again and again, bringing with it the very sense of her: the scented smell of her hair, the taste of her mouth, the feel of her body, the color of her eyes. "Scully, NO!" He cried back down the link. "Get out, get out...get out!" But he was incapable of shielding her, his mind flying closer and closer to the edge of the yawning vortex. It pulled at him, teased him, drew him. All he had to do was relax and it would be over. "Mulder, no!" Her voice was louder, more insistent. It rang in his ears, flooded his awareness, yanking him back from the abyss. Abruptly, their minds fused, both tumbling as one small ball of awareness around the edge of the roiling vortex. Around and around they went, rocketed on the streams of power, until with one massive grasp for control, the Mulder/Scully meld seized onto one glowing strand of energy and then another. Ever so slowly they wove one incandescent fiber of energy around the others, until they secured the edge of the vortex in a gleaming blue web. The ravenous hole strained against the delicate strands entangled around it, but was unable to break free. For what seemed like an eternity, the joint mind continued to add to the web, layer after layer of energy, until the remainder of their strength slipped out in one final gasp. Together, they tumbled into darkness, not into the heart of the vortex, but rather into a soft, deep, warm place in the center of their being, in the apex of mind-link, two so fully joined as one that their bodies were left to fall where they were, the separate shells empty and abandoned. End Chapter Twelve ========================================== Chapter Thirteen - Part One When the vortex stabilized, drawing in upon itself and standing still like a stationary whirlpool in the bloody center of the plains, a few of the Realm survivors began fighting anew. In wake of Karvan's flashing silver blade, Jourdain's merciless iron sword, and the axes of berserk troop of trolls cutting bloody swaths through the creatures in their path, a new battle line was drawn. One by one the fleeing Realm soldiers felt themselves shamed by their precipitous flight, and turning with weapons drawn, chose a still-retreating monster and attacked. Pockets of combat formed in eddies of the stampede, blockages around which the flow stopped and rearranged. Like centers of precipitation in an over-concentrated salt solution, the small battles aggregated into larger complexes, elven tempers aroused in bright flashes of silver, troll cries echoing, terrified creatures of the night falling dead to the ground, or driven with screeches of outrage and helpless fury into the maw of the vortex. At long last, the tide had turned. The Realm defenders finally saw victory in their grasp and with fierce determination they seized upon it. Most still running in instinctive terror, the creatures of the Dark were unprepared for the abrupt assaults that came from all sides. They were separated, so tightly mixed with their foes that the power of their numbers was diluted. Packs were split, individuals isolated, so that now it was four elves chopping on a single hunter, two gargoyles slicing at a single lost soul-eater, a destroyer going down amid the raging cries of a dozen human soldiers. As the war continued, pockets of the Dark Army coalesced and put up violent opposition. The ground grew thick and slippery in blood, fighters stumbled over the fallen of both armies, each Dark death drawing its bitter cost. But momentum was on the defenders' side, and inch by gory inch, they surrounded and drove the disoriented creatures into the center of the vortex, watching in triumph as they were sucked out of the universe and into the unknown beyond. Night slipped unnoticed into a gray and cloudy dawn, and then into a muddy noon, as the conflict continued. It took yet another dusk and rising moons until the last Dark creature was thrown with strangled cries, half-broken, into the yawning vortex which spun and twisted, ever trying to break free of the invisible magic bonds holding it - but the strands of azure-colored magic held. The defenders had succeeded, and their yells of triumph broke into pandemonium as the realization there was no one left to fight slowly penetrated battle-hazed minds. In those precious moments of final victory, elves hugged trolls, humans and gargoyles, boundaries of race and class and station forgotten in an intense and tearfully overwhelming flood of joy. - - - - - Doing his best to cope with the ever-increasing flood of the wounded, Corvay was unable to help Scully. She lay still and quiet on the small pallet, her body going through the motions of maintaining life. Each time he passed, the little elf would reach out to touch her skin - still laced with static sparkles of mage- energy. But warm and flushed as her flesh was, his psi-trained senses easily recognized the absence of that part of her that was most fundamentally HER. Her mind - her soul - was lost, and he could not spare the time needed to attempt to bring her back, as long as she was apparently still alive. Perhaps she was better off wherever she was for now, he thought, his shoulders bent double under the weight of so much anguish and death. The cries of another injured soldier broke into his thoughts, and with one more saddened brush at the coppery hair of his apprentice - and friend - Corvay turned away to give the newcomer what little peace he could. Hours turned into days for the overburdened Healers. Sleeping in short shifts, they worked until their eyes were glazed, their skin ashen, their minds exhausted. Still, the stream of the wounded and injured continued to flow, everything from broken limbs to those so mangled that nothing more than a quick and merciful death could be offered. It was from delivering one of those death spells, his heart heavy with loss, that Corvay looked up to see Jourdain standing over him. "Captain," Corvay spoke wearily, accepting the supporting hand on his arm, however covered in blood. They were all doused in the vital fluid now, it had spilled over them all in a bright red waterfall, seeming to color the very air itself. "Healer," Jourdain found the words coming with unexpected bitterness. "It's over. We've won." "It's hardly begun," Corvay responded. Jourdain nodded, accepting the truth of the aged healer's words. The battle itself may have been done, but the results would be with them for a long time to come. He knew all too well that it had been only luck that had allowed him to escape with no more than bruises and gashes. He had seen far too many of his friends and comrades fall to their deaths. But now that the enemy was gone, he had energy left for only one thing. "Aldara," the name came through Jordain's lips in a breathless rush. Corvay didn't waste time speaking, simply lifted his hand and pointed towards the corner. Jourdain offered a simple thank you, then turned to weave his way through the tumult of the makeshift hospital. Finding Aldara still sleeping on a small mattress in the corner, he knelt down beside her and engulfed her hand in his and watched her with tender eyes. Laying curled on her side on the blood-stained mattress, she looked small and fragile, her face half-hidden by a curtain of wavy black hair. Her damaged leg was stretched out awkwardly below her, her chest rising and falling in uneven sleep. Just as he reached out to stroke the hair back from her face, she cried out - "Nooo!" - her voice slurred and pitifully weak. She shook and twisted, hands moving to protect herself from an imagined, or perhaps remembered, horror. "Aldara," he soothed, trying to restrain her as gently as he could. "Aldara, love, it's me - Jourdain. You're safe now...safe..." Her eyes jolted open, then focused on the face hovering over her. A combination of relief and resumed pain made her sink back down into the mattress. Running her tongue over dry lips, she tried to speak. "Jourdain?" His name was a question mark. He finally managed a real smile. "It's over. We won." His smile dropped into a grimace as he remembered the cost of the victory. "It wasn't easy," he added. "But it is finished." "Thank the Gods," she whispered hoarsely, trying to pull up into a sitting position. He restrained her with gentle hands. "Take it easy," he warned. Grasping onto his arms, she snuggled closer into his warmth, using him to support herself. The change on position jarred her leg, and twisting in her lover's embrace, she looked down at it for the first time. Wrapped in thick bandages, it was immobilized by a long wooden splint. Despite her effort, eyes squeezing shut in concentration, she couldn't feel anything below the knee, and what she felt above the knee was raw and searing pain. "My leg!?" she gasped, angling her head to peer up into Jourdain's eyes. He tried to avoid giving her the answer she sought, but her gaze bore into him. "I don't know," he finally replied honestly. "Corvay and Scully did the best they could." At the pain and fear burgeoning in her expression, he added quickly. "But it doesn't matter. You are alive. That's what counts." "Alive, and a cripple!" She said, pushing him away. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, refusing to release her. "You don't know that," he insisted. "And even if it is so, it doesn't matter. Not to me." "You say that NOW. Besides, it matters to ME!" she denied, tears stinging her eyes. "So you may have to use a cane, so what?" he protested. "So what? How can I do my job, how can I support myself? I'll be helpless." The tears began to flow more seriously. She'd always been totally independent, counting on her agility and fighting expertise to keep her safe and secure. The thought of losing that freedom terrified her. "One good leg, or two, you're still the best weapons trainer I've ever seen. Look how quickly you trained Scully. This won't dull your aim with a knife, or inhibit your ability on horseback, or affect your mind. You will be fine - and your leg may heal. Don't count yourself out either way." His voice turned softer as he continued. "But I was kind of hoping you'd consider doing something different." "Whhat," she sniffled against his chest. She did know how good she was at teaching fighting skills, but the thought of being confined by infirmity made her feel weak and sick inside. "I...I was thinking about maybe..." he found himself stammering, the words escaping him. "Maybe?" she asked, a slight glimmer of what he meant slowly penetrating the confusion in her mind. "Jourdain?" she prodded, lifting her head to meet his eyes. "Well, that maybe you'd consider being a guard captain's wife?" He finished it in a rush, the words spilling into each other. A small smile warred with her tears, creeping up on her face, as she asked shyly. "And did you have any particular guard captain in mind for me to marry?" "Well, uhh, of course. I'd like you to marry me." He looked down into her tear-stained, almost smiling face, never more aware of its elven cast than he was at that moment. Could this fierce, lovely, half-elf woman really commit herself to a middle-aged human soldier like him? His breath caught in his throat as he waited for her answer. Aldara hesitated, her delight at the offer she had dreamed of for so long struggling with her fear. She refused to marry him if he was asking her out of pity or responsibility. Elven temper so easily aroused, she found herself shouting at him, "Don't you dare marry me because you feel sorry for me! Or because you think you have to, because I'm hurt. Cripple or not, I will not be anyone's burden!" She regretted the words as soon as they were spoken, but she remained stiff in his arms, holding to her challenge. "Aldara!" Jourdain shook his head, expressing his feelings had never been easy for him. He was better with a sword than with words, better at battle strategy than relationships. In fact he hadn't had a relationship since his wife died - until now. But coming so close to losing Aldara had convinced him of how precious she was. Yet, the hardest part seemed to finding the words to convince her. He looked into her emerald eyes for a moment as she waited tensely for an answer. "Aldara, I want to marry you because..because..." he stammered for a moment, then placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face up even close to his. "Because I love you. Because I don't want to lose you. When I heard you had been injured, I felt like a part of me had died. Aldara, I know I'm no prize, I'm older, and set in my ways, but I need you." He stopped and gazed into her eyes, his craggy features caught in such an expression of unguarded vulnerability that she finally relented. "I'd like to marry you very much," she replied, her smile deepening even as he claimed her mouth in a joyful kiss. She wound her arms around him and returned his embrace with delight. In the midst of all the horror of the war, sometimes the simplest things were the best. The very best, indeed. - - - - - After several long minutes of kisses and whispers, Aldara pushed Jourdain away and looked around her. "What is it?" he asked anxiously. "I wonder where Scully is?" she replied. Jourdain shrugged. "She must be around somewhere. Maybe she went out on the battlefield to help the wounded." "Yes," Aldara shivered at the thought of so much carnage. But then as she turned back to Jourdain she caught a glimpse of a still form on the neighboring pallet, red hair strewn across the mattress. "Jourdain, there!" Aldara cried, pointing over his shoulder. He pulled back onto his heels and angled his body around to look behind him. There, unnoticed before in his concern for Aldara, was the unconscious Scully, her skin waxen, her bright blue eyes staring blindly at the ceiling. Realizing that Aldara was not going to accept remaining where she was, Jourdain swiftly scooped her up in his arms and carried her the few feet over to Scully's bed. He sat her down on the edge, cautious of her damaged leg. "I'll go find Corvay. He should know what happened." Aldara nodded, reaching out to gently stroke her unresponsive friend's cheek. Across the room, Corvay was delivering a rapid-fire set of instructions to a pair of brown-robed human healers. Jourdain pushed up behind the small elf, towering over him like one of the stone columns at the entrance to the plains. Corvay felt the large, brooding presence at his back, but refused to acknowledge it until he was finished. As the other two healers scurried away, Corvay straightened his back and pivoted to look up at Jourdain, bristling with impatient authority. "What is it now, Captain?" "Traveller Scully is hurt!" Jourdain pointed to where Aldara was bent over Scully's unconscious figure. "I know, I know." Corvay's tone dropped from brusque to sorrowed. He shook his head. "I've never dealt with the effects of being life-bonded to a mage before - it's never happened before." "What happened?" Jourdain questioned intently. Corvay shook his head. "She was fine, doing a superb job, when suddenly she just collapsed. Her skin started glowing with mage-energy, nearly creating a full-scale Mage-storm in here. We had to evacuate the cave for hours. I stayed with her, but there was nothing I could do. I couldn't even touch her. Then, just as quickly as it started, it ended. She convulsed, then lay still. After a while, enough of the magic faded so that I could move her to the pallet in the corner and we were able to start using the cave again. I've checked on her every chance I get, but there's no change. I THINK she's with him, with Mulder, somehow. Perhaps he was handling too much power and it overflowed down the life-bond. I just don't know." Jourdain frowned, as much as respected and liked both Reinald and Mulder, he didn't like messing with Mage talents. The power was unpredictable at best, destructive at worst. "Isn't there anything you can do for her?" he asked, his deep voice roughened with worry and tension. "Perhaps, if I had time and strength to spare I could try to reach her mind. But that is a slow process, and requires my full attention." The deep-etched lines in Corvay's face dug a little deeper as he scowled. "For now, I have thousands in more dire need." As Jourdain opened his mouth to protest, Corvay waved his long-fingered hand in the air between them. "She is alive and resting comfortably. For all I know at present, that sleep could be exactly what she truly requires." At Jourdain's disbelieving look, the elf sighed. "I care about her, too, Captain. She is the finest apprentice I've ever had. And remarkably honorable for a human. I do not want to loose her, but there is little I can do right now. Perhaps a Mage like Reinald would have more understanding of what occurred." "Where is Reinald?" Jourdain glanced around the busy cavern as though expecting to see the blue-robed, white-crowned figure of the Royal magician suddenly appear in a puff of smoke. "For that matter," he continued, "Where in the Realm is Mulder?" "I don't know," Corvay replied. "I assumed they were busy with the battle. From what happened to Scully, they must have been handling immense amounts of mage-energy." "Yes, " Jourdain concurred, his memory of the vortex and the magestorm surrounding it all too frighteningly clear. "But that should have been over by now..." The tall, bulky human and the little elf suddenly stared at each other, the same shocked concern evident on their faces. "If Scully was hurt, then what might have happened to Mulder?" Jourdain felt his stomach sink. "Given that they are life-bonded..." Corvay frowned even deeper. "We just don't know what to expect from a mage's bond." As sudden commotion at the nearby Gate heralded a new influx of casualties, interrupting their conversation with the cries of the injured. Corvay took a deep breath and gave Jourdain a sorrowful look. "That's okay, Healer. Go on, I'll go find Mulder and Reinald." Jourdain said. "Good, good." Corvay replied absently, already brushing past the soldier towards the incoming wounded. - - - - - After forcing his way though four Gates and five crowded caverns, Jourdain finally reached the last Gate - the one that would lead him to the cliff-top Reinald and Mulder had used as a staging ground for their spell. Along the way, he had been hugged, pummeled, danced around in circles by hysterical soldiers of all races. The massive caverns echoed with the bizarre mixture of the groans of the injured and the jubilant cries of the victorious. Normally Jourdain would be the first to celebrate, chugging down tankards of the thick foamy ale that was flowing in rivers among the surviving soldiers, but not now. Jourdain heard the warning bells in his mind chime louder and louder as every person he asked denied seeing the two mages since they had left to begin their spell. It was possible that he was simply missing them in the chaos, but an intuitive part of his mind kept insisting that something was wrong. Mulder would never leave his life-bondmate in such condition without being at her side, not unless he was in no condition to go to her himself. By the time Jourdain arrived at the final Gate, he was nearly running, his large size and obvious urgency forcing open a path through the celebration. Just as he was about to step through the Gate, two small gargoyles stepped into his path. Swearing violently as he nearly fell over them, Jourdain tried to push them out of his way. "You can't go up there!" One of them insisted, baring his teeth in anger at nearly being stepped on by the big human. "Get out of my way!" Jourdain rumbled, not in the mood to waste time arguing. "Mage Reinald left orders that no one was to go up there until he said it was safe!" The second gargoyle responded. That did make Jourdain slow down, as he knew full well that Reinald would not have given such instructions without good reason. But on the other hand, Jourdain's own instincts were screaming that something was seriously wrong up on the cliff, and that his friends needed his help. "Have you heard anything from either Mage Reinald or Mage Mulder since they first went up there?" he asked. "No...No" both gray-skinned gargoyles responded in unison, their ears begin to twitch nervously. "And no one else has gone up there to check on them?" Jourdain questioned. This time the two little creatures just shook their heads. "That's not right. I think they may be hurt." He swallowed and eyed the shimmering Gate nervously. In all of his rush to get here, he hadn't bothered to think about what he could run into up there. His back straightened with resolve. Whatever did happen, Mulder and Reinald were his friends. They needed his help; he was not going to let them down. "I'm going to check on them," he said with a confidence that was only on the surface. One of the gargoyles opened its mouth to protest, but Jourdain quelled it with a glare. Glancing at each other, and shrugging over the human soldier's foolhardiness, they sighed in unison and moved out of his way. Taking a deep breath, Jourdain stepped through the Gate... ...And arrived instantly on the dark wind-swept heights, the bitter cold of the air making him gasp in shock after the heavy humid warmth of the crowded caverns. Above him the moons glowed in the black night, surrounded by a field of diamond stars, so close he felt like he could reach out and touch them. Taking one careful step after another, Jourdain felt his way towards the cliff edge, getting as close as he dared to the precipitous drop down onto the shadowed plains below. His eyes focused intently at the place where solid earth gave way to empty air, Jourdain didn't see Reinald until his foot came up against a soft barrier on the ground. "Reinald!" Jourdain cried, dropping to his knees beside his obviously unconscious friend. As Jourdain touched the pulse in the Royal magician's neck, relieved to feel it throbbing at a slow, but steady rate, he finally saw Mulder laying a few feet beyond, sprawled like a rag doll on the weed-covered rocks. Forcing himself to leave Reinald for a moment, Jourdain went over to Mulder, again feeling some relief to find that he, too, was still alive. Kneeling between them, Jourdain considered his options, then stood up and raced for the Gate. Bursting through it, he grabbed the nearest two soldiers by the arms and propelled the startled men towards the Gate, shouting instructions to the watching gargoyles. "Get word to Healer Corvay that Mages Mulder and Reinald have been found unconscious, then get stretchers up here immediately. Move it!!!!" In mere moments, though it seemed like a lifetime to Jourdain, the two mages were being carried through the Gate and down towards the Healing caverns, only the slightest rise and fall of their chests indicating that they were still alive. - - - - - ========================================== Chapter Thirteen - Part Two Sitting her quiet vigil by Scully's side, Aldara simply shook her head at Jourdain as he hurried over to her. There was no change. Jourdain frowned, then inclined his head towards the stretchers being carried over by two dusty green-clad soldiers and two brown-robed elven healers. "Oh no," Aldara breathed in sharply as she instantly understood. Attempting, and failing to stand up, she swore briefly as she remembered her leg. "They're alive," Jourdain told her as he drew her up against him, letting her use him as a crutch, knowing full well that she knew who the bodies were. "Like Scully, their minds seem to be gone, but they are breathing and have steady heartbeats." "Thank the Goddess for that," Aldara replied, willing leaning into his strength. "But what happened?" They both watched as Mulder was lowered onto the pallet that had been Aldara's, Reinald onto the next one over. "I don't know," Jourdain replied. "It could just be that the spell to create the vortex exhausted them, and once they've recovered their strength they will wake up." His voice was full of doubt. "But that doesn't explain what happened to Scully?" Aldara protested. "She's life-bonded to Mulder." Jourdain attempted to explain. "Corvay thinks that maybe the mage-energies Mulder was trying to control were too strong, and they flowed down the bond-link to Scully. He says she lit up with mage power like the castle grounds at summer festival just before she collapsed. No one's ever been life-bonded to a mage before, especially not such a powerful one, so we don't know the effect it could have." "Do you think they will be all right?" Aldara asked, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. Jourdain shook his head sadly, tightening his arms around her. "I hope so...I don't know," he answered honestly. - - - - - //Dana Scully laughed into the wind, running barefoot in the sand, the brilliant blue of the endless ocean beckoning her onward. Chasing her, Fox Mulder grinned with delight as he caught her around the waist, tipping them both into the white- foamed surf. Twisting in his arms as they fell, Dana wrapped her arms around the satin-sheathed steel of his shoulders, pulling him onto her even as she hit the water with a splash. Mulder released her waist just long enough to support himself a tantalizing inch above her body, his hands pressing into the swirling sand, grinning down into her bright face as she laughed warmly up at him. "Come here," she demanded, using both her arms and legs to draw him closer. Echoing her laughter, he complied, their sounds of their joy turning from open laughter to moans of pleasure as they made love on water's edge, the tide washing slowly up and down over their entwined bodies.\\ - - - - - Hours had passed with no change. Jourdain and Aldara sat a lonely vigil by the three bedsides, waiting and watching for any sign of returning awareness. Mages Gera and Flordan had visited briefly, both barely able to stand in their own exhaustion. Aldara had looked to them for answers, but both blue robed magicians had simply shook their heads. Corvay buzzed by as often as he could, the demands on him and the other healers seemingly endless. All he could suggest for now was to let them sleep. "You should try to sleep," Jourdain suggested as he watched Aldara's eyes droop, then shoot open as she tried to keep herself awake. "No!" she protested. Then turning to look into his bloodshot eyes, she suggested that he get some rest. "I'll watch them for a while." "No, "I'll sit watch. You need to get some sleep. You are hurt too," he insisted. Just as she was about to start arguing with him, a small sparkle of her former vivacity awakening in her emerald eyes, the sound of a groan from one of the beds caught her attention. "Jourdain!" She cried, grabbing his arm and pointing towards Reinald who was beginning to shake and twist on his bed. Not wasting a moment, Jourdain picked Aldara up in his arms and moved around Mulder's bed to set her on the edge of Reinald's pallet. "Reinald?" the dark-haired half-elf called out, surprising herself with the depth of affection she felt for the white-haired mage. Before she had met Scully and Mulder, she had both hated and feared magicians, even the friendly and honorable Reinald. But now that had changed. She had begun to see them as individuals, the use of their power an extension of their natures. Reinald and Mulder were trustworthy because they were good people. Her father and siblings had been vain and selfish - so the use of their power had simply reflected who they were. That didn't diminish the horror that an evil person with the talent could cause, but she could begin to like and respect the ones who were honest and fair, who tried to use their gifts for good purpose. Reinald shifted in his sleep, crying aloud. "Mulder..." "Shhh," Aldara replied, reaching out to stroke his brow. "Reinald, can you hear me?" Behind her Jourdain stood silent and tense, worry and hope warring on his grizzled features. Reinald muttered unintelligibly for a moment, then silenced as his eyelids flickered open. Blinking rapidly as he tried to focus blurry eyes, he whispered, "Aldara?" "Yes, yes!" She urged, leaning back to share a grin of relief with Jourdain. "And Jourdain. How do you feel?" "Like I was hit by a lightning bolt," Reinald replied, rubbing his face with trembling hands. "Do you remember what happened?" Jourdain questioned gently. "I'm not sure..." Reinald stared up at the ceiling for a moment. "I remember beginning the vortex spell." He shivered. "It was so strong. It kept trying to break free of our control. I started to get tired, I kept slipping under. I called out for Mulder, but he couldn't respond. Then I...I lost awareness. Everything went black." He shook his head, "I failed," he said, voice deep with grief. "I failed." "NO!" Jourdain corrected loudly. "You didn't fail. We won! The vortex stabilized and we drove the Dark forces into it. The battle is over and the Realm is safe." Reinald looked up at him, disbelief struggling with hope. "Won? Stabilized? But how?" "We assumed you and Mulder did it - at least the part of controlling the vortex," Jourdain answered. "It broke free for a while, then suddenly drew back, as though someone or something was containing it. It was like it was caught in a trap, unable to break free. Once it stopped moving, we were able to take control of the war, the Dark army was split and demoralized. It took almost a whole day and night, but it's over now." "Thank the Gods," Reinald closed his eyes, feeling relief wash over him in waves. At long last it was over, and they were safe. But after a moment of enjoying the victory, the questions returned with a vengeance. "I still don't understand how the vortex was restrained. When I collapsed we were losing it, I can't believe Mulder held on his own." "He wasn't on his own," Aldara broke in, sudden comprehension lighting her thin, oval face. "Scully helped him!" "What?" Reinald sat up abruptly, his voice breaking into a cry as pain thudded through his temples. "Easy, easy," Aldara insisted, pressing him back down onto the mattress. Reinald hardly struggled, the fire lancing through his head convincing him to lay as still as possible. "Corvay says that Scully was working down here when she suddenly fell down and started to glow with mage-energy," Jourdain explained. "Apparently she caused quite a Mage-storm down here. After a while, though, it ended and she just simply collapsed. She hasn't woken since. You and Mulder were both the same way when I found you. So far you're the only who has woken up." "I knew she had some slight mage ability, but it was hardly enough for simple spells, much less something of this nature. I know she and Mulder are life-bonded, but even so..." Reinald shook his head. "I just don't know." "Will Mulder and Scully be all right?" Aldara asked worriedly, glancing behind her at their motionless, recumbent figures. "I...I THINK so," Reinald replied. "They should wake up once they've recovered their strength. At least that's the way it usually is for mages who have overtaxed their powers." Both Aldara and Jourdain caught the uncertainty in his tone. "But..." Aldara prodded. "It depends on how much they over-used their life- energies. And we're dealing with the unknown of their life-bond. It could help them," Reinald sighed, glancing from Aldara's pale features to Jourdain's weary face. "It could also hurt them - if one dies the other could easily follow." - - - - - //Hands laced behind his head, Fox Mulder watched the cottony whisps of clouds floating in the deep blue of the sky. A gentle breeze played with the tendrils of his dark hair, splaying them across his temples as he rested in the warmth of the sun. Curled against his side, her head pillowed in the hollow of his shoulder, Dana Scully closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The air was fragrant and pure, a mixture of grass and earth, strawberries and pine, tinged by the unique masculine sent of the man resting beneath her. Her hand gently stroked the velvet of his skin, exposed by the half-unbuttoned white shirt, the tips of her fingers red and sticky with the juice of strawberries. A small pile of the fresh-picked berries lay beside them, cradled in a fold of the blanket on which they lay. Mulder closed his hand on hers, pressing it against the center of his chest, then lifting it up to his mouth. Slowly he licked at one sweet, flavored fingertip after another until Dana moved to pull herself up along his length, framing both their faces together in the shelter of her auburn hair which cascaded down around them a bright red waterfall, glowing in the midday sun. Hazel eyes danced under lazy eyelids as a slow smile teased the edges of his mouth. Eyes bluer than the sky above glittered in response, her breath hot against his cheek. Seductively, she began to actively trace his lips, slowly dipping deeper into his mouth, while his tongue reached out to wrap around her fingertips, catching at them with the edges of his teeth. Then his hand released hers and swept around to caress the bare skin of her back above the silk edge of her flowery dress. A soft sigh of utter contentment escaped her lips as she bent down inch by inch to finally cover his mouth with hers.\\ - - - - - Sipping at the hot tea, Reinald studied the sleeping Travellers with still-weary eyes. The flood of the wounded had slowed to a trickle, many of the healers getting their first chance in several days to sleep. Now it was the priests who were busy, gathering up the dead and committing them to the care of the gods. Too, too many dead, he thought sadly. And far too many still hovering on the edge. "Any change?" Jourdain whispered. "No," Reinald turned to look up at his friend. "If it was simple exhaustion, they should have woken up by now." He glanced back at the man and woman laying on the bed, the slow rise and fall of their chests the only remaining sign of life. Even when they had been moved from the Healing cave back to their original quarters, neither had showed any sign of awakening. "I'm afraid they are lost somewhere." Reinald shook his head. "All that power echoing down a life-bond. I have no way to know the consequences." Jourdain frowned, a newly etched gash showing in sharp relief against his cheekbone. He was tired of hearing how little anyone knew about the combination of a life- bond and mage talent. What he wanted was an answer, or at least some suggestion of a course of action. "Can't one of the Healers reach them, or another mage? If they are caught in some backlash of the spell, can't you undo it?" Jourdain questioned. "It's not that simple." Reinald took another deep gulp of the stimulating tea, grateful for the warm rush it caused in his belly. "Without knowledge of the cause - or the details of the magic binding them - it would be like looking for one grain of wheat in a field." His face brightened slightly. "However, a Healer may be able to get to them in a way a magician couldn't. Corvay is planning to try as soon as he has a chance to recover his strength." Jourdain nodded, relieved, but not surprised. The irascible elven Healer obviously had a soft spot for Scully, he had hovered over her at every opportunity. "Well, if anyone can reach them, it will be Corvay." Agreement flickered in Reinald's tired eyes, then he gazed down at the 'sleeping' couple. After a moment, during which Jourdain stood quietly at the end of the bed, the thin, white-haired mage spoke in nearly a whisper. "I just wonder if they are not happier wherever they are." - - - - - //Mulder handed Scully the wine glass, their fingers brushing as she took it from him, looking over the rim at him with a hint of a smile. He picked up his own glass and held it up between them, letting the firelight flicker through the amber liquid. Meeting each other's eyes, they clinked the glasses and drank the clear, dry wine in appreciative silence, no spoken words necessary to communicate the toast. The same thought - the same feeling - reverberated between their minds. "To you, my love," his mindvoice had caressed her soul. "To us, my darling forever," hers had whispered back, warming his heart. Resting her head into the hollow of his shoulder, the place that seemed made to hold it, she set the wine glass aside. He took one more swallow, feeling his throat cool as the dry alcoholic fluid evaporated as it went down. Then placing his glass on the floor beside him, he tightened his arm around her shoulders, fingering the silken gloriously bright strands of her hair. Sinking down onto the cushions in front of a roaring fire, they held each other in utter joy and serenity. "Mulder...." the faintest whisper of a voice brushed against the edge of his mind. He stirred slightly, ears perking to listen even as he tried to dismiss it. But it came again, a little louder, disturbing the edges of his awareness. It brought a rush of feelings, disquiet and fear, rage and sorrow. There was something he had forgotten, something.... Something he didn't WANT to remember. "No," he hadn't realized he said it aloud until Dana stirred in his arms, her face full of sleepy contentment. "Fox..." she murmured, gazing up at him, her face alight with such beauty that he lost all other thoughts except his love for her. Giving her a glowing smile, he bent to kiss her, drinking in the sweet taste of her mouth. Dana felt her breath catch in her throat as his mouth claimed hers, reaching out to pull him even closer. Just as his arms tightened around her, a voice began to whisper in her ear, "Dana...Dana..." She tried to ignore it, to lose herself in the ecstasy of her lover's embrace, but the voice refused to silence. Instead it grew louder, ringing in her ears until she was forced to pulled away from Mulder, grabbing at her ears. "Dana, what is it?" He reached out to hold her, the joy on his face slowly darkening into concern. Just as his hands closed around her shoulders, he too heard the voice again, insistently shouting their names over and over. "NO!" they cried in unison, as the warm safety of the room around them began to fade. Fear curling through them, they clung to each other as they found themselves adrift in a deep, black night, strands of blue fire wrapping its way around them as they tumbled through the void. A kaleidoscope of images, sounds, voices flashed by them, teasing them with half-forgotten memories that were gone as soon as they reached out to hold them. A saddened woman with deep black eyes and curly black hair stretched out her hand to them, changing in an instant to a beautiful girl-child with hazel eyes and waist-length black hair. Then it was a younger woman with bright auburn hair and a crystal glittering at her throat, followed by a man dressed in a long blue cloak with a shock of white hair. "Mulder...Scully...Fox...Dana..." Their names echoed in their ears in a thousand different voices, some pleading and sorrowed, some loving and welcoming, some angry and sneering. Yellow eyes blazed as an unnaturally-elongated arm stretched out towards them. Recoiling, they turned to see a hundred mirrored reflections of a woman with hazel eyes and long wavy brown hair, dressed in a brown suit. Turning yet again, they faced an older man, with contemptuous eyes, half-obscured by smoke. One visage after another spun past, blending and mixing into a nightmarish assembly of friends lost and enemies gained, sorrows forgotten, and horrors remembered. Clinging to each other, their screams echoed and were lost in the darkness that threatened to close in around them. But just as they found themselves sinking even deeper into the void below, a single commanding voice chimed in their ears. "Come!" it demanded. "Return," it insisted. "Follow me..." it urged. One arm still wrapped in a death grip around Scully, Mulder reached out to the silvery, blue-tinged strand that quivered with the sound of the voice. Somehow able to close his fist around the pulsing fiber, he held to it tightly, letting it pull them both upwards. Once the motion began, they flew along the vibrating strand with increasing speed, Scully releasing one of her hands from Mulder's shoulder to grasp onto it, stabilizing them both. Confused, exhausted, frightened, they followed the ever-guiding voice meekly, letting it take them where it willed. Upwards they spiraled, darkness giving way to a nearly blinding light. Just at the edge of the glowing incandescent source, they paused to stare deeply into each other's eyes. Both felt the desire to slide back into the darkness they had left, into the serenity of world they had created for themselves in the apex of their love, warring with the call to return to the worlds they had left behind. It would be so easy to stay lost together, sheltered in their private world. To forget the pain and sorrow of their past lives. However, before they could allow themselves to slip backwards, two of the voices sounded again: "Fox, don't leave me..." a child's voice sobbed. "Dana, come home..." a woman's voice cried. Hesitating, they hovered for a moment, then accepted the decision echoed in each other's eyes. In silent communion, they slid apart until they were linked only by clasped hands and dove together into the center of the light.\\ - - - - - Gasping for breath, Corvay let go of Mulder and Scully's hands and collapsed backwards into Reinald's waiting arms. Not needing to be asked, Jourdain rushed over to help the mage carry the Healer into a waiting chair. Letting the big soldier support the small, barely conscious elf, Reinald reached for a cup of the restorative potion and pressed it up against Corvay's whitened lips. "Drink this," he urged, ignoring the elf's attempts to push him away. Finally Corvay gave in, taking first a small sip of the warm, sweet liquid and then a larger gulp. "Are you all right?" Reinald asked. "I...yes, I'll be fine." Corvay spoke in a rough whisper as even his pointed ears seemed to droop. "What happened," Jourdain questioned urgently. "Did you..." "Just need to rest..." Corvay interrupted, closing his eyes and slumping down into the chair, slipping instantly into sleep. Jourdain and Reinald exchanged worried glances, Corvay had spent nearly two hours in the trance, leaning over the unmoving, unresponsive Travellers. If he hadn't succeeded in reaching them, then... "Mmmmaaagh," came a muffled groan from the direction of the bed. Reinald nearly dropped the cup as he and Jourdain rushed over to the bed. Mulder was rubbing his eyes with the back of one arm, his body shivering as the muscles began to awaken. Beside him, Scully twisted and yawned, her eyelids blinking rapidly. "Mulder! Scully!" Reinald cried, reaching out to shake Mulder's shoulder in an explosion of joyous relief. "Wwwhat?" Mulder groaned aloud, his eyes slowly opening to focus on the face hovering over him. "Reinald?" he questioned. "Yes, yes!" the white-haired mage shouted gleefully. Both Mulder and Scully cringed in response, Scully pressing her hands against her throbbing head. "Ooooh," was the best she could get out. Mulder eyed her, then the delighted faces of Reinald and Jourdain peering down at them, and sank back down into the bed, giving them such a woebegone, sick-puppydog look that, nearly giddy with relief, Jourdain and Reinald both broke out laughing. End Chapter Thirteen ==================================================== From: jennyann@ix.netcom.com (Jennifer Lyon) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "Magician" ch14/Pr1 (28/31) Date: 1 Jun 1995 02:04:15 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 Fourteen - Part One It had taken nearly a fortnight to clean up the battlefield and set the slow process of recovery in motion. After the vortex was closed by the still-exhausted mages Reinald and Mulder, the Uriin plains became one massive funeral pyre. Each race, each religion, each great house held its own sorrowful ceremony, releasing the souls of their dead from their mortal remains in huge blazing bonfires. For days the fires burned, throwing sparks and ashes up into the sky, visible for nearly a full-day's ride away. The smell of burning flesh and incense filled the air, painful and cleansing at once, washing away the stench of the Dark. Villages were reclaimed, fragmented lives resumes, late harvests begun. The surviving leaders of the various houses and races made their solemn way back to Fairwood Keep, their entourages barely a ghost of the flashy colorful displays that had first accompanied them there for Reinald's trial so many long weeks before. And yet, underneath the somber colors, the mood was brighter, the steps lighter than they had been before. A shadow had been lifted from the Realm, and despite their many sorrows, the people felt the first stirrings of hope for the future. As if in benediction, the sun broke through the clouds and shone in full glory upon the heads of the returning soldiers as they marched through the Fairwood castle gates. Mulder and Scully were grateful to settle back into their comfortable room with the big fireplace and large soft bed after so many nights spent sleeping in tents or caves. The most pleasant sight of all was the big tub, filled and waiting for them when they arrived dusty and tired from the long march. Lita straightened from pouring in another freshly heated bucket of water into the tub and turned to them with a glowing smile. "Welcome home Mage Mulder, Lady Scully." "Thank you, Lita," Mulder replied, draping his robe over the back of one of the chairs in front of the blazing fire and dropping into it with a sigh of pleasure. Scully simply walked over and gave the little elf a big hug, delighted to see her. Lita returned the embrace, then pulled away, saying brusquely, "Your bath is ready. I'll return later with dinner and empty it then." However, her eyes were bright as she bustled from the room. Scully went over behind Mulder and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He leaned back into her embrace, reaching out to draw her closer. She played with the dark locks of his hair for a moment, then dropped a kiss on the top of his head and withdrew towards the steaming tub. "Don't know about you, but I'm not losing a second before taking a bath." She sighed, yanking her tunic over her head. "I can hardly remember the last time I felt clean." "Ummm, I'll join you in a minute," Mulder replied, staring absently into the fire as it leapt and crackled in the huge brick hearth. Sensitive to the darkening of his mood, Scully stopped after removing her leggings and stared at the back of his head. "Mulder?" she asked, coming around in front of him, dressed only in the long white shirt with tails that nearly touched her knees. "What's wrong." "Nothing, Scully." He stretched, yawning loudly. "I'm just tired." She continued to gaze down at him, hands unconsciously closing on her hips in a stance that he immediately recognized. "Scully," he insisted, eyes deepening to a dusky brown. "I'm fine, it's just been a long day." "Uh huh," she replied, her face drawn and serious. "Mulder..." she sat down across his knees so that she could look straight into his eyes. His arms closed around her almost of their own accord, instinctively drawing her into his embrace. "Mulder, I don't want to go prying into your mind. If you don't feel like talking about whatever is bothering you, then I can wait until you're ready, but..." "No, no, Scully," he interrupted. "It's okay. I just felt a little, well, funny when Lita said 'welcome home.' We've been here for so long now, that this does feel like our 'home' sometimes, and yet I'm also well aware that we don't really belong here. I couldn't help wondering what was happening back on our earth." Scully nodded, reaching out to tenderly brush a wayward black lock of hair out of his eyes. "I know," she said sadly, "Sometimes I worry about my mother. After everything she's been through, to have me just disappear again like this - and you as well. I wish there was a way to let her know that we are safe and well." "Me, too." Mulder responded. "You're lucky to have a family like yours. They're good people," he managed a teasing grin, "even if your sister is a bit weird." Scully laughed. "You're hardly one to talk about being 'weird,' 'Spooky.'" "Touché, Scully," Mulder said. Then his face fell. "My parents won't even notice I'm gone." "I'm sure..." Scully started automatically, then paused. She'd never met his parents, but she'd picked up enough during their years of partnership, and through the growing mind-link, to have a pretty good picture of his family, especially after sharing his nightmares. Mulder caught the edges of the hurtful images going through Scully's mind, and he grimaced in response. "The only person in my family who really cared about me has been gone much longer than I have." His voice was deep with sorrow. "Samantha." Scully whispered softly, feeling the knife edge of pain strike deeply into her own heart as it plunged through his. "Samantha," he echoed, and suddenly it was though the shadowy figure of a slender eight year-old girl with a waterfall of black hair and dark hazel eyes was standing beside them. Mulder and Scully were both silent for a moment, then Mulder spoke the thought in both their minds. "If I stay here, I'll never have a chance to find her." "I know, sweetheart," Scully said, trying to project as much love and reassurance to him as she could. "And as much as I've come to love the people here, I want to go home too. But the vortex is dangerous. It nearly killed you and Reinald..." "And you," Mulder interjected, unable to avoid a pang of guilt. Scully gave him a fierce look, not even bothering to tell him aloud to stop the guilt. He sensed her thought and nodded, his eyes apologizing for him. Scully smiled and leaned forward to brush his lips with hers, brushing his mind with love and reassurance. Then she sat back and picked up their discussion where it had left off. "At least here we have friends and what could be a good future. With the Dark Army gone, the Realm will be a peaceful and pleasant place to live. If we make a mistake with the vortex, we could end up anywhere, including the place those walking nightmares came from." Mulder sighed. "I know. We can't even be sure of where it was we sent the monsters. God, I hope it wasn't to our world." "I doubt it," Scully said. "I don't think they'd fit all too well into Neumann's lab." Mulder grinned. "No, probably not. Still, we don't know where they ended up, and I certainly wouldn't want to be there with them." He paused for a moment, his brow crinkling in concentration. "Nonetheless, Reinald did manage to bring Tarnor and us through properly, and he and I were almost able to control a much larger vortex than the one we fell through. Manipulating a smaller one ought to be feasible, especially if we work together." "Mulder..." Scully felt a whirlpool of emotion flood her. If only they COULD make it home. But what if they instead ended up in a far worse place - or dead? And it would be very hard to say goodbye to their friends in the Realm. She had never had very many close female friends, and she knew that she would miss Aldara terribly, as well as Jourdain, Tarnor, Reinald, and Andalor... Her heart warmed at how many wonderful people they had befriended here. Still, it would be so wonderful to see her family again. "We don't have to make a decision tonight," Mulder suggested as with his emotions in a turmoil, he felt her uncertainty augmenting his own. "We're both exhausted, hungry, and very dirty. How about we take that bath, eat dinner, and sleep on it." Scully smiled. Maybe some of her rationality was finally rubbing off on her impulsive imaginative lover. It was definitely about time. Standing up she took his hand and led him over to the still-waiting tub of steaming water. - - - - - Two full days were spent in preparation for the victory celebration. The castle was filled to bursting with people, most running here and there on one errand after another. The courtyards were covered with brightly colored tents, the stables crammed with horses and other livestock. The gargoyles took possession of the dungeons, the elves spread out into the nearby woods. The Great Hall was stripped and scrubbed from floor to ceiling, the massive tapestries washed by long rows of women, voices raised in melodic song as they worked. The castle kitchens were like a furnace, all of the ovens working at once. The surviving villages all contributed food and grain, wine and meat, and a surfeit of expert cooks. When Aldara's security forces weren't breaking up brawls and drunken pranks, caused by huge quantities of rich, intoxicating ale that was flowing out of barrels and down thirsting throats, they were busy separating would-be chefs flailing at each other with iron pots, arguing over whose recipe for soup or stew was the best. Nonetheless, most of the fighting was done in a good-hearted manner, and even the Dordinal rowdies were in pleasant moods. The shadow was gone, and the sunshine streamed down on Fairwood Keep in bright and glorious streams of warmth. Despite the almost-exasperating amount of cavorting and merry-making, the castle staff still managed to get the job done in record time. The cleansed tapestries were re-hung on gleaming stone walls, rows of high-backed, satin-cushioned chairs were set up along each of the long walls. The throne-chair was carried down out of the storeroom by four large trolls, set up on a small platform at one end of the hall, and endlessly fussed over by half-a-dozen castle staff under the direction of the castle steward - who seemed about ready to tear his hair out by the end of the second day. Nonetheless, the castle was fully prepared by nightfall prior to the day of celebration. Every square inch of the castle and its grounds had been scrubbed clean, with only one exception. "Get out!" Reinald stormed at the pair of elves scrubbing at the chalk marks on the floor of his workroom. Both squealed in fright, one dropping her brush as she attempted to scramble to her feet. But the floor was wet and she slid down to land on her little round bottom on the floor, brightly-shod feet knocking over a bucket of soapy water, red-ribboned yellow braids flying. "Now look at what you've done! I TOLD that idiot steward Rurvic to leave my room alone!" the infuriated magician raged. The carefully designed spell diagram on his floor was completely ruined. It had taken him hours to plan it out, and now he'd have to start from scratch. Even the most carefully-shielded mages can lose their tempers, and the air in the room began to grow heavy with moisture as Reinald moved to stand glaring fiercely down at the utterly terrified - and soaked - young servants. The one who had fallen stared up at the blue-robed man glowering over her like a terrified rabbit, the other cowered and sobbed beside her. Just as Reinald reached out to yank the yellow-haired one to her feet, an amused voice sounded from the doorway, "What's this? Terrorizing the staff?" Reinald turned to direct his glare at Mulder who was indolently leaning against the heavy oak doors, his arms crossed across his chest, ever so slowly shaking his head. "These fools ruined my spell - it was brand-new and I didn't even have the chance to write it down on parchment yet. Hours of work lost." Reinald was still blazing angry, though his friend's good humor was slowly breaking through to him. "Well, I doubt it's their fault," Mulder said gesturing to the frightened elves. "You know how busy everyone is. Someone just forgot to tell them to skip your room. Look, I got a good look at the diagram before she knocked the bucket over. I can do the basics, and you can fix the little bit the they had erased." Mulder grimaced. "I could use the escape from out there. Someone just tried to clean ME, clothes and all." The comical look of annoyed disbelief on the other Mage's face was too much for the usually even-tempered Reinald and he started to chuckle. Mulder grinned, then didn't waste a second hustling the two elven servants from the room. As he was closing the door behind them he told them to pass the word to leave the Royal Magician's quarters alone. Both quite certain they had only barely escaped some horrible fate, they bobbed their heads and scurried away, brushes and pails in hand. "You gave those two quite a scare," Mulder noted. "I know," Reinald frowned. "But sometimes it's the only way to get some privacy around here, especially when Rurvic is on one of his cleaning binges. The last time I let him get his people in here, they decided to polish and wax the Oracle Cloud. It took a week to get the stuff off of it!" "I can imagine!" Mulder said. "They corralled me this morning to levitate a couple of gargoyles so they could scrub the kitchen ceiling. Apparently a pair of cooks got into a fight over which spice to use in a stew, and one threw the pot of boiling stew all over the room, including the ceiling!" Reinald shook his head and lowered himself into his chair, reaching automatically for the teapot. "I understand the need for a proper victory ceremony, but I wish I could just disappear for a few days before and after it." Pouring the tea into two mugs, he handed one out to Mulder who accepted it gratefully, perching himself on the edge of a small table. "Yeah. I don't know whether to offer to help, or just try to disappear. Scully is busy with Corvay trying to heal the recovering soldiers. I feel almost useless." "I'm sure she relies on you heavily," Reinald said reassuringly, focusing sharp gray eyes on his friend. "But something else is bothering you, isn't it?" Mulder nodded solemnly, then hesitated. "Reinald, I...uh, Scully and I... I know this is a bad time, but we've been thinking..." "You want to go home," Reinald finished for him, his expression saddened, but not surprised. "Yes," Mulder took a deep swallow of the tea, then met the other man's eyes directly. "We both have families. Well, Scully has a family, and I have a sister who...needs me. We've talked about it - about nothing else - for a couple days and while we both know how risky the vortex is, we both feel we have to at least try." "There's no guarantee we can get you to the right place," Reinald warned. "You could end up in a dangerous place. And that's even assuming you live through it again." "I know, I know," Mulder replied, setting down his tea and leaping up to prowl the room. "But this, the Realm, it isn't our home. We don't belong here." "You could belong here," Reinald offered. "You have both done us a great favor at risk to your own lives. I promise you we will repay you well, if you choose to stay. I've been thinking of retiring as Royal Mage, Mulder. I'm getting old, and tired of the politics. You could take the position. Andalor trusts and admires you. You would have a home here for as long as you wanted. Or if you wanted to settle in a quieter place, there are hundreds of villages that would compete for you to be their town mage. And Scully will always be needed, and welcomed, as a healer anywhere in the Realm." Mulder paused in his pacing and turned with a warm smile. "I'm glad we were able to help and we very much appreciate all the kindness you have shown us. Believe me, we've thought seriously about staying. We've made good friends here, some we would rather not leave behind." His face settle into a serious expression. "But we have to try to go home. We both have unfinished business there, as well as people who are depending on us." "I understand," Reinald responded. "and I'll do my best to help. But I would ask that you keep this between us until after tomorrow's ceremony. There will be enough intrigue going on as is. Andalor is young, and there are still factions of the nobles that would like to see him - and me - replaced. It is vital that everything goes smoothly. Afterwards, we can tell the Prince privately and then begin to make plans." Mulder nodded agreement. "WE certainly don't want to spoil the party. Afterwards is soon enough to tell people, and we'd rather not make a big production of this anyway. If we can slip away quietly after saying private goodbyes to our friends, that would be best." "Good." Reinald said, though he didn't feel happy about any of it. He was suddenly realizing just how much he'd come to like and rely upon this unusual young talent and his extraordinary life-bondmate. He knew he'd miss them terribly, however, he also understood their desire to return to their interrupted lives. "Come, come," he said briskly, masking his emotions. "We'd better get started fixing this mess." Both men turned to stare down at the smeared, watery- mess on the floor and sighed. - - - - - The day of the Victory celebration dawned bright and warm, the sun rising in a clear blue sky. In the absence of the Dark shadow, the Realm had returned to its normal summer weather, hot days and cool nights, lush greenery and a slightly tropical humidity in the air. Curled up against Mulder, her head pillowed on his chest, Scully stirred and yawned, her breath brushing against his skin. He shifted in his sleep, his arms still tight around her. Trying to disentangle herself without disrupting him, she managed to reach a sitting position, gazing drowsily out between the bed curtains just as Lita came into the room. The little elf was dressed in bright red and green dress, her dark hair bound up in tiny, but elaborately swirling braids. Behind her came two more elven servants, both mirror images of Lita, the same decorative clothes and fancy hairstyles, their pointed ears framed in heavy black braids. All three were carrying clothes, Lita's arms filled with a bundle of shimmering blue and white silk, a small corner of black leather peeking out over her elbow. Between them, the other two were carrying a heavy load of emerald green velvet with gold fibers woven through the edges. Sitting up in bed, Scully gave them a friendly smile, clutching the heavy brocade coverlet up against her breasts, her auburn hair cascading down over her milky-white shoulders. "Are those for us?" she asked, unable to hide her excitement at the sight of the dress the two elven maidens were laying over the back of one of the chairs. Practical as she might be, Dana Scully still had weakness for beautiful clothes and she had been concerned about what she was supposed to be wearing to the ceremony. All attempts to question Lita on the subject over the last couple of days had been met with a mysterious smile and instructions to leave it to the elf. To Scully's eye, it appeared that Lita had outdone herself. Lita smiled broadly as Scully bounded from the bed, wrapping her robe around her shoulders. At the sound of giggles from the other two elves, Lita admonished them fiercely, setting them to work preparing the water for the tub. Once they were busy stoking the fire and setting iron buckets of water into the hearth, still exchanging grins and giggles, Lita relaxed and drew Scully over to show her the dress. "I made it myself," Lita said proudly. "The velvet is from my home village, and the embroidery is pure silk." The tiny woman's face beamed with delight as Scully fingered the soft fabric, exclaiming at its beauty. "It's stunning!" Scully brushed a tear out of the edge of her eyes. "Thank you so much. I just hope I can do it justice." "I have no doubt that you will," Mulder surprised her, placing his hands on her shoulder and leaning down to kiss the burnished top of her head. "No one will be able to hold a candle to your beauty," he complimented romantically, stirring a fresh round of giggles from the elves. Lita silenced them with a frown, then whisked them out of the room. "Be quiet, and go get Mage Mulder and Lady Scully their breakfast." Bobbing and grinning, they scurried from the room. Lita sighed dramatically. "My nieces are still very young, I'm afraid." Wrapped in each other's arms, Mulder and Scully both smiled in amusement. - - - - - After enjoying a quick bath together, they downed a breakfast of fruit and fresh bread, supplemented by the stimulating tea. Then gathering up the clothes Lita had brought for him, Mulder shut himself into the small bathroom, leaving Lita and Scully to go on with a detailed discussion of hair styles. His one comment, that he didn't understand why she didn't just leave her hair down, netted him such a pair of outraged glares that he decided that absenting himself from the proceedings was the safest course of action. He easily donned the black pants, white shirt, and long embroidered blue tunic. Cinching the heavy silver belt around his waist, he had to admit some satisfaction with the result. The clothes fit as they had been made for him, which they almost certainly had, and the deep blue suited his dark coloring and tanned skin well. He spun in front of the mirror once, then grinned unabashedly at his reflection. Not bad, but he'd still be better off leaving the fussing to the women. Lita was vigorously combing Scully's hair, the two chatting away easily, as he stepped out of the bathroom. Lita smiled appreciatively at him, then buried her attention into preparing Scully's auburn tresses, while Scully just stared at him. Seeing Scully's blue eyes widen at the sight of him, he automatically began to check himself. He hadn't thought he'd put anything on wrong, it wasn't that much different from their usual outfits. He'd actually thought he looked rather all right. "Is something wrong?" he asked plaintively, earning a snort of amusement from Lita. Scully recovered her composure and gave him a look of pure appreciation. "No. You look wonderful!" Better than wonderful, she thought. The tunic graced his lean figure perfectly, highlighting the broadness of his shoulder and his height, the blue color contrasting with the black of his hair and gleaming hazel of his eyes. She liked the slighter longer length of his hair, the way the bangs draped across his temples, the bottom strands curled against his neck. He looked both handsome and distinguished - and very sexy in an inutterably masculine way. "Oh, thanks," he replied with relief. "I thought that I'd go catch up with Reinald for a while you get ready." "That's a good idea," she said, her lips curling upwards in a smile. "Better give us a couple hours at least." "Women." he said, shaking his head as he escaped out the door, only just missing being hit in the back by her towel. - - - - - The period of banishment had been worth it, Mulder decided as Lita finally allowed him to re-enter his room. Scully was standing by the edge of the bed, and the sight of her stole his breath away. Her hair was gathered up into a loose pile of brilliant curls on the top of her head, interwoven with gold strands that mirrored the shimmering embroidery on the sleeves, hem, and bodice of her deep emerald gown. A few copper- colored tendril of hair settled against the smooth porcelain skin of her neck and shoulders. The bodice of the gown framed her breasts in warm velvet folds edged with white lace, dipping precariously between them. The shoulders of the gown were settled just off the tops of her shoulders, the sleeves ending at her wrists in froths of white lace. The thick green velvet fit her figure like a glove, accentuating her chest, gathering tightly in a gold clasp at her waist, flaring over her hips and down to her feet, which were shod in matching slippers with gold twine wrapped around her ankles. "Scully," he gasped her name, all of his emotion flooding out from him, washing over her in waves of loving admiration. A smile of pleasure brought her reddened lips into a gentle upwards curve, as her eyes sparkled, the green of the dress altering their color to a deep sea-like aqua. She stretched out her hands to him, shyly asking him aloud if she looked all right. "Scully, you look incredible." He finally found the words to speak aloud, even though their bondlink was already being flooded with the intensity of the feelings she aroused in him, and the answering waves of emotion from her. As he took her hands into his and stepped closer to her, to gaze deeply into her eyes, Lita grabbed her nieces and yanked them from the room. Mulder and Scully never noticed the sound of the door closing. - - - - - ========================================== Chapter Fourteen - Part Two A Noon. Horns blared into the midday sun, announcing the start of the festival. Already, the dignitaries were in place for the procession into the Great Hall, the courtyard filled to bursting with people of all the four races, each dressed in their best finery. Humans wore the bright colors of their houses, red and green, orange, yellow and purple. The trolls were dressed in shining copper and iron armor, the gargoyles in multi-hued tunics, but the elves outshone everyone, their clothing shimmering like spun silver and gold in the sunlight, shade upon shade of yellow and white, augmented by encrusted jewels and glittering ceremonial daggers. Another blare of the resounding horns, and the doors to the hall opened, allowing the procession to move. Slowly, by order of customary precedence first the Head Priests of each sect, then the elders of each house marched into the hall, down toward the dais on which sat the small figure of Andalor, looking young and frail in the huge throne, and yet gravely regal. Each Representative bowed to the boy Prince, then led his retainers aside to their appointed place in the hall, creating a patchwork sea of colors. Once the Great Houses were in their places, the non- human Representatives followed, Mavor of the Elves, Kergidor of the Trolls, and Beerak of the Gargoyles. The final part of the procession was taken by castle staff and villagers, filling into the end of the hall in muttering, excited clusters, until the entire massive room was crammed, leaving only a small aisle down the center. Andalor rose slowly from his throne, using a small footstool carefully placed at the bottom of the giant wrought gold and iron chair. Once he was on his feet, he stood and waved out towards the crowd. In an instant the room fell silent, except for a few murmurs from some of the nobles, who fell swiftly to disgruntled silence when faced with the disdain of their fellows. A hushed expectancy fell over the room as the eight-year-old Prince took a deep breath and began to speak, his voice amplified by magical aids and the natural echoes in the hall. "People of the Kingdom of Fairwood, Races of the Realm, Travellers and citizens alike, welcome to Fairwood Keep. Its people are your friends, its fruits are yours to share. Come in peace, stay in peace, depart in peace. A time of great celebration is us upon as the Great Dark has been driven from the land. By joining our hearts and strengths as one, we have cleansed our homes of the shadow that threatened them. The Time of prophecy is over, and we are victorious!" Cheers rang out thoughout the room, accompanied by a nearly deafening stamping of feet on the stone floor. After a moment, Andalor again raised his hand, and silence returned. "The victory has not come without losses. Too many of our peoples are dead, and far too many wounded, suffering, homeless. Now the time has come to turn our great energies to healing the injured, rebuilding the villages, planting our harvests. Just as we fought and won, together, so too can we build together." "But that is for tomorrow. Today is a day of celebration and joy. Henceforth, this day of the year will be a day of festival, a day to put aside the chores of daily life and reflect upon the bounty of the land, to be grateful for our families and homes, to remember the Darkness that came so close to stealing it all away. Remember always and cherish the pleasures of our lives. The Time of the Prophecy has passed, and we are at last triumphant." Andalor again raised his delicate hand for silence, as another outbreak of cheers and foot-stomping rippled through the hall. "Before we begin the festival, there are a few who must be recognized for their courage and dedication to the Realm." The boy Prince nodded to the side, and a group of soldiers came forward, each carrying a a draped object in their arms. The first knelt beside the Prince and handed him a jeweled chain. Andalor took it from him, then turned to face the assembly. "Reinald, Regent of Fairwood, Royal Magician, step forward and be recognized." A ripple of color shimmered as Reinald threaded his way from the right corner to make his way onto the dais. Halting in front of the Prince, he dropped to his knees. "In recognition of your loyalty, and the great risks to thy health and safety taken to defend the Realm, I, Prince of the Fairwood Demesnes, do declare thee a hero of the Realm." Andalor chanted ritually as he dropped the glittering gold chain over the mage's bent, white-haired head. Reinald smiled proudly up at the boy as he bowed over the Prince's hand, then stood up and returned to his place. The same procedure was repeated three times, for Karvan of the Elves, Gytural of the Trolls, who had been the troll leader who had kept his troop fighting even when the vortex had gone wild, and Tarnor of the gargoyles. From their position in the back of the room, having taken places beside Jourdain and Aldara, Mulder and Scully exchanged delighted grins at seeing their little friend's ears twitch in excitement as the heavy gold chain was draped around his neck. "No one deserves it more," Jourdain whispered in Mulder's ear,. Mulder nodded in agreement. After the four Heroes had been recognized, Andalor next took a pair of silver daggers from the next soldier in line. "Bravery takes many forms, some are found in battle, some in self-sacrifice, some with a man's sword, some in a woman's heart. It has come to the attention of the crown that two of my finest officers, whose bravery on the battlefield have been a shining example to us all, have exchanged the vows of betrothal. There can be no better way to celebrate the return of the life and light to the Realm than to sanctify a marriage. Captain Jourdain, Sword- Master Aldara, please step forward." "What?" Jourdain exclaimed as Aldara gasped in surprise. Mulder gave him a slight push, and Scully winked brightly at Aldara. "Go on!" she said. Aldara was still leaning on a cane, her leg recovering slowly from its injuries. Knowing how painful each proud step was for her, about half-way down the aisle Jourdain scooped her up in his arms and carried his shocked, but smiling, betrothed up to the Prince amid rousing cheers and raucous laughter. Setting her down carefully in front of the Prince, they both bowed. The Prince inclined his head towards them, then gestured towards a tall, white-robed woman, wearing a heavy wrought iron necklace and a heavy lace veil, standing on the edge of the platform. The Priestess came forward to take the silver daggers from Andalor, then turned to stand silently facing the betrothed couple while Andalor climbed back up onto his throne. As the boy wriggled into his seat, the Priestess raised her hands high in the air and proclaimed in a commanding voice, "before all assembled, before the all-seeing eye and heart of the Mother and all the lesser Gods, we bring this man and this woman to be joined as one for now and all time forward." She pointed the two silver daggers at Jourdain and Aldara's chests. "Two as one you shall be, husband and wife. Bring forth children to grace your union, be strong in support of the land, never break this bond sworn to this day. Do you Jourdain, Captain of the Guard swear your faithfulness to this woman, of your own free will." "Yes," Jourdain responded gravely. "Do you, Aldara Sword-Master, swear your faithfulness to this man, of your own free will." "Yes," Aldara replied, her cheeks flushed and red, her eyes glittering as she turned to smile up at the tall man by her side. The white-clad Priestess held the two daggers out to Aldara and Jourdain. Each took one and staring into each other's eyes, made a quick slice on their palms, then pressed the cuts against each other, letting their blood mingle as it dripped into a chalice held beneath their clasped hands. After a moment, the blood stopped flowing and the Priestess spoke again. "As Priestess to the Goddess, the Mother of All, I so bind these two as husband and wife. May SHE bless you with children, may the Gods smile upon your path." Bringing the cup up to her mouth she took a swallow, then offered it to Jourdain, who drank, then gave it to Aldara, who did the same, then handed the cup back to the Priestess who gave it to a servant. Jourdain and Aldara turned to the crowd and held their hands up in the air. Those in front who could see the healed scars where the cuts had been broke out into loud cheers, which were soon were echoed throughout the room. Standing in the back, Mulder eyed his hand, then sent a thought down their mindlink to Scully. "If you don't mind, I think I'd rather wait until we get home to get married." While Jourdain and Aldara returned to their places in the back, Andalor reclaimed the stage from the Priestess, scrambling back down from the throne far less ceremoniously than he had before. Mulder thought with amusement that the boy must be getting rather bored by now; but as Scully pushed around Mulder to give Aldara a hug, the Prince resumed his regal bearing and gestured for silence. His child's musical voice rang out over the sounds of the crowd. "The last debt the Realm owes could never be paid in full. Any offering I could make would be an insignificant return on the sacrifices they have made for us. Travellers, come forward." It took Mulder and Scully a moment to remember that meant them, then Scully took Mulder's hand and led him forward. She knew this kind of thing embarrassed him, but she knew how important this was to Andalor. Solemnly they walked the length of the small corridor and up to the dais, then kneeled down in front of the Prince. "You have both offered your lives for the Realm, even though it is not your home. In recognition of your loyalty and bravery, you are hereby granted full rights and citizenship within the Fairwood Kingdom. Visitors you no longer are, here will be a home for you for as long as you wish it, for any and all time you wish to remain or return to this demesne. As a symbol of your status, I give you each a sword." At Andalor's words, two soldiers stepped forward, each bearing a shiny iron sword with a silver handle, encased in a wrought leather holder, the smaller one dyed brown and green, the larger one a deep rich blue. Mulder and Scully each took the appropriate sword and bowed to the Prince. "Thank you," they said in unison, blue eyes bright with unshed tears, hazel eyes clear and gleaming. As the two Travellers stood to face the assembly, thousands of voices rang out in one thunderous cheer. - - - - - The celebration went on throughout the day and deep into the night. Mulder and Scully had eaten until they were stuffed, danced until they were exhausted, and drank enough foamy ale to make them both giddy. After a fumbling start, full of good-natured laughter and slight embarrassment, they had both learned the elaborate line and circle patterns of the Realm's formal dancing. More than once, Jourdain had swept Scully away, leaving a blushing, but lovely Aldara to lean against the strength of Mulder's arm. The early tension between the half-elf and the foreign mage was long gone, replaced by a an easy and comfortable friendship. Sometimes they just stood and chatted, Mulder's dry wit picking at the various dignitaries until Aldara was laughing so vigorously she could hardly take a breath. Or he would mimic her new husband, picking up her small frame into his arms and carrying her across the floor. Scully saved a dance to drag the sputtering Reinald out on the floor, the mage disclaiming the entire time that he did NOT dance. But after the first few steps, and a good shove in the back by a very amused Mulder, he gave in and danced quite well, enjoying himself immensely, even though he refused to admit it. Mulder winked at Scully as he retrieved his life-bondmate from her reluctant partner, getting a peal of laughter in return. Even the old Healer Corvay was not completely immune from the festivities, Mulder and Scully both delighted to see him lead Lita in one of the dances. One look at Scully's happy, but thoughtful, face and Mulder teased her silently, through their bond-link, "Now, Scully, don't even think about it." Her face was purely innocent, and breathtakingly beautiful, as she turned to look up at him, the question in her wide, clear blue eyes and slightly parted lips. He grinned and leaned down to whisper in her ear, his breath hot against her neck, "No matchmaking!" She leaned back to look gravely up at him, "I wouldn't dare!" she said gravely, then bust out into laughter. "Come on, Mulder. Let's dance." After several hours, it was with a sense of relief that they finally escaped into Reinald's workroom, along with Reinald himself, Aldara, Jourdain, and Tarnor. Scully sank gratefully into the heavily-cushioned chair in front of the fireplace, her dress fanning out around him a rich folds of green velvet. Her cheeks were blooming with color from the dancing, her eyes were brilliant sapphires, gleaming with laughter and a bit too much wine. Mulder settled himself at her feet, long legs splayed out across the floor, leaning his head back against her lap. She rested one hand on his shoulder, using the other to gently caress his hair. He crossed his hand over his chest to hold hers and closed his eyes in pleasure. Jourdain took over the neighboring chair lifting his bride up into his lap. Aldara wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, resting in the security of his embrace, the bright yellow-green of her flowing silk dress spreading over Jourdain's cradling arms. Reinald eyed the two couples with unconcealed amusement, and when the customary offer of tea was refused all around, he pulled a third chair towards the fireplace, joining them while Tarnor got the fire started. Once it was blazing in the big hearth, throwing out streams of light and warmth, Tarnor squatted down on the floor beside Mulder with a sigh, rubbing his belly. "Ate too much, Tarnor?" Mulder teased. As the little gray gargoyle nodded, Scully grinned. "You're one to talk about over-eating. After today we may need to have poor Lita take out a seam in your clothing." Mulder shot her an exaggerated pout while the others laughed. Then he smiled, too, rubbing his own stomach. "You may be right." Once the laughter had died down, Scully turned to Aldara and Jourdain. "So what are your plans now? In our world, a marriage is usually followed by what we call a 'honeymoon' - the couple takes a trip together." "That's an interesting custom. Usually here, the newly- married stay at home with their families. In fact its customary that a member of both families is present at the first union." Aldara explained. "But our situation is a little different. Jourdain doesn't have much family still living, and mine has no interest in me." Mulder gave her a look of intense sympathy as Jourdain tightened his arms around his bride at the sadness in her voice and kissed the dark top of her head. "Your family is right here," he whispered. She angled her head to give him a glowing smile, then looked back at Scully. "Actually, I really like your custom. How long do these journeys usually last?" "Depends on the people involved, a couple of days to a couple of weeks. The idea is to give the newlyweds time alone together away from responsibilities." "I like the sound of that more and more," Aldara responded. Jourdain sighed, then grinned. "Why not? My men can handle cleaning up any stray creatures without me. And I've always wanted to visit the ocean." "Oh, yes, please!" Aldara said, her hair rippling down her back as she hugged Jourdain tighter, getting a snort from Reinald, mutual smiles from Scully, Mulder and Tarnor. "There's one thing I don't quite understand," Mulder commented. "Corvay explained to Scully about the rites of validation for a life-bond, in which the couple is left alone in a special house. Why is it so different from the marriage ceremony? After all, they're pretty much the same thing." "Marriages and life-bonds are often shared by the same two people, but not always," Reinald explained. "Most marriages do not involve a life-bond, though most life-bonded pairs do get married. Still, these are considered quite different events. A life- bond is a special joining of two individuals, private and unique to them. But a marriage is often far more than that, usually it is a joining of families and properties, involving questions of land rights, political alliances, and inheritances. Often the parents or siblings of the married couple have much more at stake than the new husband and wife. Also, its an ancient custom to have members of both families witness the...unh...proof of the bride's...ummm...innocence on her wedding night." He came to halt, his cheeks flushing bright red. Aldara and Scully both grinned at the mage's embarrasment, while Mulder looked thoughtful, absorbing the information. "What about you, Mulder, Scully?" Tarnor asked. "Marriage may be something of a formality with a life-bond, but have you thought about it?" "I think we'll wait until we get home," Scully replied, then added teasingly. "Mulder doesn't like the idea of cutting himself." "Home?" Jourdain and Aldara both stared at the Travellers. "You're not planning to try to go through the vortex again?" Jourdain asked worriedly. Mulder, Scully and Reinald exchanged glances, then Scully spoke softly. "I'm sorry. We meant to land the news on you later, in a better way. If there is a better way. It's just that I miss my family, and Mulder does too, at least..." she hedged, looking down at Mulder's darkening face. He spoke up quickly, deciding to tell them the full truth, however much it hurt to say it aloud. "My sister disappeared many years ago. I think she's still alive - somewhere. I swore that I'd never give up trying to find her. I can't do that here, I have to go home. And Scully's mother and sister and brothers must be frantic, not knowing what happened to her." Jourdain nodded, he understood about keeping oaths, especially the ones you made with yourself. But there was still the question of the vortex. "Manipulating the vortex already nearly killed you both once. Can you be certain that you can control the vortex enough to end up in the right place, and still alive?" "No, not for certain." Mulder admitted. "But this vortex will be much smaller than the one we created for the war. So it should be easier to control. Reinald was able to bring Tarnor, Scully and me through one alone, with my help, and the additional experience we've had, it should be easier this time." "Are you sure you don't want to stay here?" Aldara had to ask. She knew it was selfish of her, but she hated the thought of losing her friends, she had few to start with and Scully was as dear to her as any sister could be. "With your talents you could make a good life here. With the Dark gone, the Realm really is a pleasant place to live." Scully saw the pain in her friend's eyes, even through the alcoholic haze, and reached out to take her hand. "I don't like the idea of leaving our friends. You have been wonderful to us, and we've come to love you all very much. We thought very seriously about staying. But we have to at least try to get home. I'm worried about my mother. My father died recently, and having me just disappear like this will be very painful for her. I'm sorry Aldara, but we don't really belong here." "I understand," Aldara said tearfully. And as much as it hurt, she really did understand. "I'm going to miss you both a lot." "We're going to miss you, too," Scully replied, her blue eyes growing bright with unshed tears. "All of you." Her voice broke on the last word, and Mulder pulled her hand in his to his mouth so that he could kiss it, his mind sending waves of love and comfort through the life-bond. "Well, it's not like we're leaving tonight. It will take a while to make plans. No need to spoil tonight with good-byes." Mulder suggested. "That's right," Reinald agreed. "The spell will probably take days to work out. In the meantime, this is supposed to be a celebration. Anyone for another glass of wine?" "Sure," the men exclaimed, eliciting mutual sighs from the women. Tarnor had been silent up to this point, his ears twitching with emotion. Now he bared his alarming teeth in a wide grin and stood up. "I'll go see if there are any sober servants around," he offered, bobbing towards the door. When he didn't quite make it, coming to a confused halt then plopping to the floor with a loud burp, the others burst out laughing. "Forget the wine," Scully observed between giggles. "Better get Tarnor into his bed." "And me as well," Aldara responded. She hiccuped, then giggled again, as Scully couldn't resist commenting, "I don't think you'd fit to well into Tarnor's bed. Besides, I think Jourdain has other plans." "I think it's time to get YOU into bed," Mulder responded, standing up and scooping her up into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled against his shoulder. As Mulder carried her past the dazed figure of Tarnor, Scully leaned her head backwards to wink upside down at Jourdain and Aldara. "Enjoy your wedding night!" She dissolved into another fit of giggles as Mulder carried her through the door and down the hall, the room echoing with her mirth. - - - - - ========================================== Chapter Fourteen - Part Two B As a teary-eyed Lita left the room, Scully ran into the welcoming shelter of Mulder's arms. He clasped her against him, leaning down to kiss the tears from her eyes. She reached up to grasp onto his shoulders, letting his love wash over her in soothing waves. They remained standing in their embrace for a few moments, then Scully tilted her head up so she could meet his eyes. "I'm going to miss everyone here so much," she said. He leaned down to brush her lips with his, then nodded. "Me, too." He sighed, his eyes turning black. "I hated seeing Andalor so upset. He really wanted us to stay." "Yes, he's very attached to you," she said, remembering all too clearly the boy-Prince's unhappy response to their goodbyes that morning. It had been difficult for all involved, but especially for Mulder. He may not admit it, even to her, but she knew her life-bondmate well enugh to know that he was just as fond of the young Prince as Andalor was of him. "Just as Lita is attached to you." He whispered, catching the essence of her thoughts, even as he rested his forehead against the top of her head, breathing in the fragrance of her hair. "I wish there had been an easier way to do this." "Me, too," she echoed, presing her face into the muscular strength of his chest, the place just below his shoulder which she felt was made just for her. Lita, too had been deeply upset by the news they were leaving, though she had attempted to hide it. Scully wished there was a way she could have avoided hurting her friend's feelings. "How did Corvay take the news?" he questioned, sending a mixture of concern and suppport down their mindlink in response to her pain. "Well," she replied, her voice muffled by the fabric of his tunic. "I think he understood best of all. He wished us both well, and gave me a packet of his medicinal herbs." She angled her head up to look at him, a tentative smile on her face. Corvay had, as was usual with him, been very philosophical about the whole thing - and obviously unsurprised. "I think he knew somehow that we would need to leave once the battle was over, so was prepared for it, though I think he would have prefered for us to say." Her smile grew warmer. "He was gruff about it, but I think he'll miss me some." "I think he'll miss you a lot." Mulder responded, returning her smile. "I'll miss him too," Scully responded. "But I have to admit that I'm delighted with the herbs he gave me. I can't wait to be able to get them analyzed." His smile widened as he teased her. "Why am I not surprised, Doctor Scully?" "Beast!" she accused in a more lighthearted voice than he had heard from her in a while. He kissed her forehead, then looked down into her eyes, his expression becoming more serious. "I know saying goodbye to out friends here is hard, Scully, but I think we're doing the right thing. We belong in our world, not here." "You're right," she responded, her face saddened but certain. "All the training and then the trial and the war kept me too busy to think much about it, but now...now I just keep seeing my mother's face. Finding out we disappeared must have been devastating for her." "We'll get home, Dana," he reassured her, tightening his arms around her. "I promise." - - - - - The day Mulder and Scully left Fairwood dawned clear and bright, the sun beating down in shimmering waves of heat. Scully was already sweating by the time she had finished saddling her horse. The packs containing clothes, food, and the medicinal herbs Corvay had given her a a goodbye-gift were carefully secured to the back of the saddle, the sword that Andalor had given her was hanging down her back. She was dressed in a light green tunic over brown leggings, her feet encased in soft leather boots. As usual her hair was bound in a bright red, braided knot on the crown of her head. One final check of the girth and the bridle, and she knew there was no more reason for delay. She turned to Mulder who was standing by his horse, staring up at the castle, a somber expression on his face. He was dressed in a bright blue tunic, his matching mage cloak draped over the back of his saddle. The silver-gilded sword was hanging down his back, as crooked as ever, and she only barely resisted the temptation to reach out and straighten it. "Ready to go?" she asked. He turned to face her. "Yes, I guess there's no point in waiting." "I'll miss this place, too," she said sympathetically. "I know, Scully," he smiled softly down at her, his eyes bright as they looked into the beauty of her face. "Well, maybe this will help you remember us," Aldara's voice interrupted them as she hobbled into the courtyard, leaning on a silver cane. Behind her, Jourdain was carrying a large cloth bundle, tied with a bright red string. "What is it?" Mulder asked, curiosity lighting his eyes. "It's a tapestry. We had it commissioned the day after the celebration. Reinald set the spells himself, and Lita did most of the design work." Aldara explained with a hesitant smile. "That's wonderful!" Scully exclaimed, taking the heavy wrapped cloth from Jourdain. "We'll treasure it always." Mulder nodded agreement, his mouth curving upwards in a smile. "Are you sure you don't want company on the ride?" Jourdain offered, as he done repeatedly over the few days. "No, Jourdain, thank you. Tarnor will guide us well. You belong here with your bride. We wish you both the best." Scully replied, handing the tapestry over to Mulder, then reaching out to give first Aldara and then Jourdain a tearful hug. "Take good care of each other!" "We will," Jourdain promised, putting his arm around his wife's shoulders. Just as Mulder had finished securing the bundle to his saddle, Reinald rushed over to join them, his blue robe askew, his white hair sticking out in all directions. "I'm glad I didn't miss you before you left. I have something for you," he said, holding out a small pouch to Mulder. Mulder accepted it and opened the drawstring, pouring the contents out into his hand. It was a tiny version of the Oracle Cloud suspended on a thick gold chain. "It's beautiful," he said, eyes bright with pleasure. "I THINK it may allow you to contact me if necessary, even from your world. It will only work once, so be careful of when and how you use it." Reinald explained with some pride. Mulder's mage-trained eyes could see the blue strands of the spell on the tiny crystal, and he smiled gravely. "I will treat it with care, Reinald. Thank you." He pulled the chain over his neck and dropped the crystal under his shirt so that it rested against his chest. "Goodbye, dear friends," Reinald said sadly. "I hope you find your way home safely." "Goodbye," Mulder said reaching out to clasp his friend's shoulder. "We'll never forget you, all of you!" At that moment Tarnor led his small pony out of the barn and came up beside them. Mulder gave one more long look around at the place that had been their home for close to a year and sighed. "I guess we'd better get on the road." Scully agreed, turning to mount her horse with the ease of long practice. Once all three were mounted and ready to go, they rode silently to the edge of the courtyard, then turned and waved. Standing by the door to the stables, Reinald, Jourdain and Aldara waved back, watching together as the three riders guided their horses in a steady trot to the castle gates, then waving back once more, urged them out onto the road, breaking into a smooth cantor. "Gods go with you," Aldara whispered, leaning against her husband's shoulder. "May the Mother watch your path and guide you safely home." "Amen," Jourdain responded, still gazing out at the dusty road. "Amen." - - - - - The ride through the woods was quiet and peaceful. Except for the occasional deer-like animal and the ever-present chattering birds, they did not encounter another living soul once they left the Forest Edge Village where they had stopped for dinner and a good night's sleep. The last day of their three-day journey was spent mostly in silence, each caught up in his or her own private thoughts. Mulder and Scully were not shutting each other out, they simply gave each other the space they each needed to start putting the past behind them and begin the process of focusing on the future. Tarnor guided them easily through the woods, closing in on the vortex site hour by hour. They stopped for lunch on the banks of a small stream, refreshing themselves with the clear water and a meal of bread and fruit. Then they continued along their journey, in places having to dismount and lead the horses through the dense forest, in others having to use their swords to cut the heavy brush back from the heavily overgrown path. But Tarnor's gargoyle sense of direction was just as exact here in the deep woods as it was in the rambling mines and caves of his people's homes, and he brought them into the familiar clearing by late afternoon. A wide grin broke over Mulder's face as he gazed up at the massive oak he had fallen into on their first trip through the vortex. "Well, at least I know I won't get stuck up in a tree in the lab," he commented wryly. "That's if we actually end up in the lab," Scully reminded him. "Are you sure you can do this?" she asked Mulder anxiously. Now that they were actually here, her fears over stepping into the unknown vortex were rising sharply. Mulder swallowed, the instant reassurance dying on his lips. "I...I THINK so, Scully," he replied honestly. "If you want to call this off, I'll understand," he said, sharing her concerns. Though he thought he could handle this, he couldn't be certain until he tried it, and he was hesitant to put Scully in danger. "No" Scully said, her chin jutting forward in determination. They had come this far, she was not going to give up now. Not when they could be home in a matter of minutes - well, at least in the right dimension. She slid down off her horse, then glanced up at her partner, blue eyes bright as she insisted firmly. "Take us home, Mulder!" He nodded, accepting her decision. Dismounting from his horse, he took Scully's reins and handed both horses over to Tarnor. As he and Scully both removed the packs from the horses, he told Tarnor to take the horses out of sight. "The last thing we need is the horses bolting from fright." Tarnor bobbed his head in understanding. He looked anxiously at the couple standing on the forest floor in front of him, his ears twitching. "Good luck to you both. I hope your journey home is both quick and safe." "You, too, Tarnor," Scully responded, knowing she spoke for both Mulder and herself. Smiling she reached to tap the little gargoyle on his leg. "Take good care of Reinald, and watch out for Jourdain and Aldara." "I will," he promised, giving them one last glimpse of his toothy smile. Then he turned to lead the horses back through the woods, leaving Mulder and Scully standing alone in the fading light, small leather bundles piled at their feet. "Ready?" Mulder asked, throwing one of the packs over his shoulder by its straps and hefting the bundle containing the tapestry in his left hand. "Yes," Scully answered tensely, looping the other two packs over her shoulder, then reaching out to take his right hand. He threaded his fingers tightly through hers, then closed his eyes and began to concentrate. Scully felt the now-familiar power grow in him, blue strands of fire lancing up and down their clasped arms, filling the small glade with brilliant blue light. Quickly grounded and shielded, so as not to create too much of a Mage-storm, Mulder centered, then focused the power, slowly building the vortex spell step by step. Scully shuddered and moved closer to him as the wind began to pick up and the air darkened. Mulder's chant was silent, but it echoed in both their minds as it increased in intensity, the power leaping up around their bodies, then swirling out at his command to form a pinpoint of light a few feet in front of them. The small center of the spell wavered and expanded, seemingly drinking the very air itself. Concentric black and white circles formed one upon another, rippling in a mesmerizing flow of light and darkness. One shouted command escaping from Mulder's clamped lips and it burst into outward into a shimmering whirlpool nearly six feet wide. Wind whipped around it, making Mulder and Scully fight for their footing as they stepped cautiously toward the mouth of the vortex. Right at its edge, the paused and looked deep into each other's eyes. "I love Dana!" Mulder's mindvoice echoed in Scully's mind. "I love you Fox!" she sent back, grasping onto his hand so tightly her fingers turned white. Minds melding in one last exchange of affection and commitment, they simultaneously closed their eyes and stepped forward into the vortex... End Chapter Fourteen ========================================== Chapter Fifteen - Part 1 ...and the Vortex spat them out into that cold, sterile room, five feet from the surface of the floor. "Aaaagghhh! God damn it!" "Mulder, are you all right? Oh, gods, my head!" Scully rubbed her temple where it had struck the counter. The room was dark, but certainly looked like the place they had left precipitously so long ago. The windows looked out on a night sky and rain spattered against the glass. The room was chilly, with a strange, foreign, metallic smell to it. "Yeah, I just twisted my knee. Not even back thirty seconds and I'll need to have x-rays. Incredible," growled Mulder. He dragged himself and his bundles over to the closest wall and sat leaning against it. Still dizzy from the trip through the Vortex, Scully grabbed her sack and crawled over on her hands and knees to where Mulder was sitting. "Let me see it. You're going to have to take your pants down, Mulder - they won't roll up and I need to examine your knee. It's going to be hard enough in the dark." "Just don't take advantage of me in my weakened condition," said Mulder. He did as she asked and grimaced in pain when the movement jarred his leg. "You should be so lucky," murmured Scully, examining his knee with her now curious mixture of conventional medical knowledge and Realm healing practices. She was quiet for a while, obviously trying very hard to concentrate. "Well, you did a nice job, Mulder - it's definitely badly sprained, with maybe some ligament damage thrown in for good measure." "Can you fix it, or are you going to make me go to the hospital and then I'll have to fill out all those insurance forms. I can hardly wait until I get to the space where it asks how the accident happened - "Well, I was returning through a vortex from another reality when -" They'll lock me up for sure." "In view of some of your other injuries and how they were acquired, I wouldn't worry about it." Scully looked at him. "Well, it will be interesting to see if psychic healing works in this reality. I was able to examine your knee the "Realm way", but it was more difficult to do and the results were less clear than they would have been in the Realm. Okay, hold still, let's see what I can do." She laid her hands on his knee and concentrated as hard as she could, reaching in with her mind to find the injured cells, help them heal, stop the small amount of bleeding in the tissues, and soothe the inflammation away. She was trembling with the effort when she felt Mulder's hand on her cheek. "Scully, it's all right, come out of it." Mulder's expression was concerned and he sought her eyes anxiously. She took a deep, tremulous breath. "Evidently, these powers don't travel well. Did I make any difference?" "Yeah, the pain's not so bad now. I got a feeling of warmth when you were in there. It's still pretty swollen, though." Mulder pulled up his leather breeches. "Do you think it's the same with all the extraordinary things we could do in the Realm? Do you think we're losing everything?" Scully asked, suddenly alarmed. "Mulder, our link!" Almost in a panic, his mind reached out to hers, and she caught and held it gratefully, caressing it in relief. She put her arms around him. "Oh, thank the gods, Mulder. It seems like we've given up so much to come back home, but that's the one thing I didn't want to lose - that feeling, that closeness. I don't think I could stand being 'alone' in there again." Mulder smiled gently, tracing her hairline, her eyes, her lips with his fingertips. "I guess life-bonds travel better. No, I couldn't stand it either." He kissed her slowly, sweetly, his gratitude for that special bond evident in his touch. They held each other close for some time, celebrating the survival of that most precious souvenir of the Realm. "I wonder what the date is? Too bad there's no calendar in here," Mulder said. "Everything looks exactly the same as when we left, but I suppose this lab hasn't changed substantially in years. I'm just assuming that the door is locked, of course. Uh, Scully, you wouldn't want to walk over there and check it out, would you? In view of my weakened condition?" "That's going to get old real quick, Mulder." Scully cautiously got to her feet, holding on to the wall for support until the dizziness had abated. Then she walked the length of the room and tried the doorknob. "Locked." She felt the walls near the door. "Evidently the light switch is on the outside of the room. So we're going to stay locked in the dark for a while. She walked back again to Mulder and sat down next to him on the floor. "Now what?" "Well, we'll see when it gets light. Kind of depends on what day it is. If we've had the lack of foresight to come back on a Sunday, we could be in here for a while. If it's a weekday, someone will be around, either next door or below us or somewhere. Hell, we can heave a piece of equipment out the window to attract attention if we have to. Or, I could try to unlock the door." "Too bad you don't have your burglary tools with you," Scully commented. "Well, you had the opportunity to see if your powers still worked, let me see what I can do with mine." She sensed him concentrate and go through the now automatic routine of centering, grounding and shielding. Scully saw the doorknob turn marginally, heard a metallic clicking sound from time to time. Sweat stood out on Mulder's brow from the effort he was exerting. "Mulder, stop. It doesn't matter. Not at this point, anyway," said Scully, concerned. "I see what you meant, Scully. It seems like it's harder to focus, harder to see what you're trying to do." Mulder sighed. "Well, it was nice while it lasted. Too bad, I was kind of looking forward to levitating a few bad guys." "Just as well, Mulder. Try explaining THAT to Skinner." Scully smiled up at him. They were quiet for a while, locked in their own thoughts. Scully sighed and opened the sack. She took out the tapestry and sat touching it wistfully. Mulder entered her mind very gently and sensed her melancholy. "I know - I miss them already too." "Mulder, did we make the right decision? It seems we left just when things were going to be at their best - the Prince back in good health, the Dark Realm forces defeated, that little wart Drellor in prison. Maybe we should have stayed around for a while, to enjoy it while we could, without the training and the fighting and the blood and the horror." He held her closer and stroked her hair. "The longer we stayed, the more attached we would have gotten and the harder transition we would have back here." She nodded. "I know that. I guess I'm just being selfish, but if it hadn't been for my family, I would have been happy to stay there. If it hadn't been for your search for Samantha, you would have wanted to stay, too." She felt his mind flinch, recoiling slightly at the mention of Samantha's name, and she communicated an apology. "No, that's all right," Mulder said with a sad smile. "You're right, Dana, a large part of why we came back was because of my work and your family. But it's not like we had a horrible existence here. I think that you're tired and reacting to the effects of the Vortex and the transition back. Give yourself some time. Besides, there's some good things about being back." "Like?" Scully was getting a perverse pleasure out of her depression, and was not about to give up on it easily. "Okay, how about coffee? As wonderful as their tea was, there were times in the Realm I would have killed for a cup of coffee. And sunflower seeds. Of all the plants for the Realm not to have! And tacos and burritos and pepperoni pizza. Uh- oh, probably not a good subject to raise, sitting in a locked room. I know we have bread and jerky, but somehow it's just not quite the same." Scully smiled. "You know what I missed the most? Showers! Tubs are great, and sometimes even fun," she said with a sidelong glance at Mulder. "But I want a nice hot shower so bad..." "Showers can be fun, too," said Mulder, and he looked so hopeful that Scully laughed in spite of herself. They were quiet for a few seconds, just enjoying being in each other's presence. "Thank you," she said. "For what?" "For being you. For loving me." She took hold of his hand as it rested against her shoulder and threaded her fingers through his. "Mmmm. Any time." He sighed and lay his cheek against her hair. "That's going to be something else to get used to." "What?" "You and me. Here." Scully snuggled into his chest. "Maybe that's another reason why I miss the Realm so much - I kind of associate the Realm with you and me being, you know, together and life-bonded. I associate our world with having to hide feelings and being unaware of our life-bond and being so alone." "Never again," he said firmly. Mulder thought for a minute. "We're still life-bonded and we'll always have that, it's undeniable. And because of that, we'll never be alone again, for which I, for one, am incredibly grateful." He hugged her tighter and she returned his embrace. "But about the 'hiding our feelings' part - there's still the Bureau." "I know - Mulder , what are we going to do?" "I don't know, we'll figure it out. I think as long as we're discrete, it will be alright. Maybe business as usual at the office, and we'll figure out something with the living arrangements. "How are we going to explain all this Vortex and gargoyle business to Skinner?" asked Scully. "Now that is definitely something I'm too tired to think about right now. I don't know, let's wait until we've talked to Professor Neumann. We might as well get some rest. Nothing's going to happen until it gets light out, at the earliest, and it doesn't look like that is going to happen any time soon." They closed their eyes, not counting on sleeping, but the effects of the trip through the Vortex and their attempts to use their powers had drained them more than they knew. They slept leaning against the wall in each other's arms for several hours. - - - - - The thud of a closing door nearby awakened them with a start. They had just opened their eyes to the murky dawn light when the overheads came on suddenly, and they involuntarily closed them again. They heard the sound of a key in the door, and forced their eyes open, squinting in the bright light. "My God!" Professor Neumann stood silhouetted in the doorway against the dark of the prep room. "Where did you go to? God, look at you!" He stared at them, disbelief, wonder, and fascination passing in turns over his face. Mulder and Scully rose to their feet, Mulder with some difficulty. "It's a very long story," he said. Suddenly, his attention was focused on the vinyl tile floor. Either they had very poor custodial services, or... "Professor Neumann, how long have we been gone?" Hearing the tension in Mulder's voice, Scully looked up at him, and started to touch his mind. Coffee stains? "It's Wednesday morning - you disappeared Monday evening." Scully stared at him. "That's impossible," she said flatly. Mulder was staring out of the window, then he turned around to face her. "No, he's right. I noticed those stains on the floor where someone had dripped coffee and they're the same, exactly the same. The trees are still in bud, exactly as they were when we left. And more proof - our rental car is still in the same place we parked it, except it appears to have a small collection of parking citations on it now. No, Scully, he's telling the truth. I just can't explain it." Neumann continued to stare at them as they talked, his eyes dilated with amazement. Thirty six hours ago, he had met two professionally dressed and coifed agents, in good physical shape but nothing special, with the pallor of a long winter on their skins. Now - God, now! They both wore leather breeches, soft white shirts and some kind of leather vest or tunic, and were shod in boots. The clothing was certainly a departure, but the Professor had been around Cambridge long enough to see everything in terms of bizarre clothing choices. It was the physical changes which were so striking. The young man's physique was different - leaner, stronger, the shoulders and chest broader. He had a hardness, an edge to him, a presence or sense of self that simply hadn't been there before. The woman, too. Gone was any sense of softness. Her appearance almost screamed that this woman was a force to be reckoned with. She, too, was much leaner and stronger looking, her arms like whipcord. With both of them, there was something in the eyes - knowledge, horror, peace; just a hint of more substance. Both were tanned and windburned, the kind of changes to skin that occur only over long periods of living or working out of doors. Both had long hair, several inches longer than it had been, definitely not FBI issue and a change that could not occur in a day and a half. "Wherever you've been, it's obvious you've been there for more than thirty six hours," he finally said, his voice calmer than he felt. "I'll put on some coffee and we can talk about it." "Could we talk somewhere the recovery team did not have access to yesterday? I don't like to sound paranoid, but I think you have to at least consider the possibility that some bugs may have been left behind." "A very good point, Mr. Mulder. I will have some people I know do a thorough check later today. Meanwhile, we can go into a conference room that has been in constant use for the past two days for a meeting." They walked down the hallway, or hobbled in Mulder's case, to the conference room where they were unlikely to be disturbed, at least not for several hours. A stunned silence was maintained while the professor fired up the Mr. Coffee, and then poured out a cup of the strong brew for each of them. "Why don't you tell us what went on here after we 'left'. You don't have quite as much time to fill in as we do," suggested Mulder. He sipped the coffee as if it were ambrosia. Professor Neumann nodded. "Well, I'm assuming you heard the arrival of the recovery team?" Mulder and Scully inclined their heads. "They kicked in the door and were not pleased when they found nothing. They interrogated myself and my assistant for several hours, including lie detector tests. It perhaps worked to everyone's benefit that we did not have a lot of time to talk and exchange ideas prior to your disappearance. Since I had no idea where you might have gone, passing the polygraph was not a problem." "They really forced you to take a polygraph?" Scully asked, astounded. "Well, no one put an actual gun to my head," replied Neumann. "They just threatened to pull strings and have my grants withdrawn - a fate worse than death, as any research scientist will tell you. In fact the gun may be preferable - only one life is snuffed out, not a huge body of research." Mulder looked a little guiltily at Scully, then at Neumann. "Anything else?" "They searched the place pretty thoroughly yesterday, looking for hidden panels, anything that could explain how you had managed to elude them. They seemed especially diligent when they learned - not from me, by the way - that you, Mr. Mulder, were the agent in charge of the case. They left midafternoon yesterday. Evidently the official line is to be that it was a student prank. They were not amused by the incident." "Did they leave you with the impression that they might be coming back?" The Professor shrugged. "Anything's possible, I suppose, but I honestly didn't get that feeling. I got the idea that they felt they had wasted enough time here and were only too happy to go back to Hanscom. Now, Mr. Mulder, I think you two have a story to tell, do you not?" Mulder nodded. "You might want to use those tape recorders over there, and make an audio record for each of us. For our own private use, right? I'm warning you in advance, a lot of what you are going to hear is going to sound crazy. As far as physical evidence goes, there's our appearances, which show changes that can't have been accomplished in thirty six hours. We have some things here in the sack which we brought with us, but I'm not sure how much they prove. And we have the fact that you saw us go into the locked room with Tarnor, and not come out." "Tarnor?" "Oh, yes, sorry. That was the name of the gargoyle." Mulder looked at Scully - this was going to be very difficult. Scully looked at him sympathetically and shrugged. If Mulder had come to her with this story, she would have been very hard- pressed to believe it, and she knew and respected him. What was this complete stranger - a physicist, no less, used to masses of quantifiable data - going to believe? As if he had read their minds, he said, "I want to assure you - I'm a lot more openminded than you may think. Space/time continuum experiments open up a lot of areas that have only been explored in science fiction. Often, there is a sense of unreality about what we do." Mulder smiled. "The irony is, Dr. Neumann, that it isn't a case of a lack of reality - it's more a case of too many realities. Start your tape recorders." When the machines were running, Mulder quickly gave a summary of how the Bureau had been notified, the history of X-File involved, the telepathic communication with the creature, and their fall through the Vortex. "We were in a reality that had multiple species of intelligent lifeforms - humans, gargoyles, trolls and elves, which lived together in towns but also had separate settlements. Interspecies bigotry was not unknown but neither was it institutionalized or encouraged. All spoke the same language and participated to varying degrees in the same culture, government, and so on. Certain species had particular gifts, talents and other attributes, which we can talk about in more detail later. There was a feudal/agrarian kind of economy and a parliamentary monarchy politically. Technologically, the Realm was at a par of say, Europe in the 13th or 14th century, with some exceptions - anachronisms, I guess you'd say. However, certain of their institutions showed an amazing degree of sophistication; for the most part, these were areas in which paranormal or supernatural forces were harnessed and used. I can speak directly to the use of magic." Mulder then went on to explain about how he was trained as a magician, the language spell that permitted them to communicate,and some of the feats of which he was capable in the Realm, up to and including building the Gate and the Vortex. Professor Neumann's eyes grew wide with fascination and delight. Mulder then handed the microphone to Scully. "I can speak to the use of what would be considered in this reality paranormal forces in the diagnosis and treatment of disease and injury." Scully then went on to describe her training as a Healer, the use of herbal remedies and the use of psychic healing for everything from abrasions to Mulder's poisoning, from broken bones to ruptured organs. She handed the microphone back to Mulder, her chest constricting with something very like homesickness for the Realm that was so far away. "This is all sounding very dry and clinical," Mulder said. "Actually, it was anything but. The people and other beings there were wonderful, with just as many heroes and villains, just as many clowns and tragic figures as we have in our reality. We really became totally integrated into their world in an amazingly short length of time. We left behind a lot of good friends." Mulder felt his throat tightening with emotion as he thought of them. "How long did you perceive you were there?" inquired Neumann. Because of the professor's involvement with time experiments, Mulder gave the question serious consideration and tried to be as accurate as possible in his answer. "It's difficult to tell - they did not appear to have very sophisticated processes in place for measuring time - it was mostly by natural phenomena - moon cycles, seasons, things like that. As far as I am aware there were no clocks, and I never heard dates referred to. It was all rather vague. Our watches stopped when we went through the Vortex , not that they would have accurately measured time in the Realm in any case. To answer your specific question, we were under the impression that we were there 9 to 12 months. I'm sorry I can't be any more specific. We weren't really keeping track." "I can understand why Scully was trained as a healer, because she's a doctor here. Why in the world were you trained as a wizard?" asked Professor Neumann. "Actually, she was a warrior first and a Healer second," Mulder explained. "It has to do with auras. These people believed that some things are destined to be, and it's indicted by an aura of a certain color or quality. The aura might indicate certain talents or in some rare cases, couples who are predestined to be together. My aura is a bright clear blue, considered to be indicative of magical ability. In a way, that's how we ended up in the Realm, because of our auras." Oh god, he's never going to believe this, thought Mulder. "That's right," said Scully. "They had an ancient Prophecy that told of a powerful magician who is bonded to a warrior/Healer who come from far away and save the Realm from an unspeakable evil. My aura, warrior's green and Healer's brown, is unique - it doesn't exist for anyone else. Tarnor acted as a conduit, our auras were noticed and we were - not prevented - from being sucked into the Vortex." Scully paused. "Which brings me to the important thing we must discuss - " "Just a minute. First tell me what you mean by 'bonded'." "That's something personal. In any case it can wait," said Scully. "Well, what about this unspeakable evil?" "That's what we're trying to explain," said Mulder. "The Vortex is not a natural occurrence in the Realm. It has appeared on an irregular basis for a very long time now. At one time they were conducting experiments with it, but none was successful. When Tarnor and Scully and I travelled through, it was the first time anyone had been retrieved successfully from this world back to the Realm. We believe strongly that there is be a correlation between the experiments you perform on an irregular basis and the appearance of the Vortex in the Realm." Professor Neumann nodded. "Based on what I know of the experiments that were performed before my time, and certainly the ones I've been performing, I'd say that is surely a possibililty." Mulder sighed. "If it were merely a case of an intermittant link between our world and the Realm, I would not be quite so concerned. I still wouldn't rest easy, knowing some of the types like the recovery team that could go in there and wreak havoc, but it wouldn't be as horrible a situation as the one that existed." Neumann frowned. "Was there a problem?" Scully took up the story. "The problem was that the Realm and our reality were not the only ones involved. There was at least one other, what the people of the Realm called the Dark Place. It was -" Scully shuddered a little and forced herself to continue - "it was a place populated by hideous nightmare creatures that slaughtered whatever got in their path wherever they went. They used the Vortex to enter the Realm. They killed tens of thousands, between the villages they wiped out, and the men and women killed on the field of battle, trying to drive them out. That was the unspeakable evil the Prophecy talked about. For us, the war ended just a couple of weeks ago. You can't even begin to imagine how horrible it was." "And you think that our experiments created the Vortex, allowing these other creatures to enter the Realm," said the professor thoughtfully. Mulder's face reflected the horrors that he and Scully had experienced. "Well, it's extremely unlikely that these Dark Realm creatures would have any form of culture which would support a science sophisticated enough to have a Vortex that originated with them. These beasts were just killing machines, they didn't even have an organized army, just packs of vicious things running amok. And we have no idea what other realities may have been linked." He paused. "We had no certainty that we would emerge here when we came back, we could have ended up anywhere, including that nightmare place. There may be forces at work here we're not aware of that direct where something exits from the Vortex." "God, it would be fascinating to be able to find out what those forces are, to control them, to have a limited transportation back and forth," Neumann's face was illuminated with the wonder of it all. "Can you imagine how fantastic it would be?" "Forgive me if I don't share your enthusiasm," Mulder said drily. "Don't get me wrong, I would love to go back to the Realm someday; we nearly chose to stay there. But not if there is any risk of again exposing the innocents of that place and time to the nightmare we were forced to deal with. And there's another reason. We couldn't be sure that those creatures weren't coming through to our world. As far as I know, nothing but dumb luck prevented it. In brief, Professor, if we're going to open doors, we'd better know what's behind them." "What are you going to do?" Neumann asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and concern. Mulder bent over and rested his arms on this knees. He shook his head and stared at the ground, then looked up at the physicist. "I don't know, I honestly don't. How likely do you think it is that anyone will believe our story?" The professor smiled and shook his head. "Exactly. No one is going to believe it. If we were believed, that might be worse. The next thing you know the NSA or some organization like it would be in charge of the project, and those 'Gestapo types' you mentioned, Professor Neumann, will be trying to take over the Realm. I would personally blow up this lab and take the consequences to prevent that from happening, or to prevent another catastrophe like the one we saw with the Dark forces." Mulder looked Neumann directly in the eyes. "The Realm is a living, breathing culture, as rich or richer than our own in many ways. We have a lot to learn from them. For one thing, there was quite a bit about their practice of medicine that was more effective and much more humane than our own. But while I would hate to see the door to the Realm shut forever, it would be preferable to contamination from another reality." "Is there any way that the experiments could be controlled to eliminate the risk of opening up another Dark Realm?" asked Scully. "Possibly," said Neumann. "You see, we were just working on theory before, merely hypothesizing that other realities existed. By your evidence, we now know that they do exist. Knowing that, I think some safeguards can be built in that...just give me a minute here." He grabbed a pencil and pad of paper from the conference table and rapidly began scrawling some complex mathematical formulae. He worked intently for at least fifteen minutes. Finally Scully said, "Professor?" "Oh, sorry, I forgot that you were here," he said with an apologetic smile. "All right. Yes, theoretically, it is possible to build in a 'directional factor'. I can't explain the physics of it to you, and there's a lot of data correlation I would have to do to be certain, but I believe that it is possible." "You're saying that you think there's a way to continue the experiments that would guarantee that other 'doors' would stay closed, and you could open the door to the specific reality you wanted to explore," Mulder said. Neumann nodded. "Theoretically, yes." "Professor, how many people are involved in your experiments?" "Myself and my assistant, Dr. Karen Mather, are the only ones with complete knowledge. I bring others in as I need them to run certain equipment, record results, that kind of thing. They're usually grad students, looking for either money or academic credits. Actually, it's possible for me to perform most of the experiments with just my assistant." "Could you please excuse us, professor? Just for a minute?" Mulder asked. "Certainly. I 'll arrange for that electronic surveillance sweep. I'll call from my office." - - - - - =============================================== Chapter Fifteen - Part Two - A They watched him leave. "Mulder, what do you-", Scully began. //No, Scully, like this// Mulder's thoughts came through to her mind clearly. //What do you think?// //I think he means what he says, Mulder. I think he'll try to eliminate the risk of opening another door like the one to the Dark Realm. But just because he has good intentions doesn't mean it's possible.// //I know. The safety of the Realm has to be the number one priority, that goes without saying. But I hate the idea of that door closing forever. And there's the practical aspect. I think it is very unlikely that we could convince Professor Neumann to just drop his life's work, and that of Dr. Mather. Short of blowing up the building with everyone in it, I think the best we may be able to hope for is to convince him of the need to protect the Realm from contamination by other realities, our own included. Limited exchange is one thing, contamination is something else. Do you think we can trust him to take the same care we would?// //Well, I certainly think he's not likely to bring in the NSA or any other government organization, which is to his credit. As to the safeguards to prevent undesired 'leaks' between realities, I think he'll do his best. His fascination and curiosity could get the better of him, though. He might decide to go ahead with an experiment even if the safety factors are not all that they should be. He reminds me of you a little, Mulder - I think he sometimes lets his fascination come before good sense. Don't you think he might tend to let his enthusiasm run away with him?// Professor Neumann knocked and entered the conference room to find Mulder and Scully silent and looking at each other intently. He carried Scully's purse, left behind when they tumbled into the Vortex. //I don't think so, Scully. First, I might risk my own skin, but I wouldn't risk anyone else's, and I think he's the same. I don't know why, but I trust this guy. I'd like to know a little more about his assistant, though.// Mulder smiled. //This way of talking is going to come in real handy, Scully.// Scully smiled back. //Yes, well, right now Neumann is looking at us like we just arrived from Mars, so you'd better say something.// "Sorry, Professor, just thinking," Mulder said. "What can you tell us about your assistant, Dr. Mather?" "She's in her early fifties, has been here since she was an undergraduate. She's been like a daughter to me and I'd trust her with my life. She, too, has had her share of grief from government sources. I had mine in Germany as a young man under the Nazis; she had hers when her father was hauled up before the House Un-American Activities Committee in the fifties. She continued in the family tradition by being arrested frequently during anti-war protests here in Cambridge in the sixties and early seventies. She has an almost pathological reaction to government control. In other words, Mr. Mulder, I think you'd like her. You will forgive me, the chief of the recovery team yesterday went on in some detail about you." Professor Neumann grinned. Mulder grinned back. "All very complimentary, I'm sure." He looked at Scully, felt her mind. "All right, Professor, we don't really have much choice other than to trust you. Just remember - the people of the Realm are like family to us. We will not take it kindly if they get hurt." The necessary warning given, he crossed to where the sack lay on the table. "If it helps you to make them more real, look at these." He pulled the tapestry and swords and some of the other gifts from the bag. Scully joined the men at the table, and Mulder and she explained the gifts, their use, their significance, to a fascinated Neumann. At times in their story, one or the other would be overcome by the memories and have to stop to regain control, while the other went on. Eyes shining with wonder and emotion, Professor Neumann looked at them when they had finished, and spoke with sincerity. "I give you my word, the Realm will not be placed in any further jeopardy by my experiments. I am only sorry for the damage caused by our ignorance. Rest easy, Mr. Mulder, it will not happen again. Dr. Mather will agree." He offered his hand, which Mulder and then Scully solemnly shook. - - - - - The rest of the day went by in a surrealistic blur. They collected the rental car and drove back to the hotel. It had taken Scully a moment to remember how to operate the car, and driving, like everything else - sounds, sights, smells - seemed both strange and familiar. When they got to the hotel, they changed into sweaters and jeans, rediscovering the most mundane things with a momentary flash of surprise - zippers, running water, flush toilets. Then, Scully finished packed their belongings while Mulder put in a call to Skinner at the Bureau. He gave a quick summary of the status of the case, hoping Skinner would not ask too many questions until he had had a chance to think up more plausible answers. "I'd like you and Agent Scully to report to me in person on this matter, Agent Mulder," said Skinner in his typically closed manner. "I'll be in meetings for the rest of today and a good part of tomorrow. Be in my office with Agent Scully on Friday morning at 9 a.m. sharp." "Yes, sir. By the way, I injured my knee. I'm just going to have it checked out up here before returning." He heard Skinner's sigh of impatience. "Agent Mulder, do you have a death wish? Is there some reason that you are unable to complete a case without ending up in a hospital?" "Just bad luck, sir." "Alright, just follow Bureau protocol. You should be familiar enough with it." "Yes, sir." Mulder hung up with a sigh of relief. At least now they had some time to think. Checking out of the hotel was next, and doing so as though they had only been there for a couple of days added to their disorientation. But they made it to Mass. General and then on to the airport without mishap. Mulder was not happy about squeezing onto a plane with his damaged leg, but luckily their flight was relatively empty. A flight attendant, taking pity on Mulder with his knee now encased in a Velcro splint and being impressed by the FBI ID, showed them to some empty seats in the nearly deserted first class section where he would be able to stretch his leg out more comfortably. Scully shot him a dirty look when he gave more than passing thought to using the device every time they flew. The entire flight and the drive back to Mulder's apartment was the same bizarre mixture of familiarity and strangeness. On one level, flying in a jet and driving a car were things that were accepted, that they did every day. But in a way, their minds were still very much in the Realm. Every stimulus brought a sort of double-take of response - the first response from the mindset of the Realm, one of wonder and surprise and newness; and the second one, almost of tedium, accompanied by a depressing suspicion that their whole stay in the Realm had been a figment of their imaginations. On their arrival in Washington, Mulder's eidetic memory was, not for the first time, invaluable. After the passage of nearly a year in Realm-time, Scully had no idea where they had left the car in the multilevel parking garage. After finally locating the car, they found themselves facing the massive culture shock that was Washington traffic during rush hour, resulting in a long and frustrating drive to Mulder's apartment. After Scully drew up to the curb outside his building, they sat motionless for some time, then looked at each other and smiled, both a little uncomfortable. "I know it's stupid to feel like this," Scully said. "I guess this is kind of what I meant when I said that I don't associate the places in this reality with our being together." "You can go back to your place if you want, Dana. If you don't feel ready for this here." Mulder's eyes were calm but he had pulled down a light shield, so Scully knew he was not quite as equable as he appeared. "No! No, I'm just being silly," she said firmly, as if trying to convince herself. "Anyway, I'd have to drive your car home and I don't think it would be a good idea to have your car parked outside my apartment all night." "It's been there before, when we've been working on a case, and your's has been over here all night. Let's not get morbidly sensitive about all this." Mulder smiled. "Discretion is one thing, paranoia is something else. Besides, I'm the one that's supposed to be paranoid enough for the both of us." They got out of the car, Scully carrying the sack and bundles, Mulder leaning heavily on his crutches as they slowly made their way up the walk and then up the steps to Mulder's building. "Better use your keys, Scully. Mine were in my jacket pocket and I think they fell out when I was fighting with a soul- eater." They looked at each other, trying to make sense of the concept of battling one of those hideous creatures, while standing in the middle of Washington D.C. "This is going to take some getting used to," admitted Mulder. Scully used her key to open the outer door, and when they got upstairs, the door to Mulder's apartment. Once inside she put the bundles down on the floor out of the way. He hung his jacket on the coat rack, then took hers and did the same. Then he hobbled into the living room, fed his fish and tapped on his computer to check his e-mail. "Mulder, what are you doing?" Scully stared at him. "I - I'm sorry, Scully. What? I'd carry you over the threshold, but in my weakened condition -" "I don't mean that. How can you do that? How can you just go around doing what you normally do when you get home?" The tone of her voice was strained, the pitch high. He crossed to her, caressed her cheek with his hand, and motioned her over to the couch. His expression was a mixture of sympathy and amusement. "Sit down, Dana. Tell me what's bothering you." "After all that's happened, how can you act so...normal? Things happened to us that have never happened to anyone else! Ever! There's a whole other world out there, and twenty four hours ago, we were in it! How can you just come in and feed your fish?" She felt the sense of disorientation, of strangeness, threatening to overwhelm her. Her eyes filled with tears as she stared up at him. He shrugged helplessly, it was hard for him to explain. Now that he was back in his apartment, he just found himself doing the things he was accustomed to doing in these surroundings. "I always feed them on Wednesdays. What would you like me to do, Scully?" "I don't know. Something - I don't know." She was trembling now, a single tear dripping down her right cheek. "It's all right, love," He smiled tenderly, reaching out to wipe away the tear, then gathered her close. "It's a lot of changes to absorb all at once. I can understand how you feel." He held and rocked her, letting his understanding flow through their life- bond until he felt her start to relax a few minutes later. "Better now?" he asked gently. She nodded. "Sorry." "You don't have to apologize." He assured her lovingly. "Mulder, if you trot out that nauseating line from "Love Story" about love meaning never having to say you're sorry, so help me, I'll sprain your good knee," Scully said grumpily, then sighed. "I am sorry, though. I don't usually become a basket case. Why are you dealing with it so well?" Mulder laughed. "Is that an implied insult, Scully? Like, why isn't Spooky being spooky? I've been wondering about that myself. I don't know. Maybe it's because the abnormal seems more normal and less threatening to me than it does to you. I'm used to living with the idea that there are strange things out there." "There's strange, and then there's what we've been through, which is way, way beyond strange," she reminded him. "Yeah, I know," he responded. "Beats me. It's not often I get yelled at for being normal. Maybe it's something in the bond that won't let us both be crazy at the same time." He smiled at her and gently smoothed her hair. "Are you staying?' he asked quietly. "Yeah, I'm staying." "It's up to you. Only if you want to, if you feel ready." //I love you.// //I know, I love you, too, but you don't have to stay to prove it.// Scully looked into his eyes as she brought her lips to his. She kissed him tentatively at first, as if he were new to her instead of the man who had been her lover for months. Her hands lightly traced his face, his hair, his neck. Mulder sat very still, his arms around her. Gradually her lips became hungrier, demanding and receiving more of a response. His hands twined in her hair, his mouth covering hers until he wrenched it away to nibble on her neck. Scully's hands were in constant motion, now flying to his sweater and under to trace his ribs, to feel the skin of his chest. "I wish I could sweep you off your feet and carry you into my bedroom," he murmured. "But in my weakened condition..." His eyes twinkled. Scully's hands never stopped their exploration. She smiled. "Apparently not all that weakened..." - - - - - "Mom?" Dana tried hard not to let her voice shake. "Dana, hi! You don't generally call on a Thursday, especially not at this time of the morning. Is everything all right? You're not sick, are you?" Mrs. Scully's voice deepened with concern. "No, Mom, everything's fine. What's new?" Scully's hands trembled as she listened to her mother babble on about Melissa's new boyfriend and the latest adventures of her brother's kids and all the other things that she usually only half-listened to while entering a report into her PC. Today, Scully listened to her mother's rich voice, picturing her in the cozy kitchen of her house. "Look, Mom. What are your plans for this weekend? I was wondering if Mulder and I could come up for the weekend, if there's nothing going on at work and you're not busy." "Of course, dear, you know you're both always welcome." Her mother's voice took on a cagy tone. "One or two?" Dana chuckled. Her mother's usual question. "One, Mom." Not her usual response. "Oh! Oh, okay, I'll see you late Friday night, then, all right? Bye, Dana, I love you." Dana could almost see her mother's smile through the phone. "Love you too, Mom. Bye." Scully laughed out loud. She had to hand it to her mother. She had really tried to play it cool, but there was just no hiding the delight in her voice. She wandered back out to join Mulder in the kitchen. "How's your mom?" he inquired. "Fine. I think I scared her, calling on a weekday morning." "Is it okay for this weekend?" Mulder looked up from buttering toast to meet her eyes. "Yeah, fine," she replied, sitting down at the table. "Does she know...uh, is it going to present a problem that..." He couldn't hide the anxiety in his voice or his mind. "She's thrilled!" Dana grinned. "You have no idea how long she's been making my life miserable. Every time we'd visit, she would always call ahead of time and ask me if she should prepare one room or two, becoming increasingly disappointed every time I said 'Two.' I think I just made her day." Mulder smiled with open relief. "Good, I'm glad she approves. Your mom means a lot to me, and I wouldn't want her to think I was corrupting her baby girl. So what are our plans now?" A slow smile spread over Scully's face. "It occurs to me that I still haven't had that long-overdue shower," she said provocatively. Mulder dropped the toast he had been munching on, and reached for his crutches. "Who's corrupting whom?" - - - - - After a long, and very pleasant interlude in the shower, they got dressed and drove over to Scully's apartment. She was grateful Mulder was with her when she went inside, for stepping back into the apartment which looked exactly as she had left it brought another rush of tears to her eyes. The same pile of dirty clothes was sitting in the same basket by the bathroom door, the same pile of bills sat on the living room table, right next to the novel she'd been reading. She felt simultaneously like she'd been gone forever and hadn't been gone at all. Mulder caught the edges of her emotions and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "You okay?" he asked. "Yeah, I'm fine," she lied, taking a deep breath. Mulder knew she wasn't feeling 'fine' but he also knew this was something he was going to have to let her deal with it her own way. "Why don't you go ahead and unpack," he suggested, "while I borrow your phone." "Who are you calling?" she questioned, picking up her suitcase and walking towards her bedroom. "The nearest beauty salon." At her arched eyebrow, he smiled and fingered his hair. "Want to try to explain THIS to Skinner?" he asked. - - - - - "Why do I always feel like I'm Daniel, stepping into the lion's den?" asked Mulder softly, his hand on the doorknob to Skinner's office. "You ready?" Dana nodded and took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing." He opened the door and let her precede him, encumbered as he was by the crutches. They took their accustomed seats in front of the desk. Skinner looked at them - and looked again. "Have you two taken some vacation time lately? You look different, like you've been working out in the outdoors and gotten a tan. Did you ski while you were up in New England or something? Is that how Mulder hurt his knee?" Skinner's eyes narrowed, trying to pin down exactly what it was about them that appeared so damn different. They were dressed as usual, Scully in a neat red suit, Mulder in a well-tailored blue suit, disgraced by one of his horrendous ties. Scully's bright hair was bound professionally in a neat knot, Mulder's was sheared to bureau-standard length; and their expressions were calm. Other than the apparent suntanning of their skin, there was nothing he could put his finger on, and yet he knew instinctively, that SOMETHING was different about them. "No, sir," Scully said blandly, eyes guileless, just as she had practiced. "The only day we took off was yesterday, and we called in per protocol." "I only ask because Colonel Frost, the head of the Recovery Team from Hanscom Air Force Base in Bedford, Massachusetts, spent a day and a half up at that lab at MIT and never once saw you." Skinner's gaze was piercing. "We were pursuing various lines of inquiry, sir. We did speak extensively with Professor Neumann," responded Mulder. "Yes, I know, he mentioned it." "Have you been checking up on us, sir?" demanded Scully, nettled. Skinner gave them a long look. "I had a question about something on Tuesday. I was trying to get ahold of Mulder to get an answer, and couldn't. In view of the fact that Mulder has a habit of disappearing from time to time on projects that have little to do with his assignments, I think I was justified in being concerned, Agent Scully." "It's all in the report, sir," Mulder said, passing him the file. "I believe we spent much of Tuesday at the Chi Phi fraternity house, tracking down the group of pranksters that perpetrated this little stunt." The report was a masterpiece of distraction and subterfuge and half-truths that had taken them hours to put together the previous afternoon. Skinner skimmed through the report, then closed it and gave them a fishy stare. "So it's your opinion that this whole thing was a student prank then?" "Not opinion, sir," stated Scully. "It's borne out by the facts as we have presented them in the report." "So I see," said Skinner, sounding rather dubious. "Is there anything else, sir? Anything new come up while we were away?" asked Mulder. Skinner looked at him, still at a loss to explain the change in the agent's appearance. Perhaps it was the way he held himself - but was he more relaxed, or more tensed, or even more confident? Unable to identify the difference, Skinner forced himself to concentrate on the discussion. "No, Agent Mulder. I sent back a couple of reports to your office that need some more exposition. Other than that, I don't have anything for you right now." He paused, appearing that he wanted to say something, or ask something. Instead, he said, "All right, you may go" and pressed his lips together in a disapproving line. They were almost out of the room when he said "Agent Scully?" The two of them froze, and slowly turned around. "Agent Scully, have you lost some weight or something?" Skinner looked so puzzled that she was hard-pressed not to laugh. "Yes, sir, a few pounds. Thanks for noticing!" They turned and fled before Skinner could think of any more questions. Leaning back in his chair, the Assistant Director stared at the closed door for a few long moments. He had little doubt that he had just been lied to, but their story matched the official reports from the military recovery team. Nonetheless, he knew those two agents well enough to know that something had happened - something they obviously weren't willing to talk about. That fact, in and of itself, was enough to make him worried. It was far more Mulder's style to shout the 'truth' from the rooftops, the more bizarre the better. If MULDER unwilling to report it...Skinner sighed and, removing his glasses, rubbed his eyes...then he was quite certain he was better off not knowing. Not that he wouldn't keep a close eye on those two agents. But then again, he always did. - - - - - Entering their basement office, Scully tossed her coat and briefcase onto her chair and turned to face Mulder as he plopped himself down in his chair, leaning back to place his feet on the corner of the desk. "Do you think Skinner believed us?" she asked, pushing his feet aside to give herself space to perch on the edge of the desk. "No." Mulder said bluntly. "But he HAS to accept our report. It matches the official story, and there's hardly anything objectionable in it." They both grinned with amusement, it had been - deliberately - the most 'ordinary' field report they had ever written. "I wonder what he would have said if we'd tried to tell him the truth?" Mulder spoke pensively. For all the pleasure he usually got out of being outrageous, this time he felt the need to keep their unusual experiences private, if only to protect their life-bond - and the friends they had left behind. "He'd probably have had us both thrown into a rubber room," Scully replied with characteristic practicality. "Yeah," Mulder agreed. "In straight jackets." They shared a moment of silent laughter, then sat quietly. Mulder let his eyes wander around the room, feeling much like he was slipping into an old, but very comfortable pair of shoes. Much more than his apartment, this room really felt like home. A smile flirted with the edges of his mouth as he glanced up at his favorite poster, the one of a flying saucer with the big bold slogan, "I want to believe." "What is it?" Scully asked aloud, even as her mind reached out instinctively to brush the edge of his. "I'll miss our friends," he said, his smile widening into an engaging grin. "But it really is good to be home." End Chapter Fifteen ========================================== Epilogue Two months later The late spring heat wave and the boats on the Charles were just two of the changes they noticed in their drive from the airport to the MIT campus. But the stark, utilitarian complex where Neumann's lab was located looked no different than when they had last seen it two months earlier. Mulder took the steps two at a time, waiting impatiently for Scully to catch up. //I'm coming. You really don't have to run, you know.// //I know, I'm just anxious to find out what's going on.// They found the prep room door without difficulty, and Dr. Mather answered their knock immediately. No need for ID's this time, they solemnly exchanged handshakes and went into the lab, closing the door behind them. "When was the last time you saw him?" asked Scully sympathetically. Dr. Mather smiled. "The day before he left. He preferred to have no one here when he went so he programmed the equipment in advance." Mulder and Scully exchanged long looks, and then he turned to Dr. Mather. "The FBI was notified by the authorities at here at MIT that Professor Neumann had disappeared, and that it was possible that foul play was involved. Are you saying that that isn't the case?" "That's exactly what I am saying, Mr. Mulder. When was the last time you heard from him?" Mulder thought. Ever since he and Scully had returned from the Realm, they had communicated regularly with Professor Neumann. He frequently asked questions about the people and places of the Realm, and they would regale him with stories of their experiences, or painstakingly explain various facets of the culture. They had even provided him with crude maps, and diagrams of the castle and the layout of their room. The Professor was always eager and grateful for the information, and it was very cathartic for Mulder and Scully to be able to talk about the place they still missed so much with someone who was interested, understanding, and who didn't think they were crazy. "We exchanged e-mail about a week ago, and we spoke on the phone three or four days ago. Why?" "He went through to the Realm, didn't he, Dr. Mather?" Scully said it quietly but with a sureness that Mulder had never known to be misplaced. She nodded. "About a month ago he found the 'directional factor' he had been looking for. Well, he can probably tell you better than I." She handed Mulder an envelope and went out to the prep room, closing the door behind her. Mulder turned the letter over in his hand. It was addressed to him and Scully in Neumann's tight scrawl. Exchanging concerned glances with her, he tore open the seal, pulled out the letter and began to read: Dear Mr. Mulder and Dr. Scully, "I've left instructions with Karen to give you this after I've left. I'm sorry I couldn't share my plan with you. I don't think I finally decided to do it until a couple of days ago, and then I was afraid you'd try to talk me out of it. The directional factor is a reality - on paper. There's no way to test it without sending a human through the Vortex. Ever since I first saw Tarnor, I've been obsessed by the prospect of visiting the place where such a creature could come from. I can't describe how envious I was of you both when you returned from your adventures in the Realm. And in a few moments, I shall begin my own adventure. I have kept my word. All possible safeguards have been built into the system. An aside that you may find interesting, even comforting - some of my experiments have shown time to be fluid (actually, 'gel' might be a more accurate expression). Based on this, I believe that the time factor you experienced, of thirty six realworld hours to approximately one Realm year, almost surely is not a constant. Thus, in spite of the passage of time since your return, it is my belief that I will find your friends much as you left them. I wish there had been another way to do this without attracting the suspicions of some of the groups we would just as soon avoid. When you receive this, Karen will begin to construct a very elaborate paper trail which should allay the fears for my wellbeing and any questions as to my whereabouts for several weeks to come. She has also been instructed to provide you with whatever documentation you need for your reports. I'm bringing some gifts from our world, carefully chosen to avoid contaminating their culture. When I return, we shall get together and I'll bring you news of your friends. I shall give your love to Jourdain and Aldara, to Reinald and Andalor, and of course to Tarnor and Corvay, and tell them how much you miss them. Wish me luck. Gunther Neumann The End ----------------------------------------------------------------------- -- THE PROPHECY: Long past the years of Poor Harvest When peace has returned to the Realm And the People no longer cry out in Sorrow and Unrest There will be a time of Great Plenty and Calm. Cherish the Grace of the Land, For when the moons have turned ten score and ten, The End will be near to hand; And Darkness awaits for the children. Upon the Land a Dark Shadow will feast Upon the hearts of men a sickness will lie. Mothers will scream in the mouth of a beast. And their children will sicken and die. And the fruit will rot on the branch, And the fields will run red with blood. And the grain will wither upon the stalk. And the waters will rise in a flood. No man shall hold Kingship alone or in part. Divided the Council shall stand. Treachery will turn within a noble heart. And sudden storms will sweep the land Deep within the Great Woods the Beasts will roam. No longer shall innocents call this their home. Yet, even as the Dark takes hold upon the Realm Deep, deep within the great woods, >From that same source the evil floods, The Travellers will come. Travellers who seek the truth. Travellers whose hearts are pure. Travellers whose strength will bind the right. And bring salvation to the light. Mage to mage, the power draws. Blue to Blue, together fight. Brown and Green, the Healer's art is found within a soldier's heart. Mage of Realm and Mage Beyond Join your powers in the night. Woman, born to be a Mage's bond, Soldier, Healer, lead the fight. Night will fall before it's done Shadow grow and death be strong Only when the two are one. Will the Dark be gone. -----------------------------------------------------------------------