

### Over the Hills and Faraway

### Susan Skylark

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Susan Skylark

Revised 2019

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Table of Contents:

For Fear of Little Men

Here There Be Dragons

A Sleeping Beauty

Unimpeded Vision

Truly Rich

Sophie Under the Hill

Swansong

When Pigs Fly

A Lady Unknown

Words, Words, Words

The Reason Why

Forbidden Draught

By Candlelight

And Other Nonsense

Wisdom's Children

Earthbound

Beyond the Distant Hills

Strange the Paths of Fate

If Only

Come What May

Fit to Rule?

Varied Strangers

The Unicorn Hunt

Blood and Water

Wisp

Bad Poetry

Other Books by This Author

Sample Chapters

' _Tom, he was a piper's son,_

He learnt to play when he was young,

And all the tune that he could play

Was 'Over the hills and far away.''

~Nursery Rhyme~

' _Over the hills and far away,'_

thither lies the land of Fey,

Of wandering brook and woodland glade,

Golden meads and dappled shade.

Where evening star is guide and stay

And in the vales, mist doth play.

Dryad, pixie, gnome dwell there,

Griffons lurk and dragons lair.

Songs of old live on there still,

Legend treads on plain and hill.

Beasts that talk and trees that sing,

The poor be rich, a peasant King.

If that land, you would gain,

Take a child in your train,

Let him lead you by the hand,

And you will reach that far, fair land.

~Over the Hills and Far Away~

This is a book of contrasts, a stewpot wherein anything and everything might lurk with each spoonful a different taste: high adventure and complete nonsense, serious quests and silly meanderings, real poetry and doggerel verse, one moment grave as death and blithe as a lark the next. As in life, the world of story, and Faerie in particular, is a varicolored, ever shifting landscape of joy and sorrow, laughter and tears, adventure and quietude. Each story is preceded by a bit of verse or a quotation that may or may not be relevant, many of them are inspired by old nursery rhymes as one wonders what came of the original tale beyond the little passed down from time immemorial to the wondering hearts of children through the ages. Life is a story and with these bits and pieces of story, this crazy quilt of whimsy as it were, perhaps it will add a little more wonder to your own.

Up the airy mountains,

Down the rushy glen,

We daren't go a-hunting

For fear of little men;

Wee folk, good folk,

Trooping all together;

Green jacket, red cap,

And white owl's feather!

~William Allingham, 'The Fairies'~

For Fear of Little Men

Beatrice was missing, and none were fain to seek her, save her little brother, Tibbin, but could a mere child go where grown men feared to tread? Perhaps only a little child could. She had strayed up into the hills after her father's missing sheep and none had seen her for a full three days. No one ventured into those hills, for they were haunted by all manner of folk, strange and fey, and it was folly for mortals to tread thereupon. No, the girl was lost, spirited away or bewitched by some fell being, never more to be seen by mortal men under sun and star, at least not in any natural form; her family might as well accept the truth, embrace their loss, and move on with their lives, or so whispered the villagefolk. But Tibbin was not content to lose his sister thus, but loath were his parents to part with their remaining child, so did he make for those forbidden hills without their knowing or leave, save for a brief note of farewell, imparting his fate. Aghast, his parents asked of their friends and neighbors if any were willing to go after. They merely shook their heads and muttered darkly amongst themselves, who would risk their lives when the boy willingly chose his doom? It was not to be helped. The aggrieved couple went home to wait, perhaps vainly, for news of what had come of their children.

Tibbin was a child but he was not a fool, he was young but also sensible. His elders all feared the fairyfolk, mostly because they did not understand them, albeit they had little interaction with that mysterious kindred and only a few old tales, likely flawed, to rely upon for information pertaining thereunto, but they were also small-minded and superstitious, little liking anything outside their ken, which was pretty much anything and everything outside the confines of their secluded village. Tibbin was still young enough to be untainted by their blindness and prejudice; for his were the wide, unguarded eyes of childhood that saw things as they were rather than as the viewer thought them to be. He was a little leery of the fey folk, as all creatures are of the unknown, but he was not paralyzed or handicapped by unmerited terror as his elders were. Thus did he hie himself into those mysterious hills, the only hope for his sister. He took with him enough bread, cheese, and water to last him a week of hard scrabbling over rocky ground, hoping it would be enough. He took no weapons, save a little knife, which was tool rather than implement of death. With his meager rations and a stout, faithful heart did he set out upon his quest, great and daring.

He left at twilight when his parents thought him abed, creeping carefully out of the house and into the brushy waste behind, clambering over stones and thorny scrub by the light of a slivered moon and a few bright stars. He went as far as he could in the wan light, at least far enough that pursuit would not follow, and then laid himself down under a gorse bush to find what rest he could. An impertinent bird started trilling in said bush at an unearthly hour, wakening the stiff, cold hero into a misty world of gold and rose. He smiled despite his discomfort and drank in the beauty about him, like a connoisseur a rare and delicate wine. He stretched, breakfasted, and was soon off into the mysterious, otherworldliness of dawn, feeling that his adventure was well and truly begun. His sister surely waited around the next bend in the path or just over the hill. He whistled as airily as the bird as he set forth.

His sister was not over the next hill, but a short, stocky man with a prodigious beard sat upon a stone in the thinning mist, smoking his pipe. Asked the boy of the stoic figure, "have you perchance seen or heard of a young girl roaming these hills within the last sevennight, good sir?"

The dwarfish gentleman smiled broadly at the lad's boldness, withdrew his pipe, and exhaled thoughtfully, "aye lad, aye. Not a rabbit goes through these hills without my knowing it. How is it you have the courage to come when none of your elders would bestir themselves?"

Said the boy with a shrug, "none would come, so there was only me. Please sir, have you seen my sister?"

The man nodded sagely, "she's taken up with a few of the pixies that haunt meadow and lea, dangerous consorts for a mortal lass."

The boy paled, "have they harmed her or is she in great peril?"

The dwarf laughed, "aye and nay, lad, aye and nay! Those fairies are as feckless and giddy as any lass your sister's age, but they never grow up nor wiser, and neither do they age nor die. They will not hurt a mayfly or aught else, but rather delight in all that is pretty and ephemeral: flowers, butterflies, robin's eggs, and the like. They have no use or comprehension of the greater, eternal things but are like a brook's laugh or a dancing little wind in their seriousness and wisdom. The danger lies in the fact that Time and Death mean nothing to them. Your sister, if she is not careful, may get so caught up in their whimsical nonsense that she forgets such things herself and by the time she remembers them, may find herself a very old lady with naught of life left to her. It is a tricky thing when mortals think to involve themselves in matters beyond their ken and natural sphere. Your kind is made for eternity, but must enter it through the proper door, not try to sneak in the window."

The boy was silent for a long while as he contemplated the little man's words, and finally said, "can I draw her back?"

The man nodded, "aye lad, if she will come, but she may be so entranced with the merriment and giddiness of her companions that she will yearn to stay. If she will not go of her own will, no power on earth or beyond it will move her. Take heed to yourself, that you not find yourself also caught up in things beyond your natural sphere. Someday perhaps, such or rather far greater shall be your lot, but do not be tempted into seizing it ere it is time for only trouble will come of it." The boy heartily thanked the old man and hastened in the direction he was bidden. The dwarf watched after and wondered what would come of the lad and his sister, silently shaking his head at the recklessness and abandon of those silly pixies and the inadvertent havoc it could wreak upon a mortal creature.

Tibbin had not gone far when he spied a rather curious creature crouching in the shade of a great oak. It appeared to be a lad his own age, but his full height would only reach his father's knee; he was light of build, eye, and hair and his ears were slightly tapered. He winked at the staring boy, motioned eagerly for the lad to follow, and vanished into the hedge of roses at the base of the tree. Tibbin took two happy steps after the fairy creature but then froze, his quest was his sister, not to be caught up in a fate like unto hers. He sighed heavily but turned staunchly back upon his original path and intent. The little creature watched after, for a moment a little disappointed, but then some other amusement soon caught his fancy and his lost companion was immediately forgotten.

By the time the sun was on its downward journey, Tibbin had come to the little meadow wherein the dwarf said his sister and her merry companions might be found on occasion. He settled down in a thicket of young birches to await their coming. Neither was the wait to be tedious, dull, or lonely. The world, in itself, was young, spry, pleasant, and full of the wonders of spring, and those hills were haunted by all manner of folk and creature unknown to the children of men, and in this varied parade, Tibbin found endless marvel and interest. Most ignored him, some were openly scornful, but a few asked him to follow in their merry wake, but ever he sat and awaited the coming of Beatrice and her fairy companions. So did he wait for three full days, eating from his scant provisions and refreshing himself in the ever singing brook by which he sat, finally on a night of mist and moon and starlight, five bright figures came laughing and dancing into the water meadow, Beatrice as radiant and blithe as her companions.

Tibbin rose from his place with a joyous shout and for a moment the pixies quivered like frightened birds, but soon they arrayed themselves about him in a merry dance of welcome and curiosity. Beatrice at first did not know him, but as his song joined in their lilting chorus, his beloved voice broke the thrall about her and she joyously left her place in the circle and flew into her brother's arms with tears of unspeakable longing and delight. The piping and cavorting of the fairies increased tenfold at such mirth and delightedly did they share therein, but soon they tired of the newcomer and were rather perplexed and no little troubled by the strange sobbing that now wracked their once gay companion. For nothing did they know of sorrow or death. With a merry call, did they bid Beatrice to flit off with them anew, careless once more, but she smiled sadly, wiped a mysterious moisture from her eyes and cheek, and shook her head adamantly. The pixies shrugged indifferently and capered off into the creeping mist to join the dance of the fireflies, their companion utterly forgotten. Beatrice shook her head ruefully, took Tibbin's hand, and returned to his place amongst the birches. They slept soundly until roused by the zealous chorus of a spring morning. Hand in hand, they left that lovely meadow and turned their steps and hearts longingly towards home.

They met the little man, still sitting on his accustomed stone and smoking his pipe, perhaps as he had done since the first morning of the world. He smiled joyously at them, waved enthusiastically, and then vanished. They shared a mystified smile and continued on their way. They might have slept another night in the bush but knew their parents were mourning their presumed fate and were eager to turn their weeping to joy. So it was that joy came with the morning. Their father stood aback the house, staring morbidly off into the hills, grey in the mist, and thought himself in a delirium when he glimpsed his lost children walking blithely back from the land of things forgotten and unknown. He trumpeted his wonder and joy so loudly that the entire village was roused. His wife came disbelieving from the house, took one look at what had so disquieted her husband, and added her own shriek of pure joy to the cacophony of laughing welcome and wonder.

The grim eyed, fretful villagers gathered round the happy little foursome and muttered darkly about curses, possession, and worse. A few even clutched a kitchen knife, pitchfork, or wood axe in nervous dread. The now grave father stood forth and asked of his disturbed folk, "my children have returned unscathed, why do you not rejoice?"

Said one distrustful old man, "who are you to say they are unscathed? Who knows what terrible curse might have been laid upon them? None venture into those hills and returns unchanged, if they return at all. They are a threat and a danger to us all as long as they remain among us. Send them back or send them away lest evil befall us all, else we will take matters into our own hands."

The man shook his head in grim disgust, but before he could reply to this nonsense, Tibbin took his hand, looked gently into his eyes, and said with a wisdom far beyond his years, "heed him not father, he knows not of what he speaks and no words of yours will change his mind." Unchanged indeed! The man smiled down at this young sage, caught the eyes of all his dear ones, and then looked once more upon those mysterious hills.

A brilliant flicker of gold and white upon a far hill, like a distant star, filled all his vision and called bewitchingly to his very soul. Said Tibbin with tremulous, but joyous finality, "come, come away!" He took his father's hand, his mother and sister joined theirs also, and the entire family boldly made for that distant vision, the flummoxed villagers parting before them like water around the bow of a boat. They vanished into those wondrous hills and were seen in that village no more. Many and dark were the rumors of the witchery that had taken an entire family and the grim fate that had undoubtedly befallen them, but I can assure you, they were all of them wrong.
The bridge will only take you halfway there,

to those mysterious lands you long to see.

Through gypsy camps and swirling Arab fair,

and moonlit woods where unicorns run free.

So come and walk awhile with me and share

the twisting trails and wondrous worlds I've known.

But this bridge will only take you halfway there.

The last few steps you have to take alone.

~'The Bridge,' Shel Silverstein~

Here There Be Dragons

'Here There Be Dragons,' read the sign, but no one who was not standing right in front of it and looking directly at it would notice, for it was small, faded with age, and mostly obscured by an exuberant growth of wisteria which was far more attractive and would almost certainly draw one's attention away from the forgotten wooden sign. The girl glanced quickly from side to side, but no one seemed to be paying any particular attention to her, as usual, and then darted into the curious little shop adjacent to the sign. A little bell tinkled overhead as she disturbed the dusty gloom within, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light, wondering what she would find in such an enigmatical place, the proprietor would be a gnome no doubt or perhaps they'd sell her a veritable key to fairyland.

It could have been a bookshop or perhaps an antique store, for the innumerable shelves were lined with old and curious objects and leather-bound tomes beyond count. A grey tabby cat blinked at her like an owl from a shelf far overhead, as if he were the master of the place and all others merely his servants or patrons. She smiled impishly, bobbed a proper curtsy to the true master of the shop, and giggled like an overly amused pixie, only to gasp in surprise as she turned and found the gnome, or rather a man so bent and wrinkled that he could well pass for one. A smile both warm and curious graced his aged face as he said, "well met, lass. How may I be of service to you?"

Immediately at ease with this genial old man, said she, "I saw your sign and had to come in."

"Ah!" said he with a chuckle, "Few are they that ever have eyes to see my humble signage. Pray tell, how is it you are not too busy or preoccupied or important to notice?"

She laughed like mirth itself, "why sir, I am Nobody in Particular and therefore always have time and eyes to see just such curious sights. The world is so full of wonders that a lifetime is not enough to glimpse a fraction of them, yet most people find themselves bored silly if not busy with some task or other or diverted by some electronic device."

"You are a strange lass for this day and age," said the man with a secret smile.

"Quite," said the girl with a sigh, "I have often wondered if I wasn't born in the wrong century."

"Where and when you are born are no mistake lass, whatever your preferences to the contrary," said he with a mysterious smile.

Her eyes narrowed, "how is it you can so boldly proclaim that I am not a mistake, sir? You neither know me nor aught of my life. It isn't as if life is some grand story and each of us are characters, vital to the plot."

"But in that you are happily wrong, lass," said he, his enigmatic smile deepening, "life is a story and you have your own part in it."

"But how can that be?" said she with a sigh, "my life thus far has been so drab and dull and pointless, what kind of a story is that?"

He chuckled, "a proper beginning, me thinks." He motioned towards the books surrounding them, "I take it you are a connoisseur of stories? Perhaps fairytales in particular?"

She cocked her head at him, a curious smile on her face, "perhaps you know me after all, sir. Do not the best of tales begin in an ordinary place and time, nay a setting so dull and familiar the reader might well drop the book in dismay did he not know a surprise waited a few pages over. What then is the plot twist, sir? Show me your dragons, if you will!"

"Dragons indeed," said the man with a laugh, "legend holds that ancient maps were adorned with just such a proscription, though there is little enough evidence of that. It is a catchy phrase regardless, however and one does wonder if the world were not a better place ere it was round."

"I've always wanted to sail a ship right off the edge of the map," said she with dancing eyes.

"Off the map?!" said he with a laugh, "Ah, no lass, this adventure will take you right off the page, out of the very book in which we currently find ourselves and into a library so vast, eternity itself would not be long enough to peruse its contents. Your vision is far too small."

"Well," said she, intrigued, "I am always happy to expand my horizons. Tell me this tale too large to fit properly in a book."

"Aye lass," said he with a smile, "that I will, but you are correct, for that tale is so grand that 'were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.' Now let me see..." he trailed off, mumbling to himself as he fetched a ladder from the shadowy recesses of the little shop and climbed upon it, looking for a certain volume. She and the cat watched him curiously as he rummaged, a strange eagerness growing in her breast. At last he descended, a dusty, dog-eared volume bound in leather with flaking gold leaf, in hand. He flipped it open, pointed to a passage and said, "what do you think of that, lass?"

She squinted at the words for a moment as she tried to read in the dim light but began, aloud, "and the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world—he was thrown down to the earth," she paused, looking up in perplexity at her companion, who only smiled like an imp and urged her to continue reading further on in the passage, whispered she, "therefore, rejoice, O heavens and you who dwell in them! But woe to you, O earth and sea, for the devil has come down to you in great wrath, because he knows that his time is short!"

She looked up from her reading, an unspoken question in her eyes, the old man's smile deepened and his eyes seemed to sparkle in the ambient gloom, "what is it lass? I thought you believed in fairy tales, for that is the grandest one ever told, at least to the knowledge of mortal men."

She smiled ruefully, "I did say that, didn't I? I had just hoped, well, I guess I thought your dragons were maybe, well, not evil, that's all."

"Ah," said he with a laugh, "not quite what I thought you'd take amiss about that particular passage, but what should I expect from a generation weaned on animated tales of varicolored dragons whose main personality trait can be summed up with the word 'fun.' Yet what do the old tales say, those written before zombies and vampires and werewolves became creatures to be emulated and admired? Back in the ancient days when a girl yet dreamed of falling for a Prince rather than the undead."

She smiled at her own shortsightedness, "Sir George rides out to slay the dragon, as does Beowulf. The ancient wyrms were evil embodied: greed, cruelty, and viciousness in corporeal form." She laughed merrily at her own deception, "but it was so romantic to think of dragons as wise, benevolent creatures, impatient to carry a human upon their back for some unfathomable reason."

The man joined her mirth, "for there are so many counted wise among men who are equally zealous to do just that! Professors line up just for the honor of giving piggyback rides to their pupils." They were both lost to the incongruity for some minutes thereafter and unable to maintain either a straight face or a conversation. At last he continued, "now don't get me wrong lass, there is nothing wrong with those sorts of stories, dragons being mythical creatures, can be reimagined in any number of ways and the result can be quite splendid, but it is this modern trend of taking what once was considered evil or bad or wicked and making it over into something else altogether. Since when are the villains now the heroes and vice versa? 'Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter!' Such is sadly the nature of the age, lass."

Said she thoughtfully, "now that you mention it, anything of modern origin seems to get it rather backwards: Dracula was never the hero, but a monstrosity to be destroyed, yet the popular novels now envision vampires as the boyfriend of choice. It is rather strange at that!" She glanced again at the old book and said with a frown, "in this the dragon is called the deceiver of the whole world!" She shook her head adamantly, "but the fairy tales can't be true, not really?"

He smiled slightly and said, "some of them lass, for at their heart, many of the best tales are simply retelling a part of that which has already been told."

She raised an eyebrow, "so there is a dragon in this tale of ours, have we not a hero to slay such a beast? If this is a proper tale, as you insist."

"Oh, there's a hero alright," said he with a grin, "a right and proper hero, with an ancient lineage and prophets foretelling his coming from the very foundations of the world, but first let us look at another old legend. We've met the dragon, enter the unicorn." He picked up another book, a relatively new production with colorful pages of various famous art pieces meant to be displayed prominently and consumed at leisure, warm beverage in hand.

She eyed him speculatively as he presented her with a certain page, said she in delight, "the Unicorn Tapestries!"

"Aye lass," chuckled he, "there is no young girl on the planet that those old weavings do not fail to delight or intrigue. Know you aught of them?"

"Not much," said she thoughtfully, "only that they were discovered some years ago in an old barn wherein they had been used to cover crates or some such and were woven by person or persons unknown many hundreds of years ago. I know the meaning behind them is much debated, especially in academic circles."

"Exactly," chuckled the old man, "a perfect example of 'your great learning has driven you mad,' as it were. Only in modern universities can you find folk so learned they can look at the obvious and come up with a theory so outlandish it makes the strangest fairytale look sane by comparison."

"I love the depiction of the unicorn in the garden, but the betrayal and murder of the poor creature are so sad," said she quietly.

"Can you think of any tale equally tragic?" asked he. She looked a question at him, knowing he would not leave her guessing long, and he did not disappoint, continued he, "the tale that inspired these tapestries, at least as one now quite unpopular theory goes, is the very answer to our dragon and it truly happened, right here, in our very own tale."

She looked again at the majestic creature resting quietly in the garden, triumphant over death itself, sighed she, "if only it could be true!" Suddenly her mouth quirked in an ironic smile as she quoted,

' _the lion and the unicorn were fighting for the crown,_

the lion beat the unicorn all around the town.

Some gave them white bread, some gave them brown,

_some gave them plum cake and drummed them out of town._ '

"Is it not so, sir?"

The ancient gnome chuckled appreciatively at her playful wit, but said quite seriously, "nay lass, it is nothing of the sort. This is no fight for the crown of a mortal Kingdom but rather a war that spans all of space and time and the realms beyond, involving every soul in and beyond creation with eternal repercussions to all. The good news is that the Unicorn has already won, hence the Dragon's wrath. The bad news is, we are living in the very midst of that war and that old serpent, full of wrath and fury, is prowling about even as we speak."

"What is to be done?" asked she in trepidation.

He smiled grimly, "take up your sword and join the fight."

Deep the silence 'round us spreading

all through the night.

Dark the path that we are treading

all through the night.

Still the coming day discerning

by the hope within us burning.

To the dawn our footsteps turning

all through the night.

Star of faith the dark adorning

all through the night.

Leads us fearless t'wards the morning

all through the night.

Though our hearts be wrapt in sorrow,

from the hope of dawn we borrow

promise of a glad tomorrow

_all through the night_.

~'All Through the Night,' Traditional Lullaby~

A Sleeping Beauty: The Rest of the Story

"Wake up, you sluggard!" rang a strident voice at an hour at which even the earliest bird in the entire history of avian things had never considered waking. Prince Bryant blinked blearily awake and flinched to see a slight, spritely woman with a very impatient and quite determined look upon her face crouching beside his bed, washbasin in hand, but as she saw him stir, she relaxed significantly and sighed in relief, "ah, that's better then." She set the basin aside, still full of water, and addressed his groggy Highness, "do you want to rescue a Princess, Sire?" He blinked noncommittally at her, more out of bafflement than out of any reluctance on his part; that's what Princes did, in those days at least. Seeing his perplexity, she plunged onward, "I am sure you have heard of the tragedy that has befallen the only child of the King of the neighboring realm?"

The boy nodded, coming more awake by the moment, who had not heard the tale? Had not every noble hearted lad who had heard the girl's plight plotted how he might rescue the ensorcelled Princess? There was only the rather insignificant matter of the Hedge, as it had come to be called, the great thorny expanse of black roses, stinking of death, that had grown up around the palace wherein slept the enchanted maiden; it bore thorns long and sharp as daggers, the merest scratch of which would render the unfortunate hero as insensate as the Princess he intended to rescue, already a half dozen Princes, heroes, and noble sons of Bryant's acquaintance slept ignominiously beneath the world's unruliest hedgerow. There was no way to break through the Hedge and disenchant the Princess, along with all the castle's inhabitants and her would be rescuers. Only the King and Queen had escaped, now bereft of their Kingdom and daughter, they were forced to wander the world as royal refugees, telling their grievous tale in any and every land that offered them succor, hoping someone, somewhere might break the spell.

It had begun, once upon a time, as all the great tales must, but not so long ago at that. The Queen had given up hope of ever having a child, but amidst her deepest grief, the unthinkable happened and a little girl was born. In an ecstasy of joy, the Kingdom celebrated as never before, even inviting the local fairies to partake in the festivities, a thing unheard of in the histories of mortal men, for who dared meddle in things so far beyond our ken? But meddle they did and at first, it seemed the blessings far surpassed the risks, for each merry lass of fairykind gifted the child with some wondrous trait or charm in her turn, but alas, came the Bane. Either out of oversight or intentionally, for none knew of a certain, this particular fairy had not received an invitation to the party of the century, and as her name suggests, she was neither of a genial nor forgiving nature.

The doors at the far end of the ballroom flew open of themselves, the candles guttered in the ensuing wind, and the enraged fairy burst upon the unwitting assemblage like a sudden storm on a fair summer's day. She pushed aside one of her goody-goody cousins, the last waiting to bequeath her gift to the child, and stared down at the infant in her cradle and then glared at the King and Queen on their thrones, said she in tones dark and cruel, "and here then is my gift upon this auspicious day. This child will grow into the fairest and sweetest of maidens, but at the peak of her beauty and charm, she will prick her finger upon a spindle and die." The assembled company drew a collective gasp of horror, as the wind gusted anew as the Bane vanished, extinguishing every candle in the cavernous room and plunging them all into impenetrable darkness, but a faint light flickered forth, a wan hope on the verge of utter night.

The sole remaining fairy, from whence the radiance came, took the hands of the distraught parents and said gently, "I cannot entirely undo that which my cousin has wrought, her magicks are far too strong, but perhaps I can mitigate the grief which she intends. Let death not have its due, but rather, let the maid sleep until a Prince worthy of her hand comes forth to break the spell, but woe to those who unworthily attempt to break the spell, in search of renown alone." The King was about to speak his thanks and relief, but she vanished in a flash of light, momentarily staying his tongue, and as the light receded, the candles again flickered happily in their sconces as if the dreadful interlude had never happened.

The girl grew and blossomed, as the Bane had foretold, her parents taking solace in the last fairy's gift, but hoping to forestall fate, an exercise in futility to be sure, but the King felt he must do something or go mad, thus did he summarily outlaw the use or ownership of spinning wheels in his Kingdom, upon pain of death. But one cannot thwart destiny, no matter how hard one tries, at least such is impossible among mortal men. So it was that such a device was found by the curious girl as she explored some forgotten tower of the castle whilst her parents were away, whether an innocent accident or some machination of the Bane's, this history does not record, but she fell immediately into a wakeless sleep. A little wren, perched upon the windowsill of the room, high atop one of the towers, in which the tragic scene unfolded, cocked its head and fluttered to the side of the prone figure.

It was no wren, but the diminutive little fairy that had spared the Princess' life while she was yet in her cradle. She bore the girl to her room, saw that she was comfortably interred, and then betook herself out of the castle, leaving its occupants none the wiser that anything untoward had happened. As she exited the gates, all the folk within fell immediately asleep at their posts, senselessly awaiting the day of their mistress' waking, even as a great and terrible hedge suddenly grew up around the walls and towers to ward the sleepers against ill-intentioned intruders. Just then, the King and Queen returned, only to find that the dire prophecy had found fulfillment at last, utterly grieved but hopeful that there would be a day when their daughter would again laugh and sing under sun and star, the royal couple turned their weary steps towards the nearest neighboring realm, in hopes of finding a hero therein who could restore all their joy.

They had found heroes aplenty, but none who had ventured into the Hedge ever returned, only those who went thither but never attempted to discover its secrets came back to tell the tale. Thus did the matter stand when the same audacious fairy stood in Prince Bryant's bedchamber at that outrageous hour, threatening to douse him if he did not waken as promptly as she thought he ought. Said he with a great yawn, but with eagerness strong in his voice, "what then must I do, madam?"

"Do?" said she, cocking her head quizzically as if she were a bird eyeing something rather curious indeed, giggling like a little girl, she continued, "you can do nothing, sir!"

He frowned at her, "then why invade my chambers and wake me up at such an hour?"

"But it was quite necessary if we are to disenchant the Princess," said she in sudden agitation. The boy sighed in perplexity and frustration as she suddenly smiled in comprehension, "ah, you mean what is to be done! For this matter is quite beyond your skill to manage, but if you will trust me, you are vital to its success."

He gaped at her, "I cannot do anything on my own to rectify this matter, but can have a part in its success if I will but do as you ask?"

"Exactly!" said she.

The boy shook his head, "but we Princes like to accomplish things with our own might and valor."

"Yes, yes," said the fairy impatiently, "you want all the glory and renown, etc., but that cannot be so in this case. In fact, your sole responsibility and task is to die."

"What?!" squawked the flabbergasted Prince.

"Hush," said the fairy, "do you want to alert someone to our plot?"

Said the Prince stonily, "I do not mind risking death for some valiant cause, say fighting a dragon or slaying a troll, but just to lie down and die without struggle or fuss?"

"Precisely," said the fairy eagerly, "it is the only way to break this particular curse. It requires someone willing to lose everything, including life itself, for the sake of another."

"That's ridiculous!" said the Prince.

"No," said the fairy, "it is Love and that is what it will take to save the Princess. Can you do it?"

He sat thoughtfully for a few moments, and then said sadly to the fairy, "it must be so? There is no other way?" She shook her head gravely and he sighed heavily, then asked hopefully, "but this will waken the lady?"

Said she quietly, "there are no guarantees that you will succeed, but it is the only way to break the spell and must be attempted if there is to be any hope of waking the Princess. You cannot defeat a dragon if you never face him, but even in fighting him, you are not guaranteed the victory."

The boy smiled ruefully, "and what you ask, I suppose, is no less valiant than facing a dragon, save that none will know what it is I have attempted."

She smiled wistfully, "oh, someone will know, and yes, you must abandon your pride along with all else."

He laughed wryly, "some would rather let the dragon eat them, madam."

Her smile became hope itself, "but you are not one such?" He shook his head and she handed him a small flask, "drink this, it contains a potion that will make you appear dead to all and sundry. Once all your kith and kin think you dead, and have sent you to your final repose with all the necessary pomp, we can set out on our adventure."

He frowned in perplexity, "I thought you said I needed to die in truth for this endeavor to succeed?"

Her voice was grim, "that is yet to come, this little ruse is just so no one wonders what you are up to. My cousin will do all in her power to see that this quest fails, should she hear of it."

The boy smiled eagerly, hefting the flask, "and she won't be watching a dead man." He swallowed the concoction, grimaced at the sour taste, and then all was darkness. There was quite an uproar in the Kingdom when the Crown Prince was found inexplicably dead in his bed, with no sign of poison, illness, or injury; it was a veritable scandal that so valiant a youth could pass from the earth with so little fuss or furor. After the requisite mourning and ceremonies were observed, the boy was interred in the family tombs and left to his eternal repose, or so they thought, but it was not to be, for that impertinent fairy was there to meddle in affairs not her own once more.

She roused the boy from his deathlike slumber and chivied him off the stone bier upon which he lay, resplendent in his funeral attire. He glanced around curiously, not that he could see much in the pitch dark besides the slightly luminescent fairy, wondering how they were to escape the tomb, which was no doubt sealed against grave robbers and the unlikely occurrence of a zombie apocalypse. She simply smiled knowingly at him and held out her hand. He took it and they vanished in a flash of light.

When he could again see, they stood upon a broad expanse of rolling hills, emerald in the spring twilight, stretching endlessly to the horizon in almost every direction, but immediately before him stood a bank of glowing fog, seemingly radiant from within. He looked at the smugly grinning fairy in wonder, "this cannot be what I think it is?!"

She smiled like a knowing cat and asked, "undoubtedly it is. Of all people, I would think you would believe in legends!"

He scuffed his toe in the dirt and said uneasily, "enchanted princesses and dragons are one thing," he looked at the wall of luminescent mist in dismay, "this is something else entirely."

She laughed merrily at his dismay, "what is so disconcerting about this particular legend that you did not find in the least daunting whilst dealing with fairies, enchanted princesses, magic potions, and my offer of imminent and inglorious doom?"

He sighed heavily as he met her dancing eyes, "there is just something uncanny about this particular legend. The 'Far, Distant Hills,' as my grandmother used to call them: the very stuff of legend and something comprehensible to a mortal mind," he glanced uneasily at the glowing brume, "beyond them however, the Mists on the Edge of the World, are something altogether different. No man has ever gone in and come out, or if he has, he was so utterly changed that his former companions knew him not." He shivered, "I am not sure I can do this."

She smiled slightly at him, in that irritating fashion he was starting to know all too well, "you are already dead to all your kith and kin. What yet holds you back? I said this adventure would destroy you utterly, why balk now?"

He smiled wryly, "I suppose I do not mind being destroyed." He shivered as an unconscious chill ran up his spine, "perhaps it is that I do not wish to be changed." He glanced uneasily into that fog, "but whatever comes of me in there, it is not for my own sake that I go. I have already vowed to do what I must to free the maiden, even be it death. But at least I would die as myself. But this?! Who knows what comes of a mortal man within the confines of this otherworldly fog?"

The fairy said quietly, "thence you must go, if you are to free the maid. To succeed, I do not doubt that you will have to give up everything, even your ideas of who you are."

He gaped at her, "my ideas of who I am?" A thoughtful smile grew on his face, "indeed, perhaps that is what stays my feet! I do not so much fear death but rather giving up those cherished dreams of who I think I am, when this fog will no doubt show me who I truly am." He shivered, "and what mortal can think that a pleasant experience? But to know, even as I am known? Wonder of wonders indeed! It may not be pleasant, at least at the first, but it is no terrible thing to know the truth. This will be death indeed, at least for my pride. Fare you well, madam. I go forth in trepidation, but eagerly!" He plunged into the Mists, leaving the fairy alone in the deepening night, whereupon she too vanished upon her own business, leaving that uncanny brume and the hills to their long and silent vigil.

He knew he was in a place where anything might happen, where anything could be; time and space did not exist herein, at least as once he had known them; the physical realities in this place were a law unto themselves. To look at, his surroundings seemed no different than many a misty wood he had explored upon a cool, damp spring morning, but here there would be no warming sun to drive away the veiling mists that swirled about him in their own strange dance to a music he could not hear. A path lay at his feet and he knew he must not stray from it, lest disaster ensue. He did not know exactly what he was looking for, but he knew it lay at the end of the uncanny trail, thus did he set forth.

Occasionally he glimpsed distant shadows in the mist, some moving, some stationary, but he knew they had no part in his particular adventure so traveled onward without paying them any further heed, focused entirely on what lay immediately before him. Suddenly the little fairy was beside him, urging him down a side path, saying, "this way lies the answer! Take this path and free your lady, Sire. Ahead lies only your doom, but this way is easy and the path broad. Come, quickly!"

He frowned at the intrepid creature, but shook his head, somehow knowing the vision was simply an apparition wrought of mist out of his own hopes and fears, said he firmly, "nay madam, I will tread the path that was set me and none other."

The phantasm laughed mockingly and vanished with a cruelly whispered, "it is your doom then, Highness! And she will sleep forever, with no chance of waking, because of your selfishness!"

He shivered, but pressed on as quickly as his feet would carry him, ever watchful for more such traps. He saw his parents, begging and ordering him by turns to come home. His tearful sister pled with him to return to her. Friends coaxed, enemies scoffed, old men told him to be sensible, beautiful girls offered him their eternal companionship and vast riches if he would but forego this senseless quest, but he ignored them all and pressed ever onwards.

It seemed he had been walking for decades, if not centuries, seeing and speaking to no one but the varied phantoms that tempted, taunted, and coaxed him to turn aside from the path, when at last an individual stood before him that was no figment of the mist. Said the Bane rather impatiently, "it is about time you got here, boy! I thought my pathetic little cousin was up to some mischief, but I am rather disappointed that this is the best she could contrive. You?!" She barked a contemptuous laugh, "had she let the wretched girl die as I had originally intended, this whole affair would be utterly forgotten by now, just one more tragedy in the long annals of a world already overflowing with sorrow, but she had to interfere and has made such a muddle of things that many shall suffer for it, far more than I had ever thought to inflict such misery upon. It is quite delicious really and far more satisfying than my original little curse. Now what of you?"

"What of me, madam?" said the boy politely, "I am at an utter loss in this place, as to what I must or should be doing."

"Yes," said she in grim satisfaction, "this is not a place you mortals would feel at home, so I'll tell you what will come of the matter. You can turn around and go home, that would be the wisest and best thing to do, just go home and forget this ever happened, but if you insist on being the hero, I'll give you that chance. The reason my cousin sent you hence is that herein grows a certain flower that is said to drive away even death itself; it is the only way to waken the maiden. But what she probably didn't tell you was that the price to pick that particular flower is willing blood. If you want to pick the pretty flowers to waken your sweetheart, you'll need to spill out your lifeblood on her behalf. I've got a dagger right here, lad, if that's your wish?"

He frowned in consternation at the grim fairy, "how are the flowers to reach the girl if I die here?"

The Bane chuckled darkly, "that is not my problem, boy. Now what of your decision?"

He went to his knees before her and bared his chest, "strike true madam, and I will trust that once the price is paid, somehow all will be well."

She raised her knife with a vile cackle, but suddenly squawked in dismay as a terrible light drove her too to her knees, hiding her face in her hands against the horrid brilliance. As the light subsided, a voice spoke from out of the radiance, "not his blood, but mine!"

"Yours!?" squawked she in dismay and wonder, as she gained her feet, dagger still clutched in her hand.

Bryant blinked in astonishment to see a unicorn standing in the mist, now alight with the stallion's radiance. Said the creature quietly, but firmly as the foundations of the earth, "yes, mine."

"Very well," gasped she in growing eagerness, "what care I? The boy's life is nothing to yours! What a fool bargain, but one I'll happily enact. I'll be famous, a veritable hero amongst villains!" She raised her dagger anew as Bryant lunged to his feet and cried out in protest, but it was too late. There came a great flash of light and then utter darkness. The Bane squawked once more, this time in horror and vexation, before fleeing into the darkling mist as all the world seemed to shake and heave in protest at the tragedy she had wrought. Bryant lay where he had fallen, sobbing as one bereft of all hope, for truly he felt that something dreadful had happened though he could not say exactly what.

The mist gradually began to brighten around him, to the somber grey of a rainy morning, though he had long since cried himself into quiescence. He crept forward on hands and knees, not knowing whither he went or why, only that he could no longer lie still. He recoiled in horror as his hands came away wet with silver blood. He could just make out an unmoving form before him in the mist, and knew the unicorn lay in his own blood an arm's length from where he sat. But suddenly, the form was inert no longer, it lunged to its feet and the mists were again gleaming with the creature's reflected brilliance. He reared and screamed in triumph, pawing the air in very joy.

The unicorn approached the stricken boy and nudged him gently with his great muzzle, "easy lad," said he softly, "I have paid the price, now you must do your part." The boy glanced significantly at the still dripping wound over the creature's heart, said the unicorn quietly, "that is proof the price has been paid. Now what of you?"

The boy shivered, knowing at last the moment he had so long dreaded and yet also somehow yearned for above all else had come, said he quietly as he knelt before the glorious creature, "what would you have of me?"

Said the unicorn solemnly, but with such joy and hope behind his words that the boy wondered that the very stars did not dance in their courses thereat, "I have given everything for your sake, child, and I ask the same of you. Your life and being, your skills and foibles, your triumphs and failures, your hopes and dreams, everything, that I may use them as I must to accomplish what I will."

The boy shivered in dread and wonder, knowing he could give no other answer, but a wholehearted, "yes."

"Very well," said the unicorn, touching the boy first on one shoulder and then on the other with his great horn, intoning joyously, "I knight thee into the Mists. Rise and ride forth upon your first quest, Sir Knight."

The boy stood in utmost wonder, but glancing about, he saw nothing but the swirling mist, save a clump of flowers where once the unicorn's blood had pooled. He knelt and studied the blooms, smiling wryly that they seemed nothing more astonishing or exotic than the lilies-of-the-valley that grew wild in the shady corners of the palace garden, his mother's favorite amongst a host of showy and wondrous flowers therein. He plucked the flowers and knew they would break the curse that yet hung heavy upon the sleeping princess, somewhere, somewhen, faraway beyond this place where time and geography meant nothing. As he stood, he heard a gentle whisper, as of a distant wind, "bring your lady hence within a year of your marriage that I might bless it and your reign. Ware the wicked fairy, for though stricken of her powers and immortality, she is no less dangerous or cunning and will blame you for her ruin. Fare thee well, child!" With an eager shiver, the boy felt himself fading into the whelming mist and suddenly reappearing somewhere else altogether.

He stood on the verge of the Mists, the stars in their silent courses above were as bright and unchanged as they had been the day he vanished therein, but the latter could not be said of himself. Though the world about him, the hills in their endless ranks and the whole expanse of heaven above, were the same and like to be until Time itself ceased, the fairy had spoken truly when she said he must die, perhaps not in a physical sense, but die he had: to himself, to his past shortcomings, to his hopes of the future. What and who he now was, only time would tell, but he was who he had always been meant to be, rather than some shallow vision of who he assumed himself to be. He was not perfect, he would yet fail at times, but his vision of what life was, and was not, of what it should and could be, had changed utterly, and it excited him more than words can say.

A wren, perched in a bush growing precipitously close to the Mists, caught his gaze with one of its bright eyes. Suddenly it was not a bird at all, but the initiator of this whole strange adventure. He smiled keenly at that infuriating smile, which broadened the more at his amusement therewith. She glanced hopefully at the flowers in his hand, piping as brightly as any warbler to his lady in the spring, "you were successful then?"

"Define success?" said the boy with a wry grin.

She laughed merrily, "you have learned something then, my lad! That in itself is a success, for it seems you have at least discovered the frustrating vagueness with which mortal conversation is fraught. And, as you imply with your question, there are many forms of success you might have attained within the Mists, specifically I was speaking of the languishing Princess and the mission attendant thereunto."

The boy proffered the flowers, "I assume these are that which you sent me after." He frowned, "how did you intend to get them to the Princess if I had had to pay the Price myself? Did you know there would be an intercessor?"

She smiled mysteriously at him, "what I did or did not know is no concern of yours my lad, rather let us to the lady that she languish in darkness no longer."

He nodded, but his brow furrowed, "how long has it been?"

"A century," said she, watching him carefully to gauge his reaction, "at least by mortal reckoning."

He smiled wryly, "good thing I was dead to all my folk already. And the Princess' Kingdom?"

The fairy shrugged, "some of the greater lords have happily ruled over their independent little fiefdoms in the absence of a true King while some of the villages have ruled themselves and other little bits have either been abandoned completely or were claimed by the surrounding nations. They'll need a bold and wise King to cobble the nation back together peaceably, but a proper fairytale beginning will go a long way towards reestablishing the Kingdom."

The boy offered her his hand, "shall we be about it then?"

She smiled infuriatingly at him and said, "I thought I was the pushy one?" But she took his hand and the by now familiar brilliance surrounded them, as suddenly they were somewhere else. She gazed upon her handiwork proudly, for the Hedge had grown and thickened over the years until little could be seen of the castle beneath and behind the monstrosity.

Bryant's nose wrinkled as the smell of carrion was brought to him on a vagrant breeze; he eyed the fairy dryly, "could you have picked a less morbid way of protecting the castle and its occupants?"

She laughed like a thousand tinkling bells, taking his hand she led him on a path directly towards the looming Hedge, said she, "could you think of a more effective way to keep people out or warn them away?" She glanced disdainfully at a snoring fellow collapsed beneath the Hedge, "though some apparently wouldn't take the hint. The flowers!" She motioned towards the monstrous shrubbery and Bryant did as she bade him, flourishing the bouquet as if it were a magic wand with which he hoped to banish the very shades of death. And astoundingly, that is exactly what happened.

For a moment, the entire Hedge, every leaf and petal, stood stock-still before each fluttered excitedly in a different direction, as if suddenly assaulted by a thousand vagrant breezes all at once. The stench of death was quickly borne away while the stygian petals assumed the vibrant blue of an autumnal sky. Bryant eyed the fairy in wonder, "blue roses?"

She shook her head in astonishment, "it is none of my doing lad, could I make roses of that color, do you think I'd spend my time helping rescue imperiled princesses? This is a miracle indeed! But come, there's more to this adventure than herblore." She hurried into the palace, the indigo speckled curtains of foliage drawing obligingly aside that they might pass unhindered. She led him to the chamber wherein the Princess lay, for now ignoring all the sleepers that lay in various awkward positions throughout the castle. He thrust the flowers into the fairy's hands as she stopped just inside the door, watching in anticipation as he continued to approach the sleeping maiden.

Glancing significantly over his shoulder at his spry little companion, he said, "this is how you properly waken someone." He drank in the vision of the blissfully sleeping maiden for a moment, and then kissed her fully and deeply. She woke without a start, slowly opening her eyes, smiling brightly, as carefree as a little girl on a sunny morning.

She looked up into the eyes of the Prince as an impish smile lit her face and danced in her eyes, "you'll have some explaining to do sir, and my father is not a patient man when it comes to matters of propriety."

He straightened with a laugh, offering the Princess his hand, said he, "I will take that into account, madam, but first I think we should rouse the rest of the slug-a-beds that call this place home."

"Leave that to me!" beamed the fairy, hefting the flowers as if they were a sword and she a warrior of great renown.

Laughed the Prince as she hastened off, "at least she isn't armed with a washbasin on this occasion." The Princess gave him a questioning look and he told her all the strange tale.

The fairy soon returned and reported that all the castle's inhabitants were up and about once more, immediately resuming their interrupted chores, as if a century had not passed in the interim, however those asleep under the Hedge were not so fortunate, most having been buried in a century's worth of dead leaves and new growth. The gardeners assured her that they'd rescue the beleaguered heroes soon enough, but it might be a day or three before they could all be freed. The Prince laughed merrily, "what an ending to an already inglorious tale! Not only to be so trapped in a feat of valor but then to need rescue at the last by a troop of gardeners!" He glanced at the fairy, "what is to come of these would-be heroes? I doubt they have a home any longer to return to, at least one that would recognize them or easily accept them back into their former positions."

"You'll be needing armsmen, knights, and noble companions, milord," said the fairy with a grin, "they'll likely beg you for such a boon, thus their gratitude and faithfulness is assuredly yours."

He then looked to the Princess, "and how long will it take to plan a wedding, my Lady?"

She glanced eagerly at the wondrous blue roses, a spray of which had climbed up the tower and was peeking in at the window, "with such exquisite flowers, what is there to plan? The roses alone will make every Princess on the continent so extremely jealous that it will be the wedding of the century even were I attired as a goose girl, fresh from the fields."

Invitations were sent to all the nobles and villages that had once comprised the kingdom and to all the neighboring realms; the date was set for the soonest day that the guests could be reasonably expected to arrive in fashionably good time. A quiet ceremony would have well suited the new King, but as the realm had been all but dead for the last century, it was vital that all the Kingdom's former inhabitants and allies see that there was truly a King upon the throne, intent on reviving the forgotten nation. But he need not have worried, for so excited was everyone to hear the full story, and to have their part in a veritable fairy tale, that there was astonishingly little conflict as the nascent Kingdom reestablished itself and reasserted its ancient borders.

One day, after a very positive report on the status of the Kingdom from his various generals, advisors, nobles, and councilors, the King approached his lady and said, "the time has come, milady, for the Kingdom is now stable enough to bear our absence for a time. We must journey into the Mists, ere the year is out."

She sighed heavily, bowed her head sadly, then gazed up into his keen eyes, "it will be as it must, milord, but this journey weighs heavy upon me, for I fear a great tragedy shall yet befall us, and we still so new to our joy."

"We are duty bound to venture thither, my love," said he quietly, "and I do believe it will be an adventure indeed, but perhaps not so grievous as you fear. Come lady, this should be a journey made in hope and joy, not fear and dread. For there is naught to fear in the Mists for those who are bidden thence by the master thereof."

Her countenance brightened and she laughed gaily, "an adventure you say? Very well, let us be about it, for I have done naught but sleep these last hundred years! At last I shall have my own part in this tale."

Preparations were very quickly made and the King and his company set forth with joy in the morning; the entire Kingdom turned out to line the road and wave their farewells and best wishes for their beloved King and Queen upon whatever their strange quest. It was a merry journey, for the weather held fair and the roads were well kept, and joyous was the King to see again those swirling Mists and show them to his darling wife. She had brought along the flowers that had wakened her to live once more in the merry world, for never did they wilt or fade, and dearer were they to her than any heirloom or treasure of great age or value. One morning, as they were just climbing into their saddles, one of the scouts returned at the gallop and informed his Majesty that there was an old woman, haggard and bent, begging along the wayside.

The King swung himself into his saddle and motioned for the scout to lead on, for he meant to see this wretched creature for himself, that he might do what he could to aid her in her plight. The Queen would not be left behind, nor would an ample number of guardsmen, whose captain was quite strict and proper upon such matters. The King drew rein well away from where the woman sat, hunched and miserable beside the road, that he not disturb her with his horse or retinue. He smiled wryly, wondering how it was he had ever managed to walk from one end of the garden to the other without such an entourage to guard his person and see to his every whim. He approached the old woman and knelt beside her, asking what he could do to be of service.

She mumbled something incomprehensible and he leant closer that he might better hear, as he did so, she cackled triumphantly and said loud enough for all to hear, "die as you should have done at the first, Sire!"

He groaned as she plunged a dagger into his heart, the Queen was off her horse and at his side in a moment, cradling his head in her lap while the guardsmen took charge of the enigmatical murderess. He smiled wanly up at his beloved, and said quietly, "ride on to the Mists, my darling and do not waste your tears in vain grief..." He trailed off and lay still, his body fading away like mist in the morning sun.

She gasped in wonder and horror and then glanced up into the questioning eyes of the captain of the guard, said she, "we will continue our journey, captain, but first we will see what the villainess has to say for herself."

The woman was brought forth and hissed at the Queen, "this is all your fault! Had your father not forgotten to invite me to his wretched party or had you never been born, none of this would have happened!"

The Queen gasped, "you are the legendary Bane? You cannot blame me for the consequences of your own actions, madam!"

Scoffed the former fairy, "at least now your pain will equal my own, as I have bereft you of that which you love most, as was done to me for the sake of your thrice cursed husband!"

The Queen shook her head sadly and said stonily to the captain, "see that justice is done, captain, and then catch up with the rest of the party." The man bowed and bore his shrieking captive away as the balance of the Queen's company regained their saddles and took to the road.

As they rode along, one of her ladies said quietly to the Queen, "I beg your pardon Highness, I know it is not my place to question you, but why do we continue this vain journey in light of such a tragedy and why do you seem oblivious to the pain of your loss?"

The young Queen wore an enigmatical smile and a strange joy danced in her eyes, "I do not know Maggie, but it must be done. I should be devastated but I cannot rid myself of this terrible, irrepressible hope, even my husband's last words seemed replete with it. Thus do we ride on, perhaps I'll find my answer at journey's end."

The journey was no longer so overtly merry, but neither was it so solemn or grievous as it otherwise might have been. The Queen's odd mood seemed to afflict them all to some extent, though a few thought that perhaps it was her courage alone that bore them thence. At last, they stood upon the brink of the world, where waited the ever-swirling Mists. She bade her companions wait, and taking her flowers in hand, she stepped into the brume. It was a short and uneventful journey, for she had been bidden thither and so did she arrive without incident. She gasped, dropping her flowers in astonishment, for her husband lay upon a stone bier, his sword clutched upon his breast, like a Knight interred.

She wanted to run to his unmoving side, but rather fell to her knees, tears in her eyes, as a great unicorn interposed himself between them. Said the radiant creature quietly, "he is mine, child."

"Yes," said she, head bowed and tears falling freely from her eyes, "but for a little while you loaned him to me, and for that I will be grateful." She lifted her gaze and looked upon the wound in his side, still dripping silver blood. She bowed her head once more, "and for the price you paid on my behalf." She looked up again, this time into his fathomless eyes, "I offer you my service, such as it is."

He shook his great head and smiled in amusement, "nay child, I do not want your service. I want all of you, everything, or nothing at all."

A slight, eager smile graced her lips, "then let it be unto me as you have spoken."

He glanced over his great shoulder at the inert form of the Knight and asked, "even if I do not restore him to you?"

She bowed her head, "even so, do with me as you will."

He nuzzled her gently, saying, "very well, take up your flowers and rise, oh Lady of the Mists, and waken your Lord." She stood, flowers in hand, and slowly approached the bier, as if fearful it might vanish like dew in the sun. "There is no need of hesitancy or fear, my Lady, go forth boldly and do as I bid thee." She smiled deeply and approached without trepidation, kissing her husband as once he had wakened her.

He smiled up at her and said, "now this is an awakening indeed! Well met, my Lady!"

The Knight swung his legs down from the bier and stood beside his lady for a moment, but as the unicorn approached, they both knelt before him. He touched each with his horn, causing a little thrill of joy to course through their entire beings, before saying solemnly, but with much joy, "I hereby bless your reign, rule long and joyously, as befits true servants of the Mist." When they raised their heads, he was gone. They exchanged a joyous look before they too vanished into the swirling veils of luminous vapor. They appeared on the edge of the Mists, just outside the encampment wherein their company waited, and happily it had not been more than a few hours since the Queen had ventured therein, though twilight had fallen.

Great was the astonishment and joy of all those in the camp to not only see their Queen again, but more so the King at her side, returned from death. They said little of their adventures within the Mists, and their companions knew better than to ask too much or press them too hard, but greatly did they rejoice in the miracle that had been wrought out of so grievous a tragedy, both for the Queen in particular and the Kingdom as a whole. The next morning, they saddled their horses and began the long journey home.

And long and joyously did they reign; their Kingdom was renowned as a bastion of peace, justice, and wisdom for an entire age to come. The years touched them little, for they had ventured outside the bounds of Time, but that did not mean they were content to dwell forever therein. Their grandchildren were of an age to be parents when at last the crown was to pass to another. Taking their chosen heir to the crown, the King and Queen mounted their horses, refusing any other escort, and vanished that day from recorded history. The boy, no older than his grandmother when first she had fallen asleep, accompanied them to the verge of the Mists and all three vanished therein, but only the boy emerged, as utterly changed as his grandfather, so many long years ago. Clutching his grandmother's flowers in his hands, he found his horse, and began the long journey home. A little wren, perched in a bush, watched him ride off with eyes far too keen for any avian thing; with a happy little trill, which might have been a fairy's laugh, it flitted off into the gathering dusk.

Eventually man discovered that the world was round and rather smaller and less interesting than he had once thought; history became more important than legend and only poets and children knew the truth of the matter, but the wren knows the full tale and will gladly tell it to any who have ears to hear. Rule of the Kingdom eventually passed to those who did not believe in fairytales and it became indistinguishable from any other Kingdom of men, eventually passing out of history like all mortal things. The legend was reduced to a mere fairytale and one thought fit only for children, but then they are far wiser in these things than their elders, for they can yet speak the language of violets and swallows and still believe in fairies.

There was an old woman tossed up in a basket,

Seventeen times as high as the moon;

Where she was going I couldn't but ask it,

For in her hand she carried a broom.

' _Old woman, old woman, old woman,' quoth I,_

' _Where are you going to up so high?'_

' _To brush the cobwebs off the sky!'_

' _May I go with you?'_

' _Aye, by and by.'_

~Nursery Rhyme~

Unimpeded Vision

It was dreadful, quite awful really, and what could be done about it? All the expanse of heaven was quite unkempt, a most disastrous state of untidiness abounded therein! Why, one could hardly see the stars for all the dirt and grime and filth that had accumulated over the eons. Who was in charge of dusting the firmament? Whoever the housekeeper was, it seemed she had been discharged long ago and never replaced. It was a disgrace and that was the end of it. But what could one, earthbound mortal do to rectify this startling state of disarray? There was nothing for it but to apply for the position of Housekeeper of the Stars and see what came of the matter. Gertrude went back inside after gaping at the grotesque untidiness of the night sky, determined to do something about it. She put on her best clothes and off she went with such a look on her face that warring armies might well step aside to let her pass.

She was not quite sure to whom to complain about the matter or where to apply for this exalted, though long vacant, position so she went first to the local Lord, to see if he might not have some idea how to rectify the problem. If the local authorities were stymied, she was ready to apply to the King himself. She marched herself up to the front door of the elegant mansion, much to the dismay and chagrin of the servants as this behavior was far from proper, and pounded with such fervency that the butler dared not ignore her summons. Before he could drone out his platitudes and excuses in an excruciating monotone, the bold dame shouldered right past him and stalked into the depths of the house, completely mortifying the servants. She called upstairs and down, she thundered from garret to cellar, and roamed throughout the abode until she found his lordship, still in his dressing gown, blinking blearily at her over a half consumed cup of tea in his sitting room. He gazed at her in silence, not knowing what exactly this apparition was or what it might want, but certain he had never seen such a dreadful creature since the Housekeeper of his youth had passed from mortal striving.

"Dreadful! Absolutely dreadful!" quoth she.

His Lordship blinked and stared uneasily into his teacup, he never had the heart to stand up to the old Housekeeper and this creature might easily be her very twin.

Continued she without pause for breath or mercy, "something must be done! Who can rectify the matter? I'll go myself if I must! But I demand something be done!"

Gulped his lordship, "anything you wish madam, all you need do is ask it!"

She smiled slightly then, took an uninvited seat across from him, helped herself to biscuits and tea, and said smugly, "very good sir, very good. I wish to begin immediately."

His lordship gaped in distress, he had hoped to grant the martinet a boon and send her on her way, instead he feared she had just hired herself on as a member of his staff, if not as his wife! Stuttered he, "what exactly is it you want, madam?"

She turned those steely eyes upon him and he felt himself melting into the overstuffed chair beneath him, said she, "the whole state of matters is most disgraceful and I mean to amend them. I fear the position of Housekeeper has lain vacant far too long and the current state of things is quite dire. I will begin at once."

The chair was not voracious enough to consume his lordship entirely, mores the pity, but at least he was not now betrothed to the creature, but Housekeeper? He had a housekeeper and she was not half so intimidating, but he could not gainsay this dread woman, what was he to do? He mumbled incoherently, "but I do not need another housekeeper madam..."

She scoffed a laugh at him, "what? I do not want to be your housekeeper sir! Really! The nerve to think that I would lower myself to such levels as housekeeping for another man when I have my own tidy cottage so well in hand! Really, sir, you go too far!" The man stared at her in perplexed relief as she brazenly continued, "nay, nay, I will be the Housekeeper of the Stars, not of this measly hermitage! What cheek! What nerve! I tell you sir, I will not stand for it! If my husband were alive..." She rattled on for some minutes and his lordship pitied the poor soul whom he knew without doubt had been henpecked to death by this intimidating biddy. "Now," said she after taking a deep, calming breath, "to whom do I speak about applying for the position?"

Much relieved to have this hurricane in crinolines eager to be on its way, his lordship's nerve gathered itself together and said meekly, "perhaps the King's astronomers will have some notion as to how to rectify the problem." She nodded at him curtly, finished her tea, and vanished as suddenly as she had come. His lordship lay as one in a faint, joyously overwhelmed by his escape.

Gertrude hastened herself to the capital city wherein most of the Royal Functionaries were stationed, but to her dismay and everyone else's relief, she soon discovered that the Royal Astronomers kept their quarters far up a distant mountain, thus to be closer to their subject of interest. She hied herself thither with all the speed only a determined woman can muster and soon reached her quarry, for not even mountains could stand in her way. It was yet to be seen whether the tides would dare stand against this phenomenon, or whether there was anything in heaven or earth that could thwart her will. The Astronomers, thin, wispy haired, wide-eyed creatures all, certainly offered no resistance to whatever it was that she might propose. They knew nothing about said position and certainly did not think the stars obscured by grit and grime of late, but who were they to gainsay such a one?

They stared awkwardly at their feet, nodding and murmuring affirmations when appropriate and when her tirade had come to its end, the head Astronomer said, "madam this is a serious matter, surely. What is it you propose?"

She stared at this insolent mouse with her hawkish eyes and said sternly, "who then oversees the cleaning and maintenance of heaven and earth?"

The astronomers exchanged uneasy mumblings but their leader meekly proclaimed, "such matters are beyond the wisdom of mere men such as we, madam. But perhaps you should betake yourself to the source of the problem and have a closer look upon the matter, and if things are as dire as they now appear, then you will also be in a very good position to set the heavens in order."

"Excellent," said that she-lion of a lady, "a most excellent idea. I will take the matter into my own hands and rectify it immediately. Bring me a broom at once!" She frowned, "but how am I to reach my destination? This mountain is not nearly high enough and I suppose no one has thought to build a staircase or ladder high enough to reach?"

Squeaked one of the apprentices, "Master Tell has been experimenting with balloons, madam, perhaps one of his contraptions will bear you hence?"

She stared at the creature as she might a mouse in her pantry, not comprehending him in the least, but ordered him to introduce her to this Master Tell immediately. Master Tell was sent for and as easily cowed by this bonneted thunderstorm as all the rest of them. His experiments with trapping hot air and sending small baskets aloft were quickly explained and the good dame demanded that he immediately send her into the heavens thus. He tried to explain that he had only succeeded with very small apparatuses thus far and it would be quite dangerous to attempt such a feat with so large an object as herself, but thankfully he never reached this last point in his argument, for she would brook no dissension, for had he said the latter he would not have lived to see his suppositions fulfilled. Instead he squeaked what might have been an "at once madam," and fled the room to make his preparations.

The broom was fetched and the basket and balloon prepared and that determined lady stood upon the summit as the first stars peeped out, ready to ascend into the heavens and challenge the grime therein to mortal combat for its insolence in obscuring the stars. All was ready and she had only to order her minions to release the ropes holding the basket to the earth. But first she put on her spectacles, that she might have an unimpeded view of what was to come. "Oh dear," murmured she in some distress, "this certainly cannot be fathomed! How terrible, how has it come to this? Can such a tidy person as myself truly be in possession of such dirty glasses? Oh me, oh my! You there!" She grabbed the lead astronomer's cravat without so much as a 'by your leave,' and proceeded to wipe her glasses clean. She replaced them on her nose and was quite astounded by the result. "Quite!" said she, and without a further word stepped from the basket, handed back the broom, and sailed home in a state of blithe content. The astronomers and balloon master exchanged a puzzled glance, but were too relieved at her vanishment to fret much about all the trouble she had put them to or to require an explanation of her extraordinary proposal.

Laughed she to herself as she turned in at her own door, "silly me! I forgot to clean my glasses. The stars are quite as tidy as ever, it was my own spectacles that needed the attention. If only that gossiping neighbor of mine does not find out about this..." Her mission accomplished, that good lady turned her attention to more pressing matters, such as the unruly state of the garden adjacent to her own.

Gray goose and gander,

Waft your wings together

And carry the good King's daughter

Over the one strand river.

~Nursery Rhyme~

Truly Rich

They were alike as could be, each as gray and wrinkled as the other, with sparkling eyes of an equally unassuming hue; so long had they been together and so alike had they become with time and shared experience that it was often hard to tell the one from the other, this old man and his ancient dame. It had been the cherished hope of their younger selves, so long ago that even Time itself might have forgotten, to have a cottage filled with the music of young laughter and the fairylike song of many happy children yet this dream had never come to pass and now in their fading years there was no joyous overflowing of love from many grateful hearts to lighten the burden of the ever heavier years. There was still love enough between the aged man and his dear lady to cause bitter envy in the hearts of those with far more money, fame, and power who had not even the merest hint of such fidelity and contentment, who knew nothing of the joys and heartrending sorrows of so many shared years. For though poor in material and temporal considerations, never had there been a couple so rich in the things that truly mattered, the things that would last forever and so were they rich indeed though the dearest prayer of their hearts had not yet been fulfilled, even in this were they content though a grievous sorrow it was.

But this is a fairytale and such love neither goes unnoticed nor unrewarded (though one might argue that it is in itself a fit reward), and neither can such a wish go forever unfulfilled. So it was that a certain man appeared on their doorstep one evening as her ladyship the sun gathered her scarlet cloak about her, took up her candle, and vanished behind the distant hills. He was alone and he came afoot. He was as common a man as one might ever think to find and never could one quite recall his face or clothes though you spent an entire afternoon in his company. So did this unassuming personage ask for a night's shelter and a portion of their meager supper, which they were happy to provide, eager for company as much as wishing to assist him by any possible means. He might be indifferent to look upon, but the couple was well rewarded for their compassion, for he was no common companion. He could weave a tale like few outside the bardic brotherhood and had had a life so full of experience and adventure that there was material aplenty to draw upon. Well content in their company, none thought to retire to bed until well after her ladyship again graced the distant east, swathed in fluffy layers of subtlest rose.

The old couple then retired to their rest and their enigmatic guest bid them a fond farewell, as he was intent on his journey though no sleep had he found that night. For many days thereafter did they recall that evening with delight and joy, savoring the memory as over-particular lords relish their fine viands. But soon an event occurred that drove all consideration of the past from their minds and brought them fully to bear upon the astonishing present. For on a night of tempestuous rain, there came a knocking upon the door and they thought some poor beggar, lost in the storm, lay upon the doorstep hoping for succor from the bitter night. But this was no beggar, but rather a caterwauling basket that howled in equal vehemence with the storm without. Perplexed, the old dame brought the wailing hamper into the snug confines of the cottage and revealed an irate babe, keening like a dozen sodden cats.

And of course, the poor thing was none other than a princess, so imperiled by some unknown enemy that her raising must be done in the most humble and secret of circumstances. Delighted, the elderly pair eagerly accepted the vehement mite into their keeping and so abounded the love and joy in that place, that a wandering angel might be forgiven to think it had strayed into an earthly bit of heaven. The maid grew and so too did her guardians, save that it was ever more gray and wrinkled in their case. Their years by now far exceeded that common to mortal wont, which utterly perplexed them but happy were they to guard and guide this little princess into maidenhood. At last the day of revelation came, as it always must in such tales, and one bright morning found a herald standing at the door in his splendid livery with trumpets blazing and an impressive equipage standing at the ready. The man demanded the immediate return of the long hidden princess, but the couple just sat in their chairs and stared stonily at this far too blatant individual, not liking the feel of him in the least.

Said the old man at last, "she is out tending the geese and who knows the hour of her return?"

The herald accomplished a splendid 'harrumph' and stormed at the elderly pair, who bore his rantings as stoically as a mountain the tempest's fury. At last a dark figure emerged from the splendid carriage and the furious servant melted into trembling silence. So draped in black robes and veils was this personage that none could see his face or grasp the shape of his person, but he stood far taller and broader than any common man and he emanated raw power and evil as a stove gives off heat. So ill-feeling was he that a shadow seemed to drape itself about the little cottage and the garden thereabouts and even the sun seemed uneasy in her shining. Said he in grim and stentorian tones, "give me the girl!"

The ancient pair shook their heads grimly and the man laughed as an avalanche might before it descends ruthlessly upon some innocent and hapless victim. "So be it," said he with careless dismissal. He turned his back on the couple, motioned for his servants to make ready their departure, and flicked a black draped hand derisively at the obstinate pair. The great carriage rattled off, leaving only a pair of overly large and quite flummoxed geese to exchange an astonished look in its wake.

The goose waddled to a corner of the house, and after some minutes of rummaging around awkwardly with the as yet unfamiliar bill, returned to the gander with a long unused basket. He studied the basket for a moment and then set to gabbling eagerly in his honking voice and twitching his tail in excitement. He then wandered out to the shed and after an equal amount of awkward effort, returned with a bit of old twine in his bill. His lady bobbed her head in appreciation and together they painstakingly tied the rope to the basket. Once finished, they patiently awaited the return of the princess. They had no fears that the vile sorcerer would find her first, for how could such a story end so unhappily? Even if the fell wizard found her, there was undoubtedly a prince or a knight or some such just waiting his chance to rescue her. So they made their preparations, as puzzling to an observer as might be, but they knew for some inexplicable reason that this is what must be done. And at last the Princess returned with her charges, who were quite put out to see strangers in their demesne, and not only strangers but huge strangers at that. They hissed and threatened, but a little posturing on the part of the great gander sent the lot of them honking and shrieking in defeat and terror back to their pen.

The princess looked upon the overlarge geese with wonder, but recalling that this was undoubtedly a fairytale, thought no more of the matter and set to studying the prepared basket instead. She shook her head in wonder, she knew exactly what she must do and hoped that some sensible fairy had instilled this particular basket with size altering abilities as well as the waterproofing it had exhibited upon her advent upon the doorstep two decades prior. She sat in the basket, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and was happy to see that her suspicions were correct. The great geese honked their approval as each took up one end of the attached rope in their bills and then took to the air. Happily the basket was also equipped with gravity defying spells for just such an exigency and the Princess was soon borne aloft and well out of the clutches of the evil mage whose carriage was even then returning to the cottage of her girlhood. She laughed for utter joy and journeyed ever deeper into her own fairytale.

They flew onward, ever onward through sunsets and rises, across forest and lake and field, over cities, mountains, and waste. They neither wearied nor required food or water as ever they continued on. At last, after what might have been a year if it were not a day, they came to a great river whose far side they could not see. They settled then upon the bank and held a honking conference in their strange anseriform tongue while the princess waited silently in her extraordinary basket. Suddenly the rumble of carriage wheels and the clatter of hooves overwhelmed the nearly silent river's song. Without another thought, feeling the dire evil encroaching upon them, the pair took again to the air and set out for the far side of the great river. The dark wizard emerged from his carriage and watched them shrink into the distance, his fist raised in silent fury at his vanished quarry, irate that his own curse should be used against him in such a way.

On and on they flew and never did the far shore appear, yet neither did the sun rise or set in this strange world; only stars shimmered overhead in their age old dance but never did the moon raise his face above the boundless waters. At last, exhausted, the pair made to settle upon the water and hoped the magnificent basket had floatation enchantments woven about it as well, but they needn't have worried, for as soon as they began their descent the waters parted and a broad bar of white sand appeared before them, seeming to glow with the reflected light of the stars above. They settled then, the basket coming to rest as gently as a dove lights upon the ground. The Princess emerged from her basket for what might have been the first time in millennia or perhaps minutes, who could tell in this strange land? Whether the bar grew or the newcomers shrank was anyone's guess but suddenly there was land all about them, as far as eye could see and in the east the glimmer of sunrise hinted that they again walked the mortal earth. A bright and shining castle, whose stones might have been uncut diamonds, glittered in the rising light of day and from it emerged a King with his Queen upon his arm.

The geese waggled their tails and bobbed their heads in excited greeting while the Princess dropped a very proper curtsy to these who must unquestioningly be her true parents. So as to defy all storybook requirements, the only thing remarkable about this particular King was that he was quite unremarkable. The feathered couple knew him at once as their uncommonly common companion of twenty years previous and honked excitedly in greeting. The aged couple was soon relieved of their goosish guise even as the shackles of age also dropped from their persons. Joining hands altogether, rejoicing as they went, all entered the sparkling castle and of a certainty they lived happily ever after, except for the mage of course, who was never happy, even in his triumph, for he knew nothing of Love.

There was an old woman

Lived under a hill,

And if she's not gone

She lives there still.

~Nursery Rhyme~

Sophie Under the Hill

Her choice of domicile was peculiar, at least to sensibilities distant in time or space, but for all I know it was a rather common phenomenon in that particular place and time, but even if it were not, it suited her and to her mind that was all that mattered, which was as it should be. For you see, she dwelt under a hill and had for as long as local memory could remember, which might as well have been for all eternity as far as most folk were concerned. So it was that this curious old woman, who was apparently never young, acquired a reputation far and wide for not only being rather mysterious, which is what living in any fashion not considered ordinary will gain you, but also for possessing great wisdom, which is the result of living sensibly and being content therein rather than living as your neighbors think you ought and depending solely upon their opinions for your happiness. So it was that her neighbors held her in great awe and even a little fear, at least if an outsider asked them, but amongst themselves they often whispered darkly about the dear lady, with no little of malice and jealously festering beneath their bitter words. For you see, she minded her neighbors not in the least in any matter, preferring to do solely as it pleased her and seeming to thrive thereby which vexed them greatly, for no one should succeed without their input. It was witchery of the vilest sort.

Such an enigmatic and sagacious person held a certain attraction for adventurous youths and questing knights which was not hindered in the least by darker rumors, for who else could offer desperately needed wisdom and advice as such were often seeking? These frequent and unwelcome visitors, at least as the neighbors saw it, only caused further scandal and disquiet in the community, which continued to heighten the dame's infamy and only drew sooth seekers from even more distant climes. These visits drove the neighbors to distraction but the aged lady welcomed each and every visitor as if he were a lost son come home after many years abroad. Though in truth she was neither a worker of terrible magics nor a possessor of knowledge arcane and grim, but what she did have was something far outside the common ken of mortals, and blessed were those who sought her wisdom and received it with a willing heart. She did not whisper in secret with the shades of ancient sages or count her years more numerous than the usual wont of men. So how was it that this near mystical lady came to be a font of wisdom of which the bold and adventurous, the rich and the powerful, oft came to drink?

She was possessed of a great deal of what is wrongly called commonsense, for though quite sensible it is far from common, and thus did many come to visit with the curious lady who dwelt quaintly under hill. She lived quietly, prudently, and contentedly for many a year, much to the annoyance of her neighbors, who could not comprehend such a life and the enjoyment thereof, yet in their self-inflicted misery thought themselves the happier by far but did not understand the source of their own consternation.

So what great advice or sagacious snippets did she give this vast and curious throng that sought her out over the years? What could a woman who lived under a hill in a far flung district know of the world at large or people in particular? This is what all such visitors often asked themselves, but then they had to remember that often what they most sought was to be found in rather strange places, so contented themselves with imbibing a draught of wisdom from this uncanny font. One such adventurer, a peasant lad of the age when he should be finding something useful to do with his life, one day appeared at her door. He knocked boldly, she opened the door with a small, quiet smile that might have been concealing a knowing laugh, and ushered the awkward boy into the cheerful main room of the infamous cottage under hill. His awkwardness vanished as he took the offered chair, munched upon a cookie, and sipped the fresh brewed tea, feeling as if he were sitting at table with his own dear granny. That spritely smile deepened, as if she knew his thoughts, which was very likely as she was rumored to be all knowing, and she asked if she might refill his tea.

He nodded and then began his tale, as she poured, "I need a direction in life, that is why I am come. But of course you knew that already. So what shall I do? My parents wish me to apprentice with the cobbler and marry a nice girl once I have established myself. I want to go adventuring and become a man of wealth and renown, and likely marry a princess, or at least a noble's daughter. What must I do to make my dreams come true?"

Said she with that selfsame smile, "what are these dreams for which you reach?"

The boy stared at her blankly, completely lost as to an answer, his mouth half full of cookie. After a moment he shut his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, swallowed slowly, and said in perplexity, "what are my dreams? They are dreams, aspirations, ideals! What else?"

She laughed like a spring rain, "that is all mist and moonbeams lad! Nothing onto which you can hope to gain a hold nor a proper hook on which to hang a life. You need something concrete, something real, something for which to aim. Can you go hunting with such aspirations and hope to come home successful? Nay lad, you must have a target to shoot at or your arrows will be loosed for naught. What is it you want out of life? Where do you want to be ten or twenty years from now?"

The boy gaped at her again, this time with nothing in his mouth, and suddenly shut his hanging jaw with an audible click. He frowned in thought and was silent for an interminable time before finally saying, "I want to be like my father: a prosperous and respected man in the village with a loving, happy family." He smiled broadly, "your fame is not unearned my lady!" He stood and bowed formally, if awkwardly for lack of practice, "your wisdom gives me hope and direction I would not otherwise have had! Thank you, dear lady!" He nearly skipped out the door and turned his steps towards home, wishing he could start his apprenticeship that very moment.

She watched him go, shaking her head in amusement and that impish smile of delight now sparkling in her eyes. She had long ago given up trying to explain to such guests that they often already possessed the so-called wisdom they sought and merely needed to clarify their own thoughts on the matter in question. Time and again had they given her credit for vast depths of wisdom that she did not necessarily possess. She shook her head ruefully and was about to close the door when her nearest neighbor slipped in at the last moment uninvited, eyeing the remaining cookies and cold tea with interest. Said she without preamble, "more mysterious visitors, hmmm? Care to say more?"

The lady of the house stood by the half open door, as if waiting for her uninvited guest to take the hint and leave, but the invader just stood there waiting for an explanation and fresh tea. The good dame continued to stand there in silence and her neighbor's consternation grew by the moment, finally she turned on her heel and in a flutter of skirts and apron, the nosy woman flounced off to gossip with her cronies about the abominable manners and the sinister dealings she was no doubt having with all these strangers as she was unwilling to discuss the matter with her nearest and dearest. The old woman's smile now held an ironic twist, knowing exactly what tale her exasperated neighbor was even now carrying to the rest of the village. She laughed outright and went to put the tea things in order.

If I take the wings of the morning,

and dwell in the uttermost part of the sea...

~Psalm 139~

Swansong

Beauty, immortality, freedom what more could one want under the mortal sun? Odette ruffled her feathers in irritation, what indeed! Perhaps wisdom and contemplation were far more desirous virtues. The offer seemed too good to be true, which meant it probably was, but little did she heed the uneasy, questioning thought that stirred at the very notion. She had walked that path through the woods a thousand times in her life and never had she met anyone or anything upon it that was not commonly found in wood or river, until her last fateful walk three months ago when she met that startlingly beautiful woman who offered her more than she had bargained for. The woman was possessed of uncanny magical abilities, this and her dark beauty drew the unwitting girl inexplicably to her. They wandered along the river, the girl silent in awe and wonder, as a worshipper in the very presence of their god and the woman now and then speaking some word of deep insight or hidden knowledge. Finally, the sorceress stopped and looked out upon the broad expanse of the river, saying thoughtfully, "would you be mistress of your own destiny? Free of the constraints of death and care? Beautiful and free?"

The girl's eyes were wide with wonder and delight, "oh that it could be so!"

The woman's smile was not comforting but Odette was too excited to notice, said the woman, "you wish to go through with this then?" The girl nodded exuberantly, forgetting to ask what exactly it was she was agreeing to. The woman's cruel smile deepened and a malicious delight played in her eyes as she spoke words incomprehensible and vanished. Odette's world suddenly went dark and when she came to herself, she found the world awash in a grey fog with the river's song loud in her ears. She blinked in perplexity and wondered what had happened. She gained her feet and slid easily into the river, only then realizing her strange fate.

The woman had spoken truly, she was beautiful, swans were considered quite comely creatures. She was free, she could fly or swim whither she would. She also knew, somehow, that she would neither grow old nor become ill while trapped in this form but it also meant remaining forever a mere bird, unless a way could be found to break the spell. She had had her fill of immortality, beauty, and freedom these past three months and was quite ready to return to what she had formerly thought was a rather drab existence. She had flown hither and yon, swum where it pleased her, but she was far from free, imprisoned as she was in this foreign body. The river nymphs were cordial, greeting her as she floated past with a sad smile, but never accepting her as friend and companion. She could not go back to human society nor was the company of other swans acceptable, being only silly beasts. Odette had never been truly lonely before, not to mention bored. She had no purpose, no interest, nothing to do except float down the river and mourn her ill fate. So great was her heartache that often as she drifted down the misty river in the cold starlight she would bemoan her fate in haunting whistles and eerie trumpets, making a fey music that caused its hearers to both shudder and weep in grief and horror, though none knew from whence the song came.

The year was growing old, the cheerful skies of summer grew hoary and grim, brooding pensively like a miser over his hoard. The miserable swan knew she should flee to warmer climes, for there was no place for her among the ice and snows of winter, but she had grown despondent and little cared what the future might hold. The only concession she would make towards the oncoming season was to float down the river towards the distant sea, wondering if her bitterness could lose itself in the undying echo of its disconsolate roar. Leaves fell as she passed, brown and dead, like all her hopes as she floated silently through a grey land.

He stood on the battlements and stared stonily upon the dismal scene: grey sea, grey castle, grey sky, grey stones, grey hair, all of it suited his abominable mood. He had been a fool, and now he would have all the rest of time to contemplate his folly. He had met the sorceress upon the shore one sleepless night when he had gone out to pace up and down and stare at the stars. She was a beautiful creature, but distant and cold as the stars overhead. He had spouted some nonsense about envying the undying stars in their solitary splendor. She had asked if he would like to live forever. Curious, and utterly foolish, he had said that he would. Her laugh had been as chill as the wind that night but only afterwards did he realize it, and only too late. She asked again if he were certain and he had readily agreed. The waves had been fretting all night, but suddenly one great specimen engulfed the sleepless knight as the lady vanished like sea spray. A wan dawn had found him lying on the stony shore, soaked and frozen, but he knew he would live forever. His triumph however died aborning, for no sooner had this certainty arisen in his heart than he glanced at his wrinkled and withered arm and knew that with his immortality had also come a curse. He was a bent and wrinkled old man, lost were his vigor and youth; he must endure an eternal old age.

Such was his despair and rage that the few servants remaining to him soon fled. He had not been a kind master, but there were those who needed bread more than compassion so had been willing to overlook this minor flaw in his character, but his changed appearance and ensuing wrath were too much for even these desperate creatures. So he was left alone in the great, aging castle with winter coming on and old age suddenly thrust upon him. He laughed bitterly and turned back into the keep.

Odette finally came to the end of the river where it rushed headlong into the sea. She took wing before the rival forces of tide and stream clashed and glanced about her for a place to land. It was a grim land of stony ground, iron sea, and lowering sky with a hulking castle staring forlornly upon it all. Ungainly on land but curious for the first time in months, she felt the first stirrings of something besides despair; she landed in the courtyard of the seemingly abandoned ruin. She glanced about with all the impertinence of the uninvited guest too dull to know the aggravation they have caused their unwitting host. There were some signs of recent habitation, but no one seemed to be about until a hunched old man emerged from a small alcove with eagerness burning in his eyes. The swan drew back, spread her wings, and hissed at the intruder, who suddenly stayed his approach and studied the creature momentarily, before falling to his knees with a grievous cry, the knife he had been clutching fell unheeded to the ground. The swan was too astonished to flee, but rather cocked her head and studied the miserable creature before her; he sounded as dejected as she felt, his anguished cry a startling echo of her own morose song.

Not knowing exactly why, she folded her wings and waddled over to the wretched man, who lay sobbing on the paving stones, and rubbed her cheek against his. He reached up, almost mechanically, and cupped her feathered cheek with his hand, weeping all the more. His misery stirred the uneasy echoes in her own soul and soon they were both keening together in an unearthly chorus. Exhausted with grief, the pair at last studied one another, each strangely content in the company of the other. The man shakily stood and looked upon the peculiar bird with a grim smile, "do you know how close you came to death lass? That vile witch would have loved nothing more than to add murder to my wretchedness! But I saw such a look of despair in your eyes as never dwelt in those of a foolish fowl that I knew you must be something more. She that laid this curse upon me said I could be free of it if only I'd bathe in swan's blood. Ha, swan's blood! There has never been a swan in these parts since my forefathers built this castle five generations ago. What is your own sad tale? Are you a victim of this heartless sorceress as well?"

The swan whistled in agitation and flapped her wings emphatically. The man smiled wryly, "I should have guessed as much. I was once a young knight, if you can believe it, but she appeared and offered me life unending and I like a fool asked no questions. I have life unending all right, but also became an old man and am ever cursed to be. I suppose the same is your plight, save you are cursed to go about in feathers?" The swan moaned her agreement and the man nodded, but a weak smile tinged his lips, "well, you can stay here if you'd like. I'm all alone else, and it seems you are too. Neither of us may be much in ourselves, but it is better than nothing." The swan keened in interest, as if to say, 'we have nothing to lose.'

So it was that the bizarre pair passed the winter companionably together and at last found solace from their grief and loneliness. Though the swan could not talk, she found ways to make her intentions known and soon they could communicate, if roughly. The castle was well stocked for winter but the man knew little of the domestic arts; the swan was a good housekeeper but had no hands, thus they were forced to rely on one another to accomplish all those daily tasks that went into making life livable, and in so doing, each was severely put to the test, for neither had been either very patient or forgiving in their previous lives. But such had been the ache and grief and horror of this new existence that they were loath to part with one another, strange as such companions were, no matter how frustrating, it was far better than the aching loneliness each had previously known. So it was they worked and labored together, even learning to laugh at their little mistakes and the awkward dance that was often life. The man had to lay aside his pride and learn to do tasks he had previously thought beneath him; the lady could no longer rely upon her own skills and ingenuity and had to depend upon another for her succor.

So it was that spring returned to utterly change the face of that grim land, so too did she find the once miserable pair likewise transformed. As the merry sun returned, the wind no longer held a bitter chill, and a creeping green shadow swept over the land, so too had warmth and joy crept back into the hearts of the aged man and his avian chatelaine. The spring hills resounded with his hearty laugh and her gay whistles as they left the grim keep to explore the verdant countryside. Of an evening they would sit by the fire and he would read or tell some tale, perhaps an adventure of his own or one of the stories passed down from his illustrious forebears. On one such night, a tremulous knock sounded upon the kitchen door. The swan keened in wonder, for never had she seen or heard of another human person in the months of her residence there, for word had spread of the cursed castle and its grim master so none ventured thither. The ancient man shakily grasped an old sword that was never far from his side and went to investigate this summons.

The sea writhed in the grasp of a furious spring storm and rain and thunder shattered the usual peace of the night. Upon the kitchen step, shivering in the wet and black of night, stooped an old woman garbed in rags. The man smiled ruefully as he hurriedly tossed aside the sword to help the aged dame into the relative comfort of the keep. The swan stood on a table and snaked her neck around the corner, watching in interest and dread. She whistled in dismay to see it was a needy guest and that she was unprepared; Odette hastened from the room to make ready. Six months previous, the poor beggar would have been turned out with nothing more than a bread crust if she were fortunate or a scolding if she were not, but now she was treated as if she were a visiting monarch, for each remembered their own days of bitterness and could not stand to see one of their fellow men in similar straits so did all they could to alleviate her misery. She soon found herself clad in dry and comfortable clothing, sitting before the fire, and eating the very same meal of which her hosts partook. Her eyes twinkled in secret joy as she broke bread with her strange companions.

They wished greatly to speak with their guest, but it was obvious she was weary from her journey and they must content themselves with waiting for the morrow. She gratefully accepted a sleeping place in one of the many empty rooms the castle boasted, far better accommodations than the stable or under a hedge which might otherwise fall to one of her lot. But they were not to speak with the dear woman in the morning, for she had vanished, but they were not left long alone to ponder this strange occurrence, for another visitor demanded their attention. The sun shone merrily upon the dripping world, washed fresh by the previous night's storm, and upon their doorstep stood a most curious fellow. Said he, with perplexity in his voice, "I was bidden by a great and noble lady to hasten hither that I might unite a lord and lady in marriage."

The aged knight stared in wonder at the wandering monk that stood outside his door, but quickly hastened him inside and invited him to join them at breakfast. The man stared from the ancient lord to the great bird that dined at the table and back in even greater astonishment and the knight could not but laugh, "your own perplexity is no greater than my own. Who was this strange lady of your acquaintance? As you can see, there are none here save a man too old for such concerns and a bird too wise for her kind."

The brown robed man shook his head but with a wan smile, hinting at a hidden sense of humor, said, "I know her not, but she wakened me from a sound sleep in the middle of the night and ordered me to this place. She was the most beautiful creature I have ever gazed upon and I dared not disbelieve nor disobey such a summons."

Said the man grimly, "was there aught of cruelty, scorn, or deceit about her?"

The cleric shook his head adamantly, "nay lord, she was all joy, mirth, and compassion."

The knight stroked his jaw in thought while the swan whistled a query. Slowly the aged man smiled and turned to the feathered lass, said he with a rueful laugh, "will you have me lady?" She whistled her amused affirmation and the peculiar pair stood before the friar, who was no little aghast at the idea. Said the knight solemnly, "fear not that this be an unholy union sir, for we are both of us children of men and should be of a young and joyous age, but alas you see us in other guise. Perhaps there is a cure in the union? If not, I shall still have the lady to wife, even if she wears feathers." The priest nodded sadly but cheered slightly as he proceeded to hear their vows. As he finished the ceremony, the sun's light, shining gaily down from a high window suddenly intensified to a blinding brilliance and all hid their eyes. When they could again see, man and maid stood before the priest as ever they were wont to be, save with a warmth and wisdom neither had possessed ere their strange adventures. They all laughed for very joy, each embracing the others.

Again came a knocking upon the kitchen door, but this time there was no hesitancy or timidity, but rather an exuberant joy, after which the door burst asunder and the vibrant lady of the monk's brief acquaintance stood in the doorway like sunshine incarnate. The lord and lady of the keep recognized her immediately as their guest of the previous night, though as changed in visage as the weather between their two meetings. Said she with delight, "well met, I say! Well met indeed! Now let us to the wedding feast while I tell you all the tale." They exchanged startled but eager looks and accompanied the lady into the long unused banquet hall where an extravagant feast awaited them. While they dined, she spoke thus, "I chanced upon my sister in my wanderings the other day and we sat for some time speaking of our adventures in the wide world. We are of rather opposite persuasions, she and I, but as sisters we must occasionally feign interest in one another and we share a common profession so there is also that to consider. She takes great joy in causing mortal men much heartache and grief, in tricking them into accepting a curse and laughing at their misery thereafter.

She especially enjoys trapping those of a proud and independent mien, as their misery is the most acute when they realize how utterly wretched they have become. She laughingly told of such an accursed pair, having intended the one to kill the other, but somehow they had found companionship in their wretchedness and pity one for the other. She laughed all the more at the strange situation that would be theirs until mornings ceased altogether. So she went on her way laughing while I hastened to this place to see if there might not be some cure to the curse. I was the poor beggar upon your doorstep last night and you treated me with all the kindness you would a queen, so I knew there was hope for your plight. Had you been still wretched and small of heart, not all the magic in the world could have freed you from your bondage, for though your outward appearance might be restored, your hearts would still have been as small and miserable as ever and so would you remain, for it is not in my power to lift such a curse. But with that blight already lifted from your souls, it was a small matter to restore your physical forms. Now use your newfound love to make this stony land bloom and flourish, too long has it lain fallow under a winter of scorn and pride."

The newly wedded pair exchanged a joyous and eager smile and soon enlisted the monk in their conspiracy of joy. Word soon spread of the lifted curse and the far more astonishing change wrought in the once grim lord. It was not long before summer invaded many hearts thereabouts that had long lay dead and cold, as if in winter's grasp. And so did that land flourish and prosper in the sixth generation as it had not done in the five before it. The cruel sorceress muttered under her breath about meddling sisters, but did not interfere, as there were plenty of other men yet in the world to be made aware of their own misery, for they were already wretched at heart, she simply had the talent of bringing it to the fore.

Dickery, dickery, dare,

The pig flew up in the air;

The man in brown soon brought him down,

Dickery, dickery, dare.

~Nursery Rhyme~

When Pigs Fly

It is unwise to be hasty, especially in the habit of doing good deeds, as this story will show. There once was a man in brown, his name has been lost to song and story so we must know him only based upon the color of his garb on one particular day. We do not know from whence he came or whither he was going, but on this bright morning he was passing by a neat little farmyard when there arose such an outcry that he was forced to stop and give heed to what remarkable or dreadful event had just ensued. He was quite astonished, giving a little cry of surprise himself, to see a well grown pig suddenly take wing, though it had no such appendage, but it was seemingly intent on soaring through the vast pastures of the sky. Not even pausing to consider what he was doing or how it might utterly alter his destiny, he climbed upon the stone fence along the road and leapt at the flying hog as it swept past. Being rather tall and athletic, he was just able to grasp the hock of the terrified swine, screaming for all it was worth at this uncanny turn of events. The pair crashed to earth and the farmer and his daughter came running over in relief and wonder, both trying to talk at once.

The farmer took hold of the hog, which still seemed intent on zipping off on another aerial adventure, and babbled something about the creature having been sold to a great and terrible man who would take the beast's disappearance amiss. He gratefully took the pig from the stranger, only to gape in astonishment as the man himself went flying out of sight the moment he lost his grip on the pig. The farmer, the pig, and the girl all exchanged a mystified look and muttered darkly about mischievous sorcerers, but quickly returned to their interrupted chores.

The now airborne man, however, could not simply return to his interrupted walk as he was completely at the mercy of whomever had apparently summoned the pig by this unnatural means. He shuddered to think what such a powerful magician would think when a man landed on the doorstep rather than the anticipated hog. But there was little he could do until that fateful moment so he contented himself in enjoying the thrill of the ride and the charming country over which he flew. As the sun reached its noon peak, a great and hideous castle loomed before him and a shudder shook his body, he knew thither lay his doom. He landed quite safely in some sort of kitchen yard enclosed by high stonewalls. A short, bearded fellow in rather rough clothes stood waiting for him, or rather the pig, and did not seem at all surprised to see a man in the beast's place. He only shook his head and said gruffly, "the Ogre will want to see you."

"Ogre?" gasped the man in brown, shakily trying his legs.

"Aye," said the bearded man, "he won't be happy you've interfered with his dinner."

"Dinner?" swallowed the man.

"Aye," said the fellow, "he has a grand feast planned for this very night, invited the entire populous hereabouts and that pig was a vital part of the entertainment. He won't be pleased. Come." The man sighed but followed his host as one condemned to the gallows might the hangman.

They traversed many a grim and murky corridor before they came to a dim, dank throne room in which a monstrous creature rather laired than sat. The servant made his bows and the hideous creature rumbled, "who dares disturb me?"

The servant said, "I was expecting a pig Sire, one that was legally bought and paid for. This fellow showed up instead, no doubt up to some mischief or other."

The monster thundered, "stolen my pig has he? Trying to embarrass me in front of the whole neighborhood no doubt? Well knave? What have you to say for yourself?"

The man quivered, "please sir, it was all a mistake, a good intentioned mistake. I saw the pig go flying off and the farmer's concern so I thought to intercede. The pig remains with the farmer and I find myself here in its stead. I meant no harm."

The beast roared, "well whatever you intended, harm is what you did! Irrevocable harm! I will be a laughingstock! My banquet is ruined! What have you to say to that?"

The man bowed deeply in resignation then replied, "it appears I have erred and greatly offended you, Sire, if there is any recompense I can make, let it be so."

Malice and cruelty filled the monster's laughing reply, "what if I ordered that you take the place of the hog at tonight's feast?"

The man shuddered but said quietly, "I would say that is a grim fate indeed but I am at your mercy."

The ogre spat, "bah, I have no such failing as mercy, but just to spare myself from accusations of injustice I will offer you a chance of escape. Take your bow and go into the surrounding woods and fields, if you can bring back another creature in your stead, you shall go free, else you know your fate. You have one hour! Be gone!"

The man shuddered again but hastened after the grim servant, who led him out into the bright and cheerful sunlight, which only made his recent audience seem even more a nightmare. He followed silently out into the fields about the castle and into the woods thereabouts, taking a bow and quiver of arrows from the silent servant. Finally realizing himself free, he thought for a moment of running away but the monster would certainly be angered and insulted enough to pursue and put him to an even worse end than that which already awaited him. He could not strike out against the servant, he was only doing his master's bidding; he was not the true villain. He sighed heavily, nocked an arrow, and trudged wearily forwards, looking for signs of an acceptable replacement. The servant followed silently after.

His wandering soon brought him out into a broad meadow where he was surprised to find a small party of richly clad young men and their servants busy with several deer and a young boar, apparently having had some success in their hunting. Said the man eagerly, "sirs, could I have but the least of your quarry? It would truly spare my life!"

The young lords looked over the ragged fellow and his aged companion, exchanged a scornful look, and then laughed contemptuously. One saying, "be gone beggar! You will have none of our spoil, go fetch your own. We care little for the plight of such wretches who undoubtedly brought their sorrow rightfully upon their own heads."

"But...!" cried the man but the servants left their tasks and drove the strangers away with many and vicious blows. The dejected man fled into the woods and nearly tripped over an old beggar, deaf and lame. The poor wretch flinched back in terror and the man quickly tried to reassure him that there was naught to fear.

Said the servant thoughtfully, "my master bid you bring back a replacement, not specifying who or what. This poor wretch might suffice."

The man gave him an incredulous look but said only, "it was my own folly that got me into this mess and I alone shall pay what price I must. This poor fellow has certainly suffered enough in life, let me not add to his sorrows." He tossed the fellow all the coins he had on his person, ruefully thinking he no longer had a need for them. They turned away from the gratefully smiling beggar and continued on, the precious minutes nearly spent. They came again into a wide meadow, still having seen no sign of living game, but there were sheep aplenty grazing in that pleasant field.

A shepherdess approached with a curious smile on her beautiful young face and inquired, "what brings you to this forgotten field good sirs?"

The man asked in desperate hope, "can I have but the least of your sheep miss? Anything old or sick or lame will do; I will pay whatever price I must, for my very life depends upon it!"

A sneer marred her lovely face as she said scornfully, "thieves, no doubt! Be gone ere I fetch my father and the dogs! I will have no dealings with such scoundrels!"

"It is time to return," said the servant quietly, "unless you can make other arrangements quickly. The girl is quite alone; her sheep are vulnerable at the moment."

The girl squawked in indignation and the man said, turning back towards the grim castle, "I will not stoop to theft. Let us be done with this farce, I have failed and will face my doom." The servant nodded grimly and led the man back to the hulking, ugly castle. The girl watched them go with a spiteful frown.

They returned to the kitchen courtyard and the man set his bow against one of the walls. As he turned back towards the servant, he saw the door through which they had come was wide open and the servant stood aside, saying, "flee if you will, here is your last chance."

The man shook his head, "what grim fate would await you should your master find me gone? I will not imperil your life to save my own. Let things be as they must."

The servant closed the door with dreadful finality and said, "then it is time you were dressed for dinner." The man nodded glumly and followed the servant down a grim stair into the dank depths of the castle.

It was a sumptuous feast and the beautiful castle was elaborately decorated for the occasion. All of the locals had been invited, even the deaf beggar, and many had come from distant lands to attend, for the aging and childless King was this night to select his heir from amongst them. There was much excited chatter and barely contained eagerness as each delightful course was finished, only to be followed by one even better. At last, when no one could possibly eat another bite or contain their curiosity any longer, a short, bearded herald in bright livery announced that the moment of decision had come. The richly robed King stood forth, leaning heavily on his cane, he said, "here then is my heir, he has proved himself time and again to be a man of the greatest courage and integrity."

All eyes turned to the back of the room towards which the King had grandly gestured, and a man came forth, though no longer clad all in brown, but certainly no less the hero of this strange tale. The noble huntsmen and the shepherdess did not recognize him, but the lame beggar began to clap for all he was worth and the others soon joined him, for here was their new King. There had never been an ogre and the great castle was far from dank and hideous, all had been a ruse to test the heart of the man in brown. The short, bearded fellow was glad indeed to dress him in scarlet and purple. And to think it had all started with a flying pig.

" _One misty, moisty, morning,_

When cloudy was the weather,"

A little wind went laughing by

And danced among the heather.

I envy me, that little wind,

That lingers in the clover,

Though he chats with common trees,

He's seen the whole world over.

He's howled in storm o'er foreign seas,

And set far fields a'dancing;

Rippled in the fairy's brook,

Joined unicorns in prancing.

Like a ghost, forsook, forgot,

On lonely shores went wailing;

In desert cold, under moon,

He sends the clouds a'sailing.

He moans forlorn against the pane,

And at last, I must ponder,

Fox has hole and bird a nest,

But wind must ever wander.

~First two lines transplanted from a Nursery Rhyme~

A Lady Unknown

"I will avert this curse, witch," vowed Bayard grimly, before turning deadly eyes upon his elder brother, and finishing coldly, "and I will return and see that your treachery comes to naught." He turned sharply on his heel and stalked out of the room.

The crown prince turned worried eyes to the comely woman who remained at his side, smiling in vast amusement, said she, "I would not worry about him my Lord. My spells are not so easily thwarted and my words shall come to pass. Tomorrow shall be his last day to walk a mortal man under the sun." Her eyes grew hungry and her smile deepened as she purred, "now what of our bargain?"

The young man swallowed nervously but said resolutely, "we shall be married at once and you will be Queen, just as we agreed. But what of my father the King?"

Her smile grew evil, "leave him to me." An involuntary shiver ran down the prince's spine and he wondered if he had the nerve to go through with this coup after all, but it was too late to turn back now; who knew what vile hex she would lay upon him if he balked? He offered her his arm and guided her out of the room.

Bayard had no sooner shut the door than he broke into a run towards the stables, he would find a way to break the curse that had been laid upon him and return before any more fell deeds could befall his family and Kingdom. A less prudent man might have lashed out at brother and sorceress alike, once their treachery had been revealed, but Bayard knew he was as helpless before this woman as a kitten before a mastiff. He felt it to his very soul that she would have done something far worse ere his sword had cleared the scabbard and thus ended all argument, permanently, but now he had a chance, slim though it be, to act against her and his treacherous brother. But how? His mind raced more quickly than his feet, seeking an answer, but all he could think to do was flee the castle and hope some answer presented itself once he was free of all pursuit. He came to a dead stop the moment he entered the shadowy confines of the Royal Stable and smiled to see two horses already saddled and waiting.

He opened his mouth to ask Peter, his faithful friend and servant who was adjusting one last buckle on the saddlebags, how he had known but the man answered, ere the words left his lips, "I saw your brother and that beautiful but foul feeling woman talking secretively in the courtyard not long ago and knew something was dreadfully amiss Sire. I assumed you might need to make a quick escape. All is ready for a journey of some days, Highness, if that is your need or desire."

He bowed respectfully but failed to completely hide his triumphant smile at foreseeing his master's needs. The boy would have hugged the man, had he time, but instead he smiled gratefully even as he swung into his saddle, "you must teach me this uncanny skill of foresight you seem to have on occasion."

The old servant climbed into his saddle and replied as they trotted out of the stableyard, "I fear it is a thing one either has or has not, it cannot be taught. What is our road?"

The boy shook his head, "we must get away from here and under cover as soon as possible, I do not trust that they are finished with me, curse or no."

Peter turned worriedly to his young master, "curse?"

The boy laid his heels into his horse's flanks, urging the beast to a gallop, though whether out of haste or to avoid the question, Peter knew not, but followed silently after his master. Only when they were free of the castle and the city and safely beneath the shade of the surrounding forest, did Bayard respond, "you yourself said she was a foul feeling woman, and no truer words have ever been spoken. She is a veritable witch, despite her fair facade and has promised that tomorrow shall be my last mortal day under the sun. I promised in return, to break the curse and avenge their treachery." Peter was both devastated and intrigued by the boy's words, had he a way to break the spell? Bayard saw the eager light in the man's grim eyes and shook his head sadly, "nay dear friend, I currently know not how to avert my doom, but I must if the Kingdom is not to fall into their vile hands."

Peter let out a heavy sigh, "then let us to the Wildwood my lad, if ever there were a place rife with Magic, it is the Wood, and now perhaps it is our only hope though most men deem it suicide to venture thither." The boy nodded his agreement and turned his horse towards the supposedly haunted wood on the eastern borders of the Kingdom.

They pushed the horses hard, for the boy's allotted time was short, and by evening they had reached the borders of that legendary forest. They dismounted and led the huffing creatures into the twilight beneath the trees, following the sound of babbling water, as man and beast were alike desperate for a drink. They walked on as the night deepened, thinking it strange that they neither stumbled nor lost their way in the darkening wood, for as the sound of the water grew stronger, so too did a gentle and cool radiance fill the forest about them with ample light to see, as if the yet hidden moon stood high and full overhead. They entered a clearing in which stood a fountain, from whence came the light and the water's song, but before they dared drink, a woman of beauty and bearing like unto babbling water in the moonlight, stood forth and said, "welcome wanderers, drink not of the fountain, save at your own peril. Instead, refresh yourselves with all that I shall freely provide." The thirsty and skittish men exchanged a curious look, sensing this vision before them carried none of the threat and evil that hung about the sorceress that had sparked this foolish adventure.

The young prince stepped forward, bowed, and said courteously, "we thank you for your kindness, my Lady. We have ridden long and far this day and are in desperate need of refreshment and our beasts more so." She smiled at his polite words and motioned towards the far side of the clearing where a delightful repast lay, as if awaiting their coming, for both man and beast. The men tended to their spent horses before slaking their own thirst. "Will you not join us?" asked Bayard as he and Peter sat upon the grass and began to eat.

She sat nearby and laughed like a happy girl, "nay lord, but I shall attend you as you sup, if that is your wish?"

They dug in heartily and only after the edge was taken off their hunger did Bayard slow enough to begin conversation in earnest with their gracious host, said he, "what is the danger in the fountain lady?"

She smiled impishly and said, "that I will not tell you until the dawning, sir. Tonight you will sleep beside it and if you can keep from succumbing to its sweet song, in the morning you will find it worth your while." So they ate and drank and felt their hearts at last at ease, despite the horrors and rigors of the day. Bayard almost forgot the curse that lay upon him, but before he could ask their fair host if she knew aught of such things, she stood quite suddenly and said, "nay lord, I cannot answer you as you would wish. If there is an answer, it does not lie with me. Perhaps there is one wiser to aid you deeper in the Wood, but for tonight, let your heart find rest in what I can offer." She bid them goodnight and walked primly away.

Peter swallowed a last mouthful with relish and then said wonderingly, "this is a different sort of magic altogether, and one I am glad to have encountered. I hope it bodes well for the rest of our journey."

Bayard nodded his agreement, staring off into the woods where that lovely creature had vanished. The light from the fountain dimmed slightly as they settled down to sleep, as if it knew the glare might keep them awake, but its song soon soothed them into a dreamless slumber. They were wakened at first light by the songs of innumerable birds in the trees above them. The Lady of the Fountain greeted them warmly as they began to stir and offered them a breakfast as wonderful as supper had been. She smiled triumphantly, "you did not touch the fountain or the water therein. You were not even tempted?"

Bayard snorted in amusement, "nay lady, your provender was filling enough to heart and body, what more could we desire?"

Peter added under his breath, "we have had our fill of magic of late and would not gladly entangle ourselves in more." Her eyes laughed as they met his and he knew she had heard him. He bowed stiffly before turning away in embarrassment.

They did justice to her provisions and she watched them joyously. Supper had eased their troubled hearts and calmed their agitated spirits. Breakfast filled them with a desire to be on their way on such a lovely morning. Even the horses seemed fresh from the stable. Said she as they made ready to ride, "take this my lord, perhaps it will aid you on your way." She handed him a smooth stone that one might easily mistake for ice, save that it was only cool to the touch not freezing. She continued, "whenever you need water, simply cast this stone into a ditch, gully, or hole and it will fill with water. Take it as your reward for avoiding the temptations of the fountain."

He asked wonderingly, "and what is the danger therein?"

Her impish smile returned, "there is nothing of virtue or vice about the fountain or the water therein. When I said that one drank it at their own peril, the peril of which I spoke was that of revealing an utter lack of self-control and patience, of showing one's complete lack of manners and propriety."

Bayard smiled, "I am glad you find me at least civilized, my Lady." He said with a sigh, as his face fell, "you can give us no clue to this riddle?"

She shook her head sadly, "nay lord, I can only refresh and encourage weary travelers upon their way. But take heart, the Wood is wide and broad, filled with wonders and dangers aplenty. You will find what you seek, or rather what you need."

They bid her a warm farewell and continued on their way. The fountain's song had barely ceased in their ears when the trees ended suddenly and a narrow and desolate waste opened before them. They could see the trees, green and healthy, on the far side of the clearing, but what should have been a lush and rolling meadow was sere and empty of any growing thing. A few beasts, little more than walking skeletons, wandered listlessly about the clearing, their heads down and paying no heed to the intruders. A ruined farmstead stood at one end of the waste and a family in as poor condition as their livestock sat or stood dejectedly in the midst of it. When the folk did not bother to leave their misery to greet the strangers, Bayard turned his horse towards the crumbling farmyard. Only when he was nearly atop them, did they look up from their dejection.

The man stood, bowed his skull-like head to the young man, and said miserably, "you would be wise to ride on my lord, for a curse hangs heavy upon us."

Bayard smiled grimly, "I will not ride on until I have heard your tale of woe, my good man."

The man cheered slightly, if only in eagerness to share his woes with another, said he, "three days ago, a sorceress passed this way and cursed our once prosperous farm. No harm or insult did we give her, but it seems merely for the joy of our misery did she treat us thus. There was once a bright and happy stream that wound through the midst of the meadow, but with a word she dried it up and then said no water or rain would ever slake our thirst save that of the vanished beck. Neither would death be permitted to give relief in its turn."

Bayard's grim smile deepened, "I believe I know this very witch and have run afoul of her myself. I have yet to find an answer to the hex she has laid upon me but I can perhaps remedy some of her mischief." He took the Lady's stone out of his pocket and cast it into the dry creek bed. In moments, the stream was running fast and clear once more, the withered grass and crops were renewed, the miserable stock was revived, the crumbling homestead was restored, and the entire family was immediately hale and hearty as they had been only a few days prior.

The delighted farmer said in astonishment, "what can we do to repay your kindness, my lord?"

Bayard shook his head sadly, "if only you could do for me as easily as I have done for you, but alas it cannot be, so go on with your lives in peace and joy and repay what kindness you can to other wayfarers who pass this way." The man bowed his head in thanks and their benefactor soon trotted out of sight, but the tale lived on as long as the man's descendants had breath to tell it.

The sun was setting as they emerged once more from the Wildwood and came to the grassy banks of a river, deep and slow. They had encountered nothing else that day that might not be seen in any forest of the world. It had been a pleasant day, if it was to be his last, but they had found no answers. Bayard drew rein beside the stream and dismounted, the ever-faithful Peter did likewise. There was a look of resignation and acceptance in the boy's eyes, as he said to the servant, "I do not know what this night shall hold my friend, whether it shall simply be death or something worse but ere the morning comes, I advise you ride on and leave me to my fate lest it endanger you in some way."

Peter shook his head and nearly begged, "nay lord, I shall remain until whatever is to come has passed." Bayard sighed at the man's stubbornness but was relieved that he would not have to face the unknown terrors alone. They let the horses drink and then turned them loose to crop upon the grass beside the river, there was no sense in going further as the light was failing and there was no amicable fountain to light their way. Here would they await whatever was to come.

As he sat upon the bank under the light of a young moon, enthralled by the murmur of the water and the crickets' song, Bayard came fully awake as an irregular movement in the water caught his eye. A moment later, the creature that had caused the erratic ripple in the otherwise quiet flow surfaced and drew near the bank. Bayard smiled in wonder, it appeared to be a comely young maiden who had the uncanny ability to live underwater. She returned his smile and said without introduction or preamble, "I have heard of your plight sir, and will offer what counsel I might."

He cocked his head and frowned slightly, "how is it you know of my problems, maid?"

Her smile widened in amusement, "news of such things travels fast in an enchanted forest, but I am no daughter of men, my lord, but rather of the watersprites, as such I know many of the folk who are quite foreign to the mind of mortal man, but perhaps therein lies your rescue. You cannot wander abroad under the sun a mortal man come the morrow, or so the tale goes." She looked a question at him, he nodded, too curious to speak. She continued, "then when the sun rises you must not be found a mortal man." He smiled at her as one who is grateful for your attempt at help but who knows nothing can avail him. She laughed outright and said, "I do not speak in vain, lord. If you will agree to my offer, you will be free of your curse."

His skeptical look became all eagerness, as she continued, "there is a worthy lady of my acquaintance, a truly dear friend, who is in want of a husband and has asked if I might not keep an eye out for such a one. Upon entering this engagement you will be granted temporary immortality, thus thwarting the curse laid upon you. Either of you can end the betrothal at any moment before you are wed, but the moment you are married, the arrangement is permanent. Of course if you or she chooses to renege, the curse will have its way with you, but you will not be forced to enter into a union that is utterly despicable to you. It will at least buy you time to rescue your Kingdom from the clutches of that vile sorceress."

Bayard stared at the water nymph in wonder; it was a strange bargain but better than death. He asked quietly, "what sort of creature is your lady friend?"

The water maiden laughed like a little brook, "that you will not learn until after you are wed and have irrevocably joined yourself to her race."

His eyes narrowed, "are there no worthy fellows amongst her own kind that might not serve her thus?"

The maiden laughed again, "none that suit her, thus she is willing to look beyond her own people for a husband. Will you do it?"

A wild gleam sparkled in his eyes, "what have I to lose? Very well, the bargain is struck."

The sprite vanished for a moment beneath the river's swirl and reemerged with a glittering ring of silver in her hand. Bayard extended his hand and she placed the ring on his finger. "Now," said she, "return to your home and do what you must, but meet your betrothed by the Lady's Fountain in four days at eventide. Remember, old age and sickness are now held at bay, as is your curse, but you can still die by accident or violence. To end the engagement, simply remove the ring or she may ask its return if she finds you not to her liking. Fare thee well." She vanished into the river's depths and did not reappear.

Peter had been sitting higher up on the bank watching the exchange and stared at his master in wonder, but a wan smile graced his lips, "have you an answer my lord?"

Bayard smiled grimly, "an answer but also a riddle, perhaps I am in deeper trouble than when the day began."

"Perhaps," said the older man, "or perhaps not. Shall we ride home?"

"Certainly," said the boy, gaining his feet, "I only have a few days to put my affairs in order and who knows what that witch has been up to in the interim."

They caught and saddled the horses and were soon enough on their way, the light of the moon giving enough light to see while in the open, but once they entered the forest, Peter could see nothing at all and he cried out, "is this wise lord?"

Bayard answered back with a laugh of wonder, "I can see quite well, just let your horse have his head and I will lead us out."

Peter said in nervous mirth, "have you another of those rings for me? They seem to be quite handy upon occasion."

Bayard quietly replied, "we shall see if you feel the same once the full cost is known."

"Aye lad," said Peter in dismay, "I had forgotten the price of such a bauble. Lead on, lad, lead on."

They continued on in silence and came to the Lady's Fountain at daybreak. She met them there and gladly offered them refreshment for both body and soul, man and beast. She listened to their tale with joy as they ate, and then said as they returned to their saddles, "do not despair my lord, the waterfolk do not befriend anyone who is not well worth knowing, your lady shall be worthy indeed else the nymph would not esteem her in the least." The lady's words did much to bolster his courage as they rode off into the waxing day.

They reached the castle as the sun was setting, grateful that the lady's provender proved as good or better than a night's rest, for tonight they must act rather than sleep, for the Prince and his vile lady would be married this very evening and the festivities surrounding their nuptials would be the best and only time for the renegades to infiltrate the castle and put an end to their treachery. The city gates were wide open and unguarded, for all were bidden to the marriage celebration whether they would or not. The town lay silent and empty, as if it were abandoned, as all were attending the festivities. They found but a single guardsman on duty at the castle gates, who hastened to them the moment they were recognized, said he, "come away out of sight my lord, for your brother and his new wife would have you both in chains if they could catch you." They stepped into a shadowed corner of the stableyard to hear what he might say while the noise of the wedding feast within filled the courtyard.

Said the estimable guardsman as they dismounted, "I challenged her ladyship at the gate on the morning she entered the keep, and I have not been in her favor since and am lucky to be alive I suppose, but so it is that I am left alone to ward the gates while all others are within at the wedding feast. The King has not left his bed since the day she came, he is supposedly ill but I doubt not that she has had a hand in the matter. Both of you are accused of the worst treachery and orders were given for your immediate arrest should either of you be found, but I think rather the treachery lies with the lady and her new husband. I am at your service, my lord."

Bayard smiled gratefully and said to both of his faithful friends, "I will attempt to end my brother's treachery this night, but little do I know how to accomplish my task."

"You'll have a difficult time indeed, lad, for the woman is a witch," said a grim voice. Bayard looked up in surprise, recognizing the voice and wondering from whence it came.

The guardsmen said disgustedly, as Bayard fully took in the scene before him, "this also is that woman's doing. Once the feasting is done, they thought to make merry in the courtyard with a great fire and use this so-called heretic for kindling."

"Not if I can help it," snarled Bayard angrily, as he drew his knife and cut loose the ropes binding the aging man to the stake in the midst of a great pile of wood.

The Sage stepped away from his appointed doom with a look of bewildered amusement and bowed to the young man, "I too am at your service Highness. I thank you for the rescue, but I think we all face deadly peril this night, so I will not yet thank you for my life until all is said and done."

Bayard faced the Sage and asked, "have you any idea how to best this witch?"

Said the sage thoughtfully, "a direct confrontation will only end in disaster. Stealth is our best weapon, but you cannot hope to sneak up behind her and stab her in the back without half the Kingdom noticing. Rather, let us see to your father and perhaps therein lies our hope."

The boy frowned in confusion, but as he wanted to rescue his father from the woman's influence, he did not argue. The guardsman was left to ward the gate and keep a watch in case any in league with the witch happened by; Peter donned the Sage's robes and took his place at the stake for the same reason. The Sage and Bayard snuck into the castle, garbed as servants, and made their way unseen to the room wherein the King lay abed. The room was dark and unwarded as they entered. The King lay asleep in his bed, but the Sage ignored him after a cursory examination to discover if he were still alive or perhaps under some spell. The Sage lit the candle by the bedside and examined the powdery substance he found in a bowl on the table there.

He smiled in grim understanding as he said, "your father will wake once he no longer receives a daily dose of this vile poison. A tiny amount causes sleep, a little more results in death. Here perhaps you have your answer."

Bayard took the small bowl in his hands and stared in disgust at the innocuous looking powder, saying grimly, "I suppose it is the only way, but I cannot help but deplore the use of such tactics."

The Sage shook his head grimly, "aye lad, it is the only way, underhanded and treacherous as it seems."

They snuck down to the kitchens, which were swarming with harried servants trying to keep the guests supplied with food and drink; they had no time or notice for anything not immediately pertaining to their current task. It was a simple matter to find the special pair of goblets that would be used by the newlyweds to toast their marriage, to dissolve a little of the toxic powder in each, and then to quietly withdraw. They returned to the courtyard, told all that they had seen and done, and after confiscating fresh horses from the stables, all four vanished quickly from the city before the tumult of confusion began after the newlyweds had drunk of their poisoned cups. The King wakened the next morning to find his Kingdom in chaos, but the sudden return of trusted and competent leadership soon put matters to rights, but none knew what had come of his missing son, Peter, the guardsman, or the Sage.

By the next evening, the exhausted party nearly collapsed by the Lady's Fountain, remaining awake only long enough to tend to their weary horses and take a light meal, before sleeping well into the next day. The Lady smiled warmly at Bayard as he wakened late the next morning, saying quietly, "well met my lord, I hope your errand was successful? You have returned well in time for your wedding, if such is still your desire."

Bayard smiled wryly, "yea lady, I have even brought my half of the wedding party." His face fell slightly, he sighed, and continued, "yes, my task was completed, but not in a manner which a man of valor is wont to boast upon."

She nodded in commiseration, "it is never easy to be judge and executioner, especially when it must be carried out through subterfuge and deception."

He lay his hand to his sword, "I have never regretted the killing of men in battle as this act now lies heavy on my heart."

She shook her head sadly, "in war you fight for what is thought to be a just cause and your foes have every chance of defending themselves."

He smiled weakly, "aye, I fear I have taken the coward's way out."

The Sage had roused from his slumber and listened to the exchange with interest, adding at last, "nay Sire, your brother and his betrothed chose their own end when first they betrayed you and all the Kingdom. It was a regrettable end, yes, but so too would be the gallows."

Bayard stood and smiled grimly, "and happily I would not have to be the hangman. I know that it was all that could be done in the circumstances and will soon be at peace with my actions, but for a time it will gall me bitterly."

The rest of the party was beginning to stir and Bayard introduced Ondril the Sage and Garren, the faithful guard, to the Lady of the Fountain. Said she, "welcome dear and faithful friends. We shall have reason to celebrate indeed, for your beloved master will very soon wed a dear, sweet lady in this very place. While we wait for this blessed event, let each of you rest and recover from the tragedy of the last days and prepare yourselves for the joy that is to come."

Over the course of the day, she spoke quietly with each of the men, arranging their part in the festivities and seeing that they were properly clothed and coached in what they were to do. Great was their joy in one another's company and in the simple pleasures of food, music, rest, and conversation. The following day, Bayard asked if the farmer and his family might not attend the wedding. The Lady looked expectantly over his shoulder and smiled, the entire family had just arrived. There was much joy in the meeting and in anticipating what was to come, but never was a hint made as to what strange people the unknown lady might belong.

Finally, the sun sank on the appointed day, and Bayard's heart began to beat violently in hope and fear, wondering what the night would bring. The sun vanished beyond the rim of the world, the first bright stars dappled the fathomless ocean of the twilit sky, and the fountain bathed the wood in gentle light and the music of joyous water. The guests and participants stood about, arrayed in their borrowed splendor, as the bride and her party finally arrived. The Lady joined the water maiden as one of the bride's attendants, the Sage stood forth to perform the ceremony, while Peter and Garren attended the groom. The bride was hidden beneath a veil of gossamer material that might have been woven of moonlight, spider webs, and dew; her dress was of a similar material, but more opaque with thousands of tiny jewels twinkling in the light of star and fountain as she moved.

They met before the Sage, Bayard's eyes wide with wonder and fear, but though he could not see her face for the veil, he knew she smiled warmly at him and he felt his fears guttering out like a spent candle. His smile deepened and he nodded to the Sage. The ceremony was simple and sweet, and once the irrevocable words had been spoken, he lifted her veil, and for a moment was silent in astonishment; never had he seen such a beautiful creature. A slight gasp escaped the mortal men present as well, but pausing only for a moment, he bent his mouth to hers and kissed her.

Afterwards, the Lady provided another splendid feast out of the seemingly endless bounty of her goodness, and the company sat together and rejoiced in the happiness of their friends. The watersprite said to the bride with a laugh, "have I done well Aria?"

Aria looked joyously at her new husband, then blushingly looked at her wine cup, "you have indeed, my friend. I hope he feels the same?"

Bayard blushed in turn, but drew her close and smiled, "I do indeed!"

They talked and sang and listened to tales of the Wildwood until the grey light of dawn replaced the moonlit glow of the Fountain. The farmer and his family wished them all well and sleepily made their way home, needing to tend to neglected chores that would not wait. The water nymph kissed her friend on each cheek, bid farewell to each of the others, smiled impishly at the groom, bowed to the Lady, and vanished into the waters of the fountain. The Sage smiled deeply and asked of the Lady, "would it be thought amiss if I spent some time getting to know this Wood of yours? It seems an intriguing place."

She smiled in delight and said, "nay sir, as a Friend of the Lady of the Fountain, you are welcome to dwell here as long as you wish, assuming that you are no fell worker of evil or mischief." His smile deepened, if that were possible.

Garren looked rather awkward, digging his toe into the mossy ground, and said abruptly, "one of us had best return and tell the King all that has happened, Sire."

Bayard placed a calming hand on the anxious man's shoulder, "easy friend, you may stay or go to your liking, you are under no curse that requires you to abide."

He grinned foolishly, "thank you Sire, my family will be wondering what has come of me, as yours undoubtedly is. Can I tell the King you will visit him yourself in the days to come?"

Bayard looked to his lady and she nodded vigorously, with a sweet smile upon her lips. Said the former Prince, "fare you well my friend, until we meet again."

The man bowed deeply to them both, made his farewells to the Lady, then bade the Sage and Peter a hearty goodbye, giving the latter a sad, knowing look before he caught his horse and rode towards home. The Sage and Lady made their own farewells of the newly wedded couple and withdrew upon their own errands, leaving only Peter of the original party who stood somewhat aloof from the pair, his eyes red with ill-contained tears. Bayard drew him close, his own eyes threatening to spill over, saying warmly, "well old friend, what is the matter? Here we are, happy and alive, a thing which we could not have foreseen a week gone. Why the tears?"

Said the man gravely, "I am loath to part from thee lord, perhaps to death I must have let you go, but now I feel I have lost you all the same."

Understanding dawned upon him with a sudden dread of the utter strangeness of the world he was about to enter, a melancholy over the familiar world he was leaving behind. He turned to his lady and she seemed to know the horror sweeping through his once joyous heart, said she, "some day I hope that you will call my world your home, but I know it cannot be just yet, strange and terrifying as the new always is. Your man is faithful above anything I have ever seen amongst any kindred, mortal or fey. If he is willing, there is a way he might accompany us, but in so doing, he too must forsake the mortal sphere and all he once held dear."

Peter smiled sadly and went to one knee before this benevolent lady, saying quietly, "I have no family or kin to hold me here lady, the young lord has been in my keeping since he was barely old enough to leave his nurse and his welfare my only concern for many a year. The grateful King would see that my retirement was easy and quiet, therein would I soon die of grief, wondering how my lord fared in the wide world without me. Had he gone the way of all flesh, I would be comforted in knowing soon I would follow after. But this...to be sundered from him forever."

She smiled gently down upon the faithful man saying, "not forever, just until the sun and stars fail in their courses and the moon gives its light no more."

He smiled bemusedly up at her, "that would be long enough indeed for a mere man such as myself. I am yours, if you shall have me lady."

She bid him stand and said graciously, "your lord has bound himself irrevocably to my people by becoming my husband, you may do the same by swearing yourself to our service, but in your case the bond shall not be unbreakable. If ever you tire of your service to us, simply recant your vows and return to your own people."

A thoughtful look entered his eyes as he said, "and may I ask who or what are your people, lady?"

She laughed as a light breeze through young birches in the spring, "wise you are to inquire sir." She looked sweetly upon Bayard and continued, "your lord bound himself unquestioningly to me and mine. You will not be so benighted in your own decision. My people are known in your tongue as sylphs or spirits of the wind and air. You have met my cousin of the waters, we are like unto her folk, save in inhabiting the air. Have I frightened you from the side of your former lord?"

He nodded to himself and smiled, "nay lady, you are not a folk of evil mien, nothing else would keep me from your service."

She cautioned him, "do not say my folk are not so, we like men and all reasoning folk, may choose to serve the ill or the good, to be mean or great of heart. There are villains among the fey as there are among men. Well?"

He knelt before her and said, "lady, you have proven your own greatness of heart, let it be to me as you have spoken. I swear this day to serve you both, as long as you will have me."

She placed her hand upon his bowed head as if in blessing, and said, "rise, faithful heart, and be not parted from your master or his lady until it pleases thee."

As he rose, the breeze picked up and caught up leaves and petals in its airy grasp, sending them dancing and spinning about the three, who exchanged a wondering look and were themselves lost to sight as they joined in the dance of the rising wind.

" _In the Beginning was the Word...and I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that would be written."_

~The Gospel according to John~

Words, Words, Words...

With little orange feet, a comical waddling walk, slightly bulging eyes, a mournful voice, and arrayed in light grey feathers, thus equipped, did our heroine set forth on her adventures. She laughed wryly, even her mirth sounding woeful in the peculiar voice, who ever heard of such a heroine? In the tales, the heroes were always finding themselves cursed by truly respectable sorcerers who turned them into rocks, trees, monsters, old men, frogs, snakes, and any number of horrible or disgusting things. Of course those so cursed in the old stories always earned the wrath of their magical benefactors by accident of birth or interfering in some plot or in some other sensible way, not by accidentally stepping out in front of a speeding carriage and imperiling not only oneself but also the magician's haste and equipage.

Perhaps the old wizard had done her a favor in saving her life but was she doomed to spend the rest of her days garbed as the most innocuous of all fowl? A dove, a gentle, none too bright, unexciting, dove. She was neither fearsome nor hideous or even interesting. What was to be done? She was about to be trampled by those thundering horses but magic and instinct had combined to save her life, finding herself instantly in avian form, her birdish brain had ordered her feathered form aloft before she even realized her danger. But then the carriage had continued on in its haste and left her gaping after like the silly bird she was. Putting her wings to use, she pursued the coach and its occupant, hoping he might reverse the curse that now lay upon her.

She pondered these things as she flapped along, such hexes were always laid upon royal personalities or those of great virtue or wisdom or valor or destiny. She was a poor farmer's daughter of neither great virtue nor vice, unless a tendency to daydream could be counted as such, which had thus resulted in this travesty. Night was beginning to fall and she felt a great urge to seek out some hidden covert of the woods and tuck her head beneath her wing. She fought this strange instinct and hastened on after the lumbering carriage, whose horses were showing signs of the day's haste. At last it pulled up before a small inn and its occupant disembarked and entered the inn.

The dove blinked, this fell sorcerer seemed to be a rather plain looking, slouching fellow who was very shabbily dressed. She flew in the open door after him and perched among the rafters of the common room, to better study her prey. He made his request of the serving girl and sat himself down beside the fire. He ate and then went to bed, as if he were nothing more than a weary traveler. The dove escaped out an open window and found the man's carriage in the stableyard, intent on finding some place to secret herself within that she might confront the man on the morrow about her perplexing fate. At last, instinct could take over and she tucked her head peaceably beneath her wing.

She wakened early, as most birds do, and glanced hastily about, hoping it had all been a dream, but alas, she found herself unconsciously preening her feathers with an all too authentic beak for it to be anything but real. Finished with her morning grooming, she made sure her hiding place was secure and then impatiently awaited the wizard. Said magician soon gained his accustomed seat and the vehicle quickly rattled off. Once well on their way, again rushing off recklessly down the road, the dove emerged from her hidey hole and fluttered upon the vacant seat across from the mage. She blinked foolishly at him and he blinked just as foolishly at her. There seemed to be no recognition or understanding in the man's eyes. She had thought to find cunning and something a little uncanny in those eyes, but they were as guileless and insipid as those of any milk cow. She sighed and ruffled her feathers in frustration, who was this boy and where was the vile wizard that had laid this curse upon her? The boy stared at the bird with as little understanding and finally asked in hesitation, "what is all this about?"

The bird blinked in surprise, "all what?"

The boy stared in disbelief but not at the talking fowl but rather at its ignorance, "why this mad haste? Why the cryptic instructions? Where are we going? Why me?"

The dove cooed a mournful laugh, "I am afraid you have mistaken me for someone else. I was going to ask you questions of a similar nature. Come, tell me your own strange tale and I shall tell you mine."

The boy said, "this monstrous carriage drove into my village a few days ago and the coachman told me I had best get in. It then thundered off as if bandits were pursuing it and only stopped as darkness fell. The footman told me to go into the inn, order supper, and sleep the night. Such have I done for three days and never a word will either of my companions say to me than that I must either get in or go rest and sup!"

The dove told her own tale and then they stared at each other, neither having more of an answer but each glad for at least one companion on such an adventure. Said the boy at last, "I suppose there is nothing to do but get to journey's end and see what awaits us there."

"I suppose," sighed the dove.

After that, neither seemed much inclined to talk, each completely caught up in their own uneasy thoughts and what might lie at journey's end. They rattled on for three more days, each night alighting at a wayside inn for supper and sleep and then onwards, ever onwards, come morning. The boy took to saving some of his bread each night for the dove while she spent the entire journey in the coach. On the fourth day of their journey together, the forest without took on a decidedly darker feel and appearance. The wind moaned disconsolately, dull grey clouds lowered menacingly, and the temperature plummeted while a miserable drizzle began to fall. The trees might have been glowering old men, crooked and bent, darkly cloaked, and huddling along the roadside to glare repugnantly as the impudent coach drove past. The road became rutted, twisted, and barely wide enough to allow passage of the carriage; the very air seemed to tingle with menace and dread. The boy sighed, "my only consolation is that we are not forced to ride atop the vehicle in such weather or amongst such a wood." The dove fluffed her feathers in dismay and cooed her agreement.

As twilight darkened the perpetual gloom into complete blackness, the coach at last rattled to a stop and the door was thrown open. The coachman and footman stood on either side of the opening and glared at their passengers. The boy shuddered but silently descended from the coach and motioned for the dove to perch upon his shoulder. The moment he was out of the vehicle, both men hurried back to their posts and the carriage rattled off with all haste, leaving the boy and dove to exchange another uneasy look.

With nothing to do but stand perpetually in the grim night or move forward and see what awaited them, the lad took a step and then another. After an interminable journey through the sodden night along a barely discernable path, at last a great black shadow loomed out of the night before them. After a few moments, they realized it was a crumbling castle of black stone, as dark and grim as the forest in which it huddled. They exchanged another meaningful look and the boy entered the gaping gates. Not a torch nor a flicker of fire disturbed the gloom. They explored the sodden courtyard and collapsed stable but found nothing to either greet or alarm them. Shaking his head, the lad made for a small side door in the castle proper and turned the groaning handle, which sounded ominously loud in the otherwise tomblike silence. He shuddered and entered the Keep.

Both blinked in utter astonishment, for they had expected a dark corridor filled with dankness, fungi, and all sorts of hideous things crouching among the shadows, or perhaps even instant death or an abandoned and crumbling room, not a snug little library stuffed to overflowing with books with a crackling fire upon the hearth, a smug cat upon the rug, and a birdlike little man with wispy gray hair and half-moon spectacles smiling at them from a faded armchair. "You are come at last then," chirped the man, "very good, but I fear you have just missed tea, a pity that, but perhaps we can have an early supper."

Feeling something about to shift within her, the dove fluttered quickly to the floor and the next moment stood a rumpled peasant girl as ever she had been. Said she in complete wonder, "sir, who are you and why are we here?"

The man laughed and settled more deeply into his chair, his hands on his stomach, "you lady, I hope shall keep house for us while your flummoxed companion here is to be my apprentice."

The boy stuttered, "apprentice? Apprentice what? Sorcerer?"

The man laughed, "do not be silly lad, I go in for none of that vile magic stuff though there are enchantments enough surrounding us, it is none of my doing. Rather, you shall learn what it is to be the Keeper of the Library."

The boy gaped, "which Library?"

The man sighed in the long suffering of fools, "The Library." The pair stared at him blankly and he continued, "do you children know nothing about lore, legend, myth, or history?" They continued on agape and he resumed, "apparently not. This is the Library, the place where all of the wisdom of the ages before and yet to come resides. There is not a bad sonnet spouted by an illiterate peasant to his beloved that does not make it into the collection. It is here that heroes, wizards, kings, sages, and all seekers of knowledge and truth eventually come and here that they find their answers. We are the gatekeepers of that knowledge."

The girl frowned, "why such theatrics to bring us to this place? Why not just ask about and hire a sensible lad and servant girl as other people would?"

The man laughed heartily, "this is the Library lass, it does as it pleases and we are merely here to accomplish its whims. It does as it sees fit and who are we to argue? Of course you can refuse, but that would be silly indeed, for the Library does not choose vainly. Well?"

Too overwhelmed to speak or even think, the pair nodded in resignation and settled tiredly into a pair of nearby chairs, for they had nothing better to do at the moment. Perhaps once the initial shock wore off their minds would once more begin to function. Seeing how overwhelmed and tired they were, the bespectacled man took pity upon his guests and actually went through the tedious ordeal of preparing them a minor repast. They thanked him blankly, still too overcome to process much, but grateful for the simple but reviving fare. A little more rested and their hunger and thirst addressed, there was perhaps hope for a meaningful conversation.

Said the boy at last, "why do you need an apprentice sir? With all the other oddities about this place, I would not doubt that the Librarian here might not live forever."

The man replied with a chuckle, "you do have a head on your shoulders after all then lad? Very good, though I should have known as much, for the Library would not choose one so ill-fitted to this position. I am getting on in centuries, I have lived a very long time as you have assumed, but my heart is still mortal and I begin to grow weary of this existence. I feel very soon the time will come for me to see what else the world may hold for me, or perhaps to glimpse what lies beyond it. Either way, a replacement must soon be found. My poor wife wearied of this life not too long ago and retired from her service as lady of the place and I will soon follow after her. Thus a new housekeeper and Librarian are needed."

The girl had revived a bit and her usually ready wit, though still reeling with all that had happened, made itself known, said she, "why all the disguises, tricks, and diversions? Why the grim old fortress, the dour servants, the horrid forest, and the need to transform me into a dove?"

The man smiled in private amusement, as he polished his spectacles but looked into the girl's furious eyes but his smile only deepened, as he answered, "we cannot allow just anyone to come traipsing in here now can we? The Library feels the need to protect itself by various means to keep gawking tourists and nefarious villains alike at bay. Those who need what is here, will find it and those who don't are none the wiser. As to your altered persona, my lady, this is a respectable establishment attended by respectable people. As such, we cannot have an unmarried lass like yourself ensconced with an equally unmarried lad in a closed carriage for days on end, what would people think? Nay, you will either have to marry the lad or spend your time alone in his presence in a guise other than that of a maiden." She made a squawking sound very much like an enraged pigeon might, but he only shook his head and continued, "it is not my will lass but as the Library dictates. Neither need you remain against your will if the Rules are not satisfactory to you."

She sighed heavily and collapsed back in her chair like an old and tired woman, too overcome to do aught but think. The boy turned wary eyes upon the old Librarian and then glanced nervously at the lady, unsure what to make of this proclamation. The man laughed, "easy lad, it must be by mutual consent that you are wed, if you ever are. It was an agreeable arrangement with my own dear wife and perhaps the pair of you will make a go of it one day, but you need make no decisions now."

The girl had revived a bit and exchanged an incredulous gaze with her companion, before the lad asked, "who exactly founded the Library and who oversees it?"

The man shook his head, "the Library has always been and will always be, though perhaps not in the same shape or form; for wisdom and knowledge never die nor shall they pass from the realm of being though the earth perish and the stars themselves burn out. As to who oversees it, that is a silly question if ever I heard one, for the Library oversees itself and attends to its own needs and wellbeing most assiduously. We are merely its servants."

The boy shuddered, "it then has a will of its own?"

The man laughed heartily, "nay lad, it is not an entity per se, but rather an idea that is self-perpetuating and sustaining, set in motion by the same hand that sent the worlds spinning and maintained in like manner. The Library has no more will in and of itself than does the earth, but even so it functions as a living, growing being and throbs with the breath that called order out of chaos, light out of darkness. Here is Wisdom and Truth, the source of all real power and we are its humble guardians." The man turned gentle, laughing eyes upon the flummoxed younglings and ordered them both to bed, knowing their exhaustion and wonder would impede any further understanding this night. They hastened to comply and were soon lost in grateful sleep. Once the youngsters were abed, the man stood, staring thoughtfully into the fire, his pipe between his teeth, and he said quietly to the dozing cat, "was I that clueless when first I came here?" The beast smiled knowingly and the man grinned wryly around his pipe stem.

Morning found them again in the snug sitting room with their host in his usual chair. He harried the girl off to the kitchen to see to their breakfast while he stood and motioned for the boy to follow him on a brief tour. There was not much to see, at least not at the moment. There were the three bedchambers, the number changed according to the needs of the Library's guests and servants, the kitchen where the girl puttered about as if she had known the place all her life, and the book filled sitting room. The boy turned a startled gaze on his host, "what is this? This huge castle has so small an interior?"

The man laughed merrily, "what you saw on the outside is certainly not the true exterior of the Library, if it has one, rather it was a vision to keep out unwary and unwanted company. As to the interior, whole worlds might be lost in a forgotten closet while this snug little room contains all the knowledge of the ages before and yet to come. Don't let your eyes deceive you, it is as big or small as it needs to be at the moment. When you need a certain book it will be given and when unneeded you won't need to dust it, worry about mold destroying it, or have it needlessly lying about underfoot. Think how much trouble it will save that dear girl if she need not maintain an entire castle on her own!"

The boy nodded, still not comprehending the bizarre physics of this place outside of Time and Space as he once knew them; he asked, "and what is it the Librarian does? I assume you don't spend all your time copying old manuscripts or chasing about the world for new bits of wisdom?"

"Very good lad," laughed the man warmly as they took a seat at the old battered table in the homely kitchen, "the Library does all its own literary housekeeping. The Librarian's job is to act as intercessor between the Collection and those come to seek its Wisdom." The boy nodded, more and more eager to see what strange story he had suddenly found himself in the midst of. The girl listened with interest as she set their food on the table.

Said she without preamble, well recovered from the shock of the previous evening, "what of me? Must I scrub pots and floors whilst he is spared slaving over old manuscripts with a dull quill and poor light?"

The Librarian grinned quite mischievously for a man of his age and position, said he, "nay lass, that answer you already know."

She smiled warmly at him then, her mock glare vanishing in their shared joke, said she, "aye, true enough. The pantry is full of eggs I did not gather, vegetables I did not raise, wood I never cut, and the pots as clean as the day they were made though I have used them this very morning."

Said the older man, quite content, "it is not a bad existence, not in the least and the Library would not have called you into this service were you not exactly suited for it. Will you stay?"

The pair exchanged an eager grin and then each nodded firmly at the old man, whose eyes glowed with pure delight. "Very well," said he, "then I shall be off then."

The boy gaped, "but I thought I needed to complete my apprenticeship!"

The man laughed, "you just did. You understand and anything you don't yet know will come when needed. You will do well, both of you. Remember what I said about getting married, it will prove rather inconvenient for the lady until you can arrange matters properly. Fare you well!" With that, he took up his pipe and wandered out the back kitchen door and into whatever fate awaited him thence. The remaining pair exchanged a stymied look, but knew he had the right of it.

And then the girl was again a dove and she sighed in consternation, "this will never do! How am I to accomplish anything, save perhaps dusting, garbed like this?"

The lad grinned impishly, "is that a marriage proposal then, my lady?"

The bird turned plaintive eyes upon the new Librarian, "I suppose it is. At least it will make things far less awkward around here." The lad smiled and the next moment there came a knocking upon the sitting room door. They exchanged a startled look and the lad hastened to answer. A rather perplexed man in clerical robes stood upon the doorstep and blinked at the young man who answered his summons. The boy ushered him in as he blinked all the more to find himself in such a place when he had been knocking upon the crumbling door of a ramshackle hovel.

Said the man rather tentatively, "you have need of me?"

The lady, a maiden once more, smiled and said, "we wish to be wed good sir."

The man nodded, still rather perplexed, but wasted no time in fulfilling their wishes. Said he in reply when asked to stay for a celebratory luncheon, "I am sorry, but I have other duties to be about this day, I really must be going, but I wish you all the best. Whoever you are!"

They saw him to the door and he hastened from that place, not sure even where or when he had been, only that he had felt a great urgency to attend to some business or other in that derelict cottage only to find himself in a stonewalled sitting room that might have lurked in a great lord's keep, the two occupants were dressed strangely, as peasants might two hundred years ago in a distant country remembered now only in old tales. He shook his head and hurried on his way, inexplicably content with his day's business. The newly wedded pair watched him go with a knowing smile, shut the door, and returned to the Library's business.

So passed many a year, or perhaps none at all. The Lady kept house and catered to the needs of their many and varied guests. The Keeper helped said guests find the knowledge that was vital to their immediate quest. And they dwell there still, or perhaps their heirs if they have grown weary of the timeless years, ever waiting to aid those who come to that place of All Wisdom in search of what can be found nowhere else. The cat still sits upon the hearthrug, smiling smugly, and knowing far too much. And even after time itself has passed out of memory and all the worlds are changed, still will the Library wait to avail itself to any soul in need and none can come away unchanged.

I do not like thee, Doctor Fell,

The reason why I cannot tell;

But this I know, and know full well,

I do not like thee Doctor Fell.

~Nursery Rhyme~

The Reason Why

They called him _The Dreadful Doctor_ in later years, but once men knew him as Doctor Fell, perhaps this unfortunate coincidence in naming contributed to the disquiet rumors concerning this now infamous man, whose name is now whispered in grim and insinuating tones. No one now living knows the truth, whether he is deserving of such infamy or not, but what does that matter as long as the story is interesting and becomes more so with each telling? For certainly sensation is more important than truth and the most horrid rumor must surely have a grain of veracity at its core?

There was once a little village where flowers bloomed in spring and the leaves were the most fantastic shades of crimson and gold come autumn; it was quite a neat and pretty hamlet, the perfect setting for such a story as this. In this picturesque town there dwelt a physician, as trim and tidy as even the most persnickety of the townsfolk could demand. He was a gentleman in his fading years, not great of stature but with a midriff that one day might be quite remarkable if properly cultivated; he wore round spectacles and had a curious habit of cocking his head as he listened intently to his patient's complaint, much like a bird studying the ground in search of a worm. His name was Fell, a strange moniker but certainly congenital and likely a result of heredity, as his father had borne the malady in his day, but despite this failing, he was an affable old gentleman and proficient in his trade. Besides his name, his only other flaw was the egregious habit of charging for his services, which none of his patients could quite understand, as he did a great service to his community and therefore his time and talents should be at their disposal and free of charge. It was quite monstrous that he would gouge his friends and neighbors solely to support his uncouth habit of eating and maintaining a quite unnecessary domicile.

Despite his uncanny tendency to ask for remuneration for his services, the good doctor was not stingy or unfeeling in his dealings with those of lesser means, often charging little or nothing to those who could not afford his services. It was only those who could afford his services and felt disinclined to actually pay for them that saw him as an unprincipled and heartless miser and whispered their dissatisfaction upon this point far and wide. The son of one such discontent, a rather prosperous merchant, approached the estimable doctor one day and asked boldly of his venerable elder, "is it true sir, that you are such a heartless wretch as to demand payment up front, from even the poorest soul, else you will refuse to even listen to their pleas and are thus willing to let them die without succor?"

The good doctor blinked once, looking strangely like a flummoxed sheep, made a noise that might have been either snort or laugh, adjusted his spectacles, and said in mild reproof, "who is it that has taught you to talk to your elders in such a fashion young man?"

The impertinent whelp, his pride smarting sorely from this rather minor admonition, said scornfully, "avoiding the question are we? So it is true!" The old gentleman shook his head in wonder and bid the discourteous fellow good day before waddling sedately away, musing to himself on the rudeness of today's youth. The boy ran to find his friends and immediately told the fabulous story, which they carried home to their own families and soon many strange and preposterous tales were circulating around the village.

Most of the goodhearted citizens held the doctor in high esteem and little heeded the mutterings of their less charitable neighbors, but the various visitors and travelers that passed through the village and some of the distant relations of the more gullible townsfolk soon heard the tales and eagerly passed them on. So it was that the unwitting doctor's fame or rather infamy, grew as he calmly went about his rounds. Each telling became more fantastic than the last and eventually a truly hideous tale reached the very ears of the King, who dispatched a man to investigate the grim tales of a physician so foul that he refused to treat any but the richest of clients and fed the wasted remains of those unfortunates he refused to treat to his pigs.

The man sent to investigate the veracity of this reprehensible tale was a young man of middling wealth and the second son of a minor noble, quite skilled in the use of both his sword and mind: a rare combination in any age. He garbed himself as the most wretched of beggars and entered the village in question at twilight. He coughed violently and seemed to shake with weakness. The pathetic creature drew disdainful looks from the few villagers yet abroad, thinking such a scoundrel had no place in their prim little hamlet. The faux wretch approached the inn but was soon driven from its confines by the distraught host who could not countenance such a guest, though he was obviously in desperate need of shelter from the coming night. As the bullyboy hustled the unfortunate from the establishment, the man choked out, "is there a doctor hereabouts?"

The minion laughed heartlessly, "certainly, but he won't be bothered by the likes of you, but if you must know, he lives just outside of town." The beggar was tossed into the street and limped off in the direction of the infamous physician; the rough shook his head but smirked maliciously after the wretch before returning to the warm and cheerful common room.

The noble youth stood outside the indicated house for some minutes, studying it in detail. At least the fiend in question did not seem to own any swine. He then approached the door and knocked feebly, trying to look the decrepit invalid huddling miserably within his tattered cloak against the chill of the night. A rotund sleepy man in his dressing gown, holding a candle aloft, answered the summons and quickly took in the pathetic scene upon his doorstep and leapt into action, or as close to leaping as such a man ever comes. He hastened the fellow into the house, fetched him hot tea and a bit of supper, wrapped him in whatever cloaks and blankets came easily to hand, and only after the man was comfortable did the sinister doctor ask if his visitor would like an examination and possible treatment of whatever ailed him. At this, the wretched creature magically acquired health and vitality and shed twenty years while donning a vastly amused smile. Doctor Fell watched this stunning transformation and was quickly apprised of the reason for this incongruous visit. They shared a hearty laugh and a night of delightful conversation followed, so good in fact that they remained dear friends for the rest of their lives.

The man returned to the King with his report of the infamous physician and shared in the King's rightful mirth, but just because the King was satisfied did not mean that other tongues would cease their wagging, and soon the legend of Doctor Fell grew to such proportions that no one could now recognize the horrendous villain that was the unassuming country doctor of that pleasant little village and many wondered at the unfortunate coincidence of their sharing a now infamous name. So Doctor Fell continued to practice for many long years, perhaps silently amused by tales of the dreadful villain who purportedly shared his name and was no doubt asked quite often if they might not be related.

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been

Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth,

Tasting of Flora and the country green,

Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!

O for a beaker full of the warm South,

Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,

With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,

And purple-stained mouth;

That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,

And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!

No hungry generations tread thee down;

The voice I hear this passing night was heard

In ancient days by emperor and clown:

Perhaps the self-same song that found a path

Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,

She stood in tears amid the alien corn;

The same that oft-times hath

Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam

Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

~John Keats, 'Ode to a Nightingale'~

Forbidden Draught

There once was a pretty and prosperous village, whose residents prided themselves on their thrift and frugality to such a point that the local craftsmen had a very difficult time making a living, for only on rare occasions would someone actually purchase something new. So it was with the local shoemaker and his daughter, for their neighbors literally wore their shoes until they fell apart and then had them mended time and again until there was nothing left to mend. Thankfully the village was as lovely as its residents were parsimonious, which proved the salvation of the local economy, for many were the tourists who came to enjoy the bucolic beauty of the place. One such visitor, who came year after year and was undoubtedly well to do, was the means by which the cobbler and his daughter escaped starvation, for he always bought a new pair of boots on each visit and such was his taste that no ordinary, sensible, and economical pair of boots would do; he demanded the best, paid well for it, and was quite grateful to the supplier thereof. So it was that one young man's generosity supplied the wants and needs of the little family for an entire year. But he had not yet made his yearly pilgrimage when tragedy struck.

The cobbler took ill and succumbed very quickly to the disease, leaving his daughter alone in the world, save for the irate landlord who demanded payment of the yearly rent the moment the funeral was over. The grief-stricken girl was silent in despair, for there was no money to buy food for the morrow, let alone for the year's rent. What was she to do? The landlord, the most stingy man in a village of renowned misers, said gruffly, "you can't pay the rent?" She stared up at him bleakly and he saw his answer in her tear-filled, terrified eyes. "Very well," said he, "get you gone. And don't bother going back to the house for anything as I'll have to sell everything and hope to make back even a little of what you owe." Her whole body convulsed in a sob, she covered her face with her hands, and dashed blindly from the graveyard. The man stared after, wondering if all women were so flighty and was grateful he had never married, which was probably the greatest service he had ever done for womankind.

She knew not where she ran, until strong arms embraced her and a warm voice said, "Erin! Whatever is the matter?" She flung herself into the arms of her friend and wept bitterly, finally exhausted, she looked up meekly into the eyes of her comforter. Diana's eyes held nothing but concern and compassion as she asked again, "I know your father has just died, but what new grief has added to your misery?" The girl wept out her interview with the landlord and that good lady smiled grimly, "he would do such a thing and at such a time! Alas that I cannot be of aid, my poor, pitiful darling!"

The girl looked at her with haunted eyes, "but I had hoped to come to you in my plight! I would not stay long or be any bother, but I have nowhere else to go!"

The woman shook her head sadly, "alas, but I am summoned to the royal palace and there to take my place as lady's maid to the new Princess! I dare not disobey such an order nor can I take you with me."

Erin frowned, "how is it they have sought you out above all women in the country?"

The lady shook her head in wonder, "that I do not know, but it is rumored the Prince shall wed within the week and his lady's affairs must be put in order with all speed. I only received word this very morning! This great coach pulled up and the servants and guardsmen were adamant that I accompany them immediately, but I would not miss your father's funeral nor could I abandon you in your plight."

The girl finally noticed the great carriage waiting for her friend to ascend, with the proud, liveried figures upon it, waiting impatiently for the woman to finish her business that they might finally be on their way. The girl fell again upon her friend's shoulder and wept at this bitter parting, for she had no one else in the village to whom she could go and no other friends beside this dear woman. Diana held her close and wept her own tears of farewell, wishing with all her heart that she might do something to help her beleaguered companion, but she must soon away and she had nothing to give the poor stricken girl, but her compassion.

Erin finally gained a tenuous grip on her sensibilities as she said, "I wish you well, dear friend." She smiled weakly, "and I know you would give your own life for mine were you able, but such cannot be." Diana smiled wretchedly, her heart near to breaking, but allowed the servant to hand her into the waiting vehicle, which immediately left with a thunder of hooves and a clatter of wheels once the long delayed lady was within. Erin watched it drive off and wondered if she had aught else to lose this day. She knew her friend had to go, her father would insist upon it if those in power within the Kingdom had not.

The poor girl's father was almost as stingy as Erin's former landlord and allowed his daughter nothing to call her own, she did not even have a penny to give her impoverished friend upon their parting and he certainly would not help her desperate friend. He had never liked their friendship, but since it cost him nothing, he turned a blind eye to the matter, but he would not burden himself with his daughter's castoff friend now that the girl had found herself so agreeable a position. Erin sighed heavily and turned her back on the home that was no longer hers; head and shoulders bowed in misery and grief, she trudged into the surrounding forest as the sun vanished behind the distant hills.

The next morning found a certain young man in the village but it was not boots that had brought him thence this year, but rather the gentle and comely daughter of his annual footwear supplier. The young prince was aghast to hear that the cobbler had died of late, his shop and house had been repossessed, and his daughter had hied herself into the woods as none of the villagefolk felt it their duty to aid the poor girl. It was his dearest wish to have the girl to wife that he might raise her and her estimable father out of poverty and ignominy, but alas, he had come too late! It was his order that had sent the carriage to fetch away her only friend, that they might soon be reunited in far greater joy, but what wretched timing that he had carried away her only comfort in her hour of greatest need! He sighed deeply, checked that his sword and dagger were firm in their places, and flung himself into the saddle, intent on pursuing the woman he had so inadvertently and grievously wounded. He smiled, it was just like something in one of the old stories. He sobered and hoped that the worst he would face in those grim woods was merely a weary and grief-stricken young lady.

There was but one path through the woods and the prince was a good tracker, so did not despair of finding the wandering maid until night found him unsuccessful in his quest. He sat down upon a great stone beside a rushing stream while his horse greedily slacked its thirst, his head in his hands, racking his mind for any clue as to whither the maid might have fled, but he had seen no clue that she had turned off the main road.

"You'll never find her," came a knowing voice above him. He looked up in astonishment into the too knowing eyes of a magpie. The bird blinked slowly, as if a talking bird were nothing out of the ordinary, and then continued, "the elfin folk came upon her in her distress and much did they pity her. She went off with them and never more shall mortal man look upon her."

He stared at the bird in dread, "but can nothing be done?"

The bird shrugged, "why not just go back to your castle and live happily ever after? Why all this trouble? Are there not other ladies who might please you just as well?"

The prince said grimly, "if she is happy with her fate, I must leave her to it, but I will not rest until I have spoken with her, and rescued her if need be. I will not be content to go home and abandon her thus. I have inadvertently made her plight worse and I will not leave her in misery if it is within my power to prevent it."

The magpie ruffled up his feathers and said, "then you must go to the Elf Queen and beg your lady's release, but know that no mortal man has looked upon her and lived. You may buy her freedom, but only with your life."

The prince was silent for a moment in thought, but nodded firmly and said, "it will be as it must." The bird told him what he must do, took wing, and vanished into the darkness. The prince mounted his horse and rode off, deep in thought.

As the moon sank, the stars grew bright overhead and the Prince did as the bird had bidden him, standing beside a certain pool in the starlight and waiting patiently. All the expanse of heaven seemed mirrored in the pool before him and at a certain hour, the water parted, like two ebony curtains studded with diamonds suddenly drawn aside. A descending staircase of white marble shone before him like the noon sun on new fallen snow; he swallowed hard and vanished down the stairway. The way he had come was swallowed up anew by the night dark water and there was no way to go but forward. He wandered through endless shining corridors of white marble, cold and austere, until at last he came upon a creature of one of the elfin races. The elf was clad as a servant or page, resplendent in white and silver, he started when he saw a mortal boy wandering their sacred halls unattended.

Said the boy without preamble, as the bird had advised, "I would see your Queen." The page flinched again in astonishment, but said nothing and motioned for the lad to follow. The Prince smiled wryly to himself but wasted no time in hastening after.

They wandered again down more colorless and brilliant passages of cold stone until they came to ornately carved doors of white wood that opened of themselves. The page bowed the man into the room and hastened away. The boy entered as confidently as he could and the door closed behind him. He found himself in a great chamber of the same cold marble and looked upon what might have been the Queen of Winter, for a frigidly beautiful woman of elfkind sat upon a white marble throne, draped all in white and silver raiment. Her eyes were a pale icy blue and her lips the barest hint of pink, as predawn on a midwinter's morn; her hair was so light it was almost white. Said she without question or surprise, "welcome child of men, what great boon would you ask of me that it is worth your very life?"

The boy bowed politely and said, "I have come in search of a certain young woman of mortal stock and was told she was taken in by your people."

A slight smile, though containing neither joy nor mirth, touched her pallid lips, "and what would you have of me or of this girl, oh bold one?"

Said he, "I would know that she is well, that she is happy with her fate, and if not, what may be done to rectify the matter."

Asked she, at last a little curious, "you do not seek her freedom that you might have her for yourself?"

Said the lad quietly, "in knowing the price I must pay to even inquire of her, lady, I knew such could never be. I set out in search of the lady for that very reason, but find that at the last it can never be. I suffice myself in knowing that she is content and perhaps one day may know joy again after all her great grief."

The lady raised an eyebrow, "does she know of your pursuit?"

The boy shook his head, "nay lady, and I would not have her so, she has suffered grief enough, let not my plight add to her sorrow."

"Well spoken," said the frigid Queen, "you may know that she is well, at least she has a place, a duty, and that which she needs for daily life, but as to such things as joy, happiness, contentment, and the like, that I doubt she shall ever know or find amongst us. For we know not such things ourselves." A small, rueful smile touched her lips, "in this I envy you mortals, that your grief and sorrow are but for a season and then you pass beyond memory and knowledge into whatever lies beyond. We however, must linger on as long as time lasts with our regrets and sorrows and griefs. We have no hope of brighter days ahead, for all our glory lies in the distant mists of the past. Thus do we linger on without hope, joy, or even laughter to break the monotony, and only looking upon our past joys brings us any pleasure, but in so doing we also must remember too the years of pain and sorrow therein. All our songs are laments and dirges, our tales of faded glories, and our future as cold and featureless as our halls. Your lady will not find joy here, but she can find a numb acceptance of her grief, a duty to fill her days, and food and shelter as she has need."

Said the boy quietly, "such is a fate worse than death lady, at least to my fickle mind. For it seems you do not live, but rather exist in the shadow of grief, death, and sorrow, looking wistfully to the drab grey light of the past for what comfort you may, but such an existence cannot be called life! Can I somehow free the lady, even living with her grief and sorrow must be better than this, for someday the pain will be less acute and other joys shall come to brighten her days. To live in such numbness of heart until death is no life for my kind! My fate is far kinder by comparison."

"What would you have me do?" asked the Queen haughtily, for she did not like this mortal imp saying things of her people that she knew all too well to be the truth, "she is not a prisoner but rather a refugee, one whom my people found wandering in the wood and took pity upon. She spends her days scrubbing our brilliant halls and seems content therein, but she may go if it is her wish. But where would she go? What comfort is there in her grief? What future in a world that cast her out?"

Said the Prince, "I will write a letter to my father, a King among men, and let it be given into her keeping. He will see that she finds a place again among men and there is a dear friend awaiting her there who can do much to comfort her in her grief. My horse waits beside a starry pool by which I entered your realm, let her take him and ride whither she would."

The lady said, "very well, it will not burden us over much to do as you ask. She has not looked upon me, so she might yet walk freely under the mortal sun." Her smile turned grim, "but you shall not." At her words, a guard entered the hall by a means unseen, and she said to him, "allow this boy to write his letter, tell the girl that she is free to go if she would, and then escort our guest to his fate." The guard bowed deeply and escorted the boy from the Queen's presence.

The Prince was given paper and silver ink and quickly wrote to his father, asking that he treat the lady as he might the Princess she might have been. He then mentioned his own dire fate and that it was of his own choosing, but that the lady should never know nor any rescue be attempted. The guard took the missive, but left the boy in a narrow corridor that had openings looking down upon a lower level where the girl was busy polishing the shining halls. She looked up in surprise to be so approached by one of her usually distant hosts and listened in astonishment to his words.

Tears of joy and grief mingled in her eyes and for the first time in remembrance, for mortals easily forget the outer world in that place, she felt her heart stirring within her. She gladly accepted the offer and the letter, fully intent on leaving the tomb in which she had unwittingly interred herself and her grief. The guard told her how to find the waiting horse and gave her directions as to delivering her letter into the hands of the mortal King. She smiled joyously at him, he shook his head in perplexity, and then she dashed off upon her adventure. The boy watched from the alcove above and was heartened by the girl's response. The guard motioned for the boy to come down once the girl was gone. He descended and the guard led him away.

The Queen sat on her throne, a cup brimful of red liquid in her hand, the only color that had entered those white halls in living memory; she stared at the fluid curiously, as if not quite sure what to do with it. A magpie suddenly perched upon the back of the throne above her shoulder, but she did not seem surprised, said he, "are you really going to go through with this?"

She shrugged and a look of annoyance crossed her beautiful face, "my people have lost all sense of joy, love, hope, and contentment. All we have is bitter memory and dull monotony. This at least might prove a source of momentary relief."

The bird shook his head, "you cannot drown your sorrows thus."

She smiled grimly, "no, but perhaps I can forget them for a moment. As the blood of grapes can remind one of lost summers, if only for a few moments, why can I not do the same with this? He came willing, his sacrifice was not in vain, at least as he saw it, why let it go to waste?" She laughed bitterly, "so much for happily ever after!" mocked she, raising the cup to her lips.

The bird ruffled his feathers in agitation, but said, "but there is a happily ever after and he has found it! It does not lie in the dust of the past nor in the sordid glories of the present nor even in dreams of the future, but rather beyond it. Your people have shunned that starry path and all joy with it; he has dared to tread it and will not be disappointed." He cocked his head, "it is not too late."

She set the cup down with a remorseful sigh and wiped her lips, as if she hoped the moment could last longer. She looked upon her avian interlocutor with annoyance, "be gone, I know what it is we have lost and also what we have gained. We will not be slaves again. Our freedom came at a cost and we are willing to pay it."

The bird shook his head, "so too was the boy, but he has truly attained that which you only think you have." And then he vanished.

' _How many miles to Babylon?'_

' _Three score miles and ten.'_

' _Can I get there by candlelight?'_

' _Yes, and back again._

If your heels are nimble and light,

You may get there by candlelight.'

~Nursery Rhyme~

By Candlelight

A single candle guttered fretfully on the bedside table, little noticed by either the grief stricken old dame in the chair with her careworn face in her hands or the silent, wan figure in the bed. The little girl fought for her life against a fever that had already claimed countless victims down through the ages while the old woman's whole world flickered on the brink of extinction like the forgotten candle, for the child was all she had left of kith or kin and this night would either end her struggles permanently or see the dawn of a brighter morning. So did the girl wander in troublous dream while her grandmother fervently prayed that some miracle might yet spare the stricken child.

The little girl was warm, oh so warm, she sat up in bed and stared longingly out the window into the cool of an autumn night, but terrified of the darkness, she took up the candle before she hastened out into the refreshing breeze that whispered of winter's coming. She danced gaily down the fieldstone walk her great grandfather had laid down for his new bride so many long years ago, rejoicing in her freedom after so many days abed, afflicted with fever, delirium, and pain. Her merry laughter was echoed back by the bright stars, her dear friends since first she thought to name them. A gentle path wound leisurely through the tame wood that surrounded her grandmother's small cottage and she thought what a joy it must be to tread it in the mysterious shadows of moon and creeping mist. She turned her steps thither and was soon lost amongst the swaying shadows of bare limbed trees. She skipped down the familiar path, now turned fey with moonlight, mist, and dancing shadows, singing as merrily as a skylark on the wing with only her candle for company.

How long or far she traveled, she did not know, but the world was now utterly strange about her. The mist had thickened and glowed slightly in the starlight, for the very stars were odd, gleaming in peculiar brilliance and number in their courses above. The trees were far fewer in number and widely scattered, but of such beauty and stature, height and girth, that she felt this wood was planted at the dawning of the world. There was a feel in the air, an imperceptible song that trembled with Joy itself. The old year was dying, but in this strange wood, she was certain it was always Spring. She stopped and gazed about her in awe and wonder, her very being quivering in delight just to exist in this marvelous place. She wondered if she had strayed into one of the outer provinces of a lost country of the fairyfolk.

When a unicorn stepped out of the luminous mist and greeted her by name, she was in nowise surprised, rather had a common rabbit hopped across her path she would truly have been astounded. For here she felt sure only dwelt that which was never seen by the light of common stars. She smiled upon the wondrous creature and walked along beside him, discussing all the questions and mysteries of the ages before and yet to come, her childish mind strangely capable of understanding all his wise and beautiful speech. So did they wander until dawn hinted at her coming, but the girl thought that should she witness the imminent morn, never again could things be what they once were. They stopped then on a hill, overlooking a little cottage that huddled forlornly in the dull grey of the predawn, mist shrouding it like a pall. Behind them, a bright and golden path led onward into an eternal morning.

Said the creature quietly, "will you descend or will you arise and go?"

The candle was now burning low and she knew she would never need it more upon that wondrous path, but perhaps her grandmother sat alone in the dark and wondered what had come of her. She sighed heavily and looked into the fathomless eyes of her companion, asked she, "must I return?"

He smiled slightly, knowing the burning ache to go that fretted like some trapped wild thing in her heart, but said he quietly, "the choice is yours child. The time of parting is upon you, but there is one that begs that it might be deferred a little while."

The child looked gravely at her candle and then upon the sad little cottage in the dell below. She smiled sadly up at her companion and said, "I had best return the light to poor, dear grandmama, that she not linger on alone in darkness and fear."

He nodded and said quietly, "I will await you here."

She was about to ask how long he might wait and knew that he would bide there for all eternity if he must. Her smile deepened and her heart grew firm in its resolve as she descended the hill and bore the sputtering candle back home.

The candle on the bedside table finally went out, fully spent, but the sun peeped in the window and chased away the night's lingering shadows. The child on the bed stirred and the woman by her side looked up from her grievous dreams. The girl sat up and smiled wondrously at the old matron, saying, "I have brought back your light grandmama!"

The old woman smiled in relief and greatest joy, "that you have my darling, that you have!"

" _So they took it away, and were married next day_

by the Turkey who lives on the hill.

They dined upon mince, and slices of quince,

Which they ate with a runcible spoon;

And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,

They danced by the light of the moon."

~Edward Lear, 'The Owl and the Pussycat,'~

And Other Nonsense

Crystal was a princess, and like all princesses she was indeed beautiful and rich, but not much else could be said for her, though for most people nothing else mattered so they at least were content. But Crystal was not content, she was bored and empty though she had everything royal heart could desire from splendid clothing to lavish entertainments to the company of any named person in the known world, should she wish it. She wished it, she wished something indeed, but she did not know what 'it' was, only that nothing seemed to satisfy; it was as if the whole world and all therein had the character of a grim, dreary day in the late fall after all the color, warmth, and cheer had fled the countryside in dread of the coming winter leaving only dull grey clouds lowering overhead, lifeless brown earth underfoot, and a bitter wind moaning in the chimney for summer lost. But such was not the character of either wind or weather, for it was late spring and the birds sang in their varied choruses, the garden was a tapestry of bud and bloom, and joyous was the sun treading the depthless blue of the heavens. Crystal looked at it all, turned from her window with a heavy sigh, and glanced disconsolately at all the books, baubles, trinkets, and wonders that littered her chambers but found no joy therein either.

With idle indifference, she took up a colorful tome from the uninteresting heap and glanced carelessly through the pages, feeling no point in the effort but ill at ease doing nothing at all. Finally, her unconscious perusal of the book brought her attention to bear for a moment upon that which she was doing, grateful for even a short escape from her dull and tedious thoughts, she focused her full attention on the pages before her. She smiled in spite of herself, for a moment recapturing the joy and wonder those tales had held for her when she was a wee mite upon her father's knee and she knew nothing about being a Princess. People in those stories were always going out and having adventures or having such thrust upon them, there must certainly be some meaning and interest in an adventure, perhaps she ought to have one. She frowned, how did one go about having an adventure when one was a Princess, certainly no one would approve of her involvement in anything that might somehow be construed as even remotely dangerous, or worse, dirty? She smiled eagerly, then she would just have to quit being a Princess.

She called one of her handmaids to her immediately and told the girl of her grand scheme; the poor creature could only tremble in dread and terror until the Princess assured her that she would see that the servant was not held responsible for whatever was to come. With this promise, the girl began to listen more eagerly to her mistress and soon shared in her excitement as her plans unfurled. Of all the Princess' many servants and handmaids, this dear girl was the only one with a true and noble heart, the rest were merely seeking their own advantage in the position and were ever fawning over their mistress.

Claire was not a bold creature, but she never gave false praise nor shirked in her duties, but always carried them out with sincere diligence and eagerness, and would have spoken only the truth to her mistress if ever she had deigned to ask her opinion on anything. This odd behavior soon drew the Princess' curiosity and long had she tried to puzzle out what was so strange about this particular lady-in-waiting, though she was still no closer to understanding the peculiar servant she somehow knew that of all her minions, this girl was most to be trusted. Perhaps a more prudent servant would have quickly carried word to the King of her mistress' plans, but Claire was truehearted to her mistress even if she were not as wise as some might hope. The girl quickly agreed to aid and abet her lady, and great was her rejoicing to see that her mistress was finding interest in life at last, little thinking of the danger that might await her lady upon such a journey.

The Princess announced to everyone that she would be taking a grand tour of the world in search of a prospective husband, which greatly excited her parents, as they hoped it meant the floundering child was at last taking an interest in life, as she had not in some years. Her retainers were eager to see who would accompany her, each eager for the honor, but alas, only the least of her maids was to go with. The Royal parents did not find this part of the plan at all acceptable, which her juvenile majesty had anticipated, so allowed her parents to send an escort of four guards with her, thus satisfying their need to feel helpful in said plan. The next morning, the little entourage set out in a most satisfactory fashion, the ladies ensconced in the second best carriage and the guards riding ahead and behind as escort with a reliable though aged pair of servants to serve as footman and driver of the coach. Said Crystal to Claire, after they were safely away from the city and the noise of the carriage covered their quiet conversation, "how long have you been in my service?"

Claire thought for a moment, "five years, Majesty."

Said the Princess eagerly, "and have you learned well the ways of the court and nobility in all that time?"

Claire's eyes were wide with dread as she began to realize what her mistress might intend but she replied, "yes, Majesty."

"Good," said the Princess, "for it will soon be time to make my escape. We shall travel together as we ought until we reach the first large town outside the Kingdom and there we shall stop for the night. Upon that morrow, we shall acquire a girl to act as Lady's maid to the Princess, only you shall don my clothes and play the part of Royalty and I shall become the seasoned handmaid. Once the girl is duly impressed with your royal heritage, you shall find some fickle excuse and dismiss me from your service. We shall go about veiled so that our dear retainers know not that they are unwittingly a part of my subterfuge. You and your new maid shall travel about from Kingdom to Kingdom and act the Princess. After a year of such travel or should you acquire a royal spouse, then let the charade end and live out the rest of your days in joy."

Claire paled, "but Majesty! Are you never to return? Am I to take your place forever?"

Crystal looked out the window with eyes that saw something beyond sight, "I will not be returning to my former place. I left a sealed letter with the Steward and he will open it upon your return or one year hence explaining everything. I have other siblings who might assume the throne so you need not worry over that. Should you attract the attentions of a royal personage, I have left instructions for my family to proclaim you a true princess. If you do not, I have also left word that they should treat you well all the rest of your days in reward for your faithful service to me. I may return one day to visit my folk, but I cannot do so in royal guise. My future lies elsewhere from such a rich though vapid existence."

Claire began to cry, "do not leave your faithful servant, lady!"

Crystal shook her head but smiled sadly, "it seems I do have one true friend, but alas, dear one, we must be sundered."

Claire nodded pitifully but a look of resignation and acceptance was in her eyes. They continued on as the Princess had foretold. The girl was thus acquired and taught that Claire was the Princess and Crystal the servant; both princess and handmaid had much to learn about their new roles before they reached their first official stop in the neighboring Kingdom, but Claire was determined not to fail her mistress and soon learned that which she must. Sadly however, Crystal proved an all too poor hand at feigned servitude and her mistress was forced to send her packing before the coach arrived safely at its destination. The guards and servants said nothing, as it was a private matter between their mistress and her ladies. So it was that Crystal was left behind as the carriage rolled off towards the first stop on a year long tour of the Kingdoms of the known world. She was glad of the veil, knowing it hid her look of triumph and eagerness. Once the coach was out of sight, she gathered up her few belongings and went inside the inn where she had been abandoned by her once regal life.

She took a room, though it was very early in the day, and withdrew therein to hide from curious eyes. She changed into the plain but serviceable garments that would probably be her wardrobe for the rest of her life and carefully packed away her fine handmaid's garb. Her business finished, she sat on the bed and waited for the excitement of her burgeoning adventure to overwhelm her, but all she felt was an overpowering sense of dread and an aching loneliness which she never remembered from those silly stories. She sighed deeply, but smiled ruefully, at least her heart did not lie dead and disconsolate within her.

She was feeling something at least, though what, she was not at the moment sure, but it was a start. She was not exactly sure what to do with herself from now on, she had money enough to last for a year if she was careful, but eventually she would need to have a means of income. In the stories one always had something one was fleeing from or chasing after, or a man with a long beard and a pointy hat always emerged to give wisdom in the guise of a riddle at such moments, but Crystal was alone except for a little mouse in the corner searching about for crumbs. She smiled wistfully, wondering if her search was as futile as that of the wretched mouse.

Well, no sense sitting dolefully about and bemoaning what might or might not happen tomorrow when you could do something about today. She needed to eat something, to sleep well this night, and then do a bit of shopping to outfit herself for the mysterious life to come. And so she did. She took a quiet meal in the common room with no grimy but interesting persons making themselves known and at her service for her looming adventure. She slept as well as one might on a lumpy mattress in a vermin infested room on the eve of a major life change. Then she settled her bill after an unassuming breakfast and set out to do her shopping. She had never really been shopping before, in her Princess existence the seamstresses and hat makers came to her, but all that was about to change. She had observed her father and his interactions with various political rivals and had learned enough of such maneuverings that she thought she could take on the local fishmonger, at least assuming she was in the mood for fish. So she hastened out into the burgeoning day but there was nary a fishmonger in sight.

She settled for the local shop of random and necessary merchandise and set about making her purchases. Her smile became strained as she selected several very serviceable but hardly pretty dresses and a sensible pair of shoes to match; she had never owned a serviceable anything in her life! A little food, a waterskin, and a bag to carry it all rounded out her shopping spree and she set out ere noon upon the first dusty and rather warmish steps of her adventure.

Three days later, shivering and soaked to the skin, she huddled under a hedge along the road and wondered for the thousandth time what she had been thinking to leave it all behind. Apparently they left this little unpleasantness out of the stories, but any moment a handsome stranger would come along or some fairy in distress would appear and everything would be okay. No, better than okay, happily ever after! No one showed up that night, but as those annoying birds woke her from what little sleep she had managed, cold and miserable as she was, she heard the encouraging sound of carriage wheels approaching. Her heart sank, it was her own carriage come back for her. The guardsmen drew rein a little ahead of her and the carriage stopped beside the bedraggled waif. The servants and guards studiously did not look at her, save to alight and open the door for her convenience. With a resigned shrug, she entered the vehicle and it clattered off into the rising day. A relieved and rueful Claire was trying very hard not to meet the eyes of her mistress while the new girl gaped like the naive little creature she was.

Said Claire at last, "I hardly had the courage for it miss, but for your sake I was determined to try, but then not a day after we set out a messenger came from the king himself and said if I tried anything foolish, it was as much as any of our heads were worth. The Steward must have given your letter to your parents right away so we had no choice but to set out looking for you."

"What are you not telling me?" asked Crystal as she tried very hard not to laugh hysterically, unsure if she were more relieved or embarrassed at this turn of events.

The girl swallowed hard and said, "you are also to find yourself a husband and you needn't bother going home until you do."

Crystal sat back and frowned, "a husband, eh?" A mischievous grin grew on her lips and she laughed, "a husband indeed!" She tapped on the side of the carriage, passed a few words to the driver, and settled back into her seat, eager to implement her plan but was soon asleep.

They stopped at midday at a wayside establishment where her Princess-ship was able to eat a good meal and make herself appear as something far more royal and rather less like a drowned beast. Afterwards, the coachman whipped up his team and they rattled off into the afternoon, seeking a swamp. Yes a swamp, a fen, a bog, a wetland, a marsh, or whatever the local authorities chose to name it, but a place where frogs could be found in abundance. If a princess needed a husband, the most expedient remedy was undoubtedly an amphibious kiss. Crystal was not fond of things aquatic and slimy, but if she must marry, she would marry as only a storybook princess could. She would kiss every frog in the world if she must, but she would prove herself the heroine of some tale or die trying, uneasily trying to recall if any poisonous frogs were native to the realm and wishing she had paid more attention to her Natural History tutor. But her unease could not last long when she discovered something rather astonishing, said she in awe, "I have a quest, a purpose, a reason for being!"

Claire stared at her with the 'seemingly interested but not really listening' face of passivity that comes naturally to servants in such a position and the girl beside her said eagerly (and thereby breaking every known rule of royal etiquette), "what is it mistress?"

The two elder ladies gave her an annoyed look before her Highness continued, somewhat subdued as her thunder had inadvertently been stolen by this unseemly outburst, "I will disenchant a frog prince and we will live happily ever after."

Claire wanted to groan in agony but dutifully nodded with a wan smile on her face, "your parents will be delighted Majesty, I am certain." Though it was clear by her tone that she herself would not. Crystal nodded as if it were the absolute truth and resumed her nap. The girl gaped anew and Claire wondered if she were doomed to spend the rest of her life slogging through nameless bogs in search of enchanted royalty. She hoped not, even a lady's maid had her limits.

Late in the afternoon, they stopped alongside the local quagmire and the ladies disembarked. The entire party was put to work herding frogs towards her Majesty's wondrous kisses and chasing the disgruntled losers back into the bog. After kissing two hundred and nine unique frogs, something finally happened: the sun set and they were forced to retire for the night. Claire mused idly that she should have left her Majesty to her own devices and gone back for her appointment with the headsman. As the others crawled wearily into bed, the handmaid crept out into the darkness to make her own arrangements.

The next morning found a rather impatient and quite irate bureaucratic functionary awaiting her Highness as she went out to the fen to continue her amphibious interludes. Said the Official Secretary of Marshes, Watercourses, and Similar Environs, "madam, just what do you think you are doing? This is a respectable Kingdom and our frogs are respectable frogs. No sorceress is allowed to turn a Prince into a frog without a permit and such a permit has not been granted in ages! Nor is it proper etiquette to kiss any amphibious creature without a proper introduction. This behavior might be permissible in your benighted homeland but it will land you in jail in this enlightened realm!"

Crystal sighed, "where then am I to find a proper Prince?"

Said the secretary in a far more smug, but less irate tone, "come to my lecture on 'the Proper Protocols for Introducing Oneself to Freshwater Fishes and their Allies,' this afternoon and you will undoubtedly find your Prince." He bowed himself out and went his way. Claire for a moment regretted her hasty actions but assured herself this lecture could not possibly be worse than kissing frogs. The look on the Princess' face said otherwise.

So it was that they went to the lecture and met any number of third and fifth sons of royal birth but equally obscure destiny. And finally Crystal found her true purpose in life: attending lectures with cumbersome titles and very little useful content with other disaffected noble offspring and forcing her parents to pay obscenely for the privilege, which they grudgingly did because it seemed to keep her out of trouble. Hey, it beats kissing a frog! Or so Claire told herself as she took leave of her lady, now happily ensconced in the predecessor to modern universities, and went her way, so utterly tired of royalty and adventure and amphibians that she married the most mundane and unexciting man she could find and settled down to raise a family and potatoes and thus did someone in this irrational story live rather contentedly ever after.

Three wise men of Gotham,

Went to sea in a bowl,

And if the bowl had been stronger,

My song had been longer.

~Nursery Rhyme~

Wisdom's Children

The first had eyes doleful as any hound, equally bloodshot with drooping lids. The second wore a look gloomy as death, one could not gaze upon his countenance without declaring, "this then is the meaning of lugubrious! Whenever they get around to writing dictionaries, his likeness shall ever be linked with that horrid word." The third never said anything but peered down his long nose like a crow staring down from a dead tree, too great and wondrous to notice the goings on of the lesser beings about him, save perhaps with a sneer. They were academics; they were professors; they were brilliant; they were going to sea. The University of Gotham had grown rather small for these men of towering intellect, the confined one story space was so cramped with students and lesser professors that there was hardly room to stand, let alone sit or maintain the requisite personal space necessary to such men of lofty mien, but they would not be driven from their nest like terrified fledglings reluctant to fly. No! Rather they were setting themselves an academic challenge to which they must rise and would shine forth like the sun in its glory. They would go to sea! The things they would learn, the space they would have! They were dizzy with the sheer wonder of such heady thoughts.

As they were such brilliant men, never did they think to ask, 'how does one go to sea?' Never did they talk with sailors or fishermen or shipbuilders, such common folk could know nothing of the intricacies of an ocean voyage. Neither did they know of any esteemed Doctor in the nautical arts, they might have deigned to speak with such a colleague, but to their expansive knowledge none such existed in the known world. Perhaps they might have read a book upon the subject, but as there was no esteemed Doctor to write such a tome, there was certainly none in existence they would stoop to reading. Instead, they peered at the sea, talked amongst themselves, and theorized, which must be far the wiser course of action, for men of learning must know something even about things of which they know nothing, for an expert in one field is undoubtedly an expert in all.

So it was for a year and a day they talked and thought and argued about the best means by which to go to sea. The results were rather splendid, even more so because the project was fully financed by the King, who acted as benefactor to this astounding project for unspoken reasons of his own. They stood upon the quay, resplendent in their nautical garb (of their own design as well) of brilliant purple, silver, and cloth of gold; their hats alone were works of such art that many a lady pined over their beauty to her thrice great-grandchildren. Beside them floated their craft, a perfectly spherical bowl, painted and gilded to match their own brilliant garments. The usual inhabitants of the dockyards stood off to one side in their peasant drabbery, their faces unreadable and silent at this interruption in their routine but a hostile fog floated unseen around the intruders and their gaudy craft and clothes alike. The entire populous of the University turned out to wish the voyageurs a fond farewell, the students gawking like peasant children upon their first sight of a distant castle and the lesser professors envious behind their painted smiles. The ceremony was long, tedious, and full of words too long to bother repeating, but at last all was settled in an appropriately glorious fashion and the adventurers boarded their craft which summarily capsized with their ill-distributed weight, plunging the three into the murky depths below.

The peasant rabble did not bother to hide their mirth at seeing these all too high and mighty persons brought down by their own folly while the envious lesser professors wondered if they might not find themselves elevated should their esteemed peers accidentally drown. The students continued to gape in silence, not realizing that this was not part of 'The Plan,' as it would never occur to their finely cultivated minds to think that such esteemed personages could ever make a mistake, no matter how minor. So it was that no one rushed to the aid of the beleaguered seamen, but rather stood about lost in their own contemplations of the circumstances. But thankfully, our lofty professors were not without their resources. They had never bothered to learn to swim, but such a basic skill that could be mastered by the dullest of peasant children must come naturally to men of their persuasion. But there was also the perplexing matter of one's pride, would it not be better to drown rather than face the mirth of their peers, and worse, the peasantry in what should have been their finest hour? What about the state of one's clothes! One could not emerge from the sea dripping and soggy, like a cat caught in a downpour; it would never do!

So they thought to themselves as the waters closed in around them and no hand came to draw them from the engulfing sea. Had a hand reached out in help, they would have slapped it away in pride, for none of their esteemed colleagues was esteemed enough to offer rescue! The lugubrious fellow began to theorize on the art of swimming and had just come to the point of trying a few bold strokes himself when he was quite overwhelmed by the surrounding wetness and lost to all theorization thereafter. The man with the hound's face thought to make a study of the intricacies of the submerged world in lieu of his sea voyage, forgetting for a moment that he was not a natural denizen thereof, until he became a permanent resident. The sneering academic sat upon the bottom and snarled at the jaunty outline of their fabulous craft bobbing merrily above, a mere shadow amid the hazy light of the water's surface, daring anyone to come to his aid, daring the water itself to do its worst. Whether the water heeded him or not, none can guess, for he has yet to emerge and give an account of the matter and the sea will only murmur to itself in a language outside of mortal ken.

The students went back to their studies, eagerly awaiting the day when the esteemed professors would return from their in-depth study of the ocean depths while their colleagues began plotting how best to use this tragedy for their own advancement. The bowl floated in cheery indifference next to the quay and the peasants went back to their livelihoods, a knowing smile upon their less than enlightened faces. The three apparently continue their studies to this day, their lecture no doubt will be quite enlightening upon their return, but for some reason the fishermen of that little village believe quite the contrary, shaking their heads and grinning knowingly whenever the subject is broached. But then what do such uneducated and silly folk know of such matters?

Something told the wild geese

It was time to fly,

Summer sun was on their wings,

Winter in their cry.

~Rachel Field, 'Something Told the Wild Geese'~

Earthbound

It was a land where only birds could find easy passage, birds or winged horses. It was a rich and fertile land, with a mild climate and abundant rains that allowed all manner of vegetation to flourish, but the topography was something out of a nightmare. Great hills, with impossibly steep slopes, thrust themselves out of the earth while plants clung precariously to their sides and adorned their relatively flat tops like an uncouth green mane. Wild rivers lurked in the steep valleys between the jumbled hills that slanted at strange angles like so many crooked teeth; between the cascading rivers and lush foliage, there were always mists and rainbows mysteriously draping the hills. Even goats could not make a living upon those crazily slanting steeps, but Pegassi flourished where goats feared to tread. Their great wings could bear them easily to the hilltops where they could graze at leisure or they could gain some precarious foothold upon the nearly vertical hillsides to nibble at some choice treat beyond the reach of normal herbivores. It was a land of legend, beauty, and mystery and well beyond the reach or interest of mankind, or at least so it seemed. For men had found the land too harsh to farm or settle and were content with their holdings elsewhere, thus the Pegassi were left in relative peace, save for the occasional adventurer or fortune hunter bold enough to venture into those mysterious lands.

But the Pegassi had little to fear from such forays, for they were keen of sight, smell, and hearing and could easily elude any pursuit that went about on legs and were wary enough to keep well out of bowshot. So men sometimes glimpsed the wondrous creatures from afar but never had mortal man come face to face with the marvelous winged horses that most thought existed only in legend. Over the centuries, many had tried their luck at capturing or killing one of the astounding creatures, but even the luckiest only received the briefest glimpse as his reward, most saw nothing at all and went away convinced the creatures were simply a myth. So it was that the Pegassi lived on quite indifferent to men in the relative safety of that peculiar land.

But some were not content to let the fabulous creatures live on undisturbed, for there was a fortune to be made by the man who could capture one of the beasts and Gort would not rest until he was that man. He packed up his mules and a half dozen sturdy men and hied himself to the place where legend dwelt, intent on making a detailed study of the creatures and their habits, in hopes of finding some weakness or quirk that he might thus exploit. They set up camp along one of those rivers that were as wild and untouched as the fabled Pegassi they hunted and there they stayed for some months, mapping out the area, studying the creatures, and making their plans. The Pegassi made note of the squatters and were careful to avoid that particular vale, but otherwise paid the intruders little heed. It was soon obvious that a healthy adult was nigh uncatchable, leaving only the young and the weak, but they had not invested so much to come away with some crippled or sick creature so they turned their predatory eyes to the very young. But where and when did the creatures foal?

Only the Pegassi could answer that question but they were not about to reveal their most intimate secrets to such unscrupulous strangers. The land was a paradise for anything with wings, but an unfledged foal would find it as harsh and unyielding as mortal men. The verdant hilltops provided good grazing for the adults but they had to travel from hill to hill to sate their hunger as they were too small to support one Pegassi indefinitely, neither could they serve as a nursery for the earthbound children of that race. Rather, the mares secreted themselves in the wide meadows of the plateaus to the west of those hills and there brought forth and nurtured their young, until they were old enough to tread the paths of the sky and could thus return to their native land. Gort and his cronies soon understood the limits of those crazy hills and knew the creatures must bear and raise their foals elsewhere, and if he could find that elsewhere, the creatures would be his.

So it was that he sent his minions out in pairs on scouting missions into the surrounding countryside seeking anywhere that might prove a good nursery to the creatures, and after many months and countless miles, his prudence paid off. For beyond those hills lay a broad land of lush pasture and meandering streams in which the beasts could lose themselves and their young ones until the creatures could gain the safety of the skies. Gort abandoned his camp and moved into the midst of the plateau to impatiently await the spring.

The mare was nervous, she caught the vagrant scent of men in the air and knew they had invaded the Pegassi's ancestral foaling ground, but her time was near and she had no other choice. She glanced about anxiously and crept into a little dell, hoping it concealed her from casual sight. The foal was born without difficulty and his antsy mother began to relax as the days wore on and no interruption presented itself. Finally she felt comfortable leaving the colt hidden during the day while she vanished back to the familiar hills with their rich pasture to graze, returning at night to guard and nurse her offspring. The foals were born amidst a wide green pastureland, but as summer wore on the heat intensified and the rains failed and the grass soon lay sere and brown, whereas those impossible hills never failed to offer lush, green fodder save in the coldest months of winter and even then there was enough to sate the Pegassi, though it was dry and brown. Even before the grass failed, it was the habit of all such mothers to return home to graze during the course of the day and visit the foals only at night, in this way drawing less attention to their vulnerable offspring while still availing themselves of the luscious grass of their homeland. The foals hid most of the time, but as they grew older, they would start grazing on their own in the cool of evening and amidst the dew of morning. By the time fall arrived, they were able to leap into the air and were almost ready to fly; soon they would follow their mothers one crisp day and enter their true homeland before the snows of winter buried the plateau.

Gort and his men hid themselves throughout that wide green land and watched, eventually finding several such mothers and their young ones hidden throughout the countryside. Great was their rejoicing when they discovered this odd habit of leaving their foals alone and unprotected throughout the day. Then on one fateful morning, they waited for the mare to depart, mounted their horses, and pursued the foal. He could not fly but he could still run. But he could not outrun so many mature horses. He bleated pitifully and ran until he collapsed, then the hunters were upon him. They tied him securely, put him on the back of one of the ever patient mules, mounted their weary horses, and turned towards home. The mare returned to find the creature gone with signs of a great chase and struggle written in the crushed herbage and disturbed turf all about where he had been. She screamed heart-wrenchingly to the indifferent moon but knew her little one was beyond her aid. She fled back to those peculiar hills with the dawning and great was the unease among her people.

Gort had his own source of unease, for he did not trust his minions. One by one their numbers atrophied as they journeyed back into the lands of men. One died of a sudden illness, another suffered a tragic accident, one went wandering away from camp one night and never returned, another's horse went mad and threw himself and his hapless rider to the ground and neither stirred again, and so forth until only Gort and two of his cronies remained. The two underlings were by now very jumpy, wondering if they had somehow cursed themselves by daring to capture such a beast or if there were not some treachery among them. Gort whispered quietly to one of the men one night, "Carl has been acting a bit strange of late, whispering things that should not be spoken by mortal men. Wanting to be the sole possessor of our prize. He makes me nervous."

The man frowned, "I had suspected as much. We may need to take matters into our own hands. Are you with me?" Gort nodded his encouragement as the man drew his dagger and approached the unwitting Carl, who looked at the drawn weapon with apprehension and then fury, drawing forth his own. The first man looked questioningly at Gort, who nodded grimly and reached for his own knife, but relaxed his grip on the hilt when it was clear Carl was not going to sit this out, though Gort fully intended to. The two struggled for a time and Gort made sure the winner did not live to celebrate his victory. He smiled triumphantly to himself as he filched anything the deceased had of use or value, then he approached the cruelly bound foal, gloating, "now it is just you and I, beast, and none will share in my profit or know the secret to taking such a creature!" The foal cringed back and shuddered at the dreadful things he had seen and heard since his abduction, feeling that men must be the most terrible creatures alive in the wide world and wondering what his own bitter end would be among them. The next morning, the man set out alone with his great prize and thought his future would be grand indeed.

But there are other unscrupulous men in the world, every bit as nasty as Gort, and just as happy to avail themselves of a potentially lucrative situation. The bandits were attracted by the horses and mules in the party and only encouraged in their ambitions by seeing a single man attending them all. A few arrows later, the villains were rifling through the baggage and securing their new property while Gort was well beyond such mortal concerns. One of the unwashed lot pointed out the wretched foal which was thin, bedraggled, and dejected. Their leader barked a laugh, "who would bother themselves with such a pitiful creature when we have more than enough with the rest of the beasts? Leave it!" The thieves shared a hooting laugh and vanished into the night, leaving the poor creature bound and alone with the murdered Gort. He had thought his plight could not get much worse, but he was horrified to discover himself dreadfully wrong. At least he had not fallen into the hands of such horrid men; they had not looked close enough to see the wing buds on his back in the twilight nor would they have known what they were had they seen them. He sighed and wondered how long it would take to die of thirst or until a wandering predator ended his misery.

A gasp of horror and surprise brought the colt awake instantly, he must have dozed off with exhaustion, terror, and grief, but he was wide awake as he scanned the small glade in which he found himself with the sun on the rise. His heart leapt within him, but whether in fear or joy, he was unsure, for he was no longer alone. He had resigned himself to a grim and lingering death alone, but here was another human creature and part of him rejoiced that he was no longer alone with the dead. But this creature was different than all such that he had yet encountered. This one was smaller, more timid, and did not smell of grime and filth. It was this creature who had uttered the gasp, probably upon sighting his dead conspecific. His attention turned to the foal as it struggled to an upright position and the lad gasped anew. Tremulously, he approached the cruelly bound colt, giving the dead man a wide berth.

The foal flinched back when the lad drew forth his knife, but relaxed when he realized he only meant to cut the bonds. Soon enough, the colt was loose, bucking and frisking like a calf turned out on spring pasture. He rolled on the grass under the sun and felt that life might yet hold joy for him. He stretched and kicked, working the stiffness and disuse out of legs, wings, neck, and body. The boy frowned in perplexity when he glimpsed the wing buds on the creature's back. The colt shook his head and snorted, saying, "you have never seen a Pegassi before?" A voice from such a source was even more astounding than the strange appendages on the foal's back; the boy sat down heavily and gaped. The beast snorted a laugh, "apparently not and neither have you heard a horse speak." He glanced grimly at the remnants of the bandit's handiwork and said, "so are all men like them? Creatures who care nothing for others and only seek that which will benefit themselves, even if they must murder one another to accomplish it?"

Tobin shook his head, his eyes still wide, "many men are selfish and some downright vile, but most are not as cruel or villainous as you have apparently encountered. Would I have loosed you, were I such as they?"

The colt nodded, "you speak wisely, for you thought me a mere horse and yet stooped to help such a wretched creature, for which I am grateful. But what is to come of me? I am in far better straits than I was last night, but I am still far from my home and among a people that will think nothing of enslaving me again."

Asked the boy, "what would you have of me?"

Said the Pegassi, "I must return to my people who dwell many days to the south, but I know not the way and am yet very young and alone in all the world."

Tobin smiled sadly, "that makes two of us, for my father has recently married and my stepmother said that I must go find my place in the world because I no longer had one under her roof. I hardly know anything of the world, especially your homeland or people, but I will accompany you, if you would have me?"

The Pegassi whinnied for joy, "glad would I be for the company of a kind and caring friend, though we know little of the world, we shall face its perils together. Are you sure you wish to go on such an adventure, it may well be dangerous and you cannot survive on grass as I can."

The boy grinned impishly, "any direction is as good as any other at the moment and I am like to starve or fall into danger regardless of the way I go. I might as well make the journey as interesting and useful as possible since I have to go regardless."

The colt frisked excitedly, "very well, friend, let us away, but first I must find somewhere to drink and bathe, I should shine like fresh snow not be as drab as wet ash." Much to the Pegassi's delight, there was a cold brook laughing in the shadows just over the hill. He joyously plunged in, cleansing himself physically of his recent adventures, if only his heart were so easily restored to its former innocence and joy. He charged out of the stream and laughed, "come friend! Our adventure awaits." He set off at an eager trot but found the boy could not keep up so contented himself with a walk that he not out pace his companion. The boy smiled gratefully and hastened alongside his new friend.

It was now midsummer and the colt had spent nearly a month a captive, traveling as fast as Gort could push his horses, so it would be well into early autumn before they reached the Pegassi's country afoot. He was not even sure where his country was, only vaguely familiar with the route back to the plateau where he was born and hoped he could locate his homeland from there, having watched his mother travel thither on a daily basis.

Tobin wondered how he was to find food upon the way, for from what the creature said, there were few farms and no villages between their current location and the Pegassi's native heath. He smiled ruefully, it was not as if he had had any idea of how he was to provide for himself anyway, save perhaps to offer to assist with any needful chores in exchange for a few scraps or a little bread, but that would require someone to ask for such a boon, something he was unlikely to encounter on this journey into the wilds. Ah well, he would think of something. He hastened on after the eager Pegassi, having lagged a bit in his introspection.

Theirs was a merry journey, both were young and eager and the weather held fair. The Pegassi had been forcibly weaned by his capture and had been forced to make due with what grass he could nibble at night within the radius of the short rope that kept him tied to a tree. Even with their quick pace, he started to gain weight as they traveled, thanks to his newfound ability to graze as he pleased. The boy on the other hand, was forced to tighten his belt. He did not starve, for he knew enough of woodcraft to procure some sustenance from the land about them, he had a bow and a knife that aided him much in his search and the season was that when wild foods were fairly abundant. The occasional farm they encountered also helped sustain him, the residents so eager to have company in these far flung regions that they eagerly welcomed the boy amongst them and gave him a little food to take on his way the following morning. So did the weeks and miles pass, until the season was waning and a chill in the wind hinted at colder days to come. The woods were left behind and they climbed up treeless hills into a broad, flat land of endless grass.

Said the Pegassi one bright morning, inhaling sharply, "ah, this then is the land of my birth." The boy looked a question at him and the creature continued, "this is only where I was born, my people dwell somewhere to the east and thence must we go."

The boy asked, "you have never seen your homeland?"

The Pegassi nodded, "I have only ever seen my mother fly off in that direction and could not make the journey thither until I was old enough to do likewise." He glanced over his shoulders at his quickening wings and said with a sigh, "alas that this unfortunate adventure has slowed my growth! It will be midwinter at least before I can fly and we cannot abide on the plain in such weather; we must therefore walk. I hope there are no insurmountable obstacles to earthbound travelers ere we reach journey's end." The boy nodded glumly and they turned towards the dawning. The colt had hoped to find some of his folk on the plateau but after his capture, they thought it unwise to linger so had quickly moved elsewhere, leaving only the wind sighing through the grasses to greet the exile upon his return.

The land became steeper, rockier, and forested as they traveled east, slowing their progress significantly but if a Pegassi could travel the distance easily in a day, it could not be that far, even if they were afoot. But the colt's dreaded insurmountable barrier stopped them in their tracks at midday of the second day since they left the plateau; a great river barred their way and it did not look to be easily crossed by those afoot for it flowed fast and cold over a bed of jagged rocks. It could neither be swum nor forded, their only choice was to move upstream towards the mountains where it had its birth and hope it narrowed or go downstream towards the distant sea and hope it widened and calmed as it journeyed thence. They did not want to climb northward into the mountains with winter coming and hoped the terrain south would be less steep and the climate a bit warmer if they were forced a great deal out of their way. The colt ruffled his half-grown wings in frustration, "alas, if only I could fly!" But he could not so the point was moot. They turned south.

They were many days upon the river's edge until at last they came to a place where the once mighty flow broadened over a bed of small stones and they could finally ford the river. They turned northeast as the weather grew suddenly chill and the wind bitter, but they felt themselves very nearly there and hoped to reach that mysterious country before the first snowfall. Tobin hoped there was something for mortal men to eat in the Pegassi's country, for as the year waned, foraging amongst bush and river would become harder. An abundance of nuts and berries and an occasional fish from the river had sustained him once he left the plateau but winter would prove a bitter foe unless he could find a sure source of provender and he was in desperate need of clothing more suited to the colder weather. He did not know what would come of his adventure once his friend was finally reunited with his kin, for he doubted the creatures had even the barest amenities for mortal man and winter was fast approaching.

Finally, finally, the colt let out a joyous scream one overcast afternoon as the wind was sending icy fingers deep into the boy's ragged summer garb; he had glimpsed one of his long sundered kinsmen, but said kinsman had also seen the boy on the verge of Pegassi territory and hastened to find the Elders that they might know of the trespasser. Men were no longer simply ignored within the bounds of the Pegassi's homeland and the Elders must do something about this bold intruder. The colt exchanged an eager glance with his friend and hastened his pace, Tobin did not complain, hoping that moving faster would warm his frozen frame.

The Elders were quickly fetched and hovered out of bow shot for a few minutes as they studied the intruder, yes he carried a bow and was therefore much to be feared. Then they studied the horse with him and were astounded to see that it was one of their own youngsters, though far smaller and less developed than he should be at this time of the year. Could it be? They landed to confer privately and dispatched someone to fetch a certain bereaved mother. She was nearly desperate to approach the strange young Pegassi but the Elders warned her sternly, "his companion has a bow and is a danger to all our kind, and who knows what fell power he might possess to control the heart and mind of one of our own youngsters?"

Said she miserably, "what then are we to do?"

The Elders shook their heads grimly, "we must somehow disable the man before we approach this strange youngster."

She asked desperately, "how?" They shook their heads in perplexity, having no answer. Said she hopefully, "perhaps the youngling will come to us of his own accord and we need not approach the man?" The Elders looked doubtful but thought it their best hope.

The colt shook his head in consternation, "they have seen us, but why do they not come?"

Tobin said thoughtfully, "after your encounter with men, perhaps they are wary of my presence? Perhaps if you approached them alone?"

The colt nodded eagerly, "an excellent idea my friend! I shall not tarry long, await me here." He galloped off in the direction he had seen several of his kinsmen land. He soon found them gathered deep in grim council. They stared at him in astonishment, but he instantly recognized his mother and squealed joyously. She dashed to him and after an exuberant greeting, he told all his story. They goggled at both the cruelty and kindness of men.

Said the joyous mare, "what of your friend? Is he dangerous?"

The colt shook his head in amusement, "nay dear lady, he has been my friend and companion these many miles, even though he has nearly starved and frozen upon the way for my sake. Is there aught we can do for him?"

The Elders exchanged a grim look and the Eldest said, "after your abduction we changed our laws and now interaction with humankind is strictly forbidden. He must go his way and leave our lands as swift as may be."

The foal was aghast, "he saved my life and risked his upon this strange journey, can we do nothing to hasten his return to the lands of men? He will die upon the way if we turn him out with no food or protection against the cold."

The Eldest shook his head grimly, "I am sorry lad, but it cannot be. He should have thought of that ere setting forth. His lack of foresight is not our concern."

The colt looked towards his mother, "will you abandon him too?"

She shook her head grimly, her months' long heartache not having endeared humanity to her in the least and not wishing to dispute with the Elders, said she, "I am sorry my son, but your friend must face whatever fate awaits him. We can do nothing for him."

The colt screamed his frustration, rearing and pawing the air in consternation, "what if I go back to him and refuse to associate with so coldhearted a people?"

The Eldest shook his head, "you would be anathema among your own kin and would not long survive the coming winter as you are unable to fly."

The colt said grimly, "it seems mankind is not the only race to have a problem with cold and bitter hearts, the Pegassi too are so afflicted. I will not abandon the boy to his fate, even if all I can do is die alongside him."

The panicked mother stared at the Elders in desperation but they only shook their heads grimly, the colt must do as he felt he must and they would do as they must. She sighed heavily and said to her son, "must I lose you twice child?"

He said sadly as he turned to go, "only if you close your heart to those desperately in need of your aid. I will not repay his faithfulness with infidelity. Farewell mother."

She sighed deeply and said sadly, "things will be as they must, your time amongst men has ruined you. My son died the day he was taken from me and a stranger has returned with his face. I know you not. Who would choose a pointless death over the succor of his own people?"

The colt smiled sadly, "love is never vain, lady, I hope you all learn that one day. Farewell!" He was soon lost in the growing twilight, leaving his elders to stare after in wonder.

When he returned to the boy, night was falling and the temperature with it. The boy was nearly frozen through and the smell of snow hung heavy in the air. Said the colt sadly, "my people will do nothing to aid your plight and have said I am an exile and an outcast should I have anything more to do with you. So am I anathema to my own kin! But I will not abandon you, though I know there can be but one outcome."

Tobin's teeth chattered and his lips were blue as he said, "you cannot die here vainly beside me, friend! Return to your people, I will not hold it against you."

The colt snorted, "you stood beside me all this way, can I not abide faithfully with you in the little time that is left us?"

The boy saw that argument was futile, the stubborn creature was set on his course. Instead of debating further, they sought what shelter they could beneath a great spruce; the colt lay down and draped one of his wings over the frigid boy who soon fell asleep, listening to the steady thump of his friend's heart. Without, the temperature plummeted, the wind howled, and the snow fell unabated for three days. The colt too fell into a deep sleep, from which he would never waken. It was a terrible winter, the worst in the memory of the Pegassi, and no thaw came until the spring, when they found the pair still curled up under the sheltering tree, greatly did such devotion touch the hearts of that flighty folk and much did they wonder what it would mean if all beating hearts could prove so true.

Still 'round the corner there may wait

A new road or secret gate;

And though I oft have passed them by,

A day will come at last when I

Shall take the hidden paths that run

West of the Moon, East of the Sun.

~J.R.R. Tolkien, 'The Road Goes Ever On'~

Beyond the Distant Hills

The great horse whinnied nervously; the knight looked around in dread, wondering what could cause the usually unflappable animal such unease. Such was its training that it did not flinch, even before dragons. The friendly light of eventide suddenly became the black of a storm-wracked night and all the whispered noises of a sylvan twilight were now as a tomb. A scornful female voice scoffed in the menacing silence, "well hero? What will come of you? Will you live or die? Will you ride upon my whims or shall the earth swallow you whole?"

The man shuddered, but knew to his very soul that he could never serve such a vile mistress, said he as boldly as terror allowed, "do your worst, fell lady, but I shall never serve such as thee." The only answer was her mocking laughter as the ground upon which the horse stood suddenly became treacherous as that of mire or fen. The horse screamed his terror but was soon silenced as they sank from the sight and knowledge of the mortal world.

There had never been such a cheerful, skipping child as Kylee, who was more lark or sunbeam than daughter of men. Her joy it was to sing and dance through the wooded vales in mist and shadow, to whisper with the flowers of the garden when they were aglow with the morning sun, and to share secrets with the little birds that trilled in the hedges. Nor was she surprised to meet one day a creature as whimsical and joyous as herself, save this was a daughter of the fairies, rather than of mortal stock, but such were their similarities in interest and temper that it mattered not. So it was they traversed field and fen together, laughing with the brook and dancing in the mist of dawn, learning the language of violet and swallow. Kylee's parents would have been aghast to learn that she kept company with any fey creature, no matter how sweet of temper, but they took her tales to be just that: the invention of a young and innocent mind with too little interest in her own kind, but they could not contain this seemingly half-dryad creature without crushing her utterly so allowed her to gad about as she would, thinking she would one day outgrow such nonsense. But outgrow it she never would.

The years passed and this whimsical bud had blossomed into a fanciful maiden who still kept her secret trysts with her sister of fairykind, but had learned the wisdom of keeping silence upon the matter with those of mortal race. Upon a misty morn of rose and gold, Kylee met the fairy lass amidst the dew soaked lilies, but the creature seemed apprehensive, a mood in which the girl had never seen the irrepressibly gay creature before, said the fairy with trembling voice, "I bear dread tidings, my friend, but worse would it be if no one knew and nothing was done to prevent a great tragedy." Kylee was at her side in a moment, urging her to speak what she would, for it must be grim indeed to so upset a creature that might have been mirth incarnate. Continued she, "my sister, whose nature is quite opposite my own, has used her magic to coerce and entrap any number of men, warriors all, that they may do naught but her will, this to spare their lives. She intends to loose her vile slaves upon all the folk hereabouts, to rid the countryside of mortal men that she may rule as Queen and Lady thereof."

Kylee gasped, "can nothing be done?"

The fairy said grimly, "there is a chance but the cost is great."

Kylee's fear turned suddenly to a grim resolve, "speak dear friend, I will pay what price I must, if I can avail my folk."

The fairy swallowed a sob, but continued, "my sister has captured a number of knights, unwilling to do her will, in the process of acquiring those of a more vile nature that she has enslaved, these objectors may perhaps oppose her fell minions if they can be wakened from the sleep that lies heavy upon them. But to break the enchantment, one must be found who is willing to endure endless sleep that these others might waken."

Kylee nodded sadly, "I will try, what must I do?" The fairy flung herself into her friend's arms and wept as if her heart would break, but after she had cried herself into relative acceptance, she told the girl all she must do.

On the far side of the woods lay a wild land of moor and fen, amidst those hills was a cavern in which the knights slept as men in their tombs. Kylee set out immediately for that lonely heathland and the fairy vanished to distract her sister that she might not know of this threat to her plan until it was too late. The journey was uneventfully made and as night was falling, Kylee found herself upon a stony hillside beneath a sky of lowering grey clouds. An archway of stone stood black and ominous before her, like the mouth of death. She took a deep breath and marched into the doorway. There was a slight glow in the otherwise grim cavern for some sort of luminous fungus thrived therein. Upon each side lay a row of stone biers and upon each lay an unmoving knight, sword upon his breast, as one interred. She hastened to the far end of the seeming tomb and laid herself down upon the empty bier there and immediately fell into darkness.

A light glimmered in the doorway as the fairy maid entered to see what had come of her friend. The girl lay unmoving, pale as marble and cold as stone, upon her bier while all about the cavern, the sound of waking men and moving armor filled the air. The fairy's light and courage blazed forth as she called the blinking knights to arms and told them of all that had come to pass and what was yet to come. As one, they gazed upon the sleeping form of the maiden with pity and wonder, vowing to waken her in turn once the grim fairy's minions were routed. They emerged from the cave and found their horses waiting and eager upon the side of the hill. Once they were mounted, a great light engulfed them all, and they vanished leaving the hillside to its lonely vigil.

The vile fairy unleashed her minions at full dark and intended none of her neighbors to see the morning, but her sister knew of her plans and sent her own knights to counter the plot. The fighting was fierce but the wakened knights were victorious and the evil fairy overthrown. The triumphant knights and their pixie captain surrounded the fell creature, who wore a look of haughty triumph even in defeat, scoffed she, "well met sister! A victory indeed, I did not think you had it in you, but what has it cost your dear little friend? She will never waken as long as the hills endure! You have salvaged the lives of those hereabouts but at what cost?" Her scornful laughter seemed to mock the rising dawn itself before she vanished into the whelming mist.

"What will come of her?" asked one of the Knights of the remaining fairy.

She shook her head and said, "she will likely get up to more mischief one day, but for now these folk might dwell in relative peace and safety."

Asked another Knight, "what of the sleeping maid? Did the fell lady speak truly about her fate?"

The fairy said sadly, "she paid the price willingly and without hesitation. But terrible is the price to free her from the enchantment; I do not know if any would be willing to pay that price, so she will likely sleep on until the world itself becomes naught but legend."

"What then is the price?" asked the first Knight.

Said she, "one must journey to the far, distant hills that rim the very edge of the world. There grows a flower that is said to cure even death itself, but the price to pick them is dear. The hand that plucks them must then cross the hills and leave the world behind. What lies beyond, none knows, but that is the price."

There was much murmuring among the Knights, for they had not reckoned on such a cost. They had thought to fight monsters or fell men, to make a great journey and bold vows, but in the end to return triumphant. But this? To make the effort and never see the result; to strive and never return more? The cost was too much, the price too dear. One by one, they turned away with many fine words and much regret; the fairy wretchedly watched them go, but knew it better that they never attempt the journey than to have their hearts and courage fail at the last. All the men of renown and valor abandoned her that day, but the least of them all, a mere page, remained behind. She eyed the boy with grim hope, "and would you risk this thing when all your elders will not?"

The boy shrugged, "if none else will, that leaves only me. I will go." He frowned, "how then are these flowers to reach the lady if I am not to return?"

Laughed she for joy, "I will accompany you lad and bear them back to she that sleeps."

The boy nodded grimly, "then we had best be on our way." She laughed in relief and joy as the boy mounted his horse and set forth into the dawning. As they traveled, asked he, "could you not pluck these flowers to save your friend?"

She looked sadly upon the boy and shook her head gravely, "nay lad, for my kind is not allowed beyond the confines of this world, only mortal man has that doom and that joy." The boy nodded, but seemed perplexed by her words, but there was naught she could say to enlighten him, for it was just the way matters stood and was perhaps beyond mortal comprehension.

She could not harvest the flowers herself, but she could certainly help the boy in other ways and much did she ease the tedium and difficulty of travel with her magical talents and companionship, until at last, after a rather uneventful and relatively pleasant journey, they arrived upon the hills that rimmed the world. It was a charming land of rolling hills, wide meadows, laughing brooks, and bright woodlands, but to the East there was no horizon of boundless blue sky, but rather a perpetual mist that seemed aglow with the new risen sun. Said she, "thence must you go once you have plucked the flowers."

He studied the mist and some part deep within yearned above all else to discover its secrets. He smiled at her tremulously, "and where grow these wondrous plants?"

She smiled and pointed to the mist, "in the very vapor of the mist do they abide." They walked slowly towards the verge and a wondrous scent filled the air.

He sighed with great eagerness, "they smell sweeter than life itself!"

"Aye," said she, "and so will they drive away even the shadow of death. But come, the time is at hand. Does your courage fail you even now?"

Laughed he for very joy, "nay lady, I long to plunge in and see what waits Beyond, if this is the mere border, what must lie at the heart?"

A bittersweet smile touched her lips, "I envy you son of man, for such I shall not know while this world lasts."

They drew to the very edge and he reached into the mist, taking up a humble clump of what looked to be no more exotic a flower than what was commonly called lily-of-the-valley. He smiled and tried to draw his arm back from the mist, but could not withdraw it; he looked to the fairy in concern, said she, "you must fully enter the mist and then hand me the flowers from within its confines. Do not go too far in or you and the flowers will be lost to the mortal world!" He nodded and a look of joyous determination entered his eyes as he took that first fateful step. His heart gave a strange quiver as the mist fully enfolded him but he knew he could now hand off the flowers. She smiled with a strange mix of joy and sadness and took the proffered bouquet. He smiled wondrously and vanished deeper into the mists and beyond all knowledge of men. The fairy looked wistfully after the vanished boy, but then remembering her errand, vanished herself back to her ever slumbering friend.

She suddenly appeared in that grim cave and the scent of the flowers sent the shadow of death flying from its confines. Kylee sat up as one long abed upon a joyous morning and smiled wonderingly at her friend. The fairy then imparted all the tale causing Kylee's countenance to fall, especially at what it had cost the valiant lad on her behalf. Said the fairy wistfully, "you need not mourn over much for him I think, he rejoiced in his fate ere he vanished from my sight."

Kylee smiled sadly and then asked curiously, "what then lies beyond all this? Perhaps I should venture thither and see for myself!"

The fairy smiled knowingly, "nay child, for all men must take that path one day, but none should seek it ere their time. It was a needful thing that sent him thus, but you must bide here awhile and see what life yet holds for you. Your tale is not yet done."

Laughed the girl, "I cannot abide a half told tale, you are right my friend, that day will come soon enough, but I must finish one tale before I begin another." They linked hands and walked joyfully from the cave out into the glorious day, as from death into life.

Hiding in the shadows,

From the light of day,

In the secret places,

Where the fairies play.

~Wood Violet~

Though here at journey's end I lie

In darkness buried deep,

Beyond all towers strong and high,

Beyond all mountains steep,

Above all shadows rides the Sun

And Stars forever dwell:

I will not say the Day is done,

Nor bid the Stars farewell.

~J.R.R. Tolkien, 'Journey's End'~

Strange the Paths of Fate

It was a small sleepy village like any other and most of its unassuming residents would never make it into song or story, but alas for our protagonist, for such was not to be his fate, which means his life was about to get far more interesting than was usually the wont of his folk. As this story begins, he was as common a boy as can be found in such a place and time and was going about his life in the most ordinary fashion imaginable. He wanted to get married, which was a common affliction of people his age in those days, but he had no means of supporting a family and thus could not speak his intentions to his lady of choice. Often he pondered how to overcome this difficulty and tried to discern some feasible way of making a living, but ever the inspiration and opportunity eluded him. His heart sank when he thought he might have to leave the village and seek his fortune in the wide world, but there seemed no other choice if he was ever to realize his hopes. He had just come to this depressing conclusion and was wondering how to tell his beloved of his plans, when another option presented itself in the guise of a mysterious lady.

She swept into the common room of the inn as if she owned the establishment and told the proprietor exactly what she needed by way of a midday repast. So cowed and astonished was he, that he made no complaints but slunk timidly back to his kitchen and began making preparations to humor the lady. She glanced about the nearly empty room with a contemptuous indifference when her eyes fell upon our hero, who was sitting quietly at a distant table rehearsing how best to break the news of his upcoming departure to his lady. Snapped she, "boy!"

Corvin looked up in astonishment, having thought he was alone save for the innkeeper. He reddened and hastened to her, bowing awkwardly as one unused to the practice, said he meekly, "how may I help you madam?"

She looked him up and down, as if he were a goose she meant to purchase, said she, "I need a dependable lad to accompany me for a time, to run errands and wait upon me and the like. Would you be such a lad?"

The boy's eyes widened in disbelief, as if his prayers had been answered in the guise of this icy vision; to have a place and a position already defined upon leaving the village rather than going off alone into the great unknown with no destination or plan and hoping it might all work out somehow was miracle indeed! He blushed to his toes, bowed deeply, and mumbled, "that I am madam. What would you have of me?"

She smiled patronizingly, "very good. We shall leave as soon as I have finished my noon meal. You have until then to set your affairs in order and bid farewell to your folk. You will agree to do whatever I ask of you and ask no questions. If you hesitate or disobey, I reserve the right to punish you as I will. You will accompany me for two years and at the end of that time, shall be free to go as you wish or, if mutually agreeable you may continue in my service. I will reward you well at the end of your service and provide for your daily needs until then. Serve poorly and you will regret it sorely. Are we agreed?"

The boy pondered these things for a long moment, unsure how he felt about such a disdainful mistress or doing as he was bidden without question or hesitation, but then the more utilitarian side of him thought how fortunate he was to have this opportunity suddenly thrust upon him. She seemed a lady after all, and no true lady could ever ask her servant to do anything illegal or immoral. And if she was a little harsh, was that not expected among the aristocracy? Besides, it was only two years and then he would have a bit of money to start himself in either farming or some trade and then he could fulfill the desires of his heart! He took a deep breath, suppressed that part of himself that shrieked a warning to beware the frigid woman before him, and said as boldly as he could, "we are agreed madam."

She smiled scornfully, "very well. Meet me in the stableyard in one hour. Do not bother packing anything, as it will only serve as an encumbrance. If you cannot carry it on your person, you will not need it. I shall see that all else is provided." He bowed again as a quiver ran down his spine, though whether of eagerness or fear, he knew not which. She obviously ignored him and rather uninterestedly looked out the window instead. He dashed off to inform all and sundry of his luck, though he could not yet decide whether it was good or ill.

His lady bid him farewell with tears, though a hope shone forth in the depths of her eyes, that at last he might speak that which she most longed to hear, but he could not ask it of her until he was sure of his own future, said he, "lady, you know I love you more than life itself, and as such, I cannot ask you to promise yourself to me until I am worthy of you. When I return and have the means to support us both, then and only then may I speak as I so greatly desire. Farewell!" She nodded sadly but swallowed her sorrow that it not pain him more during their sundering. He smiled weakly, but was eager for their meeting two years hence, and this alone gave him strength enough to leave her. He returned home and said farewell to his parents and numerous siblings, took up a few loose items that might be useful or meaningful upon the way, and hurried back to the inn for his appointment with destiny.

He was a little early, but the lady had finished her mediocre meal and was impatient to be upon her way so berated him even so, "you will appear when I want you. If tardiness is going to be a habit with you, I shall dismiss you this moment!"

Said he contritely, "forgive me madam, I am usually punctual and you will not find me lax in my duties again."

She sniffed derisively but seemed content, "very well, now go to the innkeeper and see if he has a decent set of tack to spare."

Corvin vanished inside and soon emerged with the portly fellow, who rubbed his hands together in eagerness but wore a rather timid look, said he, "I do not have anything befitting a lady of your status, madam, but I do have some very serviceable gear. Are you also in need of a horse?"

"Never mind that," snapped she, "show me what you have."

He showed her his meager collection of worn, but usable equipment and she selected what she would. She paid him well for her purchase and asked if she might leave all but the bridle in his keeping for a few moments while she fetched her horse and also demanded that one of his stable lads be of use to her in saddling said beast. Said he in some surprise, "certainly madam, but I thought that was why you had hired the boy here, to be of use in such tasks?"

Snarled she, "I will do with my servants as it pleases me and need not be questioned by the likes of you. He has other tasks to which he must attend and I would hope my generosity in purchasing what I have of you would be repaid in kind."

The man flushed and mumbled contritely, "forgive me madam, forgive my foolish tongue! It shall be as you say, I should know better than to question my betters. I only thought you might want your own servant to see to your comfort, that was all." She stared stonily at him, he bobbed his head with a nervous squawk and vanished into the stable seeking after one of his own lads to see to her horse once it arrived.

She turned icy eyes to Corvin, "come, and do not be such a fool as he and ask questions unbidden, or it will be the worse for you." She stalked off and the boy trailed meekly after. They left the village and the boy wondered where she was to get a horse, as there was no farm or stable upon the small winding road they were taking, it was only the path to the upper meadows where the sheep were kept in summer and veritably abandoned this early in the spring. She stopped suddenly and asked, "are we like to be disturbed here?" The boy shook his head and a cruel smile touched her lips, "now learn a part of your service to me, but remember to ask no questions and to balk not at that which shall be asked of you." She spoke in a fell tongue and Corvin's heart quailed in terror.

Some minutes later, the lady returned to the village down that winding path leading a dapple stallion by the reins, the creature's eyes rolled in confusion and astonishment but he seemed placid as an aged gelding as his mistress led him into the stableyard of the inn. As agreed, one of the grooms tacked up the beast and then handed the lady into her saddle. A triumphant smirk graced her lips as she turned the beast and rode out of town, leaving the locals to wonder at the lady herself and where she had gotten such a horse and what had come of Corvin. None of their suppositions brought them any comfort, but only a chill feeling of dread that they could not explain.

No questions indeed! What a fool he had been, perhaps still was to be serving a sorceress thus, but what choice did he have? If he ever wished to be anything but a horse, it depended upon the whims of she who sat upon his back, and he had agreed to this service, if in a general sort of way. He should have heeded that part of him that cried out in horror at the very thought of serving such a mistress, but such was now his plight and he must deal with it as best he could. They trotted on for most of the day and only as evening drew on did they wander off the road into a secluded glade, wherein the enchantress worked her fell powers again and he was a boy once more. Said she, "this then is your service to me, serve me in whatever guise and errand I set you and you shall do well, disobey or hesitate and you will feel my wrath. Agreed?" The boy stared at her with terror filled eyes but he nodded. "Good," said she with a contemptuous smile, "now there is an inn ahead. Go forth and procure me a room and a meal. Off with you." The boy blinked for a moment in surprise but then dashed off as quickly as his legs could carry him. She followed slowly after with a gloating smile on her face.

He attended her whilst she ate, hastened about a few more errands on her behalf, and then she bid him go outside the inn and return in a few minutes. He looked a question at her, but thought the better of it and hied himself into the night. A few minutes later, a great dog stood at the inn door, whimpering to be let in. His mistress was waiting and let the beast enter, saying to the innkeeper, "see that he gets a few bones and let him lie by the fire." Said she more to the dog than her host, "he will ward me and the inn from any disturbance in the night." The dog whimpered pathetically but lay resignedly down in the indicated place.

So it continued for over a year, the lady traveled from place to place upon her own unspoken errands while Corvin served her however she asked it of him. Often he thought ruefully to himself that she treated him no worse than such a harsh lady of any sort might treat her servants, aside from the strange matter of the different guises he was wont to wear. So he served her faithfully, neither hesitated nor disobeyed, and never asked questions. She never seemed pleased with his service but neither did she often criticize or reprimand, which for her must mean she found his service satisfactory. He longed for the day when he would be free of her and able to resume some semblance of a normal human existence, for never was he found in human form except when she had need of a servant or errand boy, otherwise he was almost always a horse by day and a dog by night, the latter costing less to maintain than either horse or servant.

One day as they stopped for a meal at midday in a pleasant glade beside a chattering brook, the lady gasped in outrage. The horse looked up from his grazing and blinked in surprise, for they were not alone in the clearing. A desperate waif of humankind had crept from the edge of the forest and was silently going through the momentarily forgotten saddlebags, looking for anything that might aid his meager existence. The woman snarled the now familiar words that would restore the boy to his human form, and hissed, "destroy this impudent wretch who dares trifle with my belongings!"

Corvin had a dagger at his belt and the thin, wasted child before him was no match for even such an inexperienced foe. But the boy's heart pitied this poor wretch who was slowly starving and an outcast from all kith and kin. His hesitation brought the witch's wrath to bear upon himself, said she in grim warning, "I bid you act, will you dare defy me and risk the consequences?"

Corvin shook his head, "do your worst madam, I will not raise my hand against so desperate a child of men nor any other innocent whom your fury deems worthy of destruction."

She stared at him in wonder, as if she had never seen him before, but then said with cold indifference, "very well, you have earned whatever I deem to be your fate. Come, I want to make the next village by nightfall." During the exchange, the terrified orphan had vanished into the surrounding woods and her fury with him. She said her fell words, mounted the now dejected horse, and rode off into the sunny afternoon, saying placidly, "this then is your doom: tomorrow I shall sell you to the first interested party in the horse markets yonder and never more shall you wear the guise of a mortal man." For the first time in their acquaintance, she laughed, and it was not a pleasant sound. He resigned himself to his fate, for he knew she had neither mercy nor pity marring her soul, at least he would not be left to wonder at her revenge. He wondered if sparing so meager a life could be worth his own, but that same inner whisper that had once cried out in horror at serving such a mistress, though appalled at his own fate, did not repine his choice, regardless of the consequences. He sighed deeply but bore his mistress faithfully upon their last ride together, wondering what his beloved would do when he never returned more. For the first and last time, she stabled the beast that night and upon the morrow led him out into the thronging bustle of a market day.

True to her word, she offered the creature to the first dealer of horseflesh with whom she chanced to meet. He eyed the animal skeptically, thinking there must be more that the woman was not saying. Here was a fine, well-trained, and compliant animal and the woman was determined to be rid of it. What was the catch? Said he in some consternation, "madam, never have I seen such a fine specimen with an owner so adamant that I take the beast off their hands. What hidden fault are you trying so desperately to be rid of with none the wiser?"

She smiled sweetly, at least as she thought, but looked more like she had a toothache, "he is only a bit stubborn on occasion. I tire of the beast and am in the market for another."

He eyed the stallion incredulously, "I still do not believe you. I'll take him, but at half the price you offered, I may have to get him gelded if he is such a handful as you claim and that is a trouble and expense I would rather avoid."

Her smile deepened cruelly as she replied, "very well, you should probably do just that."

"We'll see," said the man grimly as he counted out her money. The horse looked on the verge of panic as this conversation was going on, but thankfully the man did not like the woman whatsoever and seemed far more inclined to do just the opposite of whatever she recommended. She turned one last, vile smile upon the unfortunate beast and vanished into the swirling crowds. The merchant turned to the horse and said, "well beastie, you had yourself a very foul mistress, I pity you that, but I will not hold her words against you. I'll give you a chance to prove yourself before we do anything regrettable."

"Ho, there! Merchant!" the man turned from the beast to see who was hailing him, covering his astonishment with a genuine smile.

"What can I do for you my Lord?" asked the horse dealer.

"I like the look of that beast, how much do you want for him?" asked the noble young man.

The man could not cover his astonishment and said, "I hardly know, my Lord, he has just come into my possession and I cannot vouch for his health, training, soundness, or temper."

Said the young Prince with an eager grin, "I will assume all the risk then." He named a price twice that of what the merchant had hoped and was soon in possession of the beast. He climbed aback his new purchase and slowly waded through the throng of people, leaving the merchant to gape and then rejoice in the events of the day.

The young Prince met his entourage at an inn on the edge of town and they gawked at his purchase and the price thereof. To them it was a fine, but rather unremarkable grey horse, but the Prince felt he had somehow done something quite grand, if he could not say exactly what. Against the better judgment of his companions and even himself, he had felt a great urge to go into the very heart of the teeming market that morning upon quest unknown, but the moment he glimpsed the horse, he knew he must own the beast. With the day still young before them, all felt it time to return home and they set off with a good will, if a bit perplexed as to the strange addition to their party. Corvin, quite grateful to the enigmatical young lord he now bore, rejoiced in this sudden change in his otherwise grim destiny and showed the young man that he was no common sort of horse. By the time they returned to the castle, the entire party knew that this was perhaps the most wondrous horse ever foaled, though little enough did they know he never had been.

The horse bore his master faithfully wherever he had a mind to go and the Prince would far rather walk than be found astride any other beast. Whether upon a journey of state, in grand procession, in pursuit of game, in the joust, or upon a pleasurable jaunt, ever did the creature bear him with grace and skill heretofore unknown to unthinking beast. Even when war loomed and battle called, so too did Corvin bear his master upon the path of death and sword. The King slain, but his Kingdom triumphant, now Corvin bore the newly crowned King upon the road of peace.

Some months after he had laid his father in the grave and finalized peace with his warring neighbors, the new King stood in the stableyard of the castle with his faithful steed at his side, said he, "if only I could find a wife as faithful as thee, my dear, strange friend." The horse reared and tossed his head in excitement and the King stared at the beast, as if he feared him mad. But it was not fury but eagerness that tinged his screams. The King felt a very great desire to mount the suddenly fey beast, the same urging he had felt the propitious day of their meeting. He shook his head ruefully, but dared not deny this great urging of horse and heart, and flung himself into the saddle. The horse dashed off into the rising morn with all the speed he possessed. They ran madly out of the city and off into the golden mists of dawn, wherein the King doubted not some fairy maiden waited his coming.

It was no fairy maiden or even an elfin city that the King found later that day, it was simply a village as ordinary as any other, but therein dwelt a maid of equal heart to that of his wonderful beast. Corvin knew he could never marry his beloved, but he also knew his master to be a man of great heart, compassion, and sense and that his erstwhile lady could not find a better husband nor the Kingdom a better Queen. They stopped outside the lady's door and the King dismounted, quite perplexed but strangely eager. He eyed the horse curiously and the beast gave him an encouraging shove with his head. His Majesty shook his head and smiled ruefully, but knocked boldly upon the door; it was answered by a comely young woman, whose eyes held some secret sorrow momentarily superseded by astonishment, to find the King upon her doorstep. Corvin's heart smote him sore, that the lady was so consumed with grief at his continued absence and wished somehow to ease her heart, but perhaps new love was the only answer to such sorrow. Quite awkwardly, she asked His Highness to come in if he would.

The King was smitten almost from the first with this beautiful, sweet creature, and her silent agony became a foe he was determined to fight and rescue her from, as if it were a dragon that held her captive. He came, day after day, and listened as she poured out her heart or they talked quietly together of many things as they walked in the summer glories of wood and meadow. It had been five years since her beloved had gone away and never more had she heard of him; at last she was forced to lay aside all her maiden hopes of his returning and found herself at last free of the untimely old age of grief and sorrow and again a joyous young maid, free to live and to love, as no promise but disappointed love bound her to her lost beloved. Corvin's heart both ached and rejoiced at the budding romance, but he knew her love could not be his nor should she be bound to one who would never return. She grew as fond of the uncanny horse as her royal suitor, and in this Corvin rejoiced. They were soon married and the whole Kingdom marveled at the match, but rejoiced to learn she was such a fair and gracious lady, though a peasant born.

The years passed and ever did that faithful steed bear his lord, his lady, and all their many children whither they would. The eldest Prince was often abroad on the exciting but rather trifling adventures that are the essence of life itself to all young creatures under the sun. On one such foray, he and the faithful beast strayed into a wild and forbidden part of the realm on an errand now quite forgotten but whose results lived on in the young man's memory for the rest of his life. For here there be bandits and other lawless men who dared not show their faces in the more civilized parts of the realm. And into a party of such outlaws did the intrepid pair ride and just as quickly turn tail and flee back the way they had come. The scofflaws poured insults and arrows after the fugitives but Corvin's great heart bore him up even as the arrows embedded in his flesh tried to pull him down, but he would not abandon his young master to death or worse at the hands of those that pursued them.

Finally ahead, he glimpsed a company in the colors of the King's guard and at last he could go no further. He collapsed to the earth, breathing harshly and flinging the hapless boy from the saddle, but the guards rushed upon the young Prince, one bearing him to safety while the others gave chase to the murderous vagabonds who had pursued him. The boy cried out in despair to be sundered from his failing beast but they dared not risk the boy's safety and carried him mercilessly back to the castle where his parents welcomed him tearfully home, but soon bemoaned the grim fate of the faithful creature themselves and rode out with all haste to see what had come of the matter once the renegades were dealt with. The entire Kingdom thought the King as mad as his onetime companions had thought him, the day a seemingly errant thought sent him into a market village in search of a remarkable horse, when he ordered that the beast be interred among the graves of all his Royal forebears and the Royal family gathered to mourn its passing.

The horse lay dying and momentarily forgotten, as the young Prince was borne to safety and the bandits were pursued. A light engulfed the stricken beast, at least to his own perception, though none standing about would have witnessed anything odd, and a great, compassionate voice said, "faithful heart, would you live on in this mortal world as the wisest and fairest of creatures that go on four legs or would you pass beyond the shadows of this world and come again into the inheritance of men, though long have you been sundered from your kindred?" The beast could not speak, but the voice knew well the secret language of heart and soul, the meaning of all silent words. He was tired, so dreadfully tired, his had been a meaningful life, one of purpose and joy, but to his very soul he was a man, had always been, would always be, regardless of his physical form. And with no little joy, he doffed his weary mortal coil and slipped beyond the shadows.

Old chairs to mend! Old chairs to mend!

I never would cry old chairs to mend,

If I'd as much money as I could spend,

I never would cry old chairs to mend.

~Nursery Rhyme~

If Only...

Tom sat disconsolately on his doorstep, wondering what was the point of life. He was neither rich nor terribly handsome; he had no great prospects before him, just to continue in the footsteps of all his forefathers and till the bit of earth that had been in their family's keeping since time immemorial, or at least since his great-great-grandfather was a boy, which was basically the same thing. There was nothing wrong with farming, it was a respectable living, but he would never be rich and there was also a good chance of things getting very tight now and again should the rain not come or a blight appear. He sighed heavily, wishing with all his heart for some way out of his current predicament. And as in all fairy tales, his wish soon attracted the attention of a well-meaning fairy: the pesky creatures are drawn to wishes like moths to flame.

She settled quite prettily upon his knee and peered up at him with merrily dancing, but not very wise, eyes. A smile came unbidden to his troubled young face as he realized this mirthful creature might give him all the desires of his heart. Said she without preamble, in a voice like a baby's laugh, "you wish to be all things that you are not? I cannot bear to see a young creature unhappy, happiness is the province of youth after all, so I must restore you to your native soil. Let it be as you wish it!" She smiled cheekily at him and vanished in a rosy flash of light. Tom stood, stretched, and eagerly went back into the house to pack, knowing full well that his dreams had only just begun.

His family was just sitting down to dinner when he walked past, satchel on his back. His mother smiled knowingly and shook her head ruefully; his father momentarily took his pipe out of his mouth in curiosity but soon enough went back to his puffing. Said Tom, with near giddiness, "well, my fortune is assured and I am off to seek it." They all wished him well, knowing this strange wandering sickness was a common affliction of boys his age, and also knowing the cure was to let him have his head and discover that the wide world was a far harsher place than the stories fully told. He would be back before a fortnight was out. His sensible mother did insist that he at least wait until after dinner to go forth and seek his destiny and saw that he was well stocked with provender to last him a week or so. As the sun was now setting, he decided to wait until the morrow and leave after a filling breakfast.

But his wish was not to be, as he had failed to go forth and seize his good fortune by the horns, it sensibly came a-knocking in search of him. In the twilight, a very short but richly clad man stood upon the doorstep, when his mother answered the summons, the spectacle asked very grandly whether 'Young Master Tom' would kindly accompany him. Tom happily snatched up his satchel, kissed his mother in passing, and was gratified to see his father's pipe drop to the floor in his utter astonishment. He waved a farewell and was handed up into the lavish coach that stood waiting; the smartly clad herald doing his best not to sniff at the lad's sturdy but unfashionable peasant garb. Nothing so mortified his stuffy heart as seeing a socialite so improperly attired. He shut the door and launched himself onto the back of the vehicle as it set off into the night. Tom held his satchel in his lap and stared dreamily off into space, imagining what grandeur and wonder waited at journey's end.

He must have dozed off, for the pallid grey and rose of dawn had transformed the misty, waking world into a dream when he woke. The clatter of the horses suddenly ceased as the coach drew up before a great and beautiful house; the wee little man was immediately at the door and waiting for the boy to descend. Tom clutched his satchel and stepped from the equipage, feeling all of a sudden very lonely and small before the intimidating structure. The servant pretended not to notice his discomfiture and motioned for him to follow into the house. Tom obeyed and they found themselves in a room whose sole purpose appeared to be the scrubbing and cleansing of dirty aristocrats. Tom was duly washed and outfitted in apparel far more satisfying to the Steward's taste and was then allowed to eat a meal that was called breakfast, but to Tom's sensibilities it seemed far grander than any King's feast.

Once the necessities were finished, the Steward asked if his lordship had a moment to become acquainted with his new situation. Tom heartily agreed, having no idea exactly what it was he found himself in the middle of, save that it was thanks to a fairy's well-intentioned meddling. They went to the library where Tom was seated by the fire in a monstrous, velvet chair while the Steward stood politely at his elbow, speaking thus, "welcome home Sir, we are most grateful that you have finally arrived. We have been keeping up the Residence as instructed by your predecessors in anticipation of your arrival. And I hope you find everything far exceeding your expectations. You are Lord and Master of all the land hereabouts within a day's hard ride; it is to do with as you please."

Tom smiled broadly and asked, "how is it I am Lord here, peasant that I am?"

The Steward shook his head gravely, "that is a matter into which we mere servants dare not inquire. We are here to serve, not question." He bowed stiffly and asked, "what are your first orders, my Lord?"

Tom shook his head, "I have never been a Lord before and am quite a stranger in this place, what is a usual day like?"

The Steward said awkwardly, little liking the position of having to explain anything to one of his 'betters,' "we are at your service Sir, ask and we shall obey. The only thing routine or usual in this house shall be that which you proclaim to be so."

Tom said in wonder, "whatever I say goes? Have I no duties or responsibilities?"

The Steward shook his head, "that you alone know, again it is not ours to question but simply to obey."

Said Tom in impish delight, "then I want to host a ball, the most extravagant the neighborhood has ever seen, to celebrate my arrival. Can you invite a princess or three?"

The Steward bowed eagerly, "would tonight be acceptable, sir?"

Tom stared, "really? That soon!"

The Steward seemed rather insulted, "of course, my Lord, we are always ready for whatever you might wish or propose."

Tom shook his head in wonder, "very well, tonight will be perfect. I would like to tour the grounds during the balance of the day."

The Steward bowed and said, "very good Sir." He then vanished from the room, leaving Tom to himself. He smiled eagerly, knowing this was only the beginning. He went to the stable and ordered his horse, which turned out to be a sleek, high-spirited but willing beast. He mounted eagerly and rode about until he was truly sick of viewing the immaculately landscaped grounds, the impeccable woods, and the tidy farmsteads that dotted his domain. The villages were something out of a storybook and he was certain that nothing of note had or would ever happen therein. It all seemed too perfect.

A groom took the sweaty horse and a servant waited to escort him back to the bath chamber to expunge the evidence of his ride. And then it was on to a sumptuous late lunch before preparing for the evening's excitement. He was primped and dandied and dressed until he was ready to scream, but the result was impressive. He descended to the ballroom and the Steward told him that his guests had arrived and were waiting his pleasure, with no less than five princesses in attendance. Agape, the young lord allowed himself to be herded to his place and tried to remember names as he was introduced to half the population of the planet. Afterwards, he danced with anyone vaguely human and female in attendance that was ranked above a lady's maid. After that, they sat down to a feast grand enough to bankrupt a King, before resuming their dancing. Exhausted and bewildered, His Lordship crawled gratefully into bed as the sun was again gracing the sky.

The Steward interrupted his repose to politely remind His Lordship that he had promised to go hunting with several of the young men he had met at the ball the previous evening. Tom groaned but allowed himself to be duly prepared for the outing. His companions laughed and talked ceaselessly, about what, Tom could not fathom but he joined in with a hollow laugh and a fake smile. Priding himself on having survived the day, he hoped to go early to bed, but the Steward reminded him that he had promised a visit to a neighboring Lord that evening in recompense for the ball. Tom sighed but again resigned himself to his fate. So it was that days passed into weeks and then into months, and ever was Tom visiting or being visited by various royal or noble personages, all with painted smiles and empty laughter, saying nothing worth remembering an hour hence. Worse, every unmarried girl old enough to be out in public, some older than his mother, flung herself or was flung by various mothers, aunts, and sisters into his way. For one always surrounded by people, he found himself very much alone.

Finally, one bright day in the early autumn, he told his Steward that he wanted a day off from the continual merriment and was going for a ride. The Steward was aghast that his master would flout tradition and ignore his many invitations and guests, but would not dare defy a direct order. So it was that young Tom rode off while the Steward hastily wrote elaborate and insincere excuses to all those who would soon be affronted by such unseemly behavior.

Tom galloped off into the burgeoning day, refreshed by the stillness of the world about him and the chill in the air. An hour later, he dismounted and led the weary beast to a small stream in the midst of a meadow in which a flock of sheep was grazing peacefully at the far end. He watched the young shepherdess with some envy as she quietly tended her charges, as yet unaware of the stranger in her meadow; he thought wistfully back to his own rustic duties, what seemed a lifetime ago. Suddenly, her tranquility was shattered as she noticed the richly garbed youth and well-bred horse that had invaded her pastoral refuge. She bowed nervously, still at a great distance, and hastily gathered up her sheep, intent on driving them to a pasture where they would not disturb His Lordship. Tom sighed mournfully, mounted his horse, and rode slowly out of the meadow, leaving the lady to her sheep.

As he passed a small cottage in his retreat, a sudden whimsical smile lit his face, the first real smile he had borne in many days; he turned in at the gate and knocked upon the door. The aged woman who answered his summons stared at him in surprise and dread, bowed inexpertly, and said graciously, if with a nervous trill, "what may I do for you, my Lord?"

Tom grinned foolishly, "I wish to make an exchange madam. Have you a horse and a set of clothes to trade for my own?"

She stared at him in incomprehension, "nay lord, I have but a poor beast and only the rough garb of my late husband, I have nothing that would be of service or worth to you!"

He nodded eagerly, "exactly madam, that is what I wish. Take my finery and give me your serviceable items in their stead."

She shook her head in wonder but motioned for him to come in. She spent a little time rummaging in drawer and trunk while he sipped hastily brewed tea, but finally she produced some plain, but well made, clothes that would fit the lad reasonably well. He left the tired, but expensive horse in the small lean-to that served as barn and stable and mounted the aged sorrel gelding that had once pulled cart and plow. He told the good lady in parting, "keep or sell what I have given you madam, whatever serves you best! Farewell." He turned the ancient beast and plodded back towards the meadow wherein the shepherdess waited with her sheep.

The appearance of a peasant lad did not frighten the poor lass, as had the daunting vision of a nobleman in the distance. She even went so far as to share her noon meal with him once she was convinced he was simply a weary traveler rather than either villain or lord. They shared a merry meal together and spoke of her stock, the weather, village gossip, her kin, and the crops. As the sun was setting, Tom was reluctant to leave, having had a real conversation for the first time since his advent into this strange reality and feeling again as if he were a mortal man, rather than a puppet that wandered purposelessly from one grand entertainment to the next. The girl saw his unease and misinterpreting it said, "come home with me, my father would gladly put you up for the night and my mother will have a good supper on the table." He smiled gratefully at her and accompanied her home, showing himself well accustomed to the practice as he helped her gather up the scattered flock for the night.

The Steward watched intently all the day and well into the night, but the boy never returned. He sighed heavily and knew that his Lordship was forever lost to them, as had so many been before him. He went to tell the other servants to put the house in order that they might await their next ephemeral Lord. Tom eventually married the shepherdess and returned to his unassuming life, now quite content therein. The insipid but well-meaning fairy continued to grant wishes, that for some reason never quite brought their recipients the joy and meaning they had anticipated, but rather taught them to appreciate that which they already had, which was truly a wish come true.

_A cloud was on the mind of men,_

and wailing went the weather,

Yea, a sick cloud upon the soul

When we were boys together.

~G.K. Chesterton, 'The Man Who Was Thursday'~

Come What May

They had ridden into the village with the dawning, a great Knight and his retainers, his armor stained crimson by the rising morn. Curiosity drew the entire town and most of its outlying residents to gather upon the green and gape at the fellow as if they had never seen a stranger before. True, the village was rather small and remote, but merchants and travelers still found their way thither on a regular basis, but true warriors and heroes never ventured into such a place. The ladies brought out various food stuffs and everyone changed into their holiday best; soon it was a veritable festival while the Knight stood in their midst regaling one and all with many a tale of his daring do. The village boys eyed his companions with envy, wishing they too could be on the road to adventure and renown. A slight smile and a knowing look sparkled in the Knight's eyes as he saw the thoughtful look upon the face of almost every lad in the village, knowing how his stories enthralled their young and eager hearts, he continued to pour out his tales. At last, he stopped for breath and food, and the villagers assaulted him with their myriad questions and glowing admiration. He answered as he might and watched his audience keenly, gaging the appropriate moment to set the hook.

At last, he felt the time had come and he sprung the trap, "I suppose there might be a youth or two in this village with the courage and heart to set forth in quest of adventures unknown, to return himself one day a hero and man of renown?" The mothers in the crowd blanched in fear, the fathers smiled proudly, the girls cheered eagerly, and almost every lad burst into exuberant shouts that he was just such a lad. The Knight let the furor die down and continued, "very well, any and all who think themselves possessed of the necessary mettle can accompany me." The cheers resumed and he set about telling them what would be needed for the upcoming journey.

Only one lad did not share in the joy of the occasion, Tabor stood in the shadows of the forge and watched his fellows and the stranger with a sad, quiet resignation. The boy was of a sickly and weak disposition, his widowed mother had recently died, making him an orphan as well. He was tolerated by his folk, but no more could be said of his situation. The lads his own age made his life a torment and the girls would have nothing to do with him, save to laugh among themselves when they thought he was not looking. Of all the folk in the village, he had the least holding him there, but such a valiant hero certainly would not want such a pathetic creature tagging along in his wake. So the boy hid in the shadows, watched his fellows with a breaking heart, and wondered what his own future might hold.

A quiet, heartening voice interrupted his thoughts and said unexpectedly beside him, "why are you not intending to head off into the wild unknown with all your peers lad?"

The boy stared at the second stranger in befuddlement, who was this that would deign to speak to him? The man was plainly clad, a stark contrast to the Knight in his glittering mail, but carried a sword at his hip as if he knew well the use of the weapon. His eyes held warmth, humor, and wisdom, and the boy felt no scorn in the man's question or regard. Said the boy in a timid whisper, "they would not have me sir, even if I dared make my hopes known and their censure would be more than I could bear."

The man nodded in understanding, a grim look on his face, "that man is not all he appears nor are his promises what they seem. Do not be too disappointed that you cannot accompany him, I fear many of your friends will rue their current eagerness before all is finished."

The boy stared at the stranger in even more astonishment, "who are you to condemn this man?"

The man smiled wryly, "we were boys together, I have known him all my life and I know whom he serves."

Said the boy in surprise, "should we not warn them if their fate shall be as dire as you say?"

The man shook his head sadly, "who would listen to either of us? I am a poor stranger and you a despised local, our antipathy towards this man would only encourage them further. The signs are there if your folk are willing to see them, but they are likely blinded by their own greed and pride."

Tabor looked more closely at the richly clad stranger and for the first time truly saw him. Though his words were eager and fervent, there was an undeniable undercurrent of derision and grimness in tone and manner. His eyes sparkled with glee, but it was a malicious sort of joy, knowing he had these unsuspecting whelps exactly where he wanted them. His own retainers were silent not in awe but in a gloomy sort of resignation. The boy took all this in and turned astonished eyes upon his companion, saying, "what then shall be their fate if they go with this deceitful fellow?"

The man shook his head, "a few may find their way into the Knighthood of his vile master, as promised, while the majority will become common foot soldiers in his army or servants in his halls or fields."

Tabor smiled in spite of himself, "at least here they are free men and will one day inherit their fathers' land or trade, but to become a menial in another man's field when one sets out to become a Knight must be a harsh blow indeed."

The man nodded, "aye lad, they shall become veritable slaves in service to a grim and terrible King, never seeing their homes or families again, unless they return as this fellow has done, to recruit more unsuspecting fools into his master's service."

Tabor said sadly, "at least I never need worry about catching his eye. But what is to become of me?"

The man smiled, "whatever you wish lad!"

The boy glanced around morosely, "my greatest wish is to leave this place and see what the world holds for me, but alas, at least here I have food and shelter, wretched as it may be. If I left, I might find myself starving upon the highway or freezing under a hedge."

The man shook his head and smiled warmly, "I could at least see that you escaped starvation and frostbite."

The boy's eyes were wide with incredulity, "did you not just caution me not to go off with a stranger? How am I to know that the fate of my fellows or worse, shall not befall me at your hands?" The man only looked at him and the boy was forced to draw conclusions from what he could see and feel about this man. He sighed heavily and said ruefully, "very well, I suppose you and he are not cast from the same mold. What would be the purpose of me accompanying you?"

The man shrugged, "I am a warrior in my own right, certainly not as bold and showy as my deceitful counterpart over there, but no less skilled for all of that. You could become my apprentice and learn what you must, going your own way whenever you tire of my company." The boy laughed at the incongruity of thinking himself a warrior of any stripe but the man continued, "I know you think yourself too sick, weak, and pathetic for such a life, but there is more to you than you know lad. In my experience, it is the heart of a man that counts for everything, physical strength is secondary."

The boy thoughtfully studied his companion for a few moments, smiled contentedly, and nodded, saying, "very well, I will accompany you and let us hope you can make something vital and useful out of this frail and unassuming bit of mankind."

The man slapped him on the back eagerly and said, "very well lad, we shall set off at first light tomorrow. I will try to convince some of your fellows to rethink their eagerness in the interim."

The pair withdrew from the shadows in which they had been conversing and companionably joined the gathering on the green. Most did not notice their presence, focused as they were on the other stranger, but the few that did gave the pair an affronted glare before turning their attention back to the veritable hero before them. As afternoon faded into evening, the still excited party withdrew into the inn to continue the celebration. The brilliant warrior continued to extol the vague glories of what the lads would find upon their quest and all hung on his words with trepidation and joy; he spared the plainly clad stranger one scornful look and then continued on as if the man was not there. Said Tabor after the interaction, "he seems to consider you a nuisance, but not enough of a bother to spare more than a glance."

The man smiled deeply, "aye lad, he knows I am no real threat to his pontifications and schemes and any lad interested in the likes of me would be of absolutely no interest to him. I am a fly, a mere pest, and nothing more."

As the night wore on, the Knight withdrew to his room, but bid his companions to be ready to ride at first light. The jubilant youths finally noticed Tabor's presence and his uninteresting companion. They ignored the stranger and did their best to make him know how fully they despised and scorned him, and how glad they were that he would not survive two days upon such a journey. Tabor bore their torment patiently and the stranger said nothing. Finally, as their contempt wound down, the man spoke, "lads, have you fully considered what it might mean to go off with this man, no questions asked?"

Sneered the largest of the bunch, "we will do as we please! Who are you to question our motives, desires, or actions?"

The man shook his head sadly, "I only ask that you fully think out what it might mean to place yourselves in the power of such a man with only his vainglorious promises for assurance." They laughed scornfully at him and withdrew into a small knot to discuss their own bright futures amongst themselves.

Tabor said quietly, "you were correct in your assumptions of trying to talk sense to them. Your attempts only make them more eager." He sighed heavily, "if only there was something I could do."

The man smiled quietly and said, "by coming with me, you are doing all you can. Who knows what their futures or your own holds? Mayhap you will be the one to rescue them from the peril into which they are blindly and willingly flinging themselves." All sought their beds soon after, for they would leave early on the morrow.

The Knight appeared the next morning in all his splendor and a half dozen youths soon joined him on the green, most afoot but two of the more affluent riding unremarkable horses. The man sniffed at their pathetic mounts but hid his derision well. He glanced at his recruits in surprise, for twice their number had eagerly thronged about him the previous day, but well was he used to the first eagerness dying utterly when faced with the terror of riding off into the unknown, and he needed no such cowards. The plainly clad stranger and Tabor led their equally unremarkable horses out onto the green beside the gathering party.

Sneered the same boy from the previous evening, "I see you are setting out as well and have even found yourself a companion worthy of equal contempt."

Said the Knight sharply, "enough chatter in the ranks, let us be on our way." At this unexpectedly harsh statement, another lad drew back, drawing a glare from their leader, but he quickly dismissed the coward from his mind and ordered his remaining minions out of the village. The overbold youth sneered at the reluctant lad, Tabor, and the other stranger with equal scorn before he vanished around a bend in the road.

The stranger said eagerly, "we too should be on our way." He glanced at the remaining youth and said, "you have made a wise decision lad, do not regret what you have done. The man's charm is only skin deep and your companions will learn that only too late."

Tabor clambered into his saddle, quite unused to riding, but grateful for the horse the stranger had provided. The man watched him in amusement and then led the way out of the village. The remaining youth watched them ride off and wondered what would come of it all. He smiled to think that Tabor of all people was actually riding off on such a venture while he remained safely at home. He turned back towards home and was welcomed joyously back by his distraught mother.

The years passed and no word had yet come back to that particular village of the fate that had befallen any of its missing lads, either for good or ill. On a dreary day of rain, five years after the boys had ridden out so boldly and joyously in the morning, a weary traveler turned in at the inn and sank gratefully into a chair beside the fire. The innkeeper left the table he was wiping and hastened to greet his only guest, for it was yet early in the day. Said the rather young host to the thoroughly wet man, "what would be your pleasure, my good man?"

The man's eyes sparkled in amusement as they met those of the unwitting innkeeper and he ordered something warm to drink. The innkeeper frowned at the man's inexplicable mirth but hastened back to the kitchens to procure his beverage. He had gone two steps when he froze and turned back towards the unnamed man, still sitting in his chair and amusedly watching him. The host returned and said in astonishment, "Tabor? Can it be you?"

The man laughed heartily and threw his arms around the innkeeper, who had once been the reluctant boy on the green. They laughed joyously and exchanged surprise and wonder at the changes the years had wrought. The innkeeper shook his head in astonishment, "look at you man! No one would believe you were once a frail, sickly creature!" He laughed more deeply, "look at me! I married the innkeeper's daughter and now run the place in his stead." He sobered, "what has come of the others?"

Tabor shook his head, "I have not seen them since the day of our parting, but knowing the man with whom they left, I cannot say their fate was a happy one."

Just then the door burst open and immediately the intruder began demanding a hot drink and a bath. Both of the men stared at the newcomer in amazement, but strangely not surprised somehow, to see Tyne standing there in the regalia of a full knight. The loudest, boldest, and largest of the lads that had fled the village that day had achieved that which he had set out in pursuit of. A sneer twisted his face as he recognized the innkeeper but he was clueless as to who the other man might be; he would never have recognized Tabor standing there with a sword on his hip, a man full of vigor and strength or believed it was he, even if he had. He ignored the fool and repeated his demands. The innkeeper bobbed a bow and immediately set about his preparations. Tyne nodded sharply, took off the bulk of his sodden outer layers, and threw himself into a chair by the fire.

Apparently bored while waiting for his bath, the knight said condescendingly to his companion, "so what brings you here?"

Tabor smiled ruefully and resumed his own chair by the fire, "just passing through on other business when the weather encouraged me to turn in here."

The knight scoffed, "I can't abide a man who has not the strength of will or body to endure whatever may come, a little rain never hurt anyone!"

Tabor did his best to conceal his amusement, knowing this bold knight was here for the same reasons as himself. Said he as blandly as he could manage, "then what brings you here, Sir Knight?"

The knight glared at the stranger's temerity for a moment, but then relaxed and said as he settled back into his chair, "you would be wise not to question your betters boy, but my master's business has me in the area and as I grew up here, I thought it might be amusing to visit my boyhood home." He eyed the stranger coldly, taking in everything about the man, before hissing, "I know what you are and I do not appreciate meddlers in my affairs. Mind your own business and there need not be any trouble."

Tabor laughed quietly to himself but said nothing in reply, for the innkeeper had returned with their drinks and said the bath would soon be ready. The Knight grunted his assent and chased the man off with another glare. The Knight sipped from the steaming mug, winced as he burned his lips, and turned his attention back to his pathetic companion, said he, "you don't need to live like this you know? You could wear the finest clothes, ride a decent horse, and sleep at an inn every night upon the road. You need not be a poorly clad vagrant who sleeps under a hedge as often as not. My master is a generous man to those skilled enough to earn his patronage."

Tabor scoffed, "I know full well who and what your master is and I wish nothing to do with him, no matter how well paid I might be for my trouble. I am content with my lot, but come, tell me what came of the others who rode off with you that day?"

The knight blinked in surprise at both the question and the stranger's outright refusal of his grand offer, recovering quickly, he asked, "how is it you know about that?"

Tabor grinned, "you do not recognize me then?"

The Knight shook his head, "who am I to know every wastrel that wanders the highways?"

Said the man quietly, "I was a lad in this village like yourself, your favorite target for ridicule and scorn."

The Knight blinked again, recognition dawning but not belief, gasped he, "it cannot be!"

Tabor smiled, "I hardly believe it myself, but it is the truth, now come, what of your companions?"

Tyne shook himself, trying to regain his composure, but he finally grunted, "two scrub floors in my master's palace and the other two I doubt are still alive. They were sent to the wars away south as common soldiers and with little training, constant fighting, and rampant disease, the attrition rate is ghastly." He smiled maliciously, "but that is what such miserable wretches deserve." He glared at Tabor, "you would not even have qualified to scrub floors!" He glanced derisively at his sword, "can you actually use that thing?"

Tabor nodded but said nothing, but silently wondered if the man's offer still stood, now that he knew who he was. The innkeeper returned and escorted the Knight towards his waiting bath. Tabor attended to his drink while his mind raced, wondering if this meeting was indeed chance? The Knight returned an hour later and resumed his vacated chair, his drink now cold, but he was quite revived and even a little relaxed, enough at least to tolerate the fool that still sat beside him. "Can you really be content in such service?" asked the Knight at last, "You will never have renown or fortune or even a home!"

Tabor smiled contentedly, "those things are not what makes life worth the living. I am very content in my choice of profession. What of you? Even with the glory or fame you seem to think necessary, you cannot be happy serving such a lord?"

The Knight scoffed, "what would you know of it? I am what I ever aspired to be and my master is of exactly the same temperament as myself, so my situation is nearly perfect."

Tabor bowed his head in acquiescence, "very well Sir Knight, I meant no offense."

Tyne scoffed, "I am sure you didn't but your ilk give it by default. I bid you good night." He stood stiffly and vanished towards his room. Tabor donned his cloak and went back out into the rain.

The Knight tried to retire early, but to no avail, he tossed and turned all night and the thoughts swirling in his mind would give him no comfort or rest. He was astonished at the changes wrought in the once sickly youth, the physical improvement was phenomenal, but was actually the least of what perplexed the Knight. The man had met his gaze, answered his challenges, and stood his ground, whereas he had always shrunk from the least insult or frustration when they were boys together. What had changed the boy so much? Tyne knew he himself had changed but little, save in the physical disciplines, he was still very much the boy he once was whereas Tabor had become a man. He did not want to admit to himself that he envied Tabor, but it was the root of his unease on that disquiet night. They had both set out seeking their future, but only one of them was truly happy with his lot, and it was not the man who bragged of his might, fame, and valor. He had everything the other man did not, why could he not be content therein? What was his secret, what was he hiding? He must find out.

The Knight rose before the sun, hoping his quarry had not escaped him. The dismal rain of the previous night gave way to a mist shrouded dawn of gold and rose; the trees and grass glistened as if begemmed. The innkeeper assured the Knight that Tabor had not slept at the inn, and familiar with the local area from his youth, it was not difficult to guess where the vagrant had secreted himself for the night. The man was just stowing the last of his gear in his saddlebags when the Knight entered the little glade with drawn sword. Tabor turned around suddenly, hand on his hilt and fire in his eyes. The Knight took an unconscious step back when his gaze met Tabor's, not expecting to find a warrior of such caliber in the guise of his childhood prey.

"What do you want Tyne?" said Tabor coldly.

Tyne laughed in spite of himself, "I see you are utterly changed indeed." He sheathed his weapon and held up his hands in token of peace, "I want what you have."

Tabor relaxed and warmed significantly, "what I have?"

Tyne nodded and looked at the ground, discomfited, "your life is not easy but you are happy. Mine is relatively luxurious but I am discontent."

Tabor snorted, "and you thought to come and take that by force?"

Tyne seemed fascinated by his toe, with which he was trying to dig a hole, "I thought perhaps to end my disquiet by ending your content. Perhaps if there was no comparison I would be more at ease." He shook his head grimly, "but murder would not avail me."

Tabor shook his head in astonishment, "no, it would only make things worse, but all men can have what I have found." Tyne looked up hopefully, as he continued, "but you cannot find it serving as an agent of deceit or in pursuing your own selfish motives." Tyne looked rather uneasy at this statement, but he knew the man was right, if only he would admit it to himself.

"What must I do?" came the plaintive question.

Tabor shook his head, "it is a question of heart, not of action. Are you willing to change your heart as well as your actions? You can find peace and contentment scrubbing floors with a humble heart but even were you King, you would be discontent with your current attitude."

The man's words did not sit well with the uncomfortable Knight and his sword was again bare between them, snarled he, "how dare you preach to me!"

Tabor had his own blade out and said wryly, "are you not the one who demanded such answers of me?" Tyne only snarled as he leapt upon his foe. Tabor easily drove him off and then they began to circle. Tabor asked, "what is the point of all this? How will one of us killing the other avail either of us? It is your own uneasy heart with which you must wrestle, not me!" Tyne snarled again and launched himself fully into the altercation, knowing only that he could not allow this prattling fool to live.

When it was finished, Tyne sat propped against a tree, clutching his wounded arm and gasping for air while the unscathed Tabor stood over him, looking grim and wondering what to do with the unstable Knight. Tyne puffed out, "I will not be beaten by you!" He leapt to his feet, still clutching his arm, and bolted into the woods. Tabor stared after in disbelief, but felt he had best move on before Tyne considered a rematch or found reinforcements. He flung himself into his saddle and rode off quickly in the opposite direction.

Tyne fled blindly into the woods, leaving his horse, sword, retainers, and luggage behind him, knowing only the bitterness of an agonized soul in grief and defeat. For two days he heedlessly ran deeper into the wildwoods on the border of his own master's grim country and that of his birth. His mind reeled, his arm throbbed, and he could not rest, save for when exhaustion forced him from his feet for a few hours but then as soon as strength returned, he would charge off again, trying vainly to flee the horrors indwelling his own soul. Bitterness, fury, grief, humiliation, and despair raged through him like a blizzard, freezing his heart and numbing his mind. All he could think about was revenge. At last he collapsed and lapsed into dreams dark and grim. He awoke to find himself utterly lost in a dank and dreary forest of ancient trees hung about with hoary moss. He shivered, whether in cold, terror, or revulsion, he did not know, but a sudden gust of wind chilled him to the bone and felt as cold as Death itself. He sat up and glanced warily about him, wondering how to exact revenge when he was not even sure where he was at the moment. His gaze soon fell upon the source of the morbid wind, a cold smile grew on his lips as he stood and made his way thither.

A cave gaped in the side of a hill a stone's throw from where he had fallen, and from thence did the fell wind come. He stared grimly into the fathomless void and knew he looked upon one of the fabled entrances into the Abyss; here would be the ideal place to strike the bargain that would guarantee his revenge upon his pious nemesis, whatever it might cost him. A voice drew his attention and he jumped when he realized he was not alone. A short, bony woman, so twisted and wrinkled with age that he had mistaken her for the dead stump of a weathered tree, sat upon a stone beside the Door, hissed she, "what have the living to do with this place?"

Tyne shivered, his very soul quivering in terror, but he said in a barely audible whisper, "life holds no delight for me any longer, at least while my foe lives, I will pay any price to see him destroyed utterly."

"Well," said she with thoughtful and malicious delight, "perhaps we can strike a bargain." She pointed at the Abyss and cackled, "that is if you are willing to do anything for your revenge?" He shivered but nodded eagerly.

The sun was setting as Tabor drew rein in a little clearing inhabited by a singing brook and the last golden rays of the fleeing sun. He went about his evening chores, but a shadow lay heavy on his heart, he was uneasy as he had never been before. His horse whinnied nervously from across the clearing and seemed to share his inexplicable disquiet. The sun vanished beyond the horizon and a sudden, chill wind came up, driving a thin veil of cloud over the emerging stars and plunging the clearing into blackness. The horse screamed in terror, pulled loose, and fled into the night while the wind howled like a lost soul and carried the scent and cold of the grave. Tabor shuddered, wishing he could flee like the horse, but knowing that whatever was coming would find him regardless. He drew his sword, offered up a silent prayer, and set himself for battle, hoping this menace could be bested with a sword.

"At last," came a chill, malicious laugh, "you will not escape your fate, fool!"

Tabor nearly dropped his sword in surprise, "Tyne! What have you done to yourself?"

The wraith entered the clearing, merely a darker stain in the brooding night, save for a pair of eyes that glowed like embers in the featureless face, it laughed darkly, "this is your fault, all your fault! And now I shall have my revenge, it cost me my soul, but it will be sweet indeed!"

Tabor shuddered and threw down his sword, knowing it would do no good against this otherworldly villain. Said he quietly, "this is all of your own making; I had no part in it."

The shadow squawked indignantly, "you will not even stand and fight, coward? You will not even give me the chance to savor your futile efforts to defend your wretched life?"

Tabor shrugged and said in resignation, "I have no weapon or skill to avail me against whatever it is you are, and neither will I despair, even though all seems utterly hopeless. I will accept whatever is to come and therein shall I be content, come what may."

The wraith howled in agony, "how can this be? Even in death you are content! Where is my revenge? My victory? What is the point if there is no bitterness, sorrow, or terror here at the end? My sacrifice is vain!"

Tabor said quietly, "your whole life has been vain, why did you think this would be any different? It is all for naught!"

"No!!!" shrieked the fiend, "If I cannot have my revenge, at least I can silence your prattling tongue!" He leapt at Tabor, who went to his knees as if he were a condemned man before the block, and then the whole world erupted in a blinding radiance.

Somewhere a cricket chirped, the brook continued its song of eternal mirth, a star peeped out overhead. Tabor sat up slowly; he shook his head and blinked as he tried to ascertain what had just happened. He caught a brief glimpse of a unicorn standing at the edge of the clearing before it turned suddenly and vanished into the night dark wood. His wondering gaze followed after and an incredible peace washed over him, content whatever was to come.

The lion and the unicorn

were fighting for the crown;

the lion beat the unicorn

all around the town.

~Nursery Rhyme~

Fit to Rule?

Silly, silly creatures! Who can rule a land of men but a man himself? Has it ever been anything but trouble when a resident of Faerie thought to impose himself upon a Kingdom of Men? But who dared defy a Lion when he came growling and snarling out of the Wood one day, huge as an elephant, golden as a sunrise? For the King had died but the day before and had left no heir and no instruction as to who should succeed him, leaving the nobles to argue amongst themselves over who should be King and the peasants to worry if war would soon be looming in that once peaceful Kingdom. But then the Lion came and proclaimed himself the rightful King over all the Realm. Perhaps there would be no war, but this King was far more dreadful than any had imagined and what did he know about ruling over men? Just as the awful creature was making himself comfortable upon the throne and graciously preparing to accept the cowering nobles' pledges of fidelity, another arrived to challenge his claims of sovereignty.

This challenger was perhaps even worse a vision to the overwrought sensibilities of these poor mortals than the Lion, at least a lion they knew for a real creature. What was one to make of a Unicorn? He trod through the streets, his coat shining like the moon and his voice ringing like thunder in the valleys, daring the usurper to assume his place upon the throne. The Lion was on his feet in a trice, roaring like an army on the charge, "the crown is mine, do you hear me you broken down old mule? Who are you to rule these mewling wretches when such as I am among them! Away with you ere I grow violent!"

The Unicorn screamed his fury and said, "come kitten, you have no right to rule these pathetic creatures, leave them to me! Go find your mittens ere your mother withholds your allotment of pie!"

The pair met in the market square in the midst of the town and spent many minutes spewing vitriol back and forth in such a loud fashion that the tiles were shaken from the surrounding buildings. At last a timid, 'ahem' sounded in the silence, as they exchanged hateful glares as they panted to regain their breath for another round of violent slurs. They both glared at the cowering creature before them, ready to extinguish him as a noble lady might step upon a beetle. Said the quivering man, "pardon me dread sirs, but would it not be wiser to take this altercation outside the town lest you destroy what you plan to rule in the brewing altercation?"

They exchanged a curt nod at the wisdom of this beetling little man, the city itself seemed to exhale in relief as they withdrew from its confines to continue their exchange of maleficent greetings. So for a century or two they exchanged vile words and then finally came to blows. For a decade the Unicorn would stoutly beat the Lion and then for twenty three years the Lion would have the upper hand. So it was that they fought for years beyond count and still neither could quite declare victory, at last exhausted and hurting, they began another round of verbal abuse which lasted half a millennium and then it was another round of fisticuffs with neither being triumphant for more than three decades running. So intense was their battle that soon they found themselves fighting in a deep valley with the dirt so heaped up around them as to form a new range of mountains, separating them completely from the contested little realm. So ever on did they go, back and forth as the ages passed uncounted and so deep did their valley become, that eventually only the sound of their altercation could be heard and men thought it the voice of a mighty water deep in the gorge below and like were they to continue for all the ages yet to come.

And what of the little realm each had thought to rule? The bold young man who dared suggest they take the contest outside was unanimously declared King and so wisely did he rule, he and a hundred generations of his descendants after him, that the Kingdom flourished as no other on the earth before or after, and still the voices of those two rivals still echo in the deep, even though their intended throne had long since passed into legend, for the Kingdom did eventually collapse, as must all such nations under the sun, yet still did they argue over which was the more fit to be King!

And my lonely spirit thrills,

To see the frosty asters

Like a smoke upon the hills.

~Bliss Carman, 'A Vagabond Song'~

Varied Strangers

Bess sat at the window gazing dreamily out into the golden green light of the evening sun shining through the summer trees; it was on nights such as this that fairies danced and magic happened. She sighed, things like that didn't happen anymore or perhaps never had. She closed her book of fairy tales and legends and went to do something practical. The golden evening had deepened to a purple twilight with a bright moon overhead and a velvet wind, perfumed with clover and hay, dancing among the lilies, when Bess looked up from her mending as someone knocked upon the door. She put down her socks and hastened to answer the summons. Standing without was a stooped, shabby man of indeterminate years who yanked at his lank forelock and mumbled almost coherently, "I begs yer pardon madam, but mights I tend to some odd job or tother in exchange for a bit and sup?"

She stared down at the creature at first aghast, for she was home alone as her father and brothers were away on business, but his seeming plight touched her heart and she immediately drew him into the house, offered him whatever food she had to hand, and began making preparations for a bath, which she estimated he had not had in perhaps a century or more. He was quite astonished to be treated like a guest, rather than as a wandering cur or worse, but he heartily set to the food before him though he did eye the warming water with trepidation. Bess smiled at his uneasy glances and said, "if you are going to sleep in the guest bed, sir, you will be at least as clean as the sheet thereon, else you may suffice yourself with the barn loft."

He yanked his greasy forelock again and seemed to be mumbling a desperate prayer under his breath, but at last he said audibly, "as you likes it miss, as you likes it." She nodded firmly and went to go find some of her brothers' clothes, hoping something might fit her ill clad guest.

He finished his food and she sent him off to bathe after handing him a change of clothes; he stared at the bundle in apprehension but again yanked his hair and muttered under his breath, before facing his sudsy doom. She thought to mend and clean his clothes whilst he partook of his ablutions, but alas, the garments were so dirty and ragged that there was nothing to be done but to retire them to the rubbish heap. He was quite aghast to learn that he was to keep the clothes he had been given, which resulted in more hair pulling and mumbling. She sent him to bed, in a real bed, and went back to her book of tales, thinking she had been practical enough for one night. In the morning she sent him on his way after a hearty breakfast with food enough to last him several days, he vanished into the quickening day with more babbling and forelock yanking and Bess could only smile.

A month later she went into the village to buy a few items for her father, when a dashing young lord aback a beautiful horse galloped past her and splattered mud all over her second best dress. His lordship seemed not to notice, but rather sharply reined in the beast so that he reared and flung more mud from his flailing front hooves. Once the beast was again earthbound, the young rascal dismounted, tossed his reins carelessly to the muddied girl, and said in passing, "see to the beast lass, I shall be back when it suits me." He raised an eyebrow in surprise, "and you might wish to bathe on occasion and don a fresh dress, as you never know when you might meet somebody important!" He shook his head in disgust and entered the nearest shop. Bess stood there holding the reins and gaped after in silent astonishment.

Her practical side reared its head and she led the beast over to the trough that it might at least have a drink. An hour passed and his lordship did not emerge. She sighed and led the beast into the shade and used a borrowed brush to groom the creature. Another hour passed and the day grew hot and Bess's stomach reminded her that it was well past lunchtime. She sat on the grass, held the reins, and waited and still his lordship did not come. At last, as the sun was vanishing behind the hills, his lordship emerged, glanced about for his beast, and finally approached the dirty, hungry, tired maiden. He glanced thoughtfully at the animal, shook his head, climbed into the saddle, and said in farewell, "you missed a spot just in front of the shoulder; good help is just impossible to find in this degenerate age!" He turned the animal and galloped off into the growing shadows. Bess stood, sighed, and trudged home, her errand unaccomplished.

One day a couple months later, her elder brother brought home a handsome stranger he had met on his latest journey upon his father's business. Bess quickly shut her gaping mouth and tried to stifle the strange sensation she felt in her chest, as if her heart were beating abnormally fast; the man was the comeliest example of humanity she had ever beheld, but she reminded herself sternly, she was practical. So she left her weeding and hastened to the house to prepare for their guest, certainly in nowise wanting to make his acquaintance sooner rather than later, though she did slip into her best dress for some reason she could not fathom.

They sat over supper and the man thrilled them with his stories of adventure and intrigue, for he was apparently a very wealthy man and rather important in the ruling circles of his own country. He paid particular attention to the fair maid before him, but there was something in his manner she did not like though she tried very hard to silence this unwanted voice, hoping it wasn't herself being practical again. The men produced their pipes and sat before the fire long into the night, listening to the man's tales, but Bess withdrew to the kitchen to finish cleaning up and then went to bed, but sleep was long in coming as uneasy thoughts played through her mind.

In the morning, the stranger drew the damsel out into the misty garden, soaked with dew and sunshine. She was a bit uneasy to be so alone with a strange man and he smiled at her antsy feet and frightened eyes, saying, "come lady, there is no reason to be nervous, I am a man of honor!"

She stood stock still and eyed him boldly, her timidity suddenly gone at this astounding statement, said she, "are you now, sir? What of all your tales of last night? There was much danger and adventure, but little of integrity and honor."

He spurned her, "you shall die an old maid wench, for no woman alive should be able to resist my charms! What more can you want in a man than what I have to offer? You are too picky and will be left alone!" He turned on his heel and marched away. She stared after aghast, but glad that she had finally listened to that gnawing doubt in her heart that could see past the shallow and daring facade to the selfish and cold creature beneath. A small smile touched her lips as she returned to the vegetable patch to resume her weeding.

The wind had stripped the leaves from the trees but no snow had yet shrouded the grey and brown grimness of the surrounding countryside in splendid white raiment. Bess was returning from the barn with a pail of milk when a stranger met her in the farmyard, said he, "is your husband at home madam?" She shook her head and was about to ask the plainly clad young man to come into the house for some breakfast but he said quickly, "no father or brothers either?" She shook her head again, for they were again away from home. Said he with growing eagerness, "then I will just have to treat with you, lady." He whispered conspiratorially, "just between you and I of course, the menfolk need know nothing of this." He put his hand in his pocket and withdrew it holding a beautiful sapphire ring that Bess knew must be worth far more than she could ever afford. He smiled knowingly at her mixed awe and consternation, saying, "aye lass, it can be yours and not for as much as you fear." He whispered the sum he wanted and she frowned, so little? He grinned, "I've just come into possession of this fine specimen and am in need of money more than jewels at the moment, and of course I can't get the King's ransom I should for this little bauble hereabouts so I am willing to take what I can get. What do you say?"

"Where did it come from?" asked she.

Said he with a wink, "a poor dame misplaced it the other day, but fear not, she has plenty of others. Her misfortune is our gain and she'll never know it! What do you say?"

Bess's frown deepened, "away with you sir, you and your pilfered items! Away before I call the watch!" He smiled greasily at her, gave her another scandalous wink, and hied him on down the road as fast as he could trot. She shook her head in disgust and returned to the house.

Spring came and the dragon with it. Most people expect an influx of birds and warm weather at this season, but so too did they receive an unexpected reptilian menace. Bess decided then and there never to be practical again, for it seemed the fairy tales were true. The monster stood on the village green with smoke curling from his nostrils and a hungry gleam in his eyes. He bellowed that all and sundry must present themselves before him this day or the whole village would soon be a smoking ruin. The terrified villagers and local farmers gathered as ordered and he glanced among them like a wolf eyeing a flock of chickens. "Is this all of you?" hissed the beast. The terrified villagers quivered their assent. "Very good," snarled the creature, "I will tell you this but once so listen closely. I need a volunteer else the entire village will feel my wrath. A volunteer for what, you ask?" He laughed vilely, "that you will not know until afterwards, if you are capable of knowing anything at all at that point." He laughed for another full minute and seemed to relish the horror and disgust emanating from the trembling host before him. "Well?" growled he, "Who shall it be?"

Immediately the terrified peasants began discussing the matter amongst themselves, each suggesting to another that they were the ideal victim, but no one seemed to believe it and quite vocally disagreed. Among the weeping, yelling, pushing, trembling throng, a firm, quiet voice was heard. "Silence!" bellowed the beast, "Quit your mewling wench and speak for all to hear!"

Bess stood forth from the cringing, silent mass and said, "take me then sir, spare these poor folk."

The dragon cocked his head and stared at her with one predatory eye, "are you certain madam?" She nodded firmly and the creature snatched her up without another word and was immediately a-wing. Bess gasped in terror as much as in exhilaration, for flight was always something she had wished to experience. He bore her deep into the heart of the mountains without a word, but finally set her down on a rocky precipice overlooking a grim, stony valley far below. He taunted her, "are you even now sure of yourself madam?" She nodded grimly and glanced into the chasm below, he mocked, "wondering if it would not be better to throw yourself over the cliff? Do it and your village will suffer!" She shuddered but moved away from the edge, but she stared with vehemence at her captor, daring him to do his worst.

He actually chuckled, it sounded neither harsh nor mocking, but rather warm and amused, "a feisty creature to the last!" Said he quite seriously, "here then lady is your doom: you must marry me." She gaped at the creature in astonishment and he chuckled again, before saying, "perhaps it shall be a worse torment than any death you imagined at my claws, but so it is."

She sighed heavily and then studied the creature before her with a slight frown on her face. The creature remained silent and allowed her to content herself with her investigation. Said she quietly, "can such a thing truly be? Can a human and a dragon truly wed?"

He laughed heartily, "what? No tale in that book of yours regarding such a concept?"

Her frown deepened, "What?! How?" Then a thoughtful smile brightened her face, "What if I say yes?"

He suddenly took her up in his claws and winged swiftly away from those grim heights, she shrieked in surprise but enjoyed the ride after her initial shock. They landed in a quiet meadow and the girl was flung indecorously to the ground. She stood and turned to scold the creature for his ill treatment of her, only to find him writhing insensibly in agony and shrinking by the moment. She gasped and rushed to his side. By the time she reached him, he was a beast no longer but rather a young man with an exultant smile on his face. He grinned at her joyously and her mouth twitched in mirth.

He stood, stretched, and began working his arms and legs, as if he had spent a fortnight in a cramped position. As he worked life back into his limbs, he regaled Bess with his tale, said he, "I do hope you mean to keep your promise darling, or I am doomed to again wear scales! But you are such a kind, patient, forgiving, honest, wise, and bold creature that I know you shall never rescind on your word. You do not know me, but I have had the joy of learning more of you than you perhaps know of yourself. You have suffered through several strange encounters over the past year and I was each of your visitors. I was quite overjoyed to find a woman of such heart when I came knocking at your door, beggar that I was, and heartily amused to find her a lover of old stories too, for I had found myself in the midst of one. Fear not, I am in truth a Prince, as such tales require, and hopefully of better character than most of my faux personas. I was cursed by my stepmother, certainly another prerequisite for such a tale, and they never bother hexing those of a troublous or wretched nature, so that again I hope is in my favor! Please forgive the sudden departure, but I knew the spell broken by your words and had I hesitated, we might be stuck on that pinnacle of rock indefinitely!"

She smiled fully upon him and her eyes danced merrily, as she asked, "what was this strange curse and what is to come of she who laid it upon you? Please tell me this woman is not to be my mother-in-law!"

Laughed the Prince, for very joy, "nay lass, so great and terrible was the spell she laid upon me that should it ever be lifted, the recoil alone might kill her or at least break her power. If she lives, she shall now be no more dreadful or terrible than any such creature might be, though I hear mothers-in-law as a species tend to be quite awful indeed, but she must face my father's justice and will trouble the world no longer. As to the spell, it was quite a dreadful curse, requiring me to go about as a dragon most of the time and the only way to break it was to gain the willing hand of the most virtuous and wise lady in all the Kingdom. I could appear at times as a mortal man, but never as myself and always as either a wretched beggar or the most insolent and dastardly creature imaginable, neither guise prone to attract a woman of your intelligence and virtue. But alas, the witch forgot that such a true heart might sacrifice itself for the sake of others, but I hope your sacrifice on behalf of all your folk will no longer be seen as such?"

Her smile was answer enough. Soon enough, the merry young pair was wed and the whole Kingdom celebrated, save the unfortunate witch, who was so astonished at the failure of her greatest spell that she fainted dead away and never wakened.

Happy, smiling, pixie thing,

Laughing up at me.

If Joy wore petals,

She would garb herself as thee.

~Wild Pansy~

Many waters cannot quench love,

Neither can floods drown it,

For love is strong as death.

~Song of Songs~

The Unicorn Hunt

Mirabella was a maiden fair to look upon and that was enough, at least as far as His Lordship the Duke of Firth was concerned; he needed a lovely maiden and she would suffice. "A Unicorn Hunt?" said she in some surprise but not uneagerly, "and just what does one do with a Unicorn once one has caught it?"

The Duke shrugged, "that is not your concern, nor are such things spoken of to young ladies. Will you assist me?"

She pursed her lips in annoyance when he refused to discuss the matter further, but his offer intrigued her and she could not gainsay him, so readily agreed to assist him in his scheme. A more tenderhearted lady would have balked in concern, wondering what was to be the fate of the poor beast, but Mirabella saw only a chance to impress a Duke, and an unmarried Duke at that. So the next morning, she donned her most beautiful gown, mounted the waiting palfrey, and accompanied the various musicians, singers, and gaily clad courtiers as they set out to find a Unicorn. It was an honored tradition to ride forth with colorful banners and festive music, in hopes of luring one of the mystic creatures within sight of mortal men and in legend at least, he might even lay his head in the lap of a lovely maiden, thus Mirabella's part in the whole affair.

They rode out eagerly at first, but after an hour or two, as the day waxed warm and the participants began to grow bored and weary, the procession began to lag and the music to sputter. The Duke rode up and down amidst the throng, ordering and threatening the revelers to resume their gaiety or else, which of course increased their pretended exuberance but did nothing to aid their joy. But whether it was pity for the berated performers or that the creatures were just plain foolish, at last the beast emerged from some hidden retreat deep in the woods and showed himself to the weary throng.

A brightly clad servant went riding off with all haste in the direction of the castle while the lady dismounted and sat upon the verdant grass of spring, while the musicians and banner bearers drew back in a semicircle, still continuing in their assumed joy. The creature stood for some time studying the procession and then to everyone's surprise, most especially Mirabella's, he stepped out of the wood and approached the maiden upon the sward. He stopped a few feet from her and she felt herself studied, as a bird might eye a worm, but he tamely laid his head upon her lap and she felt a very strange sensation wash over her: a true joy beyond the comprehension of mortal man, which the company had been trying their best to mimic but could do so only superficially.

He looked up at her then, with eyes deeper than the fathomless depths of the sea, and said quietly, "alas for you maid, for you have betrayed me; there is no curse more dreadful than living with a faithless heart. Remember me when life becomes too bitter to bear."

Then the sound of the hunting horn and the baying of hounds filled the air. The musicians ceased and drew away, even as men with spears and bows advanced, with the Duke at their head. The Unicorn stood and eyed them sadly; the girl ducked her head and ran. They made short work of the creature and triumphantly bore him back to the city where the commonfolk waited in dread, having been ordered to await their lord's coming. They cheered dully, when the company entered the city and the Duke scowled darkly, causing the feigned excitement to increase in volume, if not in earnestness. The maiden waited in the courtyard for their victorious return and hesitantly approached the slain creature, flinching back in horror as the packhorse started and spattered silver blood upon her face and hands. The Duke laughed harshly at her disgust and ordered preparations begun for the celebratory feast.

He turned to the damsel as he dismounted and offered her his arm. She took it with a grim, triumphant look and allowed him to escort her into the castle. It was a grand celebration, if a bit grim, as many of the celebrants were not in the least proud of that which they commemorated, but the lady sat beside the Duke and thought at last, her dreams had come true. She looked now and again at the slaughtered beast, where it lay in its grisly glory on a dais in the middle of the room for all to see, and wondered at his parting words, but no, what wisdom could be found in a mere beast? She had her lord and would be content. But she was far from content, for that night little sleep did she find and in the morning, a horrible discovery did she make. The servants had wiped the silver blood from her hands and face almost immediately, but anywhere the shining fluid had touched, was now white and leprous. She took one look in the mirror and fell to her knees, weeping. Her maidens, hearing this dreadful sound of anguish hastened to their lady but drew back in horror, upon seeing her so afflicted. She stared up at them in utter misery and snarled, "will you shrink from me even so? Away, away with you all!" They fled from her presence in terror.

It was not only the lady, but even the Duke and some of the servants and huntsmen were thus afflicted, for anyone the blood had touched was affected. Strangely, none of the horses or hounds were touched by the curse, but only those that willingly had some part in the creature's slaughter. The Duke's right hand was affected, as he had cut the creature's throat himself, he was far from pleased and even less so when a weeping and panicked Mirabella intruded upon his brooding late in the morning. Roared he at the distraught girl, "leave me in peace wench! What can I do? Ruined your lovely face has it? Well, you need not ever show yourself in my presence again! Be gone!"

And so she fled, weeping all the more, as she had sent her maids flying only an hour previous. The creature's final words rang in her ears, not tauntingly as she first assumed, but rather a puzzle, a glimmer of hope on the brink of despair. Remember him? She shook her head in consternation, but hastened to where she had last seen the carcass, but the banquet hall was empty and the creature gone. She demanded of the nearest servant, "where is the beast?

The boy shook his head, his eyes full of pity for the afflicted maid, and said, "the master gave orders that it should be taken outside the city and hung well up in a tree that it would be ready for whatever he meant next to do with it."

She actually thanked the lad as she hastened out of the castle, in search of the beast or whatever remained of it. She felt herself drawn in a certain direction and did not resist this strange impulse, even when it took her two days of scrambling through a rocky wilderness of stunted trees and straggling weeds with no food or water to be found. Finally she heard the sound of a mighty water and a great lawn of new grass and bright flowers greeted her as she crested the final hill. There she saw him, the Unicorn, alive and whole, with eyes as bright and keen as the day she had betrayed him. "You have come," said he. She nodded, her eyes glowing with a strange joy, but then she dropped her head, the shame and the tears began anew. "Peace child," said he, "you need not mourn over what has been, at least if you have come seeking pardon rather than merely a cure, for a healed body with a stricken soul is far worse than any bodily ailment." She knelt beside him, with eager eyes, and found herself whole in body and heart. She glanced about her, eager to thank him, but he was gone.

She stood, stared about herself, in even more despair than when she had first discovered the leprosy, but a gentle breeze stirred amongst the flowers and seemed to whisper, "peace child." She smiled, but with only a hint of sorrow, and laid herself upon the grass and long was her sleep. When she wakened, the sun was rising over a far hill and she felt fully refreshed and renewed. Knowing she could never go back to the wretched Duke, she set forth, determined to see what lay between those distant hills and the sun's rising, comforted as she went by a still, small voice that bespoke all peace and joy.

With many a curve my banks I fret

By many a field and fallow,

And many a fairy foreland set

With willow-weed and mallow.

I chatter, chatter as I flow

To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go,

But I go on forever.

~Lord Alfred Tennyson, 'Song of the Brook'~

Blood and Water

With a crash and a snort, the great stag broke cover and went bounding off towards the heart of the forest; the hounds were at his heels and added their own cacophony to the noise of the morning. Prince Garret had no need to urge his horse onwards as the beast too was caught up in the thrill of the chase. A pair of servants followed after their young master, ready to aid him however they could. The young prince was alone this morning except for the servants; his brother and various friends had all declined to accompany him on this morning's foray. The disappointed young man had set out in an ill humor, but the beauty of the morning and an almost immediate discovery of their quarry quickly dispelled his frustration, so that he completely forgot himself in sheer exhilaration, but the stag was no unwary yearling. He had not attained his size and age by simple luck; he knew the lost paths of the wood and gave the hounds the challenge of their lives. The dogs were good but the stag was better, after several hours of slogging through fen and briar, the stymied creatures gave up the chase with whines of frustration and confusion. Garret drew up his weary horse and dismounted, annoyed at having lost their quarry but still exultant from the thrill of the chase. The servants likewise quitted their saddles, but instead of tending to the dogs and horses as their young master was intent in doing, they whispered quietly together for a moment.

The Prince was busy with his favorite dog when his world suddenly collapsed into nothing but darkness and pain, followed by an all consuming cold and wetness before he knew nothing more. The hounds whined in confusion and the horses snorted at the scent of blood, but no one intervened as the two servants murdered their one time master. The Prince's younger brother had paid them well to kill the heir to the throne and then vanish indefinitely from the Kingdom. So it was that they stuck a knife in his ribs while he was preoccupied and then flung him into a nearby pond, watching as the boy's body sank from sight and waited a few minutes to make sure it did not rise again. When they were certain the boy was either dead of his wounds or had drowned, they gathered up the horses and dogs and made good their voluntary exile. If this had not been a fairy tale, it would have been the end of the story, but thankfully our young Prince lives in a world where myth goes about under mortal sun and star. And thankfully he had fallen into a pond, wherein at that very moment dwelt a water sprite. While the villains watched their victim sink from view, the unseen denizen of the pond took hold of the young man's hand and drew him deeper still.

While she touched him, he would not drown but the grievous wound in his side was another matter entirely. The healing arts were not unknown to her people but to aid a mortal man brought with it severe and sometimes dire consequences. She could simply let go of his hand and let him sink, drown, die, that would be the easiest choice but it could not be hers. But what could she do? Could she pay the price? She looked at him then, intently, pityingly, and she knew she could and she must.

Garret awoke on the bank of the small pool, completely soaked, frozen to the bone, and utterly exhausted, but alive. He thought it had all been some terrible dream, but there was a puddle of fresh blood on the trampled grass and no sign of the hunting party remained. Slowly and painstakingly, he sat up and inspected himself and his surroundings. He stared in amazement to see a young maiden sitting a few feet from him, smiling as if she knew some secret the world could never know. Said she without preamble, "the choice is before you, child of men. I have saved your life, but that act will cost us both dearly. You can become my husband and one of my people, you can reject my gift and go the way of all flesh, or I must become a mortal and dwell forever away from my own kind." He thought the day could get no stranger but he was quite mistaken.

Said he after several minutes of silent bewilderment, "who or what are you lady?"

She smiled coyly at him and said, "a water sprite is what your uncreative tales label my folk, but in our own tongue we are the Undine."

Asked he in astonishment, "and why is such a burden placed upon you for aiding me?"

She shook her head, "the healing of a minor wound or illness might be overlooked, but to salvage a soul from death comes only at a great price. Thus is some great sacrifice required on both our parts. I must lose my immortality or gain a husband of which I know little. You must either leave your own people and life to take a wife of an unknown people or live in knowing what your life has cost another."

The boy smiled in spite of himself, "or I might die and absolve you of all responsibility?"

She smiled at his jest and said, "yes, I did mention that as an option but I thought you too sensible a creature to choose that end."

"What if I were a vile fiend and let you sacrifice everything on my behalf rather than do what any honorable man knows he must?" said he, intrigued by this lovely, playful maiden.

She laughed like water splashing in a fountain, "ah, sir! But would it not be far worse to be wed to such a terrible man for all of Time rather than to endure a few short years of mortality? But it seems you have made your choice."

He nodded, "there can be but one choice lady, but am I so completely cut off from my own people hereafter? For there is yet one thing I must do. My attackers did not do this merely to steal my horse and hounds, rather some fell villain put them up to it to gain the crown for himself."

She smiled at him with laughing eyes, "you will belong to the Undine hereafter, but you may interact with men as your heart desires. You cannot be a King among men but you can certainly aid in bringing your enemy to justice and protecting your Kingdom from such a threat." He rose on unsteady feet and cordially offered her his arm, yet found himself leaning on her for support rather than simply escorting her as a man ought to accompany a maid. Said she, "we must wed immediately, how is it done among your people?"

He stared at her, "I thought this must be done according to your traditions?"

She shook her head and smiled demurely, "nay, it is the husband's traditions that must be followed, but hereafter our traditions shall be yours, but first we must commence with our union." He glanced about him, trying to remember where he was and if there might be someone nearby that might avail them in their plight. He thought for a moment and finally remembered an old hermit that dwelt in this remote part of the forest; he might not be able to solemnize a marriage but he could at least give the boy dry clothes or possibly a horse.

A half hour of walking brought them to the rather rundown cottage and Garret's hopes of horses died aborning, but perhaps this old recluse had the authority that they required. He knocked upon the door but there was no answer. Garret slumped down on a sagging bench beside the door to wait, wondering if he would die of pneumonia before the old man returned, but he came almost immediately out of the woods with a bundle of firewood on his back. He stopped for a moment to study his company and then hurried forward, offering apologies and welcome. He soon had a fire going, from which the maid drew back somewhat timidly, and had laid a simple but hearty meal on the table and given the boy a dry set of clothes.

Once the lad seemed recovered somewhat from the trials of the day, the man broached the subject upon which none of them had yet spoken, "so what brings such noble younglings out this far? Trying to elope are you?"

The pair exchanged an almost guilty look of surprise at the man's insight, but Garret said quietly, "can you conduct a legal wedding, my good man?"

The man's smile was answer enough, but it vanished under a look of concern as he said, "do you know what you are entangling yourself in lad?" The boy looked hopefully at his bride and then questioningly at the man, who continued, "have you run away because your parents disapprove of the union or are you in some trouble that you think a hasty marriage might patch up?"

Said the girl quite abashedly, "sir, we are in a rather odd predicament but I would not call it a hasty marriage but rather a necessity. As to our parents, they can have no say over this union."

The man said sternly, "I will not be a party to something that will only end in disaster!"

The boy shook his head, "nay sir, we know very well what we are about to undertake. Marriage is a serious business and this particular union even more so."

The man looked more closely at the boy, surprised by the earnestness and sincerity in his voice. Then he studied the girl and a knowing look entered his eyes, as he said to the lad, "you know then that your bride is no mortal maid?"

The boy said quietly, "I am well aware of that sir and it is what must be done in our strange situation."

He looked to the maiden, "and you lady? Would you unite yourself irrevocably to a mere man?"

She nodded, "I have already made my choice in the matter and must abide by his decision." He shook his head in wonder but soon enough did as they asked of him.

No sooner had the boy avowed himself as the girl's husband, than he collapsed in agony and flopped like a landed fish into the little brook beside which the girl had insisted the ceremony take place, vanishing suddenly from sight. The men had thought she wanted to be married there in a fit of whimsy or romance, as it was a very pretty spot, but she had a much more practical reason in mind. In thus uniting himself with a water sprite, he had yet to abide by the second part of his promise, and that was to become such himself, which of course required water. They both stared at the little beck in silence for a moment, the girl in anticipation and the man in wonder.

Suddenly the boy's head appeared above the water and he smiled joyously at his bride. Then he turned to look at the old hermit and said, "my gratitude is ever yours sir, if ever we can be of service, simply come to this little stream and ask us to come." He looked to the lady once more, smiled deeply as she leapt in beside him, and they vanished like water poured from a cup into a bucket. The man had seen much in his wandering days but this still managed to make him scratch his head in wonder.

Garret and his lady surfaced in a broad, shallow lake swathed in mist and bathed in the light of a full moon; the lake was nearly covered with swans, who floated peacefully along, disturbing the otherwise perfect reflection of the silent moon overhead. "I do not like this," said Erinea as she glanced around at the idyllic scene.

"Nor I," said Garret, who did not see anything to mar the wonder of the sight but rather felt that something was gravely amiss.

"There is fell magic at work here," said she.

Garret nodded his agreement as they both vanished beneath the surface and swam towards the heart of the disquiet feeling. They surfaced quietly, hidden in the reeds that crowded the side of the lake. What appeared to be a beautiful maiden stood on the bridge that spanned a deep-channeled river just before it joined with the lake; the bridge was the only way to cross the river without swimming the lake or risking the fast and dangerous current of the river. The maid stood upon the bridge, apparently waiting for someone or something. Soon, the sound of hooves on the hard packed road was heard as a gallant knight approached the bridge, intending to cross but struck with wonder upon sighting the maid. She pointed to a large white water lily that seemed to glow in the moonlight and sighed, "ah good knight, would you fetch for me that fair flower?"

The Knight, bound by some strange chivalric oath to obey at once any command of any lady in distress, immediately halted his horse, dismounted, and began the treacherous journey towards the much coveted flower, but he soon found himself in distress, for cumbered as he was by the weight of armor and weapons, he soon began to sink in the lake's muddy bottom and could neither move forward nor back.

The maiden's scornful laughter broke the spell, revealing a hideous hag on a crumbling bridge and the Knight buried up to his chest in a stagnant slough. Mocked she to her would be benefactor, "what say you now, foolish Knight? Shall I leave you here to die of thirst or will you beg my aid?"

Said he indignantly, "madam, I set out to aid you with a true heart, would you punish me even so?"

She laughed horribly, "with a true heart I would, even so." Her eyes turned towards the lake, whereon floated near a hundred swans, and said, "you can join your brothers on the lake, awaiting one, if he ever comes, who would break the enchantment, else you can rot where you stand."

Said he in despair, "what will break the spell, witch?"

She hissed in amusement, "only the blood of a willing man, shed upon the waters, will free the poor wretches and break my own power in turn, but what is that to you? You are trapped and only by my assistance can you be freed! Even if you were willing to shed your own precious blood, you cannot reach the lake to free your fellows. You can join them or die miserably as you are. Well?"

He sighed heavily, "I would willingly pay the price, hag, yet if it cannot be, this is no proper end for a Knight. Free me that I might be enslaved even so."

A slow smile touched her lips as she said, "I thought as much. Go then fool, join your fowl friends." As she laughed, a light consumed the stricken Knight and upon its fading, a swan blinked foolishly in the moonlight, took one look at the hag, whistled in fear, and joined his fellows on the lake. She spoke in a fell tongue and the former vision returned of ancient bridge, fair maiden, and a treacherous river.

Garret looked to his lady, "can we do nothing?"

She shook her head, "the price is not ours to pay. It must be the blood of a mortal man..." She trailed off and stared at him with pleading eyes, "you wish to recant your decision?"

He took her hands and said quietly, "these few days have been the most wonderful of my life. I regret nothing we have had together, but I cannot turn my back and leave these poor souls to remain in the witch's thrall if there is something I can do to thwart it. Can it be done?"

She dropped her gaze for a moment and then looked out over the swans in the mist and moonlight, before looking again into his eyes, "I have bidden you never kiss me and never given you the reason." A slight, sad smile touched her lips as she said tremulously, "kiss me fully, willingly and you shall become a man once more, wound and all and so shall the price be met."

He took her chin in his hand and lifted her eyes again to his, "I cannot do it without your consent, my darling for you are the one that must live with my decision."

She tried to drop her gaze as tears came to her eyes, but she whispered, "how can I say no and live with you in your shame or in knowing I cherished my own happiness over the lives of these accursed creatures? Whether I say yes or not, our former joy has died this night even so. Let my remembrance be bittersweet rather than live life together and have it poisoned by regret. You must do it, my love." The kiss that followed might have made many a fairy tale princess jealous.

As they separated, he gasped and clutched at his chest as he lurched forward and floated on the water. As the wound bled anew, the red fluid mingled with the clear water and a great chorus went up from the afflicted birds. They took to the air, whistling in delight and glowing slightly silver as each felt impelled to wing its way home, and upon arrival, they found themselves human once more. The vision of bridge and maiden vanished as the hag let loose a strangled shriek. Instead, there remained a hideous frog that croaked horribly in the stagnant marsh that bordered that side of the lake.

The hag had made a bargain when given power over the marsh and the swans and so had she agreed that if the curse were ever broken, such would be her fate. Now she must wait in turn some poor hero who might be willing to kiss such a frog, though no princess would he find, but perhaps a humbled witch instead. She had seen the Undine, but had paid them little heed, after all it was not as if they could break her spell nor were they likely to if they could, as that race usually had little sympathy for mortal plight. The witch had little feared her spell ever being broken, for the only easy access to the water was via her bridge and she could entrap any likely hero ere he could do something regrettable, as she had with her latest victim. But alas, she was terribly wrong. Thus was joy restored to many while the witch and Erinea were bereft of it.

The poor water maiden watched in wonder as the birds took to the air and the hag was reduced to amphibious obscurity, but suddenly realized her own dreadful loss and reached out desperately to take hold of all that remained of her happiness. She caught Garret's foot and drew his unmoving form into her arms, but the cold, lifeless form did not return her embrace. She would have committed his mortal remains forever to the bottom of that quiet lake but a sudden, beckoning voice carried on the wind and she knew she could not linger. She dove beneath the surface, still clutching her beloved, and vanished from the lake, only to surface again in the little brook beside which they had vowed eternal devotion to one another.

The hermit was in desperate need of the pair and had done as Garret had once advised him. Erinea quickly discovered his crisis and her heart trembled within her, for her irate father stood over the uneasy man. Erinea quit the brook and laid her dead upon the bank, hastening to the poor man's side, her eyes blazing angrily as she looked upon her father. The elder Undine snarled, "Erinea! What have you done? I was going to teach this wretch a lesson for his temerity in involving himself in things above his concern, but he pleaded ignorance and begged that I allow you and your supposed husband to be summoned in his defense. So what have you to say on the matter?"

She stared stonily at her father and said coldly, "do not harm this poor man, for he did nothing to deserve punishment or chagrin but acted with all honor and compassion. If someone must bear the brunt of your wrath, let it be me alone. As for my 'so called husband,' he lies dead by the brook, having offered willingly his life to free a hundred souls from enchantment."

Her father seemed to relax at her words, for no permanent harm had been done, but she had not finished, "I cannot endure endless life without my beloved, instead, I shall follow him into mortality and eventually into death. One mortal lifetime shall be enough for me to endure my grief and then I shall see what lingers beyond the confines of this world."

Her father stared at her, "this is madness! Worse even than saving a mortal's life and taking him as husband! Do not do this! Have you no compassion?"

She smiled sadly, "yes, perhaps too much, at least to your thinking. I shall spend it on some needful, mortal cause and thus spend my days in content. Farewell father, I am sorry to cause you grief if such is the case but rather I think mortification is more the cause of your disquiet. If it gives you comfort, forget that you ever had such a child."

She turned and left the astonished pair and knelt beside Garret. The fear in the hermit's eyes had been replaced by a twinkle of anticipation while her father was frozen in horror. She kissed the cold, inert lips and immediately warmth and life flooded back into what she thought had been a corpse. The old hermit let out a joyous whoop while her father went to his knees in amazement. The hermit had seen the boy's chest fluttering slowly as the dying boy fought for every breath, but the others had missed it during their intense confrontation.

Garret stared up into the eyes of his beloved and smiled, "what happens if I kiss you again?"

Her face was aglow with delight, as she murmured, "a pity we will never know." They embraced, as two people might who have just survived some catastrophic adventure together, and then gained their feet. Erinea whispered in joy, "I thought you were dead!"

Garret nodded, "as did I, but apparently only blood, not a man's life, was required of him." He smiled, "and you have again restored me to life!" Only then did he notice that they were not alone, and that he liked very little the look upon the stranger's face.

Erinea said weakly, "Garret, this is my father." Garret awkwardly made the proper courtesies, at least as they were practiced among men, but the elder Undine just stared stonily at him.

Finally he growled, "it seems my daughter has a fondness for you, mortal that you are." He took a resigned breath and said, "but I suppose she must be allowed to do as she pleases, as is every other adult member of our race, but do not suppose any of us will ever consider you a true Undine. Your schemes to become immortal will avail you nothing! We will never accept you among us, yet you shall outlive all you once loved among mortal men. It would be far wiser for you to live out your appointed days and leave us to ourselves, but you will both do as it pleases you." He dove into the brook and vanished from sight.

The hermit stared after him in wonder and then turned to the pair with a knowing twinkle in his eyes, "I knew there was something uncanny about you lady; I had my suspicions but knew nothing for certain. Whatever he said about not being welcomed anywhere, know that you are both always welcome here, such as it is." They bowed courteously to him and then exchanged a joyous smile, knowing they had at least one friend in the wide world.

Garret sighed heavily as he again faced his beloved, "we have laid your family scandals to rest, now I must face my own."

She smiled eagerly and he looked at her askance, "you look forward to what is to come?" She laughed like a tinkling brook, "I dreaded my father's reaction above all things, but that is over and you are still at my side, what more have I to fear or dread? You forget my love, that your villainous relations can do little to thwart you, how ever you choose to act."

His own smile returned and an eager light burned in his eyes, "I forget that I am a helpless boy no longer and any adventure must be pleasant with such a companion! Let us away, ere my brother causes more mischief." They bowed to the flummoxed hermit and vanished once more into the ever-laughing brook. He shook his head in bewildered amusement, wondering what quest the strange pair was off to this time; he hoped they would return and tell him all the tale.

They surfaced in a small pond just within the borders of the forest, not far from the great castle that had once been Garret's home. Said he, wistfully gazing at the distant structure, "to think it is my home no longer." He felt a comforting hand upon his shoulder and he turned to gaze into the eyes that meant more to him than beloved memory. She returned his smile, as he finished, "but now my home is gladly wherever you are." He frowned, "a pity we must return afoot."

She laughed and turned towards the pond, barely touching the surface with one finger, and drew back well pleased as a pair of richly saddled horses lunged out of the water. He stared at the horses and then at his beloved, a slow smile growing on his lips as he realized the creatures were merely a watery enchantment rather than flesh and blood, but they would suffice. They mounted up and galloped joyously towards the castle, eager to expose the murderous ambitions of the King's youngest son.

The advent of the late Prince into the castle proper caused immediate silence as the amazed onlookers thought they looked upon a ghost, but suddenly they erupted in joy as they realized he was no phantasm but their own beloved Prince. They were even more eager to know who the bewitching lady was that accompanied his unanticipated return. The guards had been out searching for the lad for several days but had found only the blood-soaked ground and no other clue as to what had come of him or his companions. His parents and younger brother were immediately informed, with the former rushing joyously into the courtyard to greet their missing son while the latter muttered darkly under his breath but hastened after his parents to see the truth for himself. He was astonished to see his brother not only alive, but accompanied by a stunning young woman; if he ever got his hands on those treacherous servants they would rue that they had ever been born.

Garret exchanged joyous greetings with his parents and gave his brother an all too knowing look that promised more than foul words to come. An unwelcome chill of dread ran down Gyle's spine and for a moment he knew fear, but he savagely buried the sensation and began plotting how to rectify this dangerous situation. They went in to supper and great was the joy therein, for all save Gyle. After the evening meal, Garret pled exhaustion and begged to be excused, but his lady offered to keep company with the King and Queen as late as they might desire. The brothers exchanged a knowing look and retreated to a private garden. Garret had given only the vaguest explanation as to where he had been and what had come of him, but in their joy at his return, his parents had little noticed this, but it ate like a canker at Gyle's furious heart.

They withdrew together to their favorite childhood haunt and once the only door was locked behind them, they stared silently at one another but they needed no words. Gyle was unrepentant in what he had done, his ill-contained fury yet smoldered just below the surface, ready to ignite if his self-control wavered even minutely. Garret felt another pang of anguish, knowing he had lost his brother utterly and that for the sake of the Kingdom, he must face justice. If he were even a little sorry for what he had attempted there might be hope, but he was only upset because his treachery had apparently failed, not because he had tried to have his brother killed.

"You wish to try again?" said Garret sadly.

Gyle snarled tersely, "of course!"

Garret shook his head, "I would not advise it."

Gyle smiled mirthlessly, "and how do you propose to stop me?"

Garret smiled coldly, "that you will discover should you try, but it is ill-advised. You would be better served to confess what you have done and seek the King's mercy."

Gyle mocked, "of course, why did I not think of that?"

Garret said grimly, "justice will be served but I will allow you this chance to choose how."

Gyle scoffed, "your graciousness astounds me, oh most magnanimous of brothers!"

Garret said quietly, "if you will not go to the King, you may ride off on some valiant quest, never to return, else I will be forced to deal with you myself." Gyle's only reply was to laugh uncontrollably for the next three minutes. Garret said stonily, once his brother's guffaws had ceased, "I take it you refuse to act as you ought?"

Gyle wiped away a tear and said with only a trace of mirth, "of course I refuse! Take your revenge if you must!" He collapsed again into convulsing laughter and Garret was left standing in silent consternation, wondering how best to manage this grim situation.

Gyle gained control of himself once more, and as he gained his feet, a malicious smile touched his lips as vengeance sparkled in his eyes. He drew a dagger from a hidden sheath and leapt upon his insolent brother, stabbing him countless times in the back and chest, but Garret only shook his head sadly as the vicious boy struck futilely again and again. Finally, Gyle realized his attack had no effect whatsoever upon his brother and dropped the knife in dread, a look of terror filling his eyes.

"I warned you," said Garret grimly, as he grasped his brother's cold, trembling hand; they melted together into a puddle, leaving the garden silent and empty with only the moon looking on. They surfaced in that quite eventful brook that chattered ceaselessly near the old hermit's cottage. Garret left his brother gasping and quivering on the bank and dashed to the crumbling shanty, where he knocked vigorously upon the door. The hermit emerged, yawning and rubbing his eyes, not surprised at such a guest at such an hour. His eyes grew wide as he glimpsed a figure by the creek, just starting to sit up and glance around in terror.

Said the hermit, "what can I do for you lad?"

Garret shook his head, "I need an objective judge in a case of attempted fratricide." They returned to the trembling figure and Garret told the full tale to the astonished Sage while Gyle glowered in silence.

Finally the hermit asked of the terrified boy, "is it true?"

Snarled he, "of course, fool! Now finish it!"

The Sage shook his head, "what is to be done with him?"

Garret said grimly, "I had hoped you would have some idea as to a proper fate."

"Enough!" snarled the irate boy, "Neither of you cowards have the nerve! Neither will I let you have the satisfaction!" With that, he dove head first into the shallow brook, snapping his neck, and ending all dispute in the matter of what was to be done. Garret exchanged a startled look with the hermit, thanked him for his time, and once more took hold of his brother but this time bore him home. The next morning, the youngest Prince was found near the woods with his neck broken and his horse running loose nearby, apparently he had fallen while riding, which while grievous to his parents, was far less appalling than the idea that their son was a murderous traitor.

After the sorrow had grown less acute, Garret said quietly to the King, "my lady and I wish to see something of the world. We will return now and then as dutiful children ought, but perhaps it would be best if the throne go to my sister, who has been visiting my aunt these past months."

The King stared at his son in amazement, but something told him argument on this point was futile; he drew his son into a great hug and wished him well upon his adventures. Garret said his farewells to his mother, took his lady's hand, and they rode out of view before vanishing from that place for a very long time, but as he had promised, so did they return on occasion and upon his father's death, the throne passed to his sister and her children after her. After the decease of his sister many years later, no longer did they visit his old home thereafter, for the world was full of wonders yet that they had not seen. The old hermit remained their dearest friend and frequently were they found haunting the familiar brook and humble cottage until the man ceased to tread mortal paths. After, no legend tells what came of Garret and his lady, but it can be assumed they lived, 'happily ever after,' despite the grim pronouncements of that lady's father.

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crost the bar.

~Lord Alfred Tennyson, 'Crossing the Bar'~

Wisp

The light danced tantalizingly in the distance and like one enthralled, Alic followed dazedly after. The golden blue of twilight deepened into the diamond spattered black of full night and ever the laughing, dancing azure light drew him on, determined to find the cause of its joy. The squelching protest of the mud and its icy fingers creeping into his boots suddenly broke the spell, as Alic awoke to find himself knee deep in a hopeless mire and still sinking. The more he struggled, the faster his descent; his mind panicked but he forced his body to stillness, hoping to postpone the inevitable long enough for some miracle to happen. The light, like some pixie's laugh, flitted back to where its pursuer struggled in the fen, hovering four paces from the trapped boy, its light casting the bog into eerie patterns of stark light and deep shadow. The boy's plight seemed of little concern to the bobbing luminescence, and if anything, its weaving and darting seemed to intensify in eagerness rather than alarm. It hovered there in anticipation, like some carrion bird waiting to descend upon his carcass. He smiled wryly, at least the bog would consume him utterly, leaving no bones for such scavengers to pick.

Time passed in excruciating slowness as the mire swallowed its victim alive. Nothing changed but how deep Alic lay in the mud, now up to his chest and impatient for his inevitable end, if only to end the suspense and despair that now encompassed him. He scoffed at the quivering light, "is this what you intended? What gain can it be to you? Can you do nothing but dance in anticipation at such an end?"

A voice answered, but not one the boy expected, this was a scratchy, feminine sound, and not anything like what he had anticipated from such an ethereal source, but then it was not the light that had spoken, said she, "the wisp can do nothing you fool! But it can gain much by luring you to your death, at least if you will let it. Death need not be all your future."

The boy, now up to his neck, turned his head as much as the mire would allow and gasped in astonishment to see the source of the voice. A woman older than time itself, or so it seemed, with lank coarse hair hanging in sheets like so many lichens and more wrinkles than face, stood beside him with a look of utter delight and contempt on her face, as if she enjoyed the spectacle before her. Said he, "what do you mean?"

She laughed cruelly, "it is simple. Accept my offer and be spared your imminent demise, else you can vanish from living memory and allow this silly wisp to reap its reward." The light seemed to quiver in agitation as she spoke, uneasy about the offer she was about to make, which only increased Alic's interest. She continued, "you must simply agree to cede your life, your soul, your being to me. You will lose it soon enough anyway, so what have you to lose?" The wisp became frenetic as she spoke, as if urging the boy not to listen to the witch, but whether in terror at what the boy's fate might be should he accept or in fear of losing whatever it gained via his death, Alic did not know.

Now up to his chin, Alic gasped out in terror, "what does this deal avail me?"

She cackled harshly, "you have little time if you wish to thwart fate, which is your sole reward. Are we agreed?"

The light was turning spirals of agony, but with no time remaining, Alic gurgled out, the mud now in his mouth, "anything witch, let your deal be struck!"

Her laugh was terrifying in its delight, even as he spoke the words, he felt his physical form grow cold as death and felt it sucked forever beneath the mire, yet whatever was himself, did not follow his physical shell into eternal night. Instead he hovered, another will-o-the-wisp, a hand's-breadth above the fen. The new wisp shuddered in horror as the crone's laugh continued to echo through the miry hollow. The light had no eyes per say, but it could see quite well in the whelming gloom, noticing vaguely that the fell woman appeared slightly younger, or at least less worn.

She turned dancing eyes that held no mirth upon the terrified wisp, said she in grim amusement, "congratulations wretch! You have traded an honest death for slavery in perpetuity; you have become a nonentity, a thing in the world but not of it; neither living nor dead. Never at rest, always alone! Your youth and vitality have I sapped to extend my own life and now you can do naught but my will, slave that you are. A pity you can do nothing but dance and flit about, which limits your usefulness quite dreadfully. How can you be free of this wretched state? You have cheated death and only thereby may you be freed: either submit willingly to your own or lure some fool to his and hope I do not find him first, as was the case with you." She laughed dreadfully and said with scorn, "flit off until I call for you. Shoo!" The two lights fled in terror from her presence but her hateful laughter pursued them relentlessly into the darkness.

They quivered in terror for a few moments after they had stayed their flight in some hidden dell of the boggy wood and one faced the other, whether enemies or fellow victims, their dread of the witch and their grim fate forced them into uneasy companionship. They could not speak in words but one could somehow feel the meaning of the other. The wisp that was Alic turned on its fellow with a wrath built of horror, despair, fear, and dread. The poor creature shuddered before his fury and asked if Alic would not now act the same to free himself from this fate? His fury suddenly abated in perplexed horror, would he? Could he do anything but? Could he face his own death or forever abide in this quivering form? The price of his freedom was death, his own or someone else's; he had already agreed to this reprehensible bargain to avoid his own. It must be another's blood, else all was lost. He turned to the other, understanding at last accomplished between them.

But another uneasy thought occurred to him, would it truly be life that was salvaged from the situation or something worse? The witch was too cunning and fond of cruelty to allow such a seemingly easy escape from her clutches, look what this wretched bargain had cost, would not deepening the evil make it worse? Alic looked to the other, which seemed never to have considered the possibility and they both shuddered. What was to be done? A small voice whispered in their hearts, but they staunchly ignored its tremulous wails and pondered the matter further, what was the harm in trying? They could always abandon the quest if the cost became too dear, perhaps there was no further treachery in the mix and they could be truly free! They knew it to be a thin facade and a lie through and through, but it was a far better matter to contemplate than the alternatives so they clung to it with all their beings. But how to accomplish it? The other light danced excitedly and Alic followed eagerly after, wondering what it intended.

Alic felt all of time and space shifting around them, as if such matters were of little consequence to beings no longer trapped within a mortal shell, yet Alic also felt a blotch or a smudge on the whole ethereal landscape about him, as if he were an intruder, an interloper, an onlooker who did not belong and had no part in the things around him. The mortal world was no longer his home but he had denied whatever it was that came after, instead determining to linger amidst the dust and shadows of what had been rather than embracing what should be yet finding no part in either. He felt a dove lost over a vast and trackless sea, with no place to alight and no sign of a resting place on all the watery horizon. He turned his contemplations from these grim thoughts and focused outward, on whatever it was his companion intended.

It was daylight, and the wisps were not even visible in the terrible light of the sun. They trembled in that dreadful glare, being now creatures of the shadows and dusk, and sought refuge from the awful light. They hovered under the eves of the stable in the courtyard of some great castle and Alic quivered in interest as his companion made his intentions known. A pair of royal brothers lived in this place, dear friends from boyhood and now upon the brink of manhood, if the pair could be provoked into a duel through jealousy either for the crown or the hand of some fair maid, then perhaps the cost of their freedom could be met. The wisps could whisper unseen into the thoughts of these young men and perhaps persuade them to act more rashly than they otherwise might. Alic took the elder while his companion ghosted after the other. At first he flinched back from the price another must pay for his own freedom, but he consoled himself in knowing he would be freeing his companion likewise and he found a grim delight in whispering incendiary half truths into the mind of the vulnerable young prince, giving actions, words, and looks meanings they did not contain. This of course was what the witch had intended from the first, delighting as she did in death, pain, and chaos; they were more truly her slaves in this than if she had directed them to do it.

As the days passed, the friendship between the brothers grew cold and animosity festered between them. The elder feared the younger was after his crown and the younger that his brother had turned a fond eye upon his beloved. The court, their family, and the servants watched in growing dread as the fires of hatred and jealousy roared to life and all knew the only outcome could be tragedy for one or both. One grim evening, without a word, both came to a cold agreement that all should be decided this night, for good or for ill. They took their swords, mounted their horses, and rode silently into the surrounding forest. Their mother, watching with tear filled eyes from an upper window, said a silent prayer that her sons might somehow be spared this doom, one at the hand of the other.

The wisps ghosted after the grim princes, anticipating their own freedom at last! For months had they whispered and suggested and this night would see the fulfillment of all their plans. 'But at what cost?' came the gentle whisper of a vagrant breeze. 'What price must another pay?' mocked the stars over head. 'Would this be true freedom or slavery of a worse sort?' echoed a brook as they passed. A cricket sang far too merrily, 'how is life to come of death?' The wisps grew uneasy as their own hearts cried out in horror at what they were about to do. But the only alternative was their own deaths. 'Yes,' rustled the leaves overhead, 'but was not death an inevitable part of life? Would they rather be as the hag, existing forever upon stolen life and joy though never truly living?'

The princes drew rein, dismounted, drew their swords, and turned to face one another, hate and rage glowing in their fierce young eyes. Wait! Screamed that once poisonous voice in each young mind, is this not your brother, once your best friend? Has it truly come to this? Lies, all lies, and nothing more! Hesitation replaced wrath, perplexity scorn. Two sets of wondering eyes each sought the other and swords were thrown down in disgust and horror at what might have been. The brothers ran to each other and poured out their broken hearts, one atop the other. Each smiled ruefully and tried to begin again. They turned away from the clearing and walked away from the relieved wisps, horrified at what they might have wrought. Then they trembled in utter terror as the hag appeared in their midst with a delighted cackle, "what a pity you lost your nerve at the last, it might have been wonderful, but alas, what is to be expected from such weak and pitiful cowards who would sell their souls to spare their lives?"

She squawked in indignation as her wisps exchanged a meaningful thought and then one after the other winked out of existence. Alic found himself again an occupant of his mortal shell, at least for the moment it took him to gasp back to life, inhale a lungful of mud, and succumb to the fate that should have befallen him months ago. The darkness seized him instantly but a bright, dancing light called him out of the shadows at last.

On Bad Poetry, An Example **:**

It seems to me,

That poetry

Must always rhyme

and be in time.

For you see,

Bad poetry,

Is something,

Of a rum thing

That anyone can do,

which is all too true.

Like this grand verse,

Could be far worse

If it went on,

Forever, anon.

But, rejoice my friend,

This is the end!

Other Books by this Author:

### The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book I and II

### The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book III

### The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book IV and V

### Once a Thief

### A Song of Lesser Days

### Thus It Began

### Legends of the Brethren: The Sampler

### Legends of the Brethren: The Complete Series

### In Shadow

### Of Tea... and Things

### The Greylands

### The Foibles

###  Over the Hills and Far Away

### Want to Know More?:

### Official Website

### Author's Blog

Excerpt from 'The Greylands: Volume VI:'

### Beyond the Morning:

The historians and astronomers and geologists will tell you that the world revolves around the sun and that the earth is round, but my dear child, they are all of them wrong. Yes, quite wrong, utterly and completely. Men once thought the world flat and that the sun revolved around the earth, and I think, perhaps men were wiser in those days. Of course, this is a fairy tale so I might be mistaken, but at least in this particular world this happened to be the case. In the beginning of things this world had been quite like all the others, but men did not like the way things were so they rebelled against Him who made the worlds and quite made a mess of things. So it was that the world literally fell to pieces, leaving it flat with little bits like islands floating to the East and a shadowy chunk lurking beneath, where nasty things lived and breathed and had their being.

Mountains ringed the whole world about, keeping the water and most of the inhabitants inside, save for one small gap where the Great Sea found an outlet and fell in a great waterfall into fathomless depths below. But the sun boiled the water every night as it passed beneath this strange world and it fell again as rain very early every morning. Thus the Sea was fresh water (and not salt as you might think) and the world never suffered drought nor a rainy day that might ruin all the picnics. So in general, it was a rather prosperous and happy world. Except of course for that minor problem of man's rebellion against his Maker. Besides for that minor glitch, it was quite a wonderful place to call home and an especially good place to have a picnic.

But what was to come of that little matter mentioned above which brought sorrow, death, illness, and violence upon a once joyous and peaceful world? Well, things certainly could not remain as they were, for the Master loved his creatures far too much to leave them in such a miserable story so He came Himself to set things aright. To think that He who made everything would leave unimaginable Glory to spend time amongst the very things He created, naughty as they were. At first, they were quite happy to listen to His stories and benefit from His miracles, but they grew tired of His preaching and jealous of His power, so they did the only reasonable thing and killed the One who invented Life.

Only you cannot kill Him, at least not forever (no matter what the skeptics tell you) and He lived again, but in dying He conquered Death and since the price of rebellion and sin is death, He just happened to pay for all the mistakes and bad deeds of His poor, sundered creatures. The only problem was, most of them were not interested in such a silly thing as redemption, thank you very much! They were quite happy with life the way it was and really could care less about such wondrous Love. They wanted to mind their own business and wanted Him to mind His, of course not realizing that their wellbeing was His business. So it was, that He went back to His place and left the world to do as it pleased, at least until that exciting day when He promised to return and stay forever and ever with his Creatures that really wanted to be with Him; the rest could spend all of eternity in a place where He would never bother them again and they could do very much as they pleased, which they would soon come to realize was not very much fun at all.

The centuries passed and men multiplied and filled the whole earth, and with more people came the obvious problems of greed, war, strife, jealousy, and rage with the strong oppressing the weak, not to mention an increase in littering and other such crimes. Certain countries were better or worse than others in matters of justice and peace, as is always true of the lands of men. In this particular time and place, it was a rather peaceful and prosperous country that was more just than many lands in the history of this world. Its neighbors too were relatively peaceful which allowed them all to dwell for a time in quiet harmony. In the specific neighborhood where this story begins, there were a number of rather rich and influential families with any number of well-bred and educated offspring, all ready to make their way in the wide world.

There were three boys who were quite good friends and had been since the dawn of time, or at least for as long as they could remember. There was nothing that could ever come between them, save perhaps those insurmountable forces of love and death, for taxes as we currently know them had not yet been invented. One of these young men was quite sick and on the verge of that dreadful enemy of mortality, or at least of childhood, yes, romantic love. He was quite sure he wanted to marry the most beautiful (and rich) girl in the neighborhood, and while his friends were quite happy for his good fortune, they really did not wish to see their little trio broken up. While our love-stricken Kyan was off romancing his ladylove, our two remaining heroes, Bayard and Griffin, fell in with an old man who told the most wonderful stories.

He told them of things long ago and things yet to come, of a Great King who had left his Eternal Throne to dwell among mortal men. Of the Great Enemy who had left the service of this King long before the worlds were made, and his intent to corrupt or destroy all that his former Master had wrought, including mankind. They were intrigued by these tales, especially when told that even Today, men must decide on whose side they would live and fight, for it was a war older than Time and none could stand aside or plead ignorance. They must either stand with the King or fall with the Enemy. Quite excited by this prospect, the youths dashed back to find the missing member of their little company who was just bidding farewell to his darling, both with stars in their eyes.

"I must soon propose," said he, as if in a dream.

"Yes, yes," said Bayard impatiently, "all in good time, but come, there is something you must hear!"

Smiling dreamily, Kyan did not resist his friends as they led him back to the interesting man who had so excited their young hearts. The man smiled upon the love-stricken youth, remembering his own days of courting, back when the world was new. Finally, the young man roused from his rosy visions enough to listen to those things the man had to tell. A thrill of excitement ran down his spine, for here was a purpose and a calling indeed!

To tell the truth, the boys and most of their cohort were bored. They had every material pleasure their hearts could desire but it was not enough. Kyan thought himself in love, but mostly he just liked being liked and had no comprehension of the true meaning of the word Love. They had no purpose, no direction, no meaning. What was the point of living? But here was an explanation for why the world was as it was and a challenge to live a life of significance. Said the man in caution, "remember lads, the Master demands your whole heart and being, your very souls! There are those that oppose Him bitterly and you might well pay for your devotion with your lives. If you still wish to pursue this calling, come tonight when we shall all gather in one place."

The boys exchanged an excited smile as he told them when and where to gather, so too did the dark figure smile as he listened intently from his hiding place, but his grin held only eager malice, there was no joy in the gesture at all. The boys dashed off to further discuss these exciting revelations while the old man continued on his way. The dark figure went in search of reinforcements, for he wanted this to be a memorable evening indeed.

Just because they had a secret meeting scheduled for later in the evening, did not mean the three lads could miss the biggest ball of the season. They dandied themselves up to perfection and looked forward to resuming their eager conversation in some quiet corner of the great house that hosted this evening's festivities. But their mothers and the assorted ladies their own age expected them to dance unceasingly for the first part of the evening. Having accomplished their social obligations, Bayard and Griffin managed to slip quietly away but Kyan found himself unable to disentangle himself from Suzanne, who though very attractive this evening, no longer dazzled his mind into pure and utter worship. He tried time and again to join his friends, but the girl was persistent and would not loose her hold on his sleeve. Finally he said, "Suzanne you must let me go! I cannot remain here any longer, for there is a needful thing I must do this evening."

She pouted quite alluringly, "I had hoped you meant to propose this night."

He swallowed hard, what had he been thinking to be so enamored with this girl? This would not be easy, but it must be done, he said as gently as he could, "I have come to realize I cannot marry you my dear..."

He trailed off as she shrieked, "what!?!" at the top of her lungs and froze the dancers in their steps. Kyan blushed scarlet, but did not lose this chance to escape the clutches of his lovely and furious companion.

His friends laughed merrily at Kyan's predicament, but eagerly hastened to the secret meeting arranged by the old man. In the depths of the woods they met, with a glorious sky full of stars looking on and the trees standing in silent vigil about them. The embarrassed trio was the last to arrive and the old man said amusedly, "I was afraid you would not make it."

"Now," said he to the dozen young men that had answered his call, "you are probably all wondering why we are here?" There were several murmurs of excitement as the man continued, "I invited you here tonight to learn more about those things that I hinted at in our previous conversations. You are those who seemed most eager for this mysterious calling. It is in no way required that you go any deeper into this matter if all you wish is to serve our Master in your daily lives, this you can accomplish quite easily in your day to day living by following those precepts I have already imparted to you. This meeting is solely for those who wish to know more of this ancient war and your potential role in it. If you commit to this venture, your lives are no longer your own. You will agree to dedicate them solely, and wholly for the use of our Master and whatever task he appoints each of you. There are those who oppose us with every fiber of their being and every power they possess; they will stop at nothing to thwart our Master's will. This quest will claim your lives, whether it be tonight or a hundred years from now, I cannot say but you must know this before we continue. If there are any here who wish to leave at this point, by all means, get you gone."

There was some embarrassed shifting but no one moved. The man smiled grimly, "then if you are serious in this endeavor, I hereby swear you all to utter secrecy. What you are about to hear is known to very few who still walk this mortal earth. You know of the ancient war between the Master and His once great servant who has become His greatest Enemy. This Enemy does not sleep, nor is he willing to let mortal men live in peace. There are men abroad who have sold their souls into slavery to this dark lord, some even have entered a living death and have become terrible creatures that do naught but his will. What I ask of you this night is to join the ranks of those who oppose these vile men and their undead comrades, that your kith and kin might dwell obliviously in peace."

The three latecomers exchanged wide-eyed looks of wonder, excitement coursed through their veins. The old man continued long into the night, making sure his listeners fully understood what it was they were about to undertake. Finally he finished and asked, "are there any who now would stand aside?" No one moved. "Very well," said he gravely, "come forth one by one and swear yourselves to this service." And so they came forward, each stating his intention to fully abide by all the old man had said, and then taking a long draught of water out of an ancient flagon. "Now," he said, once the last had come forth. "you are each sealed to this cause. Your duties and service will vary, but in the days to come you will each know what is asked of you. Let us disperse before our enemies find us, go back to your homes, and await eagerly your Calling."

The moon had risen and was well overhead by this time, giving plenty of light to the sojourners as they talked eagerly amongst themselves and started to slowly drift away toward their respective homes. All chaos suddenly broke loose amidst the scattered company as nameless creatures howled, wailed, and shrieked in the night, even as arrows and swords, claws and teeth struck wildly into the now panicked gathering. "Run!" shouted the old man, and then everything was terror and frenzy amongst the once eager initiates. Bayard screamed as something viciously sunk its claws into his back, but his two friends each grabbed one of his hands and drew him along in their flight. They found their horses still tied where they had left them, but mad with fright. They disentangled the panicky beasts, who needed no further urging to run. They galloped madly off into the night, heedless of holes or branches that might suddenly end their mad flight, only knowing that worse was behind than any danger that might lurk ahead.

They almost thought themselves away, when a fiendish howl behind them fed fresh fire into their horses' panic and the fear coursing through their own hearts. They prayed desperately to the Master they barely knew for salvation and wondered at the strange fate that would rob them of their lives the very night they decided to make something of them. Griffin's horse screamed, as only a mortally wounded equine can, and went crashing to the earth with his master upon his back, crying, "ride, ride! My horse has broken his leg. Don't stop, it will be the death of us all..."

Bayard and Kyan exchanged a terrified look, wanting to stop their mad flight and aid their friend, but his cries were already lost as whatever was pursuing them fell upon their fallen friend. All they could do was ride on in horror and grief. They galloped on until morning, having heard no sign of pursuit since poor Griffin had fallen behind. The rosy shades of dawn revealed the Great Sea shining crimson before them as their poor beasts collapsed on the beach in exhaustion. A little boat lay upon the shore and beckoned to both of the exhausted boys; they exchanged a tired smile and quickly climbed into the little craft and put out to Sea. They soon caught the current that carried them swiftly east towards the sunrise and the end of the world. They collapsed into an exhausted sleep as the day brightened and the little boat floated gaily along, caught in the strong eastbound current.

The sun had set and both boys roused in the cool of the evening as the first bright stars appeared in the darkening sky. Bayard moaned in agony, for his entire being felt afire with fever from the deep scratches he had received from some fierce beast on the night that seemed more nightmare than terrible reality. Kyan said quietly, "why are we at Sea?"

Bayard smiled weakly, "it felt like the right thing to do at the time."

Kyan thought back to that surreal morning and nodded, "I know of a certain that it was the right thing to do, but where are we going?"

Bayard shrugged and winced with the effort, "at least we left those fiends far behind."

Kyan implored, "but what lies ahead of us? We have no food, you are wounded, this current will bear us right off the edge of the map!"

Sample of 'On Sleeping Beauties: A Foible'

"No, no, no!" rang the irate fairy's strident voice as she perused the text before her, "this will never do, not in the least! That's not how it happened at all!"

"What's wrong with it?" gasped her journalistic companion in surprise, "I thought you were a Reformed Evil Fairy or some such?"

Her glare froze him in his seat as she replied icily, "that does not mean I will swoon and sigh over this pathetic drivel you have the audacity to call literature. Not even my goody-goody sister is that insipid."

"But what is wrong with it?" said the flummoxed, and rather nervous, writer in growing despair.

"The better question," said the fairy wryly, "is what is right with it. Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" She frowned slightly and added, "that and it is utterly dull."

"Dull?!" said he, his ire suddenly replacing his fear and surprise, "it is the consummate fairy tale!"

"That's the problem," said she with a heavy sigh, "I've had to give up the genre entirely in these latter years; it probably isn't your fault, the world isn't what it used to be. I suppose you don't even believe in dragons?"

"Of course not," said the man with a sneer, "why should I? Nor unicorns either, for that matter."

"So you can put a rider on your home insurance policy, of course" said the fairy with a laughing smirk, "what happens if a dragon should happen to fly over your house and sneeze?" He paled at this, wondering if his disbelief were so wise and trendy after all. She continued, "as for unicorns, there's not really any practical reason to believe in them, but it's to your own loss if you don't." He frowned at her, not catching her meaning but she was not about to enlighten him further.

Said he after a long and awkward silence, "very well, madam, I suppose since I importuned you for this very reason. You had best tell me how to improve my manuscript."

"Much better," said the Reformed Fairy of Blackfen, with something almost resembling a genuine smile. She took up the paper again and scanned the text, muttering under her breath as she read, "big party...angry fairy...the girl will die...irritating cousin mitigates the curse...pricks her finger on a spindle...long nap...smooch from a handsome prince...happily ever after." She looked up at him and said solemnly, "if you must know, it is very tedious indeed." His mouth fell open in astonishment but she charged on before he could utter anything he might afterwards regret, as he was in the presence of a magical person who did not suffer fools lightly, said she, "your characters have no personality, your plot has no depth, there isn't even a sprinkling of humor in it, the danger and suspense is nonexistent as we all know the prince will come eventually. That and it's historically inaccurate."

"Fine," grumped the journalist, sitting back in his chair, arms crossed, and the look of a sulking toddler on his face, "enlighten me."

"Oh, that I will," said the fairy in true delight as she tossed the paper aside, laughed she, "and it doesn't even begin with 'Once upon a time:'

"I need a baby," said the noble lady to her husband as he entered their extensive and fashionable house. He stared at her blankly for a moment, as if wondering why she just did not go out and procure one like she did her dresses and shoes, rather than bothering him with such trifling little details, but before he could fathom the full import of her words, she plunged ahead, "I was just over at the Jones's and they have the cutest little boy! Oh, darling! I want one; I must have one! Wouldn't a little girl be just the thing to liven up this rather dreary old house? Think of the adorable little clothes and accessories I could buy! The congratulations and adulation that would flow in!"

He was about to protest that babies were theoretically expensive, and from what he had heard, they were quite noisy and dreadfully messy, not to mention rather inconvenient, but then that is what one had staff for, was it not? And as money was no object in that particular household, why not? "Very well darling," said he, "if it makes you happy, nothing could please me more."

But it seems infants are slightly harder to procure than shoes of a particular size and shade, which is hard enough, most especially when you are impatient for the fulfillment thereof. So it was that little Midas Jones was walking and beginning to babble almost recognizable verbiage, which his mother insisted were words, whilst our esteemed lady's frustrations mounted over her inability to produce such an adorable creature of her own, but more importantly she was unable to reap the social excitement and congratulations that would undoubtedly flow unceasingly from such a fount. She consulted every known sorcerer, apothecary, physician, and herbalist she could find who specialized in such matters, but all to no avail.

But just as the baby craze seemed to be fading in that particular neighborhood, though exotic poultry were becoming quite fashionable, our lady found herself the mother of a beautiful little girl, in celebration of which, they threw a fantastic party, inviting everyone who was anyone in the entire Kingdom and beyond. The happy couple stood at the door greeting their guests as carriage after carriage rolled up and disgorged one fabulously clad celebrant after another, all obviously bored silly and there out of duty rather than any fondness for children in general or this couple in particular. The proud parents had just turned to follow the last invited guest into the house, when a rather irritated throat cleared behind them, drawing their attention. "Yes?" said the perplexed lady of the house to the rather curiously dressed individual loitering upon her expensive and stately steps.

"I fear my invitation must have been mislaid or lost by the carrier, for I never received it," said the interesting personage.

"Invitation?!" said the lady, quite aghast that this odd person could even think that she would ever extend an invitation to such a peculiar and shabbily clad being.

"It is the only explanation," said the creature, quite indifferent to the hostess' shock, "for who would dare not invite me?"

"Who or what are you, madam?" said the astounded lady.

"What?" said the disturbing vision, with a certain dangerous edge in her voice that even the flabbergasted lady could not miss, "I am not a what but a who, madam! I am the Fairy of Blackfen."

"Ah!" said the relieved host, coming to his lady's rescue, "that explains it then. For you see, we don't happen to believe in fairies, it is quite unfashionable and therefore unthinkable, and since we do not believe in your existence, well, you can't expect an invitation when you don't exist now, can you? No hard feelings I hope. Ta ta!" He stared at her expectantly for a moment, as if he expected her to immediately tip over dead, and then seemed rather crestfallen when she failed to do anything half so obliging.

The fairy frowned at him, "why are you standing there gaping?"

"I would think you of all people would have read that particular story?" said he in wonder, "when I said, 'we don't believe in fairies,' aren't you supposed to drop dead or something?"

The fairy said with a longsuffering sigh, but could not entirely hide her wry smirk, "I am afraid that particular story is not this particular story, thus the rules are quite different. So sorry to disoblige you, now what about my invitation?"

"I am afraid not," said the lady of the house with a firm shake of her head, "it would never do! Your attire alone is five hundred years out of fashion, not to mention what my neighbors would think if I actually let a fairy in the house! It would be utterly ridiculous and I could never again show my face in fashionable society. Now if you were a leprechaun or some other well-to-do and currently in-vogue pixie-type person, I might make an exception, but it is completely unthinkable in this instance! I bid you good day, madam; I have a party to host!"

The fairy laughed darkly and said in her most sinister voice, which was impressively creepy, "what if I threatened to curse your child else?"

"Oh, would you!" said the lady in sudden delight. At the astonished and confused looks she received not only from the fairy but also from her husband, she added by way of explanation, "little Midas Jones was hexed after calling the new teacher at his Montessori, 'an ugly old hag,' when she pinched him and said he looked good enough to eat. It was only the truth after all, but still she sued the Montessori and won enough money to pay cash for that homely old gingerbread mansion down the street. Who builds with carbs nowadays? Anyway, then she went and cursed him besides. Now everything he touches turns to gold! I had thought about asking if we could babysit now and again, but this would be even better." Her husband still looked rather perplexed, though the fairy now seemed to understand far more about this particular couple than they knew about themselves. The lady rolled her eyes and sighed, "what is it dear? What was unclear about what I just said?"

The man shook his head, "what's a Montessori? Some sort of fancy sandwich shop?"

With another sigh, his wife expounded, "it is an elite and expensive school for very young children, I had one picked out even before our daughter was born; you can't start too early, you know." She eyed the fairy eagerly, "what do you think?"

Said the fairy dryly, "I don't think there's a worse curse I could lay on you people than the existence you already lead."

"What is that supposed to mean?" snapped the lady in vexation, "the Jones's have a child with a curse, how am I to be content without one too?"

The fairy wore a mocking smile, "you continue to prove my point, madam. But I won't be cursing your wretched whelp with anything half so interesting as the golden touch. I suppose I could destine her to prick her finger on a spindle and fall into a wakeless sleep, or even to die; it's trite, but effective." She frowned, "but then there's always the matter of some pesky prince showing up and ruining everything; I can't abide a 'happily ever after.' No, I'll leave things as they are, I'll let you stew in your insipidness and go vainly about your pathetic lives, but I will not forget this and one day, I will have my revenge on the entire neighborhood. It used to be an actually respectable part of the Kingdom, except maybe for that troll under the bridge, but I'd take him over any of your ilk, drat those goats! At least he kept the riffraff out."

The lady looked rather baffled after this expostulation and asked for clarification upon the most important point, at least to her thinking, "what exactly is a spindle?"

The fairy sighed heavily, and replied, "I suppose you've never actually had to do any sort of actual handicrafts? Making your own dresses, spinning, sewing, that sort of thing?"

"Making dresses?" said the flummoxed lady, "I have never heard of anything so ridiculous! Why, I just send a page down to a certain seamstress with precise instructions as to what I want and need, and her lad brings it over in a trice. No fuss, no mess, just magic! Or does she grow them? Sewing indeed! What nonsense!"

The fairy's head was in her hands, though whether trying to hide her amusement or frustration this tale does not tell, sighed she at long last, "never mind madam, it matters not." And then she vanished. The baffled couple exchanged a perplexed look and then went in to their guests with quite the story to tell."

"That is utterly ridiculous!" gasped the journalist, as the fairy paused in her telling of the tale.

"I know," sighed the fairy, thinking she had made her point at last, "such was the state of the world even then, and it has only grown worse since."

"No!" said the offended man, "they could have been my parents! What happened to the King and Queen? The castle? Who wants to hear a fairy tale set in the suburbs?"

"Apparently not you," said the fairy darkly, but softening her tone, she said more graciously, "but then you can't really help your upbringing I suppose and it explains much about your own lackluster tale." She glanced derisively at the cast off manuscript, "I suppose you can't help that! Now do you want to hear the rest of the tale or shall I call in a psychologist so you can work through your traumatic childhood first?"

"By all means, please continue," said the man, who was now white as a ghost, though whether at the thought of displeasing this magically dangerous personage or at the very idea that he might need counseling, she did not know. She smiled in a very pleased fashion, for either would suffice, and then continued:

"After the congratulations and socially enforced awe that attend the advent of a new baby in the family had subsided to a mere trickle, and as the lady's trendy chicken fetish consumed more and more of her time, the child was relegated to the care of a person known only as 'nurse.' And as Nurse was a rather old and perpetually exhausted person, she required a great deal of sleep, which only increased as the child grew, thus the dear lady spent most of her waking hours dozing in a chair in the garden whilst her charge ran amuck amongst the ferns and hedgerows. While her mother truly had picked out a Montessori, a husband, the names of her grandchildren, etc. before the girl was even born, the all-consuming pressure of trends and fashion soon turned her mind to other, more pressing concerns and her daughter's brilliant future was quite soon forgotten therewith.

The disgruntled fairy had not forgotten her promise and watched the family with interest as the child grew, wondering if she could come up with a curse worse than the girl's current reality. However, the girl was not without allies, for this particular fairy had a sister, one with whom she was not on very good terms, for in the elder's usually blunt way of expressing things, she summed up her younger sister as a quote, 'goody two-shoes!' The younger saw what the elder was plotting and felt the need to intervene on behalf of the child, though whether she was protecting the girl from her parents or her vengeful sister, or both, was yet to be seen."

"This is actually becoming a little bit interesting," said the man, whose complexion had returned to a somewhat more natural color, "do you not find it odd to speak of yourself in the third person?"

The fairy glared at him and he was suddenly pallid as milk once more, said she, "if you would please not interrupt, you will soon discover that the story becomes quite interesting indeed. And a good storyteller has no difficulty in speaking in the third, fourth, or even fifth person!"

The man frowned, "the fifth person?"

"Only slightly more difficult to master than the fourth-and-a-half person," said she with dancing eyes, causing his cheeks to redden in fury as he realized she was making fun of him rather than imparting the literary secrets of Faerie. Ignoring his interest in the grammatical rules peculiar to immortals, she continued:

"The great horse whinnied nervously; the knight looked around in dread, wondering what could cause the usually unflappable animal such unease. Such was its training that it did not flinch, even before dragons. The friendly light of eventide suddenly became the black of a storm-wracked night and all the whispered noises of a sylvan twilight were now as a tomb. A scornful female voice scoffed in the menacing gloom, "well hero? What will come of you? Will you live or die? Will you ride upon my whims or shall the earth swallow you whole?"

The man shuddered, but knew to his very soul that he could never serve such a vile mistress, said he as boldly as terror allowed, "do your worst, fell lady, but I shall never serve such as thee." The only answer was her mocking laughter as the ground upon which the horse stood suddenly became treacherous as that of mire or fen. The horse screamed his terror but was soon silenced as they sank from the sight and knowledge of mortal men."

"Certainly far more dramatic than my rendition," said the man in approval, "but I still don't see where a spindle fits into all of this?"

"You are utterly ruining my tale!" said she with another irritated glare, "and unless you want to finish the story as an amphibian, I would highly advise against further outbursts!"

### Sample Chapters of 'Captain of Shadow:'

### Chapter 1:

Prince Vayel sat his horse and smiled broadly as he surveyed the wide green land that spread out in all its bounteous splendor before him, for one day, all of this would be his. Sighing contentedly, he turned his horse and carefully made his way down the precarious trail that led to the ridge from which he had just surveyed the realm of Adora, of which his father was King and he the crown Prince. His heart, buoyant with the immortal joy of unspoiled youth and the hope of a bright future before him, he kicked his gelding to a cantor and turned towards home. He had not gone far when the baying of hounds, the thunder of hooves, and the strident cry of a hunting horn broke the spell. Wishing rather to gallop all the way home with none the wiser, he dutifully reined in his horse and allowed the hunting party to catch up, not surprised to see his cousin Flinn at the very heart of the mayhem, and from the way he swayed in his saddle and laughed insipidly at the least provocation, he was drunk as well, another fact that was far from surprising.

"Well, well," giggled the noble youth, "if it isn't my uptight, no nonsense cousin! Finally taking a moment away from all your pressing and vital duties to actually enjoy the day?" He smiled broadly at his companions, who were neither quite so brash nor so thoroughly inebriated as to dare making fun of such a personage as the Crown Prince. Finding no help from that quarter, he returned his attention to his obviously vexed cousin, "aren't you always lecturing me on how much of a waste just such activities are?"

The Prince said quietly, "a quiet ride in the country is a far cry from the spectacles you are wont to indulge in."

"Spectacles!" squawked Flinn with a lopsided smile, "you hear that me lads! I told you we was a sight to behold and here's one as agrees with me no end!" He hiccupped and was lost for a moment in mirth at some private joke, then sobering slightly, he saluted flamboyantly and said in parting, "let us not detain you then, my good sir, for we have more spectacle...spectaclating...spectulating....to do!" He laid in his heels and the entire company had soon vanished amidst the woodland shadows.

Vayel shook his head sadly and continued his journey home, wondering what would come of such a dissolute lad; he had so much potential but squandered it on vain entertainments and drowned it in drink. But the world was bright about him, as was the future before him, and even his cousin's obnoxious insouciance could not long spoil his mood. With a lighter heart, he continued on his way. His horse snorted suddenly, stopping of his own accord, ears pricked and looking uneasily up the path. Vayel frowned in consternation, but slid from his saddle, hand on his sword hilt, but drawn inexorably in the direction of whatever it was that had discomfited the horse. He sighed in wonder, his hand falling away from his weapon even as he dropped to his knees in awe and no little fear.

"Walk with me, child," came the gentle voice. The boy was on his feet in a moment and walking silently beside the Great Unicorn, as He continued, "you are blessed with much." The boy nodded and He continued, "and you find great joy and contentment therein." The boy smiled wanly, wondering where his Master was going with this particular line of thought. Suddenly the Unicorn stopped and turned to look upon the boy, who dropped to his knees in sudden, dreadful anticipation. "What if you were to lose it all?" came the awful question. The boy shuddered and He continued, "your beloved father, your reputation, the crown, even your life?" The boy's eyes were wide with terror, but He had not finished, "and all for the sake of one whose actions you despise above all else?"

Vayel shuddered, studying the leaf litter for a moment, and then glanced up uneasily into those fathomless eyes; he gasped in wonder and dread at the love and sorrow written therein even as his gaze fell upon the ever bleeding wound in His side, said he in a barely audible whisper, but had he said nothing at all, still He would have heard it, said the boy, "if it must be so, I will endure what I must, as You have endured far worse for my sake and that of all mankind." He looked up with pleading eyes, "does this mean there is hope for him? That he will find meaning and purpose at last? That he will use the gifts You have given him for the good of others?"

The Unicorn shook his head sadly, "there are no guarantees child, not where a human will is concerned. He will certainly have every chance of making that choice, but it is his decision alone; I will not force My will upon him."

Vayel sighed heavily, "then it could all be for naught."

"Yes," said the Unicorn sadly, glancing significantly at His own bleeding side, "there are many for whom the ultimate sacrifice is still not sufficient cause to look beyond themselves for purpose, direction, and meaning."

The boy said in dismay, "but if this must be, what of the Kingdom?"

The Unicorn shook His great head, "nay child, that is not your concern. You must accomplish the task that is set before you and trust the rest to Me. I work all things together for good, though mortal minds cannot fathom it at the time, or even in long years afterward. It will one day make sense, but for now, you must have faith."

The boy looked up to ask another question, but it died on his lips, for the Unicorn was gone. He stood slowly, his boyish enthusiasm forgotten, as if he were suddenly a very old man looking upon a looming winter that would never again yield to Spring's bright caress, but a strange determination and courage had risen in his heart, knowing he must face the unthinkable yet knowing somehow, despite everything, in the end he would triumph, or rather his Master would, and in that, he took great comfort. He returned to his horse, climbed into the saddle, and set off at a thoughtful walk.

"Oh, Highness!" came the aggrieved voice as Vayel rode into the courtyard of the castle, "you have returned at last! The unthinkable has happened and we feared you too had somehow been caught up in this disaster, for your father the King," the Steward stopped to take a deep, steadying breath before continuing, "your father is dead."

The Prince's eyes were wide and he nearly fell from his saddle in shock, though he had had warning of that which was to come, for he loved his father dearly; he was a great and gracious King, unrivaled in the history of Adora yet also the best of fathers, at least in Vayel's opinion. He bowed his head, offering up a hasty prayer for strength, and then shakily slid from his horse, said he quietly, "what happened?"

The Steward shook his head gravely, "we do not know. He was in the best of spirits this morning, attending to his duties with his usual vigor, but after the noon meal, he withdrew to his chambers, begging illness. When his valet went to waken him some hours later, he found him dead in his bed. You too were missing at the time and near panic set in, but your uncle, the King's brother, gravely called us all to order and said he would personally investigate the matter and that a patrol should be sent out to find you with all haste. We have been anxiously watching and waiting ever since."

Vayel shook his head, "these are grave tidings indeed, sir. What is to come of the Crown? I am not yet old enough, according to our laws, to ascend the throne?"

The Steward said rather hesitantly, "your uncle shall reign in your stead, until you are of age, and then it shall pass to you."

"Very well," said Vayel slowly, "could it have been murder?"

The Steward's eyes widened and he glanced anxiously at the various occupants of the courtyard as Vayel suddenly understood that he should not have spoken such aloud in a public venue, for there would be rumors enough without him adding fuel to the fire. Said the Steward quietly, "we know little thus far."

Vayel brightened marginally, "what of my father's Advisor from Astoria? Certainly his wisdom would be of great value in this crisis."

The Steward shook his head, "we cannot find him. He vanished even more precipitously than you, at least none have seen him leave the castle proper, whereas a few guards and servants knew you were off riding in the woods. It is all very disturbing and mysterious."

"Of a certainty," said the Prince with a frown, "I must speak to my uncle."

The Steward shook his head, "it is not to be, Sire. He wished to be apprised of your safe return but said he would be far too busy to speak with you this day, but he promised to summon you for an audience the first chance thereafter."

"So there is nothing for me to do? No service I could render?" asked Vayel in growing dismay, at least if he were busy about some needful task, perhaps the dreadful ache growing in his heart would not be near so noticeable.

The Steward said morosely, "I fear not Highness, save to mourn the loss of so great a man."

And there was nothing to be done, at least by the Crown Prince, for the next three days thereafter, though the rest of the palace population was fairly busy with funeral preparations and the like. His uncle's investigation had turned up nothing, neither had the various doctors and apothecaries been able to discern the cause of death, so in due course, the King was buried and still the Regent had not spoken with his nephew, who could do naught but wander the corridors aimlessly or sit for hours on end in the library, a book forgotten in his lap. Still the King's Advisor did not appear, and the boy felt utterly alone and forgotten; worse, he knew this was only the beginning of terrible things to come. His cousin on the other hand, went his way as blithely as ever, thoroughly enjoying the festivities and chaos surrounding a royal funeral but otherwise oblivious to the grievous blow that had been dealt to both the Kingdom as a whole and Vayel in particular.

As he sat in his chair in the abandoned library the night after the burial, gazing morosely into the fire, Vayel wondered if he had the heart to endure what was to come. It all seemed so surreal and courageous, like something in one of the old tales, at least when in the Master's very presence, but now that he was in the midst of it, he felt so small and frail and alone. But he was not alone, and as he suddenly looked upon that awful Presence, he knew nothing more or perhaps was nothing more.

He blinked groggily back to consciousness and glanced about him in dismay, wondering where he was. It was completely dark, he stood suddenly and fell just as precipitously with a cry of pain, tentatively reaching a hand up to feel that on which he had nearly cracked his skull. He felt a slanting roof of weathered wood and then sneezed violently, as his movements stirred up the dusty hay on which he lay. With a grim smile, he had a very good idea where he was, but why and how? Carefully, he crawled out of the forgotten loft, wherein he and his cousin had spent many happy hours as children, their parents being blissfully unaware of their unseemly antics, but so familiar was the hayloft in the old stable that he easily found his way down, even in the utter dark. Shakily, he set both his feet on the ground and leant heavily against the rough hewn and partially rotten wood of the walls. He took a deep breath and a small step, repeating the process until he stood at last in the courtyard under all the stars of heaven. He marveled at their stark beauty for a moment before the world was all darkness once more.

He awoke with a headache, not induced solely by his encounter with the stable roof, and groaned as he rolled into a sitting position. He opened his eyes and stared directly into the horrified face of one of his father's guardsmen. He frowned and glanced about, wondering what could precipitate the man's look of utter disgust and shock. Vayel's face was suddenly a perfect imitation of the guard's, for the missing man from Astoria lay in a pool of his own blood, his throat cut, not an arm's length from the horrified boy, and only then did Vayel realize he clutched a bloody dagger in his own hand. The blackness was immediately upon him once more.

He awoke to find a half dozen of his father's guards gathered around him, their captain splashing cold water on the boy's face, trying to rouse him from his faint. As he blinked back to the horrifying reality that was his life at that moment, the guard asked, "what happened here?" The boy shook his head, unable to speak in shock and horror and confusion; the man had been a friend and mentor, to lose him so soon after his father's death only added salt to the gaping wound that was his heart. "I'm afraid we'll have to take this matter to the Regent immediately, Sire," said the uneasy guardsman, "I hope you won't make a fuss?"

The boy gaped, they thought he was responsible for this despicable deed! He sighed heavily and shook his head morosely, allowing them to lift him to his feet and get him settled on a horse. They likewise loaded up the dead man and returned to the castle as fast as their prisoner and grim burden would allow.

The Regent paced before them in dismay, occasionally glancing at Vayel in horror and disgust, "where have we failed you? How could you have gone so wrong?"

Vayel frowned, speaking at last, "of what do you speak, Sir?"

His uncle spitted him with a furious glare, "blood magic! Do not dare feign ignorance! You will be the ruin of the entire Kingdom, a Kingdom which would have been rightfully yours had you but waited for your father to die naturally, rather than viciously cutting short his life with your vile sorcery!"

Vayel gaped, "how can you make such an accusation, Sir?"

The Regent shook his head, in grave disappointment, "you are covered in the evidence. You were caught in the very act. How else would you explain your father's mysterious death?"

Vayel's shoulders slumped as he studied the guards, courtiers, and servants standing in the courtyard about him, nodding slowly or exchanging grim, knowing looks with their fellows. He did not know what had happened, but he had no evidence to the contrary, though he knew the accusations were utterly false, he had no way to prove it and it seemed the court had already accepted his uncle's grim view of things. Thus perished his reputation and all hope of ever gaining the crown, all he had left to him was his life, and that too his uncle seemed intent on stripping away as soon as possible.

Said the Regent in grim finality, "the punishment for such grievous crimes can only be death, only thereby may we spare the Kingdom from the Master's incumbent wrath." He smiled slightly in cruel glee, "of course we will have to make it a public execution and a grisly one at that, as befits treason of this magnitude."

Vayel suddenly straightened and glared at his uncle, he might be a dead man, but he would not go quietly to his grave, "I will appeal my case to the Lady of Astoria."

The Regent looked rather surprised at this sudden outburst from the condemned, but shrugged as if it mattered little, "let it be as you wish it, it is your right after all. Flinn!"

The Regent's only child crept out of the crowd of courtiers and quavered, "yes, Sire?"

"You will take this villain to Astoria and see that justice is done," growled the Regent. He turned to the guardsman that had discovered the ghastly scene, "accompany the Prince and the prisoner to Astoria, Captain." With a final glare for Vayel, he turned suddenly on his heel and marched into the castle, leaving all and sundry to gape like stranded fish.

Flinn gave his cousin an irate frown, "just like you to continue ruining my fun!"

Vayel gaped, "my father has just died mysteriously and I am condemned to death for the murder of a man I held almost as dear and all you can do is grouse about your spoiled pleasantries?"

Flinn shrugged uneasily, "why should I care or be so ill used? It has nothing to do with me!"

Vayel said gravely, "with me and my father out of the way, you are next in line for the crown, thus it involves you deeply, whether you would or not."

Flinn mouthed an astonished 'oh,' and then turned his consternation into a hasty order to begin preparations to leave. The guardsmen and servants scattered in every direction while the courtiers stood off to the side and whispered eagerly amongst themselves. The captain stood beside Flinn, a length of rope in his hands, "shall we bind him, Sire?"

Flinn blanched at both the new title and the responsibilities inherent therein and said anxiously, "do as you think you must, Captain." He stalked off towards the stable, hoping to escape all such entanglements for a few moments, uneasy with so much responsibility so suddenly thrust upon him. Vayel sighed sadly at his cousin's retreating back and then offered his hands to the stymied captain that he might bind them, as he seemed to think necessary.

They were off well before midday, Flinn slouching in his saddle and grumbling under his breath, apparently sulking at the dreadful reality in which he now found himself while Vayel felt a strange sort of peace settle upon him, knowing all would soon be over, one way or another. The guards rode ahead of and behind the cousins, glancing uneasily amongst themselves, unsure what they thought of the entire situation but doing their duty as best they could. Either the former prince was a traitor of the worst sort or justice had been grievously denied him, either way, they were quite discomfited by their predicament and the new prince did nothing to relieve them of their apprehension.

So did the disconsolate little party travel, lost in their own thoughts and misgivings, wondering what would come of the matter when at last the Lady passed judgment. The courtiers watched them ride off with malicious smiles and gloating sneers whilst the townsfolk watched with grim eyes, wondering what was to come of the Kingdom itself in such a circumstance. Vayel was very glad when the woods closed in around them and hid them from curious and speculative eyes. Strangely, Flinn was the one who seemed to be wrestling with the inevitability of the situation rather than the one condemned to death. Hardly a word was spoken between any of them on the entire interminable journey.

At last, Astoria lay before them and all rejoiced at the sight thereof, hoping it would yield answers that weeks of constant worry and contemplation had not. The captain of the guard announced their business at the castle gates, seeing as how the Prince would not or perhaps could not, for he was nearly catatonic as he continued to mull over this disturbing shift in his destiny. The Lady saw them immediately and heard their various stories, at least from Vayel and the guardsman, Flinn took little interest in the proceedings. At last, the Lady withdrew with several of her advisors and said grimly, "the evidence is both condemning yet highly circumstantial! Can we condemn the boy to death as easily as his uncle has done?"

Jared shook his head gravely, "you have not said all, my Lady, nor asked him directly if he committed this grievous crime."

She frowned at him and his seeming ability to read her mind, "I have no choice in the matter; the boy must die, regardless."

Jared nodded, "my thoughts exactly."

Her frown became thoughtful, "there is more to this than I yet realize, isn't there?"

Jared smiled grimly, "far more than any of us can yet comprehend, my Lady."

She nodded, "do what you must." He bowed deeply and they returned to the main audience chamber, those gathered therein impatiently awaiting the verdict. Said she heavily, "I must condemn you to death." The boy bowed his head in simple acceptance while his cousin took the news as if it were his own sentence, slumping dejectedly into a chair and refusing even to look up. She turned to Jared and nodded, "and the sentence will be carried out immediately." The boy nodded and allowed the servant and one of the Brethren to lead him away. Flinn did not even look up as he passed. The guard watched him go with stony contempt and then turned to attend to his aggrieved lord.

They led him to the furthest corner of the dungeons and he knelt with his head over the block as the axe was raised, said a strangely jubilant voice as the axe fell, "this is only the beginning lad." As it found its mark, an awful light filled the grim little room, obliterating all therein. The axe fell to the floor with a sharp clang as the hands that held it vanished along with its intended victim.

### Chapter 2:

"My life is over!" bemoaned Prince Flinn as the captain of his guard approached, concern on his face, the comment causing him to frown slightly in consternation, but the grimace was just as quickly hidden. "Now all hope is lost," said he morosely as Vayel was led away, "I had hoped the Lady would grant him a reprieve, and then we could all go home and things could get back to normal. What am I to do with all this responsibility that has been thrust upon me?"

The captain said cautiously, "it is not my place to either question or advise you Sire, unless you specifically ask me for such, but it would seem to me that this place is ideal for learning just that."

The Prince slumped back into his chair and groaned, "an education?! What fun is there in that?"

The guard suddenly drew back and bowed deeply, causing the Prince to sit up straight and glance in the direction the anxious guard was looking, only to see the Lady herself approaching the distraught Prince. He hastily shot to his feet and offered her a clumsy courtesy, wondering exactly what degree of formality was required from a person of his rank to hers under the prevailing circumstances, Vayel would know, but the fool was probably dead by now, some help he was! She studied him for a very long moment with her far too keen eyes, making Flinn feel a mouse under a hawk's gaze, at last she spoke quietly, "what is happening in Adora, Sire? Might we be of assistance? You seem quite ill at ease yourself, but I suppose such a fate befalling your cousin and uncle in quick succession must be unpleasant indeed."

Unpleasant? For whom, him? He frowned at this thought, he supposed he should feel a little sympathy on their behalf, but he had enough problems of his own to worry about that wasting pity on dead men seemed rather pointless. He said slowly, "I don't know if you can help me or not, for you see, the thing that most troubles me is that now that my father is King, I am heir to the throne and all that responsibility is not something I want. It was quite unfair of my uncle to go and die suddenly and even worse of my cousin to go meddling in things that could get him killed. I don't know what to do!"

The Lady frowned, "it all seems rather suspicious to me. Perhaps I should send one of my servants to investigate these mysterious happenings, and until we know your father isn't involved in anything nefarious, perhaps you had best remain here, Highness. You need not attend classes or formally enroll as a Student if that is not of interest to you, but I would advise that you not venture home until this matter is resolved. Perhaps your cousin was truly the villain behind it all, but I begin to think he was as much a victim as his father and my murdered servant."

Flinn gaped, "but you just sent him to his death! Now you think him innocent? Are you mad? That was my last, best hope of escaping this unendurable fate!" She frowned at his thoughtless words, but he continued unheeding, "but perhaps you are right, I am in desperate need of sanctuary at the moment, yes, sanctuary is just the thing. When's lunch?"

It took all her long years of practicing patience not to throttle the young man before her or to gape openly at his thoughtlessness. Said she as calmly as she could muster, "you may eat as soon as this interview is finished, as to your cousin's fate, that is a matter strictly between himself and the Master and has nothing whatsoever to do with my feelings upon the matter. Welcome to Astoria, your Highness. I will dispatch one of my best agents to your Kingdom immediately that this matter may be rectified as soon as possible. Good day!" She nodded briefly in farewell and hied herself quickly from the room, leaving the guard to exchange a wondering look with the baffled prince. A servant entered soon thereafter to get the boy settled, he followed silently after, too confounded to say anything.

The Regent watched his nephew and his own fool of a son ride off with their escort from a window high up in one of the towers, a malicious smile on his face, at last, he could attend to the business of ruling the Kingdom. He would have enjoyed watching the boy die before the entire Kingdom, but perhaps it was just as well he died quietly in a foreign land, the sooner to be forgotten. As to his own heir, he little cared what came of the fool boy, just as long as he was not bothering his father, not that he really needed an heir as he intended to live forever. Now all he need do was watch for the Lady's agent that would undoubtedly be dispatched to investigate the mysterious happenings in Adora. He did not doubt the boy would die, it had been promised to him, even the Lady of Astoria could not thwart the boy's destiny or the source of such a prophecy. His smile deepened as he turned from the window to get down to the glorious business of actually being King.

Lose everything indeed! The creature studied itself curiously, not in horror as might be expected at such a radical transformation, but calmly and with no little amusement, though it seemed to be wrought entirely of dark mist when once he had been a very Prince of the Realm. But what were mortal Kingdoms to this? The only part of himself, at least that he could see, that was not shadow incarnate was a small silver unicorn glinting with its own light on his right palm. That was the reason he could smile, even when he lacked the features to do so, for it was the Mark of the One to whom he belonged, and never could he be snatched from that great and mighty hand, no matter what strange adventures befell him.

He remembered hearing someone whisper that the adventure was only begun right before that dreadful light was unleashed and then he knew nothing but Light. He remembered that Light, it was the same that had consumed him utterly one fateful night in the library, a Light more glorious than life itself. He glanced down in wonder, his shadowy visage had vanished and his entire being pulsed with that deadly Light. With a thought, he garbed himself again in darkness and frowned, this would never do! It suddenly occurred to him that he was also the source of that all-consuming radiance in the dungeons of Astoria. He must learn to control himself, whatever he was now. For a moment he wondered what had happened to the two men in the dungeons with him, they could not have survived such a display, but then at least one of them knew things were not as they seemed. He smiled eagerly, he was not alone, whatever this new adventure was. Suddenly he felt himself inexplicably dissolving and the Light that wrought his very being threatened to break forth once more, but with a thought, he schooled it to quiescence and allowed himself to evaporate.

He reappeared, still a wraithlike shadow, in a very familiar place. A figure clad in the livery of Adora stood propping the small kitchen gate open and was motioning frantically at him. With another frown, he approached the odd servant and entered the castle proper as the man quickly secured the gate behind him. "This way shadow," growled the man, "my master does not like to be kept waiting." Vayel hissed quietly but refrained from comment as he followed the villainous looking fellow high up into the utmost towers of the keep, higher than he had ever gone before, even as an adventure bent lad of seven exploring the various nooks and crannies of the ancient castle. The minion knocked upon a certain door in a certain way, opened it when bidden to do so, and then motioned that the wraith should enter alone, fleeing the moment he closed the door behind the shadow.

Vayel's uncle turned from his study of the fire and eyed the shadow speculatively, "what took you so long?"

"We come when it suits us," hissed the shadow, not quite sure from whence the words sprang.

"So be it," sighed the Regent, "I have a job for you."

"Obviously," snarled the wraith, "else you would not have sent for me."

"I tire of your insolence, shade," snapped the King, "go to Astoria, find my fool of a son, and either corrupt him or destroy him, I care not which."

"With pleasure," hissed the wraith as it fled out the window, leaving the Regent to his study of the flames. Vayel grinned, it would be a pleasure indeed to try corrupting the hedonistic boy, and if he succeeded, perhaps he would make a proper King after all. He felt himself dissolving again and this time the light did not stir, for there was no panic or unease this time around. His smile deepened, could he be getting used to this strange new occupation?

Vayel reappeared again in the dungeons of Astoria, he just had time to register that fact before he felt a piercing pain in his chest and fell again into darkness. Baye looked at Jared with a raised eyebrow and a quizzical expression on his face as the sword in the servant's hands vanished, "was that necessary?"

Jared grinned broadly, "yes, I had to verify that he could control himself."

Baye smiled reminiscently, remembering his own turn teaching that particular skill to his various apprentices, said he with a thoughtful nod, "it seems he can, but how did he learn that particular skill with none to teach him?"

Jared smiled mysteriously, "perhaps he is of a more thoughtful turn of mind than the rest of you rapscallions that currently comprise the Shadow."

Baye eyed his old friend in some surprise, "what are you not telling me?"

Jared sighed heavily as he knelt beside the prone form, looking up at Baye he said quietly, "it has been a very long time, far too long."

Baye nodded and then smiled sadly, "I understand." He frowned at the boy, "why not choose a replacement from within the Shadow?"

Jared shook his head as he sent a pulse of light into the inert form, "I have no more say in the matter than any of the Brethren do in the selection of a new Lady of Astoria." As the boy stirred and sat up with a groan, Jared stood and took a step back to stand beside Baye.

The boy studied them curiously, a slight, eager smile on his face, said he at last, "can someone please explain what is going on here?"

His elders burst out laughing at his perplexity and eagerness, but Jared quickly gained control of his mirth, though the corners of his mouth kept twitching inexplicably, said he, "it has certainly been a strange time for you no doubt, but at last you will have answers." As the boy gained his feet, the Captain of the Shadow continued wryly, "and I promise not to assault you with any sharp pointy objects, at least for the next few minutes."

Vayel's smile deepened as he caught the Captain's mood, said he, "I would appreciate that." He studied what he could see of himself and asked, "I am myself again?"

Baye grinned, "you have always been yourself, you can never be anything but, but yes, you currently look like the boy you once were."

"Were?" asked Vayel in growing excitement "if I am no longer a boy, what then am I?"

Jared gave his old friend a patient look, "you were and are and ever will be a man, but what he means is that you have become a Shadow, a mortal man no longer, but still a man, save with a few useful talents."

Vayel shook his head, "I little understand."

"I know," said Jared, "your recruitment was not done in the usual manner, but you'll quickly learn and I dare say you won't be disappointed."

Vayel grinned, "so far it has been one strange adventure, but certainly interesting." He frowned at the axe where it lay on the floor, "why all the sharp pointy objects and their use upon my person?"

Jared shrugged, "upon your arrival, I had to verify that you could control the light within you, no matter what, lest you prove a danger to others, and you certainly proved your ability to do just that. As for the Lady's decree to have your head off," he smiled wryly, "none of us thought you guilty of murder or blood magic, but we just knew it had to be done. It wasn't the first time in the history of the Shadow where a man has been executed as a necessary part of his duties." As the boy's consternation deepened, he continued, "and don't ask us why, none of us have an answer, at least not yet. Get used to it, sometimes your adventures and duties will not make a whole lot of sense but you still must be about them."

Vayel nodded slowly, "it will not be the first time, but if the Master has demonstrated anything, it is that I can trust Him, no matter what." He grinned, "He promised me death and heartache and infamy, all of which came to pass, but He has also blessed me in the midst of my sorrow, more than I can even begin to comprehend. What now?"

Jared answered, "you'll be apprenticing with me, which will be a little awkward as I am not an officially recognized member of the Brethren. The servants don't usually take on apprentices, but I think a servant of my standing can have a page at his beck and call."

Vayel smiled at the irony, "I was once the Crown Prince of Adora and now I'm naught but the servant of a servant in Astoria?"

Jared chuckled, "I am the very Captain of the Shadow lad, yet I spend my days as a mere servant, but are we not all servants of the Master?"

"Quite," said Vayel, "but I also have a mission."

"All the better," said Jared, "it will help keep you out of mischief whilst I'm busy elsewhere."

Baye frowned, "isn't he supposed to be dead?"

Jared grinned, "none but the Lady, his cousin, the captain of the Prince's guard, and we know anything of that. I don't think it will pose too much of a problem, besides, he needs to go about as himself if he is to accomplish what he must with his cousin." He eyed the boy's bloody and tattered tunic, "but you'd best do something about your appearance before we can be seen in decent company."

Baye laughed, "I always knew we weren't quite what the social elite would consider proper, no wonder I never get invited to fancy dinner parties."

The boy studied his ruined clothes, concentrated for a moment, and suddenly the blood was gone and the tattered fabric was whole once more. He exchanged an eager look with Jared, who said with a smile, "if only it were that easy to get stains out of the carpet."

Baye rolled his eyes emphatically, "spoken like a true servant!"

Jared gave him a reproving look, but ruined the effect with a smile, "perhaps that shall be your next adventure, sir: removing red wine stains from a white carpet."

Baye grimaced, "I thought Jace was the one who regularly accomplishes the impossible."

Jared smiled wickedly, "I'll keep that in mind."

They left the back room, ghosted through the cellblock, and then ascended the stairs back to the castle proper. As Vayel exited the dungeons, he froze and gasped, "Anne?!"

A young woman stood in the corridor, her eyes wide with surprise and joy as she studied the boy before her, a quizzical smile graced her lips as she said, "I thought never to see you again and here you are running about in a servant's livery?"

Jared gave the boy a knowing smile, "set your friend's heart at ease and find me when you are finished."

The boy bobbed an awkward bow as the elder Shadows meandered off and then turned to face his companion, said he, his face growing warm, "perhaps we should find a place to talk?" She nodded, giving him that smug, knowing smile that had always infuriated and bewitched him all at the same time, and taking his hand, she led him off to the wide, walled in lawn that abutted the courtyard, where they might sit at leisure under the great trees and chat as they would.

Once they were settled, she said demurely, "I followed you. My father has continuously urged me to come to Astoria to study, so I thought this an opportune time to heed him."

Vayel frowned, "he only wanted you to do that so we'd be away from one another, in hopes I'd fall for your eldest sister."

She smiled impishly, "I didn't exactly ask his permission before leaving but rather left a hasty note and hied myself hither as quickly as I could. I arrived just after you did, but was detained at the gate while you were taken immediately to the Lady. The next thing I saw was you accompanying those men through that door. What happened? Now here you are, guised as a servant of all things!"

Vayel smiled sheepishly, "it is a long and strange story," he frowned, "and much of it I cannot tell you, nor would you believe it if I could." He sadly met her gaze, "we cannot be as we once were."

She studied her hands resting in her lap for a moment and then looked up, "I know, I spent the journey here resigning myself to that fact. I was horrified when your uncle...but never mind, I was heartened when you asked that the Lady review your case and followed you here. But even if the Lady has decried you innocent, you can never return and claim the crown, for the people will never accept you after what your uncle said nor is the Regent likely to give up the crown now that he has it. But why become a servant? Rather, why not study what you must and then join the Brethren?"

Vayel smiled warmly at her, "things are rather complicated, Anne, but do not fear that I have made this choice solely out of desperation, I know you don't understand, but I am content with my circumstances, nay rather I am quite eager to see what the future holds." He sobered, "but we cannot leave Adora in the hands of my uncle, he is a murderer and a warlock."

She smiled wryly, "the very things he accused you of being. But who will assume the crown?"

Vayel sighed deeply, "Flinn, at least if we can convince him to do something useful with his life."

Anne giggled at this, "he is not a bad fellow, but getting out of bed in the morning is the most he has ever learned about duty and responsibility."

Vayel said in a conspiratorial whisper, "do you want to help me subvert him?"

She clapped her hands together and said eagerly, "I would love nothing more. Can it be done?"

Vayel smiled scandalously, "he has to make that decision himself, but we'll do everything in our power to encourage him to do just that."

Baye and Jared returned promptly to the Lady's main audience chamber, but she was not there, rather she had withdrawn to a small sitting room where she stood staring out the window, leaning heavily upon the sill. She drew away from the window and turned to face them as they entered, said she heavily, "it is done then?"

Jared smiled, "yes and no." She frowned at him and he clarified, "the boy is a Shadow, Lady, you did not send him to an untimely death, in fact, he still walks the keep in his original likeness." She actually gaped at him, and he shook his head, "why was it necessary? Even I do not know the answer to that, but it was and perhaps time will reveal the reason."

She nodded slowly, feeling as if a great weight had been taken from her shoulders, said she with irony strong in her voice, "now what are your orders pertaining to this particular lad, Captain?"

Sample story from 'Legends of the Brethren:'

### Of Poets and Heroes

The screams of horses and men filled the evening air with a chaos and horror ill-suited to the loveliness and quiet of the fading day. Two of the beasts faded away as they fell dead and the third trapped his master beneath his prone form. The trapped rider was himself uninjured save perhaps in the fall but several arrows had embedded themselves in his two companions and their fallen mounts; of the two, one lay unmoving and was likely dead, the other moved feebly but hope dawned as he caught the trapped man's eye. They stared at one another for a moment, the one with growing hope and the other with a rising fear. The crunch of oncoming feet suddenly drew their attention as their foes approached. His eyes pleading for help, the arrow stricken man suddenly threw some small object into the distant brush and glanced significantly from the now hidden object to his trapped companion whose eyes held reluctance and fear, but a minimal nod of his head brought the shadow of a smile to the stricken man's face before their enemies were upon them. A small band of vile looking men emerged from their ambush and looked about in delight at the carnage they had wrought. One of them turned over the unmoving man to reveal that nothing remained but a corpse.

Another approached the hopeful man and called out, "this one's alive and should suit our purposes well enough. Be done with him." One of the more vile of the company smiled in cruel anticipation, drew his sword as he approached, and finished that which the arrows had begun. His eyes widened momentarily in pain and then stared blankly as the sword was withdrawn from his unmoving chest. The whole group of them then approached the sole survivor yet trapped beneath his dead horse.

Said the leader of the repulsive band, "are you one of the Brethren then?"

The trapped man laughed mirthlessly, "I am simply an ill-fated poet who hoped to write the tale of some great heroic effort but alas, all I shall ever write is a lament to the foolishness of heroic quests if ever I write anything again."

"Yes or no," snarled the leader.

The poet winced at his tone and said, "I am not one of that fellowship."

The man grinned cruelly and asked, "then why do you ride with them?"

Taking on a professional air the poet said, "as I have already related I hoped to write a firsthand account of whatever adventure my late companions hoped to accomplish. I fell in with them not quite a week ago."

"You know nothing of their mission?" queried the leader in some amazement.

The poet sighed, "I only knew they were bound for Kyra on some desperate quest; I do not think even they knew their appointed task but hoped to find some contact upon our arrival."

The sinister man said, "how were they to make contact?"

The poet shrugged, "they took that secret to the grave."

The leader did not seem pleased, "then I have no further use for you." The poet nodded grimly as the sword was raised again but the leader suddenly laughed, "I however like the idea of a lament against all for which the Brethren stand. I will spare your life poet but only for the promise of your work. Write well, for if you do not it might well be the last thing you do. Search them and their luggage, then we ride for Kyra." The despots ransacked the living and the dead, but found nothing of interest. They vanished as quickly as they had come, leaving the trapped poet to somehow extract himself from beneath the dead horse. He painfully managed to pull himself from beneath his ill-fated mount, searched the vegetation concealing whatever it was his companion had hoped to hide, and finally discovered a small blue crystal cut in the shape of a star suspended from a satin ribbon of deepest blue. He looked over the trinket and wondered to whom it might belong and how he was to discover its keeper and his destiny.

He sighed, he was no hero. He sat heavily down upon the dead horse thinking about what had transpired in the last week to so utterly upset the course of his life. He had been a wandering poet who roamed from place to place and entertained as he could to keep his stomach full and a roof over his head. The commonfolk seemed to appreciate his efforts, at least enough that he did not starve. A week gone, the two adventurers had stumbled into the same inn where he was holding forth with his familiar evening oratory. They had listened appreciatively and once the night's entertainment was finished, invited him over to their table for a mug of ale and some much needed conversation. They had struck up a lively conversation, all three being of a quick and learned mind, and had stayed up long past the time all sensible men were in bed. He had asked after their own travels and their tales amused and amazed him. Whether it was the late hour or the wine, the poet never knew but he soon found himself asking if he might not accompany them on their adventure. They exchanged a curious look and finally agreed that he could come, but that there might come a time when they might suddenly have to part company. There was some hint of imminent danger and intrigue, but then no story was complete without such so the poet readily agreed.

So it was that he found himself riding with them to the Southern Realms towards the kingdom of Kyra whose monarchy was suddenly in disarray and from whence had come a desperate note and the trinket that he now held in his hand. No one knew who had sent it, but only that it must be presented to the guards at the castle gates in the great city of Yorka. The owner claimed that the very fate of the country might rest upon this quest and help was needed soon. Kipril shuddered, wondering what strange adventure he had now become a participant in. He looked upon his dead companions and his silent promise to the dying man echoed in his mind. He had ever been an observer of life, a recorder of its wonders and perils, never a participant and now it had been thrust upon him. He was ill-suited to such an adventure not having wielded a sword since his youth and then only poorly, but there was no one else to whom this adventure could fall. He must at least attempt it, if only for the sake of the imperiled people of Kyra. He sighed heavily, stood, and began to salvage what he could from the wreckage. He filled his saddlebags with food and supplies, took up his bow, and then glanced at his fallen companion's sword. He was perhaps not as skilled with the weapon as some, but it might be useful in his quest. Almost reverently, he took up the weapon for which his companion had no more mortal use. In the gathering dark, he took the road and hoped to put many miles between himself and the sorrow behind him.

Kipril awoke early and crawled from the small dell in which he had taken shelter for the night. He walked as fast and as far as he could that day, knowing full well that his quest was a hopeless one unless he soon acquired some swifter form of transportation. Evening was falling and the lights of an inn ahead drew his weary gaze. He felt that hope waited within, even if it were nothing more than an hour's repose from the weary and lonely road he walked. He took a seat, ordered a mug of a nameless brew, and glanced about at his fellow patrons. He saw nothing but farmers and merchants until his eyes fell upon a young woman just entering the inn. She was well dressed and moved like a cat, making him wonder if she were not some minor noble's daughter set out in search of adventure. Perhaps here was a chance to fob this foolish quest off upon someone else. She caught his gaze and curiosity drew her to the stranger's table. He bought her a mug of his own nameless ale and she asked, "whither is your road sir and what quest lays at its end?"

He laughed in spite of himself and said, "it seems I am not the only lonely adventurer upon the road. I am currently walking to Kyra as my mount and companions have fallen upon the way but I shall not make it in time at the pace I currently set. What of you fair lady?"

She smiled at his words and said, "I too am upon a noble quest though perhaps one far less dire. I ride for fabled Astoria and seek there to join the Brethren. Are you perhaps one of those storied knights who has ridden forth in noble pursuit?"

Kipril could not help but laugh, "lady, I am simply a wandering poet that has had unwanted adventure thrust upon him for there is none else to carry on the task which my late companions had begun. They were of that noble calling but alas they have fallen by the way."

She smiled curiously and said, "then at least your quest is a vital one and perhaps your heart nobler than you know. Perhaps I can aid those I hope to be my benefactors ere I ride to their country. If walking is too slow a pace, then let me lend you a horse upon the way."

Kipril smiled gratefully and said, "that would be a great ease to my journey but I am still unworthy of this task. I have a borrowed sword but little skill with it. Could I beg your aid as well for I see you are not yourself unarmed?"

She smiled gaily at him and said, "I was afraid you would turn me away for I am a woman, but I shall joyfully aid your task. What is it we must do?"

Kipril laughed, "I know almost as little as you but I shall gladly accept your company. I have only a token to show at the gates of the castle and there our adventure may perhaps begin."

Alia soon told her story of how her father, a minor noble, had given her the choice of a loveless marriage or taking her small inheritance and forever leaving his presence. She would not doom herself to such a grim fate and thus took her pittance and left behind all that she knew and loved. She had heard many strange tales of the Brethren in her youth and set out in search of the mysterious adventurers of song and story. She was eager to take part in a story of her own, even before ever she reached Astoria.

By common agreement they were saddled and upon the road ere the sun was up and it was not many days before their hurried pace brought them within the borders of Kyra and soon to the castle in the midst of the bustling city of Yorka. Kipril left Alia at an inn in the city that he might approach the gates alone. If he should not return, she was to make her own careful inquiries and if he discovered the nature of their adventure, he would swiftly return to tell the tale. Both knew well the cost of this errand might well be their lives, but Kipril pressed on out of duty and Alia in hopes of righting some wrong. The streets of Yorka were abuzz with the recent demise of the King in a hunting accident, the ascension of his brother to the throne, and the impending birth of the late King's child and hoped for heir. What part the dark men would play in the matter was yet to be seen. Kipril approached the castle gates and proffered the charm to the guards posted there. They eyed the trinket with some curiosity but could not decide if the man was trying to sell it or simply asking after its owner.

A servant stationed nearby however gasped and said, "this man must immediately accompany me." The guards glanced in wonder at the man who had silently stood watch for so many days and now finally spoke. They nodded grudgingly, but this was a personal servant to the Queen and not to be questioned nor gainsaid. They let the man pass and the servant led him deep into the castle to the private chambers whence the Queen had withdrawn to mourn her husband and await the birth of her child. It was she that had sent the urgent message and who now desperately awaited its answer.

Kipril was amazed to be presented before so distinguished a personage and was speechless for a moment as he made his bows. She smiled deeply and a glint of hope shone in her troubled eyes as she said, "so the Lady has sent my savior at last."

Kipril blushed crimson and studied his feet saying, "I am no hero lady but a simple wanderer who has taken up a quest whose true heroes have already fallen in its course. I will do what I can, but I am no warrior but a poet."

She nodded sadly and said, "then to you my brave poet will the duty fall. This then is my plea: if a male child should be born, to Astoria you must bear the infant in safety and secrecy, there to await the day when he can challenge his uncle for the throne of Kyra. For only a man can sit upon Kyra's throne and this child is the only one with a rightful claim save my brother-in-law who has already taken the title of King upon himself. He was ever jealous of my husband and his demise was no accident though such is claimed, and if an heir should be born my son will not live long past his birth. But should a girl child be born, she is no threat to his rule and we may depart in peace to my family's estates and he is forever free to rule Kyra as he sees fit."

"When is the child due?" asked Kipril awkwardly.

She smiled and said, "any day. I had hoped for your arrival sooner due to the legendary swiftness of unicorns but alas your mounts are mortal horses." As if in answer to his question a wince of pain crossed her face as she said, "perhaps even today!" The Queen winced again as she said, "I think that you arrived only just in time. Tonight will reveal whether your quest is a vain one."

Her ladies escorted her to her chambers, the midwife was fetched, and Kipril was left in the sitting room with a silent servant. The night passed slowly and only occasional sounds of pain and frustration came from the adjoining room to break the silent vigil. Finally the unmistakable cry of an infant was heard and not long after it was repeated. The midwife rushed out all in a flutter and beckoned in the man who had waited so long; the Queen wished to see him without delay. He made a rather flustered bow and she smiled tiredly at his discomfiture. She said, "twins!" He looked at her in anticipation as she continued, "a boy and a girl, of course the boy's birth shall remain an absolute secret and you shall bear him to safety until the appointed time. Are you ready to ride?"

He said, "I need only fetch my confederate and my luggage from a nearby inn and then we shall leave at once."

"Confederate?" asked the Queen.

Kipril said, "a young woman I met by chance upon the way who was on her way to Astoria and agreed to this slight detour."

The Queen smiled, "excellent, a man traveling with an infant would arouse suspicion. I do not think your encounter chance young man. Why did she not accompany you?"

Kipril said, "this mad adventure has already cost two men their lives. I was concerned about pursuit and did not want both of us to fall afoul of some unknown foe ere we knew our errand. She remained behind in case something happened to me."

The Queen said, "you have acted wisely. Return to your inn, pack your things, and come to the small gate the servant shall show you as quickly as you can. Haste will ensure secrecy."

He bowed again, met the servant in the adjoining room, and followed him on a twisting path out of the castle. They emerged in a dark alley and the small door shut silently behind Kipril as he dashed off in search of his inn. He had just stepped out into the main street abutting the alley when he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen. He clutched at the wound as his knees buckled and he fell to the ground in agony; the air was filled with strangely familiar and sinister laughter. The dark voice said, "I told you to leave well enough alone boy! This is the price of meddling in business not your own. Who did you meet within the castle and to what purpose?"

"That I shall never tell," groaned the stricken man.

"We shall see," snarled the sinister voice as the man dashed off to investigate where the meddler had been.

Kipril struggled to his feet, holding his hand to his wounded side; he dashed off in a stumbling run towards the inn. Alia gasped when she saw who the ashen faced man was who nearly fainted as he entered the door of the inn. She had been speaking quietly with a man in the uniform of the Brethren. Both ran to aid the injured man on the verge of collapse. "What happened?" she gasped.

Kipril glanced about nervously, "we must talk quickly and privately. There is no time." They wasted no time in helping him to sit on the edge of the bed in one of the guest rooms. Once they were alone he said, "as you know there are rumors about that the late King was murdered by his brother who made it look like a hunting accident. The Queen was concerned for the safety of her unborn child, should it be a boy and potential heir to the throne. If the child was a male, she wished one of the Brethren to carry him safely to Astoria to wait until he came of age to challenge his uncle for the throne. The Queen gave birth tonight to twins, a boy and a girl. She will withdraw quietly to her estates with the girl and waits for us to bear her son to safety. Alia, you must meet the servant at a small side gate and take the infant to Astoria."

"What about you?" whispered she.

Kipril drew back his tunic from the wound and said grimly, "I am in no condition to travel nor do I think I shall long survive this wound. One of the men who ambushed my late companions fell upon me as I was leaving the castle. He must have seen me go in and waited for me to come out. He attacked me, questioned me, and then ran off to see what I would not tell him. He will be on the watch so you must be careful."

The Brother spoke for the first time, "these are grim tidings indeed. I am the Lady's Advisor to the King, or I was until the new King banished me from the castle, save for court functions, which is why I now haunt this inn. The child must reach safety at all costs. Take my mount, he will bear you swiftly and safely to Astoria."

Alia's eyes were wide, "me ride a unicorn?"

The man nodded grimly, "I cannot accompany you for I am needed here and neither is your friend in any condition for such an adventure. It must be you. Go, and may the Master ride with you." She nodded grimly, bid farewell to her companions, and dashed from the room.

"Will she make it do you think?" asked Kipril of the other man. He only shook his head in wonder and helped make the stricken man as comfortable as he could.

Alia rode swiftly towards the small gate, astonished at the speed and silence of her mount. He was reluctant to so abandon his master but he knew this task was of the utmost importance. They arrived swiftly and nearly unseen for the unicorn had draped himself in darkness. Alia knocked upon the gate, it was opened by a cautious servant, she showed the crystal star as instructed, and soon received the child into her keeping along with those things that might prove his identity at the proper time. They dashed off together into the night bound for Astoria. Not far out of the city, the unicorn stopped and whinnied in fear but his master bid him run all the harder and he could not disobey. Some time after he screamed in rage and grief but continued on his course, faithful to his master's last command.

The dark man left his injured foe and ran off into the darkness to see from whence he had come. He could not yet gain access to the castle and could learn nothing more upon a second investigation. He dashed back to find his nemesis fled and followed quickly after. Not long after the girl had left, the dark man burst through the window of the room in which his quarry lay helpless upon the bed. He had not expected to find one of the Brethren within, but all the better. The two men whirled about in a dance of death and steel while Kipril watched wide-eyed from the bed. The two were fairly evenly matched and it was hard to tell who had the upper hand. The dark man snarled in glee as he clipped his opponent on the shoulder and knew his victory was assured, but in his moment of triumph he dropped his guard for a brief second allowing his foe to strike a mortal blow. The man fell to the floor laughing through his pain and panted, "you think you have won but neither of you will long survive me." He coughed a few times before succumbing to his wounds and then dissolved into an oily puddle on the floor.

The two survivors shared an astonished look and the Brother leant heavily upon the bedpost, clutching his injured shoulder and breathing heavily. Kipril asked in growing concern, "what is wrong? What did he mean you would not survive?"

The man said quietly through teeth clenched in pain, "I think there was some vile taint upon that blade of his and that it is quickly killing me. I doubt you will long survive me. That being the case, have you thought about what lies beyond death?"

Kipril stared at the man in astonishment, "you are nearer death than I and you want to talk philosophy?"

The man winced as he laughed and said, "I have no such worries but you might spend all eternity ruing these last few hours."

Kipril frowned, "you Brethren are all fanatics on this topic. I suppose if this Master of yours does exist then I have naught to fear. I have lived a good life, or as good as any man could in my circumstances. Besides, I have gotten myself killed on his behalf, for which I think he owes me much."

The dying man's breathing was ragged and darkness was ever on the brink of overcoming him, but he fought against it saying, "with an attitude like that you are sure to spend an eternity apart from the Master and thus in utter darkness and despair. The Master is no man with whom you can bargain in the market place. He owes mortal man nothing. We are all rebels against his perfect way and we all justly deserve condemnation. Our best efforts are nothing to him. What can any mortal do that could impress or indebt the One who made us."

"Then we are all doomed?" asked the skeptical Kipril.

The man was fading fast but said, "the price of rebellion is death, but the Master took that penalty upon himself to spare us if only we will accept his sacrifice on our behalf. He need not have known death, but he suffered death for us."

"What must I do?" asked the stunned Kipril.

With his last breath the man said, "believe, trust, and give yourself utterly to him." He toppled over and moved no more, leaving Kipril alone to contemplate eternity.

These Brethren were mad, absolutely mad! He had now seen three of them die for no good cause. Could they be right? In all the excitement he had forgotten about his own wound and now remembrance came crashing agonizingly back to the front of his mind. He was deathly weak and each breath became more and more a struggle. He glanced desperately at the dead man and idly wondered how long before he himself was naught but a corpse. His mind returned to those uneasy things of which the dying man had spoken. All his life he had heard the tales of the Master but had never felt inclined to think of them as more than just stories. What if there was something beyond humanity? Beyond death? It certainly made sense but how to know what was truly out there? He glanced again at the dead man and remembered how certain he had been even to the point of being able to proselytize upon the brink of death. Worse, his own heart seemed to tell him that here was the truth he had ignored all these years. His mind protested not wanting to admit that up until this moment perhaps his life truly had been lived in vain. The weariness deepened and darkness gnawed at the corners of his vision; the maw of eternity gaped before him and yet he wanted to protest, drag his feet, and hesitate.

Finally, the moments running out, he gasped, "I do not know you but I know I need you. Forgive my rebellion, my ignorance, and my hesitation. I have nothing to offer, but I am yours to use as you will."

A voice like echoed thunder said quietly beside him, "I certainly shall."

Alia rode swiftly to Astoria, her heart near to breaking for her fallen companions. The infant traveled well for one so new to the world and she wondered what hope rested upon the shoulders of one so small and innocent. The unicorn revealed his true form as they ran through the streets of Astoria that none might bar their way. The guards upon the castle gates watched curiously but allowed the strange woman to pass unhindered. It was not often that one not of the Brethren ever rode upon the back of so legendary a creature. They gaped even more to see the stranger clutching a very young child to her breast. She slid from the saddle and glanced about in near desperation, "I must see your Lady immediately concerning happenings in Kyra."

A servant ran immediately to ask after the Lady's availability and returned swiftly to lead the strange young woman to stand before their legendary leader. Alia told her story and presented the child and his accessories to the astonished Lady who replied, "these are certainly tragic tidings and we shall tend to the child as his mother wishes. Now what of you my dear? You who have traveled so far and risked so much; what is your part in this tale?" The infant was given into the care of a childless woman and her husband who were delighted to have such a charge. Alia was finally able to realize her goal of joining the Brethren.

The years passed and the child grew into a boy verging on manhood. For ten years, he grew up quietly at home thinking no more of himself than any other peasant's son. At ten years of age he was allowed to go to Astoria to further his education with the renowned knowledge and teaching skills of the Brethren. At fifteen, he was convinced he wanted to become one of them. He stood before the Lady that day, nervous but hopeful to have his request granted. She looked at him quietly for a few moments and a small sadness seemed to flit through her eyes for a moment but was soon replaced with dead seriousness. She said, "Ian, I cannot grant that which you ask."

He gaped and without thinking asked, "what have I done or not done that you will not allow me to join you?"

She smiled and said gently, "it is nothing of your doing but concerns a greater duty you must first fulfill." He looked at her in absolute confusion as she continued, "as you are well aware, the Brethren cannot rule even a city, let alone a country save perhaps the Lady of Astoria. You cannot take your Oath because you are the rightful heir to the throne of Kyra and the time has come for you to journey thither and claim your birthright." He looked at her as if she had gone mad.

She continued, "your father, the former King of Kyra was killed upon a hunting foray and many suspect his brother in the crime. Your uncle now rules Kyra with an iron fist and oppresses your people severely. Your father died before your birth and your mother feared for your life so sent you hence that you might grow up in safety. Your twin sister and mother yet reside upon your family estates in Kyra. Nothing is known to anyone outside the Brethren and a few faithful servants of your existence. My hope, and the hope of all Kyra, is that you return to the land of your birth and claim the throne that is rightfully yours and rule your people more justly than their current King. This is why I must deny you the Oath."

He gaped at her and finally said, "I understand and know I must take this quest upon myself if only for the sake of the suffering Kyrans, but how am I, a mere boy to challenge a King?"

The Lady smiled warmly, "I will send several of the Brethren with you along with certain proofs of your valid claim to the throne. You must know this is a very dangerous quest; four men and two unicorns have already died in the events surrounding your birth. The King has many dangerous servants and advisors who will aid him in thwarting your efforts at all costs."

Ian bowed deeply and said, "it is a risk I must take. What if I fail?"

The Lady smiled, "short of death I do not think you shall fail."

He smiled weakly, "my only regret is not being able to serve you as one of the Brethren."

She smiled warmly and said, "if you survive this ordeal and still have the interest in sixty years or so after you have passed your reign onto your children, I see no reason why you cannot yet join the Brethren." He smiled deeply at her sincerity and wondered if his zeal could be so strong as to last six decades.

Alia and three others were dispatched to accompany the aspiring prince to Kyra. He carried with him a letter written by his mother and sealed with the royal signet ring, the crystal star charm, and his late father's sword. It was early autumn and the weather was perfect for travel; the party made excellent progress and was soon nearing the borders of Kyra. It was at this point in their travels that Ian felt the adventure was about to begin; until now, he had been in a blissful half-dream but now was not the time for childish fancies when the fate of a nation rested upon his very inadequate shoulders. It was late afternoon and the sun had set all the world afire in shades of richest gold when a lone traveler approached the party upon the road. He drew rein and waited patiently for the party to approach.

One of the men asked as they drew nigh, "why do you bar our way stranger."

The stranger suppressed a smile of secret amusement and said, "I do not bar your path but simply wish to join your party. I have come to aid you in your endeavors."

The Brother laughed, "and what could you know of our errand?"

The stranger replied, "I have come to see finished the errand I began fifteen years ago."

"And what errand would that be stranger?" asked the Brother cautiously.

The man smiled sheepishly and said, "to see a proper King restored to Kyra."

"What part did you play in that sad tale," asked the Brother in confusion, "I thought there were none living, save those in our party, to finish what was begun so long ago."

"Alia can testify to my involvement," said the man strangely.

All the while, Alia had been staring at the stranger in astonishment and could not quite believe her eyes. With his statement she said in doubt and horror, "Kipril? Is it truly you? I thought you long dead! What became of the Advisor to the King, his mount certainly felt him die."

Kipril glanced towards the ground and then ruefully met her astonished gaze, "you know me for truly myself. Not long after you left, my attacker came to finish me only to find me not alone. They fought, the sinister man was killed, and my valiant protector did not long survive him. I was on the brink of death when I finally realized sense and surrendered my life, failing as it was, to the Master. The Master himself was in that room and took me at my word. He healed my wound and set me immediately upon this task. To you it has been fifteen years; to me it has been only a few minutes! I do not know what shall become of me once all is ended. I may perhaps live on for years or I might fall to dust the moment the King is crowned. At least my life will not have been lived completely in vain."

The little company stared at him in astonishment, but the Brethren knew he spoke truly no matter how hard it was to believe. Alia smiled at her long lost friend and said, "then welcome back my friend. What counsel can you give us about matters in Kyra?"

Kipril said, "as you know, the King is a vile tyrant and sorely tries his people. What you may not know is that the men behind the deaths of three of your comrades fifteen years ago secretly aid and advise the King. The Queen and her daughter still live quietly in the country but the King has his eye on the girl as a prospective bride for his own son and heir. I suggest we break into two parties. Alia, the boy, and I shall ride to the former Queen's estates and the rest of you shall ride to Yorka and assess the situation there. We shall meet you as soon as we have apprised the Queen of her son's return." The others quickly agreed and they set off immediately for their assigned destinations.

As Alia and her companions made camp that night, Ian asked, "how can this be?"

Alia laughed, "how can you have spent so many years among the Brethren and not believe in miracles?"

Ian smiled ruefully, "I suppose I do but I thought they only ever happened to other people. The Master truly does work in wonderful and mysterious ways!"

They rode on, avoided the patrols once they crossed into Kyra, and soon found themselves upon the Queen's estates. Alia presented the star trinket to the guards at the great gates before the ancient house and a servant was quickly sent to inquire after the Queen. The astonished servant quickly returned and ushered the strangers into his lady's presence. All three bowed and the aging woman stared in wonder and joy at her long sundered son. Finally each found the courage to embrace and a quick round of wondering questions and excited chatter followed.

After Ian met his sister and mother and all their curiosity and joy had momentarily been satisfied Alia asked, "how go things in Kyra? Are they as bad as we have heard? Any idea how the boy is to retake the throne?"

The queen said, "things are bad enough, especially for the commoners. In usual circumstances, Ian would present himself to the royal lawyers who would then decide whether he was the legal heir to the throne, but these are far from usual circumstances. I fear his uncle will kill him regardless."

Kipril said, "I think secrecy will not avail us. Let us present ourselves before the entire court that a knife in the dark will not end all their worries. With enough witnesses perhaps the King will step down as he rightfully should. If he will not, then we will do what we must. He may challenge you to a duel for the crown and I am sure there will be treachery in the mix."

Ian said firmly, "I will do what I must."

They all agreed to the sketchy plan and the three set off at once with the Queen to follow after with the intent of attending court on the following evening when Ian would make his claims. They reached Yorka the following morning and met with the three that had gone ahead who agreed completely with their suppositions. The Brethren could not take the throne by force, but neither could the current King legally deny the claims of his nephew. His only recourse would be to have the upstart murdered, a dangerous task since all the city would soon know of the challenge to his throne or to challenge him to and best him in a duel.

The servants of evil had not been lax these many years either. They had a spy in the midst of the Queen's servants and the moment he saw the star trinket he knew the game was afoot. He made his way to the city and swiftly reported his suspicions to his dark masters. So it was when the young renegade came to make his claims, the King and his sinister advisors were not taken unawares. They could have barred the youth an audience but then he would have made a scene in the street. He was too well protected to be silently murdered and it would be good to show the court exactly how such rebels were dealt with. The King actually looked forward to the confrontation and his associates would make sure that he was the victor. As expected, he made his appearance at court the following evening.

There was much gossip amongst the bystanders as the King had allowed word of the imposter to be spread abroad. Alia, Kipril, and his mother accompanied him to stand before the King; the rest of the Brethren spread out to make sure no ambush was imminent. Ian said in a voice for all to hear, "I hereby lay claim to the throne of Kyra held unjustly these fifteen years by the murderer of my father."

The King laughed, "have you any proof boy that I killed your father or that you are even the late King's son?"

Ian stood his ground and said, "I have no proof you murdered my father save the certainty in my heart. But I have ample proof I am the son of the late King." He proffered his proofs and the royal lawyers examined the documents and artifacts for authenticity.

The King said, "I thought this woman bore a girl child."

The former Queen spoke, "I gave birth to twins that night. The boy was safely hidden until he was of an age to claim his birthright."

The King scoffed, "a likely story, you simply found a youth of the correct age and indoctrinated him."

Alia spoke, "nay Sire, it was I that bore this very child to Astoria fifteen years ago. Know by the Oath that it is true."

The King looked to the lawyers, "well?"

They nodded grimly, "the artifacts and proofs seem to be quite real. Can anyone bear testimony to the Queen's story?"

An aged woman emerged from the crowd and the ancient midwife said, "she speaks truly. I was there when she gave birth and delivered a boy and a girl that night."

"Very well," said the King in much glee, "who is to say that you are the legal heir to the throne? Why must I vacate that which is lawfully mine?"

Alia spoke, "Kyran law states that in the presence of an immature heir, a Steward may be appointed until the boy is of age at which point he will assume the throne. Your reign is legally at an end. You are also accused of gaining the throne through treacherous means which would also nullify your right to reign."

"You have no proof," snarled the King, "and I will not relinquish the throne to this no name upstart. If he wants the throne he must step over my dead body to gain it; I challenge him to a duel."

Ian looked concerned, "must I fight him?"

The royal lawyers looked grim, "under these circumstances it would violate all our customs not to. You have no legal requirements as such, but the people would not respect you if you declined. I also think your uncle would prove a dangerous enemy were he allowed to live."

The King gave him a dangerous look and the lawyer replied, "I was only stating the obvious Sire, no insult was meant on your behalf."

The King glared at his nephew, "well?"

The boy drew his sword in answer, the audience drew back to give them room to fight, and the King grinned as he drew his own blade and approached the boy. The lawyer intoned in a dreary voice for what seemed a decade the various rules before allowing the combatants to bow and face one another. The boy was young but skilled, the old man experienced but out of practice. They whirled about in a deadly dance while the dark aides of the King drew their own weapons to aid the King by treachery should such be necessary. The Brethren held their own swords at the ready seeing what the sinister men intended. It was the stamina of the younger man that won the day as his weary uncle knelt before him with chest heaving wildly for air. He mocked between breathes, "finish me boy or they shall think you too weak to rule."

The boy shook his head, "no, you shall stand trial for my father's murder. I will not make you a martyr or give you the honor of a swift death."

At that moment, the sinister men in the crowd made to fall upon the boy but were met by an equal number of the Brethren. The King seeing his future looking bleak and his treacherous friends fighting for their lives, lunged forward with sword drawn upon the distracted boy. The blade buried itself deeply in Kipril's chest as he leapt between Ian and his murderous uncle. Seeing his own doom near to hand, the vile King took his own life rather than losing it justly to the headsman. His vile henchmen did likewise rather than reveal their sinister allegiance.

The court was in uproar and confusion until the Brethren and heir apparent finally managed to calm them. No one understood why the dark men had dissolved into an oily puddle of goo upon death but the matter was soon forgotten as the lawyers proclaimed Ian the rightful heir to the throne now that his uncle was most certainly dead. Some of the more treacherous nobles made to sneak out but the Brethren barred their way until the new King could deal with them justly.

Ian stared down in dismay at Kipril's shattered form, "I should be the one lying dead."

Alia put a reassuring hand upon his back and smiled sadly at her fallen friend, "he was already assumed dead in your service Sire; it just happened a little later than we all thought. He knew well his duty and carried it out faithfully. We can all only hope to die so nobly. We will mourn a little, but grief should not be our constant companion, for we shall meet again beyond time if we remain faithful until the end ourselves." The King was crowned and ruled his people justly for many years and once his own son was well established upon the throne, Ian quietly vanished and only his nearest kin and the Brethren knew what became of him after. The poet who thought himself no hero lived on in song and story long after Kyra itself had passed out of memory.

In Which Miss Iris Misses Tea

Excerpt from 'Of Tea... and Things'

There she stood in her second best dress on the front steps of her husband's marvelous and imposing townhouse, clutching the most disreputable portmanteau in the staff's possession, or at least the most scandalous specimen that could be procured on short notice. She would not even have been allowed to keep the dress, had it not been considered quite improper to allow her back inside to change into something less grand. She had never imagined when she had stepped out that morning to make a call upon a certain influential social matron that she would be facing such a crisis upon her return, had she known that to be the case, she at least would have worn her Best Dress, a scandal in its own right certainly, but one easily overlooked in the even deeper scandal that had washed over her with all the rage and suddenness of a tsunami. Of course she had never worn the Best Dress, no one did, not unless the Queen herself happened to stop by unannounced for tea! Her current surprise was no less had that been the shock awaiting her but it was certainly far less pleasant, or so she assumed, never having had tea with Her Majesty, she could not be quite certain, but she thought it was at least probable.

She tried to plead again with the dour faced butler but he only shook his head grimly and pointed harshly down the road, as if she were naught but a beggar woman squatting upon the doorstep rather than his mistress of a decade. Former mistress it seemed. Said the appalled housekeeper, from behind the grim brute of a butler who seemed suddenly all brawny shoulders, a feature she had never before paid much heed, "move along miss, it would not do to make a scene."

With a final sigh, her shoulders slumping and her elegant train trailing dejectedly after her, Iris descended the proud and fashionable steps, wondering what the society papers would say on the morrow and how many hidden eyes were watching from behind seemingly vacant windows. There was no sense arguing, it was just the way things were. She had forgotten, well she knew this day might come, but she had hoped something would happen to spare her such an ignomious fate, that her husband's fondness for her would somehow protect her, that he might forget, but it seemed that he had not and no amount of love, however inordinate, could make up for the indignity she had caused him, the insult was unforgivable and imperiling his family line as she had was perhaps the greatest indignity of all, if not a crime in and of itself.

'Miss,' the word haunted her, she who had only that morning stepped out as Mrs. Iris Andromeda Baren Candor Donaldo Eveleff Garand Hatt Indigo...Zebula. Twenty-six surnames, one for each letter of the alphabet, outlining her husband's extensive, impressive, and most ancient lineage, but now she was simply 'miss.' She opened the bag hopefully, for perhaps her future lay therein, but there was nothing within, save a few sentimental knickknacks she had brought with her upon her most fortuitous marriage. Once fabulously wealthy, her material worth was now as diminished as her name. She had a few coins about her person, a surplus of lace handkerchiefs, and a fan, but nothing else save the clothes on her back and the hat on her head. Perhaps she could still return home, she doubted it, but it was the only thing she could think of to spare herself from an even less desirable fate.

She raised a hand to hail a cab, a thing no proper lady would do, for that is what one had servants for, so it took no little time to actually attract that attention of a driver and get him to pull his overworked nag over to the side of the pavement whereon her former ladyship stood. They assumed she was having a fit or communicating with some other personage or fainting or something appropriately ladylike, not trying to get the attention of such a loathsome creature as a cabby. But at last someone did dare to thwart all common reason and social propriety and pulled over to see what the perplexing dame was up to, but not before a rather scandalous looking person, who made Iris's skin crawl even at a distance, sidled up to her most knowingly and said in very familiar tones, "there's but one thing for you to do miss, you're still a pretty-ish thing, and don't you worry, we'll be waiting when you finally resign yourself to reality." He winked at her in a most reprehensible fashion and then slouched off rather too smugly for anyone's comfort but his own.

Iris shuddered in revulsion as she climbed into the cab, gave her address, and tried not to think as they rolled off in the direction of her childhood home. She couldn't, absolutely not! But if her parents likewise disowned her, it would be her only option. But no, they wouldn't, they couldn't! But they did. The cab drew up in a very unfashionable part of town and she paid him his fare, all she had left and with nothing extra for his trouble. She couldn't tell if he was angry, scandalized, or seemed to understand her plight, so blank were his face and eyes, the result of a lifetime of carrying to and fro those whose business was none of his. The vehicle rattled off and she prepared to face her parents, hoping against hope that they would not see things as all of society did, that this scandal was none of her own doing, but they undoubtedly would.

Her father was a craftsman, he worked with his hands, and while he made a good living for his large family, such a family was not likely to be the source of a bride for one of society's elite; it just wasn't done. So it was quite the fairy tale to those who knew the family, and quite the scandal to everyone else, when his Lordship had chosen Iris to be his bride. It was the habit of some of the great lords' sons and certain wealthy young bucks to go 'slumming' amid the lower classes as both a form of amusement and a means of temporally escaping the stuffy and inflexible world into which they had been born. They'd don 'rough' clothes and attend a public ball in the less affluent parts of town and dance the night away with many a miller's daughter and tradesman's niece. It was in just such an environment that Iris met her husband, well former husband, and he was so taken with her that he insisted on marrying her.

Many insisted that he would one day rue his choice, mostly those with eligible daughters of their own, and today seemed to be proving them right. She was neither rich nor powerful nor did she know anyone who was, but her family was respectable, if middle class, but most importantly, she came of a large and healthy family. Her mother had been prolific in the production of children and he had no doubt that it was a trait his admired lady would likewise possess. So they were married, much to the delight of everyone who had any care or love for the happiness of those involved, but all others were appalled, most especially his peers and relations. Gradually they got used to the idea and the scandalized talk and impolite remarks vanished into the background as other, more interesting scandals arose to replace them, but they would no doubt spring back to life after today's little affair.

It was exactly ten years and nine months to the day since she wed what she thought was the love of her life, but here she stood outside the door of her childhood home, hoping that her parents would welcome her home once more. But the unemotional maid that answered the door did not look like a bearer of gladsome tidings, said she in a scandalized tone, "please come round to the back, miss, the front door is only for proper visitors."

Ugh! At least they answered the door, perhaps they just wanted to avoid more public scandal, best to keep this affair away from prying eyes in any case. She hustled to the door that opened off a side alley into the kitchens, hoping to find peace at last, but she was merely handed a few table scraps for her trouble and told that the master of the house, though not unkindly, was not prone to humor beggars who repeatedly accosted his servants. Beggar?! But in truth that's what she was, she had dared marry into one of the Great Families, and in failing to uphold her part of the bargain, after the legally prescribed period, she was cast back into the street, and having thus embarrassed herself and all the Greats so thoroughly, her family dared not offer her succor, lest they seem complicit in the eyes of all society in this most unfortunate affair. There were also yet children at home and the presence of such a specter lurking about the house would undoubtedly affect their chances of marrying well, or at all. To them and all society, it was as if she had never been. She wasn't even considered as one dead, one who at least had lived and would be missed, rather she no longer existed and never had.

What was left to her? She considered the filthy and disreputable man who had accosted her, almost as dreadful as her handbag, but she shuddered in disgust, she'd rather starve! Staring down bleakly at her meager handful of scraps, the only legacy her parents would bequeath her, she knew she very well might. But it would be far better to die an honest, though wretched death, than to play the harlot for her bread. But was there no other choice? She sighed heavily as she slunk out of the alley, little heeding where she was going but knowing she could no longer remain where she was, all of her attention was focused inward on the disaster that was now her life.

It wasn't her fault, or so she hoped, she really didn't mean to be barren, she came of fruitful stock on both sides, but in those ten years and nine months, she had never given her husband even the hope of a child. But as far as society saw it, she had deceived him, wasted precious time in which he might have been fathering children, endangered the stability of the family line, for what would happen if he died without leaving children? She did have to smile, in a grim and ironic sort of way, that she had had ten years and nine months, just in case she happened to conceive on the last day of the prescribed ten years, you never could tell, but as she had not produced an heir in the final nine months either, she was unceremoniously cast from her home and society, driven from safety and security like a common thief. And now her only hope was to become a harlot, this too elicited that grimly amused smile, for what safer woman for such a job? There being so slight a chance of producing bastard children and the lady herself being cast out of all decent society, in desperate need of both sustenance and protection.

Better to face the Wilds than suffer such a fate! She stood on the edge of town, her unwitting wanderings having brought her thus, near one of the great gates that opened in the wall surrounding the city and allowed traffic in and out during daylight hours, but which were firmly shut every evening to keep Things out. What Things, she had never rightly heard, it wasn't proper for her young female mind to be apprised of such Things, but rest assured, between the Wall and the Watch, she'd not need to worry about any of them. She just needed to focus on finding a decent husband. Well, that and having a superfluity of children. She had succeeded quite well in the first case but failed abysmally in the second. With a heavy sigh, she marched straight out the gate and into the wide world without and none dared stop her, for though a lady of breeding NEVER left the Walls without a proper escort, it was even more taboo to interfere with such, no matter how improper seemed her intentions.

She had travelled abroad several times with her husband upon various errands and visits, but she had never left town alone and afoot before, certainly not as a girl, for even people of her father's lowly social status had Standards. But she was quite thoroughly disgusted with Standards and for a time relished the odd looks shot her way by the various farmers, tradesmen, and servants that passed her by upon their own errands. She found it quite exhilarating at first, to be thwarting social conventions so thoroughly; cast her out would they?! Well, she might just as well spurn them! She'd leave of her own accord and that was that. The leaving part was easy, it was what was to be done afterwards that terrified her enough that the ratty man's offer didn't seem so bad upon recollection, but she chastised herself as a milk-hearted sniveler and kept marching further away from the only life she had ever known, but just what was she speeding towards?

Things. Oh why oh why would they not tell her about Things?! Not knowing was probably worse than the most horrid truth, then she must resort to making things up and a young girl's imagination could be quite gruesome, likely more so than the actual reality. Well, this was her big chance to find out. And whatever her fate, it couldn't be worse than harlotry, not that she knew much about that either, just enough to encourage her to produce a baby or ten lest it be all her future. She started to cast back within her mind, seeking stories, rumors, gossip, lies, anything she could remember of life outside the city, beyond the town, things her brothers discovered in their studies, overheard snippets of the servants' gossip, gran's fireside tales, the talk amongst her father's friends over their pipes when she was thought long abed.

Of course she had been taught, as all decent and proper young ladies were, about the Old World, and the Ancient Days, of all the horrible and uncouth things that had happened before civilization and decency and Standards, when the world was wild and young and wide, when people were the myth and all sorts of uncouth folk roamed the earth. But all that happened in another age, another time, probably in another place, for nothing very interesting ever happened in or near the city, at least that she had ever heard of, at least not interesting to her, she didn't consider the latest social scandal intriguing in the least, which may be why she never quite fit in to Society, children or not.

As the day began to fade into evening, she allowed herself a brief respite from her introspection to take the lay of the land and consider what might be her best option for the imminent night. The fields and pasturelands and neat little coppice woods that had straddled the road for the entirety of the journey suddenly gave way before her to a wood seemingly as dark and expansive as the night sky that seemed intent upon devouring all that remained of the dying day. The road itself skirted this impressive forest by a wide margin, continuing on its prim and proper way, seemingly contemptuous of the wild and unkempt country that bordered one side. Well, thought she, Society and their Standards have utterly cast me out, why should I tread their roads and prescribed paths any longer? So with a shrug of defiance, she stepped off the smug little road and clove her way into the murky and trackless wood.

The first thing she noticed was that her fashionable garb, though quite suited to the trackless wastes of societal gatherings, was quite a hindrance in actual trackless wastes. The second was that it was quite dark, as if one had foolishly locked oneself inside a wardrobe. Unable any longer to ascertain what was before her, and tripping most inelegantly over some branch or rock, and even uncertain where the edge of the forest now lay, she could do little but sit down and cry, for at last her heart had caught up with her mind, originally numbed by the shock of it all, she had been able to act almost dispassionately, but out here, at last, her sorrow and fears overtook her. Of course proper ladies were not allowed to cry, but as she was no longer of that ilk, she unashamedly wept her little heart out until at last she passed blissfully into unknowing sleep.

"She did what?!" said the astonished, though otherwise thoroughly tidy, man in wonder.

"She vanished into that dratted Wood, sir," said the equally flabbergasted henchman, adding quickly, "I offered her the usual and assumed she'd come begging the moment she discovered just how limited her options were. I never took her for the outdoorsy type."

"If she was just some common trollop," began the distinguished looking man, dressed to the height of current fashion, as he pensively paced the room, "it would be of no matter if she did choose to so lose herself and be set upon by Things. No one would care or notice, but this chit was special! I had a double-sided list as long as my arm of gentlemen callers wanting to make her acquaintance. It is not often such a scandal rocks Society and when it does, our men of Fashion should be able to take advantage of it. She's costing me money, lots of money, and worse, notoriety! Her reputation alone is worth more than five of my most talented ladies combined." He glared at the hapless minion as if this whole fiasco was his fault, "have we no options?"

"You know no one who goes into that Wood ever returns," stuttered the terrified henchman, "at least in a recognizable form."

"True," sighed the dandy, "too true, you should have just kidnapped her outright."

"Knowing what we do now, I would have, but I like to give them the chance to despair first," smiled the lackey wickedly, "it makes their final surrender and despair all the sweeter and seems to even make them grateful to us for saving them from utter ruin."

"Why can't she just be reasonable like every other girl in the realm?" mused the cad in a gentleman's garb.

"There were whispers you know, sir," said the flunky in dubious and hushed tones.

"Yes," slurred that non-gentleman, "and if true, perhaps she would have been a most troublesome acquisition indeed. But was there truly any proof that she did, indeed," he paused cautiously, as if to ensure they were truly alone before continuing in a quieter voice, as he uttered the astonishing word, "read?"

"I managed to speak to several of her former staff, both in her husband's and her father's house, and they agreed that she did in fact do just that," said the sub-villain, not daring even to say the dastardly deed aloud.

"It is not," mused the senior villain, "that a lady cannot be allowed to read, but it is her choice of literature that is of the utmost import. You are certain it was not just flimsy novels and the society papers?"

"Nay milord," said the henchman grimly, "it was books, solid and heavy books, any she could lay hand to, not that it was an easy thing in her social circumstances, but they say she found rather creative ways to go about it, vulgar chit!"

"Does she know something we do not about that forest or Things?" asked he.

"I doubt it sir," said the henchman boldly, "for even the most well read of men knows little of that cursed Wood, and whatever means she used to contrive access to a book, it is very unlikely she would come across anything helpful in that regard when men with ready access to such information know nothing."

"Quite true," said the non-gentleman in growing good humor, "perhaps she would have been quite an encumbrance to own, a pity, but perhaps it is for the best after all."

While Iris could see nothing going on around her, not only because she was sleeping as one dead, but also because that peculiar Wood was draped in an unnatural night, that did not mean things weren't going on. While all the human folk in those parts thought this particular Wood haunted, cursed, forsaken, et cetera, it was really none of those things, for it was always near to bursting with activity of various sorts and tenanted by some of the most upstanding individuals imaginable, though perhaps they did not recognize the Standards as holy writ, which was probably the main argument against calling such folk civilized, they were quite civilized in their own particular way, one which Society might very well have called uncouth, could they ever glimpse such a spectacle of course. But as they couldn't, all were kindly spared that sort of unpleasantness.

"A lady?!" said a very astonished voice, lurking in the shrubbery near where said lady reposed in quite un-Standard fashion.

"Quite," chuckled a second voice in reply.

"Of all the strange and wonderful things one might glimpse in this peculiar Wood," mused the first, "this is one spectacle I never thought to see."

"Anything is possible here," said the second voice in ill-suppressed amusement.

"Anything out of the ordinary," agreed the first, "but such a spectacle is quite ordinary in the outer world."

"But it would be a peculiar scene here and thus one would think it quite possible, along with all the other impossible scenes one might certainly witness herein," continued the second, no longer hiding his mirth.

"I suppose your reasoning must be sound," said the first with a shake of his head, "if not here, then certainly somewhere." He glanced back at the sleeping lady, "but it seems so mundane."

"Again you are stating the obvious, my friend," smiled the second, "please stop!"

"But then what shall we speak of?" quoth the first with a wry grin.

"Now who is the one being mundane?" laughed the second outright.

"True," said the first ruefully, "I sound like some oblivious gentleman at a societal function where we can speak nothing but the blatantly obvious."

"The lady's presence is corrupting you already," said the second in feigned horror, "what will happen to the balance of our acquaintance?"

"Dreadful thought indeed!" agreed the first, but lapsing into sudden silence as the lady in question stirred.

"Who is there?" queried she, trying to sound valiant and unafraid but managing only to sound like a lonely kitten mewing forlornly in a dark alley. Iris glanced about her futilely, all about her hidden in mist and shadow. At least the utter black of night had given way to a twilit world of murky shadow but she was still nearly as blind, not even able to see her feet amidst the brume, but she was quite certain she had been wakened by voices.

The first looked at the second in question, he only shrugged and stepped forward out of the swirling mists, that the lady might know what it was that lurked unseen just beyond sight. She gasped to see that she was not alone in this surreal world, but as she had been anticipating Things, two gentlemen dressed in quality but conservative evening dress were not exactly what she had been expecting, seeing her quickly hidden look of disappointment, the first said to the second, "see, she was thinking to discover something less mundane in this peculiar Wood as well." Upon which, all exchanged Standard greetings, before the first spoke once more, "how come you here madam and may we be of any assistance?"

She fought valiantly but the tears still came, said she through her sobs and hiccups, "I am quite at a loss, gentlemen, for I've been Forsaken by kith and kin, cast out for the most heinous of offenses. I wonder that you would even deign speak with me."

The first man could not suppress a grin, "we don't often get to read the society papers, milady. You will be happy to know that your society's standard is not ours."

She blinked at him as if he had said he routinely employed an ostrich in lieu of a carriage horse, said she in some befuddlement, "what then is your Standard? I know I am Outcast, but if you are equally so, have you not turned bandit or outlaw or something equally uncivilized?"

"Your society certainly would not approve of our various goings on, madam," assured the second, his own grin as wide as his fellow's, "but we are far from lawless men. Indeed, we cling to a standard even higher and older than that to which you refer."

She smiled sadly at these poor benighted men, lost so long in the dark and mist that they must truly have lost all sense of decency and propriety, not to mention physical direction, but then again, it was the Standards that had proclaimed she must be cast from all decent company and protections for an act which was not willfully done and was in nowise her fault and said that her former kith and kin must have nothing whatsoever to do with her ever again whilst these respectable seeming gentlemen were at least treating her as a real and valuable person.

Said she in polite ignorance, "I suppose there must be other Standards in the world, those that govern conduct say in former times or distant places, perhaps it is of this you speak?"

"Something like that indeed, my lady," said the first with a grandiose bow, "but come, what crime or perception thereof has driven you so far from home?"

They both blinked in wonder at her brief tale, said the second, "and how is it you chose to flee to this peculiar Wood, whose reputation may be even worse among fashionable folk than even the flesh dealers that offered you succor?"

"I've never heard aught of this Wood, either good or ill," said she simply, "women are not told such things. I've tried to read up on things, not Things mind you, but anything I could lay hands on, but even that study was limited, for it is thought quite uncouth for a woman, particularly one of my standing, to know things, especially about Things." She brightened significantly at this, "now that I am a woman of ill-repute, will you tell me about the Things?"

"What things?" queried the first in confusion.

"You know!" said she a bit abashedly, "the reason the city has walls, the Things they are meant to keep out!"

The men exchanged a rather amused grin, at which she frowned, thinking their mirth sprang from her ignorance, but the second reassured her, "I am not sure why they built the walls if they think to repel Things from within this Wood, that is utterly ridiculous, but perhaps your folk do not understand that or it makes them feel better regardless, but either way, if the walls were meant to keep your folk safe from Things within the Wood, they are sorely mistaken."

"I see," said she rather lamely, but perked up as she considered, "still, if they are afraid of Things, there must be a reason and I would dearly love to learn it."

"I am afraid what your folk fear and the actual reality of the situation are two very different things, milady," said the first with a regretful shake of his head, continuing swiftly as she tried to interject eagerly, "and some of those truths cannot be imparted to you, for either the world is not ready or is forbidden from knowing or even we know not the truth of the matter."

She shut her eagerly gaping mouth and merely broached a disappointed, "oh," feeling again a little girl whose father had just told her serious books were not within the proper domain of womenfolk.

"That and there is not time enough between now and the end of days to thoroughly discuss such a topic," added the second hurriedly.

"So you are saying," mused she, "that though much must yet remain hidden from my ravenously curious mind, there are still enough facts of interest to keep me thoroughly occupied for the rest of my born days?"

"Certainly miss," grinned the first, "the better question would be, what do you need to know, what would be the most important topic to begin your education?"

She stood and brushed the residual brush from her hopelessly rumpled dress, touched her now feral hair with an appalled hand, only to discover her stylish hat was also missing, and said in resignation, "I suppose one's wardrobe and appearance are not of the utmost import within this wild wood of yours? If the residents hereof are not at all concerned with mortal walls, I would assume physical appearance would also be of little import?" Both men offered her a smart half bow of affirmation, their eyes sparkling in delight at her quick assessment of the situation and seemingly innate understanding thereof. She glanced around morosely at the unpromising gloom and asked, "and I suppose what I can see of this dismal place is hardly to be used as a measure to judge the Wood as a whole or even in part?"

"Indeed!" agreed the second happily, "you have a fine grasp upon the situation, for having just arrived and being..." He trailed off awkwardly, not knowing how to state the obvious in a delicate and politic manner.

She grinned at him, quite like an excited and unabashed child, "being a former society matron?"

"Quite," seconded the first.

"I suppose the most important matter to determine is what is to come of me?" she gazed at her interlocutors earnestly.

"I suppose we cannot just throw her back?" grinned the second in a most impish fashion.

At this, the lady gaped unwittingly like the metaphorical fish to which she had just been compared, little realizing that she had likewise committed a faux pas of vast egregiousness along with her companion: that of comparing a lady to an aquatic animal, it just was not done, at least not in proper circles, but as she glanced about once more, she was reminded just how far removed she now was from those very circles and decided to let the perceived insult pass unremarked, whereat the first came magnanimously to her rescue with, "you shouldn't compare a lady to a fish, my friend, not on any account."

"I suppose not," agreed the second, "but our quandary still remains, bad metaphors aside."

"It does at that," frowned the first pensively, eyeing the lady, he asked, "and what shall come of you madam?"

"I haven't a clue," said she morosely, "I was hoping you could tell me!"

"The outer world has utterly forsaken you," mused the second aloud, "yet you have no official place or standing within the Wood."

"Must I?" queried she, all curiosity.

The first nodded grimly, "aye madam, for without it you would find yourself in grave peril, for there are many factions and an ever shifting balance of power and most of the denizens have little love for mortals. At best they would ignore you, but there are many who would do far worse for the temerity you have shown in violating their Wood."

Her eyes narrowed as she studied them anew, "yet you are not afraid to go gallivanting about as it pleases you?" They both smiled at this, an irksome gesture, reminiscent of a smug and mysterious cat, with just as much hope of prying a satisfactory answer out of them as to the significance thereof. Sighed she in obvious disdain, "fine, keep your secrets! I can only then assume that I cannot safely depend upon physical appearance as a concrete sign of anything in this odd place?"

"You are quite correct, milady," agreed the first, "hope may be found within a monstrous guise and danger in the most innocuous."

"So you are not two gentlemen of means and leisure who have happened upon me in my hour of need?" asked she.

"We have happened upon you in your hour of need, quite providentially if I may add," said the second.

"And we are certainly Gentlemen, at least as the term should be defined, though not as the word is realized in your society," added the First.

"And we are certainly not men of leisure," chuckled the Second.

Added the First, "but we certainly have the means to accomplish the necessary."

"So what is to come of me?" asked she plaintively.

"What are your wishes and desires madam?" retorted the First.

"I want to belong somewhere," said she pensively, "to not be judged by things beyond my control. To be valued for what I am, rather than for what I am not or what I own or to whom I was born or for what I might do."

"The search of every quivering soul," nodded the Second.

"Can I find it?" asked she, hoping against hope, "here or anywhere?"

"It is quite attainable," smiled the First, "if you truly desire it."

"I do!" said she, "who doesn't?"

"Everyone desires it of course," said the First, "but most prefer to attempt to attain it in their own way, by their own power or cunning or strength, but it can only be attained one way."

"The Standards?" asked she nervously.

"Is your society's attempt at attaining it, yes," nodded the Second sagely, "but it is not the true Way."

"Good!" said she with a sigh of relief, "for I've tried it and found it extremely vexatious and thoroughly wanting." Her eyes narrowed suddenly, "how can you be so certain there is only one Way? That sounds rather myopic and closed minded if there are as many different cultures, tribes, traditions, and peoples in the world and even beyond it as you imply?"

"What does your society think of any that don't hold their Standard dear?" countered the First.

"We think them uncivilized heathens," said she at once, narrowing her eyes in thought and adding, "which makes me wonder if the truly civilized way to look at the matter is to see that perhaps there are many roads to the same destination?"

"And what would happen if you found a road and started traveling thereupon, assuming it must bear you wherever you had a mind to go regardless of whither it truly went?" asked the Second.

"That is ridiculous," giggled she, "a road can only go betwixt the places it is built; my wishes mean nothing."

"Should not the same be true of attempting to attain a certain end?" queried the first, "If you wish to obtain milk, one does not approach an obliging rock or climb a tree. Your society is right in its assumption that their Standard must be seen as the only way to achieve their desired end or chaos and confusion would result, even if they are wrong about the means thereof. They have the right idea but the wrong road."

"Humph," grunted she in disgust, realizing how much of a waste her life had been up until this very moment, but brightening added, "so how is one to attain the proper end?"

"Take the right road," said the First cryptically.

"Show me this way, then," urged she.

"It will cost you everything, milady," said the Second quietly.

"I have nothing left," countered she.

"Materially speaking, perhaps," agreed the First, but adding, "but what of your hopes, dreams, fears, doubts, time, preferences, prejudices, opinions, and physical being, all that makes up your heart, mind, body, and soul?"

"I must become nothing?" said she in growing alarm.

The Second shook his head minutely and said quietly, so much so that she had to strain to hear him, "we are nothing, or rather, each of us is accounted as nothing when compared to that which we seek. It is none of our doing, we come naked and empty handed, filthy and alone, disgusting beggars with nothing to recommend us."

She was trembling, whether in fear or anticipation, perhaps both, she scarcely knew, but licking her lips, she said just as quietly, "I am utterly wretched, beneath these fancy rags lurks nothing of worth or substance, yet you say it need not be so?"

"Aye, milady," smiled the First in growing anticipation, "in forsaking what we think we want, only then can we discover that which we truly need."

"Then show me," said she eagerly. The two gentlemen exchanged one of those maddeningly mystifying looks, bowed graciously to the lady, and then the world spun into blackness, dark as starless night.

