

The Greylands: Volume IX

Susan Skylark

Copyright 2020 Susan Skylark

Smashwords Edition

**Author's note:** each story is unique to itself and not related in any way to any other story, character, or world in this or any other series.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to an authorized retailor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents **:**

Aunt Irvina

Blood of Grapes

Remedial Education

The Ruins

Back for Dinner

Coming

Dancing

Dealings with Dragons

Ancient Evils

Errand Riders

In or Out of the Story

A Walk in the Woods

Grey Soldiers

Heart of the Forest

More Dancing

Such a Delightful Weakness

Unlikely Hero

Nightwolves

Curse of the Black Oak

Absent

Sword Wielding Maniacs

Pursued

On the Road Again

The Darkling Wood

End of the Age

Thrice Told Tales

The Valley

Wayward Sheep

Wrong Address

Other Books by this Author

Sample Chapters

Aunt Irvina

"Aunt Irvina strikes again," winced Bayard as he read through the rather lengthy missive from his Great Aunt.

"Why the pained look, my friend?" asked Prince Ithril, looking up from his own letters, he grinned wryly, "It isn't as if she expects you to marry any of her foundlings or charity cases?"

"No," said the young lord with a groan, "but she usually escorts and supervises the helpless young things herself until they can manage on their own or she finds someone to marry the poor creatures. This time she's expecting me to do it! Apparently this flare up of her gout is of such monstrous proportions that she will be confined to her country house for the foreseeable future, and blithely assuming that I have nothing better to do than supervise some penniless farmer's daughter she hopes to make a duchess."

"Maybe you should just marry the girl," laughed the Prince, "it would save you quite a bit of headache, I'm sure."

"It might at that," said Bayard, far too seriously. When the Prince grimaced at the thought of losing his closest friend and confidant to such a fate, Bayard could no longer control his countenance and at last broke forth in a merry laugh at the Prince's discomfiture.

"Cad!" snapped the Prince, though his own lips were twitching mysteriously.

"You're the one who suggested it," smiled the lordling as blandly as he could muster.

"Is it even proper?" asked the Prince quite seriously, "Can't she find some bored dowager to do it?"

"You know all these social elites would rather eat a live toad than be caught in public with such an ill bred creature, regardless of her charms," said Bayard, "save my dearest Aunt. And no, she doesn't expect me to escort the girl hither and yon, but rather asks that I keep an eye on her and help as I can in forwarding her social position."

"She does have excellent taste," mused the Prince.

"I can't argue with that," agreed Bayard, "the last one did end a duchess!" His grin became wry indeed, "perhaps you should marry this one."

"Not unless she is related to someone that might benefit my father politically," sighed the Prince, "if I had to choose, I very well might take one of your Aunt's little experiments over any woman my father picks for political convenience. That is one advantage of the peasantry: they can sometimes marry for love."

"I doubt it," said Bayard grimly, "I fear, no matter your station, there are far too many other factors involved to allow mere affection to be the cornerstone of matrimony. You've read too many stories, Sire."

"Me?!" smiled the Prince, "I thought you were the scholar and fairytale enthusiast in residence."

"Yes," said Bayard, "but I am not silly enough to take them to heart as you seem to be doing with your notions of romance and happily ever after."

"A pity," said the Prince rather dismally, "what then is the point of such tales?"

Bayard frowned slightly, "an excellent question."

The great carriage at last rolled to a stop, Megan swallowed hard, pasted a look of passive indifference on her face, and tried to squelch the panic rising in her heart. This was it, once that door opened the fairy tale would begin in earnest; she just wished she was not so utterly alone. All the other fortunate girls who had caught Great Aunt Irvina's eye had at least had that dear but eccentric Lady for companion and guide. All Megan had was the Lady's assurances that her nephew would manage everything quite admirably in her absence. Viciously swatting the gigantic butterflies frolicking in her stomach, she exited the carriage and prepared to face her doom, whatever it be.

There was no one there, at least no one that mattered, only the servants, guards, and various minions required to attend to the great townhouse and her ladyship's equipage. She smiled wryly at herself, already seeing the servants as somehow less than human, or at least less important than she would have only three days prior, when she was just another farmer's daughter, rather than the current protégé of one of the social elite: she was already beginning to think like a lady, how horrid! Especially when any of the various servants and menials within view had outranked her less than a week gone. Yes, she must act the part she was now required to play, but she must not thoughtlessly adopt an unworthy way of thinking, especially about her fellow men. She suddenly began to wonder what the nephew was like, hoping he was of as generous a heart as his Aunt.

The servants soon had her settled in her new abode, which left her to wonder what she was to do with herself in the days to come, certainly no one would come to visit or send an invitation to a no name, upstart peasant without her great benefactor to personally interfere on her behalf. Again her thoughts were drawn to the nephew, who would apparently have all the power of making her stay in the great city something grand and worthwhile or a complete waste of time, a mere farce. But who, besides that dear old lady, would trouble themselves for her sake? If he was anything like most of these noble types, he wouldn't even consider inconveniencing and demeaning himself for his strange aunt's fancies. This disquieting thought flitted through her mind as she wandered the house, looking for something, anything to occupy her otherwise frantic mind. She stumbled into what looked to be a well-stocked and comfortable library, unable to contain a smile of pure joy, at least her stay would not be completely without distraction and enjoyment.

They sat awkwardly over tea the next morning, each more embarrassed than the other, neither finding the other to be anything like their presuppositions assumed the other to be. At last Bayard could contain himself no longer and said with a relieved laugh, "pardon, milady, but I must laugh or burst. This is all quite ridiculous."

"I certainly agree," smiled Megan, happy to see the fellow at least had a sense of humor, "your Aunt could not have contrived a more awkward situation for either of us. How are we to continue, it certainly cannot be in this manner?"

"Dear Aunt Irvina certainly has a large heart," agreed he, "but very little idea of how to carry out her grand schemes if not personally involved. Our associating in this manner would not only be highly awkward but quite improper. You cannot continue without a respectable female chaperone." His smile became wry as he added, "or a husband."

"Is that a proposal?" countered the girl without thinking, coloring immediately at her blunder while Bayard's smile was half scandalized, half amused at her touching upon a subject so recently broached by the Prince.

"It would certainly make things less awkward," said he, "but no, it would only deepen the scandal, at least amongst the social elite."

"Perhaps I should just go home!" sighed Megan.

"It would quite break my dear Aunt's tender heart," said Bayard concernedly, "besides, we are neither of us dolts; we'll think of something."

"I suppose," said Megan dully, "until then I must stay at home alone for the foreseeable future. I am not a city person, at least if I must be idle, let me run wild through wood and fen!"

Bayard could not help but laugh, "you are a regular dryad, milady. How ever did my Aunt convince you to endure such captivity?"

Said she thoughtfully, "I am not quite certain, she insisted and I could not resist her, though I was quite aghast at the suggestion from the start."

"That's my Aunt all right," nodded Bayard, "she has such a way about her that she can make anyone do just about anything for her without even realizing it until they are quite in the middle of the venture."

"So what is to come of this business?" asked she rather desperately, "I can't go home, yet neither is it proper for me to venture abroad without a proper escort."

Said he thoughtfully, "the Spring Ball is set for tomorrow night, I can get you a dance with the Prince, which should establish your reputation as someone quite special and mysterious. You'll have plenty of invitations and curiosity seekers flocking about you thereafter. What do you think?"

"I think I'd rather stay here and read, but your Aunt would be quite distraught at the very idea," said she wistfully, "and I do appreciate all your trouble on my behalf. Let's do it, and if I can't fend socially for myself successfully thereafter, it is my own fault and I should probably go home and trouble you no more. Would your Aunt be satisfied?"

"Not unless you manage to catch a noble husband of some stripe," chuckled Bayard, "but yes, I think your obligations to her would be fully met thereby and you could go home and marry the scruffiest shepherd you can find."

"What a choice!" giggled she, "Why can't I just become a meddling patroness like your Aunt?"

"And inflict more awkwardness and social scandal upon the unsuspecting masses? Have a heart, milady!" said he in feigned dismay.

"The shepherd it is then," sighed she, ruining the effect with a glorious smile.

"Dance with her?!" said the Prince later that day when Bayard broached the subject.

"Just think of the rumors it will spawn," grinned Bayard, "that alone is worth the trouble."

"I suppose the speculation it would inspire will be vastly amusing at that," mused the Prince.

Bayard added, "and she is quite a fine girl in her own right, Sire, you might even enjoy it and she certainly deserves whatever help we can give her." He laughed, "at any rate, she'd rather go home and climb trees than go to such a gala."

"So would I," agreed the Prince, adding, "very well, it will be great fun to so discomfit all the society mothers and their grasping daughters, not to mention the help it might give so deserving a girl." He arched an eyebrow, "are you sure you don't want to marry her?"

"Cad," retorted Bayard, with all the blandness he could contrive.

So it was that the nameless farmer's daughter danced with the Prince, igniting a firestorm of speculation and rumor as to who this mysterious lady might be and why the prince was dancing with her. None guessed the truth however, for none had hearts that could quite fathom such kindness to a veritable non-entity, therefore there must be something in it that they had yet to discover, some ulterior motive or benefit to the Prince or his father. And truly, the Prince had never enjoyed a dance more, for the girl was bright, honest, and had a keen wit, quite a change from the terrified, insipid, or devious maids with whom he usually graced the floor. The dance accomplished, she gave him a glorious smile, the proper courtesies, and then fled the ball with all the haste of one who knew she might well turn into a pumpkin when the clock struck twelve, and happily before the wondering masses could accost her and demand the truth, none daring to ask his Highness the Crown Prince.

Bayard joined his royal friend as he stood beside the punch table, quenching his thirst after the night's exertions. Grinned the prince, "you really should marry the girl, she is certainly a ray of sunshine amidst this dreary noble fog we must endlessly endure. A pity I cannot. Therefore, as my dearest friend, your next assignment shall be to find another such maiden, this one with the necessary political benefits."

"As you wish it Sire," said Bayard in a properly toadying manner, "I can but hear and obey."

"Now if only you could work miracles," added the Prince unhelpfully.

"I'm only a man, Sire," said Bayard wistfully. They exchanged a grim smile as the Prince returned to his duty amidst the swirling maelstrom that was somehow supposed to produce romance, happiness, and most importantly, political stability. Too bad real life wasn't a little more like those fairy tales his friend was always reading.

Her ladyship's carriage whisked the mysterious maiden swiftly back to that great Lady's house, therein to await the inevitable callers of a curious or devious nature, hoping to discover who this peculiar girl was, why the Prince would deign to dance with her, and perhaps how she could be of benefit to themselves. But her first visitor after the infamous ball was far from the cunning, disdainful, toadying, or grasping socialites she expected, in fact, it was a thing completely beyond her experience or comprehension and quite rudely failed to make even the slightest introduction when she found it waiting for her in the deeper shadows of her sitting room, lit only by the dying fire on the hearth.

"Well my little minx," hissed the creature, for she could think of no other term to describe it, save perhaps phantom, wraith, specter, or ghoul, but she was not yet ready to descend to such impolite euphemisms unless absolutely necessary, perhaps there was a reasonable explanation, but with such a beginning she highly doubted it, continued her shadowy companion, "you had best explain yourself."

"Why?" asked the girl, "You are the one who invaded my sitting room without an invitation and have even failed to properly introduce yourself."

The thing snarled, "insolent girl! Know you not that I can unmake you with a thought? Who are you and why did the Prince find it worth his while to pay you such a compliment?"

She shook her head, strangely unafraid of the creature, "that is none of your business, at least until you tell me what you are and why you care?"

"It is my business to know all that passes in this pitiful realm," growled the shade, "if something or someone attempts to disrupt the carefully laid plans unfolding for this wretched Kingdom, it is my duty to stop it."

"There is the why, I suppose," said she with a grim smile, "but still no what?"

"Your worst nightmares come to life," keened the thing in malicious anticipation, "do not toy with me, girl!"

That grim smile deepened, "I am no one you need concern yourself about. Upon the rolls of those that shake Kingdoms and thwart destiny, my name shall certainly never be recorded. I am merely a peasant to whom a great lady has been most gracious. The Prince merely danced with me as a favor to his friend, the nephew of said great lady, in hopes of inspiring interest amongst the social elite." Her smile became wry as she finished, "though it seems such speculation has gone far beyond anything we insipid schemers could have dreamed or feared."

"Well played, chit," hissed the smoky villain, "such skills could be of great use to us, and it would give you the chance to exercise your potential in ways you cannot even begin to imagine, rather than settling for the paltry and pointless affairs that are currently within your grasp."

"Us?" asked the girl tremulously, feeling suddenly curious and eager at the mysteries barely hinted at but not without a shudder of loathing for this creature, whatever it was, and its hope to involve her in its obviously despicable schemes.

"The true power in the universe," whispered the shade, "those who make mortal kingdoms crumble or establish empires that never wane, who raise up kings and throw them down, whatever be our wish. Slough off this weak and fickle mortal flesh, use your native cunning for more than mere survival; become the powerful and immortal creature you have the potential to be!"

"What's the catch?" asked the girl in growing dread, "It certainly sounds too good to be true."

"You'd rather live out your days in poverty and ignominy and then die?" hissed the monster.

"Such is the usual wont of we mere mortals," said the girl, that wry smile adorning her face unbidden, only heightening the creature's ire.

Snarled the fiend, "you have wasted my time this evening, wench! For that you must pay, either with your life or your service. Decide now!"

She took a step back in terror, "I want nothing to do with you or your fell schemes."

"Very well," said the shadow, as it loomed hungrily towards the terrified girl, "it seems I was vastly mistaken in thinking you possessed of any wit whatsoever." A few minutes later, it slunk from the room as unobtrusively as the shadow it was.

"Aunt Irvina?" gasped Megan in some astonishment, though after the night she had had, it was surprising that anything could discomfit her in the least henceforth.

"Quite," said that great lady.

Megan's eyes narrowed, "I thought you were confined to bed with the gout?"

"I would think the gout, while certainly a useful excuse at times, would be rather immaterial to folk of our persuasion," said her ladyship with a knowing smile.

"It is not the gout that is immaterial, my lady," said the girl dryly, "but point taken." She blinked again, as if unsure of the reality of the sights about her, but as she glanced about curiously, the night dark wood, draped in mist, neither wavered nor changed.

"It is a little surreal at first," said Aunt Irvina, agreeing to the girl's unspoken comment, though quite obvious in her face and eyes, "but soon it will be second nature."

"Could I not rather have married a duke?" asked the girl, her humor finally reasserting itself after the disquiet revelations of the night.

"Perhaps," said the lady, but adding with an eager smile, "it would in nowise be half so interesting."

The girl glanced at her misty, insubstantial hand and asked, "I hope this is not what comes of most of your protégés?"

"Certainly not," chuckled the equally misty lady, "those that don't marry well or find their place in society simply return home, a little wiser about the world and hopefully themselves. You are the first that has ventured down this most intriguing of paths."

"So we're not ghosts?" said the girl in relief.

"Child," laughed Aunt Irvina outright, "do not be ridiculous! We're soldiers in a war far older than time itself."

"I've always wanted to gad about the country on some great horse, a sword on my hip upon some perilous quest bent," said the girl eagerly.

"You've read far too many stories, my dear," said the lady.

Megan glanced again at her hand, "rather it seems to me that we are in one."

"Certainly," said she with a laugh, "every life is a story, lass, yours has just taken a very interesting turn. Are you sure you'd rather be a duchess?"

"I suppose not," sighed the girl, "I just wish I knew what I was."

"A girl," said Aunt Irvina, "a person, a human, a woman, same as you've always been and will ever be. You've just passed beyond death and time and acquired a few useful proclivities in the process."

"That shadowy thing...?" began Megan.

Aunt Irvina's countenance grew dangerous, causing the girl to take an unwitting step back in fear, but the menace in those eyes was not meant for her, said she, "will now have reason to fear you." Megan's smile suddenly matched that of the predaciously grinning lady.

"That was certainly a tedious way to pass an evening," bemoaned the Prince, as they dragged themselves towards their chambers at an obscene hour of the morning, "the best part of the whole night was my dance with your little shepherdess. Perhaps you should bring her to court on occasion, just to keep things interesting?"

"She'd love that, Highness," said Bayard with a chuckle, "but it would certainly keep Aunt Irvina happy. Not to mention providing a little excitement in the dullest place on earth, happily warding off all chances of us being bored to death in the near future. But I fear it will be quite the scandal, especially if anyone actually learns the truth of the matter." He grinned wryly, "not that anyone would believe it if they did." They parted ways as the Prince retired to his chambers and Bayard walked in the direction of his own, silently musing on just what they were to do with Aunt Irvina's latest project.

"This is your fault," hissed something in the deepest shadows of the bed chamber, suddenly drawing Bayard's wandering thoughts back to the present moment, his hand straying to his sword, though somehow he knew it was a futile gesture, continued the menace in the corner, "and now you must help rectify matters, one way or another."

"I want no part in your schemes," quavered the boy.

He felt the thing's evil smile as it loomed out of the shadows, a thing wrought of shadow itself, purred the wraith in eager pleasure, "then we'll have to do this the hard way." He felt suddenly cold, as if Death itself had taken his hand, and then everything was darkness. When he could again feel, think, and see, he wished desperately for the unknowing dark to engulf him permanently, for they were no longer in his comfortable bed chamber, but rather inexplicably in a dripping ruin surrounded by a night dark wood, wherein any number of those shadowy horrors seemed to dance and writhe in a ring about him like so many shadows cast on a wall by a bonfire. "Are you sure you want no part in this?" hissed the creature, "For you shall betray your friend the Prince either way, it would be to your benefit to do it willingly."

"No," said the boy staunchly, though his knees were shaking so much he feared they might buckle beneath him.

The monstrosity seemed to shrug and the undulations of the ringing shades increased in intensity and chaos, as if his refusal fed their infernal glee. Suddenly the thing was upon him again, he felt those amorphous claws, cold and hopeless as death, digging ever deeper into his being, though his physical self remained unharmed, he felt the thing ripping and slashing into the very core of his being, into whatever it was that composed his spirit or soul or mind, whatever it was that bound his being to the physical world. He felt shredded to tatters, as if his very heart had been ripped physically from his chest or his brain ejected from his skull, but he could hold on no longer, falling again into darkness even as his body slumped limply to the cracked and overgrown paving stones like a crumpled garment, the eyes glazing and vacant, but the heart beating steadily on and the chest rising and falling with every breath. The shadow keened in triumph before taking up residence in the abandoned mortal coil, while the surrounding fiends writhed in a frenetic and malicious ecstasy.

Bayard blinked awake, for a moment horrified, but then suddenly calm and lucid upon glimpsing the familiar features of the chamber about him. What a horrid dream! But still a dream for all of that. He rose from the bed, still clad in his finery from the night previous, he must have simply collapsed in exhaustion the moment he sat down, no wonder he was subject to such nightmares. He opened the heavy drapes and looked happily out upon the rising day, silently musing how long before everyone else in the castle would be abroad with such a night of revelry from which to recover. Venturing out into the corridors, he saw none but the servants hastening about their business, indifferent to the post-hedonistic ague now afflicting the majority of the castle's noble residents, causing Bayard to wonder at his own vigor and energy, especially after such an indifferent few hours of sleep.

He wandered out into the gardens, but finding nothing of interest or import there, he ventured into the stables, quite restless but unable to say why; perhaps a brisk ride would help settle his mind. He was soon enough in the saddle and on his way out of the prosperous city, letting the horse have his head as soon as they found an empty sidetrack, unimpeded by the morning traffic en route to the city to be about their daily business. The beast stopped abruptly with a nervous whicker, nearly unseating his heedless rider. Bayard again felt the presence he had convinced himself was but a dream the previous evening, which seemed intent once more to haunt his waking reality.

Another rider, draped all in black cloth so that one could see neither face nor feature, sat his saddle just a few paces away. "Who or what are you?" whispered the boy, a peculiar feeling suddenly rising in his heart, not fear this time, but something entirely strange and otherworldly, an inexplicable eagerness and courage not born of this world.

He felt the thing's cruel smile, and as it dropped its hood he gasped, even as it replied mockingly, "I am you, fool!"

The poor horse could take no more, the gelding reared and flung himself over backwards as the monstrosity revealed itself; the menace in the air was nearly palpable and thrummed in the ears like a nascent migraine. The beast struggled to its feet and fled with all the speed it possessed, leaving its rider ingloriously in the lane, dust covered and rumpled, but seemingly none the worse for wear. Bayard gained his feet to the mocking chorus of the doppelganger's uproarious laughter, saying as he faced the apparition once more, "no, fiend, you are not!"

"Who is to say that I am not?" hissed the creature, "All your mortal acquaintance will not know the difference as I wreak havoc in your name!"

"Think again, monster!" said the boy stonily, his sword in hand. The fiend laughed darkly as it spurred its horse forward, a blade black as night clutched in one fist. Bayard held his sword steady as the fell thing tried to trample him where he stood, the shadow-wrought horse screamed in agony and evaporated into dark mist, its fell rider hissed imprecations as it too met the same fate, impaled on that horrid blade, even as Bayard himself dissolved into mist and moonbeams.

He blinked awake again, or at least he hoped he was truly awake this time, bleary eyed and confused, even in the comforting confines of his long familiar room. The sun stood at its midday peak, a more proper hour for rising after the night's ado than the obscene hour at which he previously thought himself awake. He rolled out of bed once more, wondering what, if anything, it all meant. With a sigh, he tamed his unruly hair, donned fresh clothes, and went to see if the world was mad or if he was. He met the Prince at breakfast, chipper and eager, as was his usual wont, it seemed he at least had found the night's repose refreshing.

Laughed his Highness, upon sighting his rumpled friend, "come Bayard, it was I who did all the hard work last evening, yet it seems you have not slept a wink."

"I'm not sure that I have, Sire," said Bayard quietly, "I have had the most fantastic dreams."

"You must be in love," chuckled the Prince, "that or the oysters didn't agree with you."

"I certainly hope it was the latter," sighed the young lord.

"Whatever it is," smiled the Prince, "I have just the thing to liven things up around here, for both yourself and the palace as a whole. Go get that pretty little farmer of yours, but let's sneak her in that side gate on the far side of the gardens; I'll meet you there."

Bayard's brow rose at the Prince's audacity, but he could but hear and obey, even such a nonsensical whim as currently seemed to be the Prince's intent. Leaving his eggs, he hied himself off towards the stable, though the lad who assisted him gave him a rather odd look, he was soon enough in his saddle and off to fetch the lady. He rang the bell at Great Aunt Irvina's house and was ushered into her posh sitting room, therein to await the current mistress of the house. Bayard was rather taken aback when Great Aunt Irvina herself walked into the room, gaped he, "I thought you were indisposed, my lady?!"

She chuckled at his discomfiture, "I have overcome far worse, sir. I suppose you are come for my little project? It seems you have been quite attentive to my protégé, as I have asked."

He smiled warmly at her approbation, "thank you, milady, indeed, the Prince has requested her presence specifically."

She looked rather troubled as she asked, "he isn't falling for the poor girl, is he?"

Bayard could not help but laugh, "nay lady, he is merely bored and intends some mischief or other to further discomfit the peerage."

She shook her head, as if grieved, but ruined the effect with an ill-concealed smile of amusement, "what was I thinking, leaving the girl in your incautious hands, but I suppose there is nothing else to be done; a royal edict is a royal edict. Very well, take her and be gone, cad!" Megan was soon fetched, giving the lady a quizzical look as she entered, but made the proper courtesies before looking expectantly at her companions. Said that great lady, "very well, my dear, off with you!" She looked as if she might balk for a moment to ask a question, but the lady's raised brow suddenly made her think better of it, prompting a hasty courtesy from them both ere they fled the room, exchanging a mad, gleeful smile as they ducked out of the room, like a pair of children caught in the midst of some trifling mischief or other. The lady wore just such a look herself as she watched their retreat, wondering what their adventure would entail.

"The Prince has summoned me!" gasped the girl as they stood outside the garden gate, waiting to be let in.

"It isn't what you think, milady," grinned Bayard, "he is in no way besotted, but rather intends to wreak further havoc upon the aristocracy's delicate sensibilities."

"Excellent," said she, "I never thought that great lady's offer would be so much fun!"

Just then the gate opened and the prince was heard to whisper, "can you two keep it down lest half the kingdom be alerted to our little scheme and thereby ruining my most excellent plan?" They exchanged an abashed smile and hastened into the palace gardens. Once they were secreted in some overgrown glade, the prince said to the lady, "you are very welcome, milady."

She gave the proper courtesy and said with a conspiratorial smile, "this shall be great fun, Highness, what then is our scheme?"

He nodded happily, "even so, my lady, it seems you are quite ready to play the part I intend for you, this is a most excellent beginning indeed. I have arranged quarters for you, befitting a lady of your status of course, but I would also like you to vanish from time to time, perhaps guising yourself as a servant occasionally, to increase the mystery and the rumors surrounding your identity."

"How thoroughly delightful," agreed Megan, secretly musing that there was an even easier way to vanish, at least in her peculiar circumstances.

"And what is to be the end of all this?" asked Bayard with a slight frown, "What if someone should take it amiss or harm should befall the lady?"

Megan snorted in a most unladylike fashion, "I am willing to take the risk, sir."

The Prince shook his head sadly, "I never took you for such a stick in the mud, my friend, if there be any political ramifications, they shall fall squarely on my shoulders, the King and the realm need bear none of the guilt or consequences in this matter."

"As you say, Highness," replied Bayard, then smiling wryly he added, "I am but your humble servant."

The prince nodded succinctly, "which is as it should be," before sharing a mad grin with the lady, Bayard could not help but join in with their gleeful conspiracy, his misgivings suddenly forgotten.

While the Prince was soon drawn away on some matter of royal business, Bayard was left to get the lady settled in her quarters and see that she was provided with the necessary disguises: both regal and servile. As he withdrew, he asked cordially, "have you need of anything else, madam?"

She gave him a glorious smile and said, "I think I am thoroughly equipped for the adventure before me."

He bowed himself from the lady's presence and returned to his own chambers, needing to think and unwind after such a strange day, but his hope was not to be fulfilled, for what he insisted on calling a nightmare intruded itself upon him for a third time that day. A chill ran up his spine as he confronted the shadow once more, at least this time it was a mere shade again, not a thing clad in his flesh. "What are you?" sighed the boy, "What do you want?"

The malicious thing smiled patronizingly, "you don't have a clue, do you, wretch?" The boy merely looked at the fiend blankly, at a loss for words, prompting a vastly amused chuckle from the villain, "how perfectly splendid! Now toddle off and we need not trouble one another further."

"I think not," came the voice of Aunt Irvina's latest project, suddenly appearing in their midst, sword in hand, so startling the pair that they could do nothing but gape in surprise for a moment before the specter evaporated like frost in the sun with a swift stroke of the lady's sword. She smiled broadly at the mystified Bayard before vanishing utterly once more. The boy rose to his feet and dashed from the room, determined to get to the bottom of this conundrum once and for all. He did not even bother with knocking but charged into the lady's chambers, figuring if she could ghost in and out of his uninvited, he could do likewise.

She seemed to be expecting him, for she sat primly in a chair and smiled amusedly at him, "it took you long enough."

He stared at her blankly, exacerbating her smile, "come sir, have you no inkling of what is afoot?"

"No," said he, collapsing in another chair, "I haven't the foggiest."

She smiled gently at him, all amusement gone from her countenance, "perhaps you should speak with your dear aunt."

He gaped at her, "what on earth can Aunt Irvina have to do with any of this?"

"You'd be surprised," said she wryly, "but then, this has nothing to do with earth or the things upon it."

The boy groaned, "will no one enlighten me? This has been the queerest day of my life!"

"Sorry lad," came Aunt Irvina's merry voice, "but you're quite beyond such paltry concerns as time and mortal life."

He slumped back in his chair, resigned to his fate, whatever it be, but no longer agape at the sudden comings and goings of those around him, wondering if anything would ever surprise him after this. Said he at last, "it was all real?"

Irvina smiled gently, "all of it lad, but don't worry, though it seems a nightmare, you've entered a reality far more wonderful than your dearest dreams."

He smiled weakly, "it is all rather a muddle at the moment."

"Certainly," chuckled that great lady, "most transitions are fraught with confusion and awkwardness, but fear not, you'll soon enough be master of yourself and ready for any adventure that might beset you."

He looked to the girl hopefully, "how long have you been involved in this...adventure?"

Irvina laughed heartily, "she's quite the veteran lad, for those horrid shadows set upon her a full three hours before they had their way with you."

He could not help but smile, his sense of irony and amusement soon overcoming his overwrought sensibilities, "an old campaigner indeed, milady!" His eyes narrowed, "and just how long have you known how to efficiently wield a sword?"

She grinned widely at him, "an entire five minutes, sir."

His laugh was grand indeed, said he when at last he gained control of his mirth, "that is about what I had supposed, but you wield it creditably, milady. My dear Aunt must be a masterful teacher indeed!"

They all laughed at this, and once the outburst had subsided, Irvina said, her lips still twitching in mirth, "that's the spirit lad, there's no room for moping in my command." He could not help but grin widely at the thought of his ancient aunt posing as some sort of military leader. "Grin all you like lad," smiled she, "but it's still true, strange as it seems. And here you thought me nothing more interesting than a meddling old spinster!"

"That is perhaps the greatest surprise of the day, madam," said Bayard in astonishment, "and it has been a day replete with peculiarities."

Megan added unhelpfully, "at least you'll never get bored."

"Hush, child," chuckled the lady, "you know nothing as of yet."

She grinned, "I know more than him."

Irvina rolled her eyes, "as if that means anything!"

Bayard asked with a slight frown, "just how long have you been at this yourself, madam?"

Irvina grinned mysteriously, "since I was about your age."

He nodded, but his perplexed look did not lessen, "so what does one do in this peculiar service? I doubt we all get to serve as illustrious matchmakers to penniless peasant girls?"

"A veritable fairy godmother," chuckled Aunt Irvina, "but no, anything and everything might be asked of you, child. For now you must content yourselves with warding the Prince from those nefarious shadows and foiling their schemes for the Kingdom."

"Will you help us?" asked the now anxious young lord.

She smiled at him fondly, but also in vast amusement, "I'll be around lad, should you have need of me, but you'll know what you must, when you must. Besides, it isn't for a noble lady to risk soiling her gloves meddling in such affairs, Captain or not." The neophytes exchanged a look, half amused, half scandalized, and when they turned their gaze again upon Aunt Irvina, she was gone.

Bayard blinked, but turned his attention back to Megan, asked he, "so what can you tell me about all this, oh experienced one?"

"Not much," smiled the impish girl, but added as his face fell, "but it will certainly be far better than nothing at all, which is your current plight." He now wore such a look of attentive eagerness that she could not help but laugh, "at least you shall be a good little pupil."

"I but live to serve, madam," he grinned heartily, "as any of my tutors would be pleased to tell you."

"So it is the Prince himself who is the scamp then?" mused she.

Bayard blinked in astonishment but then frowned thoughtfully, "now that you mention it, I believe you are quite correct! To think a royal personage could have such an impish streak, it is quite scandalous!"

"Even more than a farmer's daughter impersonating a lady of status and renown!" giggled she.

"Even so!" agreed he jovially, but sobering he could not help but ask plaintively, "Now what about this other nonsense I've found myself embroiled in?"

"Oh, it's not nonsense," smiled she, "indeed, it is quite the contrary. It is certainly the most wonderful thing in all the world, for it is just a hint of the wondrous things that lurk beyond it."

"So we are dead?" asked he glumly, prompting another outburst of giggling, quite improper to his thinking, from his vastly amused tutor.

"We're quite beyond death, sir," said she primly, catching his offended look, "you need to quit thinking like a mortal man!"

"That's the only frame of reference with which I am familiar," said he in growing confusion.

"I suppose I am making a horrid hash of this explanation at that," grinned she. Trying to maintain some semblance of sobriety, she began in earnest, "yes, that horrid shadow did make a physical end of you, but obviously it wasn't the final end of you. In fact, you agreed to this, whether you remember it or not, else you'd now find yourself beyond this world rather than lolling about quite at your leisure." He opened his mouth to protest such a representation of his character, but her vast grin silenced him, she knew very well he was not an oafish lout but rather chose to amuse herself with flights of fancy thereupon; he would only distract her again, so he let the matter slide that she might continue, in her own labyrinthine way, to enlighten him as to his current plight. Continued she, fully confident in her ability to disconcert him, "we each agreed to this service, forsaking eternity for a time that we yet might be of benefit to the mortal world, countering those enemies against whom mortal men stand defenseless."

"Now you sound like some village storyteller!" gasped Bayard, "You are telling me the legends are true?"

A blinding light suddenly flared forth and a book rested in her hands, she smiled widely at his astonished look, but said only, "truly sir, you find yourself in the heart of a myth, the very stuff of legend!" She handed him the book, open upon a certain page, and was blissfully silent as he read.

He looked at her with wide eyes once he had finished perusing the indicated text, but his lips bore a wondrous smile, "it's true! The tales are indeed true?!"

"Some of them," smiled the girl, "some are truly fiction, but many are true, or at least have a seed of truth within them or hint at greater truths, if not being entirely factual themselves."

He looked at his hand, it appeared no different than it ever had, somehow he thought things must be very different than they had been but the day before, if what the girl said was true, but they were still very much the same. As if reading his disquiet thoughts, Megan replied, "you are still very much yourself, as you shall ever be. And things must look the same else awkward questions might result, but it is only on the surface that things remain unchanged; everything else is as much different as a butterfly is from the caterpillar."

He looked again at the book of fantastic stories, still not quite understanding that he was now an entry therein. After a long, thoughtful silence, he queried, "who wrote the book then? Do mortal men truly know aught of us?"

Her smile was as feline as a human countenance could contrive, "did not your dear Aunt mention that anything and everything might be asked of us? She gets to play fairy godmother, someone else wrote a book of seeming fairytales, who knows what our own stories will be once told!"

But there came no reply, for suddenly they were all pricked ears and searching eyes, and hardly knowing what it was he did, Bayard suddenly vanished, at least from anyone's perception, for he certainly remained in the room. There came a knock at the door, the lady said, 'come in,' and a servant bobbed a very proper courtesy and said his Highness the Crown Prince wished for an audience. The lady wanted to grin ear to ear, but heroically schooled her countenance to bland neutrality and said that his Majesty was most welcome to enter.

Ithril entered with the required courtesy and pomp, but once the servant and all prying ears were safely gone, he grinned quite incongruously at the lady, at least for a Prince to a noble lady, but if they were but two children plotting mischief together, it would not be surprising at all. He picked up the book occupying Bayard's former seat and sat, the storybook open in his lap. He frowned slightly as he perused the tale and then looked askance at the lady, "so you are a lover of old tales as well, milady?"

"Certainly, Highness," said she, "but you are not?"

He looked a little embarrassed but said boldly, "I certainly enjoyed them well enough as a child, but my interest waned with maturity; the duties and responsibilities of my position, you understand, require me to spend my time on less entertaining and far more practical subjects."

She laughed outright, "ah Sire, fairytales are certainly practical, though I suppose your tutors are far too enlightened to understand what the dullest child knows innately. Indeed, they are a vital part of a well rounded education."

"You tease me, madam," smiled the Prince, though it seemed strained, "I am not used to such banter."

"No one is bold enough to tease you," smiled she, "a pity, no wonder life is so dull for you of late that you must stoop to such hijinks as you wish to involve me in."

"Quite," said he, rather embarrassed to be thus found out, "but you are correct, it is rather refreshing, if a bit disconcerting, at that. I may have to retain you as my personal jester if this continues, madam, lest I become a proverbial stick in the mud myself." He frowned, "where is that incorrigible friend of mine? He is supposed to be deeply involved in our schemes but here I find him quite remiss in his duties! I'll have his head for this!"

"As is only proper, Highness," said she as blandly as tepid water, at which they both burst out laughing. Just then there came another knock at the door, and this time Bayard was presented in a properly visible fashion, prompting another descent into ill contained mirth at his expense.

Once all and sundry had again regained some semblance of sanity, Bayard said calmly, "what would you have of me, Highness?"

"None of that!" said the Prince, quite scandalized, "We are just three nameless plotters of equal import and rank. Propriety is quite improper betwixt the three of us."

Bayard nodded, not bothering to hide his smile at his friend's blatant impishness, the maiden was certainly having a strange influence upon them all, which was probably not a bad thing, not in the least. He settled into another chair that they might plot, and laugh, in earnest, the Prince quite enjoying himself as he had not in living memory.

The King sat at his great desk, muddling through the paperwork and correspondence required for the Kingdom's very survival, rather wishing he could be doing anything else, even envying the least of the stable lads their duties. But all thoughts abandoned him as he read the strange missive before him. Very mysterious indeed! Well, why not? He was past due for an adventure, even of such a minor sort as the letter hinted at, and the anonymous writer promised to discuss matters vital to the Kingdom, so it would be business after all. He put away his letters and papers, rose from his chair, and hastily exited the room, eager for this mysterious rendezvous, whatever it was.

He entered the abandoned sitting room and hesitantly closed the door behind him, for there was no light whatsoever in the room and he was suddenly uneasy in the dark, with menace so thick about him he might well don it as a cloak, but it must be his imagination, such things did not happen in real life to grown men. "Welcome, Sire," hissed a voice out of the shadows, "I am deeply honored by your presence and you will be well rewarded for your trouble for I am a bearer of grim but vital news."

The King stood with his back to the door, his hand still upon the knob, nearly trembling in terror, as all mortals must when confronting such an evil, but staunchly holding his ground, grated he, "tell all, sir, tell all."

The shadow hissed in pleasure, "certainly Highness. I am quite concerned for your son. I fear he is besotted with a certain lady of mysterious and questionable character and is ready to plunge the crown, if not the kingdom, into disgrace and infamy, if not war and disaster for her sake. Worse, his dearest friend is encouraging the match."

"I have heard of this woman," said the King faintly, hardly able to think in the presence of his vile companion, "it is a pity certainly, but this romance must be stopped, by whatever means necessary."

"Then I have your permission to act as I must," purred the voice eagerly.

"Do what you must," said the King, "only spare my son's life and reputation, otherwise do what you must."

"Gladly, Highness!" whispered the shadow before fleeing the room. The King suddenly knew himself alone, his legs finally gave way beneath him and he slid down the door and slumped on the floor, weeping, but he knew not why.

Later that evening, the grim King called Ithril to him for a private conference, the boy entered the room hesitantly, sensing all was not well with his father, draped in a sense of gloom and foreboding as he was. Said the King heavily to his son, once the boy had dared approach, "it is a dark hour for the Kingdom, child." The boy said nothing, but looked attentively to his father, worry and a question creasing his brow, "yes," continued the monarch, who felt ten years older in as many hours, "a grim hour indeed, and I fear it is of your doing." The Prince was shocked, but ere he said a word the King pressed on, "nay lad, I do not think it was intentional, but there is little enough of logic or consideration for aught else in such circumstances, so you must listen to me and do exactly as I say if things are to be set aright."

The boy bowed his head in contrition, wondering of what grievous crime he was guilty and how it was to be rectified. Continued the King, "there are certain persons at whose feet can be placed most of the blame. Perhaps they are merely innocent in their intentions, but I fear rather that they are grasping for things not their own or worse, doing what they can to undermine and destroy this Kingdom. Will you do as I ask?"

"Without question or hesitation, Sire," said the Prince without pause, though there was a rising fear in his heart that his father might very soon ask the impossible of him. No, he was a just and wise King, if there were such scheming villains, surely they must be dealt with, but it would not involve anything dishonorable or ignoble, it couldn't.

"Very well," said the King, pleased by his son's swift obedience, "you will soon have dealings with a rather mysterious and dreadful character. Do as he suggests and all will be well." The boy frowned and the King added, "I know neither his face nor his name, but there will be no mistaking his presence when he comes. He has promised to see matters swiftly rectified and you will do everything in your power to aid him. Am I understood?"

The Prince bowed his head, sheer terror rising in his heart, but he said, "yes, Sire."

Said the King in dismissal, "let this be your first lesson in what it means to be King. We cannot always act as we wish and sometimes those dearest to us must suffer for the greater good. Sometimes we ourselves must suffer for the same reason." The boy sighed heavily, made the proper courtesies and hied himself swiftly from the room, wishing he could flee the Kingdom likewise.

He froze in a dark corridor as a voice hissed, "your father has apprised you of the situation?"

The boy shivered, saying in a hushed whisper, "yes, I am to do as you command."

"Excellent," hissed the voice that seemed to come from everywhere or nowhere, "this then is what you shall do..." The boy paled as the plot unfolded, but he had promised his father he would obey and he would not break his vow. The moment the creature finished speaking, Ithril turned on his heel and fled, hoping to reach the safety of solitude before the tears burst forth.

Said a second shadowy figure to the first once the boy was gone, "do you think he'll go through with it?"

"I believe he will," smiled the first maliciously.

The second frowned, "it would be far easier just to kill the wretch."

"Easier, certainly," said the first, "but far less satisfying. Why kill when you can corrupt? Despair is a far finer vintage than death ever is. Who knows? Perhaps he may soon join us." The pair shared a vile laugh before melting away like shadows in the midday sun.

"Of course I'll go for a ride with you, Sire," said Bayard the next morning, "but you seem in a rather grim mood this morning."

"Precisely why I need this little outing," said the Prince in dismay.

"But why bring the lady?" asked Bayard as they waited in the courtyard for Megan to accompany them, "Will this not just breed rumors that one or the other of us is intrigued by the mysterious maiden?"

"Strangely," sighed the Prince, "I believe this little adventure will lay all such rumors firmly to rest."

"As you say, Highness," said Bayard cautiously, "as you say." Just then Megan joined them and all chance of further conversation was lost in the fetching of horses and preparations for the ride.

Once they were outside the city, Megan asked of the grimly silent Prince, "what is it Sire? You are grim as death this morning, and on such a beautiful day too!"

"I am truly sorry," said the Prince quietly as he sharply drew rein, "but for the sake of the Kingdom, it was deemed necessary. Farewell, my friends!" He turned his horse and galloped back the way they had come, leaving Megan and Bayard to deal with the seedy bunch of rogues that had materialized out of the shrubbery and had surrounded the astonished pair.

"I don't understand?" said Megan, brandishing her sword warningly at the glaring and sneering ring of fiends, "Why go to all this trouble to kill us?"

Bayard nodded grimly, "I don't think it is us they are concerned about, rather imagine what such an act will do to the Prince's emotional and mental wellbeing."

"It will crush him utterly," said Megan in horror.

"Ours was perhaps the easier doom," sighed Bayard, hefting his own sword as the banditti closed in, but it was rather pointless, for his blade was useless against mortal men. They closed in and made short work of the pair, as they were being well paid to do, their work finished, they hied off with the horses and valuables, leaving their unfortunate victims lying in the road. The grisly scene was soon discovered and reported back to the King and all concerned parties. The guards were sent after the rogues while the deceased were given into the keeping of Aunt Irvina, she being the closest thing to kin that either of the victims possessed, and no more time or tears were wasted upon the loss of such trifling persons, save to gossip and speculate upon the matter.

"What of the Prince?" asked Bayard grimly of Aunt Irvina when they were quite alone and she could safely rouse the dead, "Such betrayal might well destroy him."

"Which is exactly what those shades are hoping," said the elder lady. She frowned, "how is it they coerced him into acting so; I did not think your friend possessed of such ignoble sensibilities?"

"They probably went to the King, who demanded a promise of his son's cooperation in the undisclosed scheme," said Bayard thoughtfully, "he would then be trapped between betraying us or his father, and we are obviously the lesser evil in the matter. They trapped him quite thoroughly."

"But can we not help him?" demanded Megan anxiously.

Irvina and Bayard exchanged a wry look, as Bayard said quietly, "we are supposed to be dead, remember?"

"We are at that," said the girl in astonishment, "I quite forgot!"

"Barely a day in this service and already you've forgotten the mortal perspective," laughed that dear lady, "but perhaps I can be of use amidst the Prince's grief?"

Bayard's eyes widened, "you think to importune the Prince?!"

"Certainly," said she with a chuckle, "what else are meddling Aunts for? But I suppose you might as well come as not, there's no sense in idling about here. Come along!" Her junior associates exchanged an eager smile and suddenly vanished from sight, following their uncanny captain out into the bustling streets like a pestiferous breeze, determined to muss up an intricate coif.

As they approached the castle, Bayard whispered, "the Prince is probably to be found in the wooded corner of the gardens, that's where he always flees when troubled or uneasy."

"Excellent," said Irvina, "then I don't have to harass the servants or start even more rumors." She was easily admitted to the castle and headed directly for the gardens and the woodsy nook therein, tensing immediately as she entered the shade thereof as she sensed several shades in the copse, no doubt making the Prince's misery even more bitter with their whispers of shame and despair.

He looked up with horrified eyes, red with weeping, an angry sneer suddenly marring his face, "what do you want?"

"What do you need?" asked she gently.

The Prince was agape, "do you not know that it was I who betrayed your nephew and protégé to their deaths?"

"You are the one who is suffering for it," said she quietly, "you and your father were tricked into this reprehensible situation, your friends were merely a means to an end, it is you the villains want to destroy, and the Kingdom with you."

"Those terrible voices?" pled the boy, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"The same," said she, "vile servants of evil, wholly devoted to death and destruction, corruption and misery and chaos."

"Enough hag!" spat the shadow, stepping out of the concealing gloom, "You walk a dangerous path, woman. Leave well enough alone and you need not regret it for all eternity!"

Ithril was on his feet, sword bared, growled he, "leave us, fiend!"

"Murderers and traitors are my rightful prey," hissed the shade, "you are mine little prince, whether you would or not! Come willingly and you will gain power such as few have ever dared dream, else you can be reduced to nothing at all, not even a memory."

"I want nothing more to do with you or yours," said the Prince in disgust, "I listened to you once, though only out of duty to my father, and it was nearly my undoing; I will not be such a fool again. Do your worst!"

"You can be assured we will," snarled the shadow, as its carefully crafted scheme fell to pieces before its very eyes, "but first we'll deal with this meddling old hag! Watch what awaits you in turn!"

They leapt upon her, at least six of the fiendish things, but she was as relaxed and cool as if she were taking tea in her own sitting room. A sword appeared inexplicably in her hand and she seemed no stranger to its proper use. The things howled and keened like a bag of sodden cats as her blade struck true, each evaporating like so much dark mist. She smiled broadly at so easy a triumph and turned back to the gaping Prince, saying with a light laugh, "not bad for a Great Aunt, eh lad?" He could not respond, for his eyes suddenly rolled upwards and his knees buckled. The sword vanished as suddenly as it had come as Irvina caught the fainted boy, laying him gently on the ground.

Bayard suddenly appeared, grinning wryly at the mystifying lady, before crouching beside the overwrought Prince, who blinked back slowly to consciousness, stared at Bayard, before lapsing again into blissful ignorance. The pair exchanged a knowing smile as Bayard tried to revive his friend. Ithril shook his head and glanced at the widely grinning pair and sighed, "am I dead or mad?"

"Neither Sire," said Bayard with a smile, "those pesky fairytales you always tease me about happen to be quite true and we are in the middle of one."

"Sword wielding female octogenarians, living shadows, and ghosts," said the Prince dryly, "a fairytale indeed! Does this mean I get to live happily ever after then?"

"That's up to you, Highness," interjected Aunt Irvina, "if you happen to know the Author, there'll be no doubt as to the ending, no matter how grim the story."

"Now you sound like him," said Ithril, eyeing Bayard skeptically, "I want no part of such nonsense!"

Bayard could not help but grin, "I don't think you really have a choice, Sire, as it seems intent on involving you whether you would wish it or not. All you can do is choose what to do with it: reject it utterly, join with the opposition, or accept it wholeheartedly."

"I'll think about it," sighed the Prince, "but first you had best tell me the whole story." He suddenly studied his feet and added, "and I hope you can forgive me..."

Bayard leapt upon his friend, laughing merrily as he hugged the disheartened Ithril, "don't be ridiculous, of course I forgive you, why else would I intercede on your behalf between you and a certain meddling Aunt, had I wanted revenge, I would have let her do as she liked with you." Ithril looked up with astonished eyes and Bayard added quietly, "besides, those villainous shadows were truly the death of me, not your seeming betrayal." Ithril sat down heavily as Bayard told him everything, Megan joined them, feeling there being little point in secrecy any longer. Aunt Irvina could only shake her head and sigh at the antics of her juniors, but a slight smile ruined the effect.

"What a dreadful muddle!" said Ithril at last, "Now what are we to do?"

"First you must be ready for anything, Sire," said that greatest of all aunts grimly, "particularly eternity, for those shades will not give up their prey once they've caught the scent. Which side are you on?"

"What if I don't choose?" shivered he, as if he already knew the answer.

"What happens to a Kingdom whose sovereign won't admit he's at war even when the enemy stands on his doorstep?" asked she.

"That's about what I thought," sighed he, "by not choosing, I choose death and darkness by default!"

"Well?" persisted Bayard.

Ithril actually smiled at his old friend, and then laughingly glanced at a certain auntish type person, "what would you choose with such a dangerous person staring you in the face?"

"She does have that effect on people," laughed Megan brightly, "welcome Home, Sire."

"Home," sighed Ithril wistfully, "what a lovely idea!" He shared a wondering smile with his companions, as if he had never realized before what true friendship and good company meant. His face fell, "but what of my father? These wretched shadows have been after him and he has no one to comfort and encourage him!"

"I believe that's your next adventure, my friend," said Bayard, offering the astonished Prince his hand. Ithril nodded grimly and took it, both vanished in truth, appearing again in the King's darkened study, a wretched, slumped form in the chair and several suspicious shadows whispering in the far corners.

"Father?!" cried Ithril, racing to the distraught man's side.

"My son!" said the King in wonder, "Can you forgive me? I have asked the impossible of you, and in your obedience, I have destroyed your noble heart and honorable sensibilities! What kind of a King can ask that of his own son?"

"Easy, Sire," said the boy brightly, "there is nothing to forgive! You have fallen under the influence of forces dark and terrible, little knowing their sinister plots and intentions beneath their honeyed words."

"Can nothing spare me, my Kingdom?" asked the King with a shudder.

"I can, Sire," said Bayard quietly, "do you wish these fell things gone?"

"With all my heart!" said the stymied King, "But they said you were dead!"

"I am beyond such paltry concerns as death, Highness," said the boy jovially, an excited glimmer of unearthly light running along the blade of his sword, "and soon enough your Kingdom shall be free of these fiends!" The shadows shrieked and snarled in their own fell tongue, but it little availed them against that horrid, glowing sword. The fiends banished, the candles sputtered back to life, leaving the King to glance around in wonder. Bayard bowed deeply, smiled brightly, and vanished, leaving father and son to discuss the most important things in life and beyond it.

Blood of Grapes

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 you 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 a summons 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 besides 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 to 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 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 grimly, 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 could remember 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 rectify 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 fair 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 content 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 is impossible. 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 frosty 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 cautioned 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 windows 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 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 upon 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 alighted 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 coldly 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 partake of the same pleasure with a different vintage? He came willingly, 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.

The elven guard led the boy deep into the bowels of the city; the boy mused in grim reverie, even in the basement the entire complex was composed solely of cold, white marble. They entered a grim little room and a white marble door closed behind them, much like the stone door of a tomb; the boy shuddered, knowing only how true that metaphor was to his present circumstance. A cold slab of the ubiquitous stone stood in the center of the room; the guard motioned for the boy to sit upon it and then handed him a cup, also of white marble, half full of a weedy smelling tea. "Poison?" said the boy in concern.

The elf shook his head impatiently at the boy's dithering, he had more important things to be about, but said, "something to make you sleep." The boy nodded grimly, swallowed the contents, made a horrid face at the bitter taste, and very soon lay sound asleep on the pallid bier. The elf cut the creature's throat, collected some of the blood in a goblet, and hastened to his lady with that grim wine, leaving one of the servile creatures to clean up the mess. The creature crept from the shadows in the corner of the room and stared in wonder at the prone form upon the slab, the spattered blood being the only color he had seen in a very long time. He shook himself and hurriedly went about his duties, eager at the chance of lingering once more in the mortal world for a time, rather than spending all eternity in this veritable tomb of a city. He tidied up the room and then bore the corpse out into the rising day.

Ithril stared about in wonder, having forgotten what a sunrise looked like during his century long interment in the elven city, especially one through a mist; he suddenly decided he could not go back to the haven he had willingly sought a hundred years ago, whatever its faults, the mortal world at least held some semblance of life and joy. There was nothing but dusty dreams and a deathlike silence of heart and mind to be found in the city below. Better to face the sorrow and death of the mortal world than willingly endure a tomblike existence whilst one yet lived. He turned saddened eyes upon the still form upon the brow of the hill, the creature had been willing to endure death that another might live. He smiled sadly, thinking this grief was the first real feeling he had felt in a hundred years, one felt nothing in the house of his half kin, neither sorrow nor joy. He shuddered at having willingly endured such an existence for so long. But what was to come of him? He had fled to the elves, hoping to find a place among them, and he had, of a sort, but only as a servant, a drudge, a common laborer who was tolerated but not accepted into their society.

Neither had he a place among mortal men, for they feared his elfin features as much as the elves despised his human heritage. He was a child of two worlds but belonged to neither. His mother had been an elf maiden, who had once strayed forth under the stars and beheld a small company of men gathered around a fire in the midst of the wildwood. She watched curiously from the shadows as the strange creatures sang and laughed and talked merrily of many things, for they were young and upon a happy errand. She wondered at this peculiar interaction, for never had she heard merriment or joyous song. Intrigued, she stepped into the firelight and drew all eyes to herself. Most of the company flinched back, but one bold youth stepped forward, bowed deeply to the vision, and said, "what service can we be to you fair maid?"

She said tremulously, "I greatly desire that which you have, but I know not its name?" So it was that she learned both of laughter and sorrow, of joy and tears. She could not go back to her people, for it seemed the sorrow of this grim sphere was far better than the bitterness and indifference of her former life. She married that bold youth and bore him a son, but died in the process. The fading mother said to her distraught husband ere she passed from the earth, "can you imagine a world of laughter and joy, untouched by sorrow and tears? Once I could not even imagine laughter, but you have taught me joy! Be content my love, the years are not long that separate us and then you shall join me in that strange and lovely land." She left him a little son that was all the man's joy, but her words proved true, for the lad was scarce old enough to take care of himself when his father too went the way of all flesh.

With nothing to hold him to the small farm now that his father was dead, the lad had set out into the world to see what it might hold for him, but men soon came to realize he was unlike themselves and drove him out from among them. In terror and despair, he sought out his elfin kin, only to find himself in the same dull straits his mother endured but she was at least a part of their kindred, he was merely tolerated as a drudge. He was miserable, but he was so numb he hardly knew it, but he was also safe. But sometimes the price of safety is too high. He stood upon the hill and smiled at the sun, as if he had just woken from a grim and interminable dream, which in all truth he had. He said to his unmoving companion, "at least you have commenced on that greatest of all journeys, in which my parents also have preceded me. What am I to do whilst I tarry in this mortal sphere?"

A magpie sitting amidst the bridal splendor of a flowering plum tree answered, "you must bear your companion to the ruins at the heart of the wood."

The half-elf stared at the bird, not surprised that a bird could talk, for such was not an uncommon occurrence in a fairy wood, but rather at the task set before him. But having nothing else with which to occupy himself, he smiled perplexedly, shrugged his shoulders, and took up the murdered youth; the bird had vanished. There was something about that avian scavenger that made his heart tremble with both joy and terror, something which hastened his steps towards the forsaken ruins that were his destination. As he marched along with his grim burden, he mused to himself on who the bird might be and what might betide in the supposedly haunted ruin. The elves did not much trouble themselves with anything outside their own city, save the occasional patrol sent on a scouting foray. Ithril tried to remember the tales his own father used to tell of the ruin, once the greatest city of men, but long ago it was devastated and men were scattered abroad. In the intervening years, a great and wondrous forest had grown up around it, in which many strange and terrific creatures now dwelt. Only in recent centuries had civilization encroached upon the borders of that long abandoned land. What great tragedy had driven men from their onetime capital to wander the wilderness and what lurked within its ruin, Ithril could not say.

The elvish half of his heart little feared the wraiths and legends of men, but his human heart trembled at disturbing the rest of the ancient dead, but he had been sent on this errand by one he dared not disobey and so he went. The deeper he wound into the forest, the stranger it became. The trees grew older and farther apart, little moved or grew between them; an almost sacrosanct hush was all about him. Ithril trembled, feeling as if he were some heathen vandal intent on mischief in the temple of a strange god, but thence he had been bidden and thence he would go. The trees towered above, casting the world into shadow, while their boles loomed liked great columns in the hall of some great king. Here and there, blinding in the relative gloom, rays of sunlight broke through a gap in the vast canopy. Nothing grew there except the trees and no mortal creature violated that sacred silence, except for an audacious halfbreed boy and his cargo of carrion.

At last many tumbled stones, carven and shapen by men long dead, announced the beginnings of the ruins Ithril so desperately sought. With growing dread, he approached the devastated castle with his grim burden, wondering what marvels or terrors might lurk within. He approached the gaping mouth where once splendid gates had stood, but none stood forth to challenge him so he dared go further until at last he stood in the very center of the grim edifice with no idea as to what next should be done. He thought it rather anticlimactic to simply leave the dead boy to molder among the desolate stones, but as these thoughts were perplexing him, tendrils of thin blue mist, streaked with the golden light of the rising sun, began to wend their way into the courtyard. Ithril thought to drop his burden and flee, but he turned to discover that he had no idea where either the wall or the gap in it were, the mist had engulfed everything. He laid the slain boy upon the quickly vanishing paving stones and backed as far as he could against the encroaching wall of mist, but found himself driven back towards the center where the dead prince lay.

The mist quickly surrounded the dead boy and trapped the living one in a space barely large enough for him to stand upright in. He felt that it could crush him if it had a mind to; he smiled at the incongruity of this uncanny fog having a mind of its own but knew there at least must be a will behind it, for this was no mindless weather of the mortal world. He had lost sight of his erstwhile, though silent, companion in the mist and in wondering at his own fate. But suddenly he glimpsed the boy again, or perhaps his ghost, for he was standing of his own volition; the unnatural mist drew back slightly as the boy emerged from its embrace and allowed its two occupants to face one another at a comfortable distance. Though Ithril was far from comfortable with all that had happened since he had entered this eerie place, he was not sure whether to eagerly greet his companion or cry out in terror. The seeming wraith much eased his companion's fears by laughing warmly, not a gesture one would think a ghost capable of. Ithril took a deep, steadying breath and smiled wanly, in hopes his companion might have a solution to his current predicament.

They studied one another for a few moments before Ithril gasped out, "who or what are you?"

The boy smiled wondrously, as one wakening from the sleep of death, "I hardly know." He looked up, joy in his eyes, but said calmly, "but I am myself. What of you?"

The half-elf smiled wryly and snorted, "me? I hardly know. I have done that which I was bidden but know no more of my future than when I stood questioning it on a distant hill."

Bayard glanced about wistfully, "you can go if you wish."

Ithril looked about and saw the strange mist thinning in a certain spot and knew he could return to the normal, mortal world, but something stayed his flight; he was not sure he wanted to. Said he, "what hold has the world on my heart? I am a stranger, a wanderer, an outcast there. I know not what strange world I have entered here but something about it holds me in thrall, I would know more if I could?"

The boy shook his head, "you cannot know more, at least not as you are."

Ithril cocked his head, "what do you mean?"

Bayard smiled mysteriously, "some secrets cannot be told to creatures that yet dwell upon the mortal earth. If you would know more, you must forsake your former home."

Ithril nodded eagerly, "this will I gladly do."

Bayard said grimly, "do you truly wish it to be thus?"

Ithril, hearing the warning in the boy's voice, said boldly, "be it unto me even as I have spoken. I will face what I must, even death."

Bayard said solemnly but with much joy beneath, "death is but a door my friend, enter it if you will."

The boy faded into the shrouding mist, leaving Ithril to stare about in confusion for a moment before the mist engulfed him utterly. This was no natural fog, and as such, it contained no air and quickly asphyxiated anyone silly enough to think he might venture into the midst of it. Such was the fate that quickly overtook Ithril, neither was the mist content with his demise, for it quickly absorbed his mortal frame into itself as well. What came of the boy himself in the intervening moments, no words exist to describe, but soon enough he felt coherent again, though for a few moments he was merely a conscious part of the boundless fog, but suddenly he knew that he could be more. He stood again, within the confines of the fog, as Bayard had done upon his first appearance; Ithril's smile was joy itself. Bayard materialized beside him, they exchanged an eager grin as the mist faded away, and they found themselves again in the midst of the crumbling castle under the boughs of ancient trees.

Grinned Ithril, "this will certainly be an adventure!" Bayard's return smile said more than words ever could. They both faded away like mist before the morning sun.

The elfin Queen paced the floor of her immaculate chambers, more discontent than ever. For one glorious moment she remembered Joy and Wonder, as she had known them in the forgotten years before the Sundering, but as she drained that forbidden cup, she felt all the bitterness of her world crushing in around her anew, as if she tasted of the dregs after quaffing the finest wine ever made. She knew the cost, should she dare what she had done, but felt it worth the price; now she was not so sure. It was an addictive brew and a dangerous one, the cost of that one moment of sheer pleasure would be to strip each moment thereafter of what little luster it had before slaking her unholy thirst; she would long for that forbidden joy and the ache would tempt and tease her until at last she gave in anew, each indulgence drawing her deeper into a pit dark and terrible. She was utterly wretched, it was as if she had drunk sea water to slake her thirst, it would only make her thirstier and eventually destroy her, but she felt the urge to be unbearable and wondered how next to satisfy her horrid but desperate longing.

She suddenly ceased her pacing and stared daggers at the insolent fowl that dared invade her privacy. He sat unconcernedly on the arm of her throne, preening himself as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Once he had her attention, he said gravely, "what you are considering will only worsen your plight."

She hissed, "this is all your fault! If you had not made such silly rules, none of this would have happened!" The magpie cocked his head and she quivered in terror, muting her insolence, but continuing, "how can you expect any reasonable creature to live up to such strictures and to be happy therein?"

He shook his head sadly, "some hearts will never be content to live thus, as your people and the forefathers of men amply demonstrate, whereas I intended my rules to promote joy rather than mute it. Things forbidden are only those things that thwart joy rather than bring it. But some stubborn hearts are convinced that there is something I am trying to hide or prevent them from experiencing, but they are free to experience it, but must also accept the consequences of venturing where it is forbidden to tread. Breaking the rules brings sorrow and guilt, dwelling disconsolately within the rules brings bitterness and misery, abiding contently within brings peace and joy. It is your attitude towards the forbidden that decides your fate not the strictures themselves."

She sniffed scornfully, "and is there no hope for those of us who fail?"

Said he quietly, "of course there is hope, but one must be willing to seek it out, to find it. One must accept the same attitude that is required to live peaceably within the bounds in order to reenter them. I offer you the solace you seek but refuse to take. There is a way out of your current dilemma but you must desire it above all things. For now, you truly desire that which you know will destroy you. Remember my words when things grow dark indeed." And he was gone.

She scowled at the place the magpie had vacated but soon a grim smile marred her lips. She summoned the captain of her guard and outlined her plans. His face remained neutral but his heart quailed at what it was his lady asked. Her eyes sparkled in malicious anticipation as he made the proper courtesies and went to enact the first of her orders.

The captain was uneasy, knowing he dared his lady's wrath should he disobey but also knowing that being complicit in what was to come was nothing short of murder, even be it of lesser souls. Her first victim had been acquired justly within the laws of the elfin folk, even if the laws themselves were rather unjust and severe in themselves, the creature had come willingly and knew the price he would pay, but such victims were scarce and would never be enough to quench the Queen's growing bloodlust. She must somehow overcome this vile temptation or her crimes would only grow more numerous and more terrible. The captain shook his head and frowned, staring at the floor as he made his way deeper into the bowels of the city, still intent on his errand but quite uneasy in his heart. If he was complicit in this he might as well be sharing in the vile cup his lady demanded he fill, but he did not want to drink that wicked brew nor be the vintner who provided it. But could he dare his lady's wrath to disobey? Which was worse, her vengeance or the consequences for what he was about to commence? The former might well cost him his life but the latter would consume his soul. He sighed heavily, not knowing what to do. The approach of feet drew his attention away from his grim introspection. He looked up into the eyes of his intended victim.

The captain's frown deepened with perplexity, there was something downright odd about the half-elf's eyes, but then who had ever bothered to look deeply into the pathetic creature's gaze before? Said the boy to the captain, as if speaking to an equal, another thing quite unheard of, "you need not go through with this." The captain sighed in resignation, not knowing or caring how the creature knew of his dilemma but at last feeling at peace with his decision. The halfbreed stretched out a hand and the captain took it gladly, wondering with what fell magic the creature had enchanted him. They melted away as a retreating fog. The Queen was nearly out of her mind with anticipation and sent a servant to inquire after what was taking so long in the fulfillment of her orders. She was aghast and furious that the captain and her intended victim had vanished without a trace. In a rage, she called for her second in command, who immediately presented himself before the grim lady. He had not the queasiness of his former captain and smiled with grim pleasure when the lady made known her wishes.

While the Queen was busy with her schemes, Bayard and Ithril were busy with the nameless minions that served as veritable slaves in the elfin kingdom, among whom Ithril had once been numbered. They spoke quickly and quietly with each, warning them of the danger they would soon face and reminding them of the strange, wonderful world without, of which they might still be a part. Many were eager to know joy and sunshine once more, and needed only a reminder that such concepts truly existed away from those joyless halls. Others would rather risk this supposed threat than breaking out of the emotional tomb in which they had willingly interred themselves. And still others cared for nothing but a roof, regular meals, and a bed, and were unwilling to jeopardize their current stability for so unlikely a possibility, for nothing had ever changed in that peculiar realm and they assumed it never would. Those willing to go, were spirited away by one of the pair, just as the captain had escaped his lady's wrath. The rest were left to face whatever was to come, as they wished to be. At least until the new Captain came for one of their number and marched him into the Queen's chambers, where she intended to have him slaughtered like a sheep in her very presence.

The trembling, horrified man cried out in despair as he was led away, at last realizing his folly, which elicited a sudden change of heart in many of his fellows, now knowing that the harbingers of what seemed utter folly had only spoken too truly. The spotless corridors were suddenly filled with that unearthly blue mist, streaked all through with brilliant golden light. Those now wishing to escape their plight, found their saviors therein and were soon whisked to safety, while those intent on evil were temporarily blinded by the brilliance and impeded by the fog, for they knew it very death to venture into it, thus was the captive freed and many of the onetime dissenters rescued. A few hardened souls refused this second chance at rescue and one of these unfortunates was duly escorted into the presence of the Queen, who watched in cruel delight as the fell deed was done and her terrible cup filled at last. Looking up from her dreadful repast, she said to her captain, "we will very soon run out of volunteers, thus we will need to find an alternative source. Let our laws be changed, for too long have mortals walked unwittingly within our borders, let such trespassing henceforth be anathema." She smiled grimly, "and punishable by death. Bring all such before me." The captain bowed deeply, before withdrawing to inform his men.

"Now what?" asked the stymied elfin captain of Ithril as they stood upon a starlit hill on the verge of the forest after the former's rescue.

Said the boy, "you must find your place in the world or beyond it."

The former captain sighed heavily, still mystified by all that had assaulted his overwrought sensibilities in the last few hours, "I cannot return to my people, I will not likely be welcomed amongst mankind, what then remains?"

The boy smiled in an infuriatingly mysterious fashion, "you could Return."

The elder elf gaped at the younger, "I thought that was just a story!" He scratched his chin thoughtfully for a moment, "but then I have seen enough strange things tonight that I suppose one more legend come to life should not surprise me. I will consider it. Thank you for your help." But the boy was gone.

As each of the former elfin servants was rescued from their erstwhile mistress' vile intentions, Bayard and Ithril parted with each at exactly the place and time their next adventure would begin, but cautioned each, "tell all you meet that the Fairy Wood is now off limits to mankind. Trespassers will find themselves sating your former lady's bloodlust." Each shivered upon hearing these parting words, but left their rescuer with an eager sense of things about to happen. It might have simply been the brush of a fresh wind on their face or the glory of sun or stars overhead when they had not felt or seen such things for a very long time, or perhaps some innate part of their being just knew that life was a grand adventure, one they had dropped out of for a time, but were now more than eager to resume. Whatever it was, they hastened on and word spread far and wide of the dangers now inherent within that grim wood. Few had ventured thither in former days, uncomfortable with the uncanny feel of the place, especially at its heart, but now none but outlaws and those seeking the thrill of danger dared to tread its paths.

Their first quest accomplished, the pair found themselves again standing amidst the dust and shadows of the ancient fortress; they exchanged an excited grin and then glanced about in anticipation, feeling that something was about to happen. Their very beings tingled with expectation. And then a little bird flitted from one of the great overarching boughs and hopped about upon a broken wall. This would have been rather anticlimactic had this bird been merely a bird, but rather it was the chosen guise of he that had invented birds, and everything else, in the first place. Their hearts leapt for joy within them as they realized Who this little fowl was and were soon on their knees before Him. He eyed them in cheerful amusement as He hopped about on the crumbling stone, saying brightly, "things will grow far worse with the elfin Queen ere matters are resolved. For now you shall stand between her schemes and those that might unwittingly fall afoul of them. As with that grim lady's servants, you can only aid those who wish to be rescued. If her intended victims refuse your help, you can do nothing to aid them. Farewell!" The pair exchanged an eager look as they gained their feet and left the confines of the castle to be about the quest that was set them.

Remedial Education

The moon was bright overhead, illuminating the mist that crept blindly over the face of the water while the night itself was alive with the strange and eerie cries of the marsh denizens in the thrall of courtship. It was a strange place for a meeting, knee deep in cold, slimy water, but he'd had stranger in his long and varied career, but this one would prove the most peculiar by far. The Captain materialized suddenly, seemingly out of the mist itself, smiled a greeting at his waiting underling, but frowned slightly, as if something was slightly amiss. He shrugged and raised a glowing hand, immediately rectifying the situation as another man appeared out of thin air in a brilliant flash.

The newcomer grinned sheepishly at both of the others, the Captain's eyes sparkled in amusement at the other's tardiness, a strange occurrence in this profession where time meant nothing, but rather addressed the reason that brought them together, "I have a mission for you gentlemen, but nothing like you've ever done before." The minions exchanged an intrigued smile, for there was not much they hadn't done during their extensive and peculiar careers, but they gazed eagerly at the Captain and he continued, "the world is changing, and we must change with it or become obsolete." They did not like the sound of that, not in the least, but there was nothing to be done in the matter but go forward or vanish beyond the confines of time and space forever, and as neither showed any sign that that was imminent, the Captain finished, "you are going to start a school."

"A school?!" said Kipril in astonishment.

"That's about how I thought you would take it," chuckled the Captain, "but that is the way the world now works. Education is considered a vital part of a young person's development, at least amongst the moderately well off amongst society's strata."

"But we've never recruited that way," protested Bayard.

The Captain shook his head, "we are not founding a school for Messengers, lad, though we will likely find a few recruits amongst the students, rather it is to promulgate and disseminate the Story amongst those who might otherwise never hear it. That has always been our primary function, no matter our other, more interesting assignments, for without that there is no point in anything else at all."

Bayard grinned as ruefully as Kipril had in discovering himself tardy for this strange meeting, "that's a relief, for I did not look forward to explaining to distraught relatives why our students kept inexplicably vanishing. A school with such attrition could in nowise long endure."

They shared a good laugh, and the Captain said, after he had regained the use of his faculties, "off with you lads, you have your orders!" They saluted smartly and he vanished as suddenly as he had come, leaving the pair to discuss the matter at length, for such an assignment had never been given in all the long history of that odd profession.

"So we're just to hang up our swords and take up a piece of chalk?" said Kipril worriedly.

"I doubt it will come to that," laughed Bayard, "else this assignment would have fallen to His mortal servants. There's a reason we are being asked to establish this project. I do not think the Enemy and his minions will take very kindly to the idea and will do anything and everything in their power to undermine our efforts."

Kipril grinned in spite of himself, "I suppose I can manage as long as there are occasional assassination attempts or undead monsters stalking the halls to keep things interesting."

"Have you ever known this profession to be anything but?" queried Bayard with a grin.

"It has at that," said Kipril wholeheartedly, "let's be about it then!" They exchanged an eager smile and vanished as suddenly as their Captain, leaving the bullfrogs and rails to their unearthly din.

"I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't the best school in the Province," said one lad to another over their midday meal.

"What do you mean?" queried the other.

"The price is utterly ridiculous," retorted his companion.

The other frowned in consternation, "but it doesn't cost anything?"

"Precisely," agreed the first, "how can an education be worthwhile if it doesn't cost anything?" Persisted he, "my family is wealthy and they use that money to gain standing and influence, how can something that costs nothing gain either then?"

"Such matters are far beyond me," grinned the second, returning his attention to his food, "I'm just happy to have the chance, as I certainly could never afford such a luxury in my own right and I have no parents to pay for the privilege either."

"No money or connections?!" said the other in surprised disgust.

"Only an ancient aunt of penurious means," replied Kyan, "I'm afraid you've chosen your seat mate ill for this meal."

"It's what comes of a free education I suppose," sighed Tyne, "though I have spent worse half hours."

"Indeed?" queried Kyan, "My ignomious background hasn't turned your stomach?"

The other grinned in spite of himself, "I am only mildly queasy."

"I always thought the true measure of a person is who they are on the inside," postulated Kyan, "and has very little to do with means or birth."

"Perhaps in peasant circles those things matter," sneered Tyne contemptuously, "but to the elite, they are meaningless."

"Are they?" asked Kyan with a quizzical frown.

Said Tyne a tad anxiously, "or so I have always been taught."

Kyan smiled impishly, breaking the serious spell that had caught his companion, saying lightly, "but then I suppose that is what we are here to learn."

"I suppose it is at that," sighed Tyne in relief at the sudden change in subject away from that disquieting thought, "had we not best return to class?"

The school took up the majority of a rambling old manor house, including its various outbuildings and extensive grounds. About fifty lads called the place home at any given time; the student body was continuously in flux as lads left for various reasons while new students replaced them. The staff was rather minimal, consisting almost entirely of the two itinerant teachers. How the affair kept fiscally afloat, none knew, but what none even dreamed of asking, for it had never occurred to anyone to even question so pedestrian a matter, was how all the cooking, cleaning, grounds management, and the like were ever accomplished. The boys had chores of course, but even their most valiant efforts were far from keeping such an operation functioning from day to day. But as it was accomplished efficiently and none thought to ask, the mysterious attainment thereof continued unnoticed by all and sundry as it had from the school's founding.

It was a place where all were welcome to study and free to leave when they felt themselves content or discontent with their studies; it had gained for itself the reputation of the best education in the Province, no matter that it was also the cheapest, and certainly priceless at that. Most did not notice the more mysterious aspects of the school, for they were busy about their own concerns and had little notice or interest in aught else, but there was no hiding everything from everyone.

Tyne and Kyan had become friends after their fortuitous lunchtime meeting, though the former was still somewhat uneasy about the latter's lack of fortune, at least in this strange place he was able to put the matter out of his mind far easier than he had anticipated, and for a time, they could simply be boys together.

"It's uncanny," broached Kyan one day to Tyne as they sat on the lawn going over a certain old book together.

"Our friendship?" grinned Tyne dryly.

"Yes, that," smiled Kyan in return, "but more so this place."

"What of it?" asked Tyne with a shrug and a yawn, stretching his arms, he rose and closed the book.

"Haven't you noticed there are no servants or laborers yet we get our meals thrice a day," said Kyan in surprise at his companion's indifference, "they ask for no money yet have funds to pay for food, supplies, and this vast estate?"

"I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation," said Tyne with another yawn, "who cares as long as we benefit from it? Besides, we do enough odd jobs around here that it must count for something."

"We might wash dishes and muck stalls," agreed Kyan, "but who does the cooking, cleaning, and mending?"

"Perhaps we have fallen in with a sorcerer with a philanthropic streak?" laughed Tyne outright at his own supposition, "Even if we have, what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know," said Kyan, "but I plan on getting to the bottom of it."

"What happens if you discover something you can't stomach?" asked Tyne worriedly, "At least our ignorance gives us no regrets."

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it," said Kyan determinedly, "but there's just something uncanny going on around here and I mean to find out exactly what it is."

"You don't actually believe that old rumor about students just disappearing, do you?" said Tyne uneasily, suddenly wondering if there was more to this than Kyan's fancy imagined.

"What rumor?" asked Kyan, suddenly as intense as a cat watching a mouse.

"You've only been here a little while so I suppose no one's told you or maybe they thought that I had beat them to it, but how ever it may be, long before I ever got here, there were already rumors circulating that every so often a student would just vanish with no explanation or excuse," said Tyne, "one day he'd be there, the next he'd be gone with no one having seen him leave or him ever talking about leaving."

"Students come and go all the time," said Kyan, "who would notice or care if I suddenly decided to go back to my poor old aunt tomorrow?"

"I would," said Tyne, a little annoyed at his friend's seeming indifference to what he thought was a rather magnanimous gesture in being his friend at all.

Kyan smiled ruefully, "sorry, that's not what I meant. Would anyone besides you care? What of other students in like circumstances with no friends at all? They could be gone a week before anyone would likely notice, if ever!"

"I suppose that's a possibility," mused Tyne, "but that has not been the case in all instances, or so I've heard, some people of real significance have just vanished with no clue as to how or where."

"If that is true," posited Kyan, "would not their friends or kin have made a fuss about it? How is it the school remains open and maintains a good reputation if such vanishments have truly happened? Did the students involved not merely just go home unannounced or unexpectedly, perhaps at a strange hour of the night due to some emergency?"

"Good questions all," said Tyne, "but I have no more answers than hearsay."

"Then we'd best talk to someone who does know," mused Kyan, "the teachers wouldn't be of any help, for they might be in on it and we don't want to arouse suspicion in that quarter. Are there any longtime students you might recommend? There aren't any other staff to speak of nor anyone else who might have been here from the beginning who might be considered objective. It will have to be a student, but who?"

"I know a couple of the oldest boys have been here a long time," said Tyne, "they are from rather obscure backgrounds and don't have much to go home to, thus they've hung about wondering what to do next."

"You're willing to speak with more obscure personages for my sake?" queried Kyan, quite impressed.

"More for my own," laughed Tyne, "you've got me curious and perhaps it might even be vital for my own survival when it comes right down to it. Let's go!"

At supper they sat at a table with a pair of the oldest students upon the premises, who had been there since very nearly the beginning. Queried Tyne of the vastly curious lads, as to why such an auspicious person, at least in the outer world, was even deigning to speak to such non-entities as themselves, "what can you tell us of this rumor about sudden and mysterious vanishments? Have you noticed anything else strange going on around here?"

"Starting to notice things, are you?" smiled the first enigmatically.

"Not good," said the other with a grim shake of his head, "that's when you're most likely to disappear, poof!"

Not to be put off by their antics, Kyan persisted, "how have you two old relics survived then?"

"We don't look too closely," said the glum fellow on the right.

"But what have you seen?" insisted Kyan.

"It's what we don't see," said the mysterious fellow on the left.

"Quite true," agreed Kyan, "I don't see anyone making meals for instance and your vanished students are quite certainly gone, if the rumors be true. What haven't you seen? Are the rumors true?"

"Some of them," confided the enigmatical one, "some are mere hearsay, a student leaving without announcement or fanfare and nothing more. But some have simply vanished."

"Why has there been no outcry or unrest?" asked Tyne with a frown.

"I don't know," shrugged the man of mystery, "that you'll have to take up with their kin."

"What of the meals?" queried Kyan, hoping for a more fruitful angle of attack.

"They just happen," grinned the lad quite vexingly, "I like to be fed, I don't ask questions as to its origins."

"Can you help us with anything?" sighed Kyan in dismay.

"Not if we don't want to go poof!" moaned the saturnine fellow. The boys exchanged a knowing look, thanked their companions for their trouble, finished their meal in silence, and then withdrew to their room, early enough that their roommates wouldn't intrude upon them for some hours.

"What now?" asked Tyne, "We know about as much as we knew before this conversation."

"We can either investigate the matter ourselves," mused Kyan, "or go straight to the source."

"Well there isn't anything to see," said Tyne, "if our informants can be believed so I don't know how you plan to accomplish the former? And I have no intention of doing the latter and going inexplicably poof!"

"I know," sighed Kyan morosely, "but I must get to the bottom of this, poof! or not. I'm going to talk to our teachers tonight, are you with me?"

"No," said Tyne quietly, "one of us had better stay behind in case things actually do go poof!"

Kyan nodded grimly, "good idea, if something happens to me, you can see that something is done about it." He smiled sadly, "though I had hoped for a friend beside me if..."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Tyne gruffly, "nothing's going to happen."

"Exactly," smiled Kyan a little nervously, "I'm just going to have a little chat with our teachers and that's all." He gave his friend what he hoped was a determined look, but it might be what a sheep looks like when facing down a wolf, and headed immediately for the office wherein their teachers were to be found at all hours when they weren't actually teaching.

He knocked quietly on the door, ready to fly if no one opened the door in the next moment, but alas that is exactly what happened. "What can we do for you lad?" came the genial voice of one of his teachers. With a resigned sigh, as if mounting the gallows, he allowed himself to be ushered into the little chamber. It was a comfortable room, full of books, mismatched furniture, and a cheery blaze upon the hearth, if these were murderous fiends, they had odd taste in accommodations, homey as it was.

Said Kyan without preamble, ready to have it over, one way or another, "I want to know the truth." They made no reply, but seemed to be waiting for him to continue, their keen eyes sparkling in anticipation and what might be vast amusement, though carefully hidden so as not to upset his frazzled sensibilities. After a deep breath, he added, "I've noticed things, or rather I haven't, what is going on? How is it there are just the two of you to keep this place running despite no obvious income and what of these vanished students?"

"Noticing things, are we?" grinned Bayard, but in such an open and honest way that it could in nowise be mistaken for anything sinister or vile or a preamble to going poof!

"I will say that your observations are not without merit, lad," agreed Kipril, "but what will you do with that knowledge?"

"What do you mean?" frowned the boy in consternation.

"What will knowing our secrets do for your own situation?" added Kipril, "Will you leave for your own protection or sanity or do you want to go deeper in, to know more and more until you're so far in there's no going back?"

"You are not afraid that I might reveal your secrets to the world, betray you?" queried the completely flummoxed boy.

They both laughed at this, such honest, happy mirth that the lad's heart ached to have his part in it, but Bayard soon sobered and said, "what secrets there are, are not ours to keep, and are quite obvious to anyone who knows where and how to look. At best, no one will believe you and at worst they'll think you mad or a liar, what have we to fear in that, though it might be quite ruinous to your own life and reputation and we would spare you that."

"I don't know what my reaction will be," said the boy honestly, "until I know the full tale behind it, for good or ill."

"There's naught of ill about it," said Kipril solemnly, "save that which creeps in from without."

"Speaking of which!" said Bayard suddenly, eyeing Kipril in alarm.

"I feel it," agreed Kipril, gripping his sword as he gained his feet, "you stay with the lad, I'll see about this uninvited guest." With that he vanished, Kyan's mouth dropped open in astonishment, as if he meant to eat Bayard whole.

Bayard smiled wryly, "quit gaping lad, I thought you came in here looking for answers?"

"I...I...only have more questions!" stuttered the boy in confusion.

"And you'll find no answers here, boy!" spat a new and sinister voice, bringing all eyes to focus on the fiend, for there could be no other description for such a vision.

"Get behind me lad," said Bayard quietly, reaching for his sword, but even this slight movement was provocation enough for the dark mage to act, unleashing a ball of black flame that reduced the Messenger to nothingness, not even a sooty stain upon the floor.

The boy's eyes were huge and time seemed to be moving in painful slowness, as the fiend unsheathed a wicked black dagger and approached the boy with ominous steps, nearly chanting as he walked, "would you know more, boy? Would you be a keeper of secrets rather than one ignorant of them? Would you have power and prestige and wealth beyond mortal dreaming? I will give it to you and more, if you will but agree to accompany me?"

"No," shivered the boy in utmost fear but somehow managing to spit out the words, "I want nothing to do with you or yours, now or ever."

"That is a very foolish thing to say," scorned the fiend, the dagger flashing in the firelight, "but it is of no matter, as are you." It laughed dreadfully and faded from the boy's perception, not that he was in any shape to observe anything at the moment.

Kipril appeared instantly after the fiend had wrought its havoc, to find nothing in the room but the villain's most recent handiwork. He knelt beside the prone and bleeding boy, relieved to find a pulse, if weak and thready. He sent a pulse of light into the senseless form, driving the fog from his mind and the pain from his body, but the damage remained, if less immediately deadly. "What happened?" panted the miserable Kyan.

"I was about to ask you the same question," said Kipril quietly, "it appears that you've been stabbed with a rather ghastly weapon."

"That fiendish thing appeared right after you left, it launched a ball of black fire at your friend before stabbing me when I wouldn't go with it," gasped the boy, feeling like he tottered on the edge of a bottomless abyss and even the least breath of wind might topple him in.

"You made the right choice," said Kipril, "else the next time we met, you'd be no different than the villain who inflicted this wound."

"You don't seem too upset by your friend's demise," panted the boy.

Kipril shook his head and smiled wistfully, "we're made of sterner stuff than that lad, don't worry about him. You on the other hand, are not."

"I know," gasped the boy, "what is to come of me?"

"You were curious about those mysterious disappearances, were you not?" said Kipril emphatically.

The boy could not help but smile, groaning as he did so, but asking wryly, "you are telling me they were each of them murdered by fiendish mages?"

"Not exactly," said Kipril with a shake of his head, "but they agreed to a similar fate, if a less painful means."

"They're dead," sighed the boy, "that's it?"

"Certainly not," laughed Kipril, "death is but the door. One you are soon going to walk through one way or another, whether you would or not. You wouldn't go with the fiend, but will you come with me?"

"Yes," said the boy with his fading breath, "I want whatever it is you keep hinting at but have yet to tell me a thing about..." He trailed off and would have slumped to the floor with glazing eyes, had not Kipril unveiled a terrible light that reduced them both to so much nothingness.

"Where have you two been?" said Bayard in wonder, looking up from his book to study the errant pair that simply walked back into the comfortable old sitting room, as if they hadn't been missing for several hours after the advent of an undead mage in the complex.

Kipril grinned from ear to ear while Kyan just glanced in confusion from one to the other, still having no comprehension of what was happening. Said the incorrigible Messenger to his comrade, "don't you know it is unwise to leave mortals unsupervised when undead fiends are skulking about?"

"It was rather an inopportune moment to find myself elsewhere, I suppose," said Bayard, seemingly intent on returning to his book, "and as it seems neither of you is the worse for it, it is of little matter."

"How can you be so calm?!" said the boy at last, "That thing nearly killed me!"

"Relax lad," chuckled Kipril, "it can only kill you once, after that it can merely inconvenience you."

"You can't be serious?!" said the boy in either astonishment or horror, probably both.

Bayard shut his book with a thump and stood, offering the boy his hand in greeting, saying with a broad grin, "welcome to the Messengers."

The boy shook the proffered hand and smiled wanly, but then sat abruptly and stared up plaintively at his companions, "please tell me this is just a horrid dream?"

"Sorry lad," said Kipril with a shake of his head, "I was there, and while horrid, it was no dream."

"But I'm not ready for this, whatever it is, I don't want to be like this, I just want things to be, well, normal!" said the boy plaintively.

"You can always Go," said Bayard quietly, "and see what lies beyond this broken mortal sphere."

"That wasn't what I meant," said the boy faintly, "can't I just go back to how things were earlier this evening?"

"Sorry lad," said Kipril, "that's not how it works. If you had choked on your food at supper or fallen out of bed and broken your neck, would you feel any different?"

The boy could not help but grin at the incongruity of the conversation, said he with an actual, heartfelt smile, "I suppose death is death, no matter how it comes but it is still quite a shock to one's sensibilities, though I suppose most in the postmortem state don't get the chance to contemplate the phenomenon from this angle?"

"That they don't lad," said Kipril, jovially slapping him on the back, "and we old hands at this often forget what it was like the first time around, forgive our ignorance and oversight, lad."

"And you must forgive my shock and dismay upon discovering my curious circumstances," agreed the lad ruefully.

"There's nothing to forgive, lad," said Bayard warmly, "we've all been there, if only we'd remember it, but soon enough this will all be second nature and you'll wonder what all the fuss was about."

"So what now?" asked the boy, "Do I just mysteriously disappear like all the rest or do I get drafted into your educational experiment as the newest teacher in residence, if that's what we do in this peculiar occupation?"

"Neither," grinned Bayard, "you were quite right to bring your concerns over the rumored disappearances to us, we had no idea the hearsay was so bad, though we certainly had no notion of likewise drafting you into it! But now that we are aware of the situation, it seems we must be more careful in how we portray your exodus from this institution, but I do not believe it must be done quite yet. Neither is teaching a requisite or even usual skill amongst us, though you'll be equipped for whatever is asked of you, you need not fear you've been assigned indefinitely to us as a teacher's aide!"

"I believe Bayard has the right of it, lad," nodded Kipril, "and you'll even get your wish, somewhat at least, and get to go back to your room and classes as if nothing has happened."

"But that's not what I want anymore!" protested Kyan, "I finally understand that I'm now part of the biggest conspiracy stalking the mortal sphere and you tell me I must go back to being just another student?"

"Easy lad," chuckled Kipril, "nothing has changed or will change about your current status or position, we're merely asking you to go back to your usual role until we can sort this little matter out, for there's far more to this than one rogue mage intent on a night's mischief. You can see, hear, and do things as a student which we never could."

"That's different," grinned Kyan, ear to ear, "you said nothing about me getting to spy on our enemies and perhaps even foiling their plots, I thought I was doomed to an eternity of remedial education."

"Come now lad," laughed Kipril, "we aren't that cruel, a mortal lifetime of such penance is sufficient for anyone."

"Very well," agreed the boy, not hiding his eager grin, "I'll do it, but only because otherwise you'd devise something worse for me."

Bayard laughed aloud, "come lad, I don't think there is anything worse than listening to us prattle on, world without end!"

When their mirth had died down, Kyan asked curiously, "so what did happen to the others in like circumstances? Was there no fallout from the surviving kith and kin?"

Kipril shook his head, "each situation was different, lad, each was as unique as the person involved. Some had no kin to speak of, while the seeming disappearance of others must have been handled in such a way as to leave said kin in no way uneasy upon the matter, for we have heard nothing of it, and as such matters are beyond the scope of our current duties, we must trust that such matters will be addressed as they must by others, and you must learn to do the same."

Sighed the boy, "it seems I have much to learn!"

Kipril grinned, "then why were you just complaining about a remedial education?" The boy could only shake his head in wonder at what could only be more enigmas to come.

He made his way back to his room in the small hours of the morning, strangely not tired and able to find his way without a candle through the darkest corridors, but he had no time to marvel at this, for he felt something calling keenly for his attention, and faster than thought, he was there, little knowing how he managed it, but one moment he was creeping down the hall towards his room and the next he was standing in the very middle of it. "You!" spat the fiend, "I thought I had quite settled your meddling in my master's affairs, permanently!"

"You thought wrong, villain," said the boy evenly, no longer terrified of this horrid thing, whose very presence made mortal flesh creep in horror, "be gone!" And with a simple thrust of his sword, it was. But where had the sword come from and how did he know how to use it? The night had begun with questions and now it ended with more. He glanced about to make sure his roommates were still asleep and then vanished back to the place where this whole adventure had begun to make his report.

"This will never do!" said Bayard, with a knowing smile at Kipril, after the lad had finished his brief report, "I'm sure the thing will be back, and as he knows all of us are not what we appear to be, we'd best find someone to counter him whom he'd never suspect."

"A new student?" asked the boy in puzzlement.

"No," said Kipril, a strange impish delight in his eyes, "he'd have no influence or standing among the other students just yet and would little avail us."

"What is it you are not saying?" asked Kyan anxiously, not liking the mischievous air of his comrades in the least, knowing it likely boded ill for his next adventure.

"Just go find yourself an agent amongst the more permanently established students," grinned Bayard, not even trying to hide his vast amusement.

"That sounds impossible!" protested Kyan.

Kipril grinned the more, "everything in this business is, lad, but then our Master is in the miracle business, so what's that to Him?"

Said the boy thoughtfully, "it is He that provides, not my meager efforts that succeed?"

"Now you're getting it lad!" said Bayard, clapping him on the back, "Though we must certainly do what we know we must, victory is His and we need not worry about the means, for what is needed will be provided."

Said Kyan, now grinning as madly as either of his comrades, "why didn't you say so from the start?"

Bayard laughed, "where's the fun in that, lad? Now go thwart our temporarily resident mage!" The boy beamed his acknowledgement and vanished as his mentors exchanged a grin of equal proportions.

There came a pounding upon the door at an obscene hour of the morning when the earliest bird didn't even have the indecency to sing, but it was in nowise so sweet a wakeup call to either of the students in the room. Grumbling to himself, the more dour of the pair hefted himself out of bed and flung wide the door in irritation, ready to give the impertinent creature on the other side an earful on the respect due students of their seniority, but the ill-feeling personage standing there was unlikely to be scolded by anyone, save a creature more dreadful than itself, none of which were to be found among mortal men.

"We must speak," hissed what might have been a rabid wolf trying to pose as a lap dog, or at least that was the impression the quivering lad got as he looked over this monstrosity trying to pass itself off as a student, finished the thing, "alone."

"Are you really going to listen to this intruder?" said the other boy, with a vast yawn, as if their strange guest was of no import and he would just roll over and go back to sleep.

"Yes," quavered the boy, too intimidated to say more.

"Very well," yawned his companion anew, "nothing like a midnight saunter through the vacant halls to prepare you for another day of learning." The creature snarled silently as he hied himself out of the room, slamming the door the moment he was through it, as if he was the impertinent intruder rather than the one imposed upon! With a heavy sigh, he vanished into the shadowed corridors, lost in thought, little heeding whither his feet carried him.

He was quite astonished to look up and find himself very nearly colliding with another late night wanderer, grinning sheepishly he asked of Kyan, "what brings you here at such an odd hour?"

Kyan shook his head ruefully, "I could ask you the same."

The boy shrugged, saying, "I was ousted from sleep and my room by a rather rude and demanding guest my roommate was determined to entertain."

Kyan frowned, "what a strange hour for social calls, especially of so demanding a guest! I have been in conference with our esteemed instructors and am only now parting company."

"You didn't go poof!?" asked the other genially.

"As you see," grinned Kyan.

"There you are!" came a new voice, revealing itself to be Tyne, as he came around the corner of the corridor to join their peculiar confab, "I was beginning to worry when you did not return after so long, I thought you verily must have gone poof!" Added he rather sheepishly, "though I must admit I fell asleep waiting for you, but when I awoke and you were still absent, I came looking for you." Frowned he at the enigmatic student, "and just why are you having such a meeting at such a place and time?"

"I was evicted from my room and was innocently wandering the corridors," said Brin in feigned hauteur, "when I very nearly stumbled over your friend here, skulking about long after curfew for nefarious reasons of his own no doubt."

Kyan grinned, "I just finished my interview with our instructors, but not wanting to waken the rest of my roommates, I chose not to return to our room quite yet."

Tyne chuckled, "it seems whoever displaced our companion here could use a lesson in such manners." Sobering, he asked, "how did it go?"

"Hardly as I imagined it would," grinned Kyan heartily, "but I am satisfied that there is no great conspiracy going on here, at least none of an evil nature." He frowned and amended, eyeing Brin thoughtfully, "at least involving our instructors."

Tyne shook his head in wonder, "you think this strange visitor might be up to something wicked?"

"He's either plotting some nefarious mischief or he's never even heard of manners," said Brin grimly, "he's a dangerous one, whatever he's up to."

Tyne said curiously, eagerness tingeing his voice, "how exciting! We need something to liven things up around here; it's been far too dull for my taste."

The others exchanged a surprised look at this sentiment but did not voice their concern, rather Kyan said brightly to Brin, "you might as well come back to our room, we have an empty bunk if you'd like it."

"Indeed," said Brin happily, "lead on!" Tyne followed, lost in thought.

Far too early did the other sleepers in that room waken to begin their morning preparations, while the others raced down to breakfast, Tyne was silently thoughtful and Brin and Kyan equally so, though for different reasons, the former pondering over this astonishingly rude visitor and what it might mean while the latter anxiously watched the former, wondering the same about him. Said Tyne at last, when they could tarry no longer without being late, "could you introduce me to this stranger?"

"Hardly," said Brin with a wondering shake of his head, "I know nothing of him, save that he ousted me from my room at a most despicable hour, but perhaps my roommate will be able to do you such a service, if service it be?"

"That would be most agreeable," nodded Tyne, "perhaps they are even now at breakfast?" Without another word, he hastened in that direction. Brin and Kyan exchanged a worried glance and followed swiftly after.

It was not difficult to find the pair, for none else dared share a table with them, making them quite obvious in the otherwise crowded dining room. Brin's roommate was wan and shaken, his companion grimly triumphant, when Tyne boldly approached, demanding an introduction and a place at the nearly empty table. The fell stranger was immediately enamored with the bold lad and turned his full attention upon the boy, leaving his former victim to stew in terrified misery but finally free of the thing's attention.

While Tyne and the stranger were getting acquainted, Brin approached his formerly cynical roommate and asked, "do you still wish to court this villain's attention?"

"Not in the least," sighed he resignedly, "but once it gets its claws into you, I do not doubt it is impossible to disentangle oneself. I am doomed, save yourselves and flee forthwith!"

Brin smiled grimly, "I think not, if you are in earnest, I will do what I must to see you free of its influence."

Kyan broke in, knowing innately that this seeming student was actually the fell mage in disguise and his companions, no matter how bold, were no match for such a foe, "I do not think that is a wise decision, my friends."

Brin frowned at him, "would you leave him to the mercies of this fell villain then?"

Kyan grinned ruefully, "nay, nay, you mistake me entirely, I just do not think it is your place to stand between that thing and your friend, rather leave that to me."

"You?!" said Brin with a pensive frown, "Why think you that you are any more a match for the creature than I?"

Kyan cocked his head in question, "are you saying what I think you are saying?"

Brin grinned, "are you?"

They both smiled widely at this, as if suddenly in mutual understanding, but Kyan cautioned, "it knows me for what I am, but you are still just another student to its knowledge and that is to our advantage."

Brin nodded, "very well, you may interfere in this debacle and I'll be just another unwitting student for the time being." Brin returned his attention to his wretched roommate after this private conference, saying, "we'd best go, but fear not, Kyan will take care of your villainous acquaintance." The distraught boy nodded eagerly and hied himself off as quickly as he could go without actually running.

This caught the fiend's attention as nothing else could, at last drawing its notice away from the eager Tyne, snarled the creature, "you cannot escape me, wretch!"

"Think again, fiend," said Kyan staunchly, "he has chosen to forgo your acquaintance hereafter and if you impinge upon that choice, I will be forced to deal with you."

"Very well," hissed the monstrous thing, "but only because I do not wish to startle these deplorable sheep, yet."

"I will be watching," said Kyan.

"Of course, you fool!" spat the fiend, "What else does your kind do but meddle where you are least wanted?"

Tyne frowned, "his kind?"

Realizing his slip before the uninitiated, the horror sneered, "an over-pious goody-goody who has nothing better to do than get in my way!"

"Ah!" said Tyne, "I had considered him a friend."

"You had best reconsider," said the fiend darkly, "at least if you wish anything to do with me?"

"Yes," said Tyne slowly, "I see your point, but I do not think there is any choice. He served his purpose, but the time for greater things has come, that is unless he would embrace your ideals as well?"

"Him?!" laughed the grim fellow, "Have you so little comprehension of his situation?"

"Are not all free to make such a decision?" said Tyne in incomprehension.

"Some have decided irrevocably against such matters," said the deplorable thing.

"A pity," said Tyne, "I had hoped for so much more for him, but things are as they are then and I will not turn aside from that which I most desire." At Kyan's devastated look, Tyne snarled, "do you truly pity me? You are a fool! You are the one to be pitied, alas that I ever was fool enough to think you worthy to call friend!"

Kyan said quietly, "I must bow to your wishes of course Tyne, though I would counsel you to do anything but. I will withdraw, if that be your wish?" At his sharp nod, Kyan nodded unhappily, but spitted the thing with a look of granite, "but I shall in nowise leave you unsupervised, fiend!"

"Stating the obvious again!" spat the horror, "What have I to fear from you, fool?" With this, it laughed darkly and herded its new victim off towards the first class of the morning. Kyan exchanged a grim look with Brin across the dining hall before all and sundry dispersed likewise.

As the other students filed out of the room for the noon meal, Kyan approached Kipril at the front, waiting to speak until they were alone, the smiling senior Messenger betrayed to the lad that he had little novel to report, but he said, "you knew Brin was part of this?"

"Of course," nodded the elder of the pair, "not all of our initiates vanish mysteriously after all. It is helpful to have someone amongst the students, especially with that fiend posing as one himself."

"How can you allow him to do just that, here?" gasped Kyan in wonder.

Kipril shrugged, "as long as he isn't threatening anyone or forcing them to do something they don't want to, he has as much right here as any created being. We each must be allowed to choose our fates, that means accepting the presence of conflicting ideologies in this broken sphere rather than trying to monopolize the world of ideas. There is only one Truth, but men are determined that their way, whatever it is, must be the best, even if it is a pack of fancy and lies. There are many who will have nothing to do with our message even though it dooms their souls."

"How very wretched," sighed the boy sadly.

"It is the very price of love," said Kipril solemnly, "we must choose to love or not, it cannot be coerced, forced, or inevitable or it is not love."

Kyan brightened slightly, adding, "let us hope this little enterprise of yours and our various activities make it a little easier for others to choose thusly then."

"I'm sure it will lad," smiled Kipril slightly, "the Master's efforts are never vain."

"I'd best go to lunch and see how our resident fiend and his companion are getting along," said Kyan gloomily.

"A friend of yours?" queried Kipril.

"So I had thought," said the boy, "but it seems I was merely convenient and his love waxed cold the moment something better, to his mind at least, came along."

"So you understand this matter quite well," said the elder quietly, "I am sorry you had to learn it so painfully."

"What is mortal pain to Eternal Joy?" grinned the boy, very nearly glowing in his enthusiasm.

"Easy lad," chuckled the teacher, "you don't want to inadvertently alert your classmates to your more curious nature." The boy grinned sheepishly, saluted brightly in farewell, and dashed from the room, Kipril smiling after, vastly amused by his boyish enthusiasm.

Kyan sat down across from the enamored pair, Tyne frowning slightly and the faux student not bothering to hide its derision, spat the thing, "this is a private party, fool."

Kyan grinned as only an imp can, not that he had ever seen one, grinning or not, said he, "if you can traipse into a private room in the dead of night without invitation, why can't I occupy an empty seat?"

"Besides," said Tyne, "perhaps he'd be interested in this offer of yours?"

"Him?!" scoffed the horror, forgetting for a moment that Tyne had no idea as to his friend's new nature, "You might as well ask that great oak on the lawn to root itself in the sea!"

"I'm here for your sake, not his," said Kyan to Tyne.

"I thought you understood that things can't be as they were," said Tyne with quiet ire, "unless you accept my new friend for what and who he is, as I have."

"I have no choice but to tolerate what he is," said Kyan bluntly, "but that does not mean I need to embrace his ideology to sit at the same table with him, or you. What has he to say that has so enchanted you?"

Tyne studied him for a moment, trying to discern if his erstwhile friend was somehow attacking, belittling, or making light of him, but Kyan was all open curiosity with no hostility in the mix, he nodded to himself and began, "the world is a far bigger, more complicated, and dangerous place than our current teachers would ever admit or believe, they can see nothing but their so-called truth and leave us in ignorance as to all else. I am tired of it and want something better, a more comprehensive ideal of what the world is like."

"And your companion is the possessor of those secrets?" asked Kyan skeptically.

"Secrets of this world and the one beyond it," nodded Tyne eagerly, "are you sure you want no part in this?"

Kyan shook his head in wonder, "but do our instructors not speak of such things themselves?"

Tyne wore a patronizing smile, as if talking to a small child who absolutely refused to understand something that was not in accordance with his ideas of reality, "in their own stunted and benighted way I suppose, but he has seen things, knows things beyond their ability to even begin to comprehend."

"Does it matter that he is thoroughly evil?" queried Kyan.

That contemptuous smile deepened into full scorn, "did we not have this conversation at the first? What matter such things to the elite? Do not the ends justify the means in such cases?"

"Have you learned nothing in your time here?" said Kyan sadly.

"Nice guys wind up dead," smiled Tyne in as cruel and malicious a fashion as a mortal of less than twenty years of age can manage, quite innocent and mirthful compared to what it would harden into in later years when both youth and mortality were long forgotten and only bitter and endless night loomed before him.

Kyan smiled ruefully, "perhaps by the world's standards."

"And what other standard should we use?" snarled the hitherto silent menace, "None will ever meet the standards you hopelessly cling to!"

"No," said Kyan, "but there is One who has and He has paid the Price for our own shortcomings, counting His own righteousness as ours! It is not hopeless, but rather Hope itself. What can the world's standards avail you but death and vanity?"

"We can enjoy power, riches, and fame whilst this world lasts," hissed the fiend.

"And what thereafter?" challenged Kyan.

"When my fell master conquers yours, wretch," laughed the creature like rotten bones creaking, "you'll find out!"

"Do you really wish to ally yourself with this thing?" queried Kyan morosely of Tyne.

"I do indeed," said he haughtily, "and the sooner the better!"

"Let's be about it then," said the creature eagerly, "for there's work to be about here and your aid would be invaluable."

Said Kyan quietly, as falling dusk is quiet, "there is no turning back, my friend, once you go down that path, your choice is irrevocable."

"Thanks for the warning," said Tyne snidely, "but I am content in my choice."

"Come," hissed the fiend, "let us find somewhere less redolent with feigned virtue." They vanished out the far door, leaving Kyan to find his comrades and make his report.

Nodded Bayard grimly, "it's his choice lad, as ever it was yours. But we still outnumber them two to one, there's no need to despair yet, or ever, for you know as well as I that our Master has already vanquished evil, darkness, and death forever, we need only wait until the Day when it will not even be a memory, until then we've many a skirmish and minor battle to fight, but the End is already written!"

"I suppose it helps to look up from the trenches every now and again and remember that there is a glorious end to this war!" said the boy eagerly, sobering he added, "But alas for my friend!"

"Now your enemy," said Kipril sadly, "a very servant of death and darkness, doomed to a living death whilst this world lasts."

"It's time for class," sighed Bayard, "while this is a highly interesting topic, the balance of our students would nowise appreciate it as we do." He smiled broadly at Kyan and said, "fear not lad, you're doing well, but I would hate to see you late for class as well. You know what sticklers your teachers are for punctuality."

"What is time to us?" laughed the boy heartily before vanishing like an errant thought.

"He's catching on fast, oh punctual one," chuckled Kipril, "perhaps we should likewise take your advice?" With a conspiratorial grin, they did just that, even though it was quarter past the hour when they were supposed to begin their afternoon lessons, they arrived with plenty of time to spare, quite literally in two places at once.

Brin sat next to Kyan during the lesson, saying quietly, "what is happening with your friend and the monster?"

"He's determined to become one himself," replied Kyan wretchedly.

"Perhaps we should rearrange our sleeping arrangements?" suggested Brin.

"As long as no one is stuck alone with either fiend," said Kyan, "I do not see that it matters."

"Quite," grinned Brin, "I believe we can handle Tyne if he insists on continuing to room with us and the other can have a room to himself, quite a luxury, but out of necessity rather than privilege."

"Not that the thing needs sleep," said Kyan with an ironic grin, "it's quite unfair but I won't be the one to complain lest they ask me to fill the empty bed!"

"You're quite a natural at this," smiled Brin proudly, "it takes some a very long time to adjust their sensibilities to things beyond the temporal sphere."

"It helps to be utterly ignorant to begin with," said Kyan with a smile that tried to swallow his head, "less to unlearn."

"Ah," was all Brin could say, with a resigned shake of his head at such an incorrigible rascal, but their nearest neighbors were frowning in annoyance at their audacity in having a conversation, so it was past time it was over. They lapsed into silence, busy with their own thoughts and little heeding the lesson, but at least their neighbors were able to do just that without further interruption.

Tyne appeared at the evening meal, seemingly no worse for wear, but the two junior Messengers weren't fooled, not in the least, for they felt rather than saw that here was one of their perennial enemies, no matter his outward visage. They exchanged a grim look as he seated himself across from them, seemingly eager to gloat upon his recent triumph, but Kyan beat him to it, diverting the subject elsewhere, asking, "are you still planning on maintaining your current sleeping arrangements or staying with your grim companion?"

"Of course I'll remain where I am," hissed he, quite unhappy to have his moment of triumph so easily squelched, continuing, "how else could I extol the glories of my new profession to my old roomies?"

"Or your new ones?" queried Brin brightly, "Remember you've two new members of that particular crew, what with that thing in our old quarters!"

"Speak of our kind with respect, mortal," growled Tyne in warning. Kyan's hand strayed toward the sword that was not there, Tyne smiled contemptuously and barked a laugh, both horrid mockeries of his lost humanity, "unless you want to be spoken of in the past tense!" His eyes narrowed and he spitted Kyan with a stare more suited to some ravenous wolf than the countenance of what was once a man, "and what of you? I am not as ignorant as you might believe me."

"I do not doubt it," said Kyan quietly, "did your companion tell you how it came about?"

"By his own hand," nodded Tyne in approbation, "a pity it could not have been mine!"

"I do not doubt we will have ample opportunities to clash in the coming days, if not all the ages of the world to do just that," said Kyan quietly, as a sheathed knife is quiet.

"It is not the same," sighed Tyne, "that is merely swatting a fly repeatedly when I could have plunged you forever into the maw of death, there is no sweeter wine for me and mine than the final and utter despair of a mortal soul."

Kyan shook his head, "the end would have been the same. You are a mere servant of death, I serve Him who conquered Death once and for all, what is that to Him?"

"Perhaps," mused Tyne, "but I still would have liked to have my part in it, but then there are plenty of others in this wretched school to whom I may do the same and at my leisure."

"No," said Kyan bluntly, "we will see that none comes to harm."

"Who?!" scoffed Tyne, "Our impotent school masters? My companion bested them both with ease! They are sheep to the slaughter and you and yours naught but scarecrows against ravening wolves!"

"We shall see," said Kyan, not intimidated in the least.

"Still," said Tyne, "I would like to see it for myself, rather than take his word for it."

"What?" frowned Kyan in incomprehension.

"Come with me," hissed Tyne eagerly, adding with a sinister laugh, "unless you'd like everyone to know?"

"Certainly not," said Kyan with a shudder, more at the possibility of Tyne revealing his own hideousness somehow in whatever it was he intended, "very well, lead on." He caught Brin's eye, he nodded in understanding, knowing he was to watch for whatever mischief the other undead fiend might be plotting in his comrade's absence, as this might be merely a ruse to leave the unwitting students vulnerable to its fell mercies.

But it seemed Tyne was in earnest at least, more curious than hostile or derisive at the moment, as they secreted themselves in an empty classroom. "Go ahead," said Tyne, "astonish me."

Kyan shook his head, "what is it you expect me to do?"

"Unveil yourself, wretch!" spat Tyne. Kyan still continued to stare at him blankly in incomprehension, but Tyne had had enough, he dropped all pretense of civility and revealed his own true form, a hideous apparition wrought of charred bone, shredded cloth, and dark mist with embers for eyes that glowed with an utter hatred for all that still wore flesh. It lifted Kyan by the collar and slammed him up against the wall, laughing triumphantly as it did so, "perhaps my companion was wrong about you? Perhaps I shall give you the death you deserve after all!"

An inky ooze leeched from the monster's hands, over the pinned boy's chest, and would have eaten away his flesh were he still wrought of such, but instead a deadly light was unleashed, burning the fiend's hands and eyes, causing it to drop its victim with a hideous shriek of agony as it shrank to the far corner of the room. Kyan was too astonished to do aught but stand there gaping at his own radiance. Hissed Tyne in agony, "veil it you fool!"

Not knowing what he did, the blinding glare dimmed to a trifling glow, though even this was painful to the undead villain, who at last crept out of its corner and finally looked upon its adversary with contempt, but it was feigned, for this was no longer a helpless school boy but rather some dread warrior out of legend, alight from within. Kyan smiled hugely and then the vision was gone, only the boy remained.

Tyne too reverted to his more familiar guise and snarked, "you really had no idea?"

"None," said Kyan, "I was aware of a few unique skills now in my possession but had no idea I could do that!"

"Well don't," hissed the fiend that had once been a friend.

"As long as you keep your more hideous side under a tight rein, I shall gladly do the same," agreed Kyan, "panic amongst the students will avail neither of us."

"Very well," said Tyne, "but only whilst it's convenient to myself."

"Now who is stating the obvious?" laughed Kyan, only too late realizing that was a very foolish thing to do in the presence of someone who no longer was possessed of a sense of humor. Tyne's fury and reaction were as wild and sudden as a summer thunderstorm, reducing the amused Messenger to nothingness almost before Tyne knew what it was he had done. He could not help but smile, albeit as only a corpse could, in satisfaction at what he was now capable of. So much for old friends!

"That was unpleasant," said Kyan to Brin, once he again materialized in the mortal sphere and they found themselves momentarily alone in their quarters.

"Our enemies are not big conversationalists," agreed his companion, "they don't have the patience or taste for it anymore."

"Nor a sense of humor," said Kyan with a shudder, still feeling as if he might be residually singed, though he knew that could in nowise be the case.

"You'll get used to it," grinned the more experienced lad, "it's the new normal."

"I doubt anything in this occupation could ever be construed as normal," grinned Kyan, happy to have a companion who was indeed able to laugh, especially at himself.

"Probably not," chuckled Brin, "but that is not such a bad thing."

"I suppose it keeps us on our toes," mused Kyan, "and it will never get dull."

"Precisely," nodded Brin, adding with an impish smile, "that and no story is ever told twice." There could be no further response, for at that moment one of their roommates returned and they were forced into casual mundanity, but not before exchanging a smile most enigmatical, at least until Tyne returned and began lecturing all and sundry about his newfound interests. "This could be a long night," grinned Brin conspiratorially at Kyan.

Kyan smiled impishly, "perhaps he'll do our work for us?" They exchanged a thoughtful smile and tried to find something else to occupy their attention while Tyne droned on. But Kyan was truly prophetic in his assertions, for over the next few weeks, no sooner did Tyne enter a room than everyone else either left or drew too far away for conversation.

He rounded on Kyan one afternoon, demanding, "how are you sabotaging me?"

Kyan shook his head, "I'm not, you are doing too good of a job yourself! No one cares about your dread master but you."

"Perhaps a demonstration is in order," scowled the seeming boy, "where curiosity or greed will not suffice, perhaps fear will!"

Kyan reached towards his absent sword, saying in warning, "that is unwise, my friend!"

Tyne slapped him, hard, as Kyan picked himself up off the floor, Tyne stalked past him into their room and emerged a moment later clutching Brin by the throat. He carried the gasping student to the dining hall, where the entire student body was gathering in anticipation of supper and where every eye suddenly turned upon the astonishing scene. Cried Tyne aloud, "you all seem indifferent to the most important things in life and beyond! But I wish you to be in ignorance no longer, if you do not wish to share this fool's fate, then you had best start listening to all I have to say or you will be next!" He easily held Brin aloft as his hands burst into flame, consuming the incognito Messenger as if he were wrought of paper. There came a communal gasp and then mass panic, or they would have panicked, had Kyan not jumped up on the table behind Tyne and run him through the heart with a hastily procured fork.

Tyne screamed and vanished as utterly as Brin, leaving every eye focused upon Kyan in utter wonder, all too stunned to move. The boy grinned ruefully and climbed down from his perch and hastened out of the dining hall before vanishing utterly from sight, as a cheer of relief echoed from the room and a bevy of eager students came dashing out to show their thanks, relief, and approbation, but unable to find their hero, they milled about aimlessly like confused sheep.

Kyan went in search of the teachers, wondering what next was to be done, but they weren't in any of their usual haunts, and with a wry smile, he vanished utterly and reappeared wherever he had a need to be, only to find himself in the midst of a violent sword fight in the usually quiet library. With a wry smile, and still invisible, he stabbed the original villain in the back with his fork and the fiend vanished with a whimper and a dark flash, leaving Bayard's incoming thrust nowhere to lodge itself but in the boy who at that moment willed himself into visibility. Kyan fell to his knees, pierced through but not mortally struck.

Bayard gasped in surprise but quickly sheathed his blade before offering the boy a hand up, grinning wryly at the boy's chosen weapon, said he with a laugh, "that wouldn't be my weapon of choice, but it seems you have mastered the art. I have heard of the pen being mightier than the sword, but a fork?"

Kyan glanced down at his unharmed person in wonder and laughed in relief, "at least in this case that seems to be true." Just then Brin and Kipril appeared in a brilliant flash, both returning after their temporary banishment, having fallen to one or the other of the wretched fiends.

Asked Kipril with a slight frown, "why is he holding a fork?"

"It's our new weapon of choice!" grinned Bayard.

"To each their own," said Kipril with a confused shake of his head, "now what of the fiends?"

"The lad has vanquished them both with his intriguing weapon," said Bayard archly, "and I do believe the horrors will leave us alone for a bit."

Brin said quietly, but there was an eager tone beneath, "I'm afraid I'll have to move on, that fiend made a very public end of me."

Kyan grinned ruefully, "and I made quite a public end of the fiend I fear, there'll be no going back for me either, at least if you want any sanity or order amongst your student body."

The senior Messengers exchanged a wry grin, as Bayard said in feigned solemnity, "it seems we have no choice but to expel you both!"

"That's a relief!" laughed Kyan brightly, "No more remedial education!" But he added wistfully, "but I shall miss you all!"

The three veterans laughed heartily at this, each clapping him eagerly on the back, said Kipril happily, "don't be ridiculous lad, we've all eternity to annoy you with one tedious lecture after another, if that be our wish!"

Brin barked a laugh, "I wouldn't wish that on the Fiend himself!"

"Nor I," agreed Bayard, before they all joined in. After a few minutes of further farewells, the boys vanished about their next errand as their teachers went to go restore sense and order to their momentarily chaotic school.

The last, surviving ancient student, now alone in his role as oldest living resident of the place that wasn't a teacher, was heard to say not long thereafter, "I always knew he'd go poof!" Though whether he meant Brin or Kyan, none were ever bold enough to ask.

The Ruins

"Captain," came the insistent call again.

Garren jolted awake, blinked blurrily at the figment beside him, grey in the wan light of predawn, and was suddenly wide awake and beaming like the imminent sun, "Kipril?! You're awake and alive?!"

His Lieutenant smiled mysteriously but merely replied, "so it seems, sir, but come, you've orders to attend to."

"The King?" said he, anxiously rising from the chair in which he had dozed off, "I hope he understands I was not trying to be remiss in my duties?"

"This does not come from the palace, sir," said Kipril quietly.

Garren scratched his head in confusion, "then from whom or where?"

The Lieutenant shook his head gravely, "that you'll have to discover for yourself, sir, I am not at liberty to say."

The Captain looked at his underling in astonishment, the man was just out of what should have been his deathbed, but here he was bold as anything, ready to disobey his commanding officer! But there was no sign of challenge, teasing, or conceit in the man's voice or mien, rather the simple, honest truth and attendance to his duty that had characterized every day of his life, today was no different save that from wherever these peculiar orders sprang, it was an authority much higher than a mere captain or even the young King. Garren shuddered in growing dread, who or what was greater than the King? "Very well," said he at last, "what are these mysterious orders?"

Kipril nodded and said, "you've been ordered to report immediately to the ruins lost deep within the Haunted Wood."

"The Haunted Wood?" said the Captain in horror, "Are you delusional, man?"

Kipril snorted wryly, something a madman probably wouldn't do, "I am far more fit for duty than I ever have been, sir. Your orders don't make any sense, it is they that are mad, not me, but you must obey them regardless, or not."

"I've never disobeyed an order in my life," said the Captain grimly, "and with the gravity with which you are taking these, it must be a dire situation indeed and I daren't face the consequences of disobeying such an Authority, but how am I to proceed?"

"Faith, sir," said Kipril quietly, "I believe all you need do is obey and a way shall be provided."

"Faith?!" said Garren in wonder, as if his Lieutenant was suddenly proclaiming all the stories true, but then considering the strange situation in which he now found himself, that might just be the case. As a boy he had been quite taken with his grandmother's tales, but was he not now a grown man with no need for such fanciful ideas? But his grandmother had believed them, so too did that curiously grinning Lieutenant, and suddenly he knew he wanted that, whatever it was that made the man smile so, as if all the sorrows in the world heaped one atop another were not enough to even momentarily sully his joy. "Faith," repeated he wryly, and with a hearty laugh he added, "if you aren't mad then I must be." He saluted Kipril smartly and said warmly, "farewell, my friend and thank you, for reminding me of the most important things in life and beyond it." He turned on his heel, before his resolve could fail him, and marched swiftly out the door, not noticing the unmoving figure in the bed as he exited the little house; Kipril watched him go with sparkling eyes, before glancing curiously at his own mortal coil, motionless in what had truly been his deathbed.

It was a splendid night for a walk, if it was to be his last. Trees lined both sides of the little road, their naked branches stark and beautiful in the crisp winter twilight ere the coming dawn, the horizon already a brilliant yellow just above the distant hills; a few bold stars twinkled in the chill air while a sliver of moon hung heavy on the horizon. But he was not alone on this strange pilgrimage, for another traveler broke the solitude of that surreal journey.

"It is a strange time for a walk," said Bayard quietly.

"I could not imagine a stranger one, sir," replied the Captain formally to the King's righthand man, friend, and advisor, "but it is no idle quest or odd fancy, at least on my part."

"Nor mine," said the boy quietly, for like the newly crowned King, the young man was barely beyond the years when most would consider him quite a child, thrust into responsibility and adulthood as suddenly as the new King by the untimely death of his father, but there could be no more conversation after that, for it was as if the sun had burst above the far hills, save it was no light of this mortal earth that consumed them utterly.

Garren blinked, astonished that he could do so, for the light was gone, as was his companion and the bright road, rather a gloomy, dripping ruin was there to greet him. Faith indeed! Now what? There wasn't much to see, just an unending night and glowering trees fencing in the cracked paving stones and toppled walls with nothing but himself to be found therein. Suddenly his heart was in his throat, his body aquiver, and he was trembling upon his knees, knowing instinctively that whatever Authority had commanded his presence, was as imminent as the dawn, perhaps more so, for it was He that spoke and the very sun presented itself in bowing adoration, eager to adhere to His least whim.

But it was nothing more terrible than a little magpie that flitted over the wall and lit on the cracked stones before Garren, but somehow he knew that the least glimpse of this Being's true form would unmake him in a moment, but what a glorious way to die! He said nothing, merely caught His creature's gaze with His own fathomless eyes. The man collapsed in weeping agony at what he saw therein, trembling in utter misery before his Maker. Said He, "Peace child." And there could be nothing but.

When Garren was once more master of his faculties and could sit up of his own accord, he found himself again alone in that dreadful ruin, the ambiance had not improved in the least. But before he could gain his feet, there was another presence with him in that crumbling keep, this one not The Presence, but rather another created being like himself, but not such a one as to put the Captain's heart at ease, for it was no mortal man. Rather the ubiquitous mist of the place, ever lurking in the corners, congealed itself into a solid, radiant mass in form like a man, but such a man as mortal eye has never beheld.

"Stay your flight," said the specter boldly to the kneeling man, who was ready to spring to his feet and face the horrors of the Wood rather than this phantasm wrought of that unearthly light.

Garren sighed heavily, knowing there could be no escape from such a one, he faced his doom with as much equanimity as he could muster. The figment approached, a radiant hand outstretched towards the trembling mortal creature. The spectral thing placed its glowing hand upon the man's breastbone, Garren felt his heart shudder and begin to beat in time with that pulsing light, and then he felt himself flung backwards into utmost darkness.

He awakened in the same rickety chair in which he had thought he had awakened before, but this time there was no healthy Lieutenant to order him about, rather there was only an empty bed, and save for himself, an empty room. He stood and stretched the stiffness out of his person and tried to shake the fog out of his mind, but to no avail. What had happened? Was it a dream? Where was Kipril? He glanced out the window at the barely risen sun and sighed, whatever had happened or hadn't, he had his duty to be about. He could spend his off-duty hours minding the sickbed of his Lieutenant, but even a dying friend he counted as dear as a son could not excuse him from his appointed post. With another vast yawn, he trotted out the door, hoping he wasn't late.

He stood at his post, all his attention focused inwards as he tried to unravel the puzzle, though maintaining all the stony façade of watchfulness of a guard on duty without. "Come sir," said the King's dearest advisor and righthand man, "the King would see you." Garren snapped to attention and blinked stupidly at the enigmatically smiling man, who winked at him and continued, "it seems you too are rather troubled by the happenings of the morning, early as it still is?"

"Yes, sir," said the Captain quietly, "what has happened?"

"I don't know," said the young lord, "but be assured it is no dream and neither are we alone in this conundrum. We shall know what we must, when we must, until then, we can but have faith."

"Faith," mused Garren pensively, "I seem to hear that a lot of late."

"Good advice it is, so it is no surprise that it is oft repeated," agreed Bayard, "but come, you have another audience, this one less intimidating and perplexing, or so I would hope!"

Garren shook his head in wonder, but he could not help smiling as perplexedly as his companion, as they made their way back to wherever the King had secreted himself at that hour. They found him mulling over his correspondence over breakfast, far more interested in whatever was written on a particularly decorative missive than on the food before him. "Ah!" said he, leaping to his feet eagerly, "Just the gentlemen I've been waiting for, what say you Captain?" At the Captain's blank look, the young King laughed at himself and said joyously, "I forget that you know nothing of this matter, so you could hardly share my eager joy!" He handed the splendid epistle to the flummoxed Captain, who read it with growing wonder and dread.

He handed it back to the King with a deep bow, saying grimly, "whatever you would have of me Sire, that I will do, but I will say that I am uneasy with such a proposition."

"As you should be," agreed the King jovially, "any man would be at the prospect of entering the Haunted Wood, but for such a prize the risk must certainly be worth it? And do not think your boldness and faithfulness will go unappreciated, should you dare to do as I shall soon ask, upon your return you shall be made a peer of the realm with all the rank, title, fortune, and power that goes with it for your daring!"

Garren shook his head grimly, "nay Sire, keep your rewards for those deserving of them. I will go merely because you ask it of me and it is my duty to do just that."

"Very well," said the King, grave and solemn and touched at the man's honest devotion, "you and Bayard will venture thither in pursuit of my promised bride," his gravity suddenly gave way to his eager joy, as he added, "can you imagine, an elven princess?!"

They bowed themselves from his presence to make ready to ride, for it seemed nothing would content or settle him until they had returned successful from their quest. When they were well out of anyone's hearing but their own, Bayard said gently, "speak your mind man, don't stand on ceremony with such a quest looming before us!"

"I don't like it sir, not in the least," confided the Captain grimly, "why would such folk write to the King of our insignificant little realm promising him one of their princesses as a bride if only he is bold enough to send for her?"

"Your thoughts coincide with mine," said Bayard gravely, "but the King will not see it, indeed, he can see nothing but his own delight in the mix."

"And yet you would still go?" asked the soldier quietly.

Bayard snorted, "is it any surprise? You are doing precisely that and you have not the ties of friendship to spur you on, merely fealty and duty." Added he quietly, "and as we have already shared a strange adventure and this is like to be our last, there need be no formality between us once we have left the habitations of civilized men."

"Very good sir," said Garren with a sad smile, "but there is one matter of personal business I would like to attend to before we depart."

Bayard frowned slightly, "I thought your lieutenant was out of danger, indeed out of his sickbed! Was it not he that summoned me to that odd adventure just this morning?"

"That's what is troubling me," said Garren slowly, his brow furrowed in thought, "when I awakened the second time, the bed was empty and there was no sign of the man though he set me likewise upon that strange errand."

"I'll begin our preparations," said Bayard with a wry smile, "you go see if you can track down your missing minion, if he is to be found; it would not do for the King to be without a qualified and faithful man to be the next Captain of his Guard."

"But how is he to replace such a faithful friend and companion?" retorted Garren wistfully, "Captains are easy enough to come by, but I fear there is no one to replace you."

"Perhaps that is their very hope in this matter," said the man gravely, "but we can do nothing but his will. Off with you sir, for we have our orders and we must leave the others to His care."

Garren nodded grimly, but unwittingly smiled like dawn itself in anticipation, saying as he trotted off, "quite right, sir, quite right indeed!" Now where was he to find that rapscallion of a lieutenant at this hour? He barked a wry laugh at his own ineptitude and hastened to the man's assigned post, where else would he be? And there he was, standing at his post as if he had not lay dying, unable to rise from his bed, but a few hours before.

He snapped to attention and saluted very properly, but there was a strange light in his eyes, as if he knew a joke or secret that he dared keep even from his Captain, said he brightly, "Sir?"

"What are you about Kipril?" queried the Captain eagerly, knowing he wasn't likely to get an answer, but hopeful even so.

"My duty sir, what else?" smiled the man like an infuriating cat that will never divulge its secrets.

"What was all that this morning?" snapped the Captain, "How is it you are perfectly healthy now when last night we had both despaired of your life?"

The man shrugged and grinned the more, "that we'll both have to discover in time, sir, now what of you?"

Said Garren grimly, "the King is sending me and his dearest friend into the Haunted Wood to fetch his promised bride."

"Don't be afraid sir," said Kipril quietly, "death isn't such a dreadful business as we've thought all our lives; it's just a door into Greater Things."

"Kipril?" gasped the Captain in horror.

"Yes sir," grinned the boy like glory itself, "it's a door I've personally stepped through, one we all must enter, my friend."

The Captain shook his head in wonder, but could not weep or grieve, what with the man himself standing there smiling like the first morning of the world, untouched by death or sorrow, saying at last, "but don't expect me to grieve over much if this is your own reaction to your demise!"

"I'll remember that sir," chuckled the boy, "when your own turn comes."

"Which won't be very far off," said the Captain grimly, "but it is only fair I suppose. But we can compare notes upon my return."

"I look forward to it, sir," smiled the young soldier wistfully, saluting smartly as Garren gave him a sad smile and went in search of his equally doomed companion. They were soon enough in their saddles and beyond the green fields and tame copses that composed the bulk of the tiny Kingdom hewn out of an ancient and mirthless Wood that glowered all around the miniscule realm, like an endless night begrudging a dying candle its meager light.

"Did you find your answers?" queried Bayard as they rode along.

"Only more questions," mused the Captain, "and a Peace not born of this world, even though we ride to our deaths."

"Unsurprising," laughed the boy happily, "as it is the precedent of the day, and that barely begun." But his smile soon vanished as he glimpsed a great darkness that seemed to cover the distant hills, a gloomy arboreal sea drowning a disquiet land.

"How can anyone living willingly therein propose such a propitious offer to our King?" queried the distraught guardsman.

"Perhaps there are rebels therein?" said Bayard with little hope.

"It is likely a ploy for nefarious reasons of their own," sighed the Captain.

"And we the unwitting fools caught in the middle," said Bayard sadly.

"Not unwitting," grinned Garren like a man mounting the gallows, "we agreed to this willingly, and what was this morning's first adventure if not preparation therefor?"

"Indeed!" said Bayard in surprise, "I had almost forgotten this was not our first foray therein." They drew rein and left the horses upon the road, knowing the creatures could not be forced beneath the glowering trees against their will and no mortal beast would willingly do anything of the sort. Each took up the small satchel of food and supplies prepared for him, wondering idly if they would even live long enough to have need thereof. They exchanged a grim look and vanished from all mortal knowledge into the unnatural murk beneath the trees.

"Here you are!" said a delighted voice, though there was no mirth or joy in the sound, only wicked anticipation, "You do know your King is an utter fool? As are you for agreeing to this mad proposition!"

"We rode hence with our eyes wide open," said Bayard sadly, "and the King knew it was probably too good to be true, but it was so wonderful he did not dare to ignore it even so."

"It little matters," laughed that dark voice in growing eagerness and menace, "all that matters is that you have come and now my plans shall find their fulfillment."

"What is this all about?" queried the Captain, strangely more curious than afraid.

"Long ago was I cursed to walk this wretched forest and never again to stir beneath sun and star until the price of innocent blood was met," said the villain, a deeper stain in the ambient gloom.

Bayard frowned, "are there no innocents beneath these grim trees, that you must lure mortal men into your net?"

The shadowed fiend mocked, "know you so little of this place and its denizens? But that must indeed be the case if your King thought for even a moment my little offer might be the least bit true! I am counted virtuous indeed by the standards of this place, if such villains should ever be loosed, it will be the end of your pathetic little world!"

"What is this place then?" asked Garren in morbid curiosity.

"It seems you know nothing of history, let alone legend and myth!" said the villain in wonder at their ignorance, "I suppose you think this Wood merely a place haunted by elves and pixies and other immortal folk with little interest in men or the outside world?" At their avid nod, he laughed uproariously in scorn, "no wonder your King bit so easily at my meager bait! Little fools, know you not that this place is thoroughly evil and corrupted beyond redemption yet you wander herein as heedless as toddlers lost in a little copse! Once the world was bright and wonderful and new, before men rebelled and brought sin and death and chaos into that formerly perfect sphere.

Men multiplied and spread over the whole face of the world, but so too did other evils flourish, for men had kicked open the door and many were swift to take advantage thereof, so much so that man himself might have passed into myth had the Great Enemy not taken it into his head to interfere upon that foolish race's behalf. So it was he set a border wherein such evils might be contained, even this accursed Wood, leaving the rest of creation as the habitation of men, save those far, wild haunts wherein the other races have chosen to secret themselves, all save the most evil and vile examples of each race, many of whom have been exiled herein for their evil, never to stir here from save when the Price of innocent blood is met."

"What of the ancient ruins said to lie in the heart of this place?" queried Bayard, "And our little Kingdom set like an island amidst this terrible sea?"

"Your precious ruins are but the remnants of an ancient Kingdom of men, the place where he first woke to look upon the world and the place he and all the world fell into darkness, the very center of this accursed Wood!" spat the stranger, "As for your pathetic little realm, you are cut off from all other nations, save for one narrow Path through this trackless Wood, whereon no denizen hereof may set foot, but that is the result of your bold and foolish forebears, who in seeking sanctuary from the evils of their former lords and homelands, rebelled and fled in the night, and thought to make a Kingdom where peace and joy and kindness might be enjoyed by all, hence did they hew a ridiculous fiefdom out of the stark reality of this dreadful Wood. But fear not, I shall soon blot out that offensive spot of delusion from reality and set all to rights, before the whole world shall meet a like fate: to be covered over entirely by chaos, evil, and death forever! Now on your knees, fools!"

"No!" said both men together, standing their ground and daring the fiend to do his worst, but refusing to die like men condemned to death for some shameful act.

"This could have been easy and painless," hissed the thwarted villain, "but you just had to be stubborn! Very well, we shall visit those ruins in which you find so much idle curiosity, come!" The world darkened about them into infinite night, and when they could again see, again they stood in that grim, night dark ruin. "This is the proper place for such things anyway," said their creepy companion, so swathed in black fabric that they could in nowise make out any more details about him here than they could amid the murk of the Wood. "But let's get on with it, I've a world to conquer..." He drew a cruel knife and they knew nothing more but pain and darkness, save a strange, strangled scream as of a tortured rabbit or dying horse, before they knew nothing, were nothing at all.

He knelt in one corner of that ruin, ancient beyond comprehension, and surveyed the grim scene. As he watched, the ever present mist crept slowly from the periphery and flooded the entire courtyard, an eerie glow perfusing it all, like lightning in the heart of a thunderhead, but it didn't flash or waver but shone as constant as the sun upon a noonday. When it blindly encountered the murdered men in the midst of the courtyard, it engulfed the bodies like the tide washing away a child's castle of sand upon the shore, as the corpses grew misty and radiant for a moment and then lost all distinction, absorbed forever into the radiant brume. There was no sign of the fiend who had done the fell deed, but no scream of triumph was that which had echoed in their ears the moment before they knew nothing at all.

Garren stood at last, knowing there was no hiding from that weird mist, if it was to be his undoing, he might as well face it as boldly as he had faced everything upon this most peculiar day, but then he had just watched his own corpse vanish into this enigmatic fog, if he was already dead, what worse could it do to him? As he moved, so too did another creature stir in that eerie courtyard, he reached for his sword, wondering if it might avail him against the phantom he saw near the far wall, a creature wrought of that radiant mist, like the man he had encountered upon his previous visit hence.

He froze, and finally studied what he could see of himself, and could not help but stare and smile ruefully, for he was as mist-wrought as either of the specters of current or previous acquaintance. He raised his eyes to look anew upon his companion and caught the same wondering look in the misty eyes of Bayard. They shared an enigmatical smile before running to meet one another in the center of the ruined courtyard, greeting one another as long sundered brothers who thought never to meet again under the mortal stars.

Laughed Bayard in pure delight, "I think it was that villain who was the unwitting fool."

"But how?" asked Garren in perplexity.

"Our previous adventure in this place," mused the other.

"We had been claimed by Another," said Garren in sudden understanding, "our lives, our souls, our bodies, the very blood in our veins, and He was not willing to share with the least of all villains, especially for so grim a purpose and in such a place! His greed was his own undoing!"

"But what is this place?" asked Bayard pensively.

"The place where the world was broken but also the key to its redemption!" chirped the magpie, flitting to a low place in the crumbling wall, both of His servants on their knees in eager awe before Him. Continued He, "the price of sin and rebellion is Death, and here it was that Death was unleashed upon the world, but so too did Death die in its very moment of perceived triumph. I came Myself, to pay the Price no one else could pay, that men might again know Light and Life and Joy! As your blood covered these stones, so too did Mine, back in the first days of the world, when men thought themselves too wise to need Me any longer and thought to prove it by slaying the very Author of Life! But anyone can still find Me, if he will. Off with you, children, for you have an adventure to be about!" He flitted off into the perpetual gloom of that place, leaving the pair to exchange a look of pure wonder and delight, before the murk deepened about them, engulfing them utterly.

The horse shook his mane, lazily trying to dislodge a few biting insects that thought to take advantage of his indolence, but his ears pricked suddenly as he whickered a greeting to the pair of men that suddenly stood there as if they had never left. They exchanged another of those mystified looks and soon regained their saddles, but they did not turn their steps homeward, rather they thought to betake themselves elsewhere upon a very curious errand. Said Bayard as he kicked his horse to a faster pace, "now what are we about?"

Garren smiled eagerly, "the very errand the King has set us, if not exactly with the person who sent him the original letter."

"I thought so," said Bayard in wonder, "but was rather surprised at my own fancy and temerity therewith, do you think the elves will be any better to deal with than that fiendish fellow? Especially with such an impertinent request?"

"It isn't even our idea," mused Garren, "but rather His, we are merely the messengers." Laughed he, "besides, I doubt there is much worse they can do to us than we have already lived through on this strangest of days."

"Quite true, my friend," grinned Bayard like a rascally lad, but glancing thoughtfully at his own hand, he asked, "we look no different, was it all not a strange dream?"

"I believe our physical appearance is the only thing that hasn't changed," said Garren eagerly, and adding with a chuckle, "I wonder if that lieutenant of mine even knows as much about this as we do, which is to say nothing at all!"

"That will certainly be an intriguing question to put to the man," agreed Bayard distractedly, "but what of our looming quest?"

Garren laughed, "we could traipse into the ruin at the very heart of that cursed Wood with impunity, at least when ordered to do so, what can't we do at His bidding?"

"Yes," mused Bayard, "though we may have all eternity to figure out this latest puzzle, the King however has a mere eighty years in which we must do so and I'm sure he would far rather marry sooner than later."

"I believe you've guessed at least half of the riddle, my friend," said Garren, "time is no longer a consideration to us, but what of place?"

"Curious thought indeed," smiled Bayard eagerly, "perhaps we shall return in time even if it does take us centuries to figure it out ourselves."

Garren frowned thoughtfully, "how far have you been down this Road?"

"I've never ventured beyond the confines of our little realm, certainly," said Bayard, intrigued, "nor has anyone in our lifetime, at least that I have ever heard tell of, though this Path supposedly cleaves safely through the Wood and connects our tiny Kingdom with the rest of the world."

"I think it is about time someone tried just that," said Garren, urging his horse onward, as the gloomy Wood drew close about them, as if the branches were grasping arms anxious to tear them from their saddles and consume them utterly. The horses whinnied in terror and hastened their pace, uneasy in the shadow of those trees, while the men on their backs exchanged a look of pure exhilaration, feeling none of the dread that seemed to consume their mounts and anyone else who thought to tread that path unheeding. But at last the stygian Wood thinned and vanished behind them, revealing a wide land free of its haunting specter.

"How strange," said Bayard in wonder, "to see so far and not be hemmed in by that evil thicket!"

Garren shook his head, "but so too has it sheltered our little country from the storms of war and tyranny that so often wrack the wider world, such did our forbears flee into the Wood's very midst, and therein did our Master offer them shelter from the storms without and the Wood they dwelt within. And now we have returned to gaze upon this disquiet place."

"Nay my friend," smiled Bayard, "we are not merely sightseers and tourists, rather we have a mission. Now how to find the homeland of the elfin race?"

"Perhaps I could help you?" said a quizzical voice, drawing two sets of startled but not displeased eyes upon himself. Continued the boy, unusually lithe for a child of men, "I have long been a visitor in the lands of men, so perhaps it is time I repaid your hospitality in kind, unless of course you are right villains meaning no good towards me and mine?"

Garren barked a delighted laugh, "nay lad, we've a mad request to make of your King, but even if he should refuse us, no greater harm shall come of it than the disappointment of a few meager mortal dreams."

"By your words," said the elfin boy, taking off the floppy hat that concealed the pointed ears that would betray his heritage to all and sundry, "I take it you are just come from what might be the mythic 'Hidden Kingdom,' said to lurk somewhere within the Haunted Wood?"

"Not so much within as surrounded by," agreed Bayard curiously, "are there such tales in these broad outlands? I would not say our country is all that different from all the others in the world, save perhaps a penchant for joy and kindness rather than war, tyranny, and chaos."

"So the legends say," mused the elf, "and glad would I be to encounter such a place! My own realm is rife with everything noble and high, but it is often cold, pitiless and proud. I have encountered a little kindness amongst men, far more than I ever found at home, but it is as you say: the world is riddled with fear and doubt and hatred, chaos, sorrow, and death. I have come in search of this little country of yours, but if I fail to find it, I had resolved to ride home immediately thereafter."

"Would you see our country first or take us to your own?" asked Bayard eagerly.

"You gentlemen are upon a quest bent?" replied the elf boy.

Garren nodded, "quite."

Replied the elf, "then let us be about your quest, for I am merely seeking my own pleasure, that and you mortals are so dreadfully short lived that perhaps your lives will be utterly spent ere our errand is accomplished?"

"I hope it is not that far to your homeland," chuckled Garren warmly.

"Not by the paths I shall lead you," said the boy eagerly, "but you must show me how to reach your own strange country, in case something happens to part us ere I can accompany you thither."

"I suppose you must ride towards the Wood," said Bayard, "but not into it, skirt the edges in this vicinity until you come to a little path, hardly wide enough for two men abreast, and follow it faithfully into the very heart of our realm."

"Your own paths can skirt time, space, or both?" asked Garren eagerly.

"Quite easily," said the boy, "though I cannot promise when or where they might carry mortal creatures, if you are separated from me and try to tread them on your own."

"This is certainly a day of novel revelations," said Bayard in wonder, "but come my friend, show us what you will that it might speed our quest thereby."

Cautioned the boy, "I must warn you before we begin, that I cannot guarantee how my folk will receive either you or your so-called mad request. If they are displeased, it may well be fatal."

"Understood," said Bayard with an impish grin that seemed to defy the gravity of their companion's words, making the elf wonder if he had been properly understood.

"Let's be about it then," said the Elf, Ithril by name, mounting his own horse and reining the creature around sharply, the two men in close and eager pursuit. The world suddenly seemed to shift around them, as if time and space were no longer constant but rather an ever shifting sea that could be navigated by those who knew the currents, depths, and tides of that strange ocean. Strangely the men felt fully comfortable therein, but then they had been pulled out of the constancy of time like fish out of the water, though they had yet to become masters of this new reality, at least they felt at home therein.

Finally the world quit swirling about them and they stood in another time and place entirely, said the elf brightly, "I believe we have arrived in my homeland a full fortnight before the date of our meeting. Now you may make your request of my father and still have time enough to explore my country and meet some of my folk before we return to the place of our meeting to commence on our next adventure into your own native realm."

"Your father is the King of the elves?!" said Garren in surprise.

"Yes," said the boy, "but it is unlikely that he'll ever have need of an heir, hence a Prince of the Elves is really of little more account to his people than anyone else, which is not a bad thing, I think."

"There are certainly many things that will take some getting used to in this strange new world we've entered," mused Garren, Bayard nodded in understanding but the elf thought he meant only this visit to his homeland rather than life beyond time and death.

"How do your folk feel about mortal men?" asked Bayard, as they rode off towards the main elven settlement.

Ithril snorted a laugh, "their views are as varied as those of men upon the topic of elves. There is outright antipathy in some hearts, others think them utterly beneath contempt, some are curious, others indifferent, while some are kind hearted or friendly and others pity the mortal race."

"But none think Men a myth," smiled Garren slightly.

"There is that indeed, my friend," agreed the elf smilingly, "for enough of us have strayed into mortal lands over the years and there are ever a few bold men visiting the royal court and library that we can in nowise doubt your existence." His eyes narrowed slightly as he asked, "might I ask what you are wishing to ask my father?"

The pair exchanged a curious smile, but feeling it would be better to know how the King might take their request beforehand, even if it might offend their new friend, it would be better than so grievously offending the very King of Elvendom. Said Garren quietly, "we were sent to ask your father if one of your royal sisters might wed the King of the Hidden Realm."

"You are bold indeed, my friends!" said Ithril in surprise, but there was no offense or anger in his tone, "I do not know how my father would take such news, no one has ever been bold enough to ask nor has any elf ever considered a union with the mortal race. But speaking for my sister, I will say she might at least consider the matter, perhaps she should accompany us upon our proposed foray, if my father approves?"

"That would be just the thing, I am sure," said Bayard happily, "but is your father as open to such ideas as the younger generation?"

"There is a question indeed," said the elf grimly, "for he is as old as the world and well might he take it amiss that a creature that will live barely a century would wish to wed his only daughter! Your King is bold indeed to ask!"

Bayard shook his head, "nay sir, it is not of his asking, rather he received a very curious letter, supposedly from the elvenfolk, proposing just that, but it was a fake meant only to lure men into the Haunted Wood. Having survived that adventure, we thought we might ask if such a union could ever be, our King has no idea what we are about in this matter."

"You are very strange and faithful servants of your master," said Ithril in surprise, "who would venture into that Wood, even upon such a proposition?"

"Fools no doubt," chuckled Garren, "which may make you reconsider your openness to our mad proposal."

"Nay my friends," mused the elf, "for a man to inspire such devotion in his servants, he must be a man of character indeed and eager am I to meet him." They exchanged a happy smile and continued on their way.

Very soon they were trotting through the strange, at least to their human eyes, city of the elves, Ithril much enjoying their wide-eyed appreciation of the novelties about them. At last they drew rein in a complex that seemed far more garden or natural rock formation than palace, but so it was. They entered a great hall wherein it seemed court had just broken up, for all sorts of wonderful and important seeming personages could be seen speaking together in little clumps scattered all over the vast room. As they strode past a group containing three elves and a man, one of the elves stopped the Prince to exchange greetings, leaving his human companions to study the strange man in perplexity before exchanging a wondering look.

"Do you know that man?" said Garren to Bayard quietly.

"I do indeed!" grinned the other wryly, "I wonder if he remembers us?"

Cautioned Garren, "by our elvish companion's estimate, we shan't meet for another fortnight yet, so I doubt he would remember something that has yet to happen, but perhaps he knows something of the predicament in which we find ourselves?"

"Perhaps," mused Bayard, "but then again, much could happen in two weeks!"

Garren shook his head in wonder, "are you thinking what I am thinking?"

"I am afraid I am," said the other in astonishment, "you were quite correct, there is much we must learn about this confounding new life!" As Bayard finished speaking, the Prince's companion rejoined his original party, allowing both groups to resume their former activities, but not before Garren caught the other man's eye, and smiled brightly while nodding at the fellow, who returned the gesture, both hoping to speak later in the day.

Said the Prince amiably, "I see you have already begun to introduce yourselves around the Court, is it not as I said?"

"Certainly," said Bayard happily, "are most such men scholars or do they have a political agenda?"

The elf laughed heartily at the latter, "like you, my friends? There are ever some of both hanging about the place, though my father has little enough patience for any sort of political aspirations involving other countries or races not our own. Ah, here we are!" said he, addressing the servant on duty outside the ornate door before which they stood, "let us see if my father is free for an audience."

"Business before pleasure," quipped Bayard.

Ithril smiled drolly and retorted, "and hopefully you shall live to enjoy the latter."

"Indeed," said Garren, "I very much wish to acquaint myself better with your folk and lands!"

"It would indeed be a pity to miss such a pleasure," agreed their elvish companion, "but I do not think my father will call for your heads, though banishment from his demesne might be in order."

The servant returned and held wide the door, bowing as they passed and shutting the door after them. Said the very regal elf at the far end of the splendid room, rising eagerly to his feet to greet his long absent son, "you have returned at last! Have you seen and experienced all you anticipated?"

The boy bowed appropriately, as did his silent companions, patiently waiting their own turn as the Prince replied, "not quite Sire, I have one final quest I would like to attempt before settling once more quietly at home, and these gentlemen have graciously agreed to help me upon my way, but first they have a small matter of business with you, if you would humor them?"

"Certainly," said the King, nodding graciously, "anyone of whom my son can speak so cordially must be worthy folk indeed, well met I say. Now what would you have of me?"

Garren bowed deeply and said, "we were sent upon a perilous quest by our sovereign, the King of the Hidden Realm, but under false pretenses. Having survived the ordeal yet failing in the fulfillment of our quest, false though it was, we thought to see if there was any possibility that it might yet come to fruition. A dreadful mage within the Haunted Wood sent a letter to our master proposing that an elven Princess might be his bride if only he had the courage to answer the summons. We all knew it likely folly, but daren't disoblige the sender in case there was the slightest chance it might be true. We rode forth in earnest, only to be set upon by the fiend hoping to gain his freedom at our expense but were miraculously rescued from the situation, and upon meeting your son, we thought to ask of you this most improbable, and perhaps impossible, question, of which our lord is absolutely ignorant. If you find yourself grieved or offended by our proposition, let the consequences fall full upon us, for our master is in nowise culpable."

"What a strange tale!" said the King in astonishment, "You are bold, both to ask what you do and to venture into the Wood!" Added he in a more thoughtful tone, "but you are well spoken and polite, even if you are audacious. Your faithfulness to your master touches me, which I believe must speak well for his character and yours. But what you ask! I have but one daughter and though I have made no plans for her future nuptials, can I truly give her hand to one who will live a mere fifty years?" He frowned at this and then continued, "but then she would be free to marry again, if she would, and there is nothing in our laws or culture to prevent such a union. I will leave the decision to her alone, for it can be considered nothing but a childish fancy or at worst a youthful indiscretion, should it please her to do just that. And please, be my guests for as long as it pleases you."

Both men bowed cordially, as Garren answered, "thank you Sire, you are most gracious. Her brother has proposed a visit to our country and perhaps his sister might accompany us?"

"But the Haunted Wood," whispered the King in utmost dismay.

"Surrounds our little country upon all sides, save a little path leading to the broader lands of Men," agreed Garren, "but the residents of that dreadful forest are no more allowed to touch us than they are any other Kingdom or Realm, be they neighbors or not. And if she should choose in favor of our King, it will be her home for a little while."

"And this would be an excellent chance for them to get to know one another and for her to see the land she might rule beside him," mused the King, "very well, she may go if she wishes, neither will I interfere in this matter, as I have allowed my only son to come and go as it pleases him." They all bowed their thanks, exchanged a few more cordial words, and then withdrew, as it seemed the King had another appointment.

"That went very well," said Ithril, quite impressed.

"A day of miracles indeed," smiled Bayard widely, "but come, will you show us around your palace and its grounds, if they are not one and the same?"

"Quite," said Ithril eagerly, dashing off with all the exuberance of a boy of ten wanting to impress his little friends, his companions close upon his heels.

Later that afternoon, Ithril said he had several pressing matters to which he must attend and gave them into the keeping of one of the servants to be settled in their apartments in his absence, an eventuality for which they were strangely eager, for the Prince had bade them farewell only moments before the familiar stranger they had seen that morning came in search of them. The servant bowed himself out, leaving the three men alone. Said the newcomer eagerly, "welcome, my friends, welcome! I see you have come with the Prince upon his return, are you merely here as his companions or have you other business with these most noble folk?"

"We had a question to ask of the King," said Bayard evenly, "and he has most graciously answered us, leaving us free to meet others and explore this most intriguing country."

"It is well that your quest is so easily and early accomplished," agreed their companion amiably, "and as I am here upon my own initiative, scholar that I am, I am quite at my leisure should you wish my company for any reason."

"That is very kind of you," said Garren, "have you traveled extensively in your intriguing career?"

"Certainly," said the man happily, "I've been to many strange and distant lands, gladly would I tell you of my travels, but only if you wish it, for I know how dull such stories can be to those who do not ask to hear them."

"That's perhaps the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me," laughed Bayard appreciatively, but adding soberly, "have you ever strayed into the Haunted Wood?"

"Certainly not!" said the man in horror, "None can venture therein and live to tell the tale nor are the inmates allowed abroad!"

The others exchanged a mystified look, before Garren asked, trying to calm the man's excited sensibilities, "you have told us you are a scholar, what in particular do you study?"

He studied them for a long, silent moment, as if wondering what his coming revelation would mean for their budding acquaintance, said he at last, "your friend is correct in saying I would like to enter the Haunted Wood, but what mortal would dare?, for in its heart lies an old ruin that is the very center of all the old tales and legends of which I am but a poor student." He dared either to scoff or laugh, but they merely smiled slightly, mysterious and pleased. "Who are you?" said he bluntly, "Why do you draw me in a way I cannot explain yet also terrifying me in a way quite unlike that dread Wood?"

"Because you want what we have," said Garren, little knowing from whence the words sprang, "but you also know it will be the end of everything you once called normal."

"Then give me this thing," said the man, trembling in both fear and anticipation, "even if it destroys me, let it be unto me as you have spoken."

"Very well," said Garren, rising slowly to his feet and holding out a hand as this very man had done to him, or rather would soon do. The man licked his lips nervously, but there was such a light of joy in his eyes as he stood, that Garren took a bold step towards him, his hand glowing with an eerie light, wan in that bright room, and not quite solid, though the rest of the man seemed wrought of flesh and bone rather than mist. The man gasped upon seeing the radiant appendage but took another step towards that eldritch hand, falling back as it touched his breastbone, that strange light playing over his body like lightning through a cloud.

"He's dead!" said Bayard, kneeling beside the stricken form.

"Perhaps I should have told you I had a heart condition?" grinned the man brightly, standing beside the gaping Captain, as mist wrought as upon their first meeting, and studying his own corpse with delighted indifference. He glanced at his own person and said in wonder, "this will never do!" Suddenly he was as solid as either of the others, who exchanged another of those mystified glances as they watched his antics. "Now," said he, all business, "can you tell me what this is all about?"

"No," said Bayard with a wide grin, "because we know nothing ourselves, in fact we had hoped you could tell us aught of this madness, but it seems you are as clueless as we are."

He frowned at the boy in incomprehension, said Garren with a wry grin, "what my friend means to say is that we have met previously, though not yet in your own perception, and being in this service before us, we had hoped you might know a little about it."

His eyes narrowed and he said pensively, "how curious! But then if you have been traveling with an elf, you can certainly flout the regular laws of time and space, so we shall meet in some future when but you have come back in time before that meeting." He smiled like joy itself, "you asked me about the Haunted Wood?"

"Yes," smiled Garren, "we met in a certain ruin at its very heart, in fact you are the one who drew us into this strange business!"

"And you have just initiated me?!" said the scholar in wonder, "This is truly an intriguing profession, whatever it be!" He glanced at his corpse and said wryly, "now what is to come of that? I am sure our hosts won't be content with any excuse we might invent between us."

Bayard, still kneeling thereby, reached out a glowing hand and touched the inert form, which immediately faded to mist and moonshine, eliciting a little gasp from the former occupant, at which they all exchanged a rather amused grin.

"Now what?" asked the man, Tobin by name.

"We are to return home, the Hidden Kingdom as the outer world calls it, with the Prince and perhaps his sister," said Bayard, "beyond that we haven't a clue."

Suddenly Garren said to Tobin, "I have an assignment for you, up until this very eventful morning, I was the Captain of the King's Guard in our little realm, I was possessed of a rather smug Lieutenant who is at this very moment dying of pneumonia. I believe it would be just the thing if you would pay him a visit, during the day mind you, I'm wont to watch by his bedside of an evening, and introduce him to this nonsense just as we've initiated you and you'll soon do to us. If he balks, tell him it's a direct order!"

"Yes, sir!" saluted the man with a grin, vanishing suddenly like mist in the dawning.

"It's nice to have minions again," mused the Captain happily.

"I think you have the right of it, sir," smiled Bayard, adding a hasty salute of his own.

"Gracious, I am!" said the newly crowned Captain, of what in particular he wasn't certain, but whatever their strange service, he knew himself the leader thereof.

Tobin materialized out of the morning mist, draping everything in that distant land, only a little house and a few trees visible in the enveloping brume. He watched a figure he immediately recognized as the unquickened Captain stride out of the house and off to his morning duties, leaving the stricken Lieutenant's bedside for a time unwarded. He slipped silently into the house, saw no relatives or servants about, and then turned to look upon the wasted form upon the bed.

"Come sir," said he brightly, "I've come at your Captain's behest."

At these strange words, the sick man blinked in bleary-eyed confusion, saying weakly, "the Captain's just left..."

"It's an order, soldier," said Tobin quietly.

"An order!?" flinched the boy, "I'll do what I can but..."

"No buts," smiled Tobin gently, "just duty."

"Yes sir," saluted the man weakly, as Tobin laid a gentle hand upon his chest, for a moment the light played over the stricken boy as he lapsed into a fevered sleep. Tobin smiled wryly to himself, for even a dying man could endure whatever it was he had just done but apparently his own weakened mortal heart could not!, before fading into the rising dawn, perhaps he'd be off to explore a certain old ruin next! The Lieutenant slept on, thinking it all a fever dream, at least until that very night when he breathed his last.

Ithril returned some hours later, with what could only be his sister in tow. Said he brightly in greeting, "she would be delighted to accompany us, my friends! What say you?"

Said Garren eagerly, "we'd happily accompany you both! We may leave at your leisure; we are quite at your service. Would you show us more of this lovely land of yours or explore the oddities of our own realm?"

"I would fain be off immediately," said Ithril eagerly, "but would just as happily show you about my country first, if that be your preference?"

"Let's be off then," said Garren eagerly, "if we are all agreed?" Everyone nodded their happy concurrence and immediately they began their preparations to leave, not that there was much to prepare, considering how quickly the elves could move from one time or place to another.

As the elves scampered off to make their farewells of their father, Bayard said quietly to his Captain, "the evening is well advanced, sir."

"Yes," said Garren, curiously glancing out the darkened window, "I believe we can see well enough in the dark, if we must."

"It isn't that, sir," said the boy pensively, "the moon suddenly troubles me greatly."

"It's an old moon," said Garren quietly, "and little threat to us, whatever betide, though now that you mention it, I suddenly find myself equally cautious therewith, but why?"

Bayard shook his head, "that was two weeks from now, sir!"

"Indeed?!" said the Captain in shock that he had quite forgotten such an interesting matter, "Then we'd best keep out of its light until we are sure what it means for us. Can it be done without eliciting any suspicions on the part of our companions?"

"I think so," said Bayard, "this whole place seems more a forest or cave than a palace, I believe we can keep to the shadows well enough until we are safely in our saddles and upon our way."

"I wonder what it means for us?" mused Garren pensively, "We are not werewolves or some such, cursed by its light."

"Perhaps since it seems to compose our very beings," answered Bayard, "it shows us for what we are?"

"Whatever that is!" laughed Garren, "But I do believe you have the right of it. Let's be cautious though, whatever betide."

"Well let's be off, my friends!" said the Prince, suddenly bursting into the room, "All our arrangements have been made and our farewells said."

"Gladly," said Garren, sharing an eager grin with Bayard, "lead on my friend!"

They made their way down to the stables, happily all overshadowed by the exuberant growth and curious architecture of the elven palace, and once in their saddles, the whole world shifted strangely about them. Said the Prince, once the world resolved itself into steady solidity once more, "I believe it is the very night of our meeting, that we not accidentally stumble upon our former selves, rather careless that!"

"This way," said Garren, reining his horse back the way they had come only that morning, happy for a sky full of stars with no sign of the traitorous moon.

"Is this?" began the lady, to which Bayard gravely replied, "The Haunted Wood, milady, yes it surrounds all the Hidden Kingdom and lurks upon both sides of the Path, but fear not, it and its denizens can in nowise trouble or harm you, only if you stray within its murk are you doomed."

They rode single file, Garren leading and Bayard bringing up the rear, for none wanted to ride two abreast so that the very tips of the branches on either side might inadvertently brush their shoulders, harmless as it should be. "Perhaps I should have brought us back during daylight hours," mused Ithril to no one in particular.

"It little matters," said Garren, "we shall soon be out of this choking thicket even so."

"I think not," spat a hideous creature just then crawling out of the Woods into the Path before them.

"How is it you are free of the Wood?" said the Captain in wonder, reaching for his sword.

"There are ways," hissed the dreadful thing, for none could put a more precise name to the shapeless black mass with its glowing eyes and dreadful teeth but possessed of no other distinguishable feature.

"Move aside," said Garren sternly, "let us pass and trouble no other passersby who tread this Path."

"Make me!" challenged the monstrosity.

"Very well," said he, leaping from his saddle, sword at the fore.

"Foolish mortal," chortled the thing, "not even those elf children can thwart me, what makes you think a mere man can?"

The Captain exchanged a knowing look with Bayard before answering, "let's call it a hunch." The fiend lunged for the obstreperous man, impaling itself on his bared sword, before dissolving into a gelatinous black ooze with a hideous groan. Garren was soon enough in his saddle, exchanging curious and horrified glances with all and sundry, but none tarrying long in that place, wishing only to be done with that interminable journey, but if the creature could invade the Path, could it not also invade the Kingdom or the outer world? But where to find the answers he sought? Perhaps it was a fluke, peculiar to that particular horror alone, but why the sudden recruitment of men into this strange profession if there wasn't some need of their peculiar services? That thought sent a shudder down his spine, but his Master's provision brought a broad smile to his face, one that would have sent any minion of evil scurrying should it be aimed in their direction.

At last they returned to the place where this entire adventure had begun: Kipril's little house. Said the Captain, alighting from his saddle outside the door, "as it is so late, I think we should spend the night here and proceed to the palace upon the morrow, unless anyone is averse to the idea? It shall in nowise be grand, but we shall receive a homely and merry reception nonetheless."

"We would be most delighted," said Ithril eagerly, helping his sister from her saddle. Bayard gathered up their reins and saw to the horses while Garren led the way within, calling for his Lieutenant as he did so, but there came no answer but the rather aggrieved and angry voice of the old woman that occasionally saw to the domestic side of things for the Lieutenant and had watched over him by day during his recent illness while the Captain attended him at night.

"What are you doing here?" squawked she in dismay, "The poor man is just out of a sickbed and already back at his post, and what with the mayhem up at the castle, how is it you are here and not doing your duty likewise?"

"We were sent off this very morning by the King himself on some dread mission, madam," said Garren quietly, "and are only now arrived. What is it that has happened in our absence?"

"It's like winter itself walked the streets, right around noon, when the sun should have been at its brightest, it was suddenly like a winter night!" said she, relishing the chance to relive her story, "We commoners ducked indoors and haven't stirred outside since, but whatever it is, went right on past us and sits at the very doors of the castle, demanding entrance or biding its time, or some such, none have been bold enough to go closer to find out."

"That will shortly be rectified," said Garren, again loosing his sword in its sheath, "please see to the comfort of our guests while we attend to this monstrosity, or whatever it is."

"But there's only the master's bed and the sofa!" protested she, studying these noble seeming guests in their outlandish and elegant finery.

"It shall suffice," grinned Garren wryly, "besides, I'll order your master to sleep elsewhere if I must, whatever betide, I doubt any of us will be sleeping much this night." He bowed cordially to the elves and said, "is this agreeable to you?"

"Certainly not," said Ithril stiffly, as the housekeeper nodded her own abhorrence at such a suggestion, but it was not the spartan sleeping arrangements he was protesting, continued he, "I will not lodge safely here whilst you risk your life in this dangerous pursuit."

"What of your lady sister?" asked Bayard.

"She will be as safe here as anywhere in this imperiled realm," said he quietly, "indeed, I think there is little I could do to thwart such a danger did it present itself before me."

"In that you are quite correct," said the Captain grimly, "very well, you may accompany us, but only if your sister is amenable?"

She nodded her head vigorously, saying quietly, "I am sure the lady will see to my comfort and we will be quite content here until your return."

"And if they shouldn't return?" said the astounded housekeeper.

"Then I doubt we will long grieve their absence," said the girl practically. The housekeeper squawked in terror but the others exchanged a grim smile of farewell before the men trotted out the door and hastened for the castle, leaving their horses, knowing this dread foe was like to prove too much for the sensibilities of the ridiculous creatures and wishing to spare themselves a needless fall.

Halfway to their destination, they drew aside into a quiet street, abandoned at that hour, especially with such an aura of fear hanging over everything in that disquiet realm. Said Garren grimly to the Prince, "you are walking willingly into Death itself."

Ithril drew himself up at the perceived challenge and asked, "why can I not if you two are free to do so?"

"It is our country," said Bayard quietly, "that and we are equipped to deal with such dread things."

"As your friend demonstrated on the ride hither," mused Ithril, "very well, can I join you?"

"That would also be the death of you," said the Captain quietly, "at least of all you formerly called life."

Ithril barked a laugh, "as if this adventure won't truly be the death of me, making all such considerations moot!"

Garren held out a glowing hand, "I can avail you, though it seems one must walk through death's door before it manifests itself."

Ithril frowned slightly, "what of you two?"

It was the Captain's turn to laugh, "did I not say we had ventured into this cursed Wood? We found miraculous rescue, but we are no longer counted amongst mortal men!"

"I will take the adventure set before me," said Ithril in rising eagerness, stepping forward to receive the Captain's bright palm upon his chest, collapsing immediately into darkness, but Bayard roused him with his own glowing hand. Smiled the elfin boy wryly, "this is no time for fainting! Thank you, my friends, let us meet this dread foe, perhaps I shall discover what strange quest I have set myself."

Garren laughed joyously, "we are all new to this lad, but welcome aboard! I do not even know the name of our strange service, but it seems we know what we must when we must." They trotted off once more, more eager than ever to face this grim menace, whatever it be.

"There!" said Bayard as they came around a corner, bringing the back of the castle into view, where some monstrous shadowy thing seemed intent on quite literally chewing its way through the wall.

"Ho, creature!" cried the Captain, darting out into the open, sword bared. The monster roared its abhorrence of all mortal creatures and turned to face this impertinent little gnat. As Garren closed with the monster, he called to his companions, "see what else you can find, my friends, I'll deal with this thing!" It lunged in at him with its rock-shredding teeth, forcing him to defend himself as the others raced past, wondering what other horrors might await on the far side of the palace walls.

They circled around to the front of the castle to find every available guardsman posted upon the walls, bow in hand, and the gates firmly shut. Mocked a black clad villain before the gates, hundreds of arrows littering the ground around him but nary a hole in his voluminous cloak, "you will open to me eventually, you ridiculous fools, or I will find another way in, either way, your doom is at hand! It will go the easier for you if you surrender willingly rather than I be forced to come in after you..."

"I wonder where the Lieutenant is?" mused Bayard, "And why he hasn't dealt with this villain?"

"Perhaps he has been vanquished by this or another evil?" asked Ithril.

"Then we'd best see that this creature is dealt with swiftly ere such a fate befalls us likewise," said Bayard, drawing his sword, but Ithril made no reply save a strangled gurgle, as he fell with his throat torn out by some shadowy monster, but no sooner did his mortal shell fall than a delighted misty figure stood beside the astonished Bayard, his own sword at the ready. The elf easily dispatched his killer, draped himself in a mortal guise, and looked expectantly at Bayard, who laughed, "you're a quick learner, but we'd best see to your mortal remains, if you'll allow me?"

"By all means, let us avoid awkward questions," agreed Ithril, as his mortal shell evaporated in that beautiful light, he proffered his sword and said, "now for the villain!" He dashed out into the open space before the gates, sword raised, crying aloud, "come fiend, let us see if your boasts are true!" He evaporated in a gout of black flame as the fell sorcery cast a defensive spell, but this allowed Bayard the moment he needed to stab the fiend in the back, whereupon he followed his victim into nothingness.

Recognizing the King's dearest friend and seeing themselves rescued from the tauntings of the fiend whom no arrow could touch, the guards immediately set to cheering, even more so as one of the men stationed at the back of the palace dashed forward to say the monster chewing its way through the wall had likewise been defeated and by their own Captain too! Garren raced to the front gate, exchanged a joyous smile with Bayard, and both looked expectantly towards the gate, waiting for it to be opened that they might apprise the King of this and their other various adventures of the day.

Ithril fell into flaming darkness for a moment, then knew nothing at all, and a moment later, he found that he could draw himself together out of the mist blindly wandering the streets beside the river, abutting the little house wherein his sister waited anxiously for some word from these would-be heroes. He donned a mortal guise and hastened within, stopping short to feel a blade suddenly hovering over his heart. The fierce eyed man immediately dropped his blade upon recognizing of what particular race was the hasty intruder and hearing the excited lady cry aloud in delight. "Forgive me," said Kipril ruefully, "but it has been a strange day."

"Probably no stranger than my own," grinned the elven youth brightly, "and certainly less peculiar than your Captain's own." He cocked his head, "has there been any trouble here?"

"No," said Kipril cautiously, "I am just returned myself to find I have guests."

"An importunity you shall have to take up with your Captain," smiled Ithril like mirth itself, "but we are all in the same profession, so I think you might forgive us both."

"Truly," said the boy in wonder, "then it has been a busy day indeed! From whence have you come?"

"Confronting some horrid mage that stands at the castle gate," said Ithril, "while the Captain confronts the monstrous thing attacking the back wall."

"I too fell afoul of that grim sorcerer," said Kipril, "but glad am I to hear that reinforcements have come."

"Perhaps we should all hie ourselves thither?" asked Ithril hopefully.

"Not me!" said the housekeeper determinedly, "I've little desire to go to the palace on a normal day, and certainly not on this one!"

"Milady?" asked Kipril, unable to keep from smiling at the servant's decisive comment.

"It would be my pleasure to accompany you, Lieutenant," smiled she beauteously, "it has been rather dull here and perhaps a true adventure awaits within the palace walls, if not without."

Kipril bowed graciously, vanished outside to prepare the horses, and soon enough they were riding towards the castle, the gentlemen glancing uneasily towards the distant horizon, suddenly feeling some great danger lurked thereupon. "The moon," whispered Ithril, "I believe its light might reveal us to unwitting eyes."

"That is a relief," said Kipril, urging his horse to a faster pace, racing the imminent moonrise, lest their secret be revealed to all and sundry, "I feared it was another creature of the Wood come to challenge us!"

"That is an enigma we must soon discover," agreed Ithril, "but for now let us just seek shelter and peace withindoors!" They were soon galloping like madmen through the empty streets, reaching the castle just as the gates were raised to allow the Captain and Bayard to enter.

Said Garren delightedly, "there you are, you rascals! What do you mean by tarrying elsewhither when there is a job of work to be done hereabouts?"

"The moon, sir," said Kipril with a brisk salute.

"Gracious!" said he, dashing into the shadows of the keep with the others, before its wan light could betray them. The horses were whisked off to the stables as all of them immediately got withindoors before giving an explanation to all and sundry, most particularly the hastily fetched King, who grinned in absolute wonder to see not only Bayard returned alive but the elves that had accompanied him.

"Come my friends," said the King joyously, "let us find somewhere comfortable where we may recount your adventures," he eyed the lady speculatively, adding, "that is if you do not wish to retire, milady?"

"Who can rest after such a night!" said she in delight.

"Excellent," said he, "we'll enjoy a late supper as we hear the tale in full." The others exchanged a smiling glance, rife with meaning, knowing the King would hear no such thing, but they made no other remark upon his sensible suggestion, but merely allowed the servants to usher them whither they would. So it was the tale was told, what they could tell of it at least in mixed company, but at last the King and the lady pled exhaustion and withdrew, leaving the others of a more uncanny nature to discuss matters further.

"We'd best assemble our full number," said the Captain, as his hand began to glow and Tobin materialized in their midst.

"Sir!" said the man uneasily, but with a smart salute, "I have dire news..."

"Creatures from the Wood are venturing forth?" asked Garren grimly.

"Quite," said Tobin, sinking into the nearest chair and smiling wryly, "it seems you are well aware of the situation."

Introductions quickly followed along with a recap of all the excitement of the day, had it only been a day?! Perhaps the longest day in history, mused Garren to himself. Said he aloud, "I suppose we had best get to the bottom of this, this Kingdom won't long survive with such things creeping out of the wood like cats out of a barn of an evening. Tobin, I believe this grim duty falls to you."

"Certainly, sir," grinned he, leaping to his feet, "the rest of you have had your adventure for the day, now it is my turn."

"Off with you lad!" said Garren, sending him away in a flash and then turning his glowing palm upwards and gazing thereat, said he with a strange smile, "It seems we are all growing quite accustomed to this, whatever it be!" He eyed the remainder of his command quizzically, "what of the rest of you? Is anyone like to be surprised that any of us yet draw breath, considering the excitement of the day?"

Kipril replied, "while I managed to thwart several lesser fiends before being overcome by some dark spell of the primary villain, I don't think anyone noticed anything, save that I was not at my assigned post during the majority of this rather anxious day."

"Your Captain will have to deal with that," mused Garren in feigned grimness, "and I doubt anyone was paying that much attention to our elvish friend when he likewise vanished, and if the question should arise, who is to say the spell didn't merely send him elsewhere instead of immolating him where he stood?" They exchanged thoughtful glances at this before the discussion turned to other matters.

Tobin found himself congealing out of the evening mist on the brink of that terrible Wood, far from the city and even the surrounding farms and villages, in what appeared to be a vast sheep meadow. The sound of whimpering sobs swiftly drew his attention, he ghosted towards the pathetic cry, wondering who it was in such wretched straits and what he could do to avail them, especially considering his present quest. With a shudder of anticipatory horror, he wrenched open the door of the crumbling sheep shed, determined to find out. There was nothing more terrifying than a sobbing shepherd boy within, his eyes full of fear at what might now be intruding itself upon him, but a curious frown furrowed his brow at the advent of a stranger therein.

"Who are you?" said the astonished boy, "You are not that fiendish man who promised to return this very night."

"No," said Tobin, unconsciously grasping his sword hilt though he had never carried such a weapon in his mortal days, "I've come to deal with the fellow once and for all. Do you know what he is up to?"

"He took all my father's sheep," quivered he, "and then promised to return for me."

"I wonder," mused Tobin to the air, "what could such a villain do with your poor sheep? It is said no creature may escape the Wood without the blood price being met, can such fiends be ransomed with the blood of animals? Perhaps the lesser villains can thus escape." He eyed the boy grimly, "but the greater terrors I would assume must be paroled with the blood of men. The fiends we have so far faced have been minor villains indeed, most mere beasts, though of an infernal sort." He eyed the boy in concern, his tone gentleness itself, "and what is to come of you, lad?"

"I know not sir," said the boy wretchedly, "my parents are both dead and those sheep were my only inheritance or future and now that horrid man has promised me a future most grim and short, what is there of hope in that?"

"Little enough," agreed Tobin, "unless you know the Source of all Hope."

"But I do sir," said the boy in growing excitement, "though I had never considered the matter from that point of view! Please, sir, what must I do?"

"Why don't you go talk to the Captain about that lad," smiled Tobin, raising a glowing hand, bright in the gloom of the shanty, "while I deal with your fiendish friend."

The boy's eyes were wide but he did not draw back in terror as that radiant hand touched his shoulder and he vanished therein. Tobin wasn't sure what he did, but suddenly his features shifted to those of the wretched shepherd, though he couldn't manufacture the tears and terror previously native to the pathetic mortal child, not that the fiend just then bursting through the dilapidated door cared anything for theatrics, focused as he was upon his moment of greatest triumph thus far. "Come boy, don't snivel," said he, all cold business, "I'm about to enact the boldest transaction of my life, though hopefully not the greatest thereof but only the beginning of such. Are you not curious about the historic part you are about to play therein?"

He took the boy cruelly by the shoulder and pushed him out of the shed, speaking as they walked, "I've become a broker as it were, for the inmates of the dreaded Wood. For the right remuneration, I'll see that the price of their release is paid and they'll compensate me for my trouble on their behalf. Quite a successful little venture, at least in theory, though I've yet to release any of the so-called greater fiends, I've merely sprung a few dark beasts and some minor wizards, but that will soon change."

"How are you to enjoy your hard won wealth when they destroy the very world you hoped to indulge yourself in?" said the boy, rather too cogently for a backwoods shepherd boy, but the villain was so caught up in his delusions of grandeur that he little noticed.

He scoffed, "they can have the rest of the world, you fool, while leaving me this ridiculous little realm as my own demesne to do with as I please."

Smiled the boy grimly, "but can you trust such a nefarious landlord?"

"Silence wretch!" snapped the man, "Or I'll make the condition permanent a little sooner than I had intended!" They walked on in silence for a long while, until they came to the furthest corner of the little realm, surrounded on three sides by those grim trees, an area no bigger than the sheep shed and filled with brambles, weedy trees, and several large stones. Said the knife-wielding entrepreneur, "now lay yourself down on that stone over there, no fuss or noise, and it will be the better for you."

Tobin complied, feeling as if the Wood actually leaned in to watch in greedy anticipation, the darkness beneath the trees seemed to deepen, even to take on corporeal form, and he did not think it was his imagination that saw red eyes gleaming wickedly in the gloom. "This will be a great day," hissed a fell voice out of the murk of the Wood, "a great day indeed and great shall your name be amongst us!"

"Yes, yes, yes!" triumphed the man as he raised the knife to seal the bargain with the boy's blood, but his sacrifice wasn't content to lounge upon that wretched stone and die like a mindless lamb.

Tobin unveiled his glowing form, the cool light of his being eliciting a horrible squawk of anguish from the ember-eyed fiend within the Wood and a wail of terror from the would-be killer looming over him. He raised a glowing hand and said like a judge passing down sentence, for verily he was, "for dabbling in things beyond mortal ken, for intentionally loosing undead horrors into the mortal world, so too shall be your fate. As all such horrors, consigned for all of time to this Haunted Wood, remember forgiveness and redemption are not beyond reach, but you must cry out to Him whom you have wronged."

The man was frozen like a bird before a snake as that radiant hand reached towards him, time seemed to pass in agonizing slowness, but the next moment it touched him and he screamed in despair, shrinking to a shadowy outline of a man with flaming eyes that slunk beneath the trees, hoping therein to hide its acute misery. Tobin slumped back for a moment, as if suddenly faint, draping himself in bland mortality as those dread eyes continued to watch, said the foiled fiend, "what is this? Some new treachery of His no doubt! But what is that to us? We have waited this long, what is a little longer? Tremble vermin in dread, for soon enough we shall be loosed upon you and the whole world besides!"

"Neither of us have any say in the matter," said Tobin quietly, as he felt the great shadow slink off into the depths of the Wood, "for my Master is Lord of all, including you, wretched rebel though you be!" He gazed into that stygian murk, but there was nothing to see, save a dull, dead blackness with no depth or detail, as if he stared at a black sheet of paper. He stepped boldly into the Wood, his first excursion into the Wood itself, though he had briefly haunted that old ruin said to lay at its heart.

He had expected the stems of ancient and evil trees, a brown fog creeping about his feet, malicious eyes sparkling in the boughs above, but there was nothing, absolutely Nothing within the confines of that Wood, as if the trees were a mere illusion visible from without but nonexistent within. There was only shadow and blackness all about him, there was some sort of ground upon which he might walk but otherwise all was utter, starless night and void about him. He had thought to find it teeming with evil things like fish swarming in the ocean's depths, but he walked alone, so utterly alone. He unveiled his radiance once more and by his own light, at last he could see something: the crumbling walls of an ancient castle. He smiled grimly to himself, knowing this to be the only Real Thing in all that vast and empty Wood, save the forlorn souls that flitted about in solitary misery until the End of Days, never encountering one another or anything else in all that endless void.

He entered the confines of that ancient ruin, inexorably drawn therein by a Power that throbbed with the same rhythm as the light that composed his very being, the same that had overwhelmed his weak heart upon his initiation into this eldritch order. He saw the cracked paving stones in the very center of the courtyard glowing with the same light and approached the radiance. As he stepped into its light, something like a minor earthquake shook the whole structure and it felt as if the very floor of the world had broken and he must fall forever through the crack. He smiled wryly at his fancy as his great fall ceased after a moment's descent, for he was still waist high with the floor of the ruin, but a flight of spiral stairs now wound down into the depths of the keep, the same light radiating up from the depths like sunlight from the surface of a pond. Gladly did he descend, to see what mystery lurked beneath that grim ruin.

"Welcome child," whistled a little magpie, perched upon one of the stones jutting from the roughly dressed wall, beside a radiant pool of infinite depth, glowing with a light of fathomless blue. "The Water of Life," replied the bird to the unspoken question, "the very reason men were banished from this place in the morning of the world. They had already helped themselves to the forbidden Pool of Knowledge, and in their ruined state, they would drink of this well too, dooming themselves to an eternity of such wretchedness. So for their own sake and that of all the world, I had to cast them out."

"No," said He to the boy's wondering thought, "they would not go quietly, indeed I came to them in mortal guise, I met them in their weakness, and I, the very Author of Life, was slain for their sake, and yours, but so too might all men find redemption thereby! In the very hour when evil felt itself ultimately triumphant, it was dealt its final defeat, though there would be many years of futile rebellion and guerilla warfare on the part of My defeated foe, who in his pride calls himself Lord of all these unsettled lands." Tobin had collapsed, weeping, beside the strange pool, suddenly feeling very wretched and dirty beside Him before whom none could stand.

"Be at peace child," said He gently, "have I not already paid the price for your treachery? Do you not live again, a new creation, all that was, forgot?"

"Yes, sir," quavered the boy, wanly, but no tears trailed down his cheek.

"None of that," laughed He, gentleness itself, "I send you forth boldly, for you go in My Name, against which none can stand. I have covered all your sins and forgotten them, as must you, be bold, for you are My beloved child, and a dark hour comes upon the world and many are those who desperately need Me, and you must bear the Light to them that they dwell no more in darkness. You are but the first of My Messengers, sent to spread My words to all peoples and nations and to keep those evils against which mortal men cannot stand from overrunning all creation."

The boy could not help it, he was on his feet and shouting joyously like a triumphant army at receiving such orders directly from the Master Himself. "Much better child," chirruped He, "now off with you and tell your Captain all that has come to pass!" The light intensified to such a brilliance that no living creature could bear it; Tobin evaporated like mist in the morning.

He appeared in a brilliant flash in the same little room wherein all his comrades still sat, perhaps the very moment he had vanished. When they could again see, he saluted smartly and gave his report to the Captain, all listening with vast interest to all that was imparted. Garren smiled brightly and said, "Messengers, eh? At least we now have a name for this merry circus and it seems we've at least temporarily ended the crisis emanating from the Wood. Now what of this staircase within the heart of that old ruin?"

"Perhaps it is to spare unwitting victims your uncouth recruiting methods?" grinned Tobin.

The Captain merely arched an eyebrow and said sternly, "nay sir, it was you that drew us into this first, even if it was afterwards to your own perception. I'm Captain and my viewpoint must obviously be the correct one."

"As ordered sir," said Tobin in properly feigned acceptance, "I can but hear and obey."

"As is only proper," laughed Garren in delight at this seeming automaton, "now what?"

"First we have a wedding to attend," said Ithril brightly, "then we have a world to defend!"

"Sire, you cannot be serious!" said one of the boy's father's greatest advisors, whose place had been assumed by the erstwhile Prince's dearest friend upon the former King's decease.

"I am quite serious Lord Urp," said the King brightly, for not even the complaints of a former Advisor, with a face like some fish that dwells in muddy creeks and stagnating rivers, could dim his joy this wondrous morning. Not only had the lady assented to take his hand in marriage, but the Captain of the Guard and Bayard both assured him that the shadowy monsters that had assaulted the realm but the day before had been dealt with and cast back whence they had come, at least for the foreseeable future.

"But Sire, it is one thing to marry a foreign lady, certainly a venial sin but easily forgivable when one considers your youthful enthusiasm, but this making of a Great Lord out of common men," retorted the other, "it is rather disturbing to those of us of noble blood."

The young King stared at him blankly, before stating the obvious, "and from whence did your noble ancestors arise, sir? What merit is there in being born a prince or a peasant? Has this man not shown himself to be faithful and brave beyond doubt? Have even you proven yourself thus? I will hear no more of this until you can bring some actual proof against this man." He skipped off, leaving the astonished lord sputtering over his reply, this would never do! He stalked off in the opposite direction, muttering grimly to himself.

"You cannot do this, Sire!" protested Garren at the King's adamant proposal that he be made a Lord of the Realm.

"But so have I promised!" said his Majesty in surprise.

"And so did I protest even at the mere prospect," smiled the Captain in vast amusement.

"What boon then would you have of me for such bravery and faithfulness?" said the miserable King, foiled in his attempted kindness and wishing such a man could truly join the ranks of the nobility that he might positively influence his peers thereby.

"I merely did my duty, Sire," said Garren solemnly, "but if you would grant me a favor, spare my Lieutenant's life for his seeming abandonment of his post yesterday."

The King's face grew stern, "a boon indeed, sir! The man is a coward and traitor and deserves his prescribed sentence. Will it not undermine morale and encourage others to likewise neglect their duties?"

"If such had been his actions, Sire," said Garren grimly, "I would carry out the sentence myself, but that is far from the case. He was faithful to his duty, if not the specific spot he was ordered to be during that particular emergency."

"What was he doing if he was not at his post?" asked the King gravely.

"He was off fighting those fell things that wished to fall upon you," said Garren boldly.

"Against direct orders," said the King with a shake of his head, "vigilantism is hardly to be encouraged, sir!"

"I know that Sire," said Garren quietly, "but it was his duty to do so, though it defied a lesser authority to act thusly."

"And whose authority is greater than mine that he would dare to risk my wrath?" said the King in rising ire.

"His," said Garren simply, the King unable to pretend he didn't hear the full emphasis placed on that particular pronoun.

"Well," said the King uneasily, "if that be the case, I will allow your request, if such can be done without completely undermining morale and order within your ranks?"

It was Garren's turn to be uneasy, for he knew precisely how important such a matter was in the eyes of the common soldiery and it wasn't as if he could give a full explanation as to the why of the matter to all and sundry, besides, it wasn't as if Kipril could be in the least inconvenienced by any sort of mortal justice. Said he after a long, grim pause, "you are quite correct Highness, you cannot spare him that fate without seriously imperiling the rest of the Guard, at least when it comes to their sense of justice, duty, and loyalty."

"But to so slay such a noble man!" protested the King, "Is there no satisfactory explanation we can give to the general public?"

Garren smiled sadly, "nay Sire, but be at peace, for it will not be you condemning an innocent man to death, rather he is far beyond such nuisances."

The King frowned, "how can you consider death a mere nuisance? And why argue against my edict in the first place if it is so?"

Garren grinned ruefully, "I did not wish his good name and example to die such a death, Sire, but it seems all such mortal concerns must be sacrificed upon the altar of our Master's will." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, "and I do believe Kipril may have his own part to play in solving another mystery before his ignomious mortal end."

The King frowned pensively in his own turn, "what do you mean?"

"Your father's untimely death, Sire," said Garren solemnly, "you have not been even a little suspicious as to the circumstances that brought it about?"

The King smiled grimly, "I had tried to dismiss such thoughts for the peace of my own mind and that of the realm, but if there are such poisonous vipers lurking about, ignoring them will do no one but themselves any good. Your Lieutenant is willing to die upon so noble a quest, despite what the world at large will think or know?"

"What is mortal glory to His?" asked Garren with a smile that made the King quite jealous, wishing he too could smile like that.

"What is to be done?" asked the King.

"Proceed with the inquiry and usual sentence," said Garren, "keep the Lieutenant imprisoned during the course of it, but accessible to anyone who might have an interest in consorting with such a man. He just might be desperate enough to do anything if it will spare his life."

The King's eyes narrowed, "how is it you have no fear for his life and say I should feel no guilt in this matter?"

Garren smiled enigmatically, "it will do him no permanent harm, Sire, for he has already been dealt that grim hand, something a man must only endure once."

The King's eyebrows rose in astonishment, "I wondered how he came to be on duty yesterday morning, sick as he had been for so many weeks prior." His brow furrowed thoughtfully, "and you say he went chasing after villains which a thousand arrows could in nowise harm? And what of your strange ability to counter such foes? And Bayard likewise?"

"You did send us into the Haunted Wood, Sire," said Garren with the ghost of a smile, "who is to say what comes of mortal men who stray therein or those who peek beyond the curtain of this mortal world?"

"I'll have your head right alongside his," said the King in feigned ire, "if you will not speak plainly, what has happened man?"

"Have him hanged, Sire," said Garren with a sudden thought, "it is a more fitting death for a traitor of his standing and none will notice the absence of blood in such a circumstance."

The King shook his head in exasperation, saying, "will you tell me nothing of this curious business?"

"Only as much as He allows, Sire," said Garren brightly.

"I must content myself then in that I am blessed to have such friends," said he in resignation, "confounding as they might be."

"How good of a friend can I be, Sire?" laughed Garren, "I came to beg for my Lieutenant's life but only managed to condemn him to a worse death instead!"

"Quite," smiled the King, contrary to all propriety pertaining to his station, but as Lord Urp had said, he was still a rather callow youth and the indiscretion must therefore be forgiven him, "but I will be having words with a certain dear friend and advisor upon this topic, even if you will not speak."

"To your tender mercies I leave him, Sire," grinned the Captain, bowing deeply and hastening off to arrest a certain traitorous lieutenant.

"So it has come to this," said Kipril, as Garren made a great show of placing him under arrest before half the Royal Guard.

"Dereliction of duty is a serious charge, sir," said the Captain gravely, both fighting fiercely against a great urge to laugh at the sheer ludicrousness of the situation but that would not be in keeping with the role each must play in things to come.

"I will bow to the King's justice," said Kipril grimly, adding almost defiantly, "if it can be considered such?"

"That is for the Inquiry to determine, now move," said the Captain, urging his Lieutenant towards the dungeons. It was quite a sight to the men watching, for they knew their Captain's devotion to his men, particularly the Lieutenant, whose sickbed he had warded nightly for what seemed weeks on end, now he was forced to arrest the very man upon whom he had lavished such care and concern; it was a tragedy indeed!

When they were free of prying ears and eyes, Garren could no longer contain his wry smile nor Kipril keep from asking after its meaning, replied the Captain jovially, "the King was ready to spare your life until we considered the matter from the perspective of the common soldier and decided your life must be forfeit to maintain order and morale as we couldn't give a proper explanation as to your activities. And as you are a traitor, we think you might have some company during your imprisonment looking to take advantage of that very trait. After you have flushed that particular partridge, then you will hang for your crimes though the King was content to merely have your head off, I convinced him otherwise."

"Some friend you are!" laughed Kipril in wonder, "You send me to a worse death than that usually dealt to such miscreants when I thought you were going to plead for my life."

"It's merely that this form of execution doesn't involve the gory details that a decapitation requires," said the Captain, studiously keeping a neutral expression on his face, apparently all business.

"As long as it is merely a professional matter," grinned Kipril, making no effort to hide his vast amusement, "then it is quite all right." He frowned slightly, "what of this little errand you've set me in the interim?"

"The former King was murdered," said Garren, "and being the discontent traitor that you are, likely to die such a death, it would be an opportune time for the schemers behind the plot to expose themselves."

"Anything to spare my life," nodded Kipril eagerly, "I hope the King is cherishing no thoughts of guilt or shame over this fiasco? For it is a noble quest he has set me, to say nothing of my curious nature!"

"Quite," agreed Garren, "we've discussed it as thoroughly as is allowed with a mortal man, but he is determined to interrogate Bayard even so."

"He might lose his head right alongside me!" said Kipril impishly.

"I'll get two pairs of boots for my trouble then," said Garren in feigned avariciousness.

"You're all heart sir," smiled the Lieutenant, as he was locked safely within his cell.

"What's he like, this master of yours?" asked the drabbest man ever born of Kipril's sometimes housekeeper.

"As good a man as ever there was," said she, "he paid me to come in thrice a week to attend to the domestic side of things, being a bachelor and a soldier besides. He always paid me on time, which must speak well of his character if anything does! I can't believe these charges against him. I'm sure he was framed..." She couldn't continue her vast conspiracy theory, for the man had nodded tersely and stalked off mid-statement. She flounced off in a huff to discuss it once more with the neighbor lady and her great aunt, at least they could condole with her, if the menfolk never could!

"Well?" came an equally drab voice from a shadowy alleyway as the first drab man walked by, "What have you discovered of this so-called traitor?"

The drab man shrugged, "he pays his housekeeper appropriately, that's all I could gather from idle gossip. He had little life or acquaintance outside the Guard."

"Go have a word with him," said the voice, "see if he's a man after our own heart and he's interested in not only sparing his life but in greater things." The drab man nodded once and hied himself off to the castle to do just that, eager as he was for such things himself.

Garren was sitting at his desk, filling out the numerous forms involved in an Inquiry, when that familiar radiance flashed and he found a rather astonished youth sitting in the chair across from him. He put aside his paperwork and smiled gently at the rather unsettled lad, asking quietly, "what can I do for you lad?"

"I'm out of danger?" asked the boy hopefully.

At the Captain's slight frown, the boy told his brief story and Garren nodded, saying brightly, "that you are, lad. Now what is to come of you? If you are interested in a career, I'm sure we can find you a place amongst the palace servants or the Royal Guard?"

"I don't know," said the boy thoughtfully, "after everything, I really can't see that warding a gate or mopping floors for the foreseeable future will be all that interesting."

"Perhaps there is another service then that might suit?" asked Garren in ill-suppressed anticipation, "If excitement and peculiarity are your cup of tea? But I must caution you, it will utterly consume your life, nay your very being!"

The boy snorted, "what is that to me? I have nothing, am nothing, and came very close to losing just that but a few moments prior. Astonish me, sir!"

And Garren did just that, standing suddenly and opening what should have been a little closet that stood off to one side of the room, but rather it opened upon an ancient ruin, surrounded by glowering trees, and suffused by a strange blue glow. The boy shuddered in dread and awe, but lost no time in rising to his feet and hastening through the door. Garren shut it momentarily, but there came an immediate knock and he opened it once more to gaze upon a radiantly smiling boy, but otherwise he seemed unchanged. "Well?" asked the Captain, shutting the door and seating himself once more.

"Reporting for duty, sir," said the boy with a proper salute.

"Yes," said Garren, "but are you a full Messenger or still a mortal man?"

"I'm not sure that I understand, sir," said the boy, Kyan by name.

The Captain again stood and unveiled his radiant, misty form, eliciting a little shudder of terror from the boy, but he stood stock still at attention, as befitted a junior officer awaiting his Captain's pleasure. Seeing no answers therein, the Captain asked, "what happened in that old ruin, lad?"

The boy shook his head, "I spoke with Him, sir, guised as a little bird! Then He bade me drink of this pool in the basement and now I'm back where I started."

"You'll have to forgive me," said the Captain, draping himself again in a mundane guise, "but I'm nearly as new to this as you. Previously, it was necessary for a man to die to enter this service, I was unsure if that was still the case."

"I believe you have the right of it, sir," said the boy brightly, adding with a laugh, "and who would think I would be impatient for the day of my own death?"

"It is a strange thought," mused the Captain, "at least by mortal reckoning. But as you are now in my service, whether you're a full-fledged Messenger or not, you can be my aide until that fateful day when you come fully into your own." The boy could do nothing but smile broadly and salute smartly in reply; he would do well indeed!

Kipril sat in his cell, rather impatient for some nefarious villain to sidle up to him with a traitorous offer that would spare his life and perhaps launch him upon a great and terrible career. He had stood at his post on many a longer and duller day during his brief career, but never had it bothered him like it did at that moment, as patient and steady as had been his character in mortal life, he was rather surprised to find himself so impatiently eager in the life to come, as if he was but a green soldier and this his first real assignment. He smiled ruefully, suddenly realizing that was indeed the case, but he schooled his mien to grim indifference as he heard what could only be someone opening the outer dungeon doors, intending to descend.

Lord Urp himself had come, grim and piscine as ever was his wont, said he in his gravelly voice, "what have you done soldier?"

"Nothing sir," said Kipril quite honestly.

"You mean nothing yet," persisted his Lordship, "you could go far lad, farther than ever you could serving such a master, particularly when he's determined to hang you like a common poacher."

"What would you have of me?" queried Kipril eagerly.

"Your life will be forfeit if you betray or disobey us," cautioned the overbold visitor.

Kipril laughed mirthlessly, "is it not already forfeit regardless? What would you have of me?"

"Drink this," said he, passing a small vial through the bars, "you will be thought dead, at least long enough for us to arrange matters pertaining to your freedom, after, you shall do as you are told without question or qualm."

"Very well," said Kipril grimly, "though I believe I escape death only to find myself a slave."

"One who might one day be a great and powerful man," assured the other.

"I suppose it must be better than the alternative," said Kipril with a grimace, swallowing the bitter drench, before choking on the stuff and lapsing into darkness. Lord Urp hollered loudly for the guards outside the upper door, proclaiming that the man had somehow poisoned himself. They looked grimly upon the motionless figure before one went dashing for the Captain while the other stood uneasy watch until their return.

Lord Urp growled in annoyance, "just like a traitor to deprive us of the spectacle of his demise, did you not search the man before you imprisoned him in that cell?" He stalked off angrily or so the guard supposed, but rather suppressing a vast and eager smile.

"What do you mean he's dead?" said the King upon speaking with the Captain about happenings in the dungeon, "I thought death was nothing to you people?" He smiled wryly, "even my best friend will say little more! It is a great conspiracy and I have no part in it."

"We are each of us called to different things, Sire," said Garren evenly, "you must rule this country and we will do what we must to protect it from things against which you would otherwise be helpless. As to the Lieutenant, I'm sure it is some theory of those wishing to recruit him, it happens often enough in the stories that it must have some basis in reality."

"Yes," sighed the King, "the stories! My realm is rife with them at the moment."

"Including your own fairytale nuptials, Highness," reminded Garren with a knowing smile.

"I suppose there is that," laughed the King ruefully, "it seems each has his own version of happily ever after as well as our own particular duties to be about. Very well, I'll ty not to envy you your story and enjoy my own."

"Wisdom indeed Sire," agreed Garren, "now what of our friend's remains?"

"Farm out his quiet burial to some nameless minions and I am sure whoever has a greater interest in the remains will make his move," said the King.

"Very good, Sire," said Garren, bowing himself out of the King's presence to make the proper arrangements, but when he returned to the dank little room wherein they had left the corpse, its fate pending the Captain's interview with the King, he found it empty. "What happened to the body?" asked he of the guard on duty without.

Replied the man in surprise, "did the King himself not order it quietly buried? The workmen have been gone this past hour at least!"

"Very well," said the Captain, trying not to smile in anticipation, for the game was afoot, "it seems matters precede me. Return to your more usual post and tell the balance of the Guard that the matter has been put firmly to rest."

The man saluted sharply and said, "as you wish, sir."

"Not as I wish but as it must be," said the Captain in quiet benediction.

Kipril awoke to find himself in some sort of swaying vehicle in quite a hurry to be elsewhither, utterly dark save for a little wan starlight creeping in around the shades covering the windows, but more than adequate for his strange eyes. He sat up and discovered he wasn't alone therein. "Excellent!" said Lord Urp, as his companion roused, "We have much to discuss and we might as well do it as we travel, for our master will expect a full report upon our arrival."

"Our master?" asked Kipril grimly.

"Wheels within wheels, my friend," assured the other, "there is a great ladder of evil and villainy ascending to an unfathomable peak, though you currently find yourself on the lowest rung, someday perhaps you might climb to heady heights indeed! No matter our rank to those in the outer world, soon you will learn that matters nothing in this new and terrible world you have entered."

Kipril could not help but shudder at so seemingly great and organized an evil conspiracy, but he knew no matter to what heights these villains thought they might mount, his Master was so far above their meager dreaming that all their aspirations would come to naught, this thought elicited an eager smile indeed, as he said, "it seems your little conspiracy is far more grand than I had ever dreamed. Now what must we discuss?"

They spent the next several hours discussing evil vagaries, most amounting to nothing specific or even useful, but it seemed to please the other villain, so Kipril let him indulge himself, answering vaguely or nodding at the appropriate places, his own thoughts busy elsewhere. At last they drew to a stop and the vehicle's door opened wide, Lord Urp exited the equipage but Kipril perched uneasily within the shadows of the carriage, wondering where the moon was and if it might not betray the seeming traitor to anyone who cared to look in his direction, but the impatient look of his companion forced him to risk it. But as in all else, it seemed provision was made, for as they ambled up to one of the many side doors the great house boasted, a great cloud momentarily obscured the aging moon. A silent servant stood ready and waiting, ushering them into the great house while the cloud lingered over the moon's wan face until Kipril was safely within.

They were settled in a little library and soon provided with tea and a light repast, which neither touched, either out of eagerness or a complete lack of necessity for any sort of refreshment or nutrition, save where desired or necessary to maintain appearances. After nearly an hour, their solitude was interrupted by what must be Lord Urp's vaunted master, an aging and slouching Lord in the outlands, who ambled imperiously into the little room, as if a general waiting for some uninteresting but necessary report from the least of his soldiers.

"This is the only reason you have dared bother me with your petty affairs?" scoffed the stranger in wonder at Lord Urp's revelations, "A mere myrmidon? He no longer even has a place in your pathetic little realm's infrastructure, you fool! What good is he to me?"

"My Lord?" said Urp in confusion.

"Do you not realize your wretched little Kingdom means nothing in the grand scheme of things?" snarled the greater lord, "While you've been playing your paltry little games of regicide, greater things are afoot in the wider world, far greater than you or I or this pathetic wretch! Who needs petty tyrants or the wars of men when the greater evils within the Wood will soon be loosed!" He studied his companions with growing interest, attention which neither found reassuring in the least, "perhaps there is a use for you after all! If I summon such an evil, certainly I shall have command of it and our fell master's most gracious thanks besides. I thank you indeed my Lord Urp for so thoughtfully calling upon me this night."

"No!" screamed Urp in horror, "You wouldn't, you can't!"

"Just watch, sir," scorned the other in malicious glee, "I'm about it this very hour!" He pulled a certain bell rope in a certain way and before Lord Urp had finished his pleading and whimpered excuses why such could not be happening, two great brawny brutes of men appeared to take matters quite literally into their own hands. "To the Wood," said his lordship in fiendish delight, "it wouldn't do to keep our guests waiting."

They were soon enough hustled outside and gathered upon the nearest verge of the Haunted Wood that pressed quite close to the great manor house that brooded in the near distance. Kipril was rather indifferent to all the rush and bustle and fuss of the preparations going on about him, rather he watched the sky, wondering which would happen first: the sun's rising or the dispersal of the thin veil of cloud now shrouding the moon. But as the greater lord finished sharpening his knife, the Lieutenant's attention was drawn inexorably to the edge of the Wood, where he could feel something dreadful eager to be unleashed from its long interment therein.

"What?!" squawked the head fiend, as he looked upon his victims and dropped his knife in surprise.

Kipril grinned wryly, for it seemed the moon had won out at last, for his misty, glowing form was quite obviously visible to each and every one there present, said he quietly, "I wouldn't do this, were I you. How do you think such a fiend would treat you, were it loosed again upon the earth? Do you think such things have any sense of gratitude or graciousness towards anyone? You are a mere tool, to be used and discarded, not a leader to be obeyed or even a slave to be ordered about."

"What's wrong with you?!" stuttered Lord Urp, his first sensible words since leaving the house, all else had been blubbers and wordless whimpers.

Kipril grinned widely, "I am quite myself, it is all of you that are quite in danger of forever ruing this night!"

"Silence, ghost!" sneered the owner of the distant house, "Do not interfere and you may go about your business in peace."

"Do you not understand?" asked Kipril plaintively, "Your ghastly business is my own! Will you cease or shall I use force to prevent your aspirations. Those creatures have been cast into the Wood and there they will remain, if you dare despise that stricture, a law nearly as old as the earth itself, you do so to your peril!"

"Make me stop!" dared that intrepid knife wielder, lunging at the whimpering minor lord, whom Kipril easily sent elsewhither in a bright flash even as the maniac's knife scored across his misty arm, resulting in nothing more sinister than a brilliant flash of light, which sent the murderous fiend backwards in a flurry of disgust and horrid language.

"Now," said Kipril warningly, "will you heed the warning that has been given or will you vanish yourself into this accursed Wood?"

"No!" snarled the villain, raising his knife and lunging towards the obstreperous boy once more, this time intent on his victim.

Kipril merely stepped aside and touched the man's back in passing, reducing him to little more than a muttering shadow that vanished into the murk of the Wood to plot its revenge. He eyed the remaining servants, villains, and flunkies, saying quietly, "will you recant your evil service or follow your master into utter night?"

Shivered one of the great, bullish men that had manhandled the Messenger and his lordly companion, "please sir, have mercy! Tell us how we might escape this nightmare?"

As the sun peeked over a distant ridge and the boy's mortal guise resumed its usual place, smiled he in vast delight, "that I will, my friend, this then is all the tale..."

Bayard stood in the mist shrouded garden, the weird light of the moon casting the twining tendrils of mist into patchy splotches of eerie brightness or deepest shadow where some tree or wall or bit of statuary blocked its wan light. His own person was no less strange in that eldritch light, bright and misty in the moonlight, a dusky boy in the shadows. He thought himself alone at that late hour, pacing the gardens as he would, lost in thought, unafraid to finally be himself, whatever that meant now, after everything had changed so utterly.

The King's persistent questioning, to which he could give but little answer, had troubled him sorely, for once they had been the greatest of confidants, but now they belonged wholly to two very different worlds. The worries and concerns of one minor Kingdom of men no longer filled all his waking hours or haunted his deepest dreams; there was so much he did not yet know, and if he did, he could no longer broach it with his dearest friend. How much longer would he lurk within the confines of his old life as if nothing had changed when everything had? Kipril had this day been officially sundered from his former life, and something told him each of them must soon follow suit or flee forever beyond the confines of the mortal world.

His contemplations were cut short by a startled gasp and he turned to look to the source of the surprise, to find none other than the King himself, "Bayard," said he, unable to say more.

The boy studied his mottled appearance as he stood in the shade of a naked tree, here light and there shadow, he raised his misty gaze to that of the astonished King, saying quietly, "you can't believe it, even seeing it for yourself, my friend." He smiled wryly and added, "I hardly believe it myself!"

"Things can never be as they were," sighed the disappointed monarch.

"Not while this world lasts, no," said Bayard, falling into step beside the King, as if nothing at all had changed as they paced those familiar paths as they had often done in former days, "but they will be better than they have ever been in that which is to come."

"I had not thought of that," said the King wistfully, "but how long that seems to my merely mortal sensibilities!"

"Yet it is nothing in the eyes of eternity," mused Bayard, a faraway look in his eyes, as if he could almost glimpse that far and wondrous shore. Facing his friend, he asked quietly, "have you need of me, Sire?"

"Lord Urp has just appeared in the cell vacated by a certain traitorous comrade of yours," said the King dryly, "he has the most fantastic story to tell, admitting fully to cooperating in my father's murder and willing to give up all his allies and cronies in the matter, if I will spare his life."

"Yet his life is worth nothing if said allies get word of it," said Bayard grimly, "and what are we to do with him, unrepentant murderer and traitor that he is? You cannot mean simply to set him free?"

"That is why I came to you," said the troubled King hopefully, "perhaps you can divine a solution that will grant justice to everyone involved?"

"We'd best have a word with the Captain as well," said Bayard thoughtfully.

"I'm sure he will have some insight to give, but I thought first we should confer, as was ever our wont in former days," began the King.

"He's not just the Captain of your Guard, Sire," said Bayard, "he's the very Captain of the Messengers and his wisdom in this matter would be invaluable."

"A formidable man indeed!" said the King in surprise, adding with a droll smile, "Though I believe almost as clueless as yourself in such matters."

"Yes," grinned his friend, "but we tend to know things when we must, especially the Captain, besides, you would be appalled were I no respecter of rank."

"And here I thought to promote him to the rank of Great Lord," chuckled the King, "no wonder he looked at me askance."

"Mortal rank and title mean nothing to us, Sire," said Bayard quietly, "all that is behind us."

"What of your old friends and companions and home?" asked the King sadly.

Bayard turned to face his friend and said gravely, "Sire, you will always be my dearest and best friend, but Death has laid its heavy hand upon me and I must go the way of all flesh, though for a little while you have retained my company, but soon we must part as surely as if I had stayed quietly in my grave. Perhaps we shall meet again from time to time, but this world is no longer my home, and my Master's will my only duty and joy. We shall meet again on that morning ever bright with true Joy, after all is told and done, but until that glorious day, old friends might perhaps be long and often apart."

The King sniffed slightly, trying his best to maintain his royal composure, and said with a trembling voice, heavy with emotion, "I had not thought of it that way, but you are quite correct and I cannot be selfish and demand all your attention when all the world is in need of it. You will come to the wedding before your imminent departure?"

"I must," smiled Bayard, standing in the shadow of a great pine and looking once more as the King had ever known him, "I'm the best man! You might as well have a wedding without the groom."

"I think only the bride really matters," smiled the King through his tears, "the rest of us are quite expendable."

"Quite," said Bayard, before the conversation dissolved into a very unregal fit of laughter, but happily the daffodils would not carry tales to anyone within the palace that might be offended thereby.

The Captain was soon fetched and consulted upon the matter. He insisted on interviewing the man himself, and alone, and afterwards, he returned immediately to the impatiently waiting King, shaking his head grimly, said he, "he demands a full pardon for his information and that we release him into the wide world with resources enough to settle in comfort for the rest of his days."

"He does understand that his former allies will hunt him down and destroy him if he betrays them, or perhaps simply for being caught?" said Bayard in dismay.

"He laughed at me when I tried to broach that topic," said the Captain with a grim shake of his head, "insisting that his information would buy his life from any of his past sins and that his cunning would hide him from his former allies, should any escape our nets."

"Send him to the gallows," said the King angrily, "he's a dead man anyway, and if he won't talk willingly, I won't buy his information with injustice for my murdered father."

The Captain said quietly, "perhaps the Well is a better destination?" At the King's confused look, he amended, "there is an ancient ruin at the heart of the Wood, and therein lies a radiant pool, the very Water of Life. In that place there can be no deceit or injustice, rather he must face the consequences of his actions if he will not seek redemption therefrom."

The King actually shuddered, "a grim or glorious fate indeed, but then the fate reserved for each of us one day. It is well spoken, but I believe we should give him one last chance to satisfy us before banishing him thus." The Captain bowed his head and made to return to the dungeons to do just that, when an eerie wail met their ears. The Messengers shared a distraught look before vanishing utterly.

Bayard returned a moment later, saying grimly, "it does not matter now, Sire, some fiend or other has found its way into the very dungeons, somehow bypassing the guard on duty outside the door and murdering the man in his cell. It left a note saying the man was the property of 'His Grim Majesty' and we could not spare him that fate."

"I can see how the Fiend might become possessive of such a soul," mused the King, "but is it because he was a very servant of evil or because someone had tried to use his blood to pay the blood price to free some fell thing from the Wood?"

"I believe both or either would suffice," shivered Bayard, "or even no reason at all, for what can the King of Lies care for the truth of the matter?"

"Then what of that shepherd boy the Captain now has running about as his Aide?" said the King gravely, "Wasn't he spared a like fate?"

"He was indeed," said Bayard in quiet dread, "perhaps we shall very soon see just what it is the Dark One sees as just cause to claim a mortal soul as his own."

"You think I care anything for that little pipsqueak when I am about to lay claim to this entire pitiful Kingdom?" spat a hideous raven perched upon the windowsill, but this was no common bird of mortal kind, for it was the Fiend himself in avian guise. "Come tomorrow night," hissed the terrible fowl, "this whole pathetic realm will be absorbed into the Wood and all the souls herein utterly lost! Despair, my wretches, for it is all that is left to you!" As the creature flapped off with a raucous cry of triumph, it seemed that only then could the candles shine brightly in their sconces and their trembling limbs bear the burden of their weight.

"No!" said the King in horror, "He cannot be in earnest?"

"I fear in this case, no lie could please him more than the very truth," said Bayard heavily, "but he is not unopposed, for our Master is his Maker as well as ours, he is but a created being who claims a crown not rightfully his own. We do not stand helpless before such a foe!"

"No," said another avian thing, this a little magpie perched in the same place just vacated by that dreadful fowl, as both boys went to their knees in wonder and pure joy, knowing that rescue had come in very truth, "but a difficult decision lies before you and all the folk of this Kingdom. Long have I succored and protected it from the dreadful Wood all about it, but the time has come for it to become but memory. Your folk must flee into the wide world and take their place among the rest of mankind else they must venture into the heart of the Wood and discover the adventure I shall set them or fall to the schemes of the Fiend if they will not choose one doom or the other."

"How long do we have?" queried the King, "The Fiend said tomorrow night would be the end of all we once knew."

"The Path will remain open for the balance of the day," said the magpie quietly, "at sunset it shall vanish and the Wood will close in upon all this once bright and merry land."

"Then we had best get busy," sighed the King heavily, but there was no one there to hear him, save the sun peeking over the far hills, its last rise over that little land.

Bayard nodded grimly, summoning each of his comrades with a glowing hand that they might be apprised of the situation and do what they could to inform and encourage the scattered citizens in making the difficult decision placed so suddenly before them. Sighed the King to the gathered Messengers, "perhaps we should summon everyone that they all might hear it at once?"

Garren shook his head, "there might be a mass panic and certainly much confusion and debate, rather let each of us carry the message to each and every person in the realm. In the blink of an eye the whole Kingdom can be thus warned and we can help each and every person on their way."

"That sounds like an excellent idea," agreed the King, eyeing the elf keenly he said, "I suppose this means the wedding is off?"

Ithril nodded sadly, "at least until you have settled matters for your folk and yourself."

The King smiled grimly, "if I flee with the refugees, I'm like to be naught but a common man myself, eking out a living as best I can, so mean an existence is not something an elven Princess could aspire to nor your father approve."

"If you flee?" asked Kipril curiously, but the King only smiled at him as enigmatically as these strange men ever did at him.

"If you would fetch your lady sister," said the King to Ithril, "I shall break the news to her myself and then she may return home."

But the lady was rather reluctant to go home as the King seemed to insist, said she boldly, "each of you may choose your doom in this matter and I am not content to ride home as if this little adventure had never been! I will stay and see what awaits in that strange ruin, along with the boldest of your knights and warriors, Sire."

The King grinned in spite of himself, "you mean the least of my shepherds and drudges, milady. For I believe many of my greatest lords and warriors wish no part in such things, much preferring the fell mercies of outlandish strangers to our Master's boundless grace."

"Then happy shall I be to stand amongst such bold folk," said she brightly, "now have we not a busy day before us?" With that, the Messengers vanished about their business, eliciting a little gasp of surprise from the Princess, especially her brother's antics, leaving only the King, the Princess, and the Captain's Aide in the little room.

Said the King to the boy, "we had best inform the occupants of the castle, though in a more traditional fashion. Off with you lad, I believe you'll know just what to do and say."

"Yes sir," said the boy anxiously, but the King had indeed spoken truly and he soon lost all fear as he went about his pressing duties. The King exchanged a wistful smile with the lady as he offered her his arm, she took it with a sad but glorious smile as they exited the room to do their own part.

Many were the great lords and rich men who protested that the King was mad or grasping for ultimate power, but while they stood about complaining and railing bitterly to one another, the rest of the Kingdom was astir as decisions were made, bags were packed, and a mass exodus was organized. Said Kipril brightly to Tobin, though the former wore an unfamiliar guise that he not be recognized, dead man that he was, as a crowd quickly gathered upon the verge of the Path, "I shall lead the way if you bring up the rear. I know of a great estate that now lies empty and untenanted of late and I believe will just suit as a starting point for our refugees as they begin their adventures in the broader lands of Men." Tobin nodded and dashed to the back of the company, telling all he passed of what was to come. While there was much fear, there was also a sense of eagerness and relief to know they were not utterly alone or unorganized.

As the sun began to sink low over the western hills, Kipril knew the time had come and that they could wait no longer. He ordered the company forward and they followed eagerly behind him. As they stepped upon the Path, it suddenly widened to allow a dozen men abreast to tread comfortably upon it, if that was their wish, but as Tobin lagged behind the stragglers, he gasped to see that dread Wood closing in behind them, as if the Path was the wake of a boat and those grim trees some terrible sea swallowing it as if it had never been. Those that had previously tarried to see what would come of it all suddenly squawked in alarm and hastened their steps, that they likewise not be swallowed up. Tobin smiled grimly and trailed after the quickly moving company of refugees.

While most of the populace had fled, some were determined to remain behind and seize what power or advantage they could or to see what the King was really up to, while a significant number also chose to accept the Master's challenge, curious to see what quest He might set them, but not knowing how to find the appointed trysting place. The balance of the Messengers, the King, the elfin Lady, and the Captain's Aide all chose to stay with the latter group while the former stalked about, arguing with one another or watching all and sundry suspiciously.

Said the Captain quietly to the loitering lords and laggards, "I will give each and every one of you this last chance to flee ere the fall of utter night. To remain is Death!"

"Then why is the King staying?" spat one minor lord.

"I'm curious to see what lurks beyond this fickle sphere we call life, Lord Dock," said the King quietly, "do you wish to join me? Are you ready to face eternity in the next few minutes?"

"You're up to something boy," sneered the contemptuous lord, "and I'm not going to let you get away with it, whatever it be." Many of his companions vociferously agreed while no one deigned to take Garren up on his offer.

As the night gathered about them, the distant trees seemed to grow ever closer, as if they were an army on the march, intent on taking the city. The darkness continued to deepen, no stars shone above and an eerie wind moaned in the crevices of the keep, while disquiet murmurs ran through the gathered folk in the castle's courtyard, for now even the naysayers were beginning to show signs of unease and wished nothing more than the company of their fellow men. "Will any of you now choose to flee?" asked Garren again, "For in a moment it will be too late." He raised a glowing hand, eliciting several grimaces of horror and much surprised murmuring amongst those about him, but still no one would listen.

The ground began to quake and it seemed those awful trees stood all about the very walls of the castle, ready to break through and claim the wretched mortals huddled therein for their very own. As stone after stone began to fall from the walls, a strange glow akin to that suffusing the Captain's hand shone brightly in the middle of the courtyard, making the folk gathered therein squawk in terror and flee to the side that it not consume them utterly. The ground continued to shake and a hole opened in the very center of the radiant stone, all gasped in wonder to see a set of spiral stairs now leading down to a luminous pool in the very depths of the keep.

"Now," said Garren, "if you have tarried to meet the Master Himself, descend the stairs and see what adventure awaits below. Those of you who have lingered long for any other reason, still I offer you a way out else your doom shall soon be upon you." He could no longer hide his radiant form, as the trees pushed through the walls and continued their incessant advance; the other Messengers were likewise alight, the only light save that of the subterranean pool, in all that whelming dark, but still no one would come.

The King and those like him, wishing to fulfill the Master's peculiar challenge, had swiftly vanished below as the darkness closed in above them. Only Kyan, the Messengers, and the trembling scoffers now remained above, those grim trees herding them ever closer together, though the latter wanted to be nowhere near that terrible light, the surrounding darkness seemed desirable by comparison, and one by one, they vanished therein. Before he vanished, Garren gave the trembling Kyan a wide smile and said, "easy lad, you're about to come into your own!" Each of the Messengers vanished in a bright flash as the roof of cavern collapsed in on itself, draping everything in fathomless night. Kyan now felt the darkness all about him, real and thick and palpable as a heavy blanket, and as it touched him, his mortal flesh was suddenly unmade and he too vanished with a brilliant flash of that wondrous light, leaving only utter night in its wake ever after.

They reappeared upon the verge of that horrid Wood, stepping out of the mist as if they had merely strayed for a few moments therein. Garren smiled broadly to see so many now numbered amongst the Messengers, the King, the elfin princess, and Kyan among them. Of one accord, little knowing what they did, all draped themselves again in mortal guise, their attention turned instinctively to the Captain, who told them what little he knew of their new occupation and what the immediate future might hold and their duties therein. Most vanished about some needful task or other, leaving the former King, Kyan, and the original complement of the Messengers loitering about in the darkened meadow alongside that wretched Wood. They shared a bright smile, and as one, set off towards the great house they could see hulking in the distance.

Kipril's weary company soon stumbled up the lane leading to the great house, most of the refugees so exhausted and relieved they just sat beside the road the moment they stopped. The Messengers fell upon them like a sudden summer storm, urging them onward, just a little further where beds and a light supper were waiting. Invigorated by this slight gleam of hope, even if it be a dream, they forced themselves to their feet and made the last effort, but it was not a dream. Soon enough, they had washed the dust from their faces and hands, shared a simple meal, and settled down in beds, upon sofas, even in the barn loft or upon the thick carpets lining the corridors, sleeping as untroubled children, thinking it had all been a strange but terrible dream and all would be better than well upon waking.

"Our homeland is gone?" said one ancient farmer to the King as they sat over breakfast, late the next morning.

"Utterly," said the boy, "we must begin anew in the outlands, though this is a pleasant enough and mostly empty land in which to start over."

"Mostly empty?" asked the old farmer skeptically.

"The man who ruled over this province was a harsh master and a tyrant, to say nothing of the Wood lurking upon his very doorstep, most of his folk fled elsewhere, leaving only a handful of servants and tenant farmers to tend all his vast holdings, but with his final plunge into evil, even those few tenacious holdouts are now fled. I cannot say if any will return with the sudden change in circumstances or what outlaws or pioneers or gypsies may also occupy these wide lands, but it is a good place to begin at least, though not stay for countless generations."

At the man's quizzical look, the young Messenger amended, "the Wood devoured our own land, my friend, it will not be satisfied until the whole world is thus consumed. It will gradually expand its borders, eventually covering the entire world in its insatiable tide."

"But who can survive that?!" said the farmer in distress, "Have we escaped out of the pot only to fall into the fire?"

"It will be many long years before you need worry about that," said the erstwhile King, "and I do not think the Master will leave the world alone to such a fate, even as He rescued us from our own imminent doom. In your lifetime, perhaps the trees will progress a few feet but not noticeably impinge upon yourself and in your grandchildren's lifetime, I do not doubt this house will soon vanish therein and in their grandchildren's lifetime this whole Province may disappear, but the progress will be so slow and gradual, that those affected will have ample time to act or retreat as they must."

"Will you still be our King?" protested the old man.

The boy shook his head sadly and smiled wistfully, "nay sir, there is already a King who claims sovereignty over this land, though a distant and half-wild province it is. We must send an envoy to him as soon as may be and tell all that has happened and gain his approval of what we intend. I am just another man set adrift in the wide world and must discover what it now holds for me, just like everyone else." But there was no hiding the eager light in his eyes as he said it, as if he was possessed of a hope or secret he could not yet divulge to the rest of them, but it put such heart into the old man that soon enough he was chivying all and sundry to start over and anew that very moment, so much so that when lots were cast to determine who should rule over them, he found himself the new governor of that distant province, for the King had quite vanished in all the hustle and bustle and confusion and excitement of starting over.

As the former King left his brief conference with the venerable old farmer, he found the Captain, Kipril, and Bayard waiting for him. He grinned ruefully to so keep the Captain waiting, but the man smiled amusedly at him, knowing he was still King, at least in the minds of his subjects. Said Garren without further ado, "the elves have gone back to speak with their own folk about these things. We should send an envoy to the King of this far flung province and apprise him of what has happened here. The rest of us will patrol the forest borders and see that no fell thing falls upon the refugees or any other unwitting folk."

"And the others?" asked Bayard quizzically, "Our newest recruits?"

Garren smiled widely, "they've dispersed throughout the world to do whatever task they've been set. We are but the first, my friends, for the darkness will not rest or forget, nay, it will only grow more determined to wash over the world in an unholy flood and remake it in its own image ever after. We too shall disperse about our own business once things are settled here."

"I believe I shall miss the intimacy and security of our little realm," said the former King wistfully, "this wide, broad world quite intimidates me!"

"What can be more secure than our Master's keeping?" quipped Kipril, "And Who could know us more intimately? And have you not joined a company dearer to one another than close brothers?"

"Indeed," grinned the boy brightly, "I had quite forgot. Well met my friends, well met indeed!" They shared a glorious laugh of pure joy before each parted about their own peculiar duties, whatever they be at that particular moment.

Back for Dinner

"Have a good time darling," said the Queen brightly to her youngest son, "but try and be back in time for dinner."

"I'll try mother," said he, "but you know how adventures go, there's no telling when or if I might ever come home, let alone in time for a particular meal!"

"As long as you do your best, dear," said she, holding up another scarf in the mirror to see if it was a better match for her ensemble and complexion, "have fun!" He kissed her on the cheek and waved excitedly as he hastened from the room, hardly believing she had agreed to it. But as the door closed behind him, she snorted to herself and laughed like a fairy child, "the Road! I thought he had quite outgrown those old tales, but whatever makes him happy and keeps him out of mischief, he can use any excuse he likes to gad about the countryside with his friends." Stifling her amusement, she returned to the very vital task of finalizing what she was to wear to breakfast, motioning to her maid to rejoin her forthwith.

"She actually said yes?!" said Bayard, standing in the courtyard with their saddled horses, awaiting just such an eventuality but hardly believing it to be real.

"I'm sure she thinks it all a great joke," sighed the Prince, gaining his saddle, "for she insisted I be back for dinner! I said we would try."

"Try indeed," smiled Bayard in grim eagerness, "let's survive the adventure first before we worry about our schedule!" He glanced uneasily at his friend, "you are sure about this?"

"We have been through this a hundred times before," laughed the Prince lightly, "I'm certain this is what I want and that I have nothing to fear upon this journey."

"Let's be off then," said Bayard quietly, all his former eagerness having melted away like frost in the dawning, but the Prince was too excited and jubilant to notice.

The first few days upon that oddest of all paths were bliss indeed: bright sunshine, fluffy clouds, perfect temperatures, abundant water and wild produce, the company of dear friends, only the slightest breath of wind, and picturesque scenery around every turn. "What was all that about death and doom and testing?" asked the Prince of his companion on the fourth morning of their journey, "This whole adventure has been a picnic!"

"It is probably part of the testing," said Bayard uneasily, "to make you relax your guard or make the sorrow or want or danger all the worse when it finally comes."

The Prince snorted derisively, "come my friend, do not cast such a pall over so glorious a day!"

"I will try not to Sire," sighed the boy heavily, "but this is not what the stories tell, not in the least!"

"Then it is a very good thing I am less learned in such lore," laughed the Prince, hopping astride his horse and trotting off, his friend close behind. At length he said, "what we need is a little excitement! Even a stag to chase would liven things up, too much longer of this idyllic peace and I may fall asleep in my saddle!"

"This is the last place I would make such a wish," said Bayard with a shudder, but his friend did not hear him, rather he had drawn to the side of the little road and was talking with an aging, though once beautiful, woman that Bayard took for some sort of peddler or seller of trinkets.

"This is perfect, Bayard!" rejoiced the Prince, "This estimable lady has offered us just the thing to add a little zest to this otherwise dull adventure."

"We must stay true to the Road," cautioned Bayard, "straying from the path will only end in disaster!"

"Come sir!" protested that dulcet voice, "You need not even leave the Road to see what I have to offer."

"Very well," said Bayard, dismounting under protest but refusing to abandon his friend, "let us see this thing, the sooner that we might be on our way."

"You are sure about this, Sir?" asked the lady eagerly, "You wish to see the startling spectacle that awaits?"

"Certainly!" said the Prince, sharing a giddy grin with Bayard, as if they were two boys at a gypsy fair, eager to see someone swallow a sword or breathe fire. She drew a knife and the Prince thought she was about to amaze them with some sort of throwing trick, but rather she drove it deep into Bayard's ribs while muttering under her breath in an arcane language. Bayard screamed and fell, clutching at his wounded flank, but Ithril hardly noticed, for his entire body felt as if it were aflame or about to burst, he collapsed into darkness, writhing in agony, the sorceress' vile laughter the last thing he heard.

He awoke in the twilight, groggy and disoriented, he scrambled to his feet and bellowed his misery. He frowned, that was certainly an odd reaction. He shook his great, shaggy head and grunted in dismay, stamping a foot in growing frustration. What was wrong with him? At last he actually looked at himself and groaned in utter wretchedness. With a heavy snort, he lay down again in despair.

"What's the matter, beastie?" taunted the witch's voice outside the enclosure, "I thought all you young lordlings loved nothing more than the thrill of the chase? And that's exactly what you'll get, as soon as someone comes along willing to pay me for the pleasure, until then, sit tight!" She walked away, her mocking laughter lingering long on the dilatory breeze that played fitfully through his shaggy white hair. He bellowed in despair before tucking his silver tined head into his flank, wishing he could weep in this accursed form.

The man drew rein, dismounted, and hastened to the unmoving form alongside the Road. "I'm afraid he's dead," said the horse with a snort of disgust.

"What is that to us?" smiled Garren eagerly, fumbling with his water flask, uncharacteristically clumsy in his excitement.

"You can't be serious!?" said the horse in astonishment, "He hasn't finished the Road!"

"No," grinned his rider, "the Road finished him. Now hush, before you reveal something he need not yet know." The horse flicked his tail in amusement but said nothing more, watching the operation with keen interest. Garren poured a little of the liquid into the mouth of the corpse and quickly stepped back, a moment later, the boy had rolled to his side, coughing and spluttering as if half drowned, but very much alive.

He gazed questioningly up at the shadowy figure in the wan moonlight, wondering what had happened and where he was. "Come lad, on your feet," said Garren brightly, "you've had quite the day, but it is not yet beyond redemption."

"The Prince?!" gasped he, jumping to his feet and glancing about in a near panic, as if he thought to find his errant friend or their horses still loitering upon that grim road after so many hours.

Garren shook his head, "you'll have to go after him, if you want to save your friend."

"But the Road," said the boy wretchedly, "is it not forbidden to leave it thus?"

"In general, yes," said Garren, violently suppressing his rising mirth and trying desperately to maintain a neutral mien, "but this is a peculiar case and you are thus allowed to leave it upon this very particular errand, after, you may resume your journey, or not, as your friend decides."

"Why?" frowned the boy pensively.

"Neither of you left it of your own volition," said Garren, "the hag responsible for this debacle plied her tricksome trade upon the Road itself, which is forbidden, for such practitioners must draw their victims away from the Path before enacting their foul bargains, thus are you free to retrieve your friend and likewise free her other hostages and then return to your original journey, if that be your wish or to go home in peace."

"Very good," said Bayard brightly, but his face fell, "how am I to counter so fell a sorceress?"

"Simply tell her the truth, lad," said Garren grimly, "either she must release her hostages and cease her depredations upon the Road itself, or she shall cease to trouble the Road at all, if not the world too."

"Very well," said the boy with a shiver of dread, "how shall I find her?" Garren pointed towards a little trail that wound back into the Woods. The boy smiled nervously, nodded in farewell, and set forth upon this eldritch adventure, forgetting to ask how it was he was even capable of such, for had he not been grievously wounded just that morning? But all his attention was upon the adventure set before him, and that was puzzle enough to occupy his thoughts, at least for the time being.

"Now what?" asked the horse, once the boy was out of earshot. The man only smiled, like a cat might, and the horse knew he would never extract the secret, but catching his mood, he donned a similar expression of eager expectation and greatest joy.

The track seemed to wend aimlessly through the spindly little wood, but at last it brought him out into a broad clearing, containing a ramshackle cottage and several large cages containing creatures out of myth and legend. Bayard felt as if he had strayed out of a dream into a fairy tale for there was a griffin, a unicorn, a milk white stag, and even a rather pitiful little dragon! Into the grey light of predawn ambled the proprietress herself, ready to make a deal with the intruder who no doubt came to experience one of her fantastical hunts, but the ragged boy afoot did not look like a promising client, not in the least.

"Be gone beggar," snapped she, "before it goes the worse for you!"

"I am no beggar," said the boy bluntly, at the familiar voice, the despondent stag raised his head and stared at the figment in wonder, the wan light and mist giving an eerie appearance to everything in that glade, but hope stirred in his benighted heart as he watched the interaction, even if it was a dream.

"What do you want?" snarled she.

"You must cease your depredations upon the Road itself," said he, "and release all your current hostages."

"Who is going to make me?" hissed she, but there was a tinge of fear in her voice.

"I do not know who will enforce it," said the boy, "I am merely the messenger, but you must cooperate or cease your striving altogether."

She shuddered, "very well, it will be as it must, but I will not quit recruiting from that fell path!"

Bayard shook his head, "that is your right, certainly, but you cannot carry out your vile trade thereupon."

"Agreed," snapped she, as she, the hut and the cages vanished, leaving the inmates free, but still in their enchanted forms.

Bayard called aloud to the vacant air, "release your hostages witch, not just from physical captivity but restore them to their proper forms!" An evil cackle echoed on the air but the mythical creatures were suddenly human again, so joyous in their release, that they ran to one another, strangers though they be, and delightedly exchanged hugs and eager greetings with one another and Bayard.

"Now what?" asked the girl who had been the wretched unicorn.

Bayard shrugged, "I was told you might return to the Road, if that is your desire, or go home in peace."

The former dragon shook his head in disgust and hastened out of the story as quickly as he could hie himself. The late griffin shrugged and wandered off in another direction, as if lost in thought. The girl watched her companions vanish from the glade and then pierced the malingerers with her bright gaze, "and what of you?"

Bayard eyed the Prince curiously, but Ithril would not meet his gaze, rather he intently studied his boot tips, idly kicking at the dirt beneath his toes. "Come Sire?" said Bayard, "Would you be home in time for dinner, as your mother has asked, or will you continue upon the adventure we began?"

"What are you going to do?" asked the Prince anxiously of his friend.

Bayard smiled easily, "follow you, Sire, as is ever my wont."

"You ridiculous, faithful idiot!" sighed Ithril in wonder, flinging his arms around the astonishing young man, "After I led you into disaster you would still follow me, faithful as ever?"

"Certainly," grinned Bayard like the nascent morning around them, "that's my particular adventure, at least while this life lasts, but you must choose yours."

"I really don't want to go back," sighed the Prince miserably, "to do nothing but attend balls and hunts and court for the rest of my life, but this Road is far more terrible than I was ever willing to admit, yet you say something truly wondrous and worthwhile waits at its further end?"

Bayard nodded joyously, "certainly my friend!"

"And you would give it up to follow me back to a life of meaningless tedium?" said the flummoxed Prince.

"Could that not also be considered a Road of sorts?" teased Bayard, "Though one infinitely longer!"

"It is at that," laughed Ithril grimly, but his budding smile did not escape his friend's notice. "Let's be off then, the Road it is!"

"Might I accompany you?" asked the girl, whose presence the Prince had completely forgotten amidst his own troubles.

"Certainly, milady!" said Ithril with a bow that would have been appropriate for a duchess, "Now what is your strange tale?"

A sudden sob broke her once calm expression, as she said, "I followed my brother when he thought to take this Road. He didn't know I had tagged along, until he passed that horrid witch by but I was enthralled with her words. He ran back in surprise to rescue me, but alas, she..." She could say nothing more, as she fell to her knees, sobbing miserably. She looked up at Bayard and sniffed, "perhaps I can find him upon that strange path, even as you survived to rescue your friend?"

Bayard shook his head grimly, "I know not milady, but that is no proper reason to walk the Road, either you pursue the journey with a willing heart or not, it will not be a means to an end." His thoughtful frown deepened, "speaking of which, I do not know how it is I still linger amongst the living. I was certain that hag had struck a fatal blow but here I am, completely uninjured!"

"Who should be surprised at miracles upon this odd way?" asked the Prince thoughtfully, "But whatever the case may be, glad am I to have you back, my friend!"

"Shall we be off then?" asked Bayard, "Or do you two wish to sleep?"

"Let us be as far from this place as it is possible to get," said the girl vehemently, Kaya by name, "and as we walk, you can tell me what you can of this Road that I might decide whether I want to pursue it or not."

"A most excellent plan," said Ithril, taking the lady's arm and leading the way back to the Road.

"Your Highness!" protested she, "I am but the daughter of a cooper, a peasant!"

"What is that upon this strange Road, milady?" asked the Prince cordially, "Are we not merely men, no longer claiming any rank, station, rights, or title?"

"Quite," agreed she, as Bayard laughed brightly, "it seems you have been listening after all, my friend!"

"I am not quite so complete a loss as you think me, dear friend," replied Ithril happily, but sobering, he added, "we must agree what is to be done when the inevitable sundering or sorrow comes upon this wretched Path? Will we stay true to one another or follow the Path set before us?"

Bayard shook his head grimly, "this is no romp to a foreign land upon a visit of state, Sire," cautioned he, "we must pursue the Road and that alone, our personal feelings and relationships can be nothing to that."

"But you came after me!" said the Prince.

"I was given a special dispensation as the witch had cheated," said Bayard quietly, "it shall not be so again."

"So if you are carried away by a horde of goblins?" asked the Prince in dismay.

"You must leave me to my fate and continue upon your way," said Bayard, "the Prize must be of more value to you than anything else, even me."

"Very well," sighed Ithril heavily, "but it is a sore task for a man of noble heart!"

"But do we not seek the Noblest Heart upon this strange trek?" countered Bayard joyously, "He Who is faithful above and beyond all things? He will not abandon us, though it seems utter night stands eternally between us and all we once cherished."

"You are saying He must mean more to me than you?" said Ithril thoughtfully, "Then perhaps I can stomach the idea when you put it like that, but the very idea of abandoning you else makes me heartsick!"

"But you will not be abandoning me," said Bayard joyously, "for I can never escape His great and mighty hand! It is not for you to keep me safe, that is His responsibility. Our duty is to walk the Path He sets us, be it the Road or life itself!"

"Or a ball?" said Kaya in absolute wonder, her gaze fixed immediately ahead upon precisely that.

"A ball?!" said Bayard, all astonishment, "But thence does our path truly lie! I have never heard of the like."

Ithril frowned slightly but amusement sparkled in his eyes, "what was all that about dangers and dreads and traps and villains, my friend? I was prepared for any evil one might encounter in the wide world, but to set out upon an adventure only to be waylaid by a ball, waiting in ambush, is quite a terrible disappointment."

"A ball?!" said Bayard again, as if he could not quite wrap his mind around the phenomenon.

"Get used to it," grinned Kaya, "after setting foot upon this Road, I doubt anything will ever again be what we used to consider normal."

"At least in that we are agreed," blushed Bayard like a crimson sunset, "but a ball!"

"Let's just get it over with," burst out Ithril in amused exasperation, "at least you don't have to stand around just watching me dance at this one."

"Or do I?" mused Bayard with a slight, pensive frown, "Doesn't that look like a familiar room?"

"It does indeed," said the Prince in dismay, "have we come home indeed?"

"It must be another test of the Road," said Kaya sensibly, "and if that be the case, might I have a dance with the Prince?"

"That you may, my dear!" triumphed the boy, offering her his arm, "Let's go offend all my noble relations and every mother of an eligible maiden in the realm."

Bayard smiled wryly, as they approached the swirling mass of people, "at least if we are to incite a civil war, we shall be far away when it starts!"

"Now there is wisdom indeed," laughed the Prince heartily, slipping expertly into the mass of people like a minnow into a school of tiny fishes, for he had been doing such his entire life.

There were a few surprised murmurs, for none had expected the youngest prince to make an appearance, traveling abroad as his parents said he was, but when they noticed the insignificant person on his arm, the murmurs grew to tremors, and when he actually danced with the insignificant creature, a storm was imminent. His mother tried to decorously draw him aside and explain the matter; his father rumbled threats of disinheritance and worse; his older brothers smirked and exchanged knowing smiles. They came to the far side of the room and saw an inexplicable path leading out into the night dark gardens and followed it faithfully, again in a strange wood rather than walled in by familiarity and formality, if not the palace itself.

"That was certainly wretched," sighed Ithril in dismay.

"But you passed!" said Kaya brightly, "And I got to dance with a Prince at a real royal ball!"

"And I got to watch you," said Bayard dryly, "something I do all the time!"

"I would have gladly traded places with you, my friend," said the Prince sadly, but a strange hope glimmered beneath the dismay, "but it seems I have passed one perilous trap at least."

"What a strange path," mused Kaya, trying to lighten the mood with philosophical conundrums, "were we really there?"

"I believe we were," mused Ithril, "I do not believe any phantom reality could have been quite so true to my irate father or so wrenching to my heart."

"I do not believe we are done with heartache, my friends," said Bayard sadly, but raising his sword, he charged boldly into the seething mass, of what could only be goblins, blocking the entirety of the path before them, "I will buy you passage, run and do not look back!"

"We'll see you on the further side!" said the Prince wretchedly, taking the lady's hand and dashing off with all speed while Bayard smiled wistfully over his shoulder before turning to face the oncoming hoard.

But the monsters didn't leap upon him and tear him apart as he thought they must. They just stood there looking dreadful and rather bored, but making no move after the refugees or towards the stymied warrior who was frozen in utter confusion. At last Bayard asked faintly, "aren't you going to attack?"

"Why should we?" asked the largest specimen.

"Isn't that what goblins do?" asked Bayard in absolute puzzlement, but putting up his sword as it seemed he had no need for it at the moment.

"Goblins do quite a few other things as well," replied the leader of the hideous band, "do not men do other things beside fight with goblins?"

"Yes," smiled Bayard wanly, "quite a few things in fact."

"Then why wouldn't you give us the same consideration?" replied the ugly creature quite reasonably.

"I just assumed that since you appeared upon the Road," began Bayard, "that it must be some test or other, but it seems I am quite wrong and I truly apologize for the misunderstanding."

"It is quite alright," agreed the leader of the creatures, "it is no fault of yours whither or when that strange path wanders, happily for you we have already eaten recently and well."

"I shall be off then," said Bayard brightly in farewell.

"I think not, boy," said a far more sinister voice, as the entire pack of goblins squeaked in terror and scattered like frightened mice fleeing the sudden advent of the mistress of the house in their midst.

Bayard clutched at his sword as he turned to face this new menace, a thing far taller and broader than a man, wrought all of dark mist and flaming bones, clad in sable armor and a voluminous cloak more like shadow than cloth. Said the boy boldly, "what have I to do with you, fiend?"

"It is my business to see that none finishes this silly journey you have set yourself," hissed the monster in contempt, "now run home before your mother has reason to weep!"

Mused the boy, strangely unafraid, "you would scare me from the Way when you could easily destroy me? Does that mean if I die upon this Road that I still might accomplish the journey even so?"

"I will not answer such a foolish question, wretch!" spat the thing, before it vanished in a flash of darkness. Bayard grinned broadly and made to hurry after his sundered friends, eager to relieve their worry and dread as to his fate, but as he crested the hill before him, the world opened before him in a wide and pathless plain, peopled by rolling hills and waving grass but nothing else as far as his eyes could see. The Road just ended. He turned to retrace his steps but found it had vanished from behind him as well, leaving him adrift in this vast, grassy sea, but strangely he was not afraid, only bemused by happenings of late, especially the peculiar idea inspired by that horrid wraith.

"If I die upon this path?" said the boy to a daisy beside his knee, it nodded knowingly in reply, troubled more by the passing breeze than the boy was with his riddle. His eyes narrowed, nor had he trembled before that terrible monster, whose mere presence was enough to scatter those fell goblins, which could have been a dangerous foe in such numbers, had they stood and fought, but they scattered like beetles when a log is overturned. And the Road had quite literally abandoned him, certainly a phenomenon never mentioned in the stories, when it was the duty of the traveler to stay true to the path, but since when did a path abandon anyone of its own accord? And why was that strange man so easy with himself in allowing a mere boy to confront a fell sorceress alone, when he had sensed nothing ignoble or cowardly in his character, far from it!

It was the only answer, but what kind of an answer was it? He had completed the Road then, but now what? He doubted the Road had dumped him in this wide, vacant land upon a mere whim or as some sort of joke, there must be something to accomplish here, but what? The daisy waved indifferently in the quickening wind, but happily an answer, or at least a novel sound, came from another direction as the thunder of hooves filled his ears. He turned to look upon a fabulous horse approaching at the gallop, the creature reared and screamed suddenly to avoid trampling the strange youth that had appeared suddenly in those empty lands.

The creature's feet returned to the earth and he snorted in disgust as he studied the boy, before saying in wonder, "you're naught but a mere foal, an unweaned colt!"

"I am at least weaned," laughed Bayard lightly, "if still a very young man."

The horse cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, "you are not astounded to meet a talking horse?"

The boy snorted, "after everything else I have seen this day, what is a sapient horse?"

The horse pawed the ground and snorted in warning, "and you have no fool notion of taming or capturing such a wondrous beast?"

"Certainly not!" grinned the boy, "It would be easier to make a pet of my youngest sister and equally foolish!"

"Then I suppose we can keep company together for a time," said the horse amiably, adding wistfully, "it has been quite lonely of late."

Bayard frowned slightly, "have you no family or kin?"

"I am an exile from my homeland," said the horse stonily, "and I dare not enter the lands of men, knowing what most will do upon seeing so wondrous a beast unattended."

"I am sorry," said the boy honestly, "but I would be glad to accompany you, if it will lighten the burden of your sorrow. Have you a destination in mind or do you just wander whither you would?"

"I have no plans or purpose or place I belong," said the horse wretchedly, "I am an outcast and a pariah, doomed merely to live and die, like these benighted men."

"The plight of mankind is not so grievous," said the boy keenly, "at least if we will bow our stubborn necks to the Master's yoke."

"There may be redemption for fallen man," snorted the horse in dismay, "but what of the other races?"

Bayard shook his head, "I know little of any folk or kindred but my own, but I would assume His offer of forgiveness and redemption would apply to any fallen soul willing to seek it."

The horse whickered in approbation, "for so young a creature, you speak a great deal of sense and have given me far more hope than even your company inspires. You must tell me more of these tales, for little do I know of such things."

"Certainly," said the boy, as they slowly began to amble off companionably among the gentle hills and slightly swaying grass. As the evening stars gradually appeared above them, the boy asked, "have you found a purpose at last?"

"Perhaps," said the horse, Erian by name, "one of those peculiar tales you told, of the Road, do you think I could take it?"

"I do not see why not," grinned the boy, even as the Way opened suddenly before them.

"Will you come with me still?" pled the horse, uneager to lose the only true friend he had found in all his wanderings.

"For as long as I am allowed," said the boy truthfully, "but for part or most of the way, I believe we each must travel alone, to stand or fall by our own faithfulness."

"And if I should die upon it?" queried the horse.

Bayard smiled wryly, "as long as you are true to its Master, I believe that is all that matters. Stray from it at your own peril, but an honest death thereupon is nothing to fear."

"Very well," said the horse, tossing his head and rearing in excitement, "let us be off." The boy gave him an eager smile and was about to do just that, but the horse grabbed the back of his tunic with his teeth and said, "not so fast, my friend. We shall look rather ridiculous walking side by side, you had best ride."

"If you insist," said Bayard.

"I do," said the horse wretchedly, "it was in refusing just that that I found myself banished from all I knew and loved."

"There are greater things beyond," said the boy joyously, "even if the Road is determined to sunder us from all we previously loved, whatever is lost will be restored tenfold!"

"Up you get lad," said the horse eagerly, "the sooner that we may see these fabled better things!" They trotted off into the deepening night like a carefree boy abroad on a feast day.

"Bayard!" said Ithril, jolting to his feet in joy and astonishment as he recognized the man aback the wonderful horse that had just trotted up the Road beside their little camp.

The boy slid from the broad back and dashed to his excited friends, trying to answer their myriad questions, one atop the other, laughingly saying, "the creatures weren't hungry, but rather standing about at their leisure when the Road intruded itself upon them." He glanced significantly at the horse, who nodded slightly that the boy might reveal what he would, continued he, "and I have found another companion." They looked at him as if they feared him mad, but as he made the introductions, the horse bowed quite politely and whinnied a laugh at their wonder before ambling off to help himself to the grass growing alongside the Road.

"It seems you have had a few adventures since our parting," said Ithril, going on to explain their own tale of traps, near escapes, and all they had suffered or been tempted with.

Laughed Bayard, bright as the little fire beside them, "now that sounds exactly as the old tales tell it."

"I wonder how far we must go?" asked Kaya of no one in particular, knowing there wasn't an answer.

"Or at least how far we can go together?" mused Bayard.

Ithril snorted, "you are as much a trap as anything on this strange way, my friend, it was rather a relief when I thought you well and truly dead and that I need not worry about you any longer or my reaction thereto."

"No wonder we are reunited," laughed Bayard merrily at his friend's seeming enigma, "that I may try your heart the more!"

"It will not be you who is trying hearts, wretch," came a fell voice, now familiar to Bayard's ears, whether it was the same dreadful creature or not little matter, for one was as terrible as another. "I have no interest in you wretched mortal children, scamper off down the Road to the adventure that awaits you, but leave the horse to me."

"No," said Bayard stonily, rising to his feet and baring his sword, "none of us are your rightful prey, fiend."

"You are a bold little mouse, child of men," laughed the fiend like bones crumbling to dust, "but it will little avail you. If not tonight, then tomorrow or the day thereafter!" It vanished in a flash of darkness, leaving the little dell in peace.

Erian raised his head, still trembling all over even with the thing's departure, even as Kaya and Ithril at last drew a breath and dared rise from their cowering squats, all three studying Bayard in wonder. Said the Prince in amazement, "how is it you are unafraid of such a horror?" Bayard could only shrug and smile enigmatically, for even he did not have an answer.

But another voice out of the night was not so easily satisfied, "that is an excellent question," said a boy, riding into the light of their fire and dismounting.

"Tyrin!" cried Kaya in delight as her brother slid from his saddle, "I knew we would find you on this crazy path, I just knew it!"

"Did you indeed, dear heart?" smiled he in delight, "It seems you are right, now what of your companions?" He eyed Bayard skeptically, "for it is a rare man indeed who can stand his ground in the presence of such a horror!"

"It's a real live Prince and his friend," said she eagerly, blushing slightly she added, "we even attended a royal ball together! They too fell afoul of that awful sorceress, but as you can see, we escaped quite handily and here we are, and finding you again makes it all the sweeter; isn't it wonderful?"

"I'm sure it is truly delightful," said he, noting that Bayard watched him as intently as he studied the strange boy. Asked he politely, "may I join you?"

"Certainly," said Ithril, seating himself and motioning to the stranger to do the same, "tell us all your adventures and we'll regale you with our own."

"Gladly," said Tyrin calmly, but his gaze never strayed from the eldritch youth.

"I'll join you shortly," said Bayard to Ithril, "but I had best go check on Erian."

"I'll be here," said the newcomer stonily, before he turned his attention to his sister and asked, "now what of these adventures of yours?"

Bayard watched the fellow warily for a moment, before vanishing into the shadows just outside the fire where Erian stood watching as well, his ears flicking back and forth in confusion or alarm. "What is it?" asked the boy of the antsy horse.

"This boy," said the horse, "he unsettles me somehow."

"I too am uneasy in his presence," said Bayard quietly, "and he seems to feel the same about me."

"Do you think it is some trick or trap of the Road?" queried the horse.

"I don't think he's a villain," said the boy, "if that is what you are asking, but as to the Road and its ways, I've told you all I know!" He smiled wryly and added, "did not the Prince already accuse me this very day of being the worst trap upon this strange way?"

"I suppose the Road can use almost anyone or any situation as a test," snorted the horse in dismay, "even our dearest friends."

"Or a brother," said Bayard gravely.

"You have not revealed me to the stranger," said the horse quietly.

"And for now I would like to keep it that way," said the boy, "at least until we are sure what he is or is not, if you are amenable?"

"Quite," said the horse, "the fewer who know the better, that fiend already knew somehow and that is a dreadful thought indeed!"

"Just stay true to your original purpose my friend and you have nothing to fear," said he, patting the arching neck in reassurance, "even in death."

"You are right," sighed the horse heavily, "but sometimes that is hard to remember."

"Perhaps it will get easier hereafter," smiled the boy gently in parting as he drifted back towards the cheery little blaze.

Kaya was just finishing up her tale as Bayard seated himself on her far side and next to Ithril, Tyrin sat across the fire from him and kept an eagle eye upon the strange boy even as Bayard returned the favor. Tyrin's eyes narrowed as he asked of his sister, "you say this boy somehow survived the witch's attack and then came, bold as anything, to confront her in her own demesne and she complied?"

"Yes," said she slowly, "I suppose you could say it like that."

"And what is your strange tale?" asked Tyrin of Bayard.

Bayard grinned like a naughty imp, "I might ask the same of you."

"You might at that," grinned the stranger in spite of himself.

"But it seems you will be as forthcoming upon such a topic as myself," mused Bayard, more to himself than to anyone else, but piercing Tyrin with his keen eyes, he asked, "but why?"

"And why are you so hesitant to speak thereof?" countered the other.

"Because I know nothing," said Bayard quietly.

"And I am forbidden from speaking of such things," repaid Tyrin in kind for the lad's honesty.

"Well that was an exciting exchange of tales!" quipped the Prince uneasily, trying to lighten the mood that seemed to have fallen upon their quizzical companions.

"Perhaps we should split up," proposed Kaya into the uneasy silence that followed.

"No!" said all three boys together, exchanging a surprised and mirthful grin amongst themselves at such an outburst.

Ithril yawned and said sleepily, "well at least we agree on something, but I for one need some sleep, good night gentlemen, milady."

Kaya kissed her brother on the cheek and smiled teasingly at him, nodded primly to Bayard, before settling down herself, leaving the two boys to awkwardly share the dying blaze. Bayard laughed uneasily, "is this as awkward for you as it is for me?"

"Certainly," smiled Tyrin, failing to maintain a stony façade, "how is it you can stand firm in the presence of that horror but become antsy in my presence?"

"An excellent question," said Bayard, "and one to which I have no answer. Will it set your heart at ease if I share what happened after that witch attacked us?"

"Why did you not tell me earlier?" frowned the other.

"Why haven't you been explicit with me?" countered Bayard with a wry laugh.

"Because we are strangers that feel uneasy in one another's presence and there are some things we cannot discuss before...my sister and your friend," finished Tyrin lamely.

Bayard asked impishly, "and what were you originally going to say?"

Tyrin took the bait, smiling mischievously himself, "I was going to say mortal men, now what will you say to that?"

"That it makes sense," agreed Bayard thoughtfully, but eyeing his companion skeptically, "if I am explicit with you, will you return the favor?"

"Perhaps," smiled Tyrin mysteriously, "it depends upon what you want to know."

"Very well," said Bayard, "I'll risk it." He briefly recounted his strange adventures in full, trying to read the other's thoughts behind that bland visage.

"You were dead?" frowned Tyrin, "You are sure of it?"

Bayard shook his head, "I am sure of nothing but that is my assumption, have you a better explanation?"

"No," replied he slowly, "but that is not my experience at all. I awoke in a place utterly wonderful, I saw the River, drank of it and found myself submerged therein."

"The End of the Road," sighed Bayard wistfully.

"Who is Erian?" asked Tyrin suddenly, remembering the boy's absence and his supposed errand therewith.

"A horse," said Bayard, daring to say nothing more lest he break his promise.

"Just a horse?" persisted the other, "You did not say your horse or the Prince's horse, rather you say he is a horse but he has no rider?"

"I cannot say more," said Bayard, smiling ruefully, "indeed, I know little more of his past or future than I have summed up in those few inadequate words, but what little I do know, I have promised not to reveal."

"He can talk," said another voice, as Tyrin's mount ambled out of the shadows and draped his head over the boy's shoulder.

"Yes," said Bayard quietly, "but why or how, I do not know." His eyes narrowed as he took in the newcomer, "and what of you? From whence does the race of talking horses come and why do you wander this strange Road?"

The horse blew out his nostrils in amusement, "I am no mean horse lad, far from it, but as to your questions, it is not for me to answer. The better question is why can your companion speak when he is a horse in very truth?"

Bayard shook his head, "he alone knows that, I am afraid." Asked he, "and what is your errand upon this Road?"

Tyrin shrugged, "I only knew I had to rejoin my sister, what we are to accomplish here, I know not. What of you?"

"I merely accompany my friends," said Bayard quietly, "for the moment their path and mine coincide, after, I know not." He brightened slightly and asked eagerly, "what great treasure waits at the End of the Road?"

"I cannot tell you," said Tyrin sadly, "one must discover it for oneself, but it is well worth all the trouble and heartache of achieving it."

"That is something at least," said Bayard, "but what is to come of me? Can I still find the End of the Road and whatever waits there?"

"I suppose you can try," said Tyrin, "the worst they can say is no."

"As if I arrived an unbeliever, eager for the Prize alone rather than its Maker and mine," sighed the boy heavily.

"I do not think you need fear such an end," said Tyrin thoughtfully, "for He does not forsake His own, even if we cannot comprehend His ways at a particular moment."

"Indeed," said Bayard, his hope restored, "I shouldn't even be able to tread this Road, let alone fret about what lies at its End! I must trust Him as ever I have."

"Wisdom indeed, my friend," said Tyrin genially, "please forgive my suspicions at the first."

Bayard smiled, "I was as wary about you, my friend." His eyes narrowed in question, "who or what did you take me for?"

"Some villain or trap of the Road, I suppose," mused Tyrin, "I am very new at this myself, remember?"

"Quite," grinned Bayard, "but have I allayed your fears?"

"The puzzle has only deepened," said Tyrin, "but while uncanny, you are no villain."

"Much as I feel towards you!" smiled Bayard, from his heart.

"I can keep watch if you want to sleep," said Tyrin.

Bayard shook his head, "I'm not really sleepy, I was about to propose the same thing to you."

"I have no need of such," said Tyrin.

"Mortal men," pondered Bayard curiously, queried he, "what happens if you leave the Road?"

Tyrin shrugged, "space and time mean nothing to those beyond it, I can appear wherever and whenever I am supposed to be."

"But the Road abandoned me!" said Bayard in wonder, "And then it appeared when it was needed."

"And your old companions were still upon it," smiled Tyrin knowingly, "by everything I have ever heard or experienced on this strange way, that is all wrong!"

"Precisely," said Bayard, "what is wrong with me?"

"Nothing is wrong with you, I think," said Tyrin, "rather I believe the old tales just don't cover such a circumstance. For if you are indeed dead as you believe, then you too must be a man beyond time and death."

"I'm certainly beyond normal experience," grinned Bayard.

"Anyone who treads the Road might say the same," yawned Ithril, coming to sit beside the cold ashes amid the grey light of early morning, "did you two really stay up all night talking and neither of you had sense enough to tend the fire?" The pair exchanged an enigmatical grin but it seemed the Prince's question was merely rhetorical, as he did not protest when they remained silent.

"I'll go see to the horses," proposed Tyrin, asking of Bayard, "care to join me?"

"Certainly," grinned the boy; Ithril yawning anew, was happy to see the pair was finally getting along, but too tired to give it much more thought as he tried to stifle yet another yawn.

Once they were alone with the so-called horses, Tyrin's mount said to Erian, whose ears rose straight up in shock at discovering the true nature of his equine companion, "come friend, what is your own tale?"

Erian laid his ears back and scowled at Bayard, "I thought you had promised to say nothing of the matter?"

"He did not betray you," said Avery bluntly, "I heard you speaking when he came to visit you last night. Who or what are you?"

"A mere traveler upon the Road," countered Erian stonily, "now what of you two?"

"We have an errand hereupon," said Tyrin, "will you not be more explicit?"

"Not if you will not," said he.

Tyrin grinned ruefully, "there is little more I can say, I knew I must attend my sister but I know neither the why or for how long."

"Then know that I walk this Road because I must," sighed the horse heavily, "I believe it is my only way Home."

"As it is for many," said Tyrin gently, "we shall respect your confidence, if that be your wish?"

"For now," said Erian quietly, "but it is a relief to meet men who will treat me like an equal rather than a slave!"

"Slavery indeed!" snorted Avery in amusement at the very thought, added he gravely, "If freedom was so grand, what are you doing walking this painful Road?"

But the only answer was a grunt of pain as Bayard fell senseless at Erian's feet, the creature would have reared in protest at such a question or in surprise at the boy's antics, but for fear of crushing the prone lad. Tyrin knelt beside the unmoving form, gently turning him over to reveal a shallow, bleeding gash over one shoulder but there was no obvious weapon or any other lesions that might account for the boy's faint. Tyrin easily scooped up the senseless boy and bore him back to camp, where Ithril had rekindled the fire.

Said the Prince in surprise, "what happened?"

"I don't know," said Tyrin with a frown, "we were tending to the horses and suddenly he grunted in pain and collapsed. There's a shallow gash on his shoulder but no other wound to account for it."

"Let's get him cleaned up at least," said the Prince with a puzzled frown, "he's survived worse than this on our mad journey!"

As they cleansed and bound the wound, Bayard started awake, glancing about groggily and wondering where he was and why he felt so dreadful. Said Tyrin quietly, "your shoulder is injured."

Bayard frowned slightly, "but there is no further sign of the villain? Why inflict such a minor wound and vanish?"

Ithril smiled to see Bayard awake and teased gently, "you've survived worse my friend, I believe you'll survive this mere scratch. I'd best go fetch some fresh water for breakfast as you've used up whatever we had left."

As the Prince dashed off, Tyrin said quietly, "you are bleeding."

Bayard smiled wryly, "a common occurrence from such a wound."

"Not for a man beyond death," said Tyrin grimly.

"Perhaps I was wrong?" mused Bayard, "Maybe I had just lapsed into unconsciousness then too?"

Tyrin frowned and shook his head, "did you notice the fire was dying out last night?"

"No," said Bayard quietly, "what of it?"

"You didn't think it was getting rather dark to sit around and talk all night?" persisted the boy, "At least for reasonable folk?"

"Not that I noticed, no," said Bayard slowly, but adding with a wan grin, "but perhaps I am just unreasonable?"

"You could see in the dark," said Tyrin bluntly, "you were not blind as any mortal man on a starless night, a skill peculiar to men beyond time."

"But now I am bleeding?" asked the puzzled boy.

"You also fainted," said Tyrin, "a strange reaction to so minor a wound. What if that knife did more than break the skin?"

"What are you saying?" asked Bayard anxiously, "I do feel rather like death warmed over all of a sudden, I have not been this uncomfortable since that witch stabbed me."

"Another symptom of mortality," said Tyrin quietly.

Bayard actually laughed, "why so grim my friend? I haven't been acquainted with this uncanny existence long enough to know what I'm missing! Now I can accompany our friends without eliciting the least suspicion as to my previously odd behavior." He frowned thoughtfully, "but what is the point of restoring mortality to one beyond it?"

"What if they weren't aiming at you?" proposed Tyrin boldly.

"Erian?!" said Bayard in wonder, "What could such a weapon do to a mortal creature?"

"If it can pull you back into time and space," said Tyrin slowly, "perhaps it can push him out of it?"

"Instant death," gasped Bayard in horror, adding with a wry smile, "except when it is instant life!"

"Perhaps the River will restore what has been lost?" replied Tyrin.

"That or death," said Bayard, sitting up as Ithril returned with his full bucket, grinning happily to see the invalid recovering his strength and humor. "Those fell things know that Erian is more than a simple horse," continued Bayard, "that fiend boasted of it just last night."

"Then the sooner you all finish the Road, the better," nodded Tyrin, "have you strength enough to be off?"

"Certainly," said Bayard, easing himself to his feet but smiling dryly at Ithril, "though I fear your water-fetching will little avail us."

The Prince grinned, "I'm sure the horses will appreciate my efforts even if the rest of you do not." They wakened Kaya and were soon enough on their way, Bayard yawning expansively aback Erian, wishing he had slept the previous night as sensible folk usually do.

Erian glanced back at his passenger and asked, "have you gained weight or is your mysterious injury causing issues with your balance?"

"I can certainly walk, my friend," smiled Bayard archly, "if I am too much of a burden, but yes, my injury seems to be importuning more than just myself."

"Do not be ridiculous," snorted the horse, "you are injured and it is the least I can do."

"But the others are afoot," said Tyrin, "we might move faster if we could get them horsed."

"Not through that terrain!" said Erian, gazing straight ahead. They turned their eyes thither and gasped, for a rough, rocky, climbing country opened suddenly out of the rather pleasant woodland about them. "A goat might find easy passage, but the rest of us will have a difficult time making any speed in such a place." He frowned slightly at Tyrin, "why the haste?"

"Let's just say I am deeply troubled that the minions of the Enemy have taken an interest in you, my friend," said Tyrin grimly.

"You are not the only one," said Erian gravely, but gazing at Bayard over his shoulder with one great eye, he added, "but someone assures me that dying upon this Road is as good as reaching its End."

"Or so I hope," smiled Bayard sheepishly.

"Then you have nothing to fear, my friends," agreed Tyrin heartily, "for that is indeed the case. But come, we have a difficult journey before us, perhaps Bayard should take my place aback Avery and I shall walk, to spare Erian as much trouble as we can in this rocky waste?"

Erian momentarily laid his ears back in frustration at losing his rider, but Bayard smiled at him as if he was ridiculous, he snorted in amusement at his own annoyance, but he did ask, "why go to such trouble to spare me and not Avery?"

"He's obviously a far younger horse, or at least more spry," laughed Bayard easily, "come my friend, it is no slight to you, this land will weary almost anyone without the added burden of an invalid upon his back besides."

"Younger indeed!" snorted Erian skeptically, "We shall see who is the spriest, but I do not mind taking turns if we must, that at least makes a great deal of sense." He glared balefully at Bayard, but ruined the effect with an amused snort, "you are just lucky we don't leave you here!"

"I am at that," agreed Bayard, slipping from Erian's back and awkwardly mounting Avery's vacant saddle, "but as I am done delaying the party, why are we idling about here?"

"He is certainly a dreadful taskmaster," snorted Avery in amusement, and in an aside to Erian, he added, "perhaps I begin to understand where your ideas of slavery originate?"

"Quite," laughed Erian as they set forth once more.

"Did your horse just speak?!" said Ithril to Tyrin.

"Indeed," smiled Tyrin, "as yours does, why should you be surprised that mine does as well?"

"This journey just keeps getting stranger," said the flabbergasted Prince, "this must be some Prize at the End of the Road."

"It is well worth it, my friend," smiled Tyrin like morning itself, "but come, we have a long and tiring walk ahead of us, let us not waste our breath on what-ifs but set our gazes firmly upon that far horizon and travel thither as boldly as we might." Ithril was not about to argue, for it now took all his concentration and energy to find a path through that rocky and impossible land, even the Road itself was strewn with a vast array of stones from miniscule rocks to great boulders twice the size of the horses.

Erian was soon lathered in sweat and struggling as much, if not more, than the humans, for they only had two feet to worry about and forelimbs made for grasping and climbing, while he could hardly find a firm place to set one hoof, let alone four, but Avery seemed fresh from the stable, as did Tyrin, though the heat of the day, a night without sleep, his injury, and the dust seemed to be taking a toll upon Bayard's strength, even aback so smooth gaited and docile a mount.

"How do you do it?" panted Erian to the untroubled Avery.

He flicked his tail lazily and yawned hugely, saying easily, "it is rumored that my relative youth and innate spryness might have something to do with it."

"That or you're part goat," chuckled Tyrin, though the rest of their companions were far from mirthful at the moment, as they huddled in the shadow of a great boulder and sipped sparingly at their waterskins.

"You'd best go on without me," said Bayard heavily, "I'm afraid I will only slow you down and use up more of our water than we can spare."

Kaya felt his flushed forehead and said quietly, "he does have a slight fever."

"I'm sure he is merely overheated with the exertions of the day," said Ithril in exasperation, "do not be ridiculous, my friend! You might be allowed to run off and chase goblins by yourself, but we will not be abandoning you for so silly a reason as a slight scratch!"

"But it may be the difference between life and death for the rest of the party!" protested Bayard.

"Then we'll live or die together," said Ithril bluntly, "quit talking nonsense!"

"We'd best get going," said Kaya reluctantly, "if we are ever to find our way out of this rocky wasteland."

Ithril had to help Bayard back into his saddle, as the Prince said gruffly to Avery, "the fool actually suggested we leave him behind!"

Avery snorted in amusement, "I'll see that he doesn't accomplish anything so ridiculous!"

Said Erian miserably, "I wish I could be of assistance as well."

Avery blew out his nostrils impatiently, "just focus on getting yourself through this desert, I'll see to the boy."

"I appreciate it," said Erian, setting one weary foot in from of another, as the little party set off through the heat of the afternoon. As the sun set, they found a muddy pool at the base of another great boulder and decided to make camp, for they would get nowhere stumbling through that impossible waste in the dark. They quenched their thirst, ate whatever provisions they still carried, and were soon lost to an exhausted sleep.

"The boy's strength is fading," said Avery quietly to Tyrin as the others slept and they watched the night, "he might survive another day or two, but if this grievous toil and heat lasts much beyond that, he's done, as is Erian, for this terrain will kill mortal horses."

"Perhaps it will be a kindness for them both?" said the boy quietly, adding quizzically, "What do you suspect Erian is?"

"I believe he is a fallen Pegassi," said the seeming horse bluntly, "the forefathers of men chose to rebel at the Beginning and corrupted the whole race, for the Pegassi, it is an individual choice, though none has ever done so that I ever heard of. Now it is my turn, my friend, what of the boy?"

"If it was possible," said Tyrin pensively, "I'd say he was a Messenger, but I do not know how that is possible if he has never seen the River."

"They are certainly an odd pair if ever I saw one," chuckled Avery, "but it seems there is already a bond between them, you saw how anxious Erian was when you suggested I carry the lad."

"Perhaps they will soon come into their own," mused Tyrin eagerly, "even if it seems a tragedy to the balance of the party." But all further discussion was at an end, for both were on their feet while Tyrin's hand strayed to his sword hilt. "Who goes?" challenged the boy of the unseen menace he felt in the deepest shadows outside the little camp.

"Who dares to ask?" came a voice like wind in a tomb.

"I ward their passage," said Tyrin boldly, allowing a deadly glimmer of light to shine through his bland exterior.

"I want the boy and the horse," hissed the voice, "the rest may go their way in peace."

"Why that particular pair?" asked Tyrin grimly.

"As long as the wretched boy lives, a certain weapon is now useless and I would have it functional once more," spat the voice, "the other is too tempting a prize not to snatch up when the chance presents itself."

"The horse has repented and seeks again his true Master," warned Tyrin, "death holds no terror for him and his life can be of no use to you or your grim master. The boy will be dead soon enough unless this rocky waste gives place to less trying terrain."

"Then I shall wait, wraith," spat the fiend, "but do not think you have spared any of them this night, you have merely delayed the inevitable."

They stumbled through that weary land for three more days, but at last Erian lay down and could not rise again, his feet felt as if they were afire and he was in an agony of pain and thirst. "I'll stay with him," panted Bayard, weak with fever and thirst, "the rest of you must continue on."

"No!" protested Ithril wretchedly, "This will be the third time I've left you for dead!"

Bayard smiled weakly, "it has little availed me thus far, what makes you think I will succeed this time?"

"He's right," said Tyrin grimly, "you must remain faithful to the Road or die upon it. Neither can go on, but you and Kaya can. You must trust them to the Master's care, as you have done all else."

"When will this wretched testing be finished!" cried Ithril in despair, "Forgive me my friends!"

"There's nothing to forgive," said Bayard quietly, "we'll meet again soon enough, my friend, now get going before you too become a permanent resident." Kaya wept openly, Ithril gave his friends a grim salute, Tyrin nodded sadly in farewell, and Avery nudged them both gently with his beautiful head, but soon enough they were gone, vanished beyond a distant hill, and with them, the Road, leaving the pair alone in that pathless waste with the sun still beating brutally down overhead.

"Will you tell me now your own tale?" asked the fading boy of the wild-eyed horse, hoping to focus his attention on something but his own agony.

"I was a Pegassi once," panted Erian, "but I forsook my Master, people, and homeland in denying the one thing ever asked of me. Now I die a foundered horse in a desolate waste."

"But neither alone nor friendless," said Bayard quietly, "I am proud to die beside you and can't wait to meet upon a brighter morning..." The boy slumped into unconsciousness as death's cold hand reached towards him.

"Farewell my friend," said Erian sadly, gazing wretchedly upon the wan and wasted figure beside him, "you have restored my faith not only in Him, but in my true purpose and in humanity, with whom I should have partnered. Perhaps we shall meet again on that brighter morning, and together we can fight those things against which there is no other recourse to be found in mortal lands."

"Like me?" snarled a fiendish voice, "Do you really want to die, nag? And then be a horse for hire the rest of eternity?"

"It is my birthright and duty," said Erian weakly, his physical agony lending strength to his quailing heart, "what would you have of me? To be a wretched slave to your fell master? I think not, it is far better to die a ruined nag in the wilderness!"

"Perhaps you do not fear for your own life, horse," sneered the thing, "but what of the boy's? I could heal him and then bear him to a prison where he will know nothing but agony for all the years between now and his death of old age, what you feel at this moment will be nothing to his suffering and it will be endured for years to come."

"No," said the wretched beast, "even could I spare him somehow, my soul belongs to Another..." A bloody froth foamed at Erian's mouth and nose, but never would he move or speak more, at least as a mortal horse.

"Drat!" hissed the fiend, but he brightened slightly as he gazed upon the stricken boy, adding, "At least I can get my knife back!"

"Not so fast, fiend!" came a voice like the first birdsong of Spring and a light a thousand-fold more brilliant. The wraith hissed in despair as it vanished like a shadow in the sun, for it could not stand the combined light of so many unveiled servants of the Master.

"Are we in time?" came the urgent question.

"A Messenger is always in time," laughed Tyrin brightly, flinging himself from Avery's back and kneeling beside the deathly still boy. "He lives, but barely," said he, pouring the contents of a small vial into the boy's open mouth. Bayard coughed weakly and blinked vaguely awake, wondering if perhaps the sun itself now walked among men. Tyrin smiled wryly and motioned for his companions to veil their radiant forms, lest they inadvertently blind the boy.

"Am I dead?" queried Bayard weakly.

"Sorry my friend," smiled Tyrin, "not yet, orders!"

"Orders?" said the boy, slowly sitting up and glancing about wretchedly at the wasted lands and dead horse. His eyes narrowed, "didn't I tell the lot of you to leave us?"

"We did," grinned Ithril, "but we've come back."

"You've reached the End?" gasped Bayard.

Tyrin shook his head, "it will little avail you, save a bit of spectacular sightseeing perhaps."

"Erian?" sighed Bayard, glancing sadly at the dead horse.

"Right in front of you, my friend," said the Pegassi, momentarily unveiling himself as he nuzzled the overwrought boy gently.

He threw his arms gratefully around the arching neck as the Pegassi knelt beside him, unsure whether he was weeping or laughing or some combination thereof, said Bayard at last, "I see you have at last come into your own, but what of me?"

"He's rather sulky for a Messenger," snorted Erian in amusement, "are you sure about this?"

Tyrin shook his head, "be easy upon the poor fellow, he has no idea what has befallen him!"

"Why won't the River avail me?" asked Bayard desperately.

Tyrin smiled brightly at the flummoxed boy, "because it can only avail a man once, after that he merely gets wet." At the boy's shocked expression, Tyrin laughed merrily as all the others joined joyously in, "what do you think restored you to life after that witch had her way with you?"

"But I never saw the River," said the boy weakly.

"That's because I brought the River to you, lad," said the strange man who had sent Bayard after the sorceress at the first. All the others saluted smartly as Bayard blinked in confusion. Garren held out a hand to the boy, and as he pulled Bayard to his feet, he said, "I am called Garren, Captain of the Master's Messengers."

"Messengers?!" said Bayard, looking very much like he might faint and negate the Captain's efforts on his behalf.

Tyrin clapped him eagerly on the back and said, "it's the service that awaits those who successfully complete the Road." He laughed anew, like a brook in flood, "or those who die faithfully upon it."

"Then why do I still feel like death on a hot afternoon?" queried Bayard, still not sure he wasn't delirious.

"Because that is what it feels like to nearly die and be restored to mortal life," grinned Garren, "rather than dying in truth and being restored to life beyond death."

"Orders?" asked Bayard faintly.

"Exactly," said Garren, "otherwise we could simply have let you die and you would have been restored to your proper form, but the Master has some plot or plan that requires a Messenger in mortal guise, hence your continued existence in this indifferent state."

"But I'm still a Messenger?" said the boy hopefully.

"As you have been from the moment I woke you from death's grim sleep," assured Garren, "even if you knew it not."

"Then let's get busy!" grinned Bayard eagerly.

"I thought you would never ask!" said Erian, rearing eagerly, his great wings bright as the nascent dawn.

"And we all made it?" grinned Bayard, catching each and every eye from amongst his former companions and nodding in greeting to their excited Pegassi.

"Everybody is horsed but you lad," chuckled Garren, "you'd best be off about whatever it is that has caused you so much trouble and discomfort in preparation thereof." And with a flutter of bright wings, they vanished from that desolate and lonely place, adventure bent.

"Is this the same ball?" asked Bayard of the widely smiling Prince with the bright eyed and radiantly smiling Kaya on his arm.

"It is indeed, my friend," chuckled Ithril in anticipation, "but I believe we are only a minor distraction, it is you that will have the leading role."

"Mortal that I am," smiled Bayard grimly, "at least it will be interesting." He laughed at his own folly, "not that I've had a chance to learn what it is to be a Messenger, hence I will not know what I'm missing!"

"Precisely," smiled Kaya, "now go have an adventure while we give the palace gossips something to hash over again and again for years to come."

"Scandal indeed," laughed Bayard, abandoning his friends to the dance that was then forming up and going to consort with he knew not whom. He wandered about the food tables for a bit and then ambled over towards the door opening into the gardens, once they had escaped that way, but not this time, for there was no Road wending its way thither nor a bright Pegassi waiting to bear him wherever or whenever they had a need to be.

"Finally abandoned the Prince, have you?" said a contemptuous youth at Bayard's shoulder.

The boy turned to face his impolite companion, a mean youth called Tyne, the youngest son of one of the greatest lords in the realm, but still a younger son with little chance at any sort of an inheritance for all of that. Said Bayard blandly, "he has made his choice it seems and must deal with the consequences."

"Palace gossip says you two were traveling abroad," insinuated the overbold youth, "but what were you really up to?"

Bayard smiled grimly, "we thought to attempt the Road."

"Ah!" smiled the sinister boy in anticipation, "Would you dare it again?"

"Certainly," said Bayard archly, "perhaps this time I can actually finish."

"Your friend's little love affair got in the way, eh?" derided Tyne, "How about a companion that won't fail for so fickle a reason?"

"Let's be about it then," said Bayard grimly.

"Now?!" said the astonished youth.

"What is to stop us?" smiled Bayard wryly, "Unless you are afraid you'll miss the next set?"

"I have several companions I would have accompany us," retorted Tyne, "besides, we aren't exactly prepared for a journey!"

Bayard shrugged, "it little matters, what is needed will be provided, or it won't. Gather your friends and ready your horses, unless you'd like to spend the rest of the evening lolling about this stifling and crowded ballroom?"

"Certainly not!" spat Tyne, "We can leave immediately, for all our companions are idling about the palace tonight and their horses are in the stable."

"I'll meet you in the courtyard," said Bayard, venturing thither that very moment and not waiting for a reply, leaving the astonished Tyne to gape for a moment like a landed fish. Who was this least son of a minor noble to suddenly take command? He wouldn't stand for it, not in the least! It was one thing for him to act as a meek and humble guide, whom Tyne was doing a great favor by allowing him to accompany them at all. He should be a bootlicker and toady, like he had been to the Prince, not an equal partner in the endeavor. A malicious smile lit his face as he stalked off to round up the rest of their company, he'd settle the fellow once and for all!

Tyne soon had his astonished and dandified companions assembled in the night dark courtyard, the servants scrambling to ready their horses upon such sudden notice, but soon enough they were all mounted and ready, Bayard ready to lead the little party off, but Tyne pushed him aside and said, "when I need your input I'll ask for it, until then, remember I am the leader of this company!"

"Certainly," said Bayard patiently, "I had no intention of usurping your place, I merely thought as I have done this once before, I might get us started and then you would be free to do as it pleases you."

"Very well," spat Tyne, "get us started and then get out of the way!"

Bayard nodded and Erian immediately trotted off, out the main gate of the castle and onto the Road, the bustling city nowhere to be seen. Tyne cantered up beside him and said, "that's quite impressive! Now that we're upon this accursed Way, I will be leading us, but what can you tell us of the rules or laws by which this Path is governed?"

Bayard shook his head, "if you stray from the Road at any time, it will abandon you wherever you are and you will not find it again and will be stuck wherever you left it. There are a variety of traps, tricks, and dangers along the way set to test your heart and some may prove fatal. It is vital to remain faithful to the Road, but even more so to the Power behind it if you wish to succeed."

"The Power behind it?!" scoffed Tyne, "And what of you? How did you fall off of it and can now tread it once more?"

"I did not leave the Road, it left me," said Bayard quietly, "I was left for dead and it went on its merry way."

"And now you would prove yourself its master!" said Tyne appreciatively, "You have spirit, and if you can remember your place, you might do well. Now move aside!"

Erian drew back and allowed the impossible boy to take his place at the head of the parade. As Tyne took the place of honor, Bayard drew alongside the other members of the company, three younger sons of lesser lords with whom he was only slightly acquainted, having spent most of his time in the Prince's company rather than in that of his peers. He smiled in an open and friendly manner, but no one returned his genial gesture, they merely nodded curtly and kept their eyes directed straight ahead. Said he at last, "what do each of you hope to find upon this Way?"

They ignored him, as he wasn't speaking to anyone in particular; he wasn't sure what was the source of their antipathy or disinterest, but he was determined to find out. Erian drew immediately alongside the nearest lordling and Bayard said insistently, "so what do you hope to accomplish upon such a journey?"

"I'm bored silly at home," replied he, "this at least sounds like an adventure, though Tyne would not be one of my chosen companions in any other circumstance."

"Fair enough," said Bayard brightly, turning his attention to the boy on his other side, "and what of you?"

"I don't want to be here," groused he, "but Tyne promised to carry tales to my father if I didn't come, and I'd rather walk this path than deal with my irate sire."

"And you?" said Bayard, falling back to ride alongside the third lad.

"There is said to be some great treasure at the End of this Road," said he abashedly, eyeing his companions uneasily, as if he feared their scorn, "and I am determined to find it, even if I must accompany such indifferent companions."

"Do you seek the Prize or the Prize Giver?" asked Bayard quietly.

"I had never considered that," said Kipril quietly, "but I believe that will make all the difference upon this strange Way, and most especially beyond it! Thank you, I have much to mull over." Bayard bowed cordially in his saddle and lagged behind the others, for none seemed interested in further conversation at the moment and he had much to think over himself. He wished he could speak with Erian, but their present company did not permit it, lest things grow awkward indeed! The Pegassi seemed to understand, as he turned his elegant head and winked one great eye as he looked over his shoulder. Bayard smiled brightly in reply.

About midmorning, Tyne drew rein and declared they'd rest for a few hours before continuing on that afternoon. The weary lordlings, still clad in their festive best, gratefully dismounted and nearly collapsed beside the nearest tree. Bayard dismounted more slowly, his attention caught by his strangely bulging saddlebags. He smiled eagerly as he began to dig through them, finding the requisite supplies and food necessary for such a journey, enough for all of them! He was about to approach Tyne and tell of his discovery, but the boy was deep in conversation with a real witch.

A shudder ran down the boy's spine as he said quietly to Erian, "Tyne is in conference with the sorceress we fell afoul of at the very beginning of our own journey."

"But she can no longer ply her vile trade upon the Road?" asked Erian concernedly.

"She can still entice men off the Road to enact her fell schemes," replied Bayard grimly, "and it seems Tyne is very interested in what she has to offer." While the others dozed and Tyne schemed with the hag, Bayard busied himself with their miraculously provided provender, dividing and repacking it for each member of the little company.

As Tyne finished his business with the witch, they exchanged a malicious smile and she made her way towards the balance of the company. She gave Bayard a terrible, cruel smile but said nothing as she passed, instead crouching to speak to the young man who was afraid Tyne would carry tales to his father. At first he was repulsed by her impudence, but very soon he was smiling and nodding eagerly at whatever lies she told him.

"Can you do nothing?" asked Erian.

Bayard shook his head sadly, "it is his choice, my interference would likely only make things worse."

At last the boy nodded excitedly and leapt to his feet, certain he had found his chance to escape this dread path as well as to make his fortune. "I wonder what they are up to?" mused Erian, his ears flicking back and forth in agitation. As the pair vanished from the Road, suddenly Bayard screamed, collapsing into darkness and agony, much as the Prince had done upon their previous foray. When he awoke, the world was a strange place indeed, at least to the foreign senses that now assaulted his waking mind. While his sight was significantly changed, his senses of hearing and smell were overwhelming in their intensity; he whimpered in dismay and looked up into the gloating countenance of Tyne.

"Let's get moving," triumphed Tyne, "we've rested long enough, on your feet dog!"

Bayard whined his misery but darted to his feet and obediently trotted alongside Erian, who whinnied his concern and dropped his great head down to nuzzle the scandalous looking cur, his tongue lolled happily out one side of his mouth while one ear stood upright and the other flopped rakishly to one side. He yipped his appreciation as they set companionably off, their wide-eyed companions exchanging an uneasy look but daring to say nothing where Tyne might hear.

But Tyne was in nowise silent, indeed, he took great delight in taunting their accursed guide, "now you know your place, cur! You can guide the party but no longer usurp the rightful place of your betters. It was quite fortunate that witch was more than willing to work her fell magics for nothing, eager for revenge as she was. A pity you can't tell me the tale, but then who cares about the antics of such a wretch?"

Bayard growled under his breath but otherwise didn't oblige the taunting lordling with a reply; Erian tossed his head and screamed his disapprobation at such rudeness to his friend. Tyne frowned at the horse but said to the dog, "the wretched creature acts almost as if he has a mind of his own! He even accompanies us of his own accord, whereas we have to lead the spare beast that once belonged to our unfortunate companion." He laughed darkly, "I wonder how many empty saddles we'll have before we reach the End?" His companions shuddered at this but dared not speak.

At last the day wearied away into night and they stopped in a little glade alongside the Road and made their uneasy camp. Tyne was soon enough asleep while the others drew aside to speak quietly amongst themselves, though Bayard could only cock his head and listen, save an occasional whimper, growl, or bark of a comment.

"What has he done?" asked Kipril of the dog, a long sad whine was his only reply.

"What came of Ithor," asked the other, the dog gave a morose howl that raised the hair on the back of their necks.

"Can we not escape such a fiend?" asked Kipril. Bayard bounded to his feet and ran in happy circles.

Interpreted Erian, much astonishing the two boys, but what was another shock on this already shocking day?, "it is the nature of the Road that two can walk upon it at the same place and time without encountering one another, if you wish to escape this fiendish youth, by all means, leave now and he'll never catch you."

"What are we waiting for?" asked the adventurous youth.

Said Kipril quietly, "I know it sounds insane, suicidal even, but I pity the poor boy. What if there was something I could do for him, that my influence might draw him back from this path whose end leads only to eternal night?"

The boy sat morosely but gazed at his companion pensively, "what do you know that I don't?"

Kipril smiled eagerly, "would you hear a few tales of this Road and its Master?" The dog barked excitedly as the young lord nodded his approval.

Come morning, neither of the young lords was any longer afraid of what strange end they might meet upon this Road, but both were hopeful they could somehow help Tyne find what they had each embraced with all his heart. The dog ran barking and yipping his joy all over the camp as they made ready to ride. Tyne snarled at the beast, "what has gotten into you?" Bayard only smiled at him, tongue hanging askew out of one corner of his doggy grin. He might have thrown something at the insolent beast, but Kipril didn't give him the chance.

Said the boy eagerly, "you must listen! Only disaster waits upon the Road and at its further end for those who don't believe..."

He never finished, for Tyne drew his sword to defend himself from the other's insolence and insanity, the boy slumped with a groan and moved no more. Tyne glared at his last human companion and growled, "are you equally a fool?" The boy blinked in horror, but then dashed off down the Road as fast as his legs could carry him, vanishing from sight as the Road shifted and carried him far away from the murderous youth. Bayard whined sadly and Tyne glared at him, "let's go!" The boy cleaned his sword, mounted his horse, and trotted off in a foul mood; Erian and the dog followed after, exchanging a curious but grim look, wondering why they felt they must continue to accompany the wretched youth, but knowing it their current duty.

The days passed slowly, Tyne withstood temptations and dangers and traps aplenty, for nothing would deter his intent to claim the Prize at the End of this terrible Road. Nothing bothered the Pegassi, even that weary land of rocks and heat that had once spelled his own doom. Bayard trotted along almost as indifferent, save the physical discomfort of their surroundings, but as he had no need to complete the Road once more, nothing was sent to test or try him, especially as his suffering would not touch Tyne's heart as it had wrung the Prince's. At last the rocky waste gave way to a wide land of rolling hills through which flowed a swift River as great mountains towered in the distance.

Erian sighed in happy wonder, "yonder lies Paradise and the hills of my homeland." He gazed brightly at the dog and said, "and yet you have never looked upon any of it?" Bayard barked his joyous agreement, taking in the scenery as no human tourist ever could!

Tyne sat his horse on a little hill that overlooked a bend in the River, surveying that wide land skeptically, for the Road ended abruptly and there seemed nowhere else to go, wondering what next was to be done. But there was Kipril come to greet them, a broad smile upon his face as he slid from the back of what could only be a disguised Pegassi. Bayard set to barking and running circles between the legs of the seeming horses and the neophyte Messenger, all smiling in delight at his antics.

"You've made it!" said Kipril happily.

"Finally!" snorted Erian in delighted amusement, "Though the boy has no need of the River, unless perhaps it will restore his human form?"

"That I know not," frowned Kipril slightly, "though I would think form and function would be restored when the River unmakes his mortal frame?"

The dog sat there, head cocked, listening intently to their conversation, seeming to enjoy Kipril's momentary ignorance as to his actual situation. The other Pegassi asked, "just what is going on?"

Kipril smiled and said, "this dog is actually a young man who was cursed by a witch upon the journey hither."

"But why does one of my kinsmen travel in company with him?" persisted the stallion, "And why does he insist the River will not avail him?"

Bayard barked excitedly as Erian tossed his head in amusement, saying, "because he's already a Messenger, if one in quite an awkward predicament." He then went on to explain their various adventures thus far, much astonishing their companions.

Kipril shook his head in wonder, "well that explains much, but come my friend, into the River with you. If nothing else, I believe it is time you had a proper bath!" The dog barked eagerly and went plunging into the water, but nothing happened, save a thorough wetting. He trotted back to the little company and whined his disappointment, but just then Tyne approached, wondering who the stranger was and if he knew what next was to be done.

He started when he recognized the murdered Kipril, but he wouldn't give up even in the presence of this ghost, demanded he, "where is this vaunted Prize? I have completed the Road and demand my reward! I see nothing here but a desert and a bottomless abyss!"

Bayard growled at the insolent youth, but Kipril was far more polite, "there is nothing here for an unfaithful heart. You must be faithful to the Road's Master, not the Road itself! Go home and rethink your life, then perhaps you can tread this Path in a worthy manner."

"I will have my Reward!" snarled Tyne, drawing his sword and threatening the unimpressed Messenger, "Give it me!"

"That will accomplish nothing, boy," said a familiar fiendish voice, "these ghosts are harmless to mortal men and their noisome blathering can only be silenced by those skilled in such things." The fiend launched a ball of black fire that reduced Kipril to nothingness; his Pegassi screamed his fury, reared, and vanished in a flurry of bright wings. "Now what of your strange companions?" persisted the fiend, "I'm looking for someone but can't seem to find him amongst mortal men."

Tyne snorted in derision, "he was a boy, but he makes a far better dog!"

"You have a mind congenial to my own and I would have you find the power due such cunning," hissed the fiend, "you can do so much more than play such silly tricks on those who annoy or importune you! This Road has availed you nothing, will you see what I have to offer?"

"Gladly," smiled Tyne like imminent death.

"But first," snarled the monster, "I want my knife back!"

Bayard growled at the thing while Erian screamed his fury, unveiling his radiant form and rearing in protest, but the unimpressed wraith merely ignored the irate Pegassi and launched a ball of red fire at the dog, reducing him instantly to charred bone and the stench of burned hair. Erian vanished in pursuit of his master, leaving the villains alone upon that desolate shore, at least to their perception. They exchanged a horrid smile and vanished in a flash of darkness.

Bayard sighed in relief as the River instantly quenched his flaming being, and just allowed it to bear him whither it would for some minutes, like some leaf borne upon its flood, for he had never felt its joyous embrace as anything but a mortal dog, but now he was a Messenger in every aspect of the word. Erian met him with an exuberant scream of welcome as he washed ashore and they were lost for another few minutes in happy greetings. And there stood Kipril, his grin as bright as an unveiled Pegassi in his delight.

"I suppose we must return to that rather eventful little ball?" said Bayard.

"Duty calls," agreed Kipril, "though I had hoped we had escaped such banalities with our new occupation."

"This will be my third visit to that same gala since joining the Messengers!" laughed Bayard, "So I am afraid that is far from the case."

"Let's get it over with then," said Kipril in feigned grimness, before all burst out laughing and they vanished in a flutter of bright wings.

They reappeared as if they had never left, save Tyne and their two former companions were noticeably absent. Asked Kipril of Bayard, "what of the Prince?"

Bayard grinned eagerly, "he and his questionable lady are both comrades."

"Excellent," said Kipril happily, but he frowned slightly, "though I suppose having four Messengers present does not bode well for the balance of the ball?"

"Make that five," said Tyrin, attaching himself to their conversation and sharing a broad smile with Bayard, who said, grinning like an imp, "may I introduce the questionable lady's brother?"

"This is becoming quite the scandal," laughed Kipril, "it seems bad company truly does corrupt good morals." He eyed Bayard jubilantly, "thank you, my friend!"

"No," said Bayard joyously, "thank Him!"

"Now what are we up to besides watching my sister dance?" asked Tyrin, "While I am sure you love nothing more than watching other people dance, I've never developed a taste for it."

"It's a living," chuckled Bayard, "but that will be one nice change about my new occupation." He sobered suddenly as all attention was drawn to the Crown Prince's entrance with as novel a lady upon his arm as appeared at the side of his youngest brother, but everyone was entranced with the lovely and graceful creature whereas they were disgusted with the complete lack of taste and propriety attending Kaya's temerity and Ithril's toleration thereof. Said Bayard quietly to his friends, "I believe I may dance myself!"

After the couple had been presented to the Royal Parents and made the proper courtesies, before the Prince could ask for the first dance, Bayard swooped in like a rogue falcon and swept the astonished lady off into the swirling dancers, the Prince's countenance was growing dark indeed and his hand reaching for his sword, but Kaya abandoned his brother and likewise swept him away with the eddying crowd, so perplexing him that he could in nowise act upon his wrath.

The lady frowned perplexedly at Bayard as he grinned in impish boldness in return, "milady?" queried he.

"What are you about, sir?" said she in surprise, "Are you trying to reap the Prince's wrath?"

"I little fear his vengeance, milady," said the mischievous boy brightly, and she could not help but liking him the more for it, "it is rather worser things I wish to importune by stealing a dance."

"Worser things?" frowned she, "Some scheming lordling perhaps?"

"Hardly," laughed he, "what have you to fear from mortal schemes?"

"Quite," said she pensively, "but how could you know that? And what can you do to counter any plot originating from beyond your native sphere?"

"I little know, milady," said he, "I only know what I must, when I must, as at this moment it is my duty to grace the floor with you."

"A duty, am I?" said she quizzically.

"Yes, but also a pleasure!" smiled he, "For the two sometimes coincide, as in this instance."

"Very well," said she with a slight, amused smile, "but do you know how very close you came to suddenly having water instead of blood flowing through your veins?"

"Your revenge, though well justified, could little avail you, milady," grinned he despite her dread prognostications, "for the very same reason I dare flout all propriety and risk the King's wrath and can meddle in things beyond mortal ken."

"You puzzle me exceedingly," said she, a glint of mirth shining in her bright eyes.

"As I still puzzle myself," grinned he, "so it is not to be wondered at." Sobering, he asked, "now what is your tale, milady? How come you to be here, what is your interest in our Prince and his realm? Why trouble yourself with a mere mortal and likewise risk the antipathy of your own folk?"

"What do you know?" said she in surprise.

"Very little," replied he candidly, "though I can guess some of it. I know you are not of the mortal race, and your comments about my own potential doom hint at your heritage, but I would not dare to assume where the truth might be discovered by asking."

"You are quite polite for such an impudent fellow," laughed she as all the morning stars together, "so I shall tell you, just to keep you from assuming wrongly."

"Your Prince happened upon me in a most dire situation and he saved me therefrom, as all the fairy tales say he must," said she, "hence I consented to meet his family and people that we might see what comes of it. I may perhaps consent to be his bride, but first I would know more of him and his people as he must learn more of me and mine."

Bayard nodded happily, "most excellent milady, for though there is something nefarious in all this, I see it is not you..." He could not continue, for at that moment a vile blade pierced him through, but before he vanished in a brilliant flash, he likewise sent the lady away by a similar means. The room was in uproar as a half dozen shadowy, cloaked fiends invaded the once jolly celebration, but no sooner had they appeared and smote Bayard, than the Pegassi appeared likewise, Bayard aback Erian and his comrades instantly in their own saddles. The ebb and flow of the panic-stricken revelers did not impede these dread warriors from beyond time and space, any more than a breath of wind might interfere with a duel between mortal swordsmen. At last the shadowy creatures were overcome and the Pegassi vanished, but not before fetching back their errant riders and a certain mysterious lady.

As the madness subsided, so too did the chaos amongst the once merry attendees, each wondering if they had personally gone mad or if the world had, but as it seemed the fit, whatever it had been, was over, they resumed their previous activities, some trying to forget in the pursuit of activity or drink, others laughing at themselves, and a few lost to a thoughtful silence. Bayard was again dancing with his original partner, grinning like the sun upon a spring morning, she thoughtful and silent. At last she asked, "what was that?"

He grinned the more, "did I not mention nefariousness and worser things?"

"You were pierced through!" protested she, "And such magic!"

"Not magic, milady," said he quietly, joy brimming beneath his sober expression, "my Master's power, did I not say your own curse would little avail you and that I felt inclined to meddle in other than mortal affairs? I have walked the Road and seen what lies beyond it!"

She frowned slightly at him, "you said you were also a riddle to yourself?"

"Aye milady," said he, that smile enigmatic indeed, "I am very new at all of this and little comprehend the world I have entered."

"But I see you are no nefarious villain intent on harming this Kingdom or people any more than I," said she with a smiling nod.

"That the Enemy is willing to go to such efforts to prevent your involvement therewith," said Bayard, "says much for your own aspirations and good intentions!"

"How so?" asked she.

"Such a revelation of his minions and powers may shock this sleepy Kingdom into reconsidering the Greater Things, what many think are just stories or myth, but which is Truth itself and the very purpose of life," grinned Bayard widely.

"I too must consider these things," mused she, "myth that I am!"

"Even so milady," bowed the boy courteously, as he offered her hand back to the Crown Prince. He smiled rakishly at the flummoxed royal scion, and said in parting, "thank you for the dance, Sire, please forgive my importunity but it was quite necessary."

"Indeed," was all the stymied Prince could say, as his lady swept him off into the swirling mass of dancers, laughing like a brook in flood at his complete and utter astonishment, but soon whispering quietly and fervently to him, his consternation soon turning to thoughtful attention.

Bayard found himself now entertaining the Prince's bold partner, as Kaya drew his attention back to herself as they kept time with the music and movement about them, "now that was fun!"

Bayard grinned broadly, "indeed, I have never enjoyed a royal function quite so much!"

"It was almost as much fun as dancing with a real prince," teased she.

"An aspiration I will never fulfill," laughed he, "neither wanting to dance with one myself and being only the minion and henchmen thereof and unable to do such a service to another."

"You're lucky you didn't lose your head or have a duel to fight," said she.

"Thanks to you," smiled he wryly, "though you failed utterly in keeping me from being slain by one of those grim fiends."

She shrugged indifferently, "but it was a heroic death, having saved the lady as you did, I thought that was your greatest aspiration, not being saved from pain and death by the meddling of an overbold peasant girl?"

"Quite!" laughed he merrily, and as the set ended, they withdrew to the side with everyone else as the next set organized itself out of the chaos.

They found themselves swept off to a quiet corner with the Crown Prince, his lady, and youngest brother, where they stood exchanging awkward, anxious, bewildered, and amused grins for a long moment, but at last the Crown Prince said, "just what happened?" He eyed Bayard grimly, "you almost earned yourself a duel or a traitor's death for your impudence!" But his expression and tone softened as he added, "but I saw what followed, how?" He eyed his brother and Kaya speculatively, "and I saw what each of you did when those things invaded!" He gazed upon his lady and smiled ruefully, "and my companion insists that it was all for the best and I should be grateful rather than furious, but how?"

"Orders," grinned the erstwhile Prince at his perplexed brother, but he added far more seriously, "as your lady has expanded your horizons beyond the world of mortal men, so too have we embarked upon a journey beyond all we once knew and loved, we may be called upon to protect it, but we can no longer have a place therein."

"The Road?" said the Prince in surprise, "Can that old tale be true?"

"Among others," smiled Kaya brightly, before they each bowed low and suddenly vanished from his perception, leaving him to gape openly while his lady smiled in delight at their antics.

Coming

"He's coming!" said one distraught village boy to the other.

"I thought that's what we had hoped would happen?" said his friend in confusion.

"I know," replied the first, "but now that it's really happening, I'm not sure it was such a brilliant idea after all."

"But we could be rich!" protested his still mystified companion.

"But what if we're wrong?" said the first plaintively, "They've been hunting these villains for years and years. We're just two clueless kids from the hinterlands, what do we actually know or understand of these things? And what sort of people would be sent to deal with such terrors and what might they do to those who have wasted their precious time?" As this sudden realization sunk in, his friend's eyes grew wide in doubt and fear, what if they were wrong?

The Prince, if the third of his father's five sons, sat at the desk in his sitting room, theoretically going over the stack of notes and papers and maps before him, but in truth staring unseeing out the window, his mind wandering again in former years, trying to decipher the riddle that had puzzled him for the past ten years. He had been but a lad of eight, staying with some noble country relative upon an extended family visit to his mother's kin. The men and older boys had ventured off on a hunting foray into the surrounding wildwood that was to last several days while the ladies had all gone off to visit yet another relative, this an aging female recluse, during their absence, leaving the younger children in the charge of their nurses, the servants, and one quite elderly uncle.

Ithril was the eldest of the children thus abandoned and he was far from pleased about it. While his younger siblings and cousins could still be easily distracted by their various caretakers, he greatly resented being relegated to the nursery while all the other men got to go off and have a grand adventure. But perhaps all was not lost, for his nurse suddenly took ill with the toothache, leaving him in the indifferent care of his uncle's servants, who felt they had far more important things to be about than minding a royal brat, and as each thought he was certainly in the care of another, the boy soon found himself very much on his own.

As he was certainly someone else's problem for the day, there was no one to scold him to wash or eat or nap or otherwise stay out of trouble, so it was he did very much as he pleased, eating when he was hungry, sleeping when he was tired, wandering whither he would. But as day faded into night, he began to feel rather lonesome and forgotten, cold and tired. He had enjoyed his freedom for the day, but was quite ready to cuddle beneath his blankets and fall asleep to nurse telling some old tale from forgotten days, but suddenly his childish pride asserted itself, for was that not the very thing to be expected of a child? Had his elders not treated him just so? But had he not proved himself a man today? Why wasn't he out having an adventure like the rest of the men? In his fury he pushed away this very comfortable desire and scampered out into the night dark gardens to find himself an adventure.

But there was no adventure to be had, unless chasing moths and firebugs was to be considered such. But he had decided he was a child no longer and must put such childish delights behind him. Instead, he thought upon his previous ramblings through the vast enclosure, suddenly remembering a rather tall tree abutting a low place in the wall. He smiled with impish joy and dashed off to make good his escape from his cloistered and unexciting life. So did he wander in the dark, lost in a vast wood with neither light nor food nor friend, but this was an adventure, so at first he did not notice, so drunk was he with freedom and looming excitement. But soon, he was stumbling in weariness and cold and hunger, the eerie shadows cast by the moon and wind tossed branches unsettled further his already excited sensibilities, making him jump at the least noise, be it only an owl or a stick breaking under his boot.

At last he could go no further, collapsing in a sobbing heap, and wishing more than ever for his nurse and bed or even a little candle, anything to assuage the loneliness and dark and cold and bitterness of this horrid, endless night. As if in echo of his own misery, a voice, wretched and cold, scoffed out of the night, "are we lost little prince?" It laughed horribly but he would not, could not look at it, instead he crouched further into the vegetation in which he had taken shelter for the night, hoping it would hide him from this cruel and terrible thing, but knowing it was vain.

Then there came a terrible light, the clash of weapons, a hideous shriek and a flash of darkness, and then an unnatural silence, as if the very world held its breath in anticipation, perhaps of worser things to come. But then the noises that had accompanied him upon his entire weary way resumed the ancient rhythms of the night and his heart began to beat once more. He took a deep breath, and then another, but nothing happened that was not familiar to a woodland summer night. At last he dared to look around and nearly screamed to discover he was not alone, but it wasn't whatever fell thing had spoken out of the shadows and cast that awful radiance, rather it was nothing but the gardener, silent and patient, as if awaiting his Majesty's pleasure at court, rather than standing beside a terrified child somewhere in a night dark wildwood.

"Come lad," said he, "it is past time ye were abed."

At this homely, warm voice, the boy bolted to his feet in exuberant delight, took the man's hand, and allowed himself to be led home, where he was fed, had a warm bath, and then was tucked into bed with a glorious candle to drive away the night shadows. "Now," said the grizzled old man, as he adjusted the covers in preparation to leave, "not a word of this to anyone, agreed?"

"Yes," said the sleepy boy with a yawn, "but why not tell my father that I might be properly punished?"

"Ye've been punished enough lad," said the man gently, "and I do believe ye've learned yer lesson?"

"Certainly," said the boy, "but what happened?" The man only smiled like the most mysterious cat in the world and left the room.

Prince Ithril was determined to discover the truth of that night and had spent most of his adult life in pursuit of just that, but to no avail. He sighed heavily as he turned over one of the pages before him, he had perused each document in the stack so many times that he had them all memorized, but nothing ever came of it. Perhaps it was time to put such childish desires behind him and move on with his life? Perhaps it had all been nothing more than his overexcited imagination playing tricks on him?

Just then Page burst into the room, all excitement, "Highness, Highness!" he cried, holding a just opened letter in his hand.

The hitherto dejected princeling leapt to his feet and raced to his friend's side, knowing this particular missive was the one he had long been hoping for. His smiling friend handed him the letter and watched eagerly as Ithril's countenance went from hopeful curiosity, to intent study, to one of pure delight. Said the Prince eagerly to his friend and only henchman, "you'd best be on your way!"

"I've already ordered my horse and provisions for the journey and sent a messenger with an answer," said the boy delightedly, "to think we may find answers at last!"

"Just send word the moment you learn anything significant," said the Prince eagerly.

"Certainly Sire," grinned the noble youth like the new risen sun, "else you'd call for my head, and deservedly so."

"Off with you," said the Prince, "the sooner to send word that I might join you!" With a bow and another delighted smile, Page dashed off in hopes of an adventure at last. Ithril returned to his papers, mulling over the letter and a map of the area in question, wondering if they would find answers at last.

The pair of uneasy village lads was quite taken aback to discover that the man whose advent they had been dreading in the days since word had come that he was en route was nothing more sinister than a boy their own age, albeit of noble birth and mien, but still a boy for all of that. He was in nowise dreadful, being neither conceited nor cruel, but rather was all eagerness to make their acquaintance and hear their tale. They seated themselves at a table in the back of the abandoned inn, their noble visitor the only excuse that might spare them from their usual chores, and his insistence that he meet with the boys alone all that kept the entire village from listening in, but none would dare gainsay such a noble, dare they say royal, visitor? And what could he have to do with such unseemly scamps as the pair of lads he had chosen to interrogate? As they sat and discussed the boys' sightings, without the gossip ran wild indeed, making the lads' tale a thing quite bland by comparison.

It had begun on a stormy night in a forsaken old ruin a short walk from the village, wherein the boys had determined to spend the night, thinking themselves quite brave and heroic for their efforts while their mothers smiled in amusement and their fathers shook their heads, forgetting they themselves had ever been boys. But it had not been raining when they left home, adventure bent, rather it was a glorious day of early summer and they were well equipped for their harrowing night, indeed, their mothers had seen to it that they might well survive a fortnight on their own in a perilous wilderness, but as neither father would allow them the use of a pack horse, they had to content themselves with what the lads could carry, thus if they lost themselves for a month or more, they might very well perish. But they set out, their steps as light as their provisions would allow, in the sheer exuberance of youth and high adventure.

It was a merry, if unexciting day, as the lads made themselves at home, set up camp, and explored again all the nooks and crannies and surrounding woods of that ancient ruin. As night gathered about them, they settled in for what must be a grand adventure, for who had ever thought to spend an entire night in an undoubtedly haunted fortress? Little realizing that almost every lad to inhabit that particular village had done the same since time out of mind, they sat silently, watching the night, waiting for the adventure to begin.

They drifted in and out of sleep but were determined that they would stay awake, the night passed pleasantly, at least for the first few hours, but then a horrid crash of thunder and a shocking flash of lightning rent the night and wakened them both from a sound sleep. The wind lashed the rain into a frenzy as the trees danced about as if they were mad; the boys huddled under a little ledge, all the protection they could find, and waited for the tempest to blow itself out, but the elements were not the only force that raged in that utterly black night, broken only by the lightning, for some of those flashes were not the result of the storm.

As if the storm itself was not excitement enough, that either might recount the tale to his children's children time and again down through the years, here was something else to wonder at. As the heavens seemed to roil in alternating darkness and light, so too did a pair of men, if men they were, as their swords repeatedly met in the very center of the ruin. Where the pair had come from or for how long they had been embattled in the heart of the storm, neither boy could say, but as they cowered away from the storm's wrath, their eyes were inexplicably drawn to the interminable battle that seemed oblivious to the fury of the night about them. Each struck and blocked and counterthrusted, over and over again, and upon each meeting of blade against blade, it seemed lightning flared forth from one and darkness from the other. At last, one struck the other, and he vanished with a burst of utter night.

The victor glanced about himself quickly, smiled ruefully at his sudden sense of being watched, sheathed his blade, and hastened from that place under cover of the tattered remnants of the storm. Little knowing what they did, the boys left their hiding place and followed the man at a distance, they crouched in the vegetation upon the edge of the wood as he mounted his horse and galloped into the night. There was no telling who the man was, between the darkness and the distance, but that horse was well known to everyone in the district. The pair exchanged a wondering look and hastened back to their campsite, ill at ease until dawn crept back into the world that they might return home and look further into the matter.

On their walk home, they took a slightly different route to ensure they passed the little farmstead where a certain horse was wont to lurk. There he was, a brilliant white stallion with his arching neck and elegant head prancing about his paddock as proudly as if his domain were the King's personal stable rather than that of a no-name bachelor farmer at the backend of forever, a strange sight in a place where a rangy sorrel gelding might be considered flashy. The horse whickered in greeting and trotted up as the lads approached the fence that bordered one side of the lane, but they saw nothing but the dull curiosity of one of the brighter of the dumb beasts, no creature out of myth or legend as they had thought him the night before.

"If only you could talk," sighed Bayard wistfully, "what tales you might tell!" The horse nickered his concurrence as they patted his nose and continued on their way. What could they do but approach the man himself, something they were loath to do after the display of the previous night. What if he did to them what he did to that other fellow?

"Wait!" said Kipril eagerly, "What about that old notice in your father's office?"

Bayard's eyes narrowed in thought, his father was the local magistrate and he received and posted copies of all the wanted men in the district, both by the local authorities and the King. One such had served as a source of much curiosity and a spur to many vivid imaginings on the part of most of the village lads and not a few men old enough to know better. It was not a warrant for a particular person, as most were, but rather it sought information upon a particular phenomenon, thought to be associated with person or persons most vile, and if anyone was aware of such a phenomenon, he was immediately to contact the Prince's Agent and if his sightings were true, he could expect a reward for his trouble. Some might have laughed at such a strange and futile search, but it was signed by the Prince himself, so it must be quite serious, but what did it mean?

"You can't mean?!" said Bayard in wonder, but he was thinking the exact same thing.

"It must be," said Kipril eagerly, nearly dancing in his delight, "what else could it be?"

"We could be rich!" grinned Bayard.

"Let's do it," agreed Kipril, "even without the reward, I'd like to know what is going on." So it was the professionals were sent for, such as they were.

"That's quite the tale, lads," said Page eagerly, "and I have no doubt the Prince himself will be along shortly to investigate."

"Truly?!" said the lads together.

"Yes," nodded the young lord, "he had a very strange experience as a young boy and it has troubled him ever since. Despite our best efforts, this is the first evidence we've found in recent years. All else has been hearsay, legend, or happened in some old man's youth. If you'll loan me pen and ink, I'll send a letter off to the prince immediately so he can be fully involved in our investigation."

"Investigation!" said the lads in chorus, leaving Page to wonder idly if they might actually share a mind.

"Let us call it a hunting foray," cautioned the noble youth, "else tongues will wag no end over this matter and our quarry might take a fright ere we've confronted him. Have you told anyone else of your encounter?"

"No," said Bayard, "who would believe us?"

"Indeed," smiled Page knowingly, "many have been those who have questioned the Prince's own experience and hunt for such phenomena, though none would dare do it to his face and his royal parents are just happy he has something to occupy his time and energy that doesn't pose a threat to himself or the Kingdom. He can hunt ghosts or stags for all they care, whatever keeps him content and out of trouble must be a good thing."

The lads might be residents of the most outlying province in the Kingdom, but they weren't slow witted, not in the least. They quickly caught Page's meaning and the importance thereof and suited their own words and actions thereto. He smiled happily and quickly wrote his letter, sending the innkeeper's nephew off with the missive to the nearest outpost of the King's Errand Riders with explicit directions to get it to the Prince with all haste. "Now we wait," said Page, "for I dare not do anything until the Prince arrives, he would be sorely disappointed to miss any part of such an adventure. But in the interim, you can acquaint me with all the pertinent facts, geography, and people in your splendid little hamlet." They gave him an odd look, wondering how on earth he might find an overview of what they took to be the dullest place and people in the Kingdom, if not the world, useful or interesting. He smiled at their naiveté but persisted in his query. At last they gave in, figuring he wouldn't waste their time or his in such a venture, and offered to give him a tour of the place.

By the time the Prince arrived, Page wanted to be utterly familiar with all in and around the little hamlet, that they might actively delve deeper into these mysteries the moment his friend arrived rather than digging into the preliminaries and laying the groundwork needed to fully understand the enigma. It would also keep himself and his informants out of trouble, give them something to do, and allow time to pass far more quickly as they waited for the big day when they might begin in earnest. First he arranged with their parents that they might accompany and be of use to himself and his imminent master, who was eager for an extended hunting foray in the area. The lads were delighted to escape, at least temporarily, their usual chores and tedious labors and their parents were quite delighted at what this might mean for their sons' education and future.

Eventually the speculation and gossip did die down with a rational excuse as to the royal fellow's presence and interest in the young men, for who knew the surrounding woods better or had the energy to lead him on such a quest? The villagers were delighted to take his money, but even more excited to find him a man of good character, sound mind, and seemly manners. He would talk with anyone and everyone, was generous with his time and coin, and wasn't offended by their common ways despite his lordly upbringing. All in all, the villagers were quite happy with their visitor and entertained high hopes that this Prince was even better, especially the mothers with daughters of a marriageable age, for they knew his true quest even if he did not.

There were only a few people to whom the advent of this most intriguing personage in their midst was not a source of delight or interest. One was a village lad slightly older than Bayard and Kipril, the son of the richest man in town, who could not fathom why he had not been chosen rather than that pair of fools. There was also a rascally fellow that lived off by himself in the woods just outside of town, a renowned gossip, know-it-all, and critic of everything and everyone in the province, if not the Kingdom, but then he didn't like anybody so it was hardly surprising. And then there was the old recluse that kept the astonishing horse, but as he kept to himself and rarely bothered anyone, it seemed likely he would have no part in this story as he had no part in most of what happened in that sleepy little town; Page and his informants had other reasons for avoiding this mysterious personage and were glad he seemed happy to return the favor, at least until the Prince should arrive and they might delve deeper into the matter.

At last the Prince did indeed arrive, but not with the pomp the locals thought he must, for he didn't even bring a servant or a guard or anything, let alone a parade of such hangers-on and lackeys. But perhaps that would not be appropriate on a quiet hunting foray when his own man and a pair of local lads might well suffice, whatever the propriety of the situation, the locals were willing to believe and act however they must to accommodate such an import fellow for as long as he cared to grace them with his presence. Indeed, the village wished to celebrate his arrival with a grand festival, but tired and dirty as he was from travel, he merely glanced significantly at Page, who made his excuses and hustled his Majesty off to the inn where he might have a quiet bath and supper. Eager to please, the villagers merely moved the date of their welcome gala and returned to their interrupted errands, leaving the Prince as much to himself as was ever his wont, though he was quite eager to meet Page's informants and hear their tale for himself.

As they sat over supper, Page recounted the tale and all he had learned of the village, its people, and the surrounding area in the Prince's absence. The Prince then questioned their hitherto silent companions, who were rather amazed to discover that Princes, in general, seemed very like unto themselves, that they were as human as anyone else of their acquaintance, and with this realization, they relaxed significantly and told all they knew and even dared to ask a few of the many questions swirling in their own minds, whether or not they were related to the matter at hand. The Prince grinned delightedly and a lively conversation was had by all, ending only when Page insisted they all go to bed that they might be ready to delve into this enigma first thing in the morning.

"Ever he ruins my fun," sighed Ithril in good-natured ire, "but he does have the right of it. I must say it is delightful to be among folk who can forget that you are royalty and treat you like any other person for a little while." Only then did the village lads grin ruefully at their treatment of said Prince, for they had been gabbing back and forth as if he were nothing but another village lad of their acquaintance, but he was in nowise displeased with them, indeed, it was quite a relief to be merely a man for a time, rather than one nearly drowning in pomp and propriety, so much so that sometimes he wondered if he even knew who he was outside his royal trappings.

Said Page, interrupting what he knew would be a philosophical dilemma of vast proportions and like to keep the Prince up all night, "everyone off to bed and tomorrow we'll beard your dragon in his den, if dragon he be." With this sensible and exciting remark, none dared disobey, even his royal Highness dashed off to bed, the sooner to rise and be off upon what must be a rather grand adventure indeed. Tyne watched from a hidden corner, cramped and uncomfortable, but eager to know what they were up to and why they hadn't involved him from the start.

At a far too early, but previously agreed upon, hour, they gathered in the inn's stableyard, and once they had climbed into their saddles, the innkeeper, as previously arranged, handed each of them a small satchel of supplies that they might have their breakfast en route. With an eager grin from Page, and a yawn from his companions, they set off into the dawning, adventure bent. As staying horsed forced them into action and the nascent sun drove the chill from the air, they finally came to life, as if they were buds breaking forth into full bloom. At last the eager throng was in an appropriately adventurous mood, or so their impatient foes thought, for they could not strike until the iron was hot, as it were, too soon and their bleary eyed victims would have no chance to plunge into the depths of abject despair and that was no fun at all, so they must wait, but at last the moment was come.

"At least take the Prince," snarled one villain to the other as they crouched in ambush upon the way.

"Finally," hissed the other, "after years and years of waiting and nothing important to do!"

"Hush!" growled the first, "Do you want to attract attention?"

"It's a little too late for that, gentlemen," said the blandest looking man alive, foolishly interrupting what should be their great moment of triumph. For a moment all three were lost in a swirl of light and darkness, but the next, nothing remained to be seen of the debacle but a little crushed vegetation, but the little party passed on oblivious to the terrors they had just been spared.

There came a knock at the door, something that had not happened in all the long ages of the world, or at least as long as the house had stood there, for none ever paid a social call to this peculiar domicile, never having a reason to bother the crusty old bachelor that dwelt within or puttered about his little homestead, busy about the necessities of such an existence. Being sorely out of practice was the only reason that could possibly explain his slowness in opening the door, for none tarried for the King, neither should they keep his son waiting, but so he did. The dejected little host exchanged rueful grins and disappointed glances, preparatory to turning back the way they had come, defeated before they had even begun.

But before they could take even one step in retreat, the door opened and the blandest man alive stood there with a curious light in his eyes and a placid smile on his face, "come in lads," said he, "we've much to discuss." They exchanged a startled look, but it was in nowise disappointed, and hastened after their peculiar host. As he puttered about in the little kitchen, trying to scrape together a reputable bit of refreshment for his guests, said guests just glanced about the little cottage in wonder, as if two of them didn't live in almost an exact copy of the little domicile. They had expected strange glowing crystals, arcane books, peculiar weapons and artifacts aplenty, maybe even a live owl or a collection of human skulls atop the mantel, but there was nothing to be seen that might not be lurking in their grandmother's cottage or their own.

He grinned at their vast disappointment, especially as he began passing round the tea and what he hoped was edible toast, said he with a laugh, "I suppose you'd prefer stewed toads or a cup of viper venom to this pathetic repast?"

"Something like that," said Kipril, dismayed not to find their host a right villain but liking the man immensely despite this grievous lack.

"If you know why we are here," began the Prince, eyeing their host suspiciously, "why not try to evade or soothe our suspicions?"

The man blinked at this bold youth in wonder, "and why would I do that? You are not fools, neither am I, so it would be a rather ridiculous, not to mention futile, endeavor, especially when your lives are in very great danger."

Page sat forward in his seat, an eager but grim smile on his face, "now we are getting somewhere! Why waste your time and ours in pretending to be a gracious host when it would have been better if you had just threatened our lives from the first?"

"Do you really believe that?" grinned the man in perplexity.

"Well, no," said Page rather lamely, "you aren't at all like the portrait of the villain my friends' tales had inspired in my mind."

"And you Highness?" asked the man, with a knowing smile.

"Your voice and mien are all wrong," said the Prince in vast disappointment, "where is the loathing, the condescension, the scorn?"

The man shook his head, "why are you disappointed? I may not be the villain you've been chasing, but I did say your lives were in danger, did I not? Your efforts have not been vain, they've just been misguided. What made you think I might be your villain?"

The Prince brooded in pensive silence for a moment and then replied, "when I was a child, I lost myself in a wood and heard an awful voice, I hid my eyes from the fiend, but still there came a terrible light and then utter darkness, and nothing more. I have ever thought that dreadful light had something to do with the villain, and was determined to track down such a fiend with that being my only clue. Now you say I am quite mistaken?"

"What do you think came of the villain?" queried the man, "Why did he not finish you then and there or do worse?"

"There was also a hideous shriek," said the Prince, "as if something had happened to the fiend himself, either to pain or frustrate him, and then he was gone!" He grinned in wonder, "it was the Light that drove off the Darkness, rather than being complicit with it!"

"Precisely," agreed the man, "as I am not threatening your lives now but rather warning you that for whatever reason, fiends of the same nature are intent on finishing what that villain from your childhood thought to begin."

"How did you know we were suspicious that you are not what you appear to be?" queried Bayard.

The man laughed, "did you not tell a certain horse just that?"

Kipril groaned, "he really can talk!"

Said the man quite seriously, "and for all your sakes, that is a very good thing, else I might not have known of your precarious situation until it was too late."

"So what do these fiends want with us?" asked Page, returning to the matter at hand.

"I don't know," said the man, "they particularly want the Prince, but what interest or plans they might have or why they want you at all, I know not. A chance to make mischief in the royal family would be irresistible to them, but then they delight in murder and chaos in whatever manner they can achieve it, even be it murdering a lost child in a pathless wood on a starless night."

"What shall we do?" asked the Prince, "If I return home, will that suffice?"

"I doubt it," said the man grimly, "once these fell creatures have determined to use you or destroy you, there is no escape. They never give up, no matter how many times they fail. They cannot be destroyed, merely momentarily vanquished. They can hide in plain sight, they twist words and hearts, they need neither sleep nor food, and are possessed of a deadly array of spells, weapons, and cunning against which no mortal man can long defend."

"Can't you do something about these creatures then?" demanded Page, "Is it as truly hopeless as you portray?"

"I can drive them off for a little while," said the man quietly, "but I cannot ward you your entire lives, neither am I guaranteed to be successful in every attempt. They can vanquish me as easily as I can thwart them."

"So we're doomed," said Kipril morosely, "had we but stayed home that night!"

"I did not say that," said the man, quietly but with eager joy barely contained beneath the surface, "if you continue as you have begun, yes the fiends will eventually have their way with you, be it tomorrow or a year hence, but do not regret either your midnight foray or bringing your noble companions into the adventure, for nothing in this matter is coincidence."

"The way he's grinning," said Page quietly to the Prince, "either means he's mad or we're about to have the adventure of our lives."

"I fear it's both," said Bayard, but not uneagerly, not in the least.

Suddenly each caught the man's enthusiasm, exchanging equally mad and eager smiles with one another before glancing back at their hopefully sane host. Said he, reining in his mad grin to something nearer sanity, "I see you are all beginning to anticipate what is to come, and you won't be disappointed, not in the least, though parts of it will try you sorely or grievously wring your heart."

"Have we no other option?" asked Kipril with a frown.

"There are but two doors you can take," said the man quietly, opening the front door of his cottage to reveal a completely different vista than the one that had been there when they entered. Going to the backdoor, he did the same, but the scene was certainly the usual view of the countryside around their familiar village, the same as it had ever been, not a window upon a strange land as they had momentarily hoped.

"And those two doors are?" asked Page, once he had regained use of his tongue at the wonder of seeing two very different landscapes so very close to where he currently sat.

The man tried, he tried valiantly, but he could not suppress that anticipatory smile, and it elicited a replica on each countenance there present. He nodded to the backdoor and said grimly, "death," and then towards the front, his smile unleashed, "or the Road."

The boys were on their feet in a moment, each trying to ask questions or utter their protests one atop the other, noble and peasant both. He shut the doors, passed around the tea, and resumed his seat, forcing his excited guests to do likewise. Said he with a grin, "easy lads, we have all the time in the world and beyond it here. There is no rush, no danger, no coercion or ignorance, merely wisdom and courage and faith. I'll answer any and all questions, at least those I am allowed to answer, and you can each content yourselves as to your choices in this matter. I know I sound like a teller of old tales, but isn't that what you came here seeking?"

Bayard was about to say something silly about not looking for fairy tales but rather the truth behind them, when Page forestalled him, thus saving him from himself, as he said, "we did indeed come seeking something out of those old tales but I dare say we hardly imagined we'd find ourselves swept up in such tales likewise."

"Purely a scientific study, eh?" said the man, all smile, "But do you not yet realize that you can't dabble in the old tales without risking being drawn in yourself?"

"Consider the lesson well learned," said the Prince, "but it seems it will do us little good, for we cannot go back and apply it to our old lives."

"Nay lad," said the man quietly, "you must either delve deeper into the tale you've set yourself or see what waits beyond this story we call life entirely."

"The Road," said Bayard at last, after he had had a moment to formulate a cogent question after his last near disaster, "isn't it certain death to tread it?"

"It's dangerous," said the man, "certainly, but far less than the four of you riding back to the inn for supper. It shouldn't be trodden lightly nor in ignorance, but that won't be the case with you, at least if I can help it."

"Some great treasure is said to lie at its end," said Page quietly, but adding with a knowing grin, "but I suppose you cannot tell us what?"

"Right you are lad," chuckled the man, "but it isn't gold or gems, I can tell you that much but it is certainly worth the effort."

"What will we find upon it?" queried Kipril.

"Many an excuse to abandon it," said the man bluntly, "and what that will be is unique to the individual."

"It certainly sounds like an adventure," said Bayard hopefully, at which the man laughed like joy itself, saying, "nay lad, it is but the beginning of your adventures, whether you survive the Road or not, or even if you never tread it, at least if you believe the rest of the tales associated therewith."

At this, each thought to feel rather awkward or ashamed, as if this man was waiting for them to reveal their heart of hearts only to pounce upon them with his scorn, but it was only a momentary doubt, a fleeting fear, for he waited patiently for their answer or their silence, whichever they preferred, saying only, "though I would be loath to loose you either upon the Road or the waking world if you had such doubts."

The Prince led boldly, as a proper King and General ought, "my nurse was quite adamant in both her faith and her stories, and after my encounter in the darkness, I could see it as naught but a miracle and I have spent my life in search of yet another."

Page grinned broadly, "I could in nowise have spent my days in such company or attending to such errands did I not fully agree that there must be some point or sense in it."

Bayard shook his head in wonder, smiling ruefully he added, "I suppose if you royal types can be so bold, even we..." He trailed off in surprise as there came a sudden pounding upon the door. The man smiled wryly, shrugged, and went to answer the summons.

But it wasn't a shadowy villain, draped in dark robes and spitting blasphemous insults, rather it was just another dusty village lad, who barged in without even asking leave of their rather amused host. Tyne seated himself at the table, glaring at all and sundry as their host resumed his seat and motioned for Bayard to finish his statement. Bayard blushed fiercely, feeling suddenly vulnerable under the eyes of the older, and certainly conceited, youth but he wasn't to be cowed in this matter by the village bully when worse certainly waited just outside that door, said he, "as I was saying, it is good to know you royal types won't be looking down upon the seeming ignorance of we village yokels, believing in fairy stories as we do." He stared at Tyne, daring the older boy to laugh, but he was too terrified to even speak.

Kipril frowned, "I've never known him to be speechless, especially when we are offering him such an easy target."

"What happened lad?" came the man's gentle query, as he offered the usually insolent youth a cup of fresh tea. The boy stared at it in wonder, took a sip, as if he'd never tasted the beverage before, frowned again at the man's kindness, gulped the entire cup down in one swallow, and then shook himself, as if trying to loosen his tongue from whatever threats or horrors bound it.

Said the boy at last, but it was little more than an uneasy whisper, "they said they'll do horrible things to us all if these four don't come out immediately. I don't know what they've done to incur the wrath of such fiends, but they had better surrender themselves or the whole village will die in agony."

"Well lads?" asked the man.

"Have we the time?" asked Page, "Far be it from me to tarry upon the Road when the lives of so many are at stake."

The man shook his head, "Time is of little consequence, either in this house or upon the Road, you'll have time enough and more, lads, if that be your choice. It seems the answer to your dilemma is before you, but you must decide to act upon it."

"I don't think we have any choice," said the Prince.

"I'm going with," said Tyne, "whatever mad adventure you are proposing."

Bayard blurted out, "but you laugh at all the old tales, you're doomed if you attempt the Road!"

"No more so than if I stay here," said he grimly, "I'm coming! If you four want to run away from your duty, I won't stay to endure the consequences."

Kipril frowned, "we aren't running away from anything; we're equipping ourselves to deal with this disaster." He grinned ruefully, "at least that's what we hope. In truth we have little idea what will come of us upon this strangest of all adventures."

"Justify it how ever you like," said Tyne with a knowing grin, "but it only makes sense to run when threatened with such overwhelming odds."

"You seriously think we'd willingly leave your folk to their fate if there was aught we could do to prevent it?" said Page in astonishment.

"You're only human," shrugged Tyne, "and who's judging? I'll be out that door right behind you!"

The four exchanged a wondering look with the man, who could only shake his head and smile grimly, saying, "well lads, I guess you had best be off unless there are any more questions?" They shook their heads, exchanged a last eager but grim smile, and marched out the front door, Tyne staring in wonder that it was not the same landscape he had so recently vacated. Said the man quietly in benediction, "may the Master go with you." With a final, wistful smile, he shut the door and it vanished from their perception, leaving them alone upon a winding byway that seemed to wend lazily through a pleasant hilly land with scattered groves of magnificent trees.

"Well that was certainly weird," said Tyne in wonder, "but at least we left those horrid fiendish things far behind."

"Just what do you have to do with all this?" queried Bayard.

"Yes," said the Prince with a frown, "out with it, you are no idle choice as a messenger."

"Well," sneered Tyne, "I never! That's gratitude! I save your lives and this is the thanks I get?" They all stared at him in stony silence, forcing him to look at his feet or glance idly about the countryside, as he said a little anxiously, "well, I suppose you ought to know. I wasn't well pleased when his royal highness here took up with the least of all men! I should have had my part in whatever your schemes from the start. So I spent a great deal of time watching you from a distance, trying to listen in, that sort of thing. While doing just that, that other old hermit in town, the ill-tempered one, caught me at it, but I think he was doing just that himself. Anyway, we agreed to work together and see what would come of it. But that was as far as we got in our scheming, until this very morning when he came dashing through the village as if he had a swarm of hornets on his tail. He saw me on the green, dashed over faster than thought, lifted me by the collar and snarled into my face, "you go tell those wretches that the whole village will die miserably for their sakes unless they surrender to me immediately!" He tossed me to the ground and I ran straight to that other hermit's house; I don't doubt the fellow can do as he threatens."

"Yes," said the Prince, "you have flown from danger into danger. We walk this Road because we must; you need not risk yourself thus. Indeed, this is a pleasant land if one must make a new life!"

"What are you not saying," sneered Tyne, "there must be something upon this way, the stories say some great treasure lies at its end. If it's all that dangerous, why are you cowards attempting it?"

"He speaks truly," said Page, "those who walk it with the Master by their side need fear nothing, even death. All others must walk warily, for death upon the way is but the least of their fears."

"And what does that even mean?" chortled Tyne, "Come along you lot, we might as well see what lies around the next bend." He grew mockingly solemn in mimicry of Page, saying, "even be it death!" With a harsh guffaw, he continued on his way, the others exchanging grim looks but following silently after.

They walked and walked and walked, Tyne at the fore, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was being followed, so too did the little quartet soon forget the taunts and jibes of the obnoxious boy leading their party as the wonder of the adventure before them finally became foremost in their minds. Said the Prince quietly, "this shall be an adventure my friends, though it proves our last."

"Or our first," amended Page, "for death is but the beginning of Greater Things and who knows what awaits at the end of this Road! Could you not see how eager our host was that we might set foot upon it?"

"But can we walk it together?" said Bayard, "Mustn't we stand or fall by our own strength and courage?"

"That is utterly ridiculous," laughed Kipril, "for we have no strength or courage or faith or goodness to speak of, is it not all His? We can merely borrow His when needed and even then, we fallen, mortal creatures are utterly doomed to failure and death, save for His great mercy and grace."

"Well spoken," nodded the Prince with a wide smile, "all of you. Whatever testing of our mettle or humility or faith or whatever it be that this Road is set to test, I believe we will know what we must, when we must, until then we need not worry that we are somehow breaking the rules or failing the test. As long as we do not willingly leave the Road, I believe we shall make it faithfully to the end, at least if we survive the ordeal."

"And what if we don't survive?" queried Bayard anxiously.

"Live or die," said Page, putting a reassuring hand on the lad's back, "we are in His keeping." They shared an eager grin all around, determined to see what adventure lay ahead.

It was a pleasant land through which they walked, there was ever a chuckling stream to quench their thirst or provide fish for their noon meal. There were wild fruits and game everywhere and the softest grass to rest upon if they grew weary. The weather was perhaps a little too perfect, never hot nor cold, with no rain or grievous wind to mar each glorious day or lovely night. Page shook his head in wonder the third morning of such uneventful travel, "where is the testing, the struggle, the grief, the sorrow we were warned of?"

Kipril grinned wryly, "perhaps indolence and contentment are their own sort of test? Have we not just fled from one horror into perhaps another, why not just relax, forget all our problems, and settle in this paradisiacal land?"

"He has the right of it, me thinks," agreed Ithril, "let's be off before we become permanent residents!"

Tyne growled, "if it weren't for this great treasure, I'd do just that."

"And you'd be wise to do so," said Page sadly.

"You just want more for yourself," snarled he, striding off in the fore, as had been his habit since their advent upon this strange Road. The others exchanged a knowing look, shrugged, and followed dutifully after.

That afternoon things began to change and grew to resemble their assumptions of what the Road must be like. Page sighed, "I fear we'll be missing that perfect land ere much longer."

"Yet another test, my friend," agreed the Prince, "but come, we can only go forward, never back." They walked on, the sun hot overhead and nary a tree to shade them. The streams dried up, the grass failed, and the gentle breeze vanished, leaving them to walk through a barren waste that might as well have been an oven. Parched and miserable, they walked on, sorely missing their previous environs, but determined to reach the end. And just when they thought they could go no further, they found themselves in a verdant wood, a spring bubbling at their feet. With a mutual sigh of relief, they refreshed themselves and of one accord agreed to rest for what was left of the day in the pleasant glade.

The others had dozed off, but Tyne was uneasy, what was this strange way? Why were they so adamant that he not walk it with them? As he mulled over these grim realities, his ears caught the sound of lovely music and all else was driven suddenly from his mind. He stood and gasped, for there was the loveliest maiden he had ever beheld or even imagined, for she was no mortal girl, but verily an elf maid. She sat upon a stone on the far side of the glade playing a harp, and with each stroke, her welcoming smile deepened. He began to approach, as one in a dream, but what sounded to be the harsh voice of Bayard challenged behind him, "what are you doing?"

"She's mine," hissed Tyne.

"Who?" said the flummoxed Bayard.

"Move!" snarled Tyne.

"Where did you get a sword?" said the incredulous Bayard, for to his knowledge there wasn't one in the entire village.

Tyne's smile deepened into something cruel and utterly wicked, as he slashed at the impertinent fellow before him and continued his migration across the glade, but when he got to the other side, the apparition was gone. He glanced about in wonder, for the sword too had vanished, but the stricken boy had not, but his scream of agony had awakened the others. "What have you done?" cried the Prince, kneeling at Bayard's shoulder, as the boy gasped for air and grimaced in pain.

Page shook his head, "there's naught we can do for him."

Said Bayard weakly, "you must go on..." He trailed off as he slumped in death, even as his body faded away like mist in the morning.

"At least we don't have to bury the fool," snarled Tyne, "I saw some fairy wench and she must have hypnotized me, for I knew not what I did. You can't hold me accountable for this!"

Kipril looked ready to do something regrettable, but the Prince and Page held him back, "easy lad," said the Prince, "your friend will have justice one day, but it is not our place to deal it out here and now."

"But must we go on accompanying this murderer?" said Kipril miserably.

"For the moment, yes," said Page, "but I do not believe it will be for much longer." Tyne laughed scornfully at the fools and continued on his way, the others following miserably in his wake. Said Page softly, "I do not believe any of us will long survive our friend." They frowned pensively at this, but nodded as if in sudden understanding, before glancing grimly at the unflustered Tyne, their fate would be easy by comparison.

They walked on for several more days without incident, Tyne seemed rather bored while his companions were heartsick for their lost friend and ill-at-ease in the company of his murderer, but ever they walked on. As they crested a rise and the wooded hills opened before them to reveal a sparkling lake, Tyne shouted for joy and galloped down the far side of the hill; his companions exchanged an anxious look and hastened after. He stood on the bank smiling awkwardly at a girl sitting on a rock in the midst of the lake, each taking turns grinning foolishly and then glancing abashedly at their feet, or fins, as happened to be the case with the mermaid, but each time she looked up, her smile became more and more enticing. Tyne was about to jump into the water and swim out to her but Ithril grasped his shoulder and pulled him back.

Had Tyne a sword, the Prince would have suffered Bayard's fate, but this did not save him from disaster, for no sooner had he pulled the obstinate boy back from the water's edge than the irate youth pushed him into the water, which suddenly grew stagnant and murky, more mud than water. The mermaid vanished from their perception but a horrid beast, all tentacles, was suddenly there to greet them. Ithril screamed, "Run!" even as it grabbed hold and pulled him under.

Kipril barely managed to restrain Page from following his friend into the foul slough, saying quietly, "there is nothing to be done; our turn will come soon enough."

Wiping the tears from his eyes, he nodded grimly and turned his back upon the place he saw his friend vanish beneath the muddy waves. Tyne smiled insolently at them both and continued on, ever on. "Justice is not ours to mete out, my friend," said Kipril quietly, again barely restraining Page from doing something rash, as the villain shoved past them with that horrid smirk on his face. With a heavy sigh, the others followed.

"Why are we doing this?" sighed Page to Kipril as they walked, "Can it truly be worth the cost?"

"That strange man certainly thinks it is," said Kipril sadly, "but at the moment I can't believe it, but I suppose we'll look back at this and laugh, wondering why we made such a fuss over nothing."

Page looked at him morosely, "you call our friends' deaths nothing?"

Kipril smiled wretchedly through his tears, "we are willing to count our own as naught, correct?"

"Yes," said Page slowly, finishing with a wry, sad grin, "so why should we not allow them the same privilege? I guess dying is easy, it's surviving that's hard."

"Wisdom indeed, my friend," said Kipril, "I only hope Tyne learns the same."

"I truly do pity the fiend," said Page at last, "though part of me was hot for vengeance just now, thank you."

Kipril smiled grimly, "merely returning the favor." They shared a sad smile and continued on.

That night their miserable little camp was silent, for Tyne was asleep and the others were too grieved to speak. A stick cracked in the woods behind them, waking Tyne and sending the others to their feet. Kipril snatched a heavy branch from the ground as he stood, staring off into the darkness, almost hoping for a fight. Then they broke cover, squealing, snarling shadows, their weapons flashing in the moonlight. "Run!" snapped Kipril, diving into the biggest clump of the creatures. Page stood rooted to the earth, unable to helplessly abandon another friend to a meaningless death, but the terrified Tyne snatched his hand and dragged him bodily after until his own legs managed to carry him away from the awful scene.

They collapsed panting and nauseous upon the side of the Road, Page's heart aching like a sore tooth besides. "Good riddance," chuckled Tyne, once he had caught his breath.

Page turned a horrified, tear-streaked face towards the unfeeling lout, "he saved us!"

"He wouldn't save our folk so it was the least he could do, besides, now it's just us, the most sensible and deserving of our party," said he with a contented sigh.

"Is that why you forced me to come?" asked Page wearily.

"I'm not about to face this Road alone," scoffed Tyne, "besides, what use have we for a stuck up Prince and two useless village oafs? You're not half as good as me, but you're the best I've got."

Page didn't reply, he didn't trust himself not to do something desperate, instead he rolled over and tried to find what sleep he could, wondering how long one could live in such wretched grief. Tyne shrugged at his companion's silence and was soon asleep. Page couldn't sleep and the ground was incredibly hard, so he stood and walked a short distance down the Road, not too far lest he lose his regrettable companion, but enough that he could be alone.

But he wasn't. He gasped to see three stone biers before him, the shattered forms of one of his friends resting on each. "Choose," said a horribly wrinkled old woman with stringy grey hair that reached to her feet, handing him a dagger.

"What?!" gasped he.

"One of your friends can live again," said the witch, "and you can have your wish to die in their stead."

"You want me to...!" said he in disgust and horror, dropping the dagger in his surprise.

"But it's what you want," said she, "isn't it? Or is that just your noble heart making excuses to salve your conscience? Well, here's your big chance, hero! Or are you too selfish and scared?"

"No witch," said he, "I would give my life in a trice for any of theirs, but not by taking my own! As much as it rends my heart, it cannot be nor do I believe you have such power even so! Be gone from me!"

"As you wish," smirked she, vanishing into the mists of dawn with her biers and his dead.

"What are you doing moping about over here?" queried Tyne with a wide yawn, "Let's be on our way." Page could only blink in wonder and follow silently after.

They had not gone far that day when they finally came to the end of the Road. "Well this is anticlimactic," said Tyne in wonder, and for once Page could heartily agree with him. For there stood the little house they had vacated in quest of this very Road and there it sat at its end. "Is it another trick?" asked Tyne, frowning in perplexity.

"I don't think so," sighed Page, his heart weary beyond anything he had ever imagined, "the Road just goes right up to the door and ends. We can't go back, the forest hems us in on either side, we can only go in."

Tyne shrugged as if nothing would surprise him after this and walked right up and banged on the door. The same man opened it and asked them to come in and seat themselves at what might have been the same tea party. "Now what?" demanded Tyne of their host, "I've faithfully come to the end of the Road, now where's this treasure I was promised?"

"That's it," said the man bluntly, pointing at the remains of their last tea.

"Stale bread and tepid tea?" snarled Tyne, "That's all I'm going to get out of this horrid adventure?"

"It's all you'll accept," said Garren quietly, "the Greatest Treasure in and beyond the world has been offered to you, but you won't deign to accept it."

"I suppose you mean all those silly tales out of the old days?" scoffed Tyne, "I see now that even your Road was only a lie!" He glared at Garren and then at Page, "what about him? He seems quite taken with those old myths, what does he get out of it? Or his wretched friends who couldn't even survive the ordeal? What about the village and all my folk?"

Page watched the exchange with a morbid sort of interest, so heartsick and weary he hardly cared that his friends' sacrifice and his efforts all seemed for naught. Before Garren could answer, Page bowed his head and said, "I'll give myself up to the fiends, though I doubt it will save the village."

"It won't," said Garren, "they'll do as they wish no matter what you or your friends decide to do, at least as the bargain now stands." He eyed Tyne significantly, "go tell your fiendish friends to come in. They can have all four of the lads but they must make a proper deal with me, here, they'll also have safe passage in and out." Not understanding in the least, but not daring to disobey Garren in that particular mood, he dashed from the cottage with a terrified squeak, eliciting a chuckle from his former host.

"Now," said Garren, turning to the overwrought Page, "for you."

Page awakened coughing and sputtering on the cold water Garren threw over him to waken him from his faint. He sat up slowly, wondering what had come over him, as he wasn't one to pass out on a whim, but then he saw them, grinning and laughing at his unseemly antics, or rather, as he soon discovered, as they swarmed over him in the joy of welcome, at being thus reunited. Perhaps seeing the dead living anew was reason enough to faint, especially after all he had endured upon that horrid Road. And now he was going to be given into the hands of those fiends.

"Easy lad," chuckled Garren warmly, "after everything you don't think I'd just hand the lot of you over to those villains and let them win, do you?"

"But how are we to save the village?" said Page, gaining his feet but his mind still reeling in confusion and wonder.

"That's what we've come to negotiate," hissed the first villain as he traipsed in as if he owned the place, "no tricks, wraith," spat he at Garren, "we are come under the promised amnesty."

"Certainly," said Garren evenly, "as you can see, I have the four you're after and you can take them when you go."

"What are your terms?" hissed the second fiend.

"Take these four and go," said Garren sternly, "leave the rest of these mortal sheep to their own devices, content in their ignorance."

"I do not promise our master won't have some other evil or use planned for them in future," snarled the shadow.

"I understand," said Garren, "it is only of your current plot I speak."

"Very well," hissed the first fiend, "but you must promise not to come after these wretched children or to interfere in any way in whatever comes of them at our hands."

"Agreed," said Garren, "take them and be gone."

The second shadow hissed in horrid delight, as he began to gather up the four, saying cruelly, "see what comes of his seeming mercy, fools! You are nothing but pawns to be forfeited for the convenience of others."

Page frowned in consternation, for each of his companions and Garren too seemed to be hiding something, they wore grim looks but underneath there was something, something that threated to burst out at any moment, it could not be, but it was, each was doing his best to hide an explosion of Joy. But perhaps for these men beyond death, there was nothing to fear, but what about himself? But he had willingly accepted this doom to spare the innocent village folk and he would endure what he must, as had the others. With a resigned sigh, he allowed himself to be herded from the little cottage with the others, the front door spewing them out into yet another strange landscape, far from the imperiled village.

"Alright lads," smiled the first fiend gruesomely, the only kind of which it was capable, "will you be joining us or must things get messy?"

"What are you?" frowned Bayard in perplexity, as he looked over the shadowy thing, little more than a black patch with fiery eyes, at least under the sun's bright eye.

"Well," said the second, "I suppose this isn't a proper way to go about an introduction. We'll have to find surroundings more congenial for that, leave it to that wraith to be so inconsiderate of such things!" All four gaped at the thing's yammering, as if he were an old aunt grievously offended by some young scamp of a nephew's behavior at a garden party. But suddenly the world shifted around them and they gaped anew, this time in surprise at the glorious day's replacement by this dark, dripping ruin.

"Much better," sighed shadow the first, as if arising from a refreshing nap, but it was a shadow no more, rather it was a skeletal wraith with burning eyes and sharp, pointy teeth, draped all in black cloth. It settled it's fiery eyes on the four gaping youths and smiled viciously, "now what think you, me lads? Better?"

"No," said Kipril in disgust, "most certainly not!"

"Then you'll be the first to die," hissed the second fiend, "and perhaps your horrid death will convince the rest of these fools that they don't want to perish likewise!"

"That really isn't a good idea," said Kipril patiently, allowing a glimmer of deadly light to shine through.

"No!" hissed the first, "It cannot be! All of you?!"

"Curse that wraith, we've been had!" spat the second, "We should have known better when he agreed to negotiate and turned you wretched lambs over to us without a qualm!"

But that terrible smile returned as the first caught Page's anxious movement, said the thing with grim delight, "perhaps we can salvage a little of our grand scheme? What of you, wretch?"

Page took another step back in fear and disgust, "I do not know, horror. I ventured forth upon that Road with my friends, they all perished upon the way, but I somehow survived the ordeal." He hung his head, "and I vowed to give myself up to you if the village folk might be spared."

The second licked its lips, if it had any, with a forked tongue, "so what then is your choice, mortal? The rest of these ghosts can be of no interest to us, but you! You could be great and terrible indeed!" It laughed dreadfully, "or you can merely die."

Page looked to his friends for some sign of hope, he knew what he must do, but could he? But the silly creatures just stood there trying not to grin or laugh, which made him frown in consternation, were his life truly in danger, they could in nowise be so complacent, just as he could not stand by and watch indifferently as each of them perished in turn. What was going on?

"Answer me boy or we'll take your silence as a negative!" snarled the first wraith.

Page's frown deepened in disgust, "do your worst, monster, I know Whose I am!"

"Wrong answer," hissed the second in pleasure, its tongue lolling from one side of its mouth like a hungry dog eyeing a haunch of venison. Then they came for him, and his friends could no longer contain themselves, even as the villains latched onto Page, ready to tear him apart, the madly grinning trio burst forth like the dawn, their light and joy breaking out with all the suddenness of a new day, even as Page's own person flared forth in protest at being manhandled by creatures totally anathema to his very nature. The fiends shrieked in terror and rage and pain, snarling imprecations as they let go of their prey and withdrew to the far side of the ruin. "What is this!" spat the second.

"For once I agree with the wraith," said Page in wonder, studying his now radiant person in pleased surprise.

Bayard laughed, "you thought you simply fainted!"

"What did happen?" asked Page, his brow furrowed in perplexity.

"What do you remember?" queried the vastly amused Ithril.

Said Page pensively, "Tyne scampered off with a message for our vile friends, then Garren turned to me and said it was my turn, but turn for what I couldn't imagine. Then there was this awful radiance and the next thing I knew was him dousing me with cold water and you three reprobates grinning like madmen at his antics."

"You simpleton!" spat the first fiend, "You did not survive the Road as you had boasted, that wretched ghost destroyed you!"

Kipril shook his head in amusement, "I suppose that is one way to put it, but it is far more precise to say you were unmade, at least your mortal flesh, for no man can look upon that and live."

"And the water?" asked Page in growing excitement.

"The Water of Life," grinned Ithril like some naughty child, "we found ourselves upon the River's brink upon death, but in your case it had to come to you."

"And you just let me assume I was a mortal man doomed to a horrid death?" asked Page in bland neutrality, though a slight twitching of one corner of his mouth betrayed his vast amusement.

"I'm sure we betrayed enough disinterest in the matter to allay your fears, my friend," chuckled the Prince, "as perceptive as you are."

"I was actually rather astonished you managed to contain yourselves for as long as you did," retorted Page, his grin nearly rivaling his person for radiance, "I am surprised Garren let you loose in the wide world with so little ability to control yourselves!"

"As pleasant as this is," hissed one of the fiends, for one could not tell them apart, "we still desire revenge!" He drew forth a sword from somewhere and leapt upon the blabbering ghost as his companion did likewise, charging the distracted quartet. For a moment light and darkness swirled madly like a crazed thunderhead, but then the perpetual gloom of that old ruin resumed its sightless and silent vigil as if the intruders had never been.

"How was your adventure lads?" came Garren's amused question as the four sat again at his table, shaking their heads and blinking their eyes in wonder to again be somewhere else. He chuckled at their perplexity and sheepish grins, "don't worry, you'll get used to it."

"It only took you a decade or so," came a strange voice, as all but Garren glanced about for the source, each beaming like the new risen sun to see that fabulous horse with his head in the window.

"Easy lads!" said Garren, "If that's how little control you possess, I daren't let you loose upon the unsuspecting world." At this, the radiant scamps exchanged a wry grin and schooled their persons to bland neutrality. "Very good," said Garren with a smile, "that will become easier with time as well."

"What of Tyne?" asked Page at last, "Can one truly complete the Road and remain unchanged?"

"What do you think lad?" said Garren quietly.

"No," replied he, "it shows us who we truly are, in all our weakness, failings, and wretchedness. One must either find strength in Him or fall utterly into despair. I believe also that having traipsed along the skirts of time, perhaps even straying slightly into eternity itself, one would find the mortal world colorless and drab by comparison." He shuddered, "that the two in combination would make one wretched indeed."

"And ripe for the Enemy's service," said Ithril wretchedly.

"He must make his own choice," said Garren sadly, "so must we all."

"Sorry to interrupt such a melancholy party," said that wondrous horse, "but don't these lads have something to do?"

"Quite!" said Garren, grinning himself like a summer morn, save no light escaped his jubilant person, "Come lads, it is time you were horsed, off with you!" He opened the front door once more, eliciting a communal groan from the quartet at his tea table. He grinned the more, "easy lads, the Road will now in nowise be so horrid, rather it will avail itself to your errands upon it or anywhere you have a need to be."

"Very well," said Page, rising from his place and daring that door once more, "I don't believe it could be worse."

"That's not very encouraging," grinned Bayard, as the others joined him at the door, "but let us see who has the right of it!" Garren could only exchange a pained look with the wonderful horse and close the door behind his incorrigible guests.

"The Road wasn't that bad," said Bayard to Page, "was it?"

"Perhaps not to you, my friend," chuckled Ithril, "for you bowed out of the story quite early in the telling, whereas poor Page had to walk the whole wretched thing and live to tell the tale."

"Ah," said Bayard in sudden comprehension, "it must have been dreadful indeed!"

"But well worth it," grinned Page for all he was worth, happily concealing all trace of his radiant exuberance for once.

"Garren said we must be horsed," said Kipril, "I wonder how that is to be accomplished?"

"I'm sure we'll find out in due course," said Page in his persistent role as the sensible one of the group.

"At least that means we won't be at the mercy of this wretched byway any longer," said Ithril.

Bayard shook his head, "I believe you have it backwards, my friend, for now the Road is at our mercy."

"Do not be ridiculous, child" chuckled a strange voice from overhead, garnering four sets of curious eyes upon itself. Continued the amused little owl, "the Road wends whither it will, it does not bow to anyone's notions or demands, but it will take you where and when you have a need to be, however it won't take you anywhere you've merely a whim to go."

"We're not exactly tourists," grinned Bayard for all he was worth, a gesture that might have made the King call for his headsman, mused the erstwhile Prince to himself.

"Of course not," smiled the owl, "there are none such upon the Road, only those with a Reason or a Need to be upon it, are. Now tell me of yourselves, lads, for it is a very strange thing indeed to see so many together upon this Way."

Page shrugged, "we thought to have an adventure and here we are."

Grinned the Prince, "a story completely different than we had imagined, even in our wildest dreams."

"Very well," said the owl, as if what he was next to say fit right into the flow of conversation, "I shall accompany you."

"A chaperone?" asked Page.

"A guide?" said the Prince.

"Neither," said the owl rather bluntly, "a mere companion I suppose, if you giddy youths can attempt this Road, why not I?"

"But you're..." began Bayard, only to be interrupted by that talking avian thing, "a bird?"

"No," said the boy, "a far wiser creature than the four of us combined."

"Of course," agreed the owl, "which is why I will be such a boon to your party."

"What do you get out of it?" queried Page, suddenly suspicious.

The owl chuckled deep in his throat, "that you shall certainly see." They exchanged a puzzled look, but as he seemed no more forthcoming than the tree he had just vacated, they shrugged and continued on their way.

Some hours later, as the sun broke over the eastern hills, the owl broached the obvious, "are we not going to stop for the day?" The four exchanged a wondering look and a vastly amused smile, only now realizing they had walked all night and felt neither tired nor hungry, nor had their sight failed them though heavy clouds had hidden all trace of moon and stars. Apparently they could go on indefinitely without rest or refreshment, but apparently their odd companion could not, and in deference to himself, they agreed to rest for the day, though he seemed to overlook the fact that had his companions been mortal men, they would have preferred sleeping through the night rather than this diurnal nap, or perhaps he just assumed they were being polite and adjusting their schedule to his, or as a species they had finally come to their senses and abandoned the horrid light of day and were now active at night like all sensible creatures must be. Whatever the reason, he kept his own counsel as he fluttered up into a nearby tree and was soon asleep.

"I'll ward our peculiar guest," said Kipril, "you three may venture abroad as you think you must." They exchanged a merry grin and suddenly vanished into the surrounding trees, strangely certain of finding the Road again even as they strayed boldly from it.

As Kipril stood at the base of the tree, watching as the slumbering fowl whistled quietly in its sleep, he was not surprised to meet a very intriguing person as he walked quite leisurely upon that most peculiar of all byways. He stopped before the seeming boy, bowed flamboyantly, and grinned brightly, asking, "know you the way sir?"

It was a lad about his own age, but one dressed in such ostentatious and florid robes that the most garish flower might blush at the sight. Asked Kipril, "the way?"

"Yes," said the boy, his grin as bright as his robes, "I am a scholar come to study this odd byway, to chart its every turning, and I would know the way to go."

"Scholar, bah!" snapped the owl peevishly, wakened from a sound sleep by the gibbering of the earthbound bipeds, "What know any of you of wisdom! Especially you, scholar, if that's what you are, for you cannot chart the Road."

"What then am I to do upon it?" said the puzzled and troubled boy.

"That's your business and none of ours," hissed the ill-tempered owl.

Kipril grinned impishly at the irate fowl, "why don't you resume your nap and I shall deal with our flummoxed scholar." Murmuring grumpily to itself, the bird flew to a distant tree to resume its interrupted nap.

"He is certainly a grump," said the scholar in wonder.

Kipril smiled, "to him it is the very middle of the night, would we be any different in like circumstances?"

"I suppose not," said the boy thoughtfully, "but what of his assertions about the nature of this Road?"

"He's right," said Kipril, "the Road wends where it will, in time and out, never the same twice."

"How disappointing," sighed the boy, "what then am I to study?"

"How about the nature of talking birds?" grinned Kipril.

"That has already been done," said the boy in dismissal, "I need something entirely novel, such as this peculiar Road."

"Why study anything so esoteric at all?" queried Kipril in confusion.

"How else could I become a renowned scholar if I do not?" retorted the boy.

"Have you no other business upon this Road than an academic interest?" asked Kipril.

"I fear not," sighed that disappointed academic, brightening slightly he asked, "and you?"

Kipril grinned, "that is yet to be seen."

"Might I come with you?" asked the boy eagerly.

Kipril said thoughtfully, "if you don't mind our irascible owl and four irksome youths."

"And whither have flown your friends?" came the instant query, "I thought none could leave the Path without dire consequences?"

"I'm sure they'll be along presently," countered Kipril, "they would in nowise be so silly to lose themselves thus."

"For their sakes," mused the boy, "I hope you are correct."

Kipril added, "and I hope you don't mind traveling by night, as our feathered friend would no doubt prefer?"

The lad shrugged, "what is daylight to me? Have I not spent the last few years buried in a library with only a candle and old manuscripts for company, until the sun is quite forgot?"

"Who is your friend, Kipril?" came Bayard's familiar voice, as all three errant lads returned from their wanderings, though from three different directions.

Introductions were made all around, much to everyone's delight, and as the sun just then decided to vanish behind the distant hills, so too did the owl awaken and urge them all to set forth anew, new acquaintance or not, said he with a shrug, "what matters to me if there be one or a dozen of you silly earthbound creatures? But off we go!" The human members of the party exchanged a wide grin before setting off in high spirits, as if they were merely boys abroad on some joyous lark.

Asked Kipril of Bayard as they jogged along, "what were you lot up to in my absence?"

Bayard shook his head in wonder and grinned like a veritable imp, "what didn't we do? This is quite the profession we've entered, my friend, while you were minding our fascinating feathered companion, we were off doing any number of things from delivering messages, foiling plots of the enemy, offering direction to those lost or confused, and anything else you could imagine."

"Did you happen to rescue a kitten from a tree?" queried Kipril quite solemnly.

"Perhaps one of the others was so blessed," replied his equally stoic friend.

"Or mayhap I shall be in my turn," nodded his companion.

Ithril joined their company, leaving Page and the scholar to amuse one another while the owl flew on ahead, indifferent to the gaiety of his companions, said he, "this is certainly an odd little party we've assembled. How is it the Road is in nowise so dreadful for them as it was for us?"

"Perhaps they are on it for different reasons?" mused Bayard, "Or perhaps being completely different individuals, their needs are quite different than our own were?"

"Whatever the reason," grinned Kipril, "it shall be quite the adventure."

Sometime in the middle watch of the night, the company stopped that the mortal members might rest and acquire for themselves a meal of one sort or another. The owl went off to hunt along the verge of the road while the scholar happily partook of the food Page produced from his satchel, his companions sharing a wondering smile at these providential provisions. They too had their share, more to maintain appearances than for the sake of nutrition, but they quite enjoyed their supper, now able to eat merely for pleasure rather than necessity. When everyone was sated, off they went anew, wondering what waited around the next bend in the Road.

And wonder they did, for there, in the very midst of the Road, stood, if not a unicorn, then the nearest any equid could come in glory and beauty. He seemed rather surprised to meet such a company, saying in equal astonishment to theirs, "now this is a strange sight!"

"Ah!" said the owl, alighting upon a convenient branch, "Another talking beast! At last we shall hear some sense, the jabbering of these mortal fledglings has about driven me mad!"

"I could well believe it," said the horse, cocking his head and studying the owl with one great eye, "but how is it you can speak, my avian friend?"

"I might ask the same of you, horse," said the owl defensively.

"How ever that may be," said the horse, "I shall be joining you forthwith." As none in the party seemed surprised in the least at this notion, they continued on of one accord.

As morning threatened to set the east alight, the company settled in a little glade where the owl soon found a hidden perch and the horse lazily pulled at the grass, intent on his breakfast. The scholar yawned and was soon asleep as all but Ithril then vanished into the surrounding trees. The horse gave them a curious look as they disappeared, but soon returned to his grazing, leaving Ithril to wonder the more at the odd little company they were gathering about themselves.

"Well met, sir!" came the cheery voice, interrupting his introspection, glancing at the sleeping scholar, the aging man added, "I hope I am not disturbing you?"

"Not in the least," grinned Ithril, "please join us, if that be your wish, everyone else has!" At his odd look, the former prince then went on to explain their odd little company.

"The Road!?" said the man, a traveling storyteller by trade, "Have I fallen into one of my own stories?"

"Only if you choose to," said Ithril, "for the moment it seems at least one of our varied companions has need of you or you of us, however the case may be, but I do not believe you must continue on this Way unless you wish to, merely our Road and yours coincide for the moment."

"I am quite curious as to the nature of this strange Path," mused he, "but dare I risk it?"

"Your life will never again be the same," agreed Ithril, "but I do believe it is well worth the price."

"Well," said the man, "ever have I told of adventures had by others, but never have I had such an opportunity to have one of my own!"

"A man who truly considers himself wise?" said the horse in wonder, "At least these mere boys admit their complete and utter ignorance, but what of you?"

The old man snorted in amusement, "what do I know, having lived but few years and that in a fallen world? The only true Wisdom comes from outside our impoverished mortal sphere; it must seep in from the imperishable world beyond our own, of this faint trickle have I endeavored to drink my fill, but alas only a few precious drops have I in my possession."

"That is wisdom indeed," snorted the horse in approbation, "knowing how little one truly knows!"

At last the sun set, the three errant boys returned, and the sleepers roused from their rest. None were surprised at finding another member in their party, and after a brief round of introductions and food for the humanfolk, they all set off upon this strangest of all constitutionals. As they walked, the man told many a tale of the world he knew and of the one he hoped to one day see, that lurked just beyond sight. The horse and scholar listened intently, the boys exchanged smiling glances, and the owl flew on, indifferent as ever. So it continued for days and days, for time passes strangely upon that Way, but at last the man had exhausted his full store of tales and none had either further questions or interest. Said he quietly, as they stopped again for the day, "I believe the time of decision has come for each of us. We must decide what to do with the Tales and this Road."

He eyed each of them significantly, as if their very destiny rested upon their decision thereupon, and indeed it did. The owl fluffed up his feathers and hooted in derision, "what would you have me do with such folly? Let me sleep!" With that, he flitted off into the nearest tree and vanished amid the foliage.

"Very interesting," sighed the horse, "but can it mean to me what it means for these wretched mortal children?"

"I do not see why not," said the storyteller, "at least if you are a fallen creature such as we mere men?"

"Then I have much to think upon," said the horse, as he disappeared into the shadows of the wood.

The scholar scratched his head in wonder, "of all I have read and heard in my long years of study, nothing has so ensnared my heart or stirred my mind, indeed, I believe I have come Home at last!"

"And the rest of you?" queried the old man of the four common-seeming lads, their eyes sparkling in pure delight, he shook his head in good humored exasperation, "I doubt any of you lot had any need for my tales at all!"

"Though one never tires of hearing them," agreed Bayard, his grin at its best, or worst, depending on the mood of whomever gazed upon it, whether they felt the urge to grin likewise or call for his head, respectively.

"But what of you?" queried Page, "Now that your tales are fully told, will you continue upon this Road or take another?"

"I haven't had my adventure yet, lads," grinned he.

"Adventure you say?" came a cold and horrid voice, "I'll give the lot of you an adventure you won't soon forget!"

The boys were immediately on their feet, clutching at swords that weren't there and wondering what was to be done with one of their perennial foes that dared invade not only the Road but their campsite as well, neither was he alone, for suddenly the horse trotted back into the clearing even as the owl darted from the tree, both routed by what appeared to be animated corpses in rusting armor, traipsing out of the surrounding trees.

"Much better," hissed the fiend, this particular specimen appearing to be some sort of fell warrior, "now that you've all been kind enough to assemble, I would hear your answer?"

"To what?" snorted the horse in disgust.

"What is to come of the lot of you?" hissed the monster.

"I believe we each must make our own decision upon the matter," said the storyteller.

The horse shook his head in disgust, "I suppose you would say we must bend knee to your fell master or die?"

"Precisely," snarled the fiend, "now what of your answers?"

The stymied quartet was anxious to have a sword in hand and fall upon the lot of their foes, but it seemed this was some testing of the Road in which they were not allowed to interfere, they could merely stand and watch until the fell thing decided to act treacherously against their companions.

Said the owl, fluffing his feathers in irritation, "what need have I of either your dread master or his awful enemy? I am content in and of myself!"

"What of you, old man?" hissed the monster.

The storyteller smiled insolently and said, "a heretic through and through, milord, at least as you would see it."

"And you, nag?" snarled the villain.

The horse snorted in disgust, "to think that I must die! I once thought myself, like the owl, too great and important to bend my stubborn neck to anyone's yoke, but at last I understand that His is easy, His burden light. It is my own foolishness that has brought such trouble and tragedy into my life of late. I will submit myself to His keeping, not yours, fell thing!"

"What of you, wretched child?" scorned the fiend.

The scholar shook his head, "I began this journey in hopes of finding wisdom, and that have I done, save not in the way I anticipated, do unto be as you must, but I will not forsake the Wisdom I have found."

"And you pathetic boys?" spat the thing.

"You shall never have us," said Kipril, the others nodding their concurrence.

"Kill them all," grated the horror to his undead soldiery, but it was not to be, for at last those uncanny boys felt the full weight of a sword in each of their hands, and while Ithril and Page confronted the leader of the loathsome little party, Bayard and Kipril began felling the unthinking minions as if they were naught but brush choking a pasture back home. The others watched with wide eyes, save the owl, who scoffed his indifference, determined to get what sleep he could in what was left of the day.

The scholar and storyteller smiled their relief and thanks when all was finished, but the horse gazed upon the uncanny lads in dread, demanding, "who are you?"

"No one of consequence," said Bayard quietly.

"But?!" gasped the astonished beast, but Kipril shook his head grimly and he refrained from finishing his statement, lest he further betray the uncanny lads to be more than they seemed.

"Now," said Ithril, "I believe our storyteller had asked each of us a very important question ere this little interruption, and we have each yet to answer?"

The scholar grinned at the storyteller and said, "I would follow you sir, wherever you have a mind to go and perhaps you can impart some of your wisdom to me that perhaps I could one day pass it on in my own turn?"

"Well that decides me, lad" said he, all grin, "I can't very well face the Road with an apprentice in tow, besides, that dark warrior was adventure enough to last several lifetimes, whatever you giddy lads might think of the matter. I believe it's time we returned to the world we forsook, that we may impart what little wisdom we possess to those who yet wander in darkness and fear." He glanced at the impishly grinning foursome, smiling in his own turn, "and I doubt you lot are going to ever explain just what happened here?" Their silent, mad smiles were answer enough. He looked to the scholar, who nodded eagerly, and of one accord they stepped from the Path and vanished therefrom upon other adventures bent.

The great horse eyed them warily, saying, "I suppose I must continue upon this Way until I find my Home again."

Bayard nodded sagely, "a wise decision, my friend. Would you very much mind our company?"

The horse snorted ironically, "indeed, I doubt I could be free of it even did I wish it, and I have no other defense against such fell things!"

"And you owl?" asked Ithril, of the persnickety fowl who pretended for all the world to be dead asleep.

"I'll do as it pleases me," harrumphed the oddity, as unconcerned and determined as ever he was. The four boys and even the horse exchanged a wry grin at this, settling down once more to await the evening when their journey might begin anew.

At last that strange bird bestirred himself and the others followed his lead, for he seemed to know whither he was going, or at least showed no doubt as to his certainty upon his destination, if not knowing the exact route to get there. But they had hardly left their bivouac than they all stopped abruptly and stared about in wonder, for without a doubt this had to be fabled Paradise. "Ah!" said that peculiar fowl, "At last, I have come into my own."

The horse snorted in puzzlement at this statement, "and just what do you mean by that? Since when is such a heretic allowed to gad about this Blessed Land at his leisure? Especially when I, a native son, am not allowed back across the River for my pride!"

"It was promised me long ago," said the owl, "by the very one that cursed me with this ridiculous form!"

The boys merely stood there, watching the exchange with interest, though Page glanced about in wonder, this being his first visit to this lovely land, which every man could not help but immediately recognizing as Home. They began to understand the horse's predicament, but what of the owl?

The horse was completely flummoxed, "who has the power to make such a promise?"

"Someone with magic strong enough to ensorcell a dragon!" hissed that ridiculous little fowl with delusions of reptilian grandeur.

"A fell sorcerer indeed," agreed the horse, "but I am quite certain his power is nothing to the true Master of this Land. How can he give you free leave to wander lands over which he is not master?"

"With your blood," chortled the owl, "he assures me that it is quite possible, both my dominion over this bounteous country and the restoration of my natural form."

The horse tossed his head in delight, "and just how, little owl, do you plan to slay me?"

"Drat," said the owl, "perhaps one of our foolish companions would be so bold? In exchange for his life when I am King of Paradise?"

Bayard shook his head in wonder, "even had we the wish, we cannot harm a mortal creature."

"Can't we?" said Page with a thoughtful crease in his brow, "What of my own recruitment into this mad business?"

"It is certainly worth a try," said Kipril, smiling in anticipation.

"What are you lot mumbling about?" snapped the owl.

Said Ithril to the horse, "we have reached the end of the Road, my friend, what happens if you try to return to your homeland?"

"I shall try," said the horse, "otherwise I will be stuck standing on this Road for all eternity!" He set one dainty hoof upon the turf between the River and the Road, watching carefully what would happen. He gasped in horror as the vision wavered, shifted, and became a desert land with a great chasm gaping where once the River had flowed. Shaking his great head sadly, he said, "I fear it is not to be, my friends, you must venture forth without me."

"Would you be willing to try a little experiment?" queried Bayard.

The horse was suddenly uneasy, "what are you suggesting?"

"You are certain you've made peace with our Master?" queried Ithril.

Page faced the owl with draconian aspirations, "you might want to run along, this could get messy!"

"Hah!" spat the owl, "Do your worst boy, you are as harmless to me as I am to that wretched horse!"

"Very well," said Bayard, glancing questioningly at his friends and their two companions. All nodded, the boys in excitement, the horse grimly, and the owl in derision. With an impish grin, he unveiled that deadly light, reducing them all to sunbeams.

The horse was on his feet in a moment, even before the glare had fully faded from his vision. He whinnied in very Joy, dashing from one prone glowing form to another, nudging them with his radiant muzzle, trying to rouse them that they might share his Joy. But even as the stunned boys began to stir, the horse, who was a horse no longer, dashed headlong into the River, swam across, and screamed in excitement as he met three of his long sundered kinsmen upon the far shore. Water droplets gleamed like diamonds in the sun as he spread his great wings and reared in Joy. The four common-looking boys watched in wonder, drawing their gazes away from the beautiful scene for only a moment to occasionally exchange joyous smiles amongst themselves. Then all four of the Pegassi leapt the River and stood prancing in anticipation on the boys' side.

Said their companion of so many days, as he sidled up to Bayard, "I have come Home at last! If only I had not left it in the first place."

Bayard patted the great neck affectionately, smiling fit to split his face in two, "forget what has been, my friend, rejoice in what Is! For our sins are forgotten, He remembers them no more!"

"Ah!" said the Pegassi in wonder, "I believe I now understand redemption! But come, have we not something to be about?" With a warm laugh, Bayard swung himself aback the wondrous beast, and with one sweep of his great wings, they vanished.

The boys blinked and blinked again, finding themselves at Garren's ridiculous tea party. Grinned he, "how was your adventure this time, lads?"

"For one thing," said the resident Pegassi, "I will need a bigger paddock if this is going to be a permanent arrangement." They all laughed as five Pegassi all tried to stick their heads in the window at once.

Garren chuckled, "easy lad, we'll have these scamps off upon their own adventures soon enough, but first they'll have to clean up the mess a certain old acquaintance of theirs has made in their absence."

"Not Tyne again," sighed Bayard.

"Certainly not," said Garren with a vastly amused grin, "he's got far bigger plans than hanging about his home village for the rest of Time. This is more of a resident muddle."

"What?" asked Kipril worriedly.

"Your little sister," laughed Garren, catching Bayard's wondering gaze.

"Now that is a disaster," laughed Ithril, the others soon joining him, even the anxious brother.

Once they had regained some semblance of sanity, Garren again shooed them out the door, into their more usual environs, at least formerly. "How long has it been, do you think?" queried Bayard, wondering if his sister was now old enough to be his mother, or was even married or perhaps had grandchildren.

"About half an hour," said Page knowingly.

"How did you determine that?" asked Ithril in wonder, glancing at the sun, it was certainly near the same hour but was it even the same year or day?

Page shook his head and pointed at the neighbor's laundry upon the line, still dripping occasionally, but not so much as it had, for she had been hanging it on the line as they first knocked upon that strange door. The former prince burst out laughing, "you are certainly a great sage my friend, but what if the lady only does laundry upon a certain day of the week, it could still be a different week?"

Page shook his head, "those vivid kerchiefs, each a different hue, are in the exact order they were in when our adventures began. Perhaps she is so organized that her laundry is always hung in the exact same order, but I highly doubt it, especially considering how inexact and disorderly is that lovely, half-wild flower bed in the far corner of her yard."

"I suppose you must be right," smiled the Prince, all amusement at his friend's own sense of order and decorum.

"Enough of that, Sire," grinned Kipril, "we'd best go rescue the village from whatever mayhem Kaya has unleashed."

"I've done no such thing," squeaked the aggrieved damsel, "who says that I have?"

Bayard could not help himself, "that old hermit within said you were up to some mischief or other."

"Did he?!" said she, aghast, "Well I'm sure he knows nothing of the matter." She frowned suspiciously, "just how do you know that, it isn't like anyone ever intentionally talks to the fellow?"

"We did a deed most outrageous, milady," grinned the Prince, "and did just that."

"And?" asked the girl, "Is he a fell warrior from beyond our own reality sent to fight horrors against whom no mortal may prevail?"

"How did you know?!" gasped Kipril.

"Quit teasing, Kipril," sighed the girl in exasperation, "you know I made that up!"

"Quite," grinned he, valiantly hiding a desperate case of ruefulness, "so what exactly are you doing here?"

"I followed you," said she, "it isn't fair that my brother gets to have all the fun!"

"I'm not sure what we've been up to can be classified as fun," said Bayard solemnly.

"You've been thus employed for what, half a morning?" said she incredulously, "Besides, if this Prince truly wants to hunt something unique, he'll need me too!"

"And what would this astonishing quarry of yours be, milady?" queried Page in all earnestness.

"You can't go hunting unicorns without a maiden you know?" said she triumphantly.

"Unicorns?!" said all four at once.

"Quite," said she, all smugness, "they're easy enough to find if you know where to look."

The Prince had no choice, said he most solemnly, "milady, you are hired." She grinned like triumph itself, particularly at her brother, who could only shake his head and wonder what exactly would happen next in this astonishing career.

"First," said Page, "we had best get our borrowed horses back to the inn, for I do not doubt they'll panic upon first sight or scent of the legendary beasts."

Asked the Prince of the lady, "is there anything in particular we need for this curious expedition, milady?"

"A picnic lunch would be nice," grinned she.

Page could not help but laugh, but taking up the reins of their assorted horses, he hefted himself into his own saddle and hastened off to fulfill this most pleasing of orders. He returned soon enough, lunch basket under his arm. "Now we can be off," said their jubilant leader.

"Not so fast," said the Prince, "perhaps our esteemed hermit might be interested in this little expedition?"

"If you must," sighed Kaya, wondering just what sort of person the reclusive man was, especially when he would implicate her in some sort of unnamed mischief when they were not acquainted in the least.

"What do you want?" said Garren, in his best attempt at surliness, but failing utterly in the face of all those knowing smiles. He shook his head ruefully and asked, "what can I do for you lads?" Bowing cordially to Kaya, he asked, "milady?" She forgave him immediately, wondering why she had not befriended such a scamp long ago.

"We were about to accompany the lady on a unicorn hunt and thought you might like to tag along?" said Page easily.

"Really?!" said Garren in wonder, "I would be most intrigued, milady?"

Said Kaya, all grin, "I have no qualms about him accompanying us."

"What know you of these peculiar beasties?" queried he.

"Not much," said the girl, "save where to find them on occasion."

"I'm sure that's more than all the rest of us know in combination," said he, "lead on, though I suggest we ride."

"I thought you just got rid of your horses lest they spook?" frowned the girl in incomprehension.

Garren grinned, "I've horses enough for all of us, assuming no one objects?" The four boys knew he wasn't speaking of their preferences, but as her eyes narrowed, he added, "and they are such wise creatures that they won't spook like most such beasts in like circumstances."

Said she, "I know you have one fabulous beast, sir, I did not know you had more, but if any horse is like to stand his ground before such a sight, it would be one such I think, very well, we shall do as you suggest."

As Garren went off to talk to the Pegassi, Page thought to address the maiden to garner further details, that they might devise a plan ere they rode blindly into the middle of a matter they little understood. Said she to his query, "to tell the truth, I have been keeping tryst with the creature since the night my brother decided to spend the same in that horrid old keep. I was so mad and jealous that our parents wouldn't allow me to tag along or have a similar adventure that I ran from the house in furious tears, quite losing myself in the woods, for I just ran and ran, blinded by my rage until I was well beyond all knowledge of where I was. Then that storm came and I thought I would never again see my home or parents or even my brother, whom I had never wished to see again but a few hours prior. Then he came to me, shining like the moon through the middle of that awful storm, sheltering me from the cold and wet and terror.

I slept beside him whilst he warded the night, the next morning he brought me to the edge of the wood near our house and bade me reconcile myself with my family, and asked if I might visit him from time to time, to which I readily agreed and thus have I done, whenever I can slip away for an afternoon or a morning, we walk together and talk along a great, rushing stream, whose banks are all moss and ferns, whither it is ever cool and misty, no matter the heat of the day."

Page nodded, "thank you, milady, that helps much, but will he not take it amiss if you bring such a cavalcade with you?"

She smiled, "I had already considered that. I thought to leave you all some distance from our meeting place, broach the subject with him, and then return for you with his leave."

"Rather ride with your brother," said Page, "and together approach the creature, I do not think he will then take a fright. Once you have spoken with him, the rest of us may then make his acquaintance."

She eyed him stonily and said, "yes, I quite agree, but let no one bring sword, bow, or spear either."

"Of a certainty madam," grinned Page, "none of us are that silly, for would it not be akin to threatening any of your village folk likewise?"

She smiled abashedly and said, "forgive me, it is not you or the Prince I doubt, but my incorrigible brother and his scampish friend!"

"You are quite wise to be wary of such fiends, milady," grinned Page in agreement.

When Bayard asked what was so amusing, they told him, he could only smile and say, "quite!" But as Garren then returned with five fantastic horses in his train, all other thoughts or activities were thus abandoned as they gained their saddles and set forth on this most intriguing of quests. Bayard had a dozen questions he wished to put to Garren about unicorns, their place in the mortal world, their relation to the Pegassi and the other residents of Paradise, if they could see through the thinly veiled disguises of the Messengers and Pegassi, and that sort of thing, but as his sister rode with him, he and his fabulous mount must for the moment act as nothing more interesting than a scamp and his fabulous horse.

But that did not keep Kipril from asking such questions, as they rode together at the back of the party as Bayard and his sister led the way. "I have many questions, Garren," began the boy, adding, "and I know our dear quadrupedal friends would likely be the better source of information upon this matter, but alas we cannot yet betray their more interesting nature, so your wisdom will have to suffice."

"Thanks, I think," chuckled their rather bemused mentor, "I will do my best but as you have already asserted, my knowledge upon this subject is quite limited. I was quite intrigued to hear of a unicorn gadding about the mortal sphere, it is not unheard of for such creatures to abandon Paradise in pride or rebellion, but this does not seem to be the case, for such haughty creatures are not likely to be friendly towards or even allow mortal men so much as a glimpse of themselves. In general, they are immortal creatures, like the Pegassi, residents of untainted Paradise, but they may choose to leave, either in rebellion against their True Master or upon errands of their own, whatever they be."

"Can they see through our mortal disguise?" queried the boy.

Garren looked a question at his mount, who made sure the girl's attention was occupied elsewhere before speaking, "if a fallen creature he be, then no, he will not be able to tell one man from another or recognize a Pegassi unless he wishes to be seen for what he truly is. But if he is untainted by sin and rebellion, and is still a resident of Paradise, though he dwells for a time in this broken sphere, then yes, we cannot hide from his gaze, but then neither will we have any reason to fear him or he us."

"But what could he have to do with Kaya?" queried Kipril in wonder.

"That is what we go to discover," said Garren with an eager smile.

They soon reached a little glade near the place where the girl was wont to meet this most intriguing companion, here she bade them wait her coming, as she and Bayard and his Pegassi clove deeper into the wood, intent on their quarry. It was no surprise to Bayard's now timeless sensibilities that he was there awaiting them, but it always surprised Kaya no end that he seemed to ever know the exact time of her coming or had the patience to wait there day in and day out in hopes she might do just that. Neither the seeming horse nor the unicorn took a fright at the sight of one another, but Kaya slid from the saddle and raced to meet her old friend, saying in delight, "I hope you do not mind, but I have brought my brother, and his friends would also like to meet you?"

The unicorn bowed his great head to nuzzle the maiden gently, saying, "it is most delightful to me to make the acquaintance of such noble and gentle folk, by all means, bring your other companions, if they be of similar occupation and heart?" Kaya frowned in puzzlement at this last part of the statement, but both Bayard and the Pegassi surreptitiously nodded their agreement. Bayard dismounted, winked at the Pegassi, who reared his affirmative, and galloped back the way they had come to fetch the others, momentarily stunning Kaya with his exuberance, she having thought him the most docile of beasts.

Said she in wonder, "your horse will bring the others?"

"Why are you surprised he would return to his companions?" said Bayard rather lamely, unable to give a better explanation.

"Will they not think something dreadful has happened when he returns alone?" asked she in wonder.

"They are in nowise so silly, dear heart," grinned Bayard, "only I would be so impetuous. Now why don't you introduce me to your friend?"

"Gracious!" said she, "How rude of me, I had quite forgot!"

The introductions were quickly made, the unicorn bowing regally and saying, "well met, well met indeed! Ever is it a pleasure to meet such a Man!" Kaya might have burst out laughing at such a description of her brother, man indeed!, save the unicorn's solemn dignity forbore any such outburst, rather she goggled in silent wonder at the address, further puzzling the already flummoxed girl, what was she missing? But Bayard understood that he was not being addressed as a particular man, but rather as an example of Man as he ought to be, as a Unicorn was the creature as it ought to be rather than any particular specimen of that sort.

But the others soon arrived, chasing all other thoughts from her mind, everyone greeted one another most cordially, though the Pegassi had to maintain the guise and manner of senseless horses throughout, which they found vastly amusing, and all had to watch, or hold, their tongues so as not to betray their more interesting nature, indeed only the girl and the unicorn could be utterly themselves, but even the latter had to carefully word his utterances lest he reveal things that ought to remain hidden.

Of one accord, the whole company walked companionably along the familiar path usually trodden by the peculiar pair, the Pegassi following like so many faithful dogs, for though eager to speak with their cousin, they could not yet do so for the sake of the girl in their midst. Garren spoke for them all however, and all listened intently to the conversation that followed, said the unicorn as they traipsed along, "I had never thought to meet so many of you at once, but then I suppose you consider my presence here quite astonishing as well."

"Indeed," agreed Garren, "it is quite unheard of on our part, a mystery I am still trying to fathom myself, but what of yours?"

"I need the girl's help," said he, "or that of one of her blood kin. I am heartened to see that her brother is numbered among you."

"Depending upon the errand," said Garren, "we may be able to avail you or we may be completely useless in such a circumstance."

"I understand," said the unicorn, "perhaps both ought to work together, for your foes will be of various sorts?"

"I do not wish to endanger the lady," said Garren grimly, "but I do not think you would ask anything of her which was not needful and had some hope of success."

"Quite," replied he, "I would not involve the child unless I had no other option."

"What can you tell us of this adventure?" asked Garren, noting that Kaya was for the moment fully enraptured by the Pegassi, who clumped around her as if they were unweaned calves and she carried a bucket of milk.

"My daughter has abandoned our first home," said he quietly, "if this were the only evil in the mix, I would not trouble outsiders in the matter, but alas sorrow has been heaped upon sorrow, such is all too often the case in this wretched sphere. A terrible warlock has put a curse upon her, powerful he must be if he can enthrall a unicorn, even a fallen one!"

Bayard said pensively, "we met an owl upon our last quest who claimed to be an enchanted dragon, do you think it might be the work of the same villain?"

"I cannot imagine two such powerful fiends wanting to share rule of the mortal world nor long abiding one another's presence, if only out of jealousy," said the unicorn.

"What has come of your child and what know you of the villain, the spell, or the cure?" asked Garren.

"The fiend was once a mortal man, but has made some hideous bargain with the Enemy for immortality and power," said the great hearted creature sadly, "he demands I abandon our Master else my daughter will never be free, of course I could never make such a bargain, even did I trust him to keep his word. You met a dragon he reduced to an owl; my poor child is now a cat! Worse, the wretched creature blames me for both her reduced state and its continuance, since I will not do so simple a thing as she has just done and abandon that which I hold most dear!"

"And what has the girl to do with this?" asked Garren.

The great creature shook his beautiful head, "she is of the blood of this warlock, if one such was to willingly give his or her life in exchange, it will not only break the curse but destroy his power, rendering him again a mortal man and freeing all such captives."

"It is a worthy cause," said Garren, "but can we truly ask it of anyone?"

The unicorn said wretchedly, "now you understand my dilemma. She is but a child, an innocent with no part in this, how could I ask such a thing of her?"

"What about me?" queried Bayard.

Garren smiled sadly, "sorry lad, you've already laid down your life for a cause, it is not as if you can take it up again."

"Can't I?" said the boy thoughtfully, "Why not?"

Garren gaped, "one can't just abandon the Messengers lad, you must either continue in your duties, or Go! This isn't a mortal occupation wherein you can lay it aside and learn another trade if you're dissatisfied."

Persisted the boy, "is that a rule or just how things have always been done?"

"He does have a point," said the unicorn thoughtfully.

"Besides," said the boy, grinning widely, a gesture that contrasted sharply with his words, "I didn't lay my life down, it was taken from me. I was murdered in a jealous rage."

"But you willingly endured the Road," countered Garren, "thus you willingly risked your life for whatever might lie at its end."

"While this is an interesting philosophical exercise," said the unicorn, not unamused at the lad's antics and touched by his determination and concern, "is it not rather moot? Why not just ask the One who can either do as we hope or tell us that it can never be?"

"Finally!" smiled Bayard, "At least one of us has a little sense."

"He's had a few thousand more years of experience to learn wisdom than we mere men," chuckled Garren warmly, growing wistful, he added, "even if you get your wish, there's no assurance that you'll be allowed to return to this service lad."

"You'd miss me!" said the boy in pleased wonder, "Is that why you fought against my mad idea?"

"No," said Garren, wryly, "it is our duty to fight chaos and untruth wherever we find it, even be it our own insane ideas! I think He'll say no, but we can still ask."

Just then a magpie flitted out of the trees and landed before them on the stony path. The whole party drew up short and bowed politely to this innocuous seeming fowl, even Kaya, though she could not fathom why she felt it perfectly acceptable and necessary, but then she had seen and done stranger things of late, so what was one more? Said He, eyeing the unicorn, Garren, and Bayard significantly, "are you truly set on this outrageous proposition, child?"

"Yes, Sir," said Bayard, suddenly rather nervous in that austere Presence.

The little bird chuckled and set them all to smiling, perhaps even the stars to dancing in their courses above, reminding them all that He did indeed have a sense of humor, and it was far bigger and broader and far more merry than theirs, which was a mere echo or shadow of His, which was Humor itself. "Now," said He, "your philosophical arguments in favor of such an endeavor are interesting, but more so do I find your wish to help this aggrieved father and all who languish in the thrall of this dreadful mage more convincing still: you would have mercy, despite the potential cost to yourself, and that is a plea I in nowise wish to deny. As there are no strictly written rules against it, I see no reason not to grant your plea, though as your friend broached, I do not guarantee your return to this service once all is finished. Do you still wish to do as you suggest?"

Bayard nodded grimly, "I do, it must be done, no matter the cost." He smiled wistfully, "though I have found this occupation intriguing, I know it must pale in comparison to whatever awaits Beyond it."

"Well spoken," said He, "here then is what you must do."

"Do?!" said the astonished boy, "I thought You could just speak and it will be done?"

"I could," smiled He enigmatically, worse than all the cats in the world, be they all well pleased with themselves at one particular moment in time, "but that isn't how I am going to do it. Instead, you and your friends must go in quest of a certain weapon, an arrow or dagger being its most frequent guise, which alone can restore mortality to an immortal creature." Garren gaped, he had only ever heard tales of the Arrow of Discord, he had never thought to ever see it, let alone see it used upon someone he knew! Finished He, "only then may you do as you propose." The next moment He flitted off as suddenly as He had come.

"Well," said Kaya, "that was certainly a strange conversation." She glared at her brother, "since when did you learn to speak magpie?" They all shared a merry laugh at this, but as none seemed forthcoming on the meaning of the strange exchange, she resumed her attentions to the Pegassi, whom she thought the most charming horses imaginable and was determined to wheedle the use of one out of Garren somehow, but for the moment she just enjoyed their attention.

"Death," said Bayard quietly, having thought that grim concept was well and truly behind him.

"Plain and simple, lad," agreed Garren, "there may not be a 'there and back again' this time."

"But if I don't," said he with a grim shake of his head, "it is unthinkable!"

"Then we'd best be about it," said Garren.

"How do we even begin to find such a weapon?" frowned the boy.

At this, Garren actually smiled, "it seems you have much to learn about life beyond Time, lad. We'll just hop aback the Pegassi and they'll carry us to the appropriate When and Where."

"That's insane," said Bayard, grinningly adding, "I love it!" He eyed the unicorn grimly and said, "you will ward my sister until all is over?"

"It will be my honor," agreed he solemnly, "indeed, it is the least I can do in return."

"What is any effort or sacrifice of mine, compared to His on my behalf?" mused the boy in wonder, "Save your thanks for Him, not me!"

"As you wish it and as it should be," nodded that sage equine head, "but I shall gladly do as you ask, my friend."

"Let's be off then," said Garren, catching the eyes of each of the other lads and the Pegassi.

"You're leaving?!" said the girl in astonishment.

"Your friend has set us a quest, Kaya," said Bayard quietly, "a most desperate case indeed. You must remain in his care until we return successful."

She was about to protest, that she must have her part, but so solemn and grave and fervent was her brother, a mood in which she had never seen him, that she could not but do as he asked, saying wistfully, as if she sensed that suddenly things could never again be as they had been, "I will, I promise."

Tears welling in his eyes, he hugged her close, smiled sadly, and with the uncanny speed of the Pegassi, all vanished from her perception in a brilliant light, a rush of wind, and the rustle of many wings. Not knowing why, she leant deep into the unicorn's shoulder and wept, his own eyes shining with unshed tears.

"This looks like just the place to find whatever fiend currently has the weapon in his possession," said Bayard, scanning the hopeless moor about them, running flat and colorless off to the distant horizon. The Pegassi easily clove through the tangled brush that formed a vegetative sea atop a treacherous landscape of sinkholes, quicksand, and mires ready to suck an unwary traveler into their fetid depths, never to be seen more, at least upon the waking earth.

They traveled for what seemed an interminable time, beneath an overcast sky, the wind moaning out of the west, cold and bitter. At last they drew rein and gazed about them, waiting in grim anticipation, for they knew the moment was nigh. Suddenly the sound of metal clashing on metal and cries of pain and triumph filled that lonely land, for they had ridden into an ambush. The Pegassi reared and screamed, striking out at the loathsome reptilian mounts of their foes while their riders exchanged blows. The Messengers vanished in a flash of light when fatally struck, the minions of evil disappeared like black smoke on the wind with a pitiful wail. Finally only two remained, for the others had vanquished one another, the terrible reptiles falling to ash when their masters were overcome and the Pegassi vanishing after their fled riders.

Bayard circled his foe, Erian screaming his rage and disgust, while the reptilian horse wailed in its horrid voice, like some tortured thing, its fell rider laughing his pathetic nemesis to scorn. "Have you any idea what I carry, boy?" mocked the awful minion, "What I could do to you?"

Laughed the boy, unable to contain himself at the irony, "do your worst, fiend!"

The fiend laughed darkly in reply, said he in a voice most sinister, "I will, believe me!" He pulled a dagger from an unseen sheath and launched it at the boy. All Bayard knew was pain and darkness and then nothing at all.

Erian stood at his shoulder, snuffling his ear in concern. The moment the knife struck, he had vanished elsewhither, before the boy fell prone from his saddle and lay senseless in the grass. At last, Bayard roused, putting a tentative hand to his aching head before exchanging a rueful smile with the much relieved Pegassi. He gained his feet and glanced about, recognizing the hay meadow behind Garren's house. Said he, turning to his friend, "we'd best go in and talk to the others." Said he quietly, wistfully, abashedly, "I should have asked your opinion in this matter, my friend, as it is also your heart that will be grieved and not mine alone."

"Don't be ridiculous," snorted the Pegassi warmly, "you are doing what you must, as will we all in our own turn. I would in nowise disagree with your decision, no matter how it might try my heart."

Relieved, the boy smiled deeply, embraced the arching neck in thanks, and made his way into the house, the Pegassi joining his comrades at the famous window. "It is done," said Bayard to the curious gazes of his companions gathered round that unchanging table, "now what?"

"I'll accompany you, lad," said Garren proudly, but not without grief, "the Pegassi will bear us true. You lads stay here, we'll know soon enough what comes of the matter." They were on their feet in a moment, exchanging farewells and old jokes and well wishes, before Bayard tore himself away, else he never would. They left the house, found their Pegassi, and vanished in a wild flutter of radiant wings.

"The Enemy certainly does have a flare for the dramatic," remarked Bayard to Garren with a grim smile, glancing about at the dripping ruin in the dead of night.

"Or a complete lack of creativity," smiled Garren in concurrence.

Said Bayard grimly, noting the stone bier in the center of the ruined courtyard, "so I'm just to lie down and let some fiend cut my throat?"

"I'd actually prefer to stab you in the heart," hissed said fiend, "it's a little less messy, now are you going to go through with it or not?"

"Yes," said the boy, more puzzled than grim, "do you just lurk about in this wretched place waiting to kill people?"

"Certainly!" scorned the fiend, "It is a grisly business but someone needs to do it. His Grim Majesty has quite an appetite for blood magic, and if you want to accomplish something grand, you'd best be willing to give something in exchange." He glanced in wonder at Garren, "aren't you going to bind the wretch?"

Garren shrugged, "he's resigned himself to his fate."

"Very well," said the fiend, all business, "it is no affair of mine, as long as he doesn't jump off the table or go running off, that's between you and the Dread One, I'm just the guy with the knife."

They could not help but shake their heads in wonder at such inanity at such a time and place, but true to his word, the boy lay still on the slab until it became a permanent condition. "All right," hissed the villain, "take your carrion and be gone, whatever you've wrought, I'm sure it's been accomplished." Garren nodded curtly, took up the dead boy, and climbed aback his Pegassi, Erian following sadly after.

They reappeared upon the River's bank, but before he could plunge the dead Bayard into the River's depths, perhaps forever, a scornful voice cried behind him, "what are you doing with that corpse?" He turned grim eyes upon the speaker, not surprised to find nothing more grand than an orange tabby cat beside him, sitting on the grass and studying the strange scene with a supercilious smirk.

Said Garren quietly, "what would you have me do with my friend's mortal remains?"

"Not toss them in the Abyss," spaketh the cat in disgust.

Garren shook his head, "I see not the Abyss but the River."

"You're one of them, are you," hissed the cat, "no wonder you won't give the poor fool a proper burial."

Replied Garren, "for us, it is the proper thing."

"Us?" queried the cat, "Since when has your kind ever needed burial of any sort? What's wrong with him that he won't wake up to meddle endlessly in the affairs of those who would rather be left to themselves?"

"He's dead," said Garren quietly, "he gave up immortality and his very life that others might live."

"That was nice of him, I'm sure," said the indifferent felid.

"He died for you," said Garren in surprise, "are you not an enchanted unicorn?"

"His sacrifice appears vain," scoffed the cat, "forgive me if I don't jump for joy or weep in utmost sorrow. He's a failure, and worse, a dead one! He gave up Everything for Nothing! He's nothing but a fool, and a dead one at that."

"Such sacrifice is never vain," said the magpie, swooping suddenly out of the air and lighting between them, "was My death pointless, even if none chose to avail themselves of it?"

"I've made my choice," hissed the cat, "you think I will honor his sacrifice if I laugh at yours? Both appear utterly futile to me. Why bother to redeem such creatures when you could just start anew or why annoy those of us who do not wish to abide by your strictures but merely wish to live in our own way? If his sacrifice is not vain, why have I not been restored to myself?"

"Your outward appearance reflects your inward state, child," said the magpie bluntly, "this is now your natural form. The fell sorcerer and most of his other victims have been restored to what they were, but you remain what you have become, for it is a far more fitting guise than the noble facade you once wore."

"You cannot do this!" protested the cat.

"Indeed He can," countered Erian.

"What would you know of such matters?" spat the irate feline.

Erian snorted wryly, "I once wore the guise of a mortal nag, cat, for I too abandoned Paradise for what I thought was a better life, but I did not linger long in the shadows before realizing my mistake and returning to my rightful Master. Then I was partnered with a boy who counted his immortality less dear than the suffering of you and the other victims of that fiendish mage! Yet you mock him and worse, He who wrought us all?!"

"To each his own, horse!" scoffed the cat, vanishing with an irritated flick of its tail.

Garren watched morosely after, before looking curiously to his Master, wondering what next was to be done. Said that peculiar little bird, "this is a reprehensible state for one of My Messengers. It just will not do lad! Death has had its price, now let that fell specter flee far from this place so far outside its proper province!"

At His words, the murdered boy stirred, his eyes fluttering open and a sheepish grin adorning his face. "Much better," chuckled that delighted little fowl, "but look at the pair of you, blood everywhere! Almost as reprehensible a state as the boy's previous one. Into the River with you both." With a single breath, He blew them both into the River, vanishing as they were lost beneath those wondrous waters. They could not help but exchange a glorious smile before vanishing back to Garren's perpetual tea to tell the others, though they had no glad tidings for the unicorn, save that the curse had been broken but his daughter's heart was still untouched.

"Only she can change her heart," said the unicorn sadly, "at least you have freed her from the curse." They made their farewells, collected Kaya, and as they rode slowly home, having borrowed Kipril's Pegassi though the others had not accompanied them, Bayard frowned slightly, the tale suddenly minding him of his previous encounter with the owl, asked he of Garren, "our weapons cannot harm or hinder a mortal creature, but can we truly reveal our light and unmake them?"

"No," said Garren, enjoying the lad's naiveté immensely, "only those mortals, what few there be, that complete the Road, for they have strayed into eternity and thus can no longer be counted as such."

"So what of Tyne?" queried the boy.

"He's off to become King or something," said Kaya brightly, at last drawing herself away from gazing wondrously at the glorious beast upon which she sat, "but more importantly you'd best tell Kipril I'm keeping his horse."

They tried to exchange a grim look, but the preposterousness of that last statement ruined their attempt utterly, grinned Bayard in spite of himself, "what do you know about Tyne, Kaya?"

"He came storming out of Garren's house, and after speaking with those reprehensible fellows briefly, went home muttering to himself about 'fool princes' and 'I'll show them' and 'wait 'til I'm King!' and such. It was all rather melodramatic, but he packed his things and left that very night," said she, "now about this splendid beast?"

Garren could not help but smile, "you'll have to take that up with your brother's friend, lass."

"That I shall," said she with a certainty that almost made them pity the poor lad. The Pegassi could only grin in anticipation.

So it was Kaya joined their little conspiracy around Garren's tea table, crinkling her nose in disgust at his pathetic attempt at a proper social function, "you certainly need a woman's touch," protested she.

"I believe you are right," agreed he, "would you care to attempt the Road?"

"I thought you'd never ask," retorted she.

Bayard and the other boys goggled at her, her brother saying, "you knew?!"

"Of course," giggled she, "isn't that what nosy little sisters do best, spying on their far more intriguing older siblings? I'm not as distracted and naive as you assumed me to be. I don't rightly understand everything, but I know you've stumbled into something Wonderful and I want my share in the adventure."

"A woman's touch indeed!" chuckled Garren, opening that odd front door of his, "Off with you lass." She smiled a smug farewell to the yet gaping junior Messengers and vanished out the door, only to knock thereupon a moment later, at least to their perception. Grinned she, "now what?" It was Garren's turn to smile in a most unsettling manner, the moment before he released that awful, wonderful light and quite wiped the smile off her face, at least he would have had there been a face left to smile or anyone to see it.

She awoke with a start, as he dowsed her with water from his disreputable teapot, quoth she, gaining her feet, "I suppose that is one use for tepid tea." But she could say no more, for suddenly her brother and all his companions were there greeting and welcoming her amongst them in a most exuberant and satisfactory manner. Once the lot of them had regained some semblance of sanity, they looked expectantly to their temporary captain, who nodded approvingly.

His first order of business was to address his scandalous tea party, "milady, you are henceforth in charge of all social functions and culinary affairs, for the rest of us are completely hopeless in such matters."

"Quite," remarked she. Then it was on to other, more interesting business, namely addressing the plots entertained by one wayward village youth of their particular acquaintance.

"He wants to be King?" said Ithril incredulously, "Even if I am dead in his mind, there are more than enough heirs to the throne. My father has a dozen children, not to mention a bevy of royal cousins and siblings, it is ridiculous!"

Garren grinned wryly, "I never said such plots ever made a great deal of sense, and if evil never aspired to achieve the impossible, the great tragedies of the world would never be."

"I suppose we are all dreamers," mused Page, "but woe to those whose aspirations are selfish indeed."

"And woe to all those who get in their way," added Garren.

"How can we stop him?" queried Bayard, "He's still a mortal man, is he not?"

"For the moment," said Garren, smiling dangerously, "but you forget that he finished the Road."

"So we just sneak up behind him, lose control of ourselves, and that's that?" asked Bayard hopefully.

"It is never that simple or inelegant," said Garren, with a grim shake of his head, quite feigned but impressive, "six of us in one place and time is unheard of in the history of the Messengers, this plot must be grand indeed!" He could not hide his smile of anticipation, and the resulting exuberance amongst his minions was distressing indeed, at least if you were a servant of evil against whom they would soon be deployed.

"So I'm just to return home as if none of this had ever happened?" said the Prince in wonder as the entire party rode along.

"It hasn't," assured Garren, "you have yet to arrive whilst your friend and our clueless village youths impatiently await your advent that the adventure might begin in earnest."

"How very strange," marveled that ex-prince, as if his head might explode.

"You'll get used to it," grinned Garren, much enjoying the neophytes' perplexity and wonder.

Kipril frowned, "how does this strange occupation work? You've been seemingly stationed in our village for years and years, even the oldest of the village folk don't remember a time when you haven't been there, but within your house time is irrelevant, as is geography, is that what each of us has to one day look forward to?"

Garren said thoughtfully, "I don't know lad, that's been my particular assignment since time out of mind, though to me, it hasn't been all that long, whatever it's been to the outer world. You may be likewise 'stationed' in a particular locale, or you may ride whither you're needed, or a hundred other possibilities or some mix of them all. Have you not yet discovered that the one constant in this occupation is its unpredictability?"

"We're starting to understand that quite well," smiled Page wryly.

Bayard's brow furrowed in consternation, "you are saying that what has been years and years, perhaps entire generations and lifetimes to the outer world, has been nothing to you?"

"And happily so," grinned Garren, "lest I sit in my house waiting for something to happen. A man can only weed the bean patch so many years running before it drives him mad."

"It's a very good thing you don't require sustenance then," remarked his Pegassi, "else you'd starve for lack of initiative to raise your own food!"

"So much for my long and glorious career," chuckled Garren.

"It is quite a tragic tale," agreed Page

"The great cautionary example of our age," said the Prince.

"The village matrons were quite correct to name him a byword and a pariah, to be shunned by all proper folk," added Kaya.

"Your reputation is scandalous indeed," said the Pegassi, turning his beautiful head to stare at his rider with one great eye.

"I guess there's nothing for it but to Go," said Garren in feigned sadness.

"That's plagiarism," protested Bayard.

"No," said Erian, "you died for a noble cause; he's running from scandal."

"That's alright then," said the apparently mollified boy, though not much was said for a very long time thereafter, as none could contain themselves, even the usually unflappable Pegassi.

"Forgotten," muttered the disconsolate Tyne, "and after everything I've done for them all! I completed their accursed Road, I've carried their messages, but what have I gotten out of it? Nothing but threats of death and worse and then they forget me entirely, well, if that fool was good enough to be a Prince, then I'm worthy to be King." He smiled eagerly at this, not having any notion or idea of what he was about to attempt, but momentarily happy to have a goal, a dream, a direction and purpose. So off he dashed home to pack for his journey and soon thereafter vanished from the village.

Nobody was there to welcome the Prince and his party home, at least no more than a return from any minor absence required. There were the usual servants and guards, toadies and aspiring social climbers, but no dear friend or relative to say he had been missed, for to their perception it was but a few days that he had been absent, a not unusual event considering his royal duties and activities, and so his absence passed without comment or note, though to him it had been almost an age since he last saw the familiar courtyard into which they clattered. That he had acquired a considerable entourage in his absence also went without notice, save to those who might have to vie with these intruders for precedence and advantage, but to anyone not thus involved, he could have as few or many personal attendants and hangers-on as he liked.

They had discussed thoroughly upon their journey hence, when they weren't laughing like madmen, what each of their roles should be so as not to arouse suspicion or comment, unless they wanted to. Ithril might return with a score of men about him and not arouse comment, but one lady would set every tongue in the keep wagging in speculation, unless he could find a fitting role that none would question. As none of the village youths had experience at court, he must also devise a role for them that would make their bucolic ways an acceptable part of their identity and not another idiosyncrasy for idle tongues to wag over.

Garren was worldly enough, despite his otherworldly nature, or rather because of his long experience therewith, that he could comfortably don any role given to him, but what of their green companions? "I like it," said he, nodding eagerly when Ithril and Page broached their intentions as to his future role at court, "I can easily play the part and it will neatly cover the foibles that cling to my minions like burrs to a dog."

"A noble uncle and his sister's orphaned children?!" said Kaya, "Why cannot we be as noble and well bred as Page?"

"Because my silly sister never took her children to court," said Garren, as a fond but rascally uncle might, "and I have no taste for it, though for some reason our dear Prince finds my company amusing and has deigned to bring us all home with him."

"We can't give you a place amongst the servants, milady," said the Prince with a grin, "else they'd eat you alive, seeing you as competition to be trounced from the first and you have no experience with that either. This way you can still play the part of a noble-ish lady without having to know anything about the proper way to go about it."

"Good," said Kaya, "you know I was only concerned about being able to dress in all those pretty gowns and elaborate coifs, if that will be the case, then I am quite content."

Page's countenance wrinkled in disgust, "nay lady, you will soon come to abhor proper fashion as all we noble-types do. They may seem pretty and fun to those who have never worn them, but the novelty wears off quickly."

"I know," laughed she, "but you must admit I quite had you all!"

"She did at that," grinned Bayard wryly, "but now that I consider it, we of all people are least concerned with our wardrobe!"

"Of course lad," grinned Garren, "we must play many roles throughout our long and variable careers, our clothes, not to mention our faces and other physical characteristics, are merely an extension of our role, mutable at need and no more difficult than a simple thought."

"So I could imagine myself into something both pretty and comfortable?" asked Kaya skeptically.

"Miracles are routine in this business, my dear," smiled Garren.

Page laughed greatly, "that would be miracle indeed, my friend!"

So it was they clattered into the courtyard without pomp or circumstance, as was only proper for one of the lesser Princes and his companions, the least of all nobles. Said Page in quiet amusement to his friends, "finally I will outrank somebody at court."

"At least we are ignorant enough not to know the difference," said Kaya.

"But you shall not remain so for long," said Garren, "watch and learn, for one day you may need to play the part and play it well."

"Certainly," said Bayard with a grin, "we clueless villagers may not understand urbanity quite yet, but we know full well what an apprenticeship is." His grin became wry, "though I previously thought it pertained only to craftsmen."

"Have absolutely no expectations about this mad profession," said Page wryly, "and you'll never be proven wrong!"

"Hush you lot," said the Prince, "you carry on like villagers on a market day. The first rule of the court is that no one has a sense of humor, save in a cruel or insipid sense. None can comprehend true wit or the great jokes, they can only laugh at the crude, the miserable, and the downfall of others."

"I believe I've quite had my fill of court," sigh Kaya in disgust.

"Excellent, milady," said the Prince, "that was a perfect imitation of the perfectly courtly lady."

"Horrid thought indeed!" retorted she.

Page valiantly quashed a grin, "she's quite a natural!"

"Though I fear there's no hope for them," sighed Kaya, eyeing Bayard and Kipril, who were glancing about with all the obvious bewilderment and cluelessness of a pair of market lambs fresh from the pasture.

"That's what happens when you bring your yokel cousins to town," said Garren with a knowing shake of his head.

"Some might count it a kindness," said Page sadly.

"To whom?" said Kaya in wonder.

"I'm not sure," frowned the Prince thoughtfully.

"In truth it is kind to no one," agreed Page, "but certain schools of thought assert that it must be so."

"Irksome to both the visitor and the visited," agreed Garren, "it is certainly a sound philosophical and psychological principle then: helpful to no one but the guy who coined the theory and foisted it upon unsuspecting society." They all wished to laugh at the very truth of this, but sadly they had already learned one basic lesson of life at court.

"Excellent, my friends, excellent," said the Prince wistfully, "you've taken your first step towards becoming right and proper courtiers."

"How dreadful," said Bayard glumly.

"It is indeed," agreed Page.

Just then a servant approached the Prince, bowed, and handed him a letter. The boy took the missive and the man bowed himself away from the Prince and his outlandish guests, eager to tell what he had seen or could invent to anyone who would listen. "It seems I am to be married in a fortnight to some foreign Princess or other," said Ithril, his brow furrowed in concern, not surprised that his father had arranged a marriage for him but rather wondering how to handle the situation considering his rather interesting nature.

Garren smiled wickedly, "I would give you my heartiest felicitations Sire, save that this unanticipated event means we'll likely have to engineer your demise in the very near future."

"Which is only as it should be," said Page in approbation, "you have quite missed your calling as a cornerstone of the court, sir."

"Thank the Master for that!" said Garren in relief.

"Now if only Tyne would get here so we can end his plots before enacting our own," said Kipril, all eagerness.

"They are learning with alacrity," said Page to his royal friend.

"A pity it must be the ways of evil," sighed the Prince in mock disgust, "just yesterday they were chasing chickens in innocent glee and the next they are plotting murder."

"Is not one good practice for the other?" queried Page, all seriousness.

"Are you saying most courtiers are as mindless as barnyard fowl?" asked the Prince in astonishment.

"No Sire," corrected his friend, "only that the movements and plots of both make about as much sense to the uninitiated."

"In that you are quite correct," agreed the Prince, perhaps a little too thoughtfully.

"But was it the poultry that learnt it from the court or vice versa?" asked Kipril curiously.

"That is one of the Great Questions that we must leave to the philosophers, lad," said Garren solemnly, "though it seems you children aren't so ignorant in the ways of the court after all, knowing what you do of the social mores of the hen house."

"Is that the second law of court?" asked Kaya, "All lesser or weaker fowl will be pecked to death?"

"It is indeed milady," said the Prince sadly, "it is indeed." By now they had arranged with the Steward for rooms for the Prince's companions and had all gathered in his little study to further discuss matters, such as they were.

Said Kaya miserably, "and here I thought it would be fun to play the noble lady!"

"Only the sort of lady that lives in a young village lass' imagination," smiled Page sadly, "most of the real sort make your meanest hen seem agreeable by comparison."

"At least he gets to be fashionably murdered," said Bayard, "what of the rest of us?"

"I doubt you'll long survive at court without my favor," said the Prince, "you'll likely run for your lives the very moment you've been deprived of such protection as my standing brings."

"If we had any sense we'd flee now," said Bayard.

"Chickens, remember," said Page.

Smiled the boy ruefully, "forget I said anything about sense."

"We'd best go make our appearance," said the Prince grimly, even more so than at any point upon their journey together upon that oddest of all Byways, "we can't counter a plot at court if you're not an accepted part of it."

"How can Tyne find a place then?" asked Kaya with a pensive frown.

"He or his evil associates will undoubtedly think of something," said Garren, "but come, we had best go reserve our own." With that, they all made their first appearance, though every eye was surreptitiously upon them, no one deigned to make their acquaintance.

Afterwards, Kipril remarked wryly, "well that was exciting."

"You yokels certainly have strange ideas of what life must be like amongst the Kingdom's elite," smiled Page, "indeed, it would be far better were it as romantic and lovely as your idle musings make it."

"If not in this world," mused the Prince wistfully, "then perhaps in the next!"

"Easy lad," smiled Garren in commiseration, "you've only just begun."

The boy shook his head and smiled ruefully, "quite, what was I thinking!" Growing serious he added, "though I believe I have an appointment to keep!" With that, he vanished in a flash of light, but court manners were not the only thing the little company was quickly growing used to, indeed they merely exchanged a knowing grin and continued their conversation as if he had left the room in a more seemly fashion.

Ithril found himself strolling about the palace gardens at an hour when all sensible people were long abed, meaning most of the courtiers were still up, involved in their various plots, scheming, and intrigues, though none were wandering that tame little wilderness at such an unfashionable hour.

"Highness?!" said the very captain of the King's Guard to the feral Prince suddenly discovered in his path.

"Captain," said the Prince with the proper formalities, and as it was his duty and right to speak first, Ithril added, "you seem troubled?"

"I am," said the man, eyeing the boy speculatively, for such a conversation between two such people was considered, if not impossible, then at least quite scandalous by most of the great social philosophers of the day, but then what did they know?

"Tell me about it," said the Prince, as if he were no such thing, as they began to pace the verdant enclosure together, as if they were merely two village lads in deep council upon some minor mischief.

"Something is brewing, Sire," began the guardsman.

"No such formality is required at the moment," grinned the Prince, "for even the most scandal thirsty old social matron could hardly see who is talking to whom at such a place and time."

"Quite," grinned the man in agreement, sobering he added, "but it is nothing to which I can put a name, merely a feeling of uneasiness, of disquiet anticipation." He sighed heavily, "a feeling I've learned to trust over the years, no mere hunch as it were."

"What is your true occupation, sir?" queried the Prince suddenly.

"Excuse me, Sire?" said the guard in complete bafflement, forgetting to forget his formality in his surprise.

"You've been the Captain of my father's Guards for as long as I can remember," mused the boy, "and rumor holds you to have been so even longer than that, yet here you are still vital and active at an age when most men have declined to the point of dotage."

"You see much lad," said the Captain dangerously, "the question is what are you going to do with your observations?"

"What could you do to stop me?" countered the Prince in rising excitement.

"Merely appeal to your noble heart," said the Captain in growing disappointment at either the lad's sudden change of heart or his complete misjudgment thereof.

"You are disappointed in me?!" said the boy in sudden wonder.

"Let us just say I saw something in you not commonly found in those of your rank and station, but I fear I have grossly misjudged," said the man quietly.

The boy's easy laugh quite disarmed the perplexed soldier, as the Prince continued, "fear not, Captain, I believe we are on the same side here, if not of the same curious occupation. I can no more use my suspicions against you than you could hinder me in the use thereof."

The man smiled delightedly and said with a broad smile, "I am glad not to have misjudged you Sire, and let me be the first to welcome you Home! May I ask how this was accomplished?"

The boy shook his head in wonder, "and it isn't just me, the entire party with whom I returned are thus afflicted!"

"Gracious?!" said the stymied Guard, "Then I believe disaster is looming indeed, for whoever heard of such a gathering of our kind? What know you of this?"

The boy grinned in disbelief, "there is a distraught village youth coming this way, determined to be King."

"That's it?" said the Captain in wonder, "Seven of the Messengers to deal with one idealistic villain no older than you?!"

"I didn't say it made any sense to me," grinned the boy, "but does anything in this profession ever make sense, at least at the first?"

"No," agreed the guard, "what more can you tell me of this villain?"

"He has finished the Road, quite unsuccessfully," said the Prince, "and has had a few dealings with our perennial foes."

"That explains a little," mused the Captain, "but I fear we'll have to wait to know the full tale."

"As ever we must," sighed the boy in sudden impatience.

"Easy lad," grinned the Captain, like a scampish youth himself, "someday you'll learn to forget about marking time like a mortal man, but rather treat it like a fish does water: something you don't notice until you've suddenly been pulled out of it."

"And in which I can swim about as I will?" queried the boy with a delighted smile.

"See," said the guard happily, "you're learning already!"

The next morning found a florid invitation awaiting Kaya's immediate acceptance, she looked quizzically to their host as to its meaning, and Ithril grinningly apprised her of the situation, "my youngest sister is just come of age, indeed, we shall celebrate that event along with my own engagement to a foreign princess at a ball three days hence. And as there are so many royal sisters, and each must be properly attended by a requisite number of ladies, we have quite used up all the available ladies-in-waiting in the realm, thus she is rather desperate to find even one for herself, which happily you have been ordered to supply."

Page smiled delightedly, "there you are milady, your royal dreams are fulfilling themselves! A real lady-in-waiting, every shepherdess' dream I am sure?"

"Quite," said Kaya pensively, "though there is probably far more to the matter than making my childhood fantasies a reality, there always is in this business."

"The children are growing up!" quipped Garren proudly.

"And a very good thing it is," said Bayard quietly, "for this is no business for children! With so many of us stationed here, things will be very dangerous indeed!"

"Speaking of which," said Ithril, "the Captain of my father's Guard is numbered amongst us." He eyed Kaya curiously, "and as my royal sister no doubt is planning some unsanctioned adventure, knowing her age and personality, you might want to ask him to come along as part of her requisite retinue."

"She takes after you then?" smiled Kaya archly.

"Indeed!" laughed Page brightly, before they all joined in, even the feignedly insulted Prince.

"What has happened?!" repined the former evil mage, now just another common man.

"They broke your power," hissed an orange tabby cat perched in a tree above, though whether her ire was directed at himself, the unspecified them, or both, he knew not.

"Who? What know you of this, cat?" demanded Bayard's great uncle thrice over.

"For the right price," purred that cunning feline, "perhaps my tongue shall loosen?"

"What is it you want?" scowled he.

"Do you not remember me?" yowled she.

He shrugged indifferently, "I've cursed so many over the years there are few who stand out as significant. Besides, shouldn't you be free now that my power is broken?"

"There have been complications," spat the cat, "and that is the price of my information. I should be a unicorn!"

"Ah!" said he in wicked anticipation, "If you help me restore my power and have revenge on my enemies, then I shall restore you to your proper form?"

"Yes," mewed the cat in equal excitement."

But his face fell as he said, "but it would take willing blood to reverse my power, which means the person responsible is already dead and thus beyond revenge!"

"Not in this case," smiled the cat wickedly, "you can have your revenge and gain back your power in one fell swoop!"

"How is this to be accomplished?!" demanded he, and as she told him, he answered, "but can the wretch not just repeat the cycle, world without end?"

"You must make it such a painful experience that he would not dare!" insisted she, "So terrible that you drive him from this world forever!"

"You are a most cunning villain, cat!" said he with a shudder, "And coming from me, that is compliment indeed!" She preened under his praise before they got down to plotting their revenge and the return of their power.

"A bachelor uncle?!" said a crusty minor lordling to Garren as they puttered about the wide lawns after breakfast, "I wish I could have attained such glorious freedom! But most of us must marry out of necessity, what with the want of heirs, wealth, power, political alliances, title and such, few of us can afford not to!"

"I've always been a little eccentric," smiled Garren, "which I believe is requisite in such a circumstance!"

"Indeed," agreed the other, "now what do you bucolic bachelors do for fun?"

"Weed the bean patch?" quipped Garren.

"Eccentric indeed!" laughed his companion uproariously, "I suppose you've even had an adventure or two?"

"Quite," agreed Garren.

"Perfect!" replied he, "Would you care for another?"

"Certainly," said Garren, all ears.

"So we're just going to wander around town waiting for adventure to pounce?" asked Kipril of Bayard as they wended through the streets at their leisure.

"Yes," said Bayard distractedly, as if sensing something wicked that way came but unable to put the feeling into words, but as someone stabbed him in the back and he collapsed into darkness, even speaking became impossible so the point became rather moot.

"Not again!" said Kipril in surprise as his friend was attacked and borne swiftly off into the milling crowds, but in his shock he did not miss a brief flash of orange that minded him much of a certain accursed cat. Now what was that wretched feline up to? His heart sank as a dreadful thought came into his mind. He dashed off to find Garren, hopefully the man had an idea of what to do!

Kipril found him in the stable yard, just mounting a rather portly pony, or rather a Pegassi portraying one of the roly-poly, diminutive beasts. He glanced uneasily at the small crowd of equally portly middle-aged nobles astride their own horses of similar make. Garren immediately sensed his junior's unease and asked carefully, "you seem upset lad?"

Catching his mentor's caution, Kipril said judiciously, "someone has kidnapped Bayard."

"We were just setting out on an adventure," said Garren dryly, "but perhaps this is an even more pressing quest?"

His companions started a discussion amongst themselves, whether the missing nephew or their original plans were of the utmost import, but at last the party agreed to disagree as their spokes-noble said, "it seems we must postpone our original outing, for none is bold enough to lead in your absence, and while we are certainly overbold and audacious to be attempting even that, most of us are not willing to go on such a dangerous quest for such an unseemly personage as a nephew is like to be." With that, all but one of the rotund fellows called to the servants to help in unhorsing them, leaving only Garren's original companion, Lord Snew.

"Mount up lad," said Garren to Kipril and then turning to the eager lordling, he said, "would you mind switching horses, milord?"

His lordship stared at the nearly exact replica of his own mount that Erian currently portrayed, and said quizzically, "what is wrong with my current mount?"

"I'm afraid he won't be able to keep up with our own," said Garren wryly, "though they could be twins, the poor creature just hasn't the heart of the other."

"As this is a real adventure," mused he, "I suppose it wouldn't be quite the thing to be left behind upon a laggardly beast, but you are sure?"

"Quite," said Garren, hiding his smile as his lordship went about the laborious business of dismounting and remounting, more exercise than he routinely had in a week! But at last they were off, Erian seeming to know innately where his missing rider happened to be, thus allowing his lordship to unwittingly lead the quest.

Bayard awoke with a groan, certain he had been struck by that wretched knife once more, and nearly panicked to find himself bound fast to a flat topped stone with an evilly grinning man and an orange tabby cat looking triumphantly upon him. He recognized the cat but who was this strange man?

"An excellent question young man," said the villain, "know you not your own family tree?"

"Oh," said the boy in dejection, "you're that missing uncle three generations back that went into black sorcery. I suppose you're looking for revenge and to get your power back? But what is to keep us from repeating this cycle until the end of time?"

"Is that really all you want to do with your life?" said he in wonder that one of his own blood kin could be so insipid.

"If it keeps you from wreaking havoc in the wide world," said Bayard, "so be it!"

The villain smiled horridly, "I'm certainly not going to desist, boy, but neither am I patient enough to endure such a cycle, world without end, rather I'm going to make this so painful that you will Go, unable to endure round after round of such endless torture!"

Bayard shuddered in dread, but said staunchly, "no, I will endure what I must to keep your evil at bay."

"We'll see who has the right of it," smiled the fiend most maliciously, picking up his knife to begin, the cat looking smugly on.

"Not so fast," came a dreadful voice, "up to your old tricks I see!" They all looked in wonder upon the great dragon that had seemingly fallen straight out of the sky and landed in the midst of the grim little clearing. The creature bared all its teeth at Bayard, he thought it might be an attempt at a friendly smile, which its words confirmed, "I must thank you lad for freeing me of that wretched enchantment, but I'm afraid I will ill repay your kindness for I must immolate the lot of you."

"By all means," said Bayard eagerly, "you will quite be returning the favor."

"Indeed?!" said the dragon brightly, before loosing that deadly flame, reducing them all to ashes. Just then three men rode up, two aback the most ridiculous looking ponies the reptile had ever seen, but they stood their ground as stolidly as a trained warhorse for all of that. Though the same could not be said of the riders, for the nobleman took one look at the dragon and fainted dead away, leaving the Messengers and dragon to exchange a vast grin, as the dragon said to Kipril, "do you recognize me lad?"

"No," said the boy, "but I've never met a dragon before, unless..."

"Yes," grinned he, all teeth, "I was that owl formerly of your acquaintance and have just rid the world of that dreadful mage once and for all, though I fear your friend suffered a like fate."

Erian unveiled himself, replacing that shaggy, pudgy pony with something very different indeed, snorted he in delight, "what is that to the likes of us? You aren't the only one who wasn't himself on that interminable journey."

Garren dismounted and approached the smoking debris, asking of the dragon, "where was the boy?" He approached the stone slab on which there remained only a blackened stain and a dusting of ash, and touching it with a glowing hand, there came a flash and there sat Bayard, smiling brightly at all of them. He leapt immediately from his perch and exchanged eager greetings with them all, even the dragon.

"Did you get the cat?" queried he of the reptile, once his delight in escaping such a grim fate was satisfied.

"No," said the dragon, "it is almost impossible to kill a cat with dragon fire, they are too quick, nimble, and seem to know ahead of time that something is going to happen. I was after the mage and you were just collateral damage; the cat slunk off the moment I landed."

"Do you know the fate you spared me?" said the boy, before regaling them with the horrid tale.

The dragon said in wonder, "I am quite the hero it seems, when once I thought to be the villain! And I quite enjoy the sensation, I'll have to think long upon what I shall do with the rest of my life. Thanks for the adventure lads!" With a knowing wink, he lofted himself into the air and was soon lost to sight.

Garren smiled brightly at Bayard and said, "it is good to have you back lad!"

"Glad am I to be restored to you," laughed he in relief and delight, and grinning at his prone lordship, he asked, "what of him?"

"Do you suppose he's had adventures enough?" quipped Kipril, but eyeing Garren he asked, "What were you originally in quest of before I intruded with my own emergency?"

"They thought to attempt the Road," grinned Garren in wonder.

"Yet he faints at sight of a dragon?" frowned Bayard.

"And most of them gave up at the mere thought of going without a guide or thinking to pursue a needful quest!" protested Kipril.

"I never said it was wise," laughed Garren, "only that I would accompany them for as long as I was allowed."

"But he did accompany you in pursuit of me," mused Bayard, "does that not show some courage and faithfulness on his part, especially in one accustomed to such a life as he has led?"

"It does indeed," said Garren in wonder, "if he still wants to go, I'll encourage him to do just that!"

He roused the man with his glowing hand, and Lord Snew was immediately glancing about in confusion and wonder. "I'm alive!" said he, "And unsinged, and so are you! What of the dragon? And is this your lost nephew too?"

"I'm afraid you missed the adventure completely, my friend," chuckled Garren warmly, "but if you'd still like to attempt the Road, I'd be happy to send you forth upon it, though there are a few things you must know first..." His lordship was more than happy to set off, though disappointed that his shaggy little pony was needed to bear the kidnapped nephew safely back to the castle after his trying day, but he understood, and after many a wistful farewell, he set forth boldly thereupon.

Erian snorted in wonder as Bayard climbed aback the stunned Pegassi, "to think such an insipid creature would have the heart to attempt the Road!"

"Miracles do happen, my friend," laughed Bayard, "for such were not we? But for His grace and mercy, there'd be no hope for any of us." They exchanged a wondering glance before heading home.

The cat sat high amid the foliage of a great tree that towered over the clearing, her tail lashing in fury, what must she do to have her revenge on the horrid creatures? "I can avail you, madam," squawked a terrifying raven, "for indeed, our goals align quite nicely in this matter." She could only grin in anticipation as she cowered in utter terror.

Kaya was introduced to the youngest Princess that very morning at breakfast, and was immediately taken into her service of the silly young thing. "Let's have an adventure," said the girl bluntly, when she had finished her toast.

"What do you propose?" asked Kaya.

"An outing to a tavern outside the city," said the girl boldly, as if suggesting a raid upon a dragon's hoard.

"We'll leave immediately," grinned Kaya, "I'll inform the Captain."

"Guards?!" squawked the Princess, "This will never do!"

"Your father insists," said Kaya, "and I will not accompany you with less than two men!"

"Very well," sulked she, "but it seems rather ridiculous."

"We must do our duty regardless of how we personally feel in the matter, milady," said Kaya, valiantly squashing a grin, as she curtsied herself out to fetch the Captain.

Said he in delight to make her acquaintance, "well met milady, I very much look forward to meeting your entire party. It is a regular reunion! It seems you do quite well in managing our wayward youngest Princess."

"I do have younger sisters," grinned she, "it is much the same." And forestalling his question she added, "and as my curious nature makes any sort of physical punishment impossible, neither do I fear her rank and what she might feel free to do because of it."

"Most excellent, milady!" laughed he, "I'll find a reliable man and we'll be waiting to accompany you." She smiled in farewell and dashed off to fetch her charge, already having made the other necessary arrangements.

Once they were in their saddles and well away from prying ears, the guardsmen riding at a respectful distance behind them, Kaya asked the sulky princess, "just what are you up to milady?"

Perking up at this chance to conspire together, said she brightly, hoping her handmaiden wasn't some miserable, stick-in-the-mud aunt in disguise, "there's a ball coming up and I don't even have a fiancé!"

"Isn't that what balls are for?" queried Kaya with a frown, "Falling in love, meeting people, that sort of thing?"

"But the real stories have the clueless princess meeting someone before the ball and then it is at that pivotal event that everything is revealed and happily ever after is attained," corrected she.

Kaya could not help but laugh, "I suppose you do have a point, but are you sure you want to fall in love with the occupant of a seedy tavern? Are there not better places to linger in hopes of meeting a man of character?"

"Who needs character as long as he is handsome?" countered she. Kaya was about to reply to this nonsensical statement, but her attention was immediately drawn to another matter entirely, for there in the road surrounding them were three fell things and a dozen skeletal soldiers. Kaya caught the Captain's stony gaze, he nodded in understanding, and she loosed that dreadful light. When it receded, the monsters for a moment blinded by the awful radiance, only the Princess and the quivering guardsman remained.

"Nice try!" spat the foremost fiend, "But I know your tricks of old, ghosts!" He struck at the seemingly terrified lady with his black blade, and as it grazed her arm, a flash of that deadly light betrayed she was not who she appeared to be.

Kaya allowed her visage to shift back to the face to which she had been born, as did the ruefully grinning Captain. "Now what?" said she.

"We'll try another tack," smiled the fiend cruelly, "have no fear of that!" And in a puff of smoke and a flash of darkness, they were gone.

"What of our outing?" asked Kaya of the Captain.

He shrugged, and with a glowing hand, summoned back the missing members of their party, none the wiser they had for a moment vanished and blinking to see that they were not surrounded on all sides by enemies. Thinking it only a momentary fancy on their part, they smiled ruefully at themselves and swiftly put it out of their minds, eager once more for the quest set them.

At last they arrived at the specified inn, a not too disreputable place, at least on a sunny afternoon, but they certainly would not allow the Princess to remain there after dark. Kaya dismounted first and hastened into the inn, the guardsman close on her heels, leaving the Captain to watch the Princess for a moment, until both emerged nodding, it was safe for their charge to proceed upon this most intriguing adventure to actually sit at table in a common common room, as if one was naught but a peasant eager for a cool mug of ale to sate one's thirst before the next round of haying must commence. As the girl entered the inn, Kaya and the guardsman attended her to the chosen table, while the Captain loitered about outside, just to make sure no unsavory characters decided to take advantage of the situation. He might not be able to harm a single hair on a mortal head, but any would-be louts didn't know that!

Or so he thought, but as an obvious villain came striding up to the front door, he made to intercept the boy, but Tyne only grinned insolently at him and quite literally marched right through him. Scoffed a familiar fiend, "I told you I would figure something out, ghost!"

"It is not as if my guardsman is so importuned!" retorted he.

"Perhaps not in a physical sense, but that nonsensical girl will certainly order him away!" sneered the villain in utmost delight.

"You do have a point," sighed the Captain, his hand dropping from his sword hilt, "but perhaps sense shall yet prevail!"

The thing could not help but chuckle at the Captain's continued inanity, "why are you wretches so enamored with hopeless causes?"

"Occupational hazard," grinned the Captain ruefully, as they both stood in the doorway to watch what was to come.

Kaya sat at her lady's table while the guardsman stood quietly near the backdoor, able to watch the whole room and intercept any incoming guest who might enter thereby. He glanced questioningly at his Captain as the insolent youth entered, intent on joining the lady. He nodded minutely and the boy hastened towards the interloper, but the Princess waved him off, saying bluntly, "no, no, how am I to meet anyone if you chase all comers away? This will be a dreadfully dull quest if I see none but you!"

Tyne sniffed disdainfully at Kaya and brazenly sat beside the Princess without so much as a nod of greeting or a word of introduction. The girl could only gape at his bold impertinence as a pleased smile grew on her lips. Said he with a teasing smile, "come away with me lady, and find adventure indeed!"

"Certainly not," said she dismissively, "rather you must accompany me! Why would a Princess elope with a no-name peasant? You must come home with me and become a Prince!"

"A much more sensible idea," said he avariciously, "little did I realize your own importance, milady!"

"There is a ball two nights hence," persisted she, "and you must come!"

"I would be delighted," agreed he, "shall I accompany your party home?"

"That would be most agreeable," nodded she, "now tell me all your tale, if you have stories as bold as yourself, I shall find you a most delightful companion indeed! I've done nothing but learn to dance and sew my whole life, but now that I am going to come of age, I mean to change all that and have adventure after adventure. The first order of business of course is to marry an adventurer to thus avail me, are you such a man?"

"Quite," smiled he rakishly, "I have even ventured down the Road!" He eyed Kaya scornfully as the Princess squeaked in delight, demanding the tale be told that moment, an order with which he happily complied. Though the story was hardly the adventure the others had regaled Kaya with, indeed, he was quite the hero of the epic, outshining his cowardly companions as much as the sun the lesser stars, and assuring her that upon reaching its end, he was declared a hero and warrior ever after, certain to become a legend in his own right.

"And now I've added the necessary bit of romance to the tale," squealed she in pure ecstasy. She eyed Kaya eagerly and said, "isn't he wonderful?"

"Certainly a wonderful teller of tales, milady," said Kaya boldly, "but a liar and bully for all of that."

"What would you know of the matter, wench?" demanded he, "Your brother couldn't even survive the Road!"

"But I have," said she bluntly, "and I have it on excellent authority that your own behavior thereupon was hardly exemplary."

"Please do not impugn my fiancé!" said the Princess in growing ire, "Lest you find yourself headless for your trouble!"

"Truly?!" said the shocked Kaya, "When you know so little of his character or background?"

"What matters that?" scoffed the girl, "He's handsome, bold, and I like him, what else matters?"

"Your father's opinion?" countered Kaya.

The girl laughed outright at this, "I'm his youngest daughter, whatever I desire is his greatest pleasure to approve of! With seven daughters to marry off, he'll be very glad to have one so easily disposed of!"

"But marriage is a serious commitment," protested Kaya, "you will rue it your entire life!"

"I've never met anyone who let their spouse interfere with their happiness?" said the girl in perplexity, "it is merely a business obligation and nothing more! I will hear no more of this or anything remotely negative about my beloved, now be silent and let us listen to more of his tales."

"As you wish, milady," said Kaya gravely, bowing herself from the conversation to have one of her own with the Captain. She blinked in surprise to find him in the company of the fiend that had earlier importuned their party.

"Is it not as I said?" triumphed that fell specter.

"She declares she is engaged to the villain!" said she in astonishment.

"Good luck, ghosts!" chortled the villain, lock rotting bones falling to dust, before vanishing in a black flash.

"Perhaps the guardsman could challenge him to a duel?" proposed the Captain grimly.

"Or we could hire assassins," laughed Kaya at the very absurdity of the notion.

"You're right!" sighed the Captain, smiling ruefully at his own suggestion, "We can do nothing of the sort."

Just then Garren and his two companions rode up and joined the conversation, "what are you two gawking at?" asked he, looking into the inn and grimacing to see the young Princess' new friend.

"She is determined they are engaged," said Kaya bluntly.

"And I suppose she is completely dissuaded by reason?" asked Garren grimly.

"Exactly," sighed Kaya, "she's determined to have an adventure and has decided Tyne is it, for has he not survived the Road?"

Garren smiled slightly as an idea suddenly occurred to him, "wouldn't she rather have an adventure than marry one?"

"She just might at that," grinned Kaya, dashing back into the common room and rejoining her lady, the two boys following silently after, Tyne's jaw dropping slightly to be joined by what could only be more ghosts.

"Who are your companions?" asked the Princess eagerly, her frustration forgotten amidst more of Tyne's outlandish stories and anticipating even more adventure from these newcomers.

"The lady's brother and his dear friend," said Kipril with a gracious bow, before further introductions and a request that they might join her party, a stark contrast to Tyne's behavior. She blushed prettily and glanced at her so-called beloved askance, perhaps it was not too late to break off the engagement?

"Get out of here!" snarled Tyne, "Who invited you to this party?"

"I did!" snapped the Princess, "Forget I said anything about an engagement, you overbold cad!"

"I won't be treated like this," hissed Tyne dangerously.

"Get used to it," sniffed she disdainfully, "I'm a Princess!"

"You'd replace me with these ghosts?" growled he.

"They seem lively enough to me," laughed the insipid girl, "perhaps my lady is correct in that your stories are mere fiction, how ever much I might enjoy them! Perhaps I might keep you around as my personal bard but certainly not as a husband! Unless you are willing to prove yourself upon such a quest? Would you try the Road again?"

Tyne shuddered, but glaring at those grinning ghosts, he said bluntly, "by all means, Highness! I'll show you who is the strongest, boldest, wisest, and most courageous of us! I shall prove beyond doubt that I am the man most deserving of your hand were you to search the whole world over!"

The Princess turned astonished eyes upon Kaya and asked skeptically, "no chiding, no warnings, no nay-saying?"

Kaya shrugged, "who am I to say you cannot venture thereupon when I have done so myself. I will caution you about the journey, as all ought to be forewarned ere they tread it, but I will not hinder you in such an endeavor. It is dangerous, sometimes lethal, but there is a great treasure to be found at its end by all who remain faithfully thereupon; ware of the many tricks and traps set to lure you from it. And most of all, to find what lurks at its furthest end, you must come humbly, seeking only the Master and His will, and nothing else."

"Those old nursery tales our nurse told endlessly?" said she in surprise, "You tell me they are true?!"

Kaya grinned brightly, nearly rivaling the sun in her joy, "quite."

"Very well," said the girl, "that smile alone is worth any trouble on my part to achieve! Let us be off this moment, if such can be contrived? And you will tell me again all I must know of such matters?"

"Certainly," said Kaya, "we shall happily avail you on both counts."

"Might I come too?" asked the guardsman, Tobin by name, who had been listening to the conversation intently, though the others had quite overlooked his presence and attention.

"I don't see why not," said the Princess dryly, "but let us be off before the innkeeper and that cat on the hearthrug also decide to join our party."

"It's too late for that!" spat the cat, "I'm coming too!" The Messengers each grasped at their sword hilts as the tabby ambled up, feeling something dreadful emanating from the innocuous looking creature.

"A talking cat!" said the Princess in delight, "This shall be an adventure after all!"

"As it seems you are well defended, milady," said the Captain to the Princess, "I'll return to the palace." He saluted his guardsman and said proudly, "off with you lad!" The boy grinned brightly and followed the others out the backdoor and out onto the Road. The Captain turned to Garren and shook his head in wonder, "what are those children about?"

"An adventure indeed!" chuckled he in reply, "I wonder if they'll stumble across Lord Snew?" At the Captain's puzzled look, Garren told him all the tale as they rode back to the city.

"I can't believe you are engaged!" said Page to the pseudo-Prince as they finished breakfast that day.

Ithril frowned slightly, "you mean that my father sprung this on me without notice or my more curious occupation?"

"The latter of course," said Page archly, "I would expect nothing else from your father!"

"I'm sure we'll come up with something before the wedding," said Ithril conversationally, "even if you must publicly murder me the hour before we take our vows."

"That's gauche and certainly out of character," sniffed Page disdainfully.

Ithril laughed heartily, "you're quite right, sir, you'd poison me and none would be able to call you the culprit, if they could even discover your villainy instead of blaming it on the apoplexy or some such."

"I hear the gout is rather acute and lethal this year," smiled Page villainously.

"That is certainly reassuring," sighed the longsuffering ex-princeling, but further banter was prevented by the advent of an anxious servant bowing himself into their midst, declaring eagerly, "your bride's party is just arrived, Sire, they are dismounting this very moment in the courtyard!"

"At this hour?" said the Prince in surprise, standing in preparation to go down and greet the party.

"They arrived late and stayed in the city last evening, Sire," said he, "rather than disturb their hosts at such an unseemly hour."

Ithril smiled in pleased delight at their courtesy, and catching Page's eye, they hastened down to meet the newcomers, the servant dashing before them like a happy spaniel intent on showing the way, even though they knew it quite well. It was a small party, composed of four guardsmen, the Princess, and her foremost handmaiden. The Prince himself arrived in time to help her from her horse. She smiled her thanks and allowed herself to be ushered out into the gardens, where she was seated in a charming little pavilion and served a late breakfast, for the weather was delightful and far superior to any stuffy parlor or sitting room.

"Welcome milady," said Ithril brightly, "I hope your journey was not difficult or unpleasant?"

"It was a mere trifle," said she, studying him intently with her too keen eyes, "at least compared to others I have taken of late."

"Yes?" said he, his curiosity piqued.

She smiled patiently at him, and raised a skeptical brow in question, "I am sure you are merely being polite, you could not possibly be interested in such tedious events as the travels of a fourth daughter of a minor King?"

"You might be surprised," grinned Ithril wryly, "besides, who is to say I do not wish to bore you in my own turn with such tawdry tales?"

"Fair is fair, I suppose," said she archly, but her face fell as she said, "I like you very much, Highness, but I also see you are not a man to be trifled with, as I appreciate the absolute truth, so do I suspect do you. I cannot marry you, no matter what our fathers say."

Ithril blinked in astonishment but could not hide a dry smile, said he quietly, "upon what strange journey have you recently had difficulty, milady?"

"The Road," whispered she in growing eagerness.

"A fell path indeed," nodded he, and settling back comfortably in his chair, he added with a wide grin, "and you have saved me the trouble of being fabulously murdered to prevent our forbidden union."

Page interrupted, shaking his head gravely, "nay Sire, we still do not know how matters will play out, only that the lady is as hindered in this endeavor as we are."

"Quite right, my friend," sighed Ithril, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his hands, "we too have been upon the Road, milady and find ourselves in like straits." His grin widened, "and there are already a number of us in residence here, I wonder what disaster is brewing that we need so many swords!"

Her eyes narrowed as she too leaned forward, intrigued, "if we are both then of this persuasion, would there be anything preventing this so-called union upon which our fathers insist? While binding to mortal folk, such vows can mean nothing to us, save perhaps as a part we must play in whatever is to come?"

"Certainly an intriguing idea," said Page, his brow furrowed pensively, "perhaps we should consult a more veteran Messenger?"

"Fetch them both," said the Prince. Page dashed off, but finding both the Captain and Garren otherwise occupied at that particular moment, he withdrew to an abandoned room and summoned them both from a less pressing time or place, they grinned widely at his audacity and then listened carefully to his predicament.

"That's quite the conundrum," said Garren with a whistle, "but I have no counsel to give." He eyed the Captain, who could only shake his head in wonder. Garren grinned, "you'd best ask Him directly."

"Can I?" said Page in wonder and delight.

"Certainly, child!" said the magpie, suddenly perched atop Garren's head, "And as there can be no such union amongst the Messengers yet both parties are well aware of that, by all means, let them go ahead as their duties dictate they must, as ever you portray yourselves other than you are, be it impersonating another individual or a mortal man!" He vanished as suddenly as He had come, apparently taking the senior Messengers with Him, or rather returning them to whatever time or place they had been snatched from. Page dashed off, all eager smile, only mildly disappointed he didn't get to publicly murder his friend.

"The Road?" said the Princess eagerly, glancing about at the rather mundane scene all about her.

"Yes," said Bayard, "but the scene can shift suddenly, so do not judge it by your first view thereof!"

"What of our horses?" queried Kipril.

"No," said the cat, "there are enough of you fell things upon this journey."

"Very well," said Kaya, "at least if the Princess is content to walk?"

"Certainly," said the girl, "I'm sure we'll soon meet a dragon or some such which would unhorse us in a moment, so we might as well save ourselves the trouble."

"That strangely sounds like sense!" said Kaya in surprise.

Grinned the girl broadly, "I may be a nonsensical girl, but I'm not stupid!" Though she added with a pensive frown, glancing significantly at Tyne, "perhaps thoughtless at times, however."

"It comes of being young," laughed Kaya, who was not that much older herself, "but did you not ask me to tell you all the old tales?"

"Quite," said the girl, grinning eagerly but at the grimaces of the cat and Tyne, she added haughtily, "no one asked you to be part of this party, be gone if my desires annoy you!" They both glowered at her but refrained from further comment or protest as Kaya began, the guardsman and the Princess quite rapt in their attention thereto while Tyne and the cat fell to the back of the party and talked quietly together, both finding much wicked delight in their conversation, Kipril and Bayard watched them stonily, unwittingly clutching at their swords as they did so.

As evening fell and Kaya ran out of tales to tell, the Princess declared they'd rest for the night, thus did they stop and made as comfortable a camp as they could beside a merry little brook that chattered endlessly to itself and was quite content therein. Kaya found food enough in her little satchel for all the mortal members of the party and the guardsman, the Princess, and the Messengers passed a merry evening together while Tyne and the cat sat in the shadows outside the fire's light, plotting amongst themselves.

Once the guardsman, the Princess, and Tyne were asleep and the cat had vanished about his own business, the Messengers could at last speak at length amongst themselves, said Bayard grimly, "I don't like that cat, not in the least." He then told Kaya of his adventures of the day and the cat's part in them.

"She certainly feels far different than upon our previous encounter," agreed Kipril, "I wonder what she's done to herself now?"

"I wouldn't put anything beyond her avarice to achieve," shivered Kaya, "she is likely in league with the Fiend himself, I've only felt that sort of aura around true fiends."

"I quite agree," said Bayard grimly, "alas for her own soul and her father's heart!"

Bayard frowned slightly, "and what of Tyne? Can a mortal man complete the Road more than once?"

"I'm sure he has some nefarious business upon it," sighed Kipril, "but we must wait to discover what!"

"Pardon me!" said a surprised voice, interrupting their conversation but eliciting a vastly amused grin from each face, "But you seem vaguely familiar?"

"We accompany a certain Princess," said Bayard slowly, vaguely recognizing the rotund, aging man as someone he had briefly glimpsed somewhere about the palace.

"Ah!" said he, "You are all lately arrived in company with her brother aren't you?"

"Yes," said Kipril.

"It was your most intriguing Uncle that set me upon this Road," said he, "might I join you?"

"Certainly," laughed Kaya, "any friend of our 'uncle's' must be a friend of ours!" he nodded happily, yawned vastly, and settled himself for the night, the Messengers exchanged an intrigued grin, and continued their conversation.

When the party rose the next morning, they weren't surprised to find another companion, though they were rather astonished to see the portly grinning fellow upon such an adventure, they shrugged, exchanged amused grins, and welcomed him amongst them. "My Lord Snew!" said the Princess in wonder, "What a strange errand to meet upon!"

"Though I hope not unpleasant, milady?" grinned he.

"Certainly not," said she, beginning the day's travels, he waddling happily beside her, the guardsman grinning in vast amusement behind them. Tyne and the cat again brought up the rear, both laughing snidely at their newest companion behind his back. That day the testing began, at least for the three mortal members of the party who were treading the Road for the first time, for the rest, there was little to differentiate the journey from any other.

Bayard at last fell back to consult with Tyne and the cat, who grew stubbornly silent upon his approach, said he when they just stared balefully at him, "come, what are you two conspiring together about?"

"You'll see soon enough," promised Tyne maliciously.

"Cats never divulge their secrets, wraith," hissed the feline, "but know you will rue the day you ever thought to meddle in my affairs!"

"I fear neither you nor your dread master," said Bayard stonily, "for my Master's power is greater than either!"

"We'll see," retorted the cat in anticipation.

"So we shall," agreed Bayard, bowing politely and returning to his place in the middle of the party, walking companionably with the guardsman.

"This is certainly a strange party," remarked he, as his companion returned.

"I've been among stranger," grinned Bayard, "upon my last such venture, we had a talking horse and an owl, but on this one we only have a cat."

"Still," grinned the boy, "that's excitement enough for me, though I'm rather more intrigued by the idea of a Princess and a Lord of the Realm making such a journey. A talking cat or such lads as ourselves is quite believable, but Lord Snew?!"

"It is odd at that," grinned Bayard, "but I have also traveled in company with a young scholar who had seen little but the inside of a library!"

"I suppose anyone and everyone might take advantage of this strange byway," said he, but his eyes narrowed as he asked, "if you've walked this way before, how is it you can walk it again?"

"The majority of this party has done just that," grinned Bayard, "you may only walk it once of your own volition, but sometimes it proves necessary to either one's own duties or the needs of another that it must be trodden again for one reason or another."

"And what is your business upon this trip?" asked he.

Bayard shook his head, "that I know not, but eager am I to find out."

"As I am to find what lurks at its further end," said the boy eagerly.

"Death!" said a grim voice. The little company drew together into a fearful clump, every hand instinctively reaching for a sword or dagger.

"What do you want, fiend?" queried Kipril, coming to the fore and confronting the undead monster that blocked their path.

"I want the lot of you to quit this pathetic Road," hissed the skeletal thing, draped all in black cloth, "else I shall rend you all limb from limb!"

Bayard asked of the cringing party, "any takers?" They shuddered in terror but answered him not. He nodded to Kipril, who drew his sword in anticipation.

"Very foolish, boy," smirked the thing eagerly, "the rest of you watch what awaits you!" It drew its own blade, black as utter night, and slashed at the grinning boy, who easily blocked the first stroke and counter thrusted with his own, in its surprise at being thus thwarted, it actually dropped its blade, allowing Kipril to easily dispatch the thing. The moment it fell to ash, the others breathed a sigh of relief, and laughing nervously at their escape, continued on their way.

"You will not defeat all my minions so easily, wraith," hissed a great raven perched on a stump near where the villain had vanished.

Kipril shuddered in absolute terror, knowing this was no foe he could ever fight, saying only, "I can but do my best and trust my Master's grace in all else."

"Aren't you a proper parrot!" laughed the bird scornfully, winging off with a raucous caw of triumph, "Wait in dread, little fool! You have faced nothing yet!"

Kipril sighed in relief once the Fiend had winged off, trotting to catch up with the rest of the party, and saying quietly to Bayard and Kaya, as he joined them, "the Fiend himself is set against us!"

"This must be something quite important," said Bayard in wonder, "to involve so many of us and to attract attention from that particular quarter!"

"We cannot counter him!" protested Kaya in horror.

"No," said Kipril, "but He can! Nor can the Fiend do aught to us that He cannot set aright!" They exchanged happy and bold smiles at this, before parting to consult with the rest of their companions on less exciting topics.

Kaya approached the Princess, who eagerly took her arm, and said brightly, "isn't this exciting, I thought that thing would verily be the end of us! Wasn't he a bold fellow, your brother's friend? I wonder if he'd like to be a Prince?"

Kaya laughed at the absurdity, "I don't think you should try courting any member of our current party, milady! Especially if you plan on finishing the Road?"

"I suppose I should figure that out before worrying about my love life," smiled she ruefully, "though sometimes it is hard to remember I'm not just a silly girl on a simple walk through the woods!"

"Very soon that will be made clear," said Kaya solemnly, "until then, enjoy the peace while it lasts!"

"Spoken like a veritable aunt!" sighed the Princess, adding ruefully, "But true for all of that."

"Milady?" came a sultry masculine voice, "Would you care to take a stroll with me and escape such sordid company?"

"Indeed!" said the girl, eyeing the handsome stranger hungrily, though the Messengers could see the hideous troll lurking beneath the shallow façade.

It offered the girl its arm, but as she reached to take it, her eyes narrowed and she said, "but I know nothing of you sir, and you are quite forward as well!" Kaya grinned proudly, but the troll was not so happy in her rejection, its disguise vanishing in its rage, as it made to leap upon her, but the guardsman was suddenly between them, his sword at the ready. But the blade shattered on the monster's stony hide and it easily took hold of the astonished boy, and with a horrid leer of triumph, it dashed into the brush on the side of the Road, carrying the boy with it.

"Is there nothing you can do?" demanded the Princess of the Messengers, who could only shake their heads sadly, for pursuit was impossible, not only with the uncanny nature of the Road but to those of their persuasion as well.

Sighed Bayard heavily, "he made his choice milady, as we all must upon this Way. He chose to risk his life to save yours, and with the nature of the Road itself, the creature and its prey could be anywhere, even should we attempt it, we would never find them."

"So he has failed," sighed she heavily.

"No," said Bayard wistfully, "a faithful death upon this Road is as good as reaching its end, fear not for him!"

"What a strange concept!" frowned she, but there was a speculative look in her eye.

Stuttered my Lord Snew, "you mean the horrors of this way are real? I thought it would all be mirage or slights of hand, that sort of thing!"

"No," said Kipril, "this way can prove quite lethal sir, make sure your heart is right with the Master ere you take another step, lest you perish and face eternal night thereafter!"

"Good riddance!" snapped Tyne, smiling eagerly to have the only mortal sword in the party now gone. He exchanged a cruel smile with the cat, who winked in reply, as it suddenly grew to the size of a small horse and whose usually orange fur was suddenly crackling flames.

Hissed the monster in anticipation, blowing a gout of flame to terrify its companions all the more, "now who will save you, fools?"

"I do not fear you, cat!" said Bayard, setting himself between the cat and the rest of the party. It hissed in fury and blew fire at the impudent wretch, the boy vanishing with a scream of agony as the inferno swept over him.

Kaya and Kipril exchanged an intrigued look, for if the fiery felid could vanquish a Messenger, then perhaps they could deal with the creature! But how to approach without suffering their comrade's fate? Kipril suddenly unveiled his radiant form and drew his sword, the cat hissed in terror and fell back before that terrible light, his flaming breath doing nothing to impede the dread warrior's approach, and with a single slash of his sword, the beast vanished with a pathetic wail and a puff of smoke, leaving no trace the creature had ever been.

Kipril draped himself again in mortality and turned to look upon a desperate scene, for while he dealt with the cat, Tyne had taken his chance as well. He held Lord Snew and the Princess at swordpoint, Kaya helpless to interfere. Mocked he, "you could deal with the wretched cat, but what of me? What is to keep me from piercing them both through and ending this journey here and now?"

"Nothing," said Kipril glumly, "well do we know your heartlessness when it comes to anyone and everyone but yourself!"

Said the Princess defiantly, "if he ends it here and now, does that not mean triumph for us, assuming we trust in Him?"

Kaya laughed brightly, "indeed, milady, you have the right of it!"

"Drat!" snarled Tyne, dropping his sword from threatening his victims, "I will not give you so easy a death nor a victory! Rather you will walk this grim path and suffer all that you must upon it, perhaps then you will fail or despair, rather than gaining your so-called triumph with so little effort or pain!" He stalked off into the bushes, not bothering to look back.

"What of the cat?" said the Princess, "And your brother and friend?"

Kipril smiled wryly, apparently they had been so preoccupied with Tyne and his sword that they had utterly failed to notice his uncanny antics, said he in no little relief, not having looked forward to explaining the scene to the uninitiated, "it has been dealt with and Bayard will not be much importuned by its fire."

"No more than that poor guardsman," sighed Lord Snew heavily.

"But he died protecting a Princess," smiled Kaya wistfully, "is that not every warrior's dream?"

"You've been reading too many fairytales, my friend!" laughed Kipril, "I doubt anyone has ever dreamed of being torn apart and eaten by a troll, save perhaps in a nightmare."

"You certainly take all the romance out of it," said the Princess, aghast.

"Let's be off," said Kaya with a shudder, "I'd rather be as far from here as we can get!"

"Quite," agreed the Princess, setting off anew with their drastically reduced little company.

As evening settled about them, they turned reluctantly from their journey to the roadside for some much needed rest, but Lord Snew was rather dejected to find they had nothing for supper. "I'm sorry," said Kaya, "but we have no more provisions, nor is there anything readily available as far as wild produce or game."

"There!" said his lordship eagerly, seeing a glimmer of lamplight just beyond the nearest trees, and staring longingly at the banquet he could see set out and waiting, he took an eager step towards it, but the Princess called out, "nay sir, stay your flight!" He turned back to the lady in distress, what was he to do? It was such a hardship to endure a night of want, and here was a banquet ready made, but then he remembered the troll and shuddered in disgust, returning swiftly to his place beside the fire. Said he regretfully, "you are quite correct milady, indeed I believe you have saved my very life!"

As he refused the snare, it faded from view like a mirage in the desert, and in its place they could see the foxfires of a stinking mire, ready to consume any unwary traveler rather than to a provide a meal therefor. With a heavy sigh of disappointment and relief, they settled in for the night, the Messengers warding their slumber. In the morning, the pleasant lands through which they had been walking had become a veritable desert, the sun hot and searing overhead, the wind kicking up dust into their parched eyes and mouths, and many a sharp edged rock under their weary feet. But they pressed on, ever on, through this endless waste, until Lord Snew stumbled and could not go further, for he had broken his ankle.

"We can't just leave him!" protested the Princess, "Yet neither are we allowed to linger if ever we hope to reach the end of this accursed way!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" said a new voice, as a seeming horse came galloping up from behind them, "I'll bear the fellow."

Kaya smiled in greeting to her Pegassi, as he lowered himself to the ground that the rotund little lord might more easily climb aback him, saying as he did so, "thank you very much, my dear fellow, I truly appreciate it!"

"You must continue your journey," said the Pegassi jovially, "and you can't do it with a lame leg, a most unfortunate happening in a quadruped, devastating in a biped!"

"Is this not a little too fortuitous?" queried the Princess skeptically, "I have had my fill of talking beasts!"

"Do you not trust the provision of the Master of this Road?" queried the Pegassi curiously.

"Who do you think provided our food at the beginning of the journey?" smiled Kaya.

"But where was He when the others were slain?" demanded the Princess.

"Were we not warned that there would be such dangers upon the Way?" asked Kipril, "Why then should we doubt His sovereignty when the warnings are fulfilled?"

"I had not thought of that," sighed she, "but what of tragedy in the mortal world?"

"It is a broken world," said Kaya, "as dangerous as this Road we now walk, yet He died to offer redemption to all of us and creation itself, though that will not be fulfilled until the Day! Until then, we must abide amidst the sorrow and death with which this world is fraught, neither is easy but it is the path we are doomed to walk."

Added the Pegassi joyously, "and never are we left to walk either path alone or forgotten. His provision and blessing are all that make it bearable! And one day, if you come faithfully to the End, you'll look back and laugh at the whole journey and wonder what the fuss was all about, for what lies beyond is worth far more than the little trouble it costs us to achieve it."

"This must be some treasure!" said his lordship eagerly.

"Indeed, it is," said the Pegassi eagerly.

"I wish I could smile like you three," groused the Princess good-naturedly at the three grinning creatures, two Messengers and the Pegassi.

"Just a little further and you will too," smiled Kaya all the more.

They traveled on for several more days through that searing waste, and at last, when the felt they could go no further, at last a broad river crossed the Road, allowing them to quench their thirst and rest in the welcome shade of the many trees that lined its bank. "But how are we to cross?" asked the Princess as they sat beneath the trees.

"I could carry one and swim across," offered the Pegassi.

"It had best be Lord Snew," said she, "for he is injured!"

"But I will not leave a lady to risk so deep and treacherous a crossing!" declared he.

"I see a little boat drawn up along the bank," said Kaya, "the Princess could easily make her way across in the boat while his lordship swims across with his usual companion."

"Very well," said the Princess quizzically, "but what of you two?"

Kaya laughed brightly, "fear not for us, milady, we shall manage quite well." She did not seem as thoroughly pleased with this arrangement, but had no choice but to trust her strange companions. Finally, they rose from their rest and sent the lady on ahead in the boat, which carried her faithfully across, and stumbling ashore, she waited eagerly for them to join her. They helped Lord Snew aback the Pegassi, but as the valiant beast neared the middle and deepest part of the river, a great green tentacle reached up out of the depths and pulled the unfortunate pair under.

"No!" cried the Princess in alarm, "No!" But even as she watched, the Road shifted and the river and her remaining companions vanished, leaving her utterly alone thereupon. With a heavy heart, she turned her back and continued on as she knew she must, wondering if the joy promised at the End could truly be worth the sorrow she had endured in its pursuit.

Kaya and Kipril exchanged a broad smile, and as their Pegassi appeared in a flutter of bright wings, they vanished about their next errand, which seemed to be sitting at table in a certain familiar inn. The Princess could not believe her eyes, as she crested the next hill, for there was the same inn from which she had set out, so eager and merry and in such company, now miserable and alone, did she enter the front door, to which the Road ran straight towards. "Truly?!" said she, seating herself beside the eagerly smiling pair.

"Yes," said Kaya brightly, "welcome to the End of the Road!"

"Now what?" asked the girl eagerly.

Kaya grinned eagerly, before obliterating them all with that wondrous light, and when the girl blinked back to waking life, she happily doused her with water from a convenient jug, though not from the inn's well, for good measure. She smiled at Kipril and laughed, "that was rather fun!"

He shook his head in wry amusement and said, "let's get back to the palace before our enemies get up to any mischief!" Helping the baffled girl to her feet, suddenly they were somewhere else entirely.

"It's about time you got here!" said my Lord Snew, grinning broadly as they appeared in a shadowy corner of one of the least frequented corridors of the palace, "The ball of special magnificence is about to begin."

"Gracious!" said the Princess, horrified by her rough appearance, having been camping and otherwise roughing it over the past eon or so.

"Just concentrate, milady!" grinned that uncanny handmaiden, "That's it!"

"I could get used to this!" laughed the lady in delight, "I'll never have to sit through half a day of having my hair arranged again!"

"Unless demanded by your duty," replied Kaya with a knowing smile, "but come, we don't want to be late for your own ball!"

"Certainly not," agreed she, "but is everyone here?"

Lord Snew nodded, "and then some, milady, we've nearly a full regiment in attendance at this rather unextraordinary function, so we all assume it shall be an intriguing evening."

"Do you think Tyne will come?" said she with a shudder.

"You did invite him," said Kipril wryly, "but don't worry about him, he's no threat to any of us!"

"What are we?" said she weakly.

Kaya smiled like Dawn itself, "did we not tell you? I suppose we didn't, milady, welcome to the Messengers!"

"I'll require a full explanation later," said she, but adding with a smile, she continued, "but for now we have a ball to attend!" She offered his lordship her arm and smiled keenly at her uncanny companions, as he led her to the ballroom.

"I don't know how to dance!" protested Kipril as Kaya did the same.

"Nor did we know how to use a sword before all this!" laughed she, "But you managed that flaming feline well enough even so."

"I did at that," said he in surprise, "I suppose this can't be any worse. And if I step on your toes, you won't be permanently damaged."

"Now that's comforting!" said she, rolling her eyes dramatically before they shared a merry laugh.

As they went through the line to greet their hosts, including both Royal Messengers, Ithril asked of the grinning Kaya, "could my sister not find anyone but Lord Snew to attend her to this function? He's old enough to be her father, though a widower with a vast fortune, I would think her tastes would run quite in the opposite direction, no matter how many social matrons might consider him a fine 'catch.'"

"You do not know?" asked she in wonder.

"Know what?" said the boy skeptically, eyeing the widely grinning Garren just behind Kaya in the greeting line. "She didn't? He didn't?" gasped he. Garren's grin only widened.

"Both actually," smiled Kaya brightly.

Ithril shook his head in wonder and glanced at his own companion for the evening, "this is going to be some party!"

"It had better be," smiled she demurely, "I didn't travel this far for the appetizers!"

"Though I doubt any of the other guests will consider it amusing in the least," cautioned Garren, as he bowed himself through the line, but his irrepressible juniors only grinned the more. He shook his head wryly and entered the ballroom and was soon accosted by a blandly smiling, unremarkable noble-type person.

At his blank look, the Captain grinned through that unfamiliar face, "reporting for duty, sir!"

"At least someone is," chuckled Garren, "these youngsters are giddy with excitement and there's no room for aught else!"

"They'll do their part," smiled that noble guardsman, "we can't do anything but! Let them enjoy the mounting excitement, did you not enjoy such things back in the ancient days of your youth?"

"It was so long ago I quite forgot I ever had one," smiled he, "but then it is only proper that we oldsters worry about what is coming of the younger generation, forgetting our own elders worried about us the same way and we still turned out."

"Neither did we destroy the world," chuckled that guarded nobleman.

"Have you ever heard of such a gathering?" queried Garren of his companion.

"No," replied he, "it must be quite the party indeed!"

"And here's the guest of honor!" said Garren, recognizing Tyne as he pushed his way rudely into the ballroom, foregoing all politeness, protocol, and social expectation.

"I wonder how many friends he's likely to invite?" mused the Captain.

"Let's go find out," smiled Garren eagerly as any of the younger Messengers might, though none but the Captain noticed, but he certainly enjoyed the irony, if it was completely lost upon Garren himself. They trotted off through the ever increasing crowd to confront Tyne.

The boy smiled insolently at their approach, said he in deepening malice, "are you ghosts ready? I'm but the scout! And once the night is over, I have been promised much for my cooperation. They'll need a new King and court entirely and I'll be the first in line, and a King that will live forever! Now if you wraiths will excuse me, I have a report to make before the fun begins." He laughed cruelly and vanished out into the adjacent gardens via a wide door open thereupon to admit the cooler air into the stifling splendor of the ballroom.

"Let's go apprise the troops," grinned Garren, exchanging a grim smile with the Captain. He nodded and they dashed off in opposite directions to speak with the others stationed about the room, but they had hardly separated when a violent, bitterly cold wind blew in through the open garden doors, plunging the room into utter night, but suddenly the Pegassi appeared in a brilliant flash as their riders likewise flared forth like a new lit lamp, and as the Messengers glanced about the room, they smiled in wonder to see the only remaining guests were themselves, save the horde of unsavory things swarming in through the garden doors.

They each leapt into their saddles and drew their swords, falling upon the nearest monsters swift as thought, until only one wretched sobbing boy remained. The candles flickered back to life, the Pegassi disappeared, and the missing guests appeared as if they had never vanished, but Tyne sat upon the floor and wept. Garren again approached the miserable boy and asked, "what troubles you lad?"

"You've ruined everything!" sobbed he, "And now I'm doomed."

"You need only turn to the Master..." he gasped in pain and crumpled to the floor as Tyne stabbed him in the stomach.

Snarled the boy, "mind your tongue, ghost! I will not be mocked!"

"Come along lad," said the Captain grimly, now guised as himself.

"You have no authority over me," hissed the boy, trying to draw his shoulder away from the man's firm grasp.

Said the Captain gravely, "as a Messenger, no, it would be futile, but as Captain of the King's Guard, I have every right to arrest you for murder, now come along."

"No!" snapped the boy, "If it must end, let it be by my own hand!"

"No!" cried the guardsman, but the boy still had his dagger in hand and was not slow in turning it upon himself. Tyne slumped dead on the floor beside the unmoving Garren, a crowd of eager spectators looking on in interest, this being the most exciting thing to happen at a ball in recent remembrance. With a sad sigh, the Captain and several of the younger Messengers, including a certain other guardsman, set to cleaning up the mess and allowing the festivities to continue as they must.

"That's that," said Garren, as they roused him from death in a quiet corner of the stableyard, "now we just need to set our mortal affairs in order before we each vanish about out next quest."

Ithril grinned brightly, "you mean I still get to be fabulously murdered?"

"I believe we'll be murdered by bandits upon your wedding tour," said the ever sensible Page, and grinning at Garren he added, "we can't all die spectacularly in a public ballroom."

"I suppose I must elope with my Lord Snew?" said the Princess half horrified, half amused.

"It makes about as much sense as anything in this business does," shrugged the man, not unamused himself.

"Perhaps the Prince would write to our parents and ask that we might remain indefinitely in his service?" grinned Bayard at Ithril, who nodded his amused concurrence.

"I'd be happy to carry the letters," said Garren, "I'm sure my bean patch is in dire need of weeding by now."

"I'll remain at my post as well," nodded the Captain, "though I fear one of my most promising young guardsmen is about to accompany a certain ill-fated Prince on his wedding tour."

"I believe everyone has their orders?" said Garren wistfully, "It has been fun my friends, but I fear the time of our parting has come."

"What are all the ages of the mortal world to a single eternal moment?" said the Captain archly, "We'll have all eternity to spend together and reminisce upon old tales do we wish it! Come sir, you are as silly as any of these young neophytes you were earlier concerned about!"

"I am at that!" laughed Garren brightly, as they all joined in, "No wonder I've been assigned a few centuries of weeding in hopes it might steady my character!"

"If you are considered impetuous," quipped Ithril, "then there is no hope for any of us!"

"But at least we serve the Source of all Hope," smiled Kaya brightly.

"Amen!" said they all together, before making their farewells and separating to attend to their various errands. Inside, the revelers danced on, ignorant of the Greater Things that had passed in the night.

Dancing

"I hate all of these unending festivities!" groused the Prince as he rested briefly beside his friend and companion, catching his breath after what seemed his fiftieth dance that evening, considering with dread that the night was only half spent.

"Far better you than me," grinned Bayard.

"You are certainly a heartless cad," said his royal friend with a wry grin, "but then I guess on your shoulders does not rest the fate of the realm." He sighed and continued, "why can I not marry for love as all the fairytales seem to imply is possible? Forcing an attachment in this way seems quite unnatural to my thinking, but then affection never much troubles itself with the needs of a nation or the politics and wars of mortal men."

"As I said, better you than me," replied Bayard, his grin gone, leaving only a serious and thoughtful expression.

"Certainly," said the Prince, his own grin and humor returning, "you haven't the stomach for it." His countenance fell, and with a sigh, he resumed his place amidst the swirling throng, taking the hand of the next maiden on the list of political convenience, wishing with all his heart that his heart might have a little say in the matter after all, but resigned to his doom, whatever it be.

The evening was wearing away, and most of the celebrants had limped off to their respective quarters to recover from the festivities or had withdrawn to the sides of the room, where they collapsed in the nearest available chair to gossip with their neighbors. The Prince had dutifully gone through the entire list of eligible ladies and was now free to dance with whom it pleased him, though none of his partners of the evening had garnered enough interest on his part to gain his hand a second time, thus he danced with the few remaining ladies with whom he had not yet graced the floor. His current partner, a rather comely and quiet creature, fascinated him for reasons he could not fathom. Perhaps it was that she neither giggled incessantly, shrank in terror, nor babbled insipidly, but rather swirled about with him as if he were of no more interest or import than a common village boy of long acquaintance; whatever it was, he found the girl a vast relief after every other woman he had danced with that evening.

To his immense surprise the music ended all too soon, and even the most stalwart of dancers was forced to call it a night. He bid the maiden adieu, and hastened to Bayard's side, who stood yawning by a nearly depleted table of confections, said the Prince without preamble, "have you any idea who that girl is I was just dancing with?"

Bayard stifled another yawn and said aghast, "you aren't in love are you?"

The Prince chuckled in spite of himself, "do not be ridiculous, I am not some character in a storybook! It will take more than a single dance for me to become even mildly infatuated."

"She's not on the list," said Bayard warningly, no matter the Prince's protestations to the contrary, "and no, I haven't a clue."

"Keep an eye on her then," said the Prince anxiously, "maybe introduce yourself and learn what you can about her, because there is no way I can do it without having every scullion and washerwoman in the Kingdom gossiping about it ere dawn."

Bayard was now wide awake and scanning the vast hall, looking for the mysterious maiden, happily catching a glimpse of her as she slipped out a small side door, said he with a grin, "this is exactly like something out of the fairytales, Highness!" He bowed as respectfully as his mirth would allow, and said as he dashed after the maid, "and it seems I had best make haste if your lady is not to vanish entirely from whatever story you have unwittingly embroiled both of us in!"

The Prince watched until his friend had vanished himself and then approached the nearest bevy of his former partners and resigned himself to a tete-a-tete that well might last until dawn, for though most of the elder members of the court had long since gone to bed, no lady on the Prince's 'list,' would dare leave until all chance of gaining his favor that night was gone. So it was he chatted airily about he knew not what, meanwhile his mind dwelt far more happily on the fled maiden and Bayard's pursuit thereof.

Claire slipped silently out of the hall, unobserved, or so she thought, smiling impishly to herself at the incongruity of the evening, and hoping she could escape from the castle and its occupants before things grew awkward. She should not have lingered so long, but somehow she could not pass up a chance to dance with a real prince, to think that she, a mere shepherd's daughter, had only a few minutes ago twirled about the floor as freely as if she were a great lord's heir! Ah well, she had accomplished her mission for the evening and still had time enough, if barely, to escape the confines of the castle ere things grew interesting.

She slipped quietly out into the night, avoiding the great courtyard wherein the country's elite were awaiting their various equipages, rather, quite incongruous in her finery, she kept to the less traversed parts of the grounds and vanished out a small side gate, much startling the sleepy guard on duty without. He scratched his head in puzzlement at the phantasm, for fine ladies didn't usually make such an exit, but who was he to question the comings or goings of the great? He was even more confounded when a certain great lord's son and heir followed swiftly in pursuit, but then a sudden thought occurred to him, and assuming he knew exactly what was afoot, he relaxed and resumed his post, for nobility or not, young lovers were all the same, no matter their station, at least until a third figment passed unheeding through the now closed gate, which sent such a chill up the man's spine that he shrank against the wall, shuddering violently.

Bayard was as puzzled by the fugitive as the flummoxed guardsman, for her garb marked her as a woman of means and station, but what woman of such standing fled afoot into the night like some barefoot peasant caught in some trifling mischief? Fairytale indeed! The chase continued through the city, across the outlying fields, and into a forgotten lane that vanished into the night dark wood.

The girl finally stayed her flight on a hill just inside the forest's rim, glancing in impish delight back at the just risen moon, now peeking over a distant rise, having won the race and escaping any chance of accidental observation, or so she thought, until a gasp of surprise escaped her otherwise silent pursuer. But she had no time to address the impertinent youth, for an otherworldly chill just then accosted her own spine even as a strange eagerness stirred in her heart. Tonight would be in nowise so dull as she had anticipated, even with her stolen dance.

Bayard's gasp became a frown of consternation as the eldritch girl suddenly discovered his presence, but her attention did not linger upon himself, but rather focused immediately on something directly behind him, he followed her gaze and his knees buckled in terror even as his hand strayed to his sword hilt. What was that thing? A phantom wrought of shadow and reeking of evil and malice stood but a pace behind him, seeming to study the strange pair with cruel amusement.

"This is a strange meeting indeed!" said the villain.

"Quite," said the girl, Bayard gaped to see a sword in her hands, glimmering with a light too bright to be a reflection of moon or star, indeed, it seemed wrought of cold starlight itself, but then the girl too seemed to be composed of the same stuff, combined with the mist that wrapped itself about their feet, it was this strange transformation, revealed by the nascent moonlight, that had triggered his original gasp of surprise, what seemed ages ago. "What do you want, shade?" continued she.

"I was going to ask you the same, wraith!" hissed the shadow.

She could not help but smile, "I was simply trying to escape unseen."

The villain barked a scornful laugh, "and this fellow followed you while I followed him, thinking you and the Prince were up to something, neither of us knowing your true proclivities."

"I should not have lingered so long nor danced with the Prince," said she with a shrug, "and had this fellow not tagged after, nothing more would have come of it."

"Yes," hissed the shadow in anticipation, "what now is to come of him?"

"If he swears himself to secrecy," said she in growing dread, "he can go home."

"I think not!" hissed the phantasm, "Such things are not within the ken of mortal men; he must be silenced."

"No!" said she, hefting her sword, "Let him be!"

The shadow chuckled darkly, "if only to discomfit you, I would make an end of him, but he has seen too much and cannot be allowed to live." The thing struck like a snake, latching onto Bayard's shoulder before he could draw his sword more than an inch from its sheath, but neither was the lady idle, driving her sword through the menace only a moment after it had attached itself to the horrified boy. The shadow dissipated into a black mist with a pathetic wail, as Bayard turned aghast eyes upon the lady, who stood staring thoughtfully at the wound.

She shook her head sadly and finally addressed the overwrought boy, "whyever did you follow me?"

Bayard opened his mouth to say something, but swooned before a single word was uttered. He felt something like light or joy itself infuse his being and then blinked dazedly awake, glancing sheepishly up at the mist-wrought girl, whose eyes held both amusement and pity. Shaking himself, he gained his feet, though he still felt weak and rather woozy, he was no longer in danger of imminent collapse, stuttered he, "what was that thing? Who or what are you?"

She smiled sadly at him and motioned for him to follow a short distance, where they seated themselves on a pair of moldering tree stumps, thick with moss. Bayard's was more a collapse than an attempt to sit, at which, she said quietly, "I suppose both of our queries must wait, for the far more immediate and pressing concern is what is to come of you?"

"Me?" gasped the boy, suddenly feeling rather wan and thin, "I thought you said I could go home!"

She shook her head gravely, "that was before the Shadow struck you. There is no cure for the wound he inflicted. You will very soon fade from the mortal world, if you do not become a fiend like unto him."

"Fade?!" gasped the boy; he grimaced, "Or a thing like him! What am I to do? I'm not ready to die!"

"Ready or not," said she slowly, "it is imminent, unless you wish to become a thing like him?"

"Never!" said the boy in disgust and vehemence, "I thought you destroyed the thing?"

"He would have absorbed you utterly, had I not intervened," said she sadly, "but I was too late to prevent him from wounding you, even so."

Bayard's shoulders slumped, "what am I to do?"

She shook her head sadly, "prepare for what is to come. You cannot escape it, it is a door we all must take, but that does not mean we must fear what lurks on the other side."

"You sound like my mother," said the boy with a wry grin.

The girl could not help but laugh impishly, "she sounds a wise woman."

Bayard frowned at the girl, "is there no other option but death?"

"What do you mean?" asked the girl, not uneagerly.

"You!" said the boy, his head cocked in growing curiosity, "You seem to know a little about this sort of thing, neither are you afraid nor hopeless."

She shrugged, "all men must die one day, but it is not the end of all things, or even of your service in the mortal world, if that is your wish." She smiled unabashedly at him, "at least if you listen to your mother."

He could not help but laugh, "what must I do?"

She raised a misty, glowing hand, "it is not a thing of our doing, but of His, though we must agree to it of course."

He raised his own hand, now transparent and growing ever more so with each passing moment, he shuddered, "very well, show me if you cannot tell me." He touched his hand to hers and suddenly that light or joy or whatever it was that he had felt briefly as the girl roused him from his faint coursed through him, nay consumed him utterly, until all he was aware of was that blinding, deadly, radiant, glorious light. A moment or an eon later, he gasped back to conscious awareness of something besides that wondrous Presence. He sighed heavily, wondering how life could ever be bearable without it, and was drawn suddenly back to the present moment by poorly stifled laughter. He frowned once more at the girl as she burst forth into a raucous, and very unladylike, laugh, making no attempt to hide it this time.

"What is so funny?" said he at last.

"You!" giggled she, "Of course we each felt the same in our turn, but it is vastly amusing to watch someone else come to the sudden realization that he's back in the mortal world." She sobered slightly, but smiled joyously at him, "but since you did manage to make it back, you'll adjust just fine." She finished quietly, "some don't come back, not that I can blame them." She glanced back towards the city, hidden by the darkling wood, "few can find such joy and leave it willingly to return to a world marred by sorrow and evil and death, but it is for that very reason we do come back: that there might be a bit less of all of it and that mortal men may live on unaware of the greater terrors that stalk the world."

He stood then and studied himself, a figure of mist and entrapped starlight, before gazing at the girl with a sheepish smile, "so that answers one of my questions. So I suppose I should answer yours." He glanced about cautiously, but only the trees stood about them in their silent and deaf ranks, continued he, "the Prince was quite taken with you, he sent me after you, being unable to do so unremarked himself, but this meeting was certainly not what either of us had anticipated!"

She shook her head sadly and glanced at her feet, "I couldn't resist a chance to dance with the Prince, though I am sorry it ended in tragedy for you." She gazed fiercely at him, "but then I did not ask you to follow, nor am I culpable for the fiend's actions."

"As to blame," shrugged Bayard nonchalantly, "let it all lie at the fiend's feet, which brings us back to my other question."

"What was that thing?" said she softly, "A wraith, a shade, a shadow, I don't rightly know its name, but one of the fell things against which we ward the world."

He nodded thoughtfully, but then a sudden, eager light kindled in his eyes, "what then is my part in this strange tale?"

"An excellent question lad," said another voice, as both started in surprise and gazed upon the speaker. Bayard gaped to recognize the man, whom he had probably seen almost every day for as long as he could remember, though never in such a guise, for he was as mist-wrought as they themselves. Without thinking, the onetime lordling offered up a very proper salute to the head groom of the King's stables, prompting a warm chuckle from the recipient, but he returned the salute of both and continued without pause, "when I asked for this meeting, lass, I had not anticipated that you'd bring reinforcements." He paused, smiled at Bayard, and said, "welcome aboard lad, but I am afraid this means things are about to get very interesting for the Kingdom as a whole and the Prince in particular."

Bayard looked rather puzzled, but the man directed his attention to the lady as he said, "have you anything to report?"

She shook her head ruefully, "sorry sir, but I saw nothing of interest nor out of place. The only sign that anything was amiss this night was that shadowy fiend that followed us to this place; hence the boy's predicament." He arched an eyebrow in silent question, causing the lady to blush, if that was possible in their current guise, continued she, much embarrassed, "I stole a dance with the Prince, I thought it quite harmless, but apparently his Majesty thought otherwise and sent his friend in pursuit of me, that wraith thing was upon our very heels. It attacked before I could stop it."

The man could not hide his amused smile, "it seems your boldness has proved beyond doubt that things are indeed amiss in the Kingdom, and has been far more productive than many nights of fruitless watching on my part." He caught the boy's confounded gaze, "and your presence here is not accident or happenstance lad, it means things are about to become very dangerous for the Prince and those closest to him." His own smile became dangerous, but it was not directed at his underlings, "but I think our foes will be very much surprised." He said to the astonished pair, "you had best return to the city and see if you can further unravel this mystery." But before they could broach the hundred odd questions each felt buzzing in their minds, he threw them one last salute as he melted into mist and star-shine, leaving the confounded pair to hastily salute in return before exchanging a flummoxed look.

"We have our orders," said she, but making no move to implement them.

"Yes," said he hesitantly, "but what are we to do?"

"Do?" said she, with a slight smile, "Why, carry them out."

"Yes!" said he in consternation, "But will you not tell me a little of what is going on?"

"Why sir!" said she, her grin at its most impish, "I hardly know that myself. This was my first official assignment, but the day before I was still watching my father's sheep."

He could not help but smile, "an experienced campaigner indeed!" He courteously offered her his arm, "if you shall allow me, General, may I escort you back to the city?" She giggled in a most scandalous fashion, but did not hesitate to oblige him; they vanished in a swirl of mist and moonlight, leaving the silent hill alone to ponder the mysteries of the ages in the midst of the forest.

She blinked, but the whelming dark did not dissipate nor lessen, but neither was she blind in that impenetrable night. Asked she, "where are we? How did you do that?"

He could not contain his mirth, "I was about to ask you the exact same questions, but how ever we did it, it is certainly a much more efficient means of travel than our chase through the city."

"Ah sir, you forget," said she, amusement strong in her voice, "that whole affair was meant merely to ensnare you in this most intriguing profession."

"Thus am I caught," said he, glancing about thoughtfully, a slow smile suddenly graced his face, "ah! I know where we are and I believe I also know the why thereof: Aunt Irvina's townhouse."

"And who, pray tell," said she skeptically, "is Aunt Irvina?"

"She is actually my great aunt," said he, "a spinster of immense wealth with no kith or kin or heir, save myself and my father, but she feels rather old when called great, so we call her aunt instead. She won't be back to the city for several months yet, thus her stuffy but elaborate house might avail us. I am her favorite nephew after all."

"If you are also her only nephew," said she dryly, "you'd also be her least favorite as well."

"Whatever I am to her," said he with a chuckle, "you can stay here and pretend to be a lady of some standing with no questions asked. I'll have a brief chat with the Steward and you can do as it pleases you."

"Just as long as I don't have to throw any boring parties," said she with a laugh, delighted by the irony of the situation.

"That's what the palace is for," said he with his own laugh.

"To think I gave up herding sheep for this," giggled she, "I do believe sheep are less querulous than some of the socialites I'll be forced to hobnob with."

"Aren't the fairytales full of such tales?" asked he.

"But this isn't a fairytale!" protested she.

"Are you sure?" asked he, as soberly as he could muster, "How is it you found yourself embroiled in this fiasco?"

Said she thoughtfully, "I was driving the flock down a little country road to another pasture, when suddenly the silly things went mad, dashing hither and thither as if struck blind or mad with terror. Suddenly this great fiendish thing, draped all in black aback an equally dark horse, rounds the corner, and out of sheer malice he rode me down where I stood, the last thing I remember was his vile laughter lingering in his wake, then..." She trailed off as they exchanged a glance full of wonder and awe too great to speak aloud.

"When I woke again in the mortal world," continued she, "I was all dandied up as you first saw me and was standing in an out of the way corner of the courtyard. I knew I was supposed to blend in with the guests and keep an eye out for anything odd, especially that dark horseman. Afterwards, I hastened off to a rendezvous, little knowing what to expect, except that I shouldn't be seen abroad after moonrise."

"As to that," said he thoughtfully, "I believe we can change our outward appearance, even our face and clothes if we wish, appearing as nothing out of the ordinary to mortal men, but it is strange that the moon betrays our true nature even so."

"It will certainly be an adventure," said she eagerly, "not least of which will be learning what exactly we are doing! Speaking of which, had we best not settle this with the Steward so that you can get back to the palace before dawn?"

"Yes," said he with a thoughtful frown, "the prince should not be left alone with such villains about." He barked a laugh, "but as to that, I also believe we can appear exactly when and where we are needed, not that I really wish to spend much time idling about in vain pursuits."

The lady was about to look highly offended at being called a vain pursuit, but all chance was taken from her as the door of the stuffy sitting room banged open, revealing two aged and angry looking men clad in nightgowns, one holding a candle aloft while the other proffered a sword. Upon recognizing the young man, both gentlemen bowed slightly, but as the candle-wielding man spoke, he could not completely hide his scandalized tone, "ah, sir, I had no idea it was you, but you will understand my surprise at so unseemly an entrance..." He trailed awkwardly off and looked expectantly to the young lord.

"I am quite sorry James," said Bayard most courteously, "it was not my intention to frighten or disturb anyone, considering the hour, I do apologize and next time I will do my very best to behave in such a manner that her ladyship could in nowise disapprove, as it stands, this young lady will be staying for a few days whilst in the city on certain errands, and I am sure my aunt would be most happy to oblige her."

"As you say, sir," said the servant with the implacable solemnity of a retainer who has seen so much in his years of service that nothing any longer surprises him, but even so he managed to imply, 'it is your business and folly sir, and none of mine, though I think your aunt will not be so blithe or indifferent as you might hope.'

"Very good, James," said he, "consider her orders and wishes as my own, and if any trouble comes of it, be good enough to lay it all at my feet."

"Certainly, sir," said he with only the barest hint of a smile that said his aunt would certainly hear of this ere long.

"What is the hour?" said the boy, as he turned to go. Bayard smiled eagerly, as he was told it was but a few minutes ere dawn, knowing that the moon was now fled and that likely the prince had not yet quite retired to bed. He bowed to the lady, flashed a last impish grin at the servants, and hastened from the house; the lady and the servants could not help but exchange an exasperated glance after such an exit, and then shared a quick laugh before resuming the more proper sobriety of their respective stations.

He went in the same gate he had exited, assuming the guard on duty there would give him a knowing look at his supposed romantic tryst, but he sat huddled against the wall, not even daring to look up. Bayard halted, frowned for a moment at such a reaction, but suddenly he remembered the fiend; placing a hand on the man's shoulder, a sudden flash of light passed betwixt them and the man suddenly gained his feet, confident once more. He frowned at the returned young lord, shook his head as if to clear it, and suddenly saluted, saying, "you had best hurry to bed milord, ere rumors are started." The boy gave him a wide smile and hastened into the castle.

Bayard returned to his quarters, which were not far from the prince's chambers, but there were no servants on duty outside his friend's door, therefore the boy must still be busy with his guests below. He therefore entered his own rooms and froze, for there was a distinct chill in the air, far too reminiscent of the fiend from the forest. The door closed suddenly behind him, immersing the chamber in darkness but he needed no candle to recognize with whom he shared the room. Three shadowy fiends were lurking in the far corners whilst a youth about his own age stood boldly in the midst of the room. Said the unmistakable voice of the prince's cousin, Vlad, "well met sir, or at least I hope it shall be. Don't bother fumbling for a candle, this interview will not take long."

"I will not betray the prince," said Bayard stiffly.

"You will," laughed the other scornfully, "once I have explained matters." He motioned and the wraiths surrounded the boy, though theoretically unseen by their victim, the aura about them was meant to cow and intimidate, coercing by terror whatever cooperation their master required of the victim. Continued he, "say nothing and it will go better for you. I shall give you a fortnight to see that the prince vanishes permanently, by whatever means you can contrive, or I shall have you both disposed of in a most humiliating and horrifying manner. Cooperate and you may even gain power and wealth beyond dreaming. I'll be watching!" He slunk to the door, vanished into the hall, and shortly thereafter his shades fled likewise. Bayard smiled grimly into the empty darkness, knowing an adventure was certainly afoot.

His smile vanished as a soft knock sounded upon his door, which he then swung wide to reveal a tired but eager prince, whom he quickly beckoned inside, forgetting that there wasn't a single candle to lighten up the darkness, but then remembering the hour, Bayard threw open the drapes and let in the new risen sun as the prince shut the door. "Well?" said he expectantly.

"Well what?" said the infuriating lordling.

"Tell me all you can of the mystery lady!" said the Prince impatiently.

"Oh, her," said Bayard with his grin most impish, "she's an upstart shepherdess currently lurking at Great Aunt Irvina's house."

"A protégé of your aunt?" said the prince with a shudder, "I thought I had better taste than that." He frowned, "a shepherdess? How then did she catch your aunt's fancy?"

"It has been a strange night indeed, sire," said Bayard with a wry grin, "she's not really in the market for a prince, she just couldn't help dancing with one. As to the Lady, she knows nothing of the girl."

The prince smiled dryly, "you took pity on the poor thing and are putting her up at your aunt's great house while that eccentric old lady is out of town?"

"Of a certainty," said Bayard with his grin all the wryer.

The prince shook his head in dismay, "why are you keeping her in town if she's not on the catch for a crown?" He frowned, "she hasn't caught your fancy now has she?"

"That will unfortunately be the rumor sire," said he with a laugh, "but that was your intention from the first, me thinks, but not, in truth, neither of us are much interested in matrimony at this point; we have far more important things to do."

"Like what?" said the Prince with his own impish grin, "It seems to be all the craze, at least for my part."

"Well," said Bayard soberly, "how about keeping a certain vile scoundrel from disrupting the succession or throwing the kingdom into chaos?"

"Now this girl of yours is a spy intent on preserving the peace of the realm? You have had an interesting evening," said the prince, half aghast, half skeptical, "who would dare?"

"I don't know who or what the head villain is," said Bayard with a shudder, "but your cousin is in on it, along with some creepy shadowy things."

"What do you mean by 'what' and 'things?'" asked the prince in growing dismay, "I can easily see Vlad taking an interest in anything that will gain him the crown, but what of these others you speak of?"

"The girl encountered some fiendish thing out in the country somewhere, riding hither with all speed," said Bayard, "and I've seen a few of the slinking shadows he must keep as minions snooping about. I don't know more than that, save they are terrifying and deadly. Your cousin just informed me that I have a fortnight to engineer your demise or he'll see that both of us are disposed of in rather a dreadful fashion."

"Wonderful!" groaned the Prince, "Is it not bad enough to be plotting against the throne, now he has to embroil himself in things beyond mortal ken?" He grinned wryly, "at least we might get a fairytale out of this unfortunate situation."

"Hopefully that's all we get out of it," agreed Bayard grimly.

The great coach suddenly halted as the approaching rider also drew rein, crying eagerly, "my Lady, my Lady!" The Steward had dispatched the messenger immediately to inform her ladyship of her nephew's shenanigans, and happily he met her that very afternoon on her way into town that he need not ride all the way to her country estate.

Recognizing the man, she opened the window and took the missive, asking curiously, "what is the emergency?"

The servant could not help but grin widely, "it is not exactly an emergency, my lady, but the Steward thought you had best be apprised of the situation immediately. It seems your nephew is involved in some mischief with a mysterious woman and is intent on letting her stay at your townhouse during your absence."

"We'll see about that," said that great lady in a tone that did not bode well for said nephew or the enigmatical girl. Concluded the grand dame, "fall in with us and we'll put an end to this nonsense ere worse comes of it." The servant eagerly joined his mistress' company as they set forth once more for the great city, impatient to see what would come of the imperiled nephew, but it was well after dark by the time the carriage rattled to a halt in the courtyard of the castle, probably too late to accost the nephew. The servant's heart leapt eagerly, having underestimated his mistress' ire and intentions; she did not care one bit for the hour and was determined to have an account of the matter the very minute she dismounted from her carriage. She sent the boy off to find her scamp of a nephew and bring him to her forthwith, forcibly if necessary.

"My great aunt is just arrived and demands an audience this very moment?" said Bayard in dismay a few minutes later as he stood in the corridor just outside the Prince's chambers, where they had been long in council but rather short on ideas. Finished he with a sigh, "very well, I must return to my chambers for a moment and then I shall face that great lady's wrath." He ventured further down the hall and ducked into his quarters, the servant waiting without, doing his best to maintain a stony sobriety but an impish delight sparkled in his eyes, anticipating what was to come.

Bayard sighed heavily, wondering what to do, not wishing to leave the Prince alone, even for a moment, with those shadowy fiends lurking about the palace. Suddenly he grinned as eagerly as the servant wished to, as his hand began to glow. Claire stood there blinking in surprise but shared a mischievous smile upon glimpsing Bayard, immediately understanding what had happened and what he wished of her. "Before you go," cautioned he, "my aunt is also just arrived. I am afraid we might be in trouble, most especially me!"

"It is all part of the adventure," smiled she, "she can't do worse to us than has already befallen us of late. I'll watch your prince while you deal with your aunt." Her smile became glum, "I almost envy you your assignment, mine shall be rather dull."

"Just don't let him see you," warned Bayard, "or this situation will become even more complicated."

She rolled her eyes as if he had told her she must breathe on a regular basis to maintain life, before vanishing from sight and presumably ghosting straight through the wall. He whistled appreciatively, hardly believing the things that were now possible in this strange and wonderful occupation. But if time and death were now of no consequence, what were walls and visibility? Wishing he could be invisible himself, he returned to the waiting servant and then to his obviously agitated aunt.

"My Lady," said Bayard with the proper courtesies.

"Nephew," said she with the barest nod of her head, "we must speak."

"Yes, milady," agreed the boy, bland as tepid water.

"At length and in private," continued she coldly, even as the eager servant seemed to wilt in dismay.

"The gardens?" queried the boy, forgetting the hour and the possible repercussions to himself.

"No," said she, "the library." She turned imperiously to the servant and ordered, "make sure the drapes are closed and there is no one secreted anywhere in the room, go."

The servant bowed his acknowledgement and hied himself off as fast as his legs could carry him while her ladyship followed at a much slower and far more stately pace. Bayard followed silently, knowing the conversation would not begin in earnest until they were well away from prying ears. At last they reached the library door and waited until the servant emerged and said all was in readiness. He was told to station himself at the door and make sure none disturbed them and was cautioned against eavesdropping himself. The boy swallowed hard, but assured his mistress that all would be as she desired.

"Good," said she, smiling like a hangman before an execution and glancing at the condemned, "after you." Bayard exchanged a dismayed look with the servant and vanished into the confines of the library, followed closely by his imperious aunt and the final, ominous closing of the door.

"Now," said she, immediately setting upon the boy, "what is all this nonsense? If it is half what it seems, you had best marry the girl and the sooner the better, especially as you have seen fit to involve me in your mischief." Instead of melting under that steely gaze, Bayard remained calm and unfazed, for no matter how determined his aunt was to disarm and dismay him, even at her worst she could hardly compare to the relentless and implacable evil indwelling those horrid shades. She smiled at his composure, not pleasantly to be sure, but she could not help but be impressed that he did not visibly melt under a barrage that had caused many a bold knight and haughty knave to go weak in the knees.

"It is not as it seems milady, indeed, far from it," said he at last, once she paused to arrange her thoughts.

"Forget your excuses," said she, "the truth little matters when the perception of scandal is so rampant. Your lack of foresight will not save you from your inevitable duty and don't go protesting that your father will intervene, for he'll do only and exactly as I tell him. You've ruined that girl's character, whatever happened, and probably yours and mine as well, so you must now clean up your mess like a man."

"It is rather complicated, milady," protested the boy, "in any other circumstance, I would act as I must without complaint or excuse, but this situation cannot be rectified thus."

She blinked at him as if she had never seen a young man before, so little used to having her orders defied was she, "explain."

Bayard sighed, "I would if I could, milady, but I cannot."

"You are a bold one, lad," said she, that dangerous smile again gracing her face, "but you must tell me what is afoot."

Bayard's eyes narrowed, "what has brought you to town at this time of year?"

"Bold and perceptive," mused she, "a dangerous combination." She paced before the dying fire for a few moments, her head bowed in thought, then she turned and caught his gaze with her piercing eyes, "what is to come of this impasse? I must know the full tale, yet you refuse to tell me, yet you also ask that which I cannot tell you. Tell me at least what your intentions are in this matter, if you are not trifling with this girl or playing some trick on the court, what is afoot? Is the Prince involved?"

It was Bayard's turn to blink in surprise, how could she know about the prince's involvement? He colored slightly as he realized it was no secret that they were great friends and such a scandal would probably involve them both. He drew in a long, slow breath as he composed his thoughts and then charged ahead, "the Prince is at the very heart of the matter, milady, but it is nothing mischievous or improper, nor is he infatuated with the girl, whatever the servants say or the court thinks. Indeed, it is a very serious matter with severe repercussions to not only the Prince but to the Kingdom as a whole."

"Interesting," said her ladyship, slowly tapping her finger on her lips as she considered what she had just heard, "but why bring the girl into it? If the Prince is in danger as you say, certainly a mere girl, a stranger at that, could be of little use or benefit, save perhaps as a distraction."

"I know not yet what her role shall be, madam," said he, "though it was partly through her efforts that the threat was revealed."

"Tell me," said Irvina in growing eagerness, "this threat, is it merely plotting within the Royal family or court, or is there something more nefarious involved?"

"Both, milady," said Bayard, his brow furrowed in consternation, "why are you come, madam?"

"For this very reason it seems," said she mysteriously.

He frowned, "if this girl can have little to do with such things, what can an aging lady have to do with it?"

"Very good," said she with the first warmth he had yet heard in her voice, "now tell me of these more nefarious forces you mentioned."

The boy shook his head, "I little know, milady. There are deeper shadows lurking in lightless corners than usual of late and I do not think them innocuous."

"And you are not terrified?" asked she in astonishment, "Few can glimpse such things and not flee in terror or lose their minds then and there. Are you so overbold or merely foolish?"

"Neither, milady," said the boy with a shudder, "yet neither can I stand aside and let them engulf the Kingdom or my friend."

"Yet you would imperil this girl?" asked she.

He could not help but grin mysteriously, "this thing has rather involved the both of us quite unwittingly, rather than we seeking it out willingly."

"And so am I likewise drawn in," said she, her eyes narrowed, "have you any idea of the dangers of the powers with which you are dealing?"

He glanced at the flames, though his mind's eye saw things far away, "they can unmake a man with a touch."

Her jaw dropped open, but she quickly snapped it shut and said, "and yet you would risk it even so?"

His eyes widened in astonishment, "what choice do I have? To let the Kingdom fall into darkness? To abandon my friend?"

"Most would," said she quietly, her lips quirked with a nascent smile, "and here I was determined to charge you with the worst sort of mischief and ignoble deeds yet you are willing to risk your very soul for the sake of your friend and the Kingdom. Forgive me, lad."

Bayard could not help but smile himself, "I had hoped you thought better of me, milady, and would listen to the truth of things ere totally despairing of my character." His face fell, "I have been informed that I have a fortnight to dispose of the Prince or we shall both perish in a most unseemly fashion."

"And what do you intend to do?" asked she, far too blandly.

He shook his head, "we've spent the entire day scheming but have come up with no brilliant plan."

"That's why you need an ancient schemer of my vast experience," said she with a deadly smile, "these shadows won't just go away nor are their threats idle." Her eyes narrowed, "yet you are not afraid?"

"I am concerned for the fate of my friend and the Kingdom, certainly," said Bayard, "but I have no fear for myself." An impish smile suddenly blossomed, "nor for our controversial lady."

"You were concerned that I would think ill of your character," said she with an arched brow, "but I think it is rather your sense with which I am most concerned."

Bayard grinned broadly, "come aunt, what has brought you to town so unseasonably?"

She stared at him for a moment with an unreadable expression, before her eyes narrowed, "why did you suggest the garden for this conversation?"

"I thought it likely to be abandoned at this hour," said he honestly, embarrassment tingeing his voice as he suddenly understood why it might not be an agreeable hour for such a stroll.

She smiled like a cat sighting a mouse, "why is it you can't marry the girl?"

His smile mimicked her own, "what is it you suspect, milady?"

"Humph," grunted she, as she boldly approached the nearest window and flung wide the heavy curtains that had heretofore draped the library in deepest shadow save the embers on the hearth, now flooding the room with moonlight.

Though he had suspected it from their strange conversation, seeing the truth of the matter still astonished Bayard. She grinned widely at him, "just how new are you to this service?"

"I have a full day under my belt," said he in feigned indignation, "how about you, madam?"

"It isn't polite to ask a lady her age, sir," chuckled she.

He arched an eyebrow, "and when was the last time you worried about age, milady? I believe time has not marred your person with its fingerprints for quite awhile."

"I was quite a girl," said she reminiscently, "probably of an age with your enigmatic young lady. Which begs the question, where is she?"

"Keeping an eye on the sleeping prince," replied Bayard with a grin most impish, "we are not so completely hopeless as you might think."

"I never said you were hopeless," smiled she, "only young and inexperienced. But it seems you are learning fast." Her smile became grim indeed, "let us hope, for the Kingdom's sake, that it is swift indeed." Her hand suddenly began to glow and a moment later the head groom was standing there blinking in astonishment for an instant before giving the great lady a perfect salute, "captain?!"

"Yes, lieutenant," said she, "welcome to our council of war." She turned questioning eyes upon her nephew as he lost control of his mirth. "And what is so funny, pray tell?" asked she quite stonily, but unable to completely hide the slight twinkle of merriment dancing in her eyes as she questioned the incorrigible boy.

"It is just the absurdity of the idea of an aged lady, a groom, a shepherdess, and a lad not yet legally considered a man intent on destroying the plots and schemes of an evil older than the world," said the boy, all grin.

"It is just another grand example of the 'foolish' things of the world upsetting all that is considered wise and important," said she with a chuckle, "get used to it, for it is now the world to which you belong. All that you once considered normal has now been utterly turned on its head. But then, the Power we serve is older than any foe we might face and it is His power that contends against such evils, through us perhaps, but certainly not of our own doing."

"You'll make a proper soldier out of him yet, milady," laughed the hostler.

"Yes," mused she with a slight, contemplative grin, "I believe I will at that." All seriousness again, she caught Bayard's gaze and said, "now tell us everything, lad."

Still not exactly sure what their plan entailed, but eager to have the very Captain of the Messengers herself involved, Bayard returned to his quarters with a far lighter step, though still somewhat stunned to find his ancient, spinster aunt as the leader of this peculiar band, so many strange things had assaulted his sensibilities of late that even this astonishing revelation hardly fazed him. The servant on duty outside the door appeared rather astonished that he left not only of his own volition but in a tolerably cheerful frame of mind. Bayard grinned at the poleaxed man, "no, my dear aunt is not losing her touch, rather the rumored iniquities of the conspirators are grossly exaggerated." He winked, "but you didn't hear that from me." The man nodded dazedly, eliciting a wide grin from the boy, who merrily continued on his way.

"I was right," grinned Claire, once they were alone in the young lord's chambers, "absolutely nothing of interest passed during my watch while your whole world suddenly went from black to white." Her grin widened, if that was possible, "and who would ever think that old dame could be the very Captain of the Messengers, how droll!"

"As to that," said Bayard, trying desperately to quash his own grin and appear all composed and serious, "the Captain doesn't think it necessary to ward the Prince at all times, as with the peculiar nature of our service, we'll be where we need to be, when we need to be there."

"That will certainly save us many nights of vain watching," said Claire eagerly, "I didn't give up watching sheep just to watch a man sleep. Now how are you planning to murder the prince or stop those that think you should?"

He shook his head, "that I don't know, but my aunt assures me she has a plan."

"And until then?" asked she.

His grin became amusement itself, "we continue as the Prince thinks we ought: namely parading you about as a lady of the court who vanishes mysteriously at inconvenient moments."

"And I suppose I get to vanish into a servant's garb rather than going about it in a more interesting fashion?" sighed she.

"A servant can go places that we high and mighty types cannot," said Bayard, "allowing you access to information we might not otherwise obtain."

"Much better," grinned she, "else I might have to return to my sheep as this whole adventure was beginning to look far less exciting than even a day with the flock, at least then there was a slight chance of a wolf making the day interesting."

"Well there shall be wolves aplenty here," said Bayard grimly, "for the very shadows have teeth!"

While the newest Messengers were holding their own little council, Great Aunt Irvina was in nowise idle. As a powerful and wealthy woman, not to mention one related to one of the realm's most powerful lords, she thought nothing of importuning the Prince's cousin as if he was just another naughty nephew, and the way so many of the great families were related, he must be to some degree, even be it ten or twenty times removed. He was rather astonished, not to mention quite powerless to do aught but gape, when she stormed into his quarters with only a polite knock to announce her entrance.

"What are you playing at?" growled she at the stymied youth.

But his annoyance, fury, and pride soon overcame his surprise, as he drew himself up and said coldly, "I do not know what you mean, madam?"

"You are dealing with powers far beyond mortal ken and can only be destroyed thereby!" retorted she.

Vlad scoffed, "did your precious little nephew panic and beg your interference?"

"You should be the one panicking," said she grimly, "I'm sure the boy can well manage the affair if left to his own devices, but as I am here, I don't think it is to sit idly by and watch! Now do you wish to be rescued from your folly or will you continue determinedly therein?"

"You're all going to die," smirked the aspiring villain in triumph.

"I highly doubt it," said she dangerously, "it is your own life and soul you should worry about!"

"Destroy her!" ordered the boy, as the candles suddenly sputtered out, throwing the room into absolute darkness.

"This is very unwise, lad!" said she in rising panic, not for herself but for the foolish youth who thought himself too wise to die, "You are loosing powers no mortal can contain or survive!"

"We'll see who has the right of it!" triumphed he, shouting the more, "Fall upon her and then destroy that Prince and everyone else!"

"This is madness," said she grimly, "but so be it!" Suddenly the room was too bright to look upon and exist, and when that deadly radiance subsided, the candles flickered happily back to life but there was no one there to notice their cheery light.

Claire gasped, "oh!" and suddenly vanished while Bayard's hand crept towards his sword hilt, drawing it forth and facing the door, under which slithered a shadow with nothing to cast it. Quick as thought, he had dispatched the creature and then vanished, appearing in room after room in quick succession, always finding a similar fiend intent on mischief towards some sleeping or otherwise unwitting occupant of the palace. So too were the other three Messengers occupied, until not one muttering shadow was to be found anywhere in the vast castle.

"Well done!" grinned the Captain upon her trio of myrmidons, "Not exactly the plan I was contriving, but rarely do our ideals play out in this business."

"Now what?" asked Claire, anxiously.

The Captain spitted her with a curious stare, "are you worried we have worked ourselves out of a job?"

"Yes, actually," grinned the girl ruefully.

"Lieutenant?" queried the Captain.

He saluted smartly and said eagerly, "have no fear of that milady, as long as time endures, such villains will ever be creeping in wherever they can increase evil or misery or chaos. We'll always have plenty to do, else we would cease to linger this side of eternity!"

"Satisfied?" asked that dread Aunt. They all nodded eagerly and she grinned approvingly, as she dismissed them saying, "that was a good night's work, but back to your posts, for the war is far from over!" And with a brilliant flash, they all dispersed to wherever it was they were next needed.

Dealings with Dragons

Sloppy, that was all that could be said for it. It was sheer laziness combined with a nasty streak of selfishness. The ancient creature snarled in indignation, highly insulted at this juvenile attempt to destroy something that had witnessed the dawn of time. Just because you see a dragon in the neighborhood does not mean property values would immediately plummet. There were certainly a few nasty members of the race still in existence, but for the most part these had made themselves an endangered species by uniting the very races they dared to prey upon in an attempt to rid themselves of such a deadly menace. Most dragons were content to live and let live, some benevolent creatures offered their accumulated wisdom to help those who sought it, and the few remaining vile dragons had secreted themselves well away from the habitations of other races of late, but in recent years men had made it something of a fad to seek out and challenge the sinister beasts, though it was inevitably the man who soon found himself spoken of in the past tense. There were ways to kill dragons, but it took thought, luck, planning, and a great deal of work and research. Aeril focused one great eye on the agonized boy writhing on the floor of the cave and shook his head in disgust. Not only was it sloppy, but it was downright murder.

Tiring of his exile in the great peaks of the north, Aeril had come south in search of a more agreeable climate and vainly hoped to find someone or something worth conversing with. Instead, the locals had glimpsed him from afar and went running home in a panic, determined to discover what their grandmothers remembered of dragonlore and hopeful that they would find an easy solution to a nonexistent problem. Apparently one aged dame remembered a near mythical weed that was fatal to dragons, but either forgot how best to administer the poison or the townsfolk decided they knew a better way to go about it than their ancestors. They gathered what they could of so-called dragonsbane, mixed it with who knew what, forced a fatherless waif to consume it, and then sent him into the hills in hopes the monster would consume the unfortunate lad and thus destroy himself. The problem was, even if this particular dragon had had a fondness for human flesh, the dose ingested by the lad was enough to give his devourer a bad case of indigestion but was far from enough to kill even the smallest dragon. It could be done, but it took time, forethought, and a large herbivore. The latter was undoubtedly part of the downfall of the plan, assuming they remembered how to go about it in the first place.

The farmers thereabouts were renowned for their cattle and would not waste even the sickliest beast on such an endeavor when there were other, more expendable, options to be had. The ancient method involved sowing the weed across a certain pasture in the spring and letting the chosen animal or animals graze all summer on the infested pasture, thus building up a great concentration of the toxin in their muscle tissue, and then allowing the beast or beasts to wander close to the lair of the troublesome dragon. But they would take neither the time nor risk one of their precious beasts, instead they thought to sacrifice an undesirable child and hoped the plan would somehow work. Instead, the boy lay dying of whatever else they mixed with the dragonsbane in hopes of supplementing the toxicity of the brew. The dragon snorted in grim amusement, the weed was not toxic to mammals and whatever poison they had mixed with it was not likely toxic to dragons. Amateurs! He snorted in disgust, murderers too! What was to be done? Did the boy deserve to die because his elders were fools?

Aeril had snatched up the lad when it became obvious that was what his folk were hoping. The boy was terrified, but whether more of the dragon or of what his folk had forced upon him, Aeril did not know. He explained a little of his situation before the poison had forced him into a miserable insensibility. His father had vanished many years before, apparently abandoning his wife and young son, but he and his mother had managed to scrape by over the years, at least until the poor woman died of late, leaving the lad an orphan indeed. The townsfolk had considered him a nuisance, but ignored him as long as he did not cause any trouble, but with the death of his mother, his extreme poverty was now at the point of desperation and would undoubtedly be seen as their concern by nosy outsiders. They wanted nothing more than to be rid of him and the dragon both, thus it was seen as an expedient method of killing two pests with one draught. Aeril blew out his nostrils in disgust; he felt he had to do something, but what? It was not as if there was an antidote or time to give one if there were. The boy needed a miracle.

He smiled at this, it was certainly worth a try. He took up the writhing form and took to the air, wondering if this might not prove a fool's errand after all. He flew far beyond the village, past the requisite greenwood, until at last he found the Fairywood. He found a large clearing in the vast sea of trees and set down, hoping the denizens would be curious as to why a dragon had suddenly decided he was an arboreal creature. They gathered quickly, an impressive collection of mythic and legendary forms, eager to see what this strange visitor might have to say. He laid the senseless boy on the sward and said to the gathered woodfolk, some of whom snarled in contempt upon recognizing his burden and likely quest, "are any of you adept in the healing arts?" Their fears confirmed, most melted silently away into the surrounding forest while the rest stared at the ground, muttering incoherently about their various excuses. "He is dying!" snarled the dragon, "Will you just let him die?" A dragon of this size and age had a very impressive voice when agitated, which sent most of the reluctant mumblers dashing away in terror, leaving a single unicorn to face the dragon's wrath.

Said Aeril hopefully, "you will help him?"

The unicorn snorted in contempt, "help a man? Are you mad? Of all the races, his is the most deplorable. Let the creature die and good riddance."

The entire forest came very close to becoming a legend itself that day, but thankfully the dragon had learned to control his temper over the years, and thus curbed his fire. He could not believe the heartlessness of not only the boy's own folk but also of these supposedly far wiser Fairyfolk! He could understand lack of ability to aid the boy but this complete lack of interest in so wretched a creature was disgusting! "Then," said the dragon, "let this curse be upon you all, may you become that which you so utterly despise!"

The unicorn laughed scornfully, "when did you become a sorcerer and a spellcaster, lizard?"

He dashed off into the wood before the dragon could answer, but another voice asked, "would you lay so harsh a curse on others, had you the ability?" The dragon cowered, though the speaker was merely a bird perched on a swaying branch, "I do not think you possess the wisdom or authority to judge your fellow creatures thus. They were callous to your good intentions, completely lacking in mercy and grace, but you will not be the one to condemn them. There is but one Judge and yet will His judgment wait a little while in hopes that all might one day bend knee to Him." Continued the brazen little fowl, "take the boy, he will live a little longer, and bear him to the ruins that perch upon the far side of the mountains, overlooking the sea."

The dragon stared, "but those ruins are supposed to be haunted."

The magpie chirruped a laugh, "a dragon is afraid of the shades of men, if such things even exist? Fear not, there is nothing to fear in that old castle, at least not for you. Go!"

The dragon sat up and shivered, who was this little avian scavenger that he could elicit such terror in the greatest of beasts? He looked to the boy and found him still unconscious, but the pain and fear were gone from his face; he slept peacefully like a man in his own bed. He swept up the lad and was soon aloft, wondering what could avail him in the forgotten ruins high above the sea. In ancient days they were the heart and soul of a great Kingdom, rich in wisdom and virtue, but men had fallen far since those days, preferring ignorance and greed. The Kingdom had collapsed in civil war and chaos and eventually became many smaller and meaner lands. Now it was said only memory and dust dwelt there, and some whispered that darker things too kept a sleepless watch over the ruins of the past.

Night was deepening as the dragon landed near the crumbling castle. He could see well enough in the dark, but he was too big to make much progress into the interior of the castle without causing it to fall into further ruin, if not the sea. He decided to wait and see what the morning would bring. He was to find no rest that night however, for it was not long before a man bearing a lantern came to investigate this strange visitor. The dragon snorted at his previous fears, ghosts did not carry lanterns and people who did would not long dwell in a place infested with phantasms.

The man turned out to be an elf, who studied the dragon and his burden with curiosity but no surprise, said he, "come." The dragon rose to his feet, and bearing the senseless boy, followed awkwardly after. They entered the main gates of the castle, which had long since fallen to dust, and easily admitted even so great a beast. "You can go no further," said the elf, "you may leave the lad here and I will see to him. Feel free to go or stay."

The dragon snorted, "I have not borne him all this way for nothing, I will know the end of the tale. Why help him when all of your woodland kin would sit by and do nothing?"

The elf shook his head, "we may be distant cousins, but their behavior will not dictate my own. I remember the days when men, and elves too, were of a nobler spirit. This Kingdom shall never rise again while the sun and moon endure, but perhaps some of its ideals may live on, for such were before Time was. I am all that remains of those days, save these tumbled stones." He was lost for a moment in vanished days, but shook himself back to the present. Then said he, in a voice of command, "waken lad, time grows short." The boy's eyes fluttered open and he stared about in astonishment, blinking at the strange apparitions of dragon and elf in the fitful light of the lantern. The elf offered him a hand, saying, "you have little time and important decisions to make. Come."

Said the dragon in some concern, "can you not heal him?"

The elf shook his head grimly as the boy gained his feet, "death will have its due but there are greater things in the world and beyond it than that fell specter. Follow me, lad," said the elf, "your draconian friend is too large to accompany us." The wide-eyed boy said nothing, thinking himself in a delirium, but silently obeyed. They left the main courtyard of the crumbling palace and followed a path that descended seemingly into the very heart of the rock on which the castle perched. They wound their way deeper and deeper into the stony confines of the castle's very foundations, until at last the boy felt they must be at or below the level of the sea.

Finally the elf halted and lifted his lantern high, the boy shivered to find himself in the ancient burial chambers of the deceased Kingdom. The elf pointed to a stony bed that lay empty, saying, "here you may rest lad, if that is your desire. Sleep the sleep of death with many a King and noble Lord beside you. At least your mortal shell will find such solace."

The boy stared at this grim messenger and asked, "what do you mean by that?"

The elf shrugged, "the destiny of any man's soul is far outside my ken, be it eternal darkness or wonder beyond our meager comprehension."

The boy shivered, "I had not given it all that much thought before, my mother would speak of such things from time to time, but I am young, and thought such matters were of little account to me." He glanced at the shadowy forms of long dead Kings, barely visible in the flickering light, and continued, "but it seems these matters are far more relevant than I had anticipated. You said there were decisions to be made?"

The elf's tone became less grim and warmed considerably, "you have yet a little time before your decision, or lack thereof, becomes final." He began to ascend from the burial chamber and the boy gladly hastened after. As they climbed the long, dark stair back to the realm of the living, the elf asked, "and what is it your mother taught you when you thought yourself too young to ever die?"

The boy said in thoughtful reflection, "she said there was One who loved wretched humanity so much that He left eternity, glory, and splendor unimagined, to come and dwell a mortal man, died a hideous death at the hands of those He came to save, and thereby spared us all from eternal night, paying the price we owe in our stead. But there can be no such love, not in a world like this! Look what my own folk have done to me. It can be nothing but foolishness and wishful thinking."

The elf smiled, "a wise woman was your mother. It is foolishness and wishful thinking, but no less true for all of that. It was a scandal in the days He walked the earth and has been whispered about in shocked tones ever since. It is quite unthinkable, impossible even, yet true. Now will you believe it, accept His grace, serve Him alone, or will you reject Him and enter eternal night, which is simply separation from Him and everything He has made and done?"

The boy smiled incredulously, "you believe all that?"

The elf laughed, "certainly lad, as did your esteemed mother and she was no fool I think."

The boy's smile became whole hearted and eager, "I have run from it my entire life, ignored it, in hopes of finding my own way but I see now that the end thereof is ultimately death. If what you say is true, that my own death is imminent, how then can I serve Him? I can only believe and die and see what comes after."

The elf shrugged but hid a secret smile, "perhaps, perhaps, but this is just the beginning, not the end of everything, as you mortals so often seem to think. You were made for eternity and for a little while are clad in mortal flesh. I envy your kind lad, in that you will know things, of which I am very curious, long before ever I will have that chance. Living forever is not as glamorous or wonderful as your kind imagines; one tends to outlive everything that lends joy and wonder to life while the misery and sorrow seem never to fade. I can do naught but look patiently to the distant horizon and see that small glimmer of hope that arises at the sunset of time. You will see those things this very night."

The boy sighed deeply, "what you say heartens me, but I am still very young and have done nothing with my life. I have spent what little time I have had avoiding Him, only to come begging at the last."

The elf nodded, "fear not lad, we are all of us wretched beggars in His sight, yet He willingly bestows His grace and mercy on all who ask it." They had reached the door into the outer world, where the dragon waited impatiently to see what had come of their subterranean adventure. It was now the deepest part of the night, gloomy clouds shrouded the stars, and there would be no moon.

"Now what?" asked the boy in dread, as they emerged into the open.

"We will watch with you," said the elf solemnly.

The boy nodded resignedly, seating himself on a broken stone bench on one side of the courtyard. He smiled weakly, "you will just sit here and watch me die?"

The elf said solemnly, "it will not be the first time I have kept such a vigil."

The dragon said in suppressed eagerness, "what did you discover in the bowels of this crumbling keep?"

The boy smiled in spite of himself, "death, and hope beyond it."

The dragon blew out his nostrils in irritation, "is that all? I had thought we might accomplish something of import with all the bother we have gone to."

The elf said sternly, "and what is more important than the fate of an immortal soul?"

The dragon blinked in astonishment at a rebuke from so small a creature and then he laughed, "one of _them_ , are you?" He frowned at the boy, "you have corrupted him as well?"

The elf smiled, "not I, but his own mother."

The boy looked in surprise at the dragon, "you do not believe?"

The dragon snorted, "of course I believe, I saw the events unfold. I acknowledge their historicity but I will not admit that they have any relevance to me. Man might need a savior." He glanced at the smirking elf, "and well might elfkind, but dragons are not wrought of such flimsy stuff. We need none but ourselves."

The elf crossed his arms skeptically, "so why did you try to help this boy if you have no use for the higher things in life?"

The dragon hissed a laugh, "can I not be a noble creature without being a slave to a certain ideology?"

The elf smiled, "from whence do such noble aspirations spring my friend, but from the very heart of Him who wrought the stars. You may think yourself immune to their influence, but it is the true source of all that is good, true, noble, beautiful, and wonderful. You may claim that they arise solely from your noble heart and good intentions, but as a creature made in His image, you can claim no credit for these reflections of His own qualities. You do well in acting upon these impulses, but they do not prove that you are a creature who needs none but himself."

The dragon sighed, "you turn my own weapons against me elf, you are quite a skilled adversary but do not think you have thus conquered me."

The elf shrugged, "that is your own affair my friend, but I will not have you deluded into thinking yourself great when you are no more wonderful than anything or anyone else that our Master has wrought. Were you not astounded at the heartlessness of the fairyfolk to the boy's plight? So do I caution you that such an attitude is slowly growing in your own heart, regardless of the good deeds you use to convince yourself and others that you are better, truer, and nobler than the common get of creation."

The dragon muttered, "why did I ever come south! I should have remained quietly at home and would have been bothered with none of this. Why did I ever decide to cross wits with this irrepressible elf?"

The boy had been listening to their debate with great interest, but as they bantered, he felt increasingly tired and soon lost all focus on what went on around him. He lay back against the wall, thinking only to rest for a few moments but as the darkness encroached, he knew it would not be moments after all. The dragon ceased his mumbling when he finally remembered their current duty and turned to look upon the boy. The elf followed his gaze and hurried to the unmoving boy's side, shaking his head after a brief study of their companion.

The dragon rumbled in irritation, "that is it then? All this for nothing?"

The elf said with ill-contained eagerness, "not so fast. The story has only begun, and if you will oblige me one last time, there is one small task with which I need your assistance. Wait here."

The dragon raised his orbital crests in incredulity but made no attempt to leave as he had intended. The elf dashed off with all the alacrity and grace of his kind; he returned quickly with a pile of rusty armor, dusty weapons, and rotting leather. He placed the heap of debris near the dragon, who sniffed in disdain as the elf dashed off again. This time he was longer in coming, but returned with a crystal pitcher of some liquid that glowed slightly in the darkness. Now the dragon was curious. He watched in wonder as the elf poured whatever it was over not only the boy, but also on the pile of castoffs. A small amount of the fluid remained and the elf vanished into the collapsed remains of what once were the stables. Upon his return, the flagon was empty and the dragon had to ask, "what did you do with the rest of it?"

The elf only smiled and the dragon sighed, "you poured this mysterious liquid on a pile of rusting armor and on a dead man. Do not tell me you wasted the rest on an equally dead horse?"

The elf nodded, "exactly."

The dragon shook his head, "talk about wishful thinking! Now they are not only dead, but wet! What a miracle!"

The elf smiled, "just wait, but will you take the boy and these things back to your lair?"

The dragon said dryly, "what, not the horse too?"

The elf shrugged, "if you want to, but I thought that would be a bit much to carry and the beast can find its own way."

"I am sure," said the dragon sarcastically, "fine, I will dispose of the boy and this pile of junk, but then I will have nothing more to do with you or your precious Master."

The elf nodded and said with a grin, "we shall see. You can say you will have nothing more to do with something, but it is the Master's will that shall prevail and I do not think He is quite done with any of us yet."

The dragon laughed in spite of himself, "be that as it may, perhaps I shall come back of my own accord, if ever I desire a rival worthy of another debate. Until then, farewell!" He took up his burden and was soon lost in the darkness.

The elf smiled amusedly, wishing he could be there to see the dragon's face when things began to happen. The sound of approaching hooves drew his attention and he turned to face whomever these intruders might be. Few were those bold enough to visit this old ruin, fewer still were those that came on such a dark night. Six men, smelling of filth and alcohol, drew rein in the courtyard, completely surrounding the elf. The apparent leader stared at the elf and looked eagerly at the empty pitcher in his hand, demanding, "where is the water?"

The elf said conversationally, "there is no water here, the well has long been dry. Any that is needed must be hauled a great distance."

"The Water of Life, you fool!" snarled the man, "My master assures me it is here and that it must not be used unworthily." The man dismounted and rudely approached the elf, snatching the pitcher from his hand and staring into its depths. He threw the empty vessel to the ground where it shattered, as he snarled, "where is the rest?"

The elf shook his head, "that was all in my possession."

"You lie," snarled the man as he thrust his dagger into the elf's abdomen, "We will find it ourselves."

The elf went to his knees in agony but said only, "there is nothing to find."

The dirty men dispersed and searched the ruin thoroughly, right down to the skeletal Kings in the basement, but found nothing. The vile man returned to the miserable elf, lifted him by the collar, and snarled into his face, "you will tell us where to find more or your death shall be long and painful."

The elf said weakly, "there is nothing to find. What little I had was given for an appointed purpose and for that has it been used."

The man thrust the elf away from him and snarled, "now what? Our master will be far from pleased if we return with nothing."

A vile shadow fell on the little gathering as a great raven lit on the battlements and croaked, "he will be quite displeased indeed and it will not go well with any of you. But perhaps you can yet ransom your pathetic lives and even gain power thereby."

The men shivered and their leader begged, "what must we do?"

The man paled as the bird spoke but dared not defy this terrible creature, who was more than a mere bird. He immediately drew his sword and beheaded the elf. Four of the six knelt down and took some of the blood on their fingers, taking some on their own tongues and then forcing the rest into the mouths of their quite unwilling horses. Man and beast collapsed in writhing agony, while the two abstainers drew as far from the spectacle as they could. When they finally regained their feet, hideous was the only word to describe the lot of them.

The raven croaked in triumph, "now ride! Go forth and wreak havoc in my name!" The four vile horsemen were soon mounted on their dreadful beasts and galloped into the waning night. The bird turned his beady eyes upon the two objectors and snarled, "and you prefer death?"

Said the boldest of the pair, "I did not sign up for this! I needed money but I do not need it that bad."

"Very well," hissed the raven, "stay here and die of thirst or leave this ruin and die immediately. The choice is yours." He squawked a cruel laugh and winged off into the night. The two collapsed in terror and exhaustion, leaning against the far wall, as if it was their only connection to life and sanity, but even this anchor began to tremble and quiver, as if in an earthquake.

They fled to the middle of the courtyard in terror, yet avoided the murdered elf as best they could. The pale grey of dawn was beginning to creep into the East, but there was no sound of bird or rustle of leaf, only the rumble of the stones about them. They dared not leave the courtyard, for they knew the bird had not spoken in vain of the curse that was now upon them. They could only tremble in the middle of the ruin and hope dawn would restore some semblance of sanity to their shattered minds. But it was not dawn that next intruded itself upon them, but rather another avian form. A little magpie lit on the wall, studied the situation, and flitted to the place where the elf lay in a pool of his own blood. The two men watched in horrified wonder as the bird touched his bill to the scarlet pool and it suddenly turned silver as a puddle of mercury. A light consumed the elf in its midst, forcing all to turn away or go blind. When the light dimmed, the elf knelt in astonishment before the little carrion fowl, who spoke to him in words unknowable to mortal mind. He took up his pitcher, restored to perfection, and filled it with the silver liquid then dashed once more to the stables.

The bird then turned to the terrified men, "you have done well to reject the darkness, but still you linger in the shadows. Will you not step fully into the Light?"

The boy who had answered the raven stepped forward and said, "who are you and what would you have of me?"

He cocked his head at the audacious boy, "I am Myself. I would have all creation willingly obedient to My will." The boy smiled in delight and wonder, immediately kneeling before this miniscule avian form.

His companion watched in astonishment but could keep silent no longer, "has the whole world gone mad? I will bow to neither the vile nor the wonderful! What curse must I endure in refusing you too?"

The magpie said sadly, "no curse is laid upon you child, save that which you willingly take upon yourself in refusing Me: to separate yourself utterly from all that I am and all that I have wrought. Remember that I am the Source of all that is good, right, wonderful, noble, and beautiful. You will exile yourself into eternal misery and darkness."

The man smirked, "I am content with myself and need no other."

The bird bowed His head, "and that is all you shall have, forever."

The man scoffed, "I will take my chances."

"Very well," said He, "but I also release you from the curse the Enemy has laid upon you, go forth and live how it pleases you best." The man stared at Him in astonishment, but quickly dashed from the Keep, fearing He would change His mind. He returned His attention to the kneeling boy before Him, "you are looking for a purpose and direction in life? Perhaps you would be willing to find something worthwhile beyond it?" The boy nodded eagerly and the bird lit on his shoulder, inhaling sharply. The bird took wing as the boy fell dead, face down in the silver pool. A great light consumed him momentarily and he sat up as it subsided, smiling in wonder. The elf returned from the stable and the magpie said in parting, "ride forth children, oppose those fell creatures My Enemy has this day unleashed upon the unsuspecting world. Farewell!" He vanished in a brilliant flash of light as Kyan gained his feet and the elf, Ithril, came running forward.

They studied one another and themselves for a moment before exchanging a wondering smile that said more than a lifetime of conversation might. As Kyan stepped from the silver pool it immediately evaporated, leaving no trace it had ever been. Ithril smiled, "to think that is what they came here seeking, yet none finds it unbidden."

The boy shivered, "what would come of a man, had he touched it thus?"

The elf shook his head, "he would live forever in his wretched state, which might as well be called a living death."

Kyan nodded and asked, "much as what has befallen my former companions?"

The elf shuddered, "nay, theirs is a worse fate, if there can be such a thing. They are slaves of evil, hideous creatures beyond death but that will never again taste of new life."

Kyan put his hand on his sword hilt, "and now our greatest foes."

Ithril nodded, smiling grimly, "come, we have our orders."

Kyan grinned, "what were you doing in there for so long?" The elf smiled mysteriously, whistled, and a chorus of eager equine voices answered his call. Three of the most wonderful horses that either of them had ever seen came bounding out of the ramshackle stable and then stood frisking and tossing their heads in anticipation. "So are we horsed," said Kyan, impressed, "but what about all else we will need to fight those horrid creatures?"

Ithril swung himself onto the back of the nearest beast and said with a laugh, "I know a dragon that is sitting on a collection that will just suit us and he thinks it nothing more than rotting junk."

Kyan was impressed, "I have never heard of a dragon that has not known the full value of his hoard before."

Ithril smiled, "this one has a hard time believing in things he cannot see, but we shall show him there are greater things beyond sight or belief. Come!" Kyan mounted likewise and like clouds driven before the wind, they and their fantastic mounts were gone.

Corbin knelt before the King, a knight in all his splendor, wondering what this private meeting could mean. The King said, without asking the man to stand, "a grave choice lies before you Sir Knight." Corbin's heart quivered, what could these strange words portend? Perhaps a secret quest most perilous? Had he perhaps lost the favor of his lord and now must face the consequences? Continued the King, grimly, "I have many Knights, but only one Queen, thus my choice though painful, is not difficult. You have served well in the short time you have been in my service, but alas, you have caught the eye of the Queen." Corbin's heart froze as the King went on, "therefore I must be rid of you, for I cannot allow such a distraction to tempt the Queen and risk the infamy that will undoubtedly follow. This is of course unfortunate, for I fully believe you had no say in the matter, but it is still a problem with whose consequences you must grapple. The greatest service you can now render your King and country is to die valiantly on some noble quest. Otherwise, if you prefer, a quiet execution can be arranged."

Corbin stared at the King in horror; he must commit suicide because the Queen was unfaithful? The King continued, "exile, of course is not an option, for the Queen may still yearn after you from afar and there is always a slight chance that you might return in secret and use the Queen's affections for your own gain. I doubt you would prefer imprisonment or disfigurement to death?"

Corbin shuddered at the thought and said quietly, "if it must be so Sire, it must be so. I have sworn myself to your service to the death; so be it. Send me to whatever end you desire and I will face it boldly."

The King smiled sadly, "a true heart to the end I see; it shall be a pity to lose such a man. There is a vile dragon that has been plaguing a neighboring Kingdom and they are asking for the aid of all their allies in ending this menace. The beleaguered King has a younger daughter that my eldest son favors and if one of my Knights should destroy the beast, it would go far in furthering the match."

Corbin bowed, "I will go Sire, but how am I to best the creature? One man against a dragon is simply a snack, not a true threat."

The King nodded, "I have just the horse for you. He is an aging warhorse that has been eating a very special hay for several years now, for just such a circumstance. Take him and the dragon shall have his last meal." Corbin bowed once more and left to make preparations for his final quest.

Aeril tiredly winged his way back to his cave after his strange adventure, vowing never to do another creature a favor for as long as he lived. He laid the dead boy and the soggy refuse to one side and crawled to the back of the cave, tired enough to sleep for a year or three. As he was drifting to sleep, he idly wondered if the locals would think themselves successful when they did not see their draconian nemesis emerge for many a day. What a surprise they would have when he finally came forth when they thought themselves secure. Perhaps he would eat a few of their best bulls just to spite them. He had been dozing for perhaps an hour when he heard the unmistakable sound of claws scrabbling on stone and felt a gust of wind on his scales. He snorted in disgust and lumbered to the front of the cave, wondering who was so rude as to interrupt his nap, for it could only be another dragon come a'visiting to make such a ruckus. He glanced curiously at the dead boy in passing, but the corpse lay still as ever. That elf must have been reading too much poetry or something; he was half mad with his learning and legends!

A small (and therefore young) dragon was sitting at the entrance of the cave, sniffing cautiously and glancing curiously about. "Yes?" snarled Aeril at the impertinent intruder, "This cave is taken."

The youngster hissed his affront, "I know, I came to see you."

Aeril rumbled deep in his throat, "and what would you have of me?" Dragons as a rule did not often go on social calls. If it were not love it must be some scheme or other and as this was another male, it must be the latter. "Whatever it is," snarled Aeril, "I am not interested."

"Really?" hissed the younger in contempt, "Have you not come to be a scourge to the men of this country? I have become a veritable plague to the men just west of here. Can we not join forces and terrify the whole country hereabouts? Do I not smell the glorious scent of death all about you?"

Aeril shook his head in amused annoyance, would that boy never cease to cause him trouble, even when he was dead? He growled at the young dragon, "go back to whatever mischief you prefer but leave me out of it. Killing men is a good way to get yourself killed! I want no part of it, as to whatever it is you smell, mind your own business." There was such anger and revulsion in the elder's words that the younger drew back in terror, not wishing to push the ancient beast too far.

He turned to go but hissed in farewell, "I thought to share the glory and the treasure, but I see you are too tame and gentle a creature to be bothered with such trifles." Aeril shook his head in disdain and turned to resume his nap.

He stared in amazement but then averted his gaze in pain, the entire cave was filled with a blinding light which gradually receded to reveal the boy sitting up and glancing about curiously. Aeril snarled in more amazement than irritation, "have you not caused me enough problems boy? Can you not remain properly dead?"

The boy stood and smiled impishly at his discomfited host, "perhaps if you believed in miracles such happenings would not be seen as a problem?"

The dragon shook his head impatiently, "whatever you were intending to embroil me in, the answer is still no!"

The boy shook his head in amusement, "you can go back to your nap for all of me. I will just wait for a few friends and then we shall trouble you no more."

"Friends?" snapped Aeril, "What kind of a party are you throwing and why does it have to be in my cave?" He showed his teeth in a grim smile, "perhaps I should eat you and endure the bellyache, just to be rid of you."

Bayard shrugged, "you are welcome to try but I doubt it will avail you."

"True," said the dragon thoughtfully, "I suppose a man can die but once, but if so, what are you still doing here?"

Bayard smiled, "my Master has set us a task and we will see it through."

"Who is we?" snapped the groggy dragon.

"You have forgotten us already?" came a familiar voice.

The dragon sighed heavily and turned his glare on the irksome elf, "what are you miscreants up to?"

Ithril smiled, "just our Master's business and of absolutely no interest to an esteemed skeptic like you."

Kyan followed him into the cave, as the dragon snorted, "at least you are right about that. Take your friends and your rubbish and be gone!"

Bayard laughed, "as you wish it, sir. I thank you for all your pains on my behalf. Farewell!" He bowed politely, gathered up an armload of the so-called rubbish, as did his two companions, and then they hastened from the cave. The dragon watched them go, only a little disappointed to miss the adventure, and then rolled over and finally got his much needed nap.

Kyan commented, as they left the dragon to his slumber, "I never thought to loot a dragon's lair!"

Ithril shook his head, "we are not so much looting his lair as taking out the trash, at least as far as he is concerned." He dropped his armload in a pile and the others did likewise. Continued he with a pleased smile, "but to us and our quest, these items shall be invaluable."

Bayard's smile deepened as he studied the jumbled items before them, it looked to be enough equipment to exactly outfit three Knights-errant. Bayard looked up with a smile of anticipation on his face, "and how are we to be horsed." Ithril smiled and whistled up their equine companions in answer.

Kyan said thoughtfully, "there are only three of us but there are four of our foes."

"For now," said Bayard knowingly.

Corbin was packed and on his way while the rest of the world still had an hour of sleep yet to enjoy. Even the earliest bird still had his head tucked beneath his wing. It seemed only he and the aging gelding moved upon the whole face of the world, but one of the Queen's handmaids saw him and quickly ran to inform her mistress. The Queen was annoyed to be wakened at such an hour but when the girl told the cause for her alarm, she quickly donned her clothes and hastened after the departing Knight. Corbin was astonished to see the Queen blocking his way as he tried to leave the Keep. Said she in alarm, "whence go ye, Sir Knight? Might I wish you a swift return?"

He bowed in his saddle and said gravely, "nay lady, I go forth but ride not home. There is a thing that must be done and it shall be the death of me." She stepped aside in wonder and the Knight hastened on his way, knowing that this one moment of astonishment was his last, best chance to escape without long delay. She stared after him in irritation, why was it that any man who caught her eye always found some noble quest upon which to spend himself utterly? She sighed, pulled her cloak about her, and stole back to her chambers. Perhaps she should pretend to be smitten with some homely groom or an ancient drudge and see what the King would do then. The thought amused her and her once desired Knight was soon forgotten.

Corbin rode to the neighboring Kingdom, presented himself to the distraught King, and then rode out to make an end of the beast and undoubtedly himself. The place stank of death; the bones of men and beasts lay scattered about like branches after a flood. The horse whickered nervously, but true to his training, did not bolt in fear or fight his master as he guided them both to their doom. Corbin drew his sword, determined to make a grand but futile show of his last charge, and then called the beast forth. But no answer came. The monster was not at home. Corbin sighed, turned his horse, and wondered how long he might have to wait. He had resigned himself to his fate, but was not sure his courage would last indefinitely until the monster returned. A shriek of fury put his fears to rest as the young dragon returned to his lair to find supper waiting for him; he was still fuming from the older dragon's insulting treatment and he was eager to vent his wrath on someone, anyone. This upstart knight was just the thing.

He landed, wanting to taunt his victim and show him the full futility of his actions before making an end of him. Snarled he, "come to fight the dragon? Alas your lady will never see you more!"

Corbin raised his sword and readied his charge, "come beast, let us not mince words! I have come to make an end of you or you of me. Let us see who lives and who dies, like sensible creatures."

The dragon snarled in approbation, "no boasts or threats? No vainglory to dispel? At last, a reasonable man! I wonder, do you taste better than your more pompous brothers in arms? A pity you will not live to pass on your sense, though how much sense can you have in appearing before me like this? Nay, it is well you shall pass from the earth with all your wretched kind!" The knight raised his sword as the creature pounced, but it merely splintered on his impenetrable hide; the same could not be said for tooth and claw upon the knight's metal carapace. The creature glutted itself gladly on man and beast alike, sated, it crawled into its cave for a rest from which it would never waken. The great horse had been fed a steady diet of dragonsbane for the last few years and thereby fulfilled the grim words of Aeril.

But the bones of man and horse would not be left to rot like the carcass of the fell beast, for a little bird had seen them fall. The magpie hopped about amongst the shattered bones and scattered mail, as if seeking something. A small puddle caught His eye, where the contents of the tattered waterskin had pooled amongst the carnage. He touched it lightly with His bill, it radiated a golden light, and He stepped gaily in and splashed about in the manner of all avian things. He emerged and shook His feathers dry, splashing water all about Him. The bones began to glow and tremble in excitement and quickly drew themselves together into a man and horse once more. Corbin stared in wonder at the small avian form that winked one bright eye and then vanished. He immediately mounted the now spry horse and they galloped off faster than eye could follow.

He returned to the King of that country and said that the dragon would trouble him no further. The King was astonished and grateful and eagerly offered the hand of his youngest daughter as reward. The Knight bowed deeply and said, "nay Majesty, it is not for me to marry, bestow her beautiful hand on a more worthy man than I."

The King said in some surprise, "has your Lord forbidden you this reward in hopes that it might pass to his own son?"

Corbin smiled wistfully, "nay Sire, I am under an oath that forbids such an attachment. Do as you will with the young Prince and his interest in your daughter."

The King sighed, "is there nothing you will take in thanks for your service to my country?"

The man shook his head and said gravely, "the safety of your people is reward enough, Highness. I bid you farewell!"

The King blinked and the man was gone. He ran to the outer door of the chamber and flung it wide but the corridor was empty; the servants and guards posted there stared at their sovereign as if they feared for his sanity. Asked he of them, "a young Knight has not come this way?" They assured him that he had entered through the door but had not left thereby. The King shook his head, "an oath indeed! There are strange things afoot I think." He turned back into the chamber and shut the door behind him, leaving the servants to wonder uneasily amongst themselves.

Corbin swiftly bypassed the King and the various servants and soldiers standing at the ready; they could neither see nor touch him, unless he wanted them to. It would certainly be a useful skill in this strange new world in which he found himself; he smiled, wondering what other strange proclivities he would discover in the days to come. He found his horse waiting and the beast whinnied in greeting upon his master's return. The pair exited the castle in a visible fashion, at least until they were out of sight of the town, then they vanished with the creature's amazing speed. The sun had moved not at all when they were standing at the castle gates of his own country.

The guards let him pass without challenge, but exchanged astonished looks amongst themselves. They had heard his errand and wondered whether he had actually survived or if he had returned a coward. He said nothing to anyone, save to nod in greeting to various former acquaintances. He left the horse standing in the courtyard and set forth immediately to find the King, but the Queen's handmaid found him first. Said she all aflutter, "will you not see my Lady, Sir? She was dreadfully worried about your safety and will be overjoyed to know of your return."

He pitied the poor creature, prisoner as she was of her mistress' will, said he quietly, "I will attend your Lady if I must but she will little like the interview I think, or rather scolding as it is like to be." The timid creature paled but urged him to follow, perhaps less enthusiastically than before.

He followed the tremulous girl to her lady's chambers, where she asked him to wait while she announced him. The door was opened to admit him soon after, but the Queen did not rise eagerly in greeting as one might think, if she were as anxious as the girl implied. Rather she lounged quite comfortably on an overstuffed sofa, draped in luxuriant robes and blankets with a table of every delightful foodstuff imaginable at her elbow. "Reconsidered have we?" said she with an indolent yawn, "You think to come begging back into my good graces?"

Corbin was only slightly taken aback at her languor and insinuating tone, saying solemnly, "I had not thought to see you at all Lady, rather your maiden seemed quite desperate for this audience, so am I come and can just as easily excuse myself if my presence is an annoyance."

She sat up upon hearing his threat to leave and said more seriously, "let us not be hasty, perhaps I spoke rashly out of the fear I have suffered on your behalf. Will you not slip into something more comfortable and be seated, that we may talk of your adventures?"

Corbin shook his head grimly, "nay Lady, I am not come for chit chat, but rather to warn you."

She smiled hungrily, "come Sir, you jest! Be seated and regale me with your exploits."

"I will stand Lady and you would be well served to listen keenly," said he gravely, "you cannot continue in this manner. The blood of innocent men is on your hands! You must remain faithful to your husband and not allow your hungry eyes to roam lest you bring disaster to yourself, the King, and perhaps all the Kingdom!"

She laughed scornfully, "I would not have allowed my eyes to linger had I known you were such a prude! Does my attraction not flatter you? Would you not do anything your Queen would ask of you? Rather you lecture me as if I am some wanton peasant rather than the Lady of your Liege lord. I will not tell him that you have dared accost me in my own chambers if you will sit down and for one moment forget your regrettable sense of honor."

Corbin bowed his head sadly, "the only thing regrettable, Lady, is your impropriety and the lives you thereby endanger. You have already cost three men their lives, it will not be so again, for your blood shall be required of you at the next breach of your marital fidelity."

She stared at him like a hunted wolf, "you threaten me?"

He bowed as he made to withdraw, "nay Lady, I only bring you warning. Your actions alone shall condemn you. Farewell."

The moment the door closed behind him, she snarled at her maids, "get my gown, I must present myself to the King!"

Corbin shuddered to think the Queen so dissolute and what a torment it must be for her husband and children, and what it might do to the stability of the realm. He found a servant and asked after an audience with the King. The servant stared at him in wonder but quickly dashed off to see if the King was available. He returned out of breath, but eager to announce that the King would indeed see him. The King was far from delighted to see the man alive and even less so that he had returned. Corbin said, after making the proper courtesies, "I will not stay long Sire but have a message for you. The Queen no doubt will soon present herself and tell you of my temerity or worse, tell some tale of her own making. You must bring the woman to heel before she ruins you, your family, and the entire Kingdom! Sending her would-be suitors to their deaths is outright murder and their blood is upon you both."

Outraged, the King snarled, "who are you to lecture me? Are you not a coward, else you would not be here!"

Corbin said quietly, "the dragon is dead Sire, I have done my duty as I am doing even now. The Queen must reform her ways or be made to reform them or must be put in a position where her iniquities will not taint all around her." Whereupon the Queen entered and shrieked her outrage at the King, upon sighting the very man who had sent her thither, seeking his head.

Corbin remained silent as she wept out a hideous tale of him trying to seduce her in her own chambers. The King obviously did not believe her but his ire at the man's audacity was enough to silence this minor objection, and his own guilt over what he had done to this boy and two others did not improve his mood. Said he in quiet wrath, once the Queen had subsided into quiet sobbing, "you may have survived the dragon boy, but you shall not live to see the morrow!"

Corbin said grimly, "Highness, I did not survive the dragon and come before you now only to deliver a message from a Source none should dare disregard." He spitted the Queen with a stare, "Lady, see the price of your lechery and be warned!" He fell to pieces, the gnawed and broken bones covered the elegant carpet and the whole room stank of death.

The Queen fainted and the King paled to the color of milk. His voice quavering, the King shrieked at the nearest servant, "fetch the Sage!" The horrified servant vanished at the run, quickly returning with a plainly robed man in his middle years.

The man glanced about in horror and then turned curious eyes to the King, "what has happened here, Majesty?"

The King stuttered, "I was hoping you could tell me, as the local expert in all things beyond mortal ken."

The sage smiled despite his horror, the King was not one to ask his opinion on anything, ever; he must be truly shaken. He picked up what appeared to be a broken rib and studied it curiously, "you must tell me the tale before I can advise you Sire." The King told the tale and the Sage looked grave, "there is blood on your hands Sire and your wife's behavior is inexcusable."

The King growled, "you sound like that ghost!"

The Sage shook his head, "not a ghost Sire, a messenger with a very shocking pronouncement."

The Queen roused from her faint and glanced about in confusion, thinking herself in a delirium. The scattered bones quickly informed her that it was horrifyingly real. She stared at the Sage with haunted eyes, "what has happened?"

The King groused, "he advises the same as the phantom! You must control yourself woman or we will all suffer!" At this pronouncement, she wept in true shock and horror, as a child scolded for some minor offense feels herself grievously offended.

The Sage said quietly, "Sire, you must attend to your wife, allow me and the servants to put this room back in order." The King nodded, and with the aid of several servants, managed to get the Queen out of the room, leaving the Sage momentarily alone.

Alone, except for the bones, one of which he still held. Suddenly they started to glow and rock, including the rib in his hand. He dropped it in wonder as they all flew together and produced a flash of blinding intensity. When next the Sage looked, a man knelt on the carpet, a Knight in full armor. The man stood and nodded a greeting to the Sage, whom he had known since boyhood. The Sage smiled in spite of himself, "Corbin?! You have given our poor Queen quite a shock."

Corbin smiled grimly, "perhaps it will be shock enough to make her reform her behavior."

The Sage replied, "we can only hope. What exactly have you gotten yourself into?"

Corbin smiled in wonder, "I hardly know, but it was none of my doing. I rode out to slay a dragon, knowing I would die in the process. And so I did, but our Master called me back and sent me to warn the King of what would come if his lady did not change her ways and seek repentance. And now there are other matters to which I must attend."

The Sage extended his hand and Corbin took it gladly, said the Sage, "I wish you well in whatever your strange new occupation my friend. I will see what, if anything, I can do for their Majesties." Corbin smiled, squeezed the man's hand, and vanished. The Sage smiled, shook his head, and went in search of the King.

The man rode into the village upon a well-bred and expensive horse, a sword on his hip, and wearing clothes far too fine for anyone but a lord or even a King, at least in the opinion of the locals. He glanced about eagerly, hoping for some sight or sign of those he had left behind. The villagers stared at him as if they had never glimpsed a stranger before, yet there was something vaguely familiar about him for all of his peculiarities. Finally, not seeing what he sought, he dismounted and approached the Mayor, to ask after his wife and son. The Mayor stared in amazement, "you?!? We all thought you dead or worse."

"It was worse," said the man grimly, "I was kidnapped, conscripted into the army of a foreign and distant land, torn away from what I love most, and only of late have I won my freedom. Where is my family?"

The Mayor quivered with terror, wondering if the man might not use him for sword practice if he were told the truth, but suddenly an idea occurred to him, as he said, "your wife died only a few months ago and your son was last seen in the clutches of our local dragon." The man stared at the fool before him, certain there was something he was not telling but unable to prove it.

Said he grimly, "where is this wondrous beast? I must see what came of the boy."

The Mayor stared, "you want to confront the monster? You may be too late; it has not stirred in days. We hope that it is dead."

The man shook his head; fool indeed! He had much to learn of dragonlore. "Where is the creature?" asked he again. The Mayor told him and was quite relieved when the man left, if only he assumed the boy died by the creature's claws then all would be well, but what if he didn't believe the half-truth? He smiled, maybe the monster wasn't dead after all! But what if the man returned and demanded an explanation? The Mayor was pale and shaken when he went back into his house, his wife and eldest son looked at him in great concern.

He told them his fears and the boy said eagerly, "fear not father, the man shall not trouble you any more than the rest of his family."

The Mayor looked at the boy and groaned, "do not make things worse for me lad." A nasty smile was the boy's only reply as he dashed from the house to make his preparations.

Garren left his horse at the foot of the rocky ridge where the monster had its lair, knowing the fool beast would panic the moment it scented dragon. He ascended on foot and soon came to the mouth of the cavern wherein the beast lurked; the constant, buzzing snore of the dragon proved that he was indeed among the living, if not the conscious. Garren, knowing more of dragons than perhaps the entire population of the village combined, was quite convinced this creature was not evil or even a threat to the witless folk in the valley below, but he needed to know what had come of his son, no matter the creature's moral proclivities. He did something very foolish, even when dealing with a friendly dragon, one does not usually approach the creature's head and waken it suddenly from a nap and hope to survive the creature's surprise. Thankfully, Aeril was not a jumpy creature and woke up with annoyance but not with violence. He stared at the impudent man with one great eye and snarled, "why can't I get a little sleep! What now?"

Garren took a step back and smiled at the beast, "the village folk said one of their lads was last seen in your company a few days ago. What came of him?"

The dragon yawned expansively before answering, "the boy is dead. What is that to you?"

Garren flinched as if he had been physically struck; he had not anticipated that both his wife and son would precede him in death. He fought back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him and said quietly, "he was my son. That fool of a Mayor said you had taken him. What happened?"

The dragon hissed, "did he also mention that it was his precious villagefolk that poisoned him?"

The man sat down heavily and said, "somehow that does not surprise me." The dragon then recounted his tale, save for the last, strange detail. The man said gravely, "I thank you for your trouble on his behalf. I will see to his burial if you will show me where he lies."

Aeril said skeptically, "there is nothing to bury! The boy was dead; he laid here for hours and neither moved nor breathed, yet he managed to get up and walk out of here on his own legs." The man stared at the dragon, wondering if madness were common amongst that kindred. The dragon shook his head in astonishment, "it was the strangest thing I have ever seen, but it is the truth!"

The man frowned, "I believe you saw what you saw, but what has come of my son?"

The dragon sighed, "if ever you figure it out, come explain it to me as well."

The man nodded, "that I will, but first I must see the Mayor about his idea of the proper way to treat the widow and the orphan."

He found his horse and returned to the village with all haste. The Mayor and most of the townsfolk were waiting for him. "Well?" asked the Mayor nervously as the man dismounted, "Have you an answer?"

Garren stared at the man stonily and said, "yes and no. Your dragon lives. My son does not or should not, but that story is not yet finished. But the creature claims the boy died of poison, given to him by his own folk. Can it be true?" The man's hand clutched his sword hilt as the Mayor raised his hands, began walking backwards, and mumbling incoherent excuses. The gathered villagers murmured darkly, who was this man to vanish for years on end and then return in judgment? "Speak!" said Garren, his sword halfway out of the scabbard. The next moment he gasped in agony as an arrow took him in the back.

The Mayor stared at his fallen persecutor with both relief and dread, suppose the King found out about this? The boy they could blame on the dragon but what about this man? A smile grew on his lips as he said, "bring the horse, wood, and oil!" The villagers stared at one another in shock and confusion, but hoping the Mayor had an idea, eagerly did his bidding, wishing for no more trouble in their once quiet village.

The Mayor's eldest son, Tyne, approached with bow in hand and asked of his father, "what are you doing?"

The Mayor smiled grimly, "it seems the dragon has claimed another victim. We'll burn the evidence and say he died valiantly trying to defend the village from the monster but alas, he met the same end as his son." The boy smiled viciously and led the effort to distort the evidence. They led the horse out to the sandpit just outside of town and there brought the wood, oil, and dying man. Tyne took out his dagger and killed the horse, seeming to delight in the slaughter of the innocuous animal, whereas the Mayor thought it a pity that such a fine beast must be sacrificed solely to keep up appearances. They piled the wood atop the dead horse and soaked everything with oil before setting it all ablaze. They were about to throw Garren on the pyre when he groaned, causing the Mayor to hesitate.

His son stared at him in disgust, "losing your nerve, father?"

The Mayor shook his head, "he is still alive!"

The boy sneered, "and the fire will rectify that minor problem!" He snarled and drew forth his dagger once more, "but this should allow you to sleep tonight." He cut the man's throat as zealously as he had dispatched the horse and then tossed the corpse atop the roaring blaze. The Mayor looked absolutely green and dashed off into the woods, apparently he was not cut out for murder, at least when it involved any interaction with the victim. The boy's scoffing laughter followed the man in his retreat. The rest of the villagers watched in stony silence as the flames consumed the day's misdeeds, only withdrawing to their interrupted chores as the flames died out, leaving only glowing coals and charred bone in their wake.

The villagers had all retreated, save Tyne, who watched the dying embers with glowing eyes; he felt a strange thrill coursing through his being and did not want the feeling to die quite yet. "A waste," scoffed a great raven, perched upon an old stump, "if you want to truly know what power is, you should have saved some of the wretch's blood." Tyne was frozen in wonder and terror but a tremulous smile touched his lips; he still clutched the bloody dagger in his hand. The vile bird eyed the weapon and squawked in approbation. The boy vanished from the village that night and none ever knew what came of him. His father never quite recovered from that terrible day and eventually succumbed to the despair, guilt, and grief it inspired.

The foul bird and his newest minion had vanished by the time the moon rose, leaving the remnants to smolder in solitude. Corbin interrupted the evening's peace by pouring phosphorescent water upon the ash heap, which sent up an even greater smoke, and was momentarily hidden by a flash of blinding light. A horse whinnied eagerly in the darkness, as Garren took Corbin's proffered hand and gained his feet, staring about him in wonder. He smiled at Corbin and said, "so this is the answer to the riddle." Corbin gave Garren a puzzled look, as he continued, "how does a dead man get up and walk?" Corbin nodded in understanding, as Garren said, "now I must go tell the dragon." Even more confused, Corbin could do nothing but mount his own horse and follow the eager man, who was already in his saddle and off at a gallop. In mere moments they were standing outside the dragon's front door listening to the reverberating echoes of his snores that shook the very foundations of the cave.

Corbin smiled grimly, "you have not had enough adventure today that you wish to waken a sleeping dragon?"

Garren laughed eagerly, "he told me to tell the full tale should I ever hear it. Afraid of dragons?"

Corbin smiled wryly and unconsciously clenched and opened his hands, "let us just say I have had a more personal encounter with one of the beasts than I ever wish to repeat."

Garren smiled heartily, "come friend, there is nothing the creatures can do now to harm either of us."

Corbin nodded amusedly, remembering his strange new occupation, and followed his companion into the cave. The dragon sighed heavily and lifted his head in despair, "am I never to be allowed to finish my nap?" He grimaced at the men before him and said, "you again? Have you found the boy or discovered the end of the tale?"

Garren said quietly, "I have yet to lay eyes on the lad, but I have discovered how it is the dead can walk."

Aeril rolled his great eyes, "let me guess, your beloved neighbors took your accusations amiss and now bear the blood of both father and son on their hands? And your precious Master has somehow called you back from the grave to right various wrongs?" He shook his head in exasperation, as the man's astonishment at his excellent guesswork confirmed his theory, said he, "I've seen it all before yet still do not understand it, or care to understand. Go find your whelp and leave me in peace." He rolled over and his snoring resumed immediately. The men exchanged an amused glance and suddenly vanished.

"There are five of them," said Kyan, fidgeting in his saddle as the three neophyte warriors sat their horses on a ridge overlooking a small village nestled in the pleasant vale below, upon which five fell looking horsemen were about to fall like an implacable storm.

"Have any of you ever held a sword before?" came the amused query. The three turned about in surprise to see who was spying on them as they spied on the vile warriors in the valley below.

"Of course," said Ithril with a smile, "though not in a few centuries."

Kyan grinned sheepishly, "yes, but never have I used it for more than practice."

Bayard laughed, "after tonight, I shall be able to say that I have."

The two newcomers exchanged an amused look, before Corbin said, "I suppose you must learn sometime, but at least you are no longer outnumbered."

Garren urged his horse down the slope, "we had best get on with this ere our foul friends disturb such a tranquil scene."

Before they followed after, the others took one last look at the quiet hamlet in the still twilight, with here and there a welcoming light flickering among the cottages, and they knew to their very souls why they rode forth against such horrid foes: that such scenes might live on undisturbed by things too dreadful even to imagine. The horses hastened down the steep embankment and quickly brought their masters face to face with the would-be villains.

The fell creatures stared in bewilderment at the five crazed fools that dared come against them, never having anticipated that anyone would stand their ground, let alone challenge such vile fiends. But their surprise was short lived as each urged his loathsome horse forward with sword bared, howling like a wind possessed. The combatants clashed like two opposing waves, each side losing two or three of their number in the first pass with the survivors turning back to strike again. After the second round, Corbin alone remained, the others had vanished once mortally struck. He smiled grimly, turned his horse, and likewise disappeared. The villagers slept on, ignorant that a living nightmare had just been averted not far from their blissful homes.

Full night had fallen and the moon was on the rise when Corbin appeared amidst the ancient ruins of the once grand castle. He glanced about with interest, having some idea of where he was and always having wanted to visit such a famed site of legend. His companions were already gathered in the crumbling courtyard, having been banished thus when mortally stricken. He smiled amusedly at them and they returned his grin wholeheartedly. Said he, "not bad for a first foray together, even our neophyte managed to unhorse his man or fiend, whatever such fell things are called."

Bayard wore a lopsided grin, "though he managed to return the favor."

Garren smiled proudly and clapped the youth on the back, "many do far worse in their first battle."

Bayard's eyes narrowed as he looked upon this overly familiar man, "have we met?"

Garren smiled mysteriously, "if you remember me at all, I would be even more impressed. I am your father, or at least I am assuming you are my son. You have your mother's eyes. I doubt I can claim the elf as my offspring and the other lad looks nothing like my late wife or I."

The boy quivered in a confused excitement of joy and fear, desperate for some explanation as to why the man had been gone all those years. The man saw the mixed hope and dread in the lad's eyes and it nearly brought him to tears, as he said, "aye lad, you are he. It nearly broke my heart to come home and discover my wife and son were dead, but you had not gone so far that I might not soon follow; lovely neighbors we had, I must say! I wished above all things to return to you both, but alas, I was taken captive and lived many a year far away from those I loved most." He brightened, "now we shall have a few adventures together and someday we'll see your mother again; what tales we shall have to tell her then!"

The boy leant into his father's embrace, sighing in relief and pleasure, "she always knew you had not willingly abandoned us and hoped daily for your return." He looked up with sparkling eyes, "she was right."

The others surreptitiously wiped away a few tears of their own and then each introduced themselves to the others and briefly told their own strange tales.

Garren turned questioning eyes upon Ithril, "you knew this legendary rock heap in its prime?"

The elf smiled reminiscently, "that I did, I was a lad when its foundations were laid and dwelt here, a warrior and sage, from the Kingdom's rising and lingered on alone after its fall into the disquiet night of forgotten years. It is heartening to know that peace, wisdom, and justice shall be found herein once more, as it was in days of old."

"Not as of old," came the Voice and Presence that drove them all joyously to their knees, "for such were the flawed virtues of men, in Me they are perfect and sure and so shall they be found by all those who would seek them. You are the first of My Messengers in this grim hour of the world, ride forth and shine My light!" Then He was gone.

They gained their feet and exchanged a wondering look, before everyone tried to talk at once. They laughed merrily at their own exuberance, like eager children trying to tell all they had seen, one atop the other. Finally Ithril spoke, joy ill-contained in his voice, "after all my years of watching and waiting, at last my dearest hopes are fulfilled! Nay, far more than I could ever dare dream! I had thought to watch and wait until time itself failed, but this old ruin will see brighter days than ever it did even at the zenith of its power and influence."

Bayard glanced around in perplexity at the silent stones, "what held you here when the Kingdom collapsed and all it stood for fell to dust?"

Ithril's smile deepened, "I lurked here like a ghost of the past, helping the occasional curiosity seeker as I could, but not knowing why I stayed, but only that I must. And my wait has not been vain."

Garren and Corbin had been speaking quietly together, as the oldest and most experienced of the party (Ithril was far older but was almost as naive as the other boys in the ways of the world, as he had not left the crumbling castle in centuries), the others naturally turned to them for guidance and direction. As they finished their consultation, all eyes turned eagerly upon them. Said Garren, "we know little enough of our new occupation, but I know full well we will know what we must when we must, for now however, we need to get this old ruin in order."

Kyan asked curiously, "whyever for? We certainly have no need for a roof or a fire upon the hearth."

Corbin's eyes danced, "we may not but others will."

Ithril capered in joy, "at last, the Keep shall be peopled again." The others caught his enthusiasm and soon were busy clearing debris, righting toppled stones, and doing what they could to restore the crumbling castle to usability.

As the sun climbed out of the sea, Garren glanced about approvingly, "this old place isn't as wretched as it looked at first glance. Most of the original stones are still in their places and the wood hasn't decayed beyond repair; a little work and it will be functional once more." He looked to the elf and asked, "you lived here for years uncounted, can this place support a modest community?"

Ithril said thoughtfully, "structurally it will easily do that, but I am afraid there is no convenient source of potable water." He brightened, "or is there?" He dashed over to the empty basin that took up one side of the courtyard and looked into it expectantly, said he, "the spring that fed this basin has been dry for centuries, but perhaps, like us, it may yet live again." At his words, a little tremble shook the courtyard and soon the merry babble of water echoed from the walls as it had in forgotten years. Ithril turned to Garren, "I see no further hindrance to folk setting up housekeeping here once more." They all laughed and returned to tidying up the Keep in anticipation of those who were yet to come. A crow watched intently atop a far tower, wondering what the fools were up to, before winging off into the more comfortable gloom of the surrounding forest, escaping the dreadful light of the burgeoning day. Ithril paused in his work and eyed the creature as it flew off, a malevolent shiver creeping up his spine. Returning to his task, he wondered what news it would have to tell its fell master.

Possessed of speed and strength unknown to mortal men and with no need to stop for rest, hunger, or darkness, the small company soon had the forgotten Keep restored to some semblance of order and usefulness, now all they need do was await these unknown and venturesome pioneers. Bayard glanced about curiously, wondering who or what would bother trying to make a living in such a forgotten corner of the world, certainly young adventure seekers would venture hither, but that was a poor foundation upon which to found a community, unreliable and flighty as such youths often were. But yet, he knew that they would come, whoever they were, and that he and his companions were to ready the way for them. The place looked remarkable after their relatively meager efforts and certainly far more livable since his own curious visit. The others finished their own tasks and finally shared a triumphant look, well satisfied with their success. The crunch of hooves on stone sounded loud in their ears and all save Ithril suddenly faded into the mist that had crept in with the twilight. A man, cloaked all in gray, rode into the courtyard on an equally drab mule and drawing rein, glanced about curiously. Seemingly satisfied in his perusal in the waning light, he dismounted and led the creature to the basin on the far side and let the mule drink.

As the beast quenched its thirst, the man lowered his hood and continued to study his surroundings. Ithril openly approached the man in his middle years, trying to hide the eagerness that coursed through his being, wondering what part this visitor would play in things yet to come. A small, curious smile graced the man's lips as he caught sight of the elf and stood patiently awaiting his approach. They bowed to one another as ancient protocol and ceremony demanded, and then Ithril said in his lilting voice, "welcome friend, what brings you to this place of legend and dust?"

The man shook his head, his smile deepening, "probably the same thing that has held you here all the years since the Kingdom fell to ruin."

Ithril was agape, "how did you know?"

The man laughed heartily, his eyes dancing, "your forest kin are unlikely to take up residence in this forsaken rock heap, why else would one of your kindred dwell here unless he was here when there was more than memory?"

Ithril bowed merrily and said, "you have me there sir, but pray tell why are you come? For I little knew why I stayed all those lonely years, yet I lingered on."

The man shook his head, a slight frown marring his once joyous countenance, "I am an exile and something of a scholar, hence I have a penchant for old ruins and have always longed to see this particular specimen. What possible use I can be here is beyond me, but here I am. What exactly do you do in this place?"

Ithril shrugged, a hidden mirth in his eyes, "I once aided those, like you, that came here for various reasons, as I could but that is no longer my part. In fact, I feel the time has come to turn over the warding of the Keep to another. The place is yours, use it as you see fit."

The man gaped, as if the elf had given him an elephant and he was rather unsure what to make of it, stuttered he, "and exactly what am I to do with this pile of rocks?"

Ithril shook his head but wore an irrepressible smile. Just then Corbin stepped out of the mist and recognition dawned in the eyes of the stranger. The former Sage quickly regained his composure and warmly greeted his uncanny friend. Once the pleasantries were over, Corbin asked, "I take it things do not go well with the Realm?"

The man shook his head sadly, "nay, and daily they grow worse. For a little while the King and Queen seemed willing to listen, but soon they forgot or ignored the warning that had been given and the entire kingdom now suffers for it. I was dismissed for my uncongenial words before things grew dire, but refugees fleeing the chaos tell me that things are grim indeed. The Queen has taken up with a powerful lord and together they are trying to wrest power from the King while a dozen lesser lords are stirring up trouble and talking succession. Civil war and tyranny loom large on the horizon, many are fleeing while they can. They will need somewhere to go." He brightened significantly and turned to the elf, "what is a Kingdom without citizens? Very well, friend elf, I accept your gracious offer, as do many of my displaced countrymen." He bowed gratefully and turned back to Corbin, a slight frown on his face, "and what exactly is your part in all this?"

The former Knight shook his head ruefully, "I have nothing to do with it. I have my orders and nothing more. Perhaps you will see me or those in similar service from time to time, but we are not here to meddle in the affairs of mortal men."

The sage snorted in disbelief, "and was that what you did to their Majesties? Not meddling? Hmmm...I do not believe it my friend."

Corbin grinned, "we may perhaps have a message to pass along, but we can do nothing to thwart a man's will."

"As we have painfully seen with the Queen," said the sage grimly. He brightened, "but at least you are on our side."

Corbin shook his head, "nay friend, we do not take sides, at least mortally speaking. We ride for the Master and Him alone, if you are His, then yes we are comrades and fight the same war, but you must never assume that your goals are necessarily His will. It is for mortal men to choose His side, not for Him to align Himself along our petty lines of dispute. He is not a banner we can claim to be on 'our' side, rather we are His and do His bidding, or we are not and have naught to do with Him."

The sage shook his head, "forgive me my friend, my words were not well chosen." He smiled ruefully, "was I not the one who was once responsible for teaching the Kingdom theology? Yet here I am being lectured upon my careless words by one of my own pupils!"

Corbin laughed, "I have had a great change in perspective since those simpler days and have shed the blinders all mortal men are wont to wear."

The sage nodded thoughtfully, "and that I envy you my friend." He smiled wistfully, "for there are things I would know that no mortal can comprehend."

Ithril interrupted, "careful what you wish for, for sometimes vagrant desires are all too soon fulfilled."

The sage smiled knowingly, "so too did you speak rashly, as I have just uttered?"

The elf reddened, "aye, in trying to reassure a dying friend that he would soon glimpse things that I would be long in seeing, and of which I was most desirous of knowing, little did I know that soon I would share in his fate."

The sage looked from Corbin to the elf and back in thoughtful silence. Ithril seemed fidgety, wondering if he had spoken too freely, again the man seemed able to read his mind, "you could not betray this secret to one who would use it for ill gain. I already guessed much from what I witnessed with your companion here. Fear not, I shall tell none of what I know and will even aid you in concealing it from those who shall soon follow after me." The elf seemed extremely relieved and the men exchanged an amused smile, though the boy was far older than either of them, he seemed far more naive in the ways of the world.

Corbin asked, "how is it you ever survived as an advisor here at the height of its glory when you can hardly keep your countenance in the presence of harmless friends and comrades?"

Ithril laughed, "I was never an advisor in matters pertaining to men and their politics, but rather in all matters of wisdom, justice, history, nature, and lore."

The sage nodded appreciatively, "a fellow scholar then, well met sir!" Ithril glowed at the man's words and hoped he might again serve in a similar capacity one day. Finally realizing full night had fallen, he gave a start and quickly helped the sage and his beast get settled for the night. Once the man was asleep, the two Messengers retreated into the shadows and conferred quietly with their companions. Corbin and Ithril would stay on advising and warding the nascent community while the other three felt called again to action in the outer world, where their undying foes were undoubtedly about to embark on more mischief. They mounted their horses, the mule looking on without comment, and vanished into the pearl and rose mists of dawn.

Duncan rose stiffly from his bed, not eager for another grueling day of teaching beardless boys how to avoid inadvertent injury to themselves with their own swords; he remembered this being far easier several decades ago, but then he had been a respected member of the King's guard, not a hobbling dotard barely escaping starvation by giving lessons to peasant children too poor for a proper teacher. He grumbled under his breath about the unfairness of life as he went through his morning routine and readied himself for the day. The scamps were lined up and eagerly waiting for him when he emerged from his hovel, each holding a rusted, chipped blade or a rough wooden facsimile, whatever they could find. For a moment their invincible enthusiasm buoyed his own spirits and he felt again the pride he once had when looking over his newly trained recruits, about to be given their first real assignment. He sighed heavily however, knowing these waifs would never amount to more than minions in a minor lord's militia or bullyboys at an inn, if they did not turn to banditry the moment the chance presented itself.

He eyed the new lad speculatively, he seemed no different from the rest of these penniless whelps, but he carried himself like a soldier who had seen a few campaigns and well knew his own worth and shortcomings and was content therein. The boy bobbed him an awkward bow, proffered his pennies, and smiled in impish anticipation. The old man muttered something uncouth, pocketed the coins, and chivied the urchin back into line with the rest. He glanced up and down the line again and frowned, two of the irascible creatures were missing. He turned and came face to face with a hideous fiend, while his features paled and his mind went numb in terror, his warrior trained body instinctively reached for his sword as he set himself for battle.

Tyne grimaced in amusement, the closest he could now come to a smile in this detestable form, and was about to say something appropriately mocking when the world erupted into chaos. The fiend found himself set upon from behind by a foe who knew the fell thing could be bested, Tyne vanished instantly with a sword in his back, releasing the terrified teacher and his students from their fear induced paralysis. The two missing students leapt into the fray, little caring that their vile coconspirator had suddenly vanished, intent as they were upon their own victory. They easily overcame the hunched old man in his momentary stupefaction and then set upon the remaining students with impunity, reducing them all to so much carrion in a matter of minutes. They stood over the dead and dying, smiling in grim satisfaction.

Croaked the moribund Duncan, "why? You were my best students, you knew these pathetic neophytes would stand no chance against you, yet neither were they a threat! It is a slaughter, pure and simple."

"Certainly," laughed one of the murderous boys, "it was death for the sheer joy of killing. While we need a little of your blood, we need not have slaughtered all of you like the sheep you are, but who could resist? And we did not even need that fiendish creature to aid us." They shared another triumphant laugh before vanishing into the forest in which the hovel crouched like an old toad.

Duncan slumped back with a groan, wondering if this was a fit way for an old hero to die. Idly, he looked upon his murdered students, wondering if anyone would miss them. He flinched in surprise to see the newcomer standing healthy and hale amongst the carnage. The boy met his gaze without the least timidity or survivor's guilt, rather he seemed almost eager. Snarled the failing swordmaster, "don't tell me you enjoy this death and mayhem as much as your fled cronies?"

Bayard steadily held his gaze, shook his head sadly, and replied, "nay sir, I just know there is more to life than death and far more beyond this meager mortal existence than you can yet imagine."

The old man smiled in spite of himself, "what would a beardless whelp know of death? Rejoice that you have escaped death's clutches this day and go your way in peace, leave the dead to themselves."

Bayard shook his head adamantly, a smile of secret joy on his lips, "I have already trodden that path, sir, and need fear it no longer. Come, discover what waits beyond that grim door."

There was such a fervent hope in the boy's words and eyes, that for a moment, the old man felt his heart stir in eagerness and an unexpected yearning awoke in his ancient soul, but with a final groan, the darkness came fully upon him and he knew nothing more. Bayard watched as the last of the day's victims faded from waking life and then set to work. He drew out his waterskin, a strange bit of equipment for a man who never needed a drink, and liberally sprinkled the fluid upon two of the slain students and their teacher. He looked sadly upon the two others who lay in their blood with blankly staring eyes, but knew there was nothing he could do for them; they had made their choices while life lasted and must now face the consequences thereafter. A blinding flash drew his gaze back to the rest of the dead, or those who should have been dead, and he smiled broadly as they gazed about in astonishment and shakily gained their feet.

The swordmaster actually smiled as he flexed his arms and legs, feeling none of the stiffness and pain that had afflicted him that very morning. He clapped the boy on the back and laughed, "you were right lad, fool that I was I could not see. It seems you do know a thing or two about death after all." He eyed his wide-eyed students with vast amusement, "and I think these two will at last know the proper use of a sword." He laughed heartily, nodded a farewell to Bayard, and gathered up the astonished boys, saying, "come lads, this adventure has only just begun." He drew them off into the misty wood, leaving Bayard alone in the hovel's wide dirt practice yard.

He sensed that his current quest was not yet completely accomplished. The sound of muffled weeping caught his ear and he followed the sound around to the back of the hovel, where another boy sat in the dirt and wept like one bereft of all hope. A sharp intake of breath betrayed his surprise at Bayard's presence and he huddled back against the rickety wall in embarrassment and terror. Stuttered he, "they're dead! All of them! Or murderers! And I ran and hid like a terrified rat...I've been training as long as the rest of them, I should have stood my ground, defended my friends!" He scowled, "how did you survive? Are you one of them?"

Bayard shrugged, "I need fear no mortal blade." He said sadly, "if you had stood your ground, you'd lay dead with your friends."

The boy frowned and shook his head, "but now I'm a coward and alone! What am I to do?"

Bayard smiled warmly, "I know a place where you could get a fresh start and perhaps finish your education. You may even see a couple of your old friends there on occasion."

The boy gaped, "what are you talking about? My friends are dead and will rot where they lie."

Bayard laughed outright, "will they?" He helped the incredulous boy to his feet and led him around to the front of the hovel where two of the lads were beginning to stiffen but the others were gone.

He gaped, "where did the swordmaster and my two dearest friends go?"

Bayard slapped him on the back, "their work is not yet done though perhaps mortal life is. I'll tell you how to get to a certain castle and perhaps you will understand more one day." The boy nodded dully, overcome with grief and hope. He listened carefully to the strange boy's instructions and then blinked when the lad suddenly vanished from his perception. He shook himself and hastily set off in the direction the odd boy had indicated, intent on unraveling this mystery and in hopes of seeing his friends once more. Bayard smiled as the youth ran off into the growing day, mounted his horse, and set off on his next adventure.

"Come, my friend," came the summons again, but the dragon merely turned over in his sleep, snarling and hissing at the intruder without bothering to waken and roast him alive as he undoubtedly deserved, but the fellow just would not take no for an answer, and again the voice sounded, this time more persistent, "get up you lazy wyrm!"

Aeril's eyes opened and immediately narrowed in ire, "who dares treat me thus?!" When he took in the exasperating visitor, he groaned in what might have been utmost despair, if it hadn't been pure hyperbole, "what now? Can't I get a little sleep, have I not done enough for you wretched creatures?"

"This is for your own sake," grinned Bayard, "come sir, you mustn't linger much longer lest your life be forfeit!"

A terrible laugh rumbled deep in the throat of the great serpent, "who could do me any harm? What creature of this mortal earth could injure me?"

"It isn't a creature of this earth, at least any longer, and it is more a what than a who," said Bayard gravely, "the Messengers are not the only men who live beyond death, there are abominations of a darker nature, undead and terrible!"

"Lovely," hissed the dragon, "and I suppose they'll kill me simply for my part in your own debacle?"

"Rather for your refusal to act as a faithful steed to one such," smiled Bayard grimly, "at least assuming you will say no when asked?"

"Of course I'd refuse!" hissed the dragon in great wrath, "Who would dare?!"

"I would!" snarled Tyne, entering the cave, a sword black as death naked in his hand. He smiled mockingly, or rather he tried, in that hideous visage it was a tortured expression indeed, "think you that this pathetic ghost can avail you?"

"I believe he owes me," snorted the dragon in amused contempt, "as I once did him a good turn!"

"Your pride would allow you to cower behind this wretched wraith rather than bearing the world's most powerful man to utmost victory?" taunted the fiend.

"I cower to nothing," smiled the dragon drolly, "yet neither am I a horse for hire! I am enough of a realist to know there are some Things that I cannot overcome and other things to which I am not well suited. You would not use a sword to snip a thread, neither am I equipped to deal with such a monster as you! This so-called wraith is the proper instrument for the job at hand, and there is no shame or cowardice in admitting that I am one thing and not another. A teapot and a warhorse each have their particular uses and their own peculiar glory, and it is no fault in either that they are not interchangeable!"

"You have been warned, monster," hissed the fell thing, "even if I do not make an end of you today, one day I or another will, for you have refused myself and therefore my dread master, and the only remedy for that is death!" Bayard leapt between the verbally embattled pair, taking the vile dagger, meant for the contemptuous dragon, in the heart and vanishing forthwith, leaving Aeril very much alone with the horror.

The dragon hissed like a terrified cat, cowering back into the very depths of his cave as Tyne approached ominously, one slow, dreadful step at a time, his malicious smile deepening with each step, but he fell to ash a moment later, a bright arrow in his back and a broadly grinning elf standing in the mouth of the cave. "You again?!" said the dragon gruffly in relief, "Your timing leaves much to be desired!"

Ithril shook his head and grinned archly at the acerbic reptile, "you are most welcome, sir," but he grew grave as he added, "but for once the fiendish thing spoke the truth: they will not relent until you recant or are destroyed."

"And?" snarled the cantankerous lizard.

"I know you think our theology ridiculous or even beneath contempt," cautioned the elf, "but may I so boldly suggest you reconsider? Even if your life was not in very danger, the world will not last forever and one day, none knows when, you will have to give an account of yourself to Him who wrought you!"

"Scolded like some recalcitrant child?!" grimaced the great beast.

"He is far more than a father to each of His creatures, He is our Creator, our Maker!" said Ithril, "It is more like a pot having an interview with the Potter or a character in a storybook chatting with the Author! Though He has deigned to call us 'children,' He in nowise must!"

"What a strange thought!" said the dragon in astonishment.

"And how much more scandalous when the Artist died to save His masterpiece!" grinned the elf triumphantly.

"Foolishness indeed!" agreed the beast, "But also a wonderful sort of wisdom, it's utter impropriety to the usual ways of the world make it irresistible, at least if I can get my stubborn pride to move aside long enough to admit it! You have won your point, elf, and that is a great compliment from such a source!"

"Pride indeed!" grinned the pointy-eared archer brightly, "But I would quite delight to call you brother!"

"Now there's a dreadful thought," said the dragon in surprise, grinning wryly he added, "but far better than ending as the eternal cellmate of one of those terrible things!"

"And you thought being the fearsome mount of such a monster was a grim thought!" laughed the elf, like the first rain of spring over a drought stricken land.

"Quite," smiled the dragon, intrigued indeed.

There was an old tower of that ancient castle that stood vacant, for it was structurally unsound and therefore unfit for human occupation, for it threatened to collapse if even a door was shut too forcefully and swayed ominously when any unwise personage dared the crumbling stairs. But this was no impediment to the Messengers, thus did they take it for their own use, appearing there when mortally struck by their foes or as a gathering place for meetings official and not.

Bayard suddenly appeared, sprawling in the middle of the floor, as if he had taken a dagger in the heart. He gained his feet, sharing a broad grin with the rest of his comrades, apparently the last to arrive for this official meeting.

Garren allowed him to vanish into the gathered crowd of Messengers before beginning, "apparently our favorite foes are in the market for a new mode of transportation. We know of a certain that they've importuned at least one dragon with such a request! Who knows if any of the creatures will agree to their delusions of grandeur or if they'll come up with another ingenious alternative, either way, be aware of the situation and ready to act as we must!" They shared an astonished look, before he dismissed them for a brief meeting of the informal sort.

"How goes life below stairs?" queried Garren of Corbin, as the little company broke up into pairs and trios to speak at leisure.

"They seem to be settling in quite well," grinned the latter in pleased delight, "all save this haunted tower is now full of life and light and song, as it was in former days."

Ithril raised a curious brow, "and how would you know that?"

"I am only guessing of course, for who among us can truly know what life was like back then?" teased Corbin, "Though perhaps the ancients went about grim and solemn all their days, I could be quite mistaken."

The elf sighed in a longsuffering sort of way, but his amused smile ruined the effect, "I believe you are quite correct, at least your former assumption; I could not have dwelt long amongst such morbid folk, were it the latter!"

"But what of our haunted tower?" asked the unofficial Captain of the little band, "Have they any notion of tearing it down or shoring it up?"

"For now they have enough other matters to tend to," mused Corbin, "and as they do not fear it will fall on their heads anytime soon, it is left for our particular use."

"Haunted?" said Ithril in confusion.

"Have you not heard the rumors?" smiled Corbin, "People have heard voices, seen light and movement, though none dares ascend past the first landing of those dreadful stairs. It must certainly be a trysting place for the shades of the former residents."

"I suppose from a mortal perspective," mused the elf, "that is certainly true," but he smiled wryly and added, "though some of us walk openly among them!"

"But only the Sage knows we are more than an upstart knight and a relic of former days," grinned said upstart.

"I'm not sure which I would prefer being, a relic or a shade?" grinned the elf, "The former would most certainly require perpetual dusting and the latter would have very little substance whatsoever!"

"We are all things to all men," quipped Garren gravely, adding with an arch smile, "or dragons or elves, whatever the case may be." Suddenly they all tensed and grew silent, and the next moment, the musty, crumbling tower was left to its own silent musings, as had been its wont through many a long, lonely year.

Garren and Bayard sat their horses atop an impossible mountain peak, whereon a goat could hardly find adequate footing, perhaps an eagle, but certainly not a large quadruped! Yet they sat their saddles as unconcernedly as if they stood on a wide plain, adapting quickly to the innumerable strangenesses peculiar to their new occupation. Below, each could see a great cave gaping like a hungry mouth in the face of a nearby crag, perhaps frozen forever in a foolish attempt to consume the whole world. But such metaphorical musings were quickly forgotten, as they saw a fell villain suddenly materialize on the doorstep of said cave. Without a second thought, they urged their horses off their tenuous perch and into thin air, but miraculously, each was borne up on a pair of fantastic wings.

"Now this is riding!" laughed the boy eagerly.

Garren smiled brightly, his eyes alight with delight, "and I thought him a near perfect horse before! This is too much!"

"Is there anything too good or beautiful or wonderful for Me and mine?" quipped the Magpie, for a moment gliding alongside them, but He was gone before either could respond, save to share a wondering and happy smile, never tiring of that wonderful Presence. But they soon landed on the portico and their focus was again upon whatever strange business brought them to this far off place.

They drew their swords as they slid from their saddles, entering the cave as swiftly and silently as a penetrating light, for were not their beings clad in just that?

"Up wyrm!" came the fiend's demanding voice, "I am your rightful master and you will learn to obey!"

The uneasy dragon eyed the impertinent intruder warily, not liking the feel of the thing, for it was no impudent man, but a monster totally beyond its experience, but somehow it knew it was utterly deadly to even the greatest dragon. The creature quivered in dread, "what would you have of me?"

"I mean to destroy the world," said the villain conversationally, "and I would have your help."

"Partners?" rumbled the beast in interest.

"Nay," hissed the fell thing, "I am the master, you the slave!"

"Then be gone," growled the wyrm in warning, "I am no one's minion or lackey!"

"You will die and serve me still," scowled the importuned villain.

"Let this farce be ended!" trumpeted the dragon, flame suddenly gushing from his mouth, but it could not touch the horror, but such was not the case with Bayard's sword. He neatly pierced the sneering terror through the back and it fell to dust.

"You're becoming quite a hand with a sword, lad," said his father proudly.

"Indeed," grinned the boy, "it is rather astonishing the array of things I know or can do, have I the need!"

"It certainly beats a decade of practice or study every time we must be proficient in something," mused Garren in wonder, but he turned his attention then to the mystified dragon, who could not comprehend how a pair of mere mortals could stand chatting blithely in the narrow tunnel after the recent inferno or how they could so easily best a villain which his fire could not touch. Said Garren with a polite bow, "forgive our intrusion, but we thought you might need a hand dealing with that fell creature."

"Is it gone?" said the wyrm hopefully.

"Only temporarily," said Garren with a grim shake of his head, "the creatures are beyond death so cannot die, nor can they be vanquished by any means possessed by flesh-wrought folk."

"What of you?" hissed the dragon.

"We too are beyond death," said Bayard, "save we are in the Master's service and are His answer to such vile things!"

"So this rescue was sent by Him?" mused the dragon, "Perhaps I must more closely consider those things I once considered beneath my notice." His eyes narrowed speculatively as he said, "you said it would return?"

"The things are obsessed with their current scheme," said Garren quietly, "you will either bow to their whims or cease to be, there can be no other answer, at least in their minds. We can temporarily vanquish the things, but there will come a day when no rescue is sent or we are vanquished instead of the villain, for we cannot forever ward everyone to whom they promise certain death."

"Nor would any dragon long countenance such a guard!" agreed he, "I must think upon these Greater Things before I find myself spoken of in the past tense!" He solemnly nodded his head in dismissal of his uncanny companions and slithered deeper into the cave's depths. Father and son exchanged a wide smile and vanished, but when they reappeared somewhere else entirely, they were in nowise smiling.

"No!" said the boy, dashing deeper into the depths of another cave, one only recently vacated. Garren followed after, a grim look upon his face.

"You are too late!" triumphed Tyne, pulling his sword from Aeril's writhing form, "It refused my most gracious offer a second time and this is the price of its pride, at least the village should be happy!" He gave them a mocking bow and vanished in a sudden flash of night, but the boy only had eyes for the agonized dragon, whose scales had taken on a sickly green color, instead of their usual verdant hue, where they were not ashen grey, immediately surrounding the wound and in an ever expanding band outwards.

"Now you know how I felt," said the wyrm in miserable mirth, "when I could do nothing for your own wretched lot!" His smile grew ironic indeed, "even now, will you try carrying me to the fairywood to see if anyone there knows a cure?"

"Little good it did me," laughed the boy, despite his horror, "but come, my friend, are you willing to face the things beyond death's grim door?"

"Certainly," winced the moribund beast, "that wretched elf has triumphed at the last!" He eyed the boy sternly, "but I expect that you shall keep my secret?"

"The dead are rarely gossips," smiled Garren sadly.

The dragon eyed them wryly, despite the pain in his gaze, "that's what I used to think, before becoming embroiled with you lot!" He heaved one last sigh, as the ashen hued scales crept over his great chest, stilling his heart and freezing his lungs, "farewell..."

"Cut off his head!" ordered Garren.

Bayard was about to protest that it was a desecration of the dead, but as the scales began turning black and an evil red glow flared in the eyes and nostrils, he did not hesitate and lopped off the beast's head; the infernal fire died aborning and the scales faded to the greyish green of death. "What have you done!" snarled Tyne, returning in a dreadful flash of blackness to retrieve his new riding beast, taking hold of the boy's shoulder, he said harshly, "Since you have deprived me of my beast, I shall take you instead!"

"Careful, fiend," cautioned Garren.

Tyne smiled mockingly, "afraid I'll hurt your poor little boy?"

Garren smiled grimly, "nay villain, ware what may happen to one who meddles in powers beyond his ken!"

"My power is far greater than your meager power!" scorned Tyne, "You could not even save that wretched beast!"

"It is not our power of which I speak," said Garren quietly, as death itself is quiet, "but that of Whom we serve; the very Power that wrought the worlds!"

"Yet he could not keep them from falling into corruption!" triumphed the fiend, vanishing with his prisoner in another stygian flash.

Garren shook his head grimly, but he could not help but smile in anticipation, for the fiend was indeed playing with fire! He turned to the dead dragon and eyed the carcass keenly, wondering what the creature was even now experiencing on that wondrous road to eternity. But as a little bird fluttered into the sad scene, he smiled wonderingly and mused that perhaps he had not embarked upon that journey just yet, but rather, like the Messengers, had something left to do in the mortal sphere. But first He had a few surprising things to impart Himself.

"They have stolen your child," said He conversationally, perched atop the dead beast. Garren nodded in solemn affirmation of that fact but remained silent. "Good!" continued He, "These abominable creatures are overbold and daring things no created being should aspire to, I will use the boy to teach them all a lesson, but that you are so calm and patient in such a usually trying circumstance, also speaks well of your own character." Garren was suddenly very uneasy, wondering what He was getting at, but the little bird laughed at his discomfiture, saying, "yes, child, I need someone to lead this ragtag band and I have chosen you! Carry on, Captain!"

But there was no protest, there could be none, either He was all wise, knowing, and powerful, or he was not, if the former, which was certainly the case, He could not choose wrongly, thus was the Captain resigned to his fate, such as it was. The Magpie turned His gaze upon the dead dragon, shaking His head in disgust, "an utter waste! Let us see if we can do aught to rectify the situation; bring your waterskin." Garren dashed eagerly to his waiting horse and snatched it from the saddle, returning at the run. The result was not what he had anticipated, for the dead dragon simply vanished, leaving the man suddenly alone in that great cavern, he smiled wryly and returned to his horse, vanishing about his next adventure, hoping he would one day hear something about the last one!

Bayard found himself in a place utterly dark, not even his strange vision could penetrate the secrets hidden in those palpable shadows; he was not surprised to feel them move, swaying about him like so many trees, tempest tossed in an evil wind. His ears were filled with their hideous keening, words in a tongue too foul for his mind to comprehend, he felt their bitter claws ripping into his being, tearing, shredding, as if determined to reduce him to his constituent parts. Suddenly something stirred unbidden in the very depths of his being, but it was not that wondrous light that composed his person at last rousing itself in protest, rather it seemed to be a blackness deeper than the infernal night about him. A pathetic, moaning wail was his only response before the blackness consumed him utterly.

Something kicked him, and then kicked him again, "get up oaf," grated Tyne's harsh voice, adding a third kick to complete the set.

Bayard shakily gained his feet, wondering what had happened, falling to his knees in horror when he saw skeletal hands in place of his own, studying what he could see of the rest of himself, he knew he looked exactly like Tyne and his fellow fiends, but that could not be?! As he stared vacantly off into space, his mind busy with the conundrum, a magpie flitted past and winked in His passing, allowing the boy to relax utterly into whatever strange charade he had been called to play.

"Get used to it," grated the other fiend, "now you're as doomed as the rest of us, a hopeless slave to evil! I told you you'd pay for your meddling and that our power was greater than yours! Now get into that cave and tame the wretched beast within!" He smiled maliciously, "and perhaps one of your old comrades will feel inclined to interfere! The irony will be delicious! Now go!"

Bayard sighed heavily, but stood and did as he was bidden, wondering exactly what it was he would find within and what he was supposed to do about it. Tyne vanished, his terrible laughter echoing in the vast, stony canyons abounding in that place. He heard the crunch of stone being ground to dust as something large shifted in the depths of the cavern, something black and terrible, with flaming eyes and nostrils, what Aeril's mortal remains might have become had he not decapitated the poor creature.

"I've been ordered to tame you," said he rather abashedly to the horrifying creature, wondering what his own reaction must look like in such a ghastly face, embarrassment was hardly becoming in such a dreadful visage, not that any expression except pure and utter hatred and fury ever looked at home in that awful countenance.

"Awkwardness in such a fiend?" hissed the terrible wyrm.

Bayard could not help but grin at such a calm and sensible answer, hardly befitting such a creature, in which impatience and fury must certainly be the expected reaction, "let's just say this is not what I expected of my current adventure!"

"You and me both!" laughed the horrible reptile, "I believe I refused just such a service and had already suffered the consequences attendant thereunto!"

"Aeril?!" said Bayard in utmost joy, "It seems we are in like circumstances my friend!"

"This is certainly an ironic beginning," snorted the dragon in vast amusement, "especially as it was my official end!"

"I do not understand," mused the boy, at the dragon's mystified look, he amended, "not your pun, rather what these fell creatures think to gain by enslaving a dragon thus? How much more dangerous is a dragon with a man upon his back than a dragon is wont to be alone?"

"It's all for show," sighed Aeril in exasperation, "you'd be no more a menace to our victims than a fly aback a horse! I fear it is all to salve their egos, though perhaps in the case of our vile friends, it is to ensure the poor creature's cooperation in whatever their master's fell plans?"

"Will any dragon actually go along with such a scheme?" asked Bayard.

"Some might cooperate if they might be equal partners in destruction, but none will become slaves to another's will," said the dragon with a grim shake of his head.

"Speaking of which," grinned the boy, a hideous expression indeed, "would you oblige me?"

"Since you ask so nicely," agreed the monster, "how could I say no?" Bayard climbed aback the horrid creature as it slithered from the depths of the cave in which it laired.

"Excellent, most excellent!" triumphed Tyne, standing at the entrance of the cave, "None of your self-righteous little friends made to interfere?"

Said Bayard stonily, "no, now let this farce be ended!"

"You're a slave, wretch, get used to it; there will be no end!" hissed the fiend in greatest glee, "Now take your little pet and go ravage our home village! After that we'll end the menace of your old comrades!"

"He certainly has delusions of fiendish grandeur," commented Aeril in vast amusement, as they vanished in a stygian flash, continuing as they reappeared over the familiar vale of Bayard's birth, though he had never seen it from the air, "though I must say I rather relish this little assignment," smiled he wryly, "not that we can do anything to actually hurt mortal folk, but the idea certainly is rife with possibilities for a vengeful mind. He swooped low over a wide field, startling a small herd of cows, which bellowed in terror and took to their heels as the dragon passed them by.

"You shall go no further!" said a familiar voice

"And who is going to stop me?" hissed the dragon in fell delight.

"The very Captain of the Master's Messengers," said Garren boldly, his winged horse keeping him eye to eye with the hideous brute.

"You don't say?!" said Aeril in pleased surprise, nearly unhorsing their companion in shock at the monster's manners. The dragon caught movement out of one corner of his eye, a shadowy fiend no doubt sent to spy on the newest minions of darkness.

"You'd best have his head off, sir," grinned Bayard like morning itself, perhaps the morning after the apocalypse, but it was the best he could do with such a face!

"What are you two up to?" asked the Captain skeptically, drawing his sword.

"After this we are going to forcibly corrupt the rest of you," laughed the boy for all he was worth, though he too had his sword in hand, just to make it look authentic, though he was too far from his father to be a real threat.

"Sorry my friend," said Garren, raising his sword.

"It's our duty," said the dragon, roaring in fury before his bellow was prematurely silenced by Garren's handiwork. As the monster fell, Bayard leapt from the plummeting beast atop the overzealous Messenger, the horse indifferently maintaining his position as the two men tussled for control. Bayard took a dagger in the heart and fell to ash, Garren doing his best to hide a vast smile, before vanishing himself, for they had an official meeting!

"Drat," snarled Tyne, when Bayard reappeared in a writhing heap at the villain's feet, "the monsters aren't as resilient as we are! But if we can end those wraiths' meddling and menace once and for all, then it wouldn't be an issue, for nothing could then destroy the beasts. We had best get this over with before we try enslaving any more dragons, else it will be rather moot. Let's go!" He touched the boy on the shoulder and they reappeared in the basement of that once forsaken castle, with only the skeletal kings to greet them. Tyne smiled villainously and began summoning all his fiendish allies with a darkly glowing hand.

The place was so full of fiends that the very shadows seemed alive with them, which was exactly what had happened when they had 'corrupted' Bayard himself. He smiled in spite of himself and asked, "your orders, sir?"

"Let's go upstairs and introduce ourselves!" ordered Tyne eagerly, as the whole host of dark phantasms hastened up to the very topmost tower like an evil fog on the run. They intruded upon what seemed the whole host of the Messengers deep in some sort of council, probably about their dragon problem, but the fiends rather rudely interrupted, surrounding the little band.

"Do any of you want to come over to our side willingly?" hissed Tyne in triumph, grabbing Bayard by the throat, he threw the ruined Messenger to the ground and said, "Or will you suffer his fate? It will be far more pleasant if you come of your own accord?"

They all stared at him stonily, his cruel smile deepened and he ordered the charge, but instead of tearing the despicable creatures to shreds, as they had the corrupted boy, they found themselves suddenly blinded by an awful light, like the rising dawn on some distant world too near its sun, for they had only managed to tear away the mortal disguises veiling that dreadful radiance.

"No?!" raged Tyne, "What is this? You are helpless before us in such numbers! Have we not already corrupted one such?"

"No," smiled Bayard as brightly as his radiant form, letting the hideous visage melt away, "you have no such power, it was a mere ruse to let you indulge your hideous fancies but nothing more!"

"And the dragon?!" spat Tyne.

"What about him?" said a little winged reptile, no bigger than a crow but glowing like a spark fresh from the heart of a forge, "While my little performance might have been pure theatrics, the fate that will befall any of my kin you enslave or ensorcel will not be."

"Very funny!" snarled the fiend, and in his own hideous tongue, he ordered his company away from that terrible light.

"You're late again, lad," said Garren brightly, as the entire company veiled themselves again in mundanity.

"His previous mission was likely punishment enough, sir," said Aeril boldly.

"I believe it was at that," grinned the Captain.

"It won't happen again, sir," said Bayard with a very proper salute.

Garren frowned, "you joining the enemy or being late for an official meeting?"

"Both, I hope!" grinned the boy.

"I quite agree," said the Captain with a laugh, "but then the whole point of this little gathering was for the benefit of your foul friends; we have no official business. Now you may all mingle freely." They all joyfully assented to this last order and did just that.

Bayard found himself in a little knot of Messengers with Aeril, Ithril, and the Captain. Said Ithril brightly to the winged reptile, "now this is a sight I never thought to behold!"

Aeril replied primly, "a veritable dragon amongst your ranks or me finally agreeing to your nonsense?"

"I quite agree with both postulations," agreed the elf with a laugh, "but I was thinking of a dragon withindoors!"

"You do know size is of no matter to me anymore, do you not?" said the house-lizard in reply.

"What is physical guise to any of us?" mused the Captain with a pensive crease in his brow, "We can easily change our physical features, jump from place to place with a thought, even become invisible and ghost through walls, but why not change our physical forms as well?"

"What an intriguing thought!" replied Bayard, grimacing he added, "But let our first attempts therewith involve something less vile than my recent experiment!" They all laughed at this, but once their mirth was contained, they circulated amongst their companions until everyone could talk of nothing else.

Said the Captain for all to hear, "now that we have a new pet project, why don't you all go find some isolated place to practice?" They exchanged an eager look and vanished thence to try just that, leaving Garren utterly alone to quip, "kids!"

"I'm a mammal?!" snorted Aeril in surprise, as he tried on a human guise.

"No," laughed Ithril, "you are merely portraying one; I do believe our current physiology is beyond the scope of terrestrial biology!"

"Ever the scholar," sighed that mammalian reptile in feigned exasperation, nodding in amused approval as said scholar donned the guise of a small dragon.

Bayard watched them banter back and forth and practice the new skill, but had not yet tried it himself nor did he join in their conversation, rather he felt drawn to the edge of the little clearing and withdrew silently thence, the 'embantered' pair little noticing, so caught up in their own antics were they. As he drew away from his friends, the sound came again: the sobbing of a soul most wretched and a heart nigh unto breaking. He crept towards the sound, silent as a little breeze, but a gasp of surprise escaped him, betraying him to the weeper, who looked up in surprise, anger sparkling in his eyes to be found in such a vulnerable position, but when recognition dawned, only shock remained.

Bayard smiled wryly and left his hiding place, knowing himself known, "sorry Tobin, I did not mean to surprise you at such a moment, but I heard something out of place and came to investigate."

The boy dashed the clinging tears from his cheeks and eyes, but continued to stare at the apparition, which looked no different than it ever had, indeed, the boy seemed far more himself than he had ever been in waking life. Said he at last, unable to help the ironic smile that accompanied his statement, "you're dead Bayard."

"I'm beyond death," smiled the specter like a thousand summer mornings, "but come, what so wrings your heart that you must secret yourself out here, so far from anywhere?"

"They drove me out," sighed the boy heavily, "they say some great evil clings to or emanates from my person, that I am a bad omen or a villain myself."

Bayard frowned slightly in perplexity, "did something happen to you? Has anything changed of late?"

"Tyne returned briefly," shuddered the boy, at the mere mention of his brother, "he asked me to go adventuring with him, but I told him I wanted nothing to do with a murderer." He looked wretchedly at Bayard and said, "your father finally returned after all those years and Tyne killed him."

"I know," said Bayard wistfully, remembering the greatest longing of his young, mortal heart, now fulfilled in a way almost too wonderful to comprehend, "but he's also entangled himself with an evil more deep than any of us can imagine, my father's murder is but the least of his crimes. What did he do when you refused him?"

"He laughed derisively at me and said I'd soon rue my idiocy," said the boy heavily, "and that he'd have his way no matter what."

"It was in nowise foolish to refuse him," said Bayard quietly, "though it is almost certainly a death sentence."

"What am I to do?" asked Tobin plaintively, he eyed Bayard hopefully, "You seem to be getting along quite well for one of the dead!"

"I am at that," smiled the boy like joy itself, "would you like to know why?" At his companion's eager nod, he told him many a tale of the Master and His sacrifice for wandering humanity.

"But those old tales won't save my life?" queried Tobin afterwards.

"They'll save your soul from utter night," smiled Bayard, "and assure you true life ever afterwards, which is a far better thing than these few meager years of earthly existence men are wont to call by that name!" He added quietly, "they utterly saved me, though not from mortal death, but rather from Death itself, an eternity of utmost night, such has your brother embraced."

"Why has he not just killed me then?" asked the perplexed Tobin.

"It's never so simple a matter as that," said Bayard, "he's likely come up with some plan or other in which to embroil you, rather than give you an easy death."

"Hence the clinging aura of evil," said Tobin heavily, "undoubtedly his witchery is already at work." He turned terrified eyes upon his companion, "what am I to do?"

"I know a place where you can at least find refuge and shelter," began Bayard, but he could not finish, for just then the Captain himself swooped in on his winged horse, saying as he dismounted, "sorry lad, it cannot be; it is just too dangerous to other folk."

Tobin sat suddenly on his abandoned stone, wondering if he was going mad or was dead already. Garren smiled easily at him and said, "it isn't every day you get to chat with dead men or see a winged horse! You aren't mad, we've just turned your world on its head because your perspective was too small, just consider it an expansion of your horizons!"

Tobin's eyes narrowed, as he asked, "what do you mean by too dangerous to other folk?"

"Your brother has placed a curse upon you lad," said Garren quietly, "very soon you'll either go mad or die, while your physical body will become some sort of draconian monster. It would be quite unwise to loose such a creature in a populated area."

"So you're just going to leave me here to die alone?" sighed Tobin despairingly.

"Certainly not," smiled Garren gently, "I only said you couldn't face such an end where others might be endangered, while the lad intended the best, he didn't know the full extent of the situation, and when he met his own fate there, it was quite abandoned, but that is no longer the case."

"Gracious!" said Bayard in astonishment, then smiling ruefully he added, "But we are not out of options my friend, if you care to accompany me?"

Tobin smiled in grateful relief, "to be called friend at such a time is truly music to my ears! I was hardly friendly to you when we were boys together, and I was quite indifferent to your own fate, and now I am likewise doomed, and apparently an unquickened monster at that, yet you would still call me friend?"

"Of a certainty!" said Bayard without qualm or hesitation, adding with a cheeky grin, "And if you take those tales I told you seriously, we can be veritable brothers!"

"Which is more than I can say for Tyne," said Tobin with a shudder of dread, "very well, let's find somewhere quiet and away from innocent bystanders, for whatever is to come."

"I'll leave you lads to it," said Garren with an approving nod, as he mounted his horse and vanished suddenly from their perception.

"Who are you people?" queried the astonished Tobin of Bayard, as he held out his hand to the flummoxed youth, and in taking it, the pair vanished suddenly, appearing again in Aeril's old cave.

"Just who we were always meant to be," grinned Bayard hugely at his companion's continued wonder at all the oddities assaulting him on this most peculiar of days, "men beyond time and death, but men still."

Tobin's eyes narrowed as he took in the great cavern, "is this where I think it is?"

"The cave of the infamous dragon?" grinned Bayard, "Quite."

"Whatever came of the monster?" asked Tobin anxiously, glancing about as if he might still be lingering in the shadows.

"He's not a monster," said Bayard in warm remembrance, "he's a person, just like you and I, just in a shape men find discomfiting. He actually had more pity for me in my plight than did our own folk!"

"I thought he devoured you?" said Tobin with a frown.

Bayard shook his head grimly, "that's what our folk wanted him to do, but he is not that silly or cruel! Whatever they put in the concoction poisoned me." His face brightened and a look of pure wonder sparkled in his eyes, "but there are greater things beyond death than any of us can even dare dream!"

"I want that," sighed Tobin wistfully, "never in my whole life have I ever felt such passion or joy, for even a moment, but you tell me it can be mine, even upon the brink of death?"

"If you take those scandalous old tales seriously, certainly," grinned the boy eagerly, "for though I knew them all my life, it was not until the very last that I actually took them to heart!"

Tobin shook his head in wonder, "today has been one eldritch revelation after another, those old stories are almost sane by comparison. Madness as the world would see it, certainly, but I believe this very madness from beyond the world is actually the sanity our own world forsook when man chose evil and himself over what he was truly meant to be." He added with a wistful sigh, "but what of my own fate?"

"I'll watch with you," said Bayard quietly.

"But madness and death?" protested Tobin, "A monster?"

"Even so," said Bayard, "you shouldn't have to die alone." He smiled wryly and added, "did I not have such companions in my own turn, even the very dragon that was supposed to have consumed me instead?"

"Truly," grinned Tobin, a wan smile of amusement threatening to invade his countenance despite his grim future.

"I'll tell you that tale too, if you would like?" asked Bayard hopefully.

"What else have we to do?" queried Tobin, not uneager, pulling up a rock and making himself as comfortable as he might.

Bayard glanced about and laughed, "it is certainly lacking in human amenities, but then it was never meant to long house men!" They sat and spoke at length, for Tobin had much he would ask, about Bayard's adventures and about those strange tales and there was much to share of their own brief lives in the same village.

But at last their conversation was interrupted by a most unpleasant intruder, as Tyne burst in upon them and demanded, "get away from my monster, wraith!"

Bayard remained seated and merely arched one eyebrow at their insolent guest, "he is in nowise yours, fiend. Be gone!"

"You cannot keep me from my prey," hissed Tyne angrily, his hand on his sword.

"No, I cannot," agreed Bayard, "but for the moment he does not choose to accompany you, and until he decides otherwise or the ability to so choose is taken from him, I will see that you do not impinge upon that choice."

"Very soon you'll have more than you can manage, specter," laughed Tyne darkly, eyeing his brother, he smiled cruelly, "then you shan't have a choice!" He vanished in a flash of darkness, something that could no longer surprise Tobin.

"You aren't afraid of him?!" said Tobin in astonishment to Bayard.

Bayard frowned slightly, "why should I be?"

"He is altogether evil!" said Tobin, "He has powers dark and terrible!"

"His master is a created being, a thing of immense evil and power certainly, but still a creature far less terrible than the One who made it," said Bayard in quiet awe, "and it is Him whom I serve. My service is the Master's answer to such horrid things as your brother has become; we are perennial foes certainly, but he can in nowise hurt me in any way that is permanent or beyond my Master's power to remedy."

"But he has killed me," said Tobin gravely.

"And that is the worst he can do," replied Bayard, "that is the extent of his power over anyone! How much should he then trouble a man beyond death? Rather fear Him who wrought your very soul, Who can do with you as He pleases."

"You said He was terrible?!" gasped the horrified boy.

"In the very best sense of the word," said Bayard solemnly, "like great mountains or immense storms or the disquiet sea: something so great and vast and awesome our minds can little comprehend it. Not terrible as evil is terrible, but rather something so big the very thought of it makes us speechless in awe and dread. For He is not capricious or cruel as some men might think when hearing such concepts, though He is Just, Righteous, and Good, but so too is He Merciful and Gracious to those that would seek Him. You will fall into His hands one way or the other, far better is it to come willingly, a humble and obedient servant, a repentant child, rather than a condemned man before his judge."

"But how can He, if He is what you say, care anything for such an insignificant thing as a man?" said Tobin in wonder, "That He would take on mortality and death to save us from ourselves?!"

"That's why it's a scandal," smiled Bayard, "madness and foolishness as the world would call it and rightfully so, at least by their standards!"

Tobin sighed wistfully, "and I believe it is high time I embraced your madness, my friend." He shivered and added in an undertone, "for very soon, I fear, true madness shall be upon me."

"Perhaps not?" said a hopeful voice from the front of the cave, where Corbin and an aging man, whom Bayard recognized as the now resident sage of that no longer forsaken ruin, were just dismounting from the former's great horse of war.

"There is a cure?" asked Tobin, hopefully rising to his feet.

"I do not know of a certain," continued the sage, nodding briefly in greeting to the uncanny boy beside his interlocutor, "but perhaps I might be able to help you." His eyes narrowed and he glanced at Corbin, "any chance you could find Ithril? Perhaps he knows something from forgotten years that might avail us?"

"Allow me," grinned Bayard, summoning the elf with a glowing hand, though it was a small dragon that suddenly sat in their midst.

"Oh dear!" said the abashed lizard, melting again into his more usual visage and exchanging greetings and courtesies all around, Tobin and the Sage perplexed but not unamused at his antics. When the subject was broached and all the tale told, Ithril said with a pensive frown, "I'm afraid I have never heard of anything of the sort, but then evil hexes weren't an area of study upon which I spent any time."

"The Captain said he faced madness or death," mused Bayard, "what think you of that?"

"If our foes can't ensorcel a dragon, living or dead," said Corbin, "why not make one? Whatever the process, I am sure the boy's mind and soul would object, leading to just such an end."

"Death no longer holds any terror for me," said Tobin grimly, "but I would fain not go mad!"

"And what of the monster that is soon to be loosed?" queried the sage.

"A mindless beast, I would think," said Ithril, "that the villain may claim it rightfully as his own, as any man might take a deer or befriend a stray dog."

"We would be powerless against such a creature?" asked Bayard.

"If it is a mortal beast, yes," said Ithril, "but then too, once it is slain it is slain, it would not live again."

"Now there is a puzzle!" said Corbin, "We would be powerless to unhorse our foes in such an instance, but if the beasts could be slain somehow, they'd need to replace them, but if they can make them into some sort of undead fiend, like unto themselves, we could fight the brutes but they would not need to replace them time and again."

Tobin and the Sage exchanged a wondering look at such a conversation, eliciting a laugh from Bayard, "I do apologize, my friends, for leaving you out of this rather peculiar conversation. It is merely a topic of professional interest, perhaps timely, but rather rude in such company."

"No," said Tobin, "I find it intriguing!"

"As do I," said the sage, sharing a knowing smile with Corbin, "if incomprehensible, but I fear our time is short if we are to do anything for our imperiled friend, so must we turn our thoughts and efforts thence."

"What is to be done?" said the boy.

"We could try..." began the sage hopefully, but he fell with a black arrow in his back, as every Messenger in the cave reached for his sword and turned to gaze stonily upon the triumphant Tyne, standing at its mouth with a great bow wrought of black metal in his hands, but Tobin had eyes only for the corpse at his feet, knowing such would soon be his own fate.

Gloated the fiend, "my master has been after that fool's head for some time, I thank you gentlemen for giving me the opportunity! Now enough foolishness, there is no cure for the curse I have laid upon the boy! He is mine, even if he will not yet admit it." He vanished with a horrid laugh, leaving them again to themselves.

"You aren't horrified?" asked Tobin incredulously of his seemingly heartless companions.

"What is death to us?" asked Corbin in surprise at the boy's question, already forgetting what such a spectacle must seem to a mortal man unfamiliar with the concept, kneeling to pull the arrow from his mentor's back as Ithril handed him a water bottle.

Bayard laid a comforting hand on Tobin's shoulder and said, "he only means that from our perspective, death is no more dreadful or alarming an occurrence than a man walking from one room into another." As the sage shook his head and glanced about in wonder, smiling ruefully and joyously at his new comrades, the boy added with a broad smile, "at least for those in the Master's keeping."

Corbin clapped the man joyously on the back and grinned broadly, "it seems you will now be delving into our secrets at last, old friend!"

The man frowned in dismay, asking of his old friend, "I don't have to keep the mule, do I?"

At which the whole party laughed heartily, but once his mirth was contained, the late knight assured, "only if you wish, my friend!"

Tobin did not join them in their second round of amusement, for he felt suddenly ill, and collapsed upon his favorite stone chair, his head in his hands. Bayard saw his reaction and motioned at his comrades, their jollity ceased so suddenly it might never have been. The sage rushed to the stricken boy's side, his keen eyes examining his patient as he moved, his head shaking in grim prognosis. The next moment the sage lay prone on the ground, as the boy rushed to his feet, his teeth bared in a hideous snarl, pushing the man aside as if he were an annoying dog, his eyes flaming red in his wrath.

"Did I not tell you so!" roared Tyne's triumphant voice from the mouth of the cave, as he came to claim his prize.

"You did indeed, fiend," said Corbin thoughtfully, his hand on his sword hilt but he did not draw it forth, "tell me, if you will, what is to come of this fretful beast, as yet unquickened?"

"What do you mean?" spat the fiend, his attention focused on his disoriented and furious brother, who had slunk to the back of the cavern, where he huddled, snapping and snarling if anyone dared come too close.

Corbin smiled grimly, "upon your last visit, we had just finished a rather curious philosophical discussion amongst ourselves, wondering what would come of the resulting monster and what might be the result, at least to ourselves professionally. Will it be a mortal creature, one we cannot best, but vulnerable to mortal men and needing to be replaced when slain or will it be an undead creature, one which we can vanquish but rising as easily from defeat as its rider?"

"Here then is your answer, ghost!" crowed Tyne, driving his sword into his thrashing brother's heart, his body in the throes of agony as it tried to take on a shape not naturally its own. The half-formed monstrosity wailed in pain and terror before slumping in death. Tyne produced his own waterskin, as incongruent a thing in his possession as it was to any Messenger, and poured a viscous black fluid over the ruined form. It shrieked in horrid triumph, completed its transformation, and looked upon the lot of them with hungry and vicious eyes, but there was no trace of sentience left therein, only the brutal eyes of a beast, one unnaturally cruel, but still a beast.

"That answers that," said Corbin, at last drawing his sword.

"No, allow me," said Tobin, suddenly appearing in their midst, sword in hand. He smote his brother in the back and lopped the head off the monster, both dissolved into a pittance of ash with a pitiful, keening wail. He quite literally beamed at his new comrades, "that was fun!" Taking in his radiant form, he added, "though it seems I have a few things to learn!" They joined in his mirth, engulfing him and the sage both in a warm and exuberant greeting.

"Can I just go back to leading my folk?" said the sage, once they returned to a particular haunted tower, though he could now consider the matter with the greatest amusement, now being in on the joke.

"Are you the true leader or just one who counsels and guides those that make the actual decisions?" asked Garren of one of his newest Messengers.

"I suppose it is more of an advisory position at that," mused the sage, and smiling keenly he added, "and there is nothing in this odd profession that prevents my continuing in such a position!"

"Though I may now steal Corbin for my own fell purposes," smiled the Captain vastly, "now that you can ward your own folk against any fiendish intruders."

"I can at that," agreed the mystified man, "who would have thought I might ever take up a sword in defense of my own folk?! I'm a scholar, not a warrior!"

"Now you're both at need," nodded the Captain, "take your elf and go see what your folk have been up to in your absence."

"We've been gone that long?" asked the man in concern.

"No," laughed Garren, "but it is not a good idea to leave one's minions long unsupervised."

"As you would well know," agreed the sage with a grin, and with a highly amused salute, he ventured downstairs to do just that, a grinning Ithril in tow.

The hitherto silent Corbin glanced at his Captain and queried, "you find something amusing, sir?"

"It's just nice to have someone else involved in this nonsense that isn't a clueless boy," mused he in reply.

Asked Bayard in confusion, "you regret your choices, Sir?"

The man snorted a laugh and tousled the boy's hair fondly, "certainly not lad, I appreciate the eagerness and zest you youngsters bring to your service, but there are also times I need the sense and wisdom experience often breeds."

Bayard frowned slightly, "what happens when we've all been at this a thousand years? Will there be such distinctions then?"

"Then there will only be the neophytes and the veterans," agreed Garren with a rueful chuckle, "can you tell I am quite new to this? I'm still thinking like a mortal officer!"

"Quite unbecoming to a man in your circumstances," said Corbin with a grave shake of his head, ruining this solemn statement with a vast smile.

"Spoken like a true lieutenant," said the Captain grimly, but with a thoughtful light in his eyes, which grew dangerous indeed, "which is a fate you have brought upon yourself, sir!"

"Gracious!" said Corbin in wonder, "So it is!" He eyed the grinning Bayard stonily, "don't you have something to be about lad?"

"I certainly hope so, sir," grinned the boy all the more, "lest I find myself promoted likewise!" They couldn't help themselves, officers though they be, the boy's mirth was very contagious and quite fatal to all comers.

Properly mounted at last, Tyne urged his new pet skyward, that they might at last destroy his home village once and for all, not that those were his particular orders, but rather it would be great fun! They stooped out of the lowering clouds like a hawk upon an unwary rodent, the beast's fire stoked and ready to unleash devastation and mayhem upon its master's command, but rather than the hunter, they became the prey. For as they fell like a meteor to earth, so too did something swoop upon the fiendish pair like a falcon upon a sparrow, snatching them out of midair, gripped in terrible claws, and vanishing swiftly back into the concealing clouds with its prey, as the villagers went about their business none the wiser.

"Let me go!" snarled Tyne, clutched in the claws of a vastly amused Aeril.

"Are you so certain?" laughed the dragon, "Your beast is dead and it will be quite a fall, then an even longer walk!"

"Then what do you suggest?" spat the villain.

"What would you recommend?" asked the dragon, "I am quite flexible." At the fiend's horrible, and certainly unrepeatable, insults, Aeril hissed grimly, "so be it, my little mouse!" They vanished with that dreadful light and reappeared a moment later, somewhere in the far north of the world, where all was lonely, mountainous wilderness. He left the ranting villain atop one great peak and flew off with the dead beast still clutched in its claws and vanishing anew, dropped the monster over the deepest known part of the sea; Aeril then vanished back to their haunted tower, no bigger than a pigeon in size, and as seemingly witless as the bird he portrayed, he darted through a vacant window and vanished therein.

"He's determined," said the Captain, as the creature lit on his shoulder and gave its report, "I wonder how long it will take that reprehensible pair to reunite."

The miniature dragon huffed in disgust, "he seems able to vanish and reappear as easily as we can; I do not doubt he can summon the fell thing to himself with his dark magics as well."

"It was a valiant try, my friend," smiled Garren grimly, "but there is little we can do to importune the wretched creatures." Added he with a vast smile, "but then so too are they stymied with how to deal efficiently with us."

"Why not just let him burn the place to the ground?" asked the dragon, at the Captain's astonished look, the reptile retorted jovially at his misperception, "Think you that I could propose such an atrocious plan, were it all it seemed upon first thought?"

Garren shook his head wryly and smiled, "that you couldn't, lad! Not in this odd profession, but I begin to understand! We'll give the fiend his chance after all!" He grew grave and added, "the Master help those who refuse our little plan!"

"That well might be your entire village," huffed the lizard in exasperation.

"It certainly wouldn't surprise me!" agreed the Captain sadly, "Take the two local lads and see what you can do for our benighted folk!"

At his significant look, the dragon laughed, "of course I'll do it in mortal guise, I am no clueless lad after all, whatever you call me!"

"Sorry," said the Captain, "but most of my command is made up of just that, including a certain elf, though centuries old he be!"

"But I am no such naive creature myself," smiled the dragon in vast amusement.

"I'll try and remember that," laughed the Captain, "but whatever you be, you have your marching orders!" The dragon saluted as best he could in that guise and vanished, eager for this intriguing quest he had set himself.

"We're going to allow Tyne to burn the village?" said Tobin in horror at the dragon's suggestion, as he, Bayard, and the apparently mad reptile met in a small clearing not far from the village in question.

Bayard translated for their newest comrade, "he could have done that himself any day since his arrival in the province, had he the wish, but since he's joined our little conspiracy, he's as impotent as we in importuning mortal men. He's merely suggesting we encourage our folk to flee, offering our services therewith, and since Tyne is determined to destroy the place, we can then give him that chance."

"Ah!" said Tobin in relief, "That makes far more sense!" But he frowned, adding, "what if they won't go?"

"That's their choice," sighed Bayard, "but one day Tyne will succeed, for we cannot be posted here forever to thwart his plans! We've a whole world to watch, not just one certain village, though it thinks itself the most important place known to man."

"But the Sage now watches over that old ruin, as did Corbin before him," said Aeril, "what then is the difference?"

"That old castle is some project of our Master's devising," replied Bayard, "who knows what part He would have it play in events yet to come? Therefore greater pains will be taken for its restoration and preservation than is the usual wont of mortal locations. It is also a place of refuge for those who are otherwise displaced, perhaps these very villagers, and therefore a prime target for the Enemy's wrath, whereas this little village is of no interest to him whatsoever, most of our folk being already under his sway, if unwittingly; what interest can the Fiend have in the place, save as the birthplace of one of his nameless minions, and this plot is merely that fiend's personal vendetta, our Foe has no reason to pay it further heed, for good or ill. Leaving a Messenger here indefinitely to mind the place, when they have been given an excellent chance to save their lives and begin anew elsewhere, is ridiculous, but I fear my folk will hang on here out of pure stubbornness and pride, and then blame our Master when one of their own succeeds in burning it to the ground."

"You have analyzed the situation well, lad," said the dragon in approval, "while I know much of men in general, of their social nature I know little, for dragons are quite a different creature, not only physically but socially as well." He eyed Bayard with a wry smile, "and knowing your folk 'of old,' I believe your apprehensions are well founded!"

"We can but try, my friends," sighed Tobin heavily, "but do we not serve the very Source of all miracles? Perhaps even in this most desperate case, we will be pleasantly surprised?" Off they dashed, approaching each and every house and farm, making sure all had heard and knew, that if they wished, they could avail themselves of the uncanny services, of those who had warned them, in relocating.

"The dragon is dead!" said one old matron, "I saw him fall from the sky meself! You just want to upset folk who want to mind their own business and not be bothered with such mischief! Off you scamp!"

"Leave?!" said one mystified man, "For so silly a reason? I'm quite sure we've had enough dealings with dragons of late to last a couple of lifetimes, we aren't due for another dragon incursion for another few centuries at least!"

"Don't be silly," laughed a certain young lady Tobin had once thought about pursuing in a romantic sense, though he was now quite relieved to discover all such matters were behind him, especially as his taste seemed rather wanting, said she, "why don't you just ask me to marry you and settle down like a sensible man!"

"No one wants to leave," sighed Bayard to his companions, when they at last regrouped in their particular clearing.

"Let's at least give them a chance to hear the old tales," said Tobin eagerly, "if they won't leave, perhaps we can prepare them for what is to come?"

"An excellent idea," agreed Aeril, "but I do not think you boys will accomplish much in that arena, let's call in an expert, one not a local!"

And there stood the sage, who nodded and smiled happily as Aeril outlined their plan, "well am I used to indifferent hearers," agreed he, "I'll give it a try!" He trotted off to the village, following all and sundry into the inn's common room as the night shadows lengthened without. At first they welcomed his tales, but soon they grew restless and annoyed, driving him at last from the inn. So too the following day when he tried to speak upon the green and with anyone he could find abroad on other errands. At last, they grew so wroth with him, that some of the biggest and burliest men in town were asked to deal with the matter personally.

"Physical violence?!" said the sage, as if astonished that they would consider such extreme measures to remove him from the village, for scholars were not used to being manhandled, but as he was now a warrior as well, he had best get used to the idea!

"If necessary," said their spokes-brute, "get you gone, man, before you regret it!"

"But you must listen!" protested the poor sage, "Evil is coming..." They lifted him bodily from the ground and dragged him to the edge of the village, and after a very thorough pounding, they left him to creep away or die, whichever it pleased him best to do.

"I did try lads," said the sage weakly, as the boys trotted up in distress, Bayard restoring him to full health and function with a glowing hand.

"I appreciate it," sighed Bayard heavily, sending the man back to his post with another flash of light. He turned to his companions and asked, "now what?"

"I suppose we do as they ask and leave them in peace," sighed the dragon.

"But that can mean only death," protested Tobin.

"Have you a better idea?" asked Bayard sadly, "They laughed at our warnings and the old tales both, thinking themselves too wise and important to heed us. Short of physically forcing them to relocate, an impossibility, there is nothing to be done. We will undoubtedly be ordered elsewhere, and there will be no one to save them!" He crumpled with a sword in his back, Aeril fell with a dagger in his heart, and as the shocked Tobin reached for his sword, Tyne lopped off his brother's head with his second stroke. The carrion vanished in a flash of light, as if it had never been, and he turned his wickedly smiling countenance towards his onetime home, eager to fulfill the young prophet's grim words.

Bayard stood in the mouth of Aeril's old cave, watching the embers burn low, tears in his eyes. His father stood beside him, a firm, steadying hand on the boy's shoulder and a grave expression on his face. Tobin stood there open-mouthed, shaking his head in horror and disbelief. There was nothing they could do, the villain was long vanished, any survivors had fled blindly into the dark, and nothing but the reek of a hundred dying fires remained, turning the morning mist into a murky and grim affair.

"Why?!" sobbed Tobin at last, when he could finally find words.

The Magpie lit on the Captain's shoulder and said sadly, "all men have a choice, child! I will no more impinge upon the least of their decisions than you can; we can but stand aside and weep when they choose their own destruction. But that is also why you serve as you do: that men may have a chance to choose the Right, the Good, the True, and the Beautiful, but some will always choose the easy, the selfish, or the vile, or choose not to choose at all, but we strive that some at least might be saved. Now come children, for yours is not the Kingdom of death and evil, but rather your birthright is Joy itself! There is much yet to be done, souls to be won or lost, ere the tale of the world is fully told!" They exchanged a wondering look and vanished suddenly about their next adventure, leaving the desolation to smolder as it would, but eager to see that others did not meet a like fate.

Ancient Evils

The woman looked upon the thrashing, sweating form upon the bed with a mixture of pity and horror; pity for the sake of her poor sister, who had so recently left her son an orphan, and horror at the unnatural shrieks, hissing, and snarls that escaped the lad in his fevered delirium. She had attended many a sickbed but she had never seen anything like this, and she had witnessed all manner of sorrow, miracle, strangeness, and tragedy in the vale of illness and death. The boy had set off not three days ago, quite eagerly, in the service of a stranger his own age, with significant wealth and probably a title to go with it. The young lord had ridden into the village, asked a few questions of the innkeeper and town elders, before proposing that the unfortunate lad accompany him on a hunting foray into the local mountains, for which he would be well compensated. More keen for the adventure than the much needed money, Bayard happily set out in company with the young lord and his companions, only to return a day later in the grip of the mysterious fever that now wrought unimaginable havoc upon his body and in the minds of his nearest surviving kin. His aunt had tried to apologize to His Excellency for the boy's sudden malady and the need to return him home prematurely, saying he was not often taken ill and that there was no need for him to curtail his hunting, certainly another guide and assistant could be found immediately, if he would only wait.

The young man had seemed far more amused by the whole business rather than furious or even annoyed. He paid all of the promised wages, though the boy had been hired for a full week yet had served only a day, and added a few extra coins to help assuage the family's grief in the current crisis; he assured the distraught woman that no offense was taken and that family business called him home, thus bringing his outing to an end regardless. He then returned to his waiting companions and rode quickly away. Grizelda stared down in amazement at her afflicted nephew and shook her head, wondering at the generosity of the vanished lord. She pocketed the coins and ordered two of her sons to help her get the unconscious form somewhere out of the way. She would not allow him in the house, out of fear that the infection might spread, but as it was early summer, he would no doubt be just as comfortable on a pallet in one of the outbuildings. She made him as comfortable as she could then went back to her interrupted chores, checking on him from time to time, but there was nothing to be done but wait the fever out. Then came the unearthly noises, as if he were some vicious beast trapped and terrified, and she was doubly glad the youth was not housed with her own, dear family and that none of the neighbors would hear such a ghastly din.

The next morning, the fever broke and not long thereafter the boy regained his senses. He weakly sat up and took the water his aunt offered him, momentarily flinching back from her touch and voice, as if he knew her not or carried an innate fear of all mankind. But the reaction was momentary and he allowed himself to be tended, as best she knew how. He left his bed the next day, his strength and appetite returned with a will though he was listless and rather quiet; his aunt thought him pining for the adventure he should have had or succumbing again to the reignited grief that had consumed him after his mother's passing. She could nurse his body, but she had little patience or skill with afflictions of the heart. She returned to her usual tasks, happy to have him physically well, certain that time would do what was needed for the rest of him. He too returned to his usual chores as soon as he was physically able, but his heart was not in his work or anything else. There was a haunted, confused look in his eyes; as if he had seen something that he could neither remember nor find words to describe, yet it was a thing so terrible he could never forget.

The other villagers had paid but little heed to him previously, the quiet child of a penniless widow was no concern of theirs, when he lost his mother, his aunt and uncle had taken him in and the matter was settled with no trouble to anyone else, but now they intentionally avoided him as they might a known villain, such was the aura of fear and dread about him. His aunt felt it too and found him various tasks to be accomplished away from the village as often as possible. She was not superstitious but there was just something downright eerie about the lad.

His body had fully recovered, but his mind was far from whole. He still had vivid visions of terrible scenes he could neither remember nor describe, yet he felt the unutterable pain, the suffocating horror about him, as if he were that very moment in the midst of whatever had happened. He knew something had happened, something dreadful, but what? How could he heal if the visions would never fade? Or if he did not know what had happened? This was the greatest source of his disquiet, for he felt he must go mad if he must endure a life such as this; it was a greater source of grief to him than even his mother's death had been. He continued to inattentively split the wood before him, focusing most of his concentration on his doleful predicament and the riddles therein. The horse was nearly upon him before her heard the steady fall of hooves. He looked up from his unhappy reverie and was amazed to see a Knight, resplendent in full armor, drawing up his warhorse just feet from where he stood, axe forgotten in his hand.

The Knight raised his visor and studied the boy silently for a few moments, before saying, "are you the lad who accompanied a certain hunting party into the wilds hereabouts not long ago?" Bayard nodded dumbly, silent in awe. The Knight slid from his saddle, began doffing his cumbersome armor, and said quietly, "we must talk." Bayard shook himself awake and helped the young man out of the worst of his armor though he was unfamiliar with the task. Between them, the boy was soon free of his metal carapace and they vanished silently, deeper into the woods. The knight stopped and listened for a full ten minutes, satisfied that they were alone, he sat on a fallen log and the boy did likewise. They studied one another for several minutes before the knight said, "what can you tell me of the men you accompanied and what transpired whilst you were amongst them?"

Bayard shook his head and frowned in concentration, "there were two young men, brothers, of wealth and possibly of noble birth. They had no servants or other companions, which seemed odd that they would undertake a prolonged hunting foray unaccompanied, but then I assumed they preferred to hire a few locals to provide what aid they might need for reasons of their own and I never asked more. I was hired for a week's service, but apparently took ill that night and was brought back to the village the next day. I remember little after riding out of the village, save that we met up with a small company of rough looking and evil seeming fellows and rode towards the foothills. My aunt said that she did not see the younger brother in the company when they returned me to the village, but the rest of those ill-feeling fellows were still with the elder brother."

The young knight scratched his chin and stared at the ground in thought, before saying, "I am seeking my youngest brother, the men you describe are undoubtedly my two younger brothers but I do not know who these foul companions might be; the elder of the two returned alone from whatever misadventures had befallen them and he would say little about the fate of our youngest brother, only that the boy had come to grief in the wilderness and the details were too painful to recount. His grief seems only superficial, but my father will not pursue the matter further, pained as he is by the apparent loss of one son, he will not antagonize another. So I have set forth to discover the truth of the matter."

Bayard nodded glumly, "my aunt says your brother seemed rather excited or eager about something when he brought me home. She was amazed that he was neither angry nor disappointed at the waste of his time upon the ruined hunt. He was in nowise grieving the loss of his brother or suffering the ill effects of an unnamed horror." He turned haunted eyes on the young knight and continued, "I however, seem to suffer acutely from something I must have experienced but can neither remember nor even name."

"What is he up to?" mused the young knight to himself. He said quietly to his companion, "my father is King and my remaining brother has never contented himself in knowing that he would not be next in line for the throne. I am not surprised he is plotting against me but I do not know what he is up to. It seems it is not only my youngest brother who has fallen afoul of his schemes, and I fear the entire Kingdom might soon suffer from his grasp for power if he is not stopped." His gaze hardened as a thought occurred to the young knight, "what is your part in all of this? He had his fell companions for whatever mischief they were about so he did not need a servant, a guide, or unnecessary witnesses. And why return you to your village? I do not doubt he could have easily slit your throat and left you to rot unmourned in the wilderness, orphan as you are."

Bayard nodded glumly, knowing his aunt would not shed many tears had he been 'savaged by wild beasts,' nor would she ask too many questions as long as the young scoundrel saw that she was compensated. What had been done to him? Why the lingering terror and pain? What induced the fever? The young knight seemed to read his thoughts, as he said, "I do not know. I came here looking for answers but have found only riddles. Perhaps one of the Sages can help us?" A slight, eager smile trembled on Bayard's lips, the first he had managed since the fever took him. He might have his adventure yet.

They returned to the waiting horse, along with the forgotten armor, and Bayard's wood. Kyan donned the less cumbersome bits of his armor and loaded the rest onto the back of his horse. Bayard gathered up his axe and an armload of wood; together they returned to the village, as it was too late in the day to set out anew. Mistress Grizelda was quite flattered to have such a guest to supper and even allowed her nephew to eat at the family table with the rest of the clan, rather than in the kitchen with the hired boys. She was even more excited when the young knight asked if he might borrow her nephew for a brief excursion upon the morrow.

"By all means," said she with an insincere grin, "we can spare him indefinitely, have you need of him."

The knight smiled grimly and said, "that I have madam. We set out tomorrow at dawn. Will you see that a horse is provided for the lad and that we have ample provisions? I shall compensate you accordingly."

She beamed, bowed, and hastened to the kitchen to give orders to the servants. Bayard wondered if he would be better afoot or if his aunt would give him the use of a decent horse. Kyan's knowing smile said he would not be had by such a conniving yokel. Bayard relaxed and tried to enjoy the meal, finding hope for the first time since his illness; soon they might have an answer and if not, at least they were attempting to find one, rather than pretending the conundrum did not exist and might suddenly vanish of its own accord.

There was little sleep for either of the adventurers that night and they left as soon as there was light enough to see. The woman had indeed tried to send them on their way with moldy bread and a foundered horse, but a little judicious prompting from Kyan, or rather his coin purse, soon set matters to rights. They left in good time, well supplied, and adequately mounted. There were no fond farewells for either of them, as the family saw the knight as too shrewd and the nephew as a nuisance well rid of, even so Bayard's hope burgeoned like the rising day. They rode on in silence, seeking the Sage that was said to dwell at the foot of the mountains and hoping he had an answer. They traveled on companionably for several days, but neither was much for talking: the prince out of concern for his Kingdom and family, Bayard in desperate hope. On the evening of the third day, they came to a ramshackle cottage that crouched between a slow moving river and the rocky foot of one of the great mountains that bordered the eastern edge of the Kingdom. They had hardly drawn rein and vacated their saddles before a great hound bounded out of the hovel and raised such a ruckus that those on the far side of the mountain might have heard it. Kyan laid his hand to his sword but did not yet draw it forth. Bayard tensed and glanced about nervously.

An old bearded man bounded out of the cottage every bit as rashly as his dog, sword in hand, but he froze in confusion, staring at the strangers, as if he had never before seen a mortal man. He motioned to the hound, which ceased its baleful howling with a quiet growl and bared teeth, but it slunk quietly back to the cottage and watched them suspiciously from a corner of the ruin. The man then studied his visitors for a moment, cunning and humor shining in his ancient eyes, before he said, "I apologize for the creature, he has never been wrong to my knowledge, but perhaps there is more to you than you seem. Come in if that is your wish, for we have much to discuss, I think."

There was a small meadow between the house and the river where the horses could find adequate fodder and once they were attended to, the entire company entered the man's ruinous hut. As they seated themselves and the man set about brewing tea and preparing a small repast, Bayard asked, "you said the dog is never wrong. What is he never wrong about?"

The old man looked at the lad over his shoulder and said, "his is a curious breed, able to sniff out creatures and men of an evil nature."

A chill ran up the boy's spine as he asked, "and how are you so sure he is wrong?"

The Sage smiled warmly, "I do not doubt there is something curious about my visitors but I also know neither of you have come to do me immediate harm. I shall pour the tea while you tell your tale, and then we shall see what comes of it and if the poor brute is truly mistaken." The dog stood outside the open door and studied them for a time, but soon he entered, bared his teeth at Bayard, and then stood aloofly on the far side of his master. The sage laughed, "it seems it is you he doesn't like lad, come, tell me what troubles you and agitates my poor dog."

The boys exchanged a curious look and Kyan began the tale, what of it there was, and Bayard finished with his own troubles. The sage listened silently throughout and frowned as Bayard completed the tale. He shook his head gravely, "no wonder the poor hound is vexed and you are haunted by visions of terror and dread!" He turned grim eyes upon Kyan, "I am afraid your youngest brother is dead and I fear the other might be worse or soon will be."

Kyan frowned, "how can one be worse than dead?"

The sage said quietly, "death is a natural part of life. I fear your brother has involved himself in something quite against the laws of nature and its Maker. I fear he is dabbling in blood magic of the worst sort; the kind that brought an end to the Lost Realm." Kyan buried his head in his hands and groaned in heart-wrenching agony. The sage turned grim eyes upon Bayard, "and you have unwittingly been drawn into the midst of it. You have not seen the last of this vile youth and I fear when his plans come to fruition, the world itself may be laid waste before him. And you."

Bayard gave a hollow laugh, "you think I will somehow destroy the world?"

The sage stood and rummaged around in a bin of assorted junk, as he replied, "not you, but what you will become. That is why the dog is unsettled and you are troubled with visions and fever: some grim curse has been laid upon you and the one who cast it waits only for it to take effect."

He pulled a small item out of the bin of rubbish and tossed it to Bayard, who caught it reflexively but then immediately cast it aside, as if it burned him, crying, "what is that?"

The old man stooped to pick up the stone and held it calmly in his hand, saying sadly, "a test that has confirmed your doom." He sank into his chair as if he had aged a hundred years, Kyan miserably lifted his head at this pronouncement, and the sage finished grimly, "when next the moon is full, a dragon shall again dwell upon the earth." Kyan gasped and Bayard paled, both too horrified to speak for some minutes. The sage continued in their silence, "yes, the creatures have been extinct since the doom that befell the Lost Realm consumed them as well. Long ago, in the First Days, perhaps dragons were as capable as men in choosing how to live their lives, but for all of recorded history the race has been invariably evil, seeking ever and only to gratify their own lusts and greed. What the traitorous prince hopes to gain by his meddling, I shudder to think."

The hound issued a violent whine, almost a shriek, and vanished out the backdoor in terror, as the sage looked after him in confusion, but the answer was obvious enough when Kyan gasped, "Tyne!" and the aforementioned traitorous younger brother answered the old man's rhetorical question with an amused, if malicious, smile, "good job old man, I had quite despaired of my foolish brother or anyone else figuring out the riddle, but this makes my victory almost complete. As to your silly question, the answer is quite simple; you have figured out everything else, what hinders you in this? Every great villain needs a grand mode of transportation, does he not? What grander way to get about than aback the fiercest beast known to man or myth?" The sage tried to mouth an answer but Tyne continued triumphantly, "of course I know such a beast will never bend its stubborn will to mine so I have arranged for that as well. If I can recreate an extinct species through blood magic, what can I not do? Thankfully, the pair of you has volunteered to provide what I need to complete my plans." He smiled truculently, "and I see no reason why we must wait." At his words, the hut was filled with a variety of ugly, evil, and foul villains who easily took the three captive and marched them outside.

The sage was still gaping like a landed fish, trying to say something portentous or witty, but Tyne said it for him, "you threaten that the calamity that destroyed the Lost Realm will undoubtedly fall upon me? I think not, that was a disaster certainly, but still quite natural if unexpected. There is no 'power' to avenge such an abuse of justice or distortion of the natural order of things. You are alone, all of creation is alone, and I shall do with it as I please. If there be gods, I shall stand foremost among them. My brother will be first." The vile henchmen easily overpowered the reluctant prince and dragged him towards his brother, where he stood holding a knife beside a great, flat-topped stone.

Bayard and the Sage averted their eyes from what was to come and whispered quietly to one another, as the villains focused upon their dreadful chore. Said the sage, "they will not kill you, but worse shall be your fate in a few days."

Bayard swallowed hard but said, "how can I stop this evil from being loosed upon the world?"

The sage shook his head grimly, "your death is the only remedy." The boy nodded grimly, as the villains that held them finally noticed their whispers and buffeted them into silence.

Bayard glanced up briefly at the business that occupied Tyne and wished with all his heart that he had not. Even as he watched, the knife found its mark, and Tyne contorted in agony as his brother breathed his last. When Tyne stood once more, he could not be recognized as a man. Tyne pointed a skeletal hand at the sage, his shuddering minions pushed the old man towards him while others produced what looked like some sort of harness for a great horse. Bayard shivered, realizing it was meant for him or whatever he was to become. Apparently the sage's blood would seal the curse that was to be laid upon the harness, that it might overcome the will of the as yet unquickened dragon. Bayard averted his eyes and tried not to listen. The ordeal was quickly over and this time Bayard was pushed forward and forced to endure the skeletal smile and burning gaze of the hideous creature before him. Scoffed Tyne, "rest easy boy, while boy you remain. Your own doom will come soon enough and then the world shall tremble before me! Release the boy, let him wallow in his misery until I seek him at the appointed time." The man holding Bayard threw him to the ground and they retreated to the sound of their master's hideous, triumphant laughter. Bayard lay on the ground and wept.

Exhausted, he finally sat up and stared upon the moon, nearing full; he then glanced at his murdered friends, left lying in their own blood, and wondered if theirs was not the kinder fate. What was to come of him? What was to come of the world? Who could stop such a fiend? Was there no hope? Could the villain be correct, that there were no gods but only vile men who made themselves such? But the cold, bright moon shining down on his misery and the few brilliant stars peeping through the thin veil of cloud eased his heart. Somewhere in the night an owl called and the river continued to murmur dreamily of the far off sea. There was life and beauty and goodness yet in the world, untouched by the sorrow and evil of this or any night. From whence did it spring, if not from some True Good? Evil was powerful and had much sway in the world, but if it were all-powerful and absolute, the world could not be as it was: full of light and joy and beauty amidst the horror and sorrow and grief. The words and faith of his late mother and grandmother returned to him and comforted his stricken soul. He felt a sudden peace wash over him, a peace not of this world but from the wellsprings of joy beyond it. He looked again to the heavens and said quietly, "this is beyond me, for You alone can put the shadows to flight and hold the fate of the world in Your hand. What is to be done? What must I do?"

The words of the murdered sage came again to his mind, Death, yes it was the only way, but how? He saw a glimmer of moonlight amongst the carnage and took up the knife that had wrought such grief. He studied it for a few moments and sighed heavily, knowing he could not drive it into his own breast as perhaps he ought; whether it was lack of courage on his part or some Will working against his own to spare his hands the burden of innocent blood, even be it his own, he knew not. Idly fingering the crimson blade, he turned his eyes towards the great black face of the mountain that blotted out the stars like a great shadow set to consume all light and joy. Could he climb up into the hills and find some lofty precipice from which to fling himself? The sleepy whisper of the river then drew his attention, but he knew he could not drown his sorrows in its watery embrace. He knew life as he knew it must soon cease if horrors unspeakable were not to be loosed upon the unwary world, but neither could he move against himself. Here was yet another riddle with no obvious answer, what was to be done? The answer came immediately as the sound of hooves and the scrape of swords being drawn forth filled his ears.

He looked up and found himself surrounded by a score of mounted men, each clutching a sword, a bow, or a spear at the ready. Several held torches aloft and there echoed a communal gasp as the company recognized at least one of the slain. Bayard smiled grimly down at the knife in his hand and the dead men at his feet, doubting anyone would believe he had no part in such mischief. The captain of the company dismounted with his second and strode forward, the latter bearing a torch. He crossed his arms and stared in astonishment at the peasant before him, asking in grief and surprise, "why, how?"

The boy glanced up, his awkward smile at the irony of the situation not helping his case, saying, "I take it you have come seeking a certain crown prince?"

The captain said grimly, "his Majesty the King has tasked me with bringing home all of his sons. How am I to tell him that his eldest lies dead at the hands of an unwashed peasant while he still mourns the loss of his youngest?"

Bayard knew he could not explain the situation so did not even try, but he did caution the grim young captain, hardly knowing from whence sprung his words, "it is a tragic tale through and through, the youngest and the eldest met the same fate and it is their middle brother whose hands are red with their blood even as his soul has become black in the service of evil, for he has somehow managed to renew the ancient blood magic, forbidden of old, and has become something truly terrible at great cost to his kith and kin and soon the world will share in their grief. His followers you might vanquish but the surviving prince, no mortal man can slay."

Said the grief-stricken captain in ill-contained fury, "and what is your own part in this horrid tale?"

Bayard dropped the knife and knelt before this grim messenger of justice, "I am an unwitting accomplice to evil. Strike and strike true, ere worse comes of it." Even as he knelt before the naked sword of the young captain, Bayard felt something shift within himself, something grim and hungry, something yearning to be free. The pain that accompanied his visions suddenly flared to life in his waking flesh and an evil light burned in his eyes.

The captain stared in astonishment for a moment, surprised by what the youth suggested, but the sudden changes wrought in the boy's face and eyes decided him. With a swift stroke he should have sundered the boy's head from his shoulders, but the blade only accomplished half its work. The boy hissed and writhed, his body convulsing even as his skin darkened into a black, scaly hide. Horrified, the captain struck again with all his might and this time the blade finished its task. The head of some hideous reptile rolled away and gaped like that of a decapitated fish while the body thrashed and flailed about, its bat-like wings flapping madly. The captain dropped his sword as it began to smoke and melt where the acidic black blood stained the blade. The creature itself soon fell prey to its own acrid blood and dissolved into a smoking, viscous pool that burned down to the very bedrock. The horses whinnied nervously and the men shifted in their saddles, glancing about with wide eyes, their hands tight on their weapons.

Bayard felt the thing within him, pushing him away, smothering him, overwhelming body and mind, knowing itself in mortal danger it stirred before the spell was complete and almost was it loosed upon the world, a hideous, half-formed monster, but still a creature of immense power, evil, and cunning. Had the captain hesitated a moment longer, the story might well have ended quite differently, but unknowingly he spared the world a fate far worse than the overthrow of a Kingdom. The first stroke had loosed the boy from his mortal constraints and left only the monster to contend with.

Free of pain, doubt, fear, and grief, the once stricken soul rejoiced in its sudden release. A great nothing was all about him and he knew it to be the Void, outside of all space and time and reality, out of which creation had been called and into which all evil would one day be cast. He was not afraid, for he felt himself an observer rather than a denizen of the endless Nothing, for somehow he knew that it was not 'now' as he had once known the present but rather a 'then' that had happened long ago. For he knew it was the moment when the worlds were made; he was to witness the birth pangs of creation.

There was music of a kind, but one that vibrated the entire being rather than just the bones and fluid of the ears. The joy, the wonder, the intensity can find no expression in the written words of any tongue as Something came forth from Nothing. And such a Something! He had wondered at the beauty of the moon and stars and night and here was something a trillion-fold more wondrous. Whether it was moments or eons, he could not have said, but the worlds, stars, and all the occupants of the heavens resolved themselves into Something and on one particular world, life sprang forth in all its varied forms and Bayard knew that it was Good. Good and perfect and wonderful, but there was a shadow lurking just beyond sight, a discordant note in the symphony of creation. It could not destroy what its former Master had wrought, but it could suggest, tempt, and corrupt through pride and rebellion, the same road it had taken long ago, forsaking the joys of its Master to become its own master. And so it did, and the first fathers of all creation listened and bethought themselves wise thus flinging all creation into the sway of darkness and evil and death. Bayard had heard the tale, but seeing it played out before him, convulsed his being with such sorrow and grief that he was beyond thinking for a very long time. He wondered that the whole project was not scrapped and begun anew or never repeated, for what was yet to come might well be worse.

Provisions were made for the sundered creation, it could not flourish in perfection as had been intended but it could thrive in a fallen and corrupted state for a time. But men were not content to be masters of the mortal sphere and fell deeper into evil and corruption, summoning forbidden powers through means dreadful and hideous. The Old World was so corrupt, that indeed it must be destroyed. But there was mercy and pity amongst the justice that must soon come upon the world. A few who had not corrupted themselves were called out from among the cities and kingdoms of the world and told to seek shelter among the high hills and in the wildwood; their kith and kin mocked their timidity and foolishness and returned to their own petty diversions until the dragons came. So it was that war raged between men and dragons until all but a few were destroyed, and those that survived the war could not escape the plague that followed hard upon its heels. The lands of men were sere and burned for many a year while the refugees lived amongst the hills, tending sheep or hunting game in the silent woods. Eventually the lands were again green under the sun and the descendants of those who had fled returned to the former habitations of men, the blood magic and evil of those days only a legend to warn future generations.

But the heart of man is corrupt above all things and again civilization fell into discontent and evil, but instead of destroying the race and beginning anew, this time He came Himself, to see if at last their hearts might turn to their Master and willingly might they live in His Light. They heard His words and gladly accepted His wondrous acts on their behalf, but they soon grew jealous and angry that He would speak against their ways and soon grew into a murderous rage. But in His death, the world found life and corruption its cure. He was not mastered by death but rather He mastered it, bringing life anew to all who would trust in Him and follow His ways. He left the world again to itself, leaving His words and people to show others the Way to true Life until the days were complete and the world itself would be redeemed and renewed.

Bayard was left silent in awe, humility, and wonder. He had done it for mankind, for him, a nameless boy! He could be a partaker in all the wonder and joy of his Master! Ah, wretched fool! How blind he had been! At last he could see and his entire being rejoiced at the prospect. But what of this rising evil in the world? The blood magic and worse had returned; the days grew short and dark but there was yet work to be done. He smiled, and knew he must go back, but this time he would not go alone, nor had he ever been; he just had not known it at the time.

The creature had finally ceased thrashing and had melted into a poisonous puddle where never again would anything grow. The young captain ordered his men to bury the prince and his unnamed companion, wondering how he was going to break such news to the boy's father, but dreading even more the pursuit of the treacherous middle brother. He had been warned by that strange boy not to attempt such a pursuit, but his duty bid him onwards, regardless of the danger to himself and his men. The moon, three days from full, stood high and bathed the river and its sandy bank in a silver luminescence whose peace seemed to mock the horror of the new dug graves and the blood soaked earth. A hummock of silver sand suddenly began to move, as if a great rodent burrowed beneath it. Slowly it heaved itself to its feet, lifting a great serpentine neck and a draconian head with eyes that twinkled like stars and a hide that shone like freshly polished silver. The men had frozen in their work, to stare at this latest horror, knowing their own doom had come. The creature sat upon its haunches, surveyed the terrified men for a moment, and then vanished in a brilliant flash of starlight, leaving only a peasant boy in its wake, blinking in disbelief. Not to be outdone, the mist that hovered over the placid river congealed itself into the likeness of a bearded old man who glanced about in wonder.

The men continued to stare, as if they were merely statues of men, frozen in the throes of terror and awe for all time. A man rode into their midst, for a moment appearing a fell warrior on a winged and awesome horse, but in the next he was merely a young man on a fair but common horse. He slid from his saddle as the pair by the river made their way to the now quivering men, who knew not whether it was a nightmare or madness that had seized them. They stood silent with terror for a time, recognizing two as the men they had just buried and the third as their apparent murderer. Instead of drawing swords and exacting revenge upon one another, the three seeming ghosts exchanged warm smiles and excited glances.

The captain finally overcame his dread, for the sake of his men and his own sanity, and stepped boldly forward, bowing as he faced his murdered lord. Kyan stepped towards him with a great smile and drew the abashed captain into an ecstatic embrace. The captain looked into the eyes of the former prince and smiled in wonder, for his gaze held all the warmth and wisdom and courage of former days, but deepened into a peace and joy that no earthly sorrow or terror could now touch. His grip was warm and strong, not cold and bitter, as a ghost's must be.

Kyan stepped back from the overawed captain and said, "now Kipril, what is to come of you?"

The captain bowed once more, this time eager and joyous, saying, "I am bidden by the King to return all of his errant sons to him immediately."

"That cannot be," said Garren, the late Sage, "the surviving prince, if he can truly be numbered among the living, such as he has become, is no longer within the purview of mortal men. To accost him as such will undoubtedly end your career amongst the living; leave him to us. You can however, deal with his foul companions, for they have not utterly sold their souls irrevocably into evil."

Kipril did not seem much pleased with this, as it would mean defying the King, whom he had sworn to serve to the death. Kyan smiled at the captain's predicament and said with a laugh, "your duty to the King will be fulfilled in protecting the Kingdom from his treasonous son and his henchmen. As far as my father is concerned, all of his sons are dead to him, thus is your duty served. In three days, the villain will return to claim what he perceives as his own and you and your men shall await him here. We will deal with the fiend and you with his followers."

The captain bowed and said grimly, "as you wish it Sire, so shall it be." He eyed the three strangely, the unasked question burning in his eyes. Kyan laughed, "and yes, we shall tell you all the tale while we await this dread foe."

Kipril ordered his men to relax and to set up camp; he had to repeat himself thrice before they began to move and resume their status among the animated. As they went about their chores, they glanced curiously at the three apparitions amongst them but the captain maintained a calm and confident demeanor, at least on the outside, which seemed to give them resolve enough to carry out his orders. Once the company was settled for the night, the captain called them together and they sat on the sandy banks of the river while the full tale was told, at least as much of it as can be fitted to mortal words. They were both horrified and relieved by these revelations, alas that these wicked days should come upon their beloved King, but they rejoiced greatly that they were not alone in this fight, nor in the world either. To a man, they swore themselves that night to the Master's service in the age old war against the darkness. Exhausted and exhilarated by the day's events and revelations, the weary men tried to find what sleep they could in the remnants of the night, while Kipril drew aside with his strange companions, "what have my men and I embroiled ourselves in this night?"

The sage grinned, "nothing new or peculiar, you have just officially taken a stand in a war that has raged since before the worlds were made. As have we."

"I feel as if I am abandoning the King!" said the captain in concern.

Kyan shook his head, "for a time at least, your duties and the King's welfare coincide, but there may come a day when the King's ideals and those of the Master conflict, then you must choose whom you will serve."

The soldier nodded thoughtfully but the tension went out of his face as the words sank in. He smiled then, in vast amusement as he recounted his amazement that a peasant lad, armed with only a knife, could overcome such a warrior as the former Prince and so sturdy a man as the sage seemed to be. Bayard laughed heartily at this presentation of himself, affirming that he was quite unlikely to succeed in such a venture but quite grateful to the captain for acting as he did. Kipril gave him a lopsided grin, saying, "I never thought to be thanked for sundering a man's head from his shoulders!"

The three exchanged a thoughtful look, before Garren spoke, "had you not acted thus, the world would be on the brink of a bitter and dreadful dawn." The captain shook his head in wonder, never having thought that dealing out justice for his slain lord could have such grand repercussions.

Bayard pressed something into his hands with a grateful smile, "if ever you have need of me, you have only to hold this and ask." Kipril looked upon the tiny dragon figurine, fancifully wrought in shining silver. He placed it carefully in his belt pouch and wondered at such a marvelous gift.

His discomfort returned momentarily as he remembered he was chatting with creatures more strange and fabulous than any he had ever imagined or read about in any story. Garren laughed, "easy man, we are still men just like you, save perhaps we have an uncanny ability or two to aid us in the tasks our Master shall soon set us."

Kipril took a deep breath and smiled nervously, "perhaps, but it has been a strange night."

Kyan stood and Kipril courteously followed suit; the former prince smiled at his onetime servant, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, "and you had best do as your men and get what sleep you can." The man smiled gratefully and withdrew into the grey mists of dawn.

Garren motioned with his head that his companions should join him for a quiet conference of their own, well away from the slumbering soldiers. They vanished silently towards the river where they sat and told of what they each had seen since their parting. Kyan eyed Bayard curiously and asked, "what is to keep my brother from trying again where he failed with you? He is stubborn enough to get what he wants no matter how many times he must try."

Bayard grinned like an impish child, "he can try all he likes, but he shall not succeed. The race of dragons has passed from the earth and I am bidden to see that it remains so. If he tries again or a thousand times, never shall his machinations bear fruit; I will see to that."

Kyan smiled eagerly, "a fitting task for you my friend, after all you have endured. My own quest shall be to build up a mortal army, which shall defend their fellow men from the wicked servants of evil in the coming days, as the shadows lengthen and the evening of the world comes. We have made an excellent beginning this very night."

He looked curiously at the sage, who smiled warmly and said, "mine is a less exciting task it seems, at least to you hot-blooded youngsters. To me, it will be just the thing. I am to build up the ranks of those who speak the Truth of our Master and aid them in dispersing His Words to all corners of the earth, that all might hear before the fall of final night."

Bayard queried, "can we not stop Tyne from spreading his lies and murder throughout the known world?"

Kyan shook his head, "we can perhaps defeat him for a time but he cannot be killed or imprisoned like a mortal man. His foul witchery will continue to gain followers who thirst after power, just as he does. If only it were so simple a matter as killing one man and destroying whatever books or scrolls that contain the knowledge that corrupted him and may destroy others, should it come into their keeping."

Garren shook his head, "there is no record of such horrid men, even in the darkest days of the Lost Realm. While the blood magic he has revived is the same, he has taken it to a deeper, darker, and more gruesome level. Such practitioners, in the Lost Days at least, maintained their mortality; he has utterly sold himself into evil. I wonder how he came by learning the Forbidden Arts? I suppose a book of such vile knowledge survived in a forgotten ruin and somehow he laid hands on it?"

Kyan shook his head sadly, "ever has he sought to satisfy his own lusts and desires, never caring what it might cost others to attain them. I am sorry to say it does not surprise me."

Bayard asked, "what of your youngest brother? Had he any inkling of what Tyne was up to?"

Kyan shook his head sadly, "alas, he looked up to both of his elder brothers, perhaps more than he should, and he was especially fond of Tyne. They were often found together, plotting some little mischief or escapade to liven up their rather quiet days. I suppose this was one plot too many and he paid for it with his life."

Bayard placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, "do not despair, perhaps he has found his place, as we have found ours?"

Kyan shook his head sadly, "nay, he was a skeptic until the last. He and Tyne often hassled me about my so-called foolishness and felt my father's shared belief in such 'nonsense' did nothing but weaken the Kingdom, but it will be Tyne's unorthodox pursuits that shall lead the Kingdom into ruin."

Garren smiled grimly, "only if we let him act unopposed, but your father does not stand alone." His smile deepened in amusement, "and I cannot wait to see the look on your brother's face when he realizes what has come of his current scheme." They joined in his mirth and talked quietly for what remained of the night. In the morning, or rather midday as the company was long abed, Kipril and Garren entered the crumbling cottage to see what, if anything, might be useful to the young man in his new role as Captain of the burgeoning White Guard. The hound crept in the backdoor and whined pitifully at his late master, who smiled and bid the captain take such a valuable and useful animal. Said Garren, "his roots go back to the dogs that fled with their masters before the world was Lost. He has a peculiar ability to sense evil in all its varieties and will serve you well in all that is to come. You had best take him, for I have no use for a dog now." The beast whined plaintively but was perplexed by the changes wrought in his master and seemed almost eager to attach himself to someone who still drew breath.

For two more days, they discussed strategy and plans for the coming confrontation and also for the days thereafter. The men were much heartened and eager to embark on this new quest to which they had committed themselves, though loathing the advent of their onetime prince. The evening of the full moon's rise, the mortal members of the company withdrew into the surrounding trees, weapons at the ready, while Garren and Kyan vanished like mist and moonlight. Bayard sat alone by the river, trying his best to look pathetic and wretched, rather than eager. His keen ears brought the tale of a mounted party approaching long before they appeared. The hideous Tyne dismounted and ordered his minions to leave them in peace, save the pair carrying the tainted harness. "Ready, my pet?" mocked he.

Bayard said quietly, "you will not succeed in this or any other attempt at such foul witchery."

Tyne smiled condescendingly at the fool, "I already have." He muttered a few fell words under his breath as the moon peeked above the rim of the world; Bayard felt himself changing, not suddenly, as he had done upon reentering the mortal world but rather more slowly and without the pain of his previous visions. He forced himself to hide his smile, for he knew the entire performance was merely a ruse for Tyne's benefit.

Where once his hide had glittered like starlight, now it was dark as the starless void: consuming all light rather than radiating beauty to worlds unknown. The two remaining minions squawked in terror, before dropping their burden and vanishing after their comrades, while Tyne muttered under his breath about worthless fools. He took up the discarded harness and began placing it on the quickening dragon, eager to be astride the magnificent beast. The transformation and harnessing complete, Bayard did his best to imitate a state of willing somnolence, though it took all his control to keep from laughing hysterically, which would be a sight indeed should it happen to a dragon. Tyne climbed aback the fearsome beast and ordered him aloft. Bayard readily complied and leapt into the air, leaving Tyne's minions to the mercies of the waiting Whiteguard.

Once they were well away from the unsuspecting myrmidons and Tyne had no hope of aiding his beleaguered henchmen, Bayard said nonchalantly, "you do know this is utterly ridiculous?"

Tyne nearly fell out of his saddle, "you should not have a thought to call your own beast! What is this?"

Bayard's eager grin showed a mouth full of awful teeth as he dove, climbed, and circled until his passenger did not know if he was coming or going, falling or flying. Bayard settled on a rocky precipice high amidst the range at whose foot squatted the sage's cottage. He turned his head, cocked it roguishly, and looked upon the flummoxed Tyne, who demanded again, "what is this?"

Bayard's hide lightened to its more usual silver and the foul creature screamed in anguish, the light burning his eyes. Then Bayard vanished completely, only to appear immediately as the common boy he had always been. He smiled impishly at the furious Tyne, who had been suddenly deposited on the rocky slope amidst a pile of useless dragon harness. Fumed Tyne, "what sorcery is this? I will not be treated so! I command you to obey me! This cannot be!"

Bayard shook his head, "there is only One I serve and Him alone. Be warned, should you attempt such folly again, I will see that it too comes to naught. And I also warn you that there are those with the power to stand against you. You have declared yourself a god, but you are nothing but a pest and will be treated accordingly." Tyne had disentangled himself from the various straps and buckles, drawing his sword as he stumbled towards the irksome youth.

The boy did not seem the least afraid and flung himself joyfully from the cliff as he had contemplated doing once before. Tyne ran to the edge and watched the great silver dragon wing away with a merry and triumphant bellow. He snarled to himself and began looking for a way to descend.

The dragon hovered over the sandy bar where he had first wakened again in the mortal sphere, vanished, and the boy ran to where the others stood amidst the carnage of battle. The foul feeling fiends of Tyne had all been dispatched; two of the Whiteguard had been injured in the fighting but Garren's attentions soon had them fully mended. They turned to face the beaming Bayard as he ran to them and enthusiastically told his tale. They had a merry laugh but quickly set about breaking camp and returning to the King with their grim tidings lest Tyne find them when he finally found a way off the mountain. Instead, he found only his slain minions and cursed the day he had ever laid eyes on the irksome boy. He smiled to himself, perhaps he should pay a visit to the boy's village and see if he might revenge himself on the lad's kith and kin; if nothing else, at least he could repeat his little dragon experiment.

The three watched unseen from the shadows as Tyne seemed at first furious and then determined in whatever he had decided to do. He hastened eagerly down the path that led towards Bayard's village rather than back towards his former home, and they knew he was intent on revenge, however ill he defined it. The three vanished and immediately Kyan and Bayard reappeared outside the little hamlet, conversing quietly about their course of action; their eyes sparkled with delight as they plotted against the imminent villain. Tyne was not long in coming, apparently able to move faster afoot than a well-bred horse. His visage had changed, the result of his fell sorcery, for few mortal men had the courage to abide in his presence while looking upon his true visage. He could easily destroy the village and its inhabitants outright, but for him to truly enjoy his vengeance, he must rather seek out those that cherished the boy and whom he must no doubt love in return. Once he had located his hapless victims, he would put them to a cruel end and make it known to Bayard how desperately they had suffered for his sake. Tyne's smile as he contemplated his scheme was enough to make mortal men quail.

It was just before the evening meal when Tyne interrupted the bucolic peace of the place; most of the folk were finishing up their chores or exchanging a bit of gossip before they went in to supper. He remembered Aunt Grizelda well and approached her with what he hoped was a charming smile but appeared more a nauseous grimace or perhaps a toothache. She eyed him with a mixture of greed and fear, only her hope of monetary gain overcoming her reluctance to speak with such an ill-feeling man. They exchanged the proper courtesies, as befitted the situation, and Tyne began, "perhaps you do not remember me, Madam?"

An eager light flickered in her eyes as she bobbed another curtsy and said, "nay Lord, I remember you quite well. It was you that took such a charitable interest in my poor nephew."

He smiled grimly at her description of his interest in the boy and continued, "and how is your nephew?"

She shrugged and picked up the basket she had set beside her as his lordship approached, muttering, "he's run off with another adventuring fellow, haven't seen or heard from him since. Not that I don't have enough to do without him underfoot, mind you. For my poor sister's sake, his mother you know, I hope he has found his place in the world, but that family never did prosper so I have my doubts." Tyne studied the dispassionate matron with surprise, wondering if there was anyone in this forsaken village worth avenging himself upon. This wench was the boy's nearest living relation and she could not care less about his welfare and happiness.

She obviously had better things to do than speak with his lordship about her troublesome nephew, so he left her to whatever tasks he had interrupted and spoke to a few more of the less than eager village folk. Most just shrugged indifferently or shook their heads in confusion, one man spat at his feet; it seemed the lad was neither missed nor of the least interest to anyone. So much for his revenge, but at least he could try his spell again. He glanced around the village, hoping to find two persons whose disappearance would not be remarked. There were no more orphans or penniless waifs for him to exploit, but perhaps there was a visitor or two at the inn willing to go 'adventuring' with a great lord.

He entered the cheery common room and glanced around hopefully but saw only a handful of farmers talking about crops and weather over their ale and a young man flirting with the barmaid. He took a seat but the infatuated maid did not notice the new customer. The door opened and a trio of merchants entered, arguing loudly about whether they should leave in the morning or stay another day and try to sell more of their wares. The ruckus brought the serving girl back to the present and she hastily returned to her work as the disgruntled lad snuck sulkily out the back. Tyne ordered whatever the girl suggested and glowered into his ale when it arrived, leaving his meal untouched. The door opened again and Tyne's glower became a conniving sneer; his victims had arrived, late as usual. He motioned for the lads to come join him at his table, commiserating with them about the loneliness and tedium of travel as they eagerly seated themselves.

They were an ebullient pair, happy to oblige such a charming stranger and eager to hear his own tales of the wide world, for it seemed that was their quest: to see the world and find their place in it. They were brothers, the youngest of a large and prosperous family with no chance of inheriting the farm and no likely prospects of acquiring a trade or profession, so they were free to take to the road and discover whither it would bear them. Tyne's avaricious smile deepened, perfect. Soon they had agreed to journey on together as their errands and temperaments were no doubt the same and they must be of vast mutual benefit to one another. Tyne saw that they were adequately fed and tucked comfortably into bed before vanishing into the night about his own errands.

After a hearty breakfast, he led them to the stable, where the horses waited. They climbed awkwardly into the saddles, took up the lead of the packhorse, and followed their jubilant leader out into the growing day. Tyne regaled them with tales of himself as they rode easily along, stopping occasionally to water the horses or partake of a light meal. By nightfall, they had reached a rocky waste at the foot of the mountains that seemed to march off forever into the distance. The ground was littered with fallen stones and gravel, with only here and there bramble and briar struggling to survive in the stony soil. They dismounted and led their horses through the trackless scree and boulders until they came to a broad, open area with only a single, flat-topped stone in its midst.

"Here," said Tyne eagerly, "is adventure indeed." The younger of the boys glanced about sadly, for he remembered this place or rather, the horror of it had haunted him much after his brief visit. Tyne was busy removing ropes and various other items from the packsaddle and did not notice his companions conversing quietly behind him.

The other boy nodded grimly, "so this is where my brother met his doom?" He shook his head sadly, "it certainly looks grim enough for such proceedings."

"Now," said Tyne, having assembled all of his equipment and turning to face his companions, "I think the two of you will be quite intrigued by what is to come." He was silent in disbelief, dropping his carefully arranged paraphernalia, then sputtered, "you?!"

Kyan grinned at his brother's incredulity and waited for his eruption when he recognized Bayard. Tyne's reaction was well worth the wait, his wrath was quite splendid to behold. A cloud of sheer terror gathered itself around the furious Tyne; the horses shrieked in fear before breaking loose and galloping away. Tyne said malevolently, "unlike those foolish beasts, you will not escape so easily!"

The pair exchanged a vastly amused look; Kyan grinned foolishly, as he answered, "and just how do you come to that conclusion?"

Tyne snarled at his inability to terrify these annoying wretches and finally growled, "I am the most powerful being on earth!"

Bayard shrugged, "perhaps, but we are servants of the Most Powerful Being on the earth, beyond, or before it. Compared to Him, you are just pathetic."

Tyne sighed heavily, not having anticipated anyone to oppose his rise to ultimate power, but in finding such foes he was rather dismayed to discover them to be idiots rather than worthy opponents. He sneered at Kyan, "you always were a fool to believe as you did. Now look at you, a pathetic ghost! Cursed to walk the world and never rest, while your friend here is nothing more than a gigantic lizard." He frowned, "how is it you have both managed to thwart my spells?"

The so-called lizard grinned, "have you not been listening? It was not our doing, but the Master's."

Tyne smiled sardonically, "you honestly believe those old myths?"

Kyan shook his head in amusement, "those old 'myths' were true enough to thwart your best efforts." His face grew cold and grim as he drew his sword, "and so they shall continue to do until your vile master and all his servants are overthrown and evil is conquered forever!"

Tyne had his own sword out and snarled, "I have no master but myself!"

Kyan grated, as their swords met, "from whence does your power come? It is not a mere byproduct of luck or natural sources."

Tyne shrieked like the wind of a howling gale through the chimney of a forsaken house, as he fell upon Kyan with all his might. Tyne's blade found Kyan's heart and the boy vanished like fading moonlight as Tyne turned triumphantly to face Bayard, who waited with his own sword in hand. His wrath spent and giddy with victory, Tyne's technique was sloppy and Bayard managed to drive home his blade, dropping it in surprise, never having used such a weapon before. Tyne's face was a study in pain and astonishment the moment before he fell to ash, that was swiftly borne away on a sudden gust of wind. Bayard sheepishly picked up his discarded blade, smiling at his own surprise before vanishing himself. He reappeared in a dungeon, the smile completely gone from his countenance, for none could smile here.

"It worked!" said the astonished prisoner in wonder.

Bayard could not help but smile at his astonishment, "you did not think it would?"

Kipril tried a smile of his own, if a rueful specimen, "it was easy enough to believe that strange night, what with the whole world going mad! But when I returned to the King and everything seemed so normal and mundane, it all seemed like a wild story out of ancient days."

"Well," mused Bayard, "it is a wild story out of the End of Days! Such as others might one day think as strange as you think those out of ancient times. Now what are you doing in here?"

The man shook his head grimly, "I returned to tell the King all that had happened, but either he didn't believe me or he was crushed by his natal grief, for he immediately demanded that I be placed under arrest until he could get to the bottom of the matter. I don't know what he thinks of my tales but I am slated to die on the morrow."

"We'd best consult your commanding officer, my friend," replied Bayard, "at least if you are still intent on fulfilling your vows?"

"Certainly," sighed the former captain heavily, "there's nothing for me here, though I'm still loyal to the King, even if he thinks me a traitor." Bayard nodded, and with a glowing hand, summoned Kyan.

The warrior glanced around the miserable cell and said, "well this is truly a wretched end, my friend!" Kipril repeated his tale and Kyan nodded grimly, "would you die on the morrow and see what adventures await you thereafter or would you have us spring you from jail that you might become an outlaw and a vigilante, at least as your former lord will see matters?"

"I have but one Lord now, sir," said Kipril heavily, "and I'd like to give all men a chance to know Him as I do."

"We'd best rescue you then," grinned Bayard, "you and Kyan can go round up your faithful men and disappear quietly from the realm while I stay here and pretend nothing strange is afoot." At the man's baffled stare, Bayard donned his likeness and grinned brightly back from his own face.

The man shook his head in wonder, but frowned slightly, "I can't let you die in my stead!"

Kyan laughed like spring in the morning, "you can't technically kill a man beyond death my friend, but the charade is necessary to maintain appearances for your sake as well as the peace of the Kingdom." He offered the man his hand, both saluted his twin, before they vanished in a brilliant flash.

So it was the world prepared itself for the final battle of light versus darkness, good versus evil, but the end had been written long before the first morning of the world, and the plot wasn't going to change just because the Great Enemy decided to throw a fit. All men were given the chance to hear the old, old tale that they might save themselves from utter night, though the world itself was doomed. And as a final darkness settled forever over the scattered hills, there arose a Dawn that would never fade or faulter, and joyously did all the children of the Light run to greet it, whereas all those who chose against it or chose not to choose, wailed in despair and tried to hide themselves in the shadows, but as the Morning Star rose triumphant, even the shadows themselves were swallowed up by glorious light. Scrubbed clean of death and sin and sorrow, as if it had never been, then could a new morning begin, one far brighter than anyone could ever imagine and one whose glory would never fade or tarnish, but would only grow better and brighter through all the long ages of eternity.

Errand Riders

Corbin yawned, trying to keep awake as the Captain restlessly paced before the gathered Errand Riders of Itharia, who had been wakened from their sleep in the small hours of the morning. Said he, "the King has just given a most vital message into my keeping and it must reach the King of Almaria as soon as possible or war will be the result. Who will go?" They stared at him in stunned silence. Who would go? It was the middle of the night, the middle of winter, and Almaria lay on the far side of the Forsaken Wood, who would go indeed! The Captain ceased his pacing and stared at his young riders, "I know what I ask is likely suicidal but we must try. I will send a man the long way round but it will take him a week to get there and that will be too late. Who will go?" The boys exchanged a terrified look, knowing well the legends and fell tales that shrouded the Forsaken Wood in mystery and danger, but they must ride straight through to complete their errand. Yet if they stayed worse might befall them and all they held dear.

With a last uneasy glance at his comrades, Corbin stepped forward and said, "I will go Sir." The Captain smiled gratefully, handed the boy the sealed letter, and heartily wished him speed and luck upon the way.

Then he called Karly to him, "I am sending you the long way round lad, just in case." The boy saluted and rushed off with a second copy of the letter to prepare for his own journey. The others returned to their beds but sleep did not come again that night.

Hastily the boys saddled their horses and packed their supplies. Alone in the stables, Karly asked of Corbin, "why are you doing it?"

Corbin continued his preparations but answered his friend, "doing what?"

Karly snorted, "committing suicide!"

Corbin said quietly, "would you prefer a war? Someone needs to go and it might as well be me. I am an orphan with no one to care if something should happen, and I owe much to the Captain and the Riders for taking me in and giving me a livelihood when I very well might have starved or frozen to death else."

Karly sighed heavily, "there are more who would care than you might imagine, good luck my friend."

Corbin smiled as he pulled himself into his saddle, and said as he vanished into the night, "thank you!" And then he was gone. Karly shook his head grimly, mounted his own horse, and followed his friend into the night, wondering if he would ever see Corbin again.

If it was to be his last ride, it was an enchanting night to die. The moon was bright overhead and cast strange bluish shadows on the new snow. The naked trees were black against the sky and here and there a bright star kept silent vigil, like a diamond set amongst their gently waving branches. Corbin pushed his horse as hard as he dared in the dark, though the moon on the snow gave more light than he had anticipated. Their outpost was on the verge of the legendary forest and the border of Almaria, but few were those bold or foolish enough to brave that strange wood, thus did all trade, travel, and communication go far around the ancient wood and take far longer than it otherwise might. Itharia and Almaria were sometimes uneasy friends and at other time bitter foes, though never had open war raged between them, but the two current Monarchs were trying to arrange a marriage between their children and the negotiations were not going well, thus tensions were heightened and war loomed. But the missive carried by Corbin and Karly would hopefully finalize the arrangements and avert disaster.

The King of Almaria was determined to unite the countries by marriage or conquest; he no longer cared which. The King of Itharia preferred the former and had finally convinced his daughter on that point and thus was he prepared to solemnize the union and thereby avert war. He only hoped his counterpart in Almaria could hold his temper long enough to receive the message, for if he struck out in wrath, there might be no way to rectify the matter save by retribution which would inevitably mean war. With these thoughts in mind, Corbin pushed on as hard as he could, trying not to think about the forest about him as anything other than a collection of trees.

It was an exhilarating ride. The cold and moonlight added something to the poetry of the endeavor, as did the urgency of the quest and the mystery of the Wood. He felt himself very nearly a legend and for a moment smiled in sheer wonder, but only for a moment, for the Wood's reputation was not mere story. The horse was the first to notice something was amiss. He stopped suddenly, glanced about nervously, flicked his ears this way and that, as his skin and tail twitched in agitation. He caught the scent even as the haunting wail met Corbin's ears. The gelding screamed and bolted madly into the night, no longer were they in a story but dashing headlong into a nightmare.

Corbin let the beast have his head and desperately tried to hang on, but a low branch defeated his efforts and left him senseless on the ground. He lay unmoving but awareness soon returned. His heart pounded in his ears, as he lay waiting for whatever lurked in the night to approach. Above his galloping heart he heard the slow, steady fall of many feet crunching the snow that carpeted the forest floor and saw the red glimmer of many eyes in the moonlight. The pack surrounded him and a haunting howl, fit to freeze a beating heart, went up from each throat. Wolves would have been bad enough, but at least it would have been a natural death. These were thinking creatures, a terrible race of werewolves that hunted men as mortal wolves pursued deer. They whined, growled, and fretted in their own hideous tongue as they argued over the boy's fate.

Finally the pack leader snarled a command, sending half the pack after the terrified horse while the rest remained to torment the boy. Those that wanted meat could eat horse flesh while the rest might amuse themselves with this fallen mortal wretch. Another snarled command sent the remaining creatures whining and yipping in eagerness as they set upon the boy. They bit, tore, and ravaged but did not mortally wound the helpless boy. The leader barked sharply and the pack withdrew from their terrible play, leaving the boy torn and bleeding, wishing they had simply finished him. Snarled the leader in the human tongue, "you have a choice boy. You can become one of us or you can die of your wounds. A painful death or a brilliant future, the choice is yours."

Corbin groaned, his mind racing and his heart near to bursting. He did not wish to die but could he live as such an accursed creature? He knew to his very soul that if he agreed to their infernal bargain, he would survive but it would be a living death, cut off from all chance of hope, love, joy, and peace. He had enough of Theology to know that such a bargain would utterly doom his soul though it might for a time spare his life. "No," came his gasp of an answer.

"Very well," snarled the leader, as he yipped and the pack made ready to set to again, but a sudden terror seized them as a light too bright to look upon filled the little glade, driving the fiends from their victim.

The light dimmed to the gentle radiance of moonlight, revealing a unicorn, as the wails and yelps of the routed wolves diminished with distance. The graceful creature looked down with deep pity upon the ravaged child, wondering what could be done for the suffering creature. He was forbidden from taking innocent life, so he could not put the poor wretch out of his misery. He might be able to heal the boy, but only at great cost to them both. The unicorn knelt beside the boy and said quietly, "you are dying."

The boy groaned a whisper, "I must complete my errand...I cannot die yet."

The unicorn shook his head, "there is a way, but the cost will be great to us both."

The boy gasped, "I must complete my task, I will endure the price." Concern filled his eyes, "but I cannot ask it of you."

The unicorn stood and said resignedly, "you need not ask it; I will pay it willingly."

Corbin groaned, "no!"

But it was too late, for the creature had spoken the final words. He collapsed and the light vanished completely; the boy felt a sword rip through his own heart and a numbing cold overwhelmed him. A moment later consciousness and warmth returned; he was able to sit up and look around. The rosy light of dawn was again invading the world and it revealed the boy fully healed with a dark heap lying motionless beside him.

Shakily Corbin stood and stared down in horror at what had befallen the greathearted beast. The creature groaned suddenly, quivered from head to tail, and lunged to his feet; he was nothing more than a common horse. "You said your task was vital?" asked the horse of the stymied boy.

Corbin nodded, "I bear a letter for the King of Almaria that must be delivered with all speed lest war be declared on Itharia, thus my foolish shortcut through the Woods."

The horse blew out his nostrils thoughtfully, "well worth the cost then, up you go. I shall bear you thither faster than any mortal nag."

The boy hesitated, unsure how to even begin expressing his thanks to the wondrous creature, but thought better of doing it just now and delaying his dire mission any longer. He threw himself onto the horse's back, the creature quickly outpaced even the fastest mortal horse and he was not even pressing himself. "Now lad," said the horse, as they ran on, "you seemed rather awkward there for a moment, but there is no use dithering about on an errand for which we both gave our lives when we can as easily discuss it on the way rather than standing about and wasting time. First of all, do not thank me, your King and people might well thank me for stopping imminent war, but you do not yet know the full cost to either of us and we are each of us just doing our duty. You have obviously noticed a cost to myself but there is much yet to learn about the predicament in which we now find ourselves, but first we will complete your errand."

The boy did not know whether to smile or cry so contented himself with both, finally he said, "I will thank you, whatever the circumstances that brought it about and those we still must face, you did not have to sacrifice yourself on my behalf or for the sake of my countrymen."

The horse sniffed a bit, muttering something about cold air and exercise, but the boy thought he saw the sparkle of unshed tears in the creature's eyes. At last, said the horse with some surprise, "my sacrifice on your behalf? What of that which the Master has accomplished for all mankind? Now there is sacrifice indeed!"

The boy smiled ruefully, "I know and believe the old stories, but somehow this seems far more personal."

The horse snorted in amusement, "you mean because I personally saved your life? What about He who personally gave His life to save your soul? Far more important I think!"

The boy nodded, "I had just never thought about it in such a way. It was always just a story, something that happened way back in the deeps of time. Something we have always taken for granted. But it should take my breath away with the sheer wonder of it!"

The horse snorted, "that it should, it is quite a story and I forget the tendencies of mortal men to take for granted what should be the most wonderful and amazing events in history, as well as in their personal lives."

The boy grinned from ear to ear, "well, I am quite grateful and acutely astounded by what has been done on my behalf, wretch that I am."

The horse smiled, "and for that I am quite thankful."

Hastening on, they reached the capital of Almaria by evening, well before the boy would have made it even if the journey had gone perfectly, but well that he had, for the King was in a very foul mood and on the brink of a rash decision that would be rued by many. Barely in time to prevent disaster, the boy presented himself to the King and personally handed him the sealed letter. Rather annoyed to be disturbed in the midst of his Royal ire, the King took the missive and began to read, his mood brightening exponentially as the words sunk in. He turned to the boy and said very solemnly, "I have been quite rash, yet thankfully nothing regrettable has yet been accomplished. Your King and his daughter write what I most needed to hear and thus are we all spared from disaster. You must have ridden like a madman, not to mention through that awful forest, to get here as quickly as you did."

The boy nodded, "yes Majesty, it was a harrowing journey and I have not yet ascertained the cost of it to myself and others, but it seems it was necessary and worth whatever price." The boy bowed and asked if he might be excused.

The King stared at the boy in amazement, "you are leaving? You must be exhausted and famished to say the least. Your King also requires a reply and I thought to send it back with you. Your efforts require at least a night's repose if not a ballad in your honor."

The boy shook his head sadly, "I would very much wish to stay and partake of your hospitality Sire, but I am duty bound to return quickly after my errand is accomplished. I regret that I cannot carry your reply, for I am not going immediately back to Itharia, as duty calls me elsewhere, but in a few days another of our Riders should appear on your doorstep with a second copy of the letter you just read. He will gladly bear your tidings to our King. Above all else, do not send anyone into that Forsaken Wood, for none may pass through unscathed, if they come out at all."

The King asked quite in awe, "and what was the price of your own passage?"

The boy shivered, "it was very nearly death but I owe everything to another and now we must go discover what the cost shall be to us both." He bowed deeply and said, "I wish you and yours all the best in all that is to come, Highness. Do not hold it against my Lord that I must leave in haste, for it is an ordeal of my own making."

The King felt as if he was saying farewell to a man bound for the gallows and could make no suitable reply but to give the proper sign of dismissal and whisper as the boy retreated, "may the Master go with you lad, to whatever end." Thus did he vanish from the habitations of mortal men and return to the Forsaken Wood to pay the price required, whatever it be.

The horse had said to deliver his letter and then return in all haste. The boy complied and they were off again with all speed. The world darkened about them but it seemed the horse had no difficulty in navigating even in the depths of night. "What now?" asked the boy as they hastened on.

The horse shook his head grimly, "that depends upon the Elders of the Forest. It is a complicated matter, this thing that I have done. But needless to say, life as you once knew it is behind you."

The boy nodded thoughtfully, "it should have ended last night. My task was accomplished and two nations may continue to dwell in peace for a time, I am content. Can you not simply take back your gift and allow the natural course of things to play out?"

The horse eyed him over his shoulder, "if only it was that simple, but even if it was, I do not wish to recant that which I have given."

"What sort of people are these Elders?" asked the boy curiously.

The horse shook his head, "each is a representative of one of the races that inhabit the Wood, save those of a truly evil disposition like those Werewolves. Most are indifferent to men, at least as long as they stay out of the Wood, but some are truly hostile. Some are faithful to the Master, but there are a few who vehemently deny Him and His laws while the rest simply ignore such matters. I do not know if our case will merit a full hearing by the Council or if only a handful will be assigned to hear us."

Said the boy, "what are the potential consequences?"

The horse said quietly, "most do not look favorably on those of us willing to help mortal men, especially trespassers. I may be punished for aiding you, besides what it has already cost me. Your fate may be far worse, depending upon how they see the circumstances but some will see it as a case of murder, though I willingly did what I thought right at the time and would do so again without hesitation."

"What about the Wolves and their intentions?" said the boy, aghast.

The horse shook his head, "they are a law unto themselves. If they attack any of the other denizens of the Wood they will be held accountable, but you are a trespasser and thus deserve whatever fate might befall you."

The boy said quietly, "can I not bear whatever penalty they might add to what you have already suffered or somehow reverse your current state?"

The horse shook his head, "nay lad, that would require stronger magic than that which the Elders already possess. The Master Himself would have to intercede." The boy began to weep, ashamed of what he had cost the noble creature and horrified that worse might be added to it. The horse whinnied loudly, "easy lad, I made my choice as did you yours. We will face it together." The boy sighed heavily, but a weak smile graced his lips as they ran on, knowing at least that he was not alone.

The boy saw very little of anything as they returned to the Wood, for it was nearly pitch dark and much was hidden from his mortal gaze besides. He had the faint impression of altering patterns of light and dark, elegant architecture interspersed with the wildest country he had ever beheld. He must have dozed for a time, for he woke with a start to discover they were no longer moving. "We are here lad," whispered the horse, "keep silent until the Elders ask you a direct question. Any outburst unasked for will not help our case."

The boy saw about him architecture too strange and wonderful to be described, and glimpsed here and there any number of creatures of shapes and sizes so varied no mortal could even begin to imagine. The predominant race represented seemed to be some sort of Elvish folk, they looked to be tall, lithe men but Corbin felt them to be less akin to humanity than even the former unicorn. A short, dwarvish creature was speaking to the horse in a strange but beautiful tongue and after several gasps, frowns, and quiet grumblings, the creature waddled off to make inquiries on their behalf. He returned almost immediately and implied that they should follow. He led them into a small room and shut the door behind him. The very walls were luminescent, filling the room with a light reminiscent of twilight. The horse said in amusement, "he was not impressed with our situation but it seems several of the Elders are anxious to hear our case immediately. Thankfully it will be a small meeting rather than the whole Council. Now it remains to be seen who will hear our case and thus determine our fate."

The door opened before Corbin could reply and in walked three creatures of varied type: a unicorn, a griffin, and one of the Elvish creatures. Corbin and the horse bowed deeply to these esteemed individuals as they grimly studied the pair before them. The illumination increased to that of a summer morning in a leafy wood as the Elders seated themselves. The griffin said something in that musical tongue but the unicorn interrupted and said, "I beg your pardon my friend, but let us use the mortal tongue so that all present here may understand."

The griffin snarled but said, "as you wish it, I shall use the heathen tongue if I must. Please tell us exactly what happened?" Corbin looked to the horse, who shook his head that the boy was to remain silent, as he turned to the three Elders and gave a full account of all that had come to pass. The griffin waited until the tale had been told and then spitted the boy with an accusatory stare, "what boy, were you thinking that you thought to somehow spare your own life at such cost to another?"

The boy bowed deeply and said, "as my esteemed companion has just told you, Sir, I begged him not to do such a thing. It was his choice, not mine."

The unicorn spoke, "the boy speaks truly when he says such a gift cannot be bestowed unwillingly. But the question is what now is to be done? While my comrade acted with every good intention, the end result now is that there is one less unicorn in the world which some might view as murder."

The griffin smiled viciously, "some might see it so indeed."

The elf said solemnly, "if that is your view, I think suicide would be a better definition as he chose his own fate." The unicorn bowed his head in acquiescence but the griffin snarled. Continued the elf, "but rather I see it as one soul having mercy upon another and view it as a great gift rather than as a crime."

The unicorn concurred, "such is the gifting of our race. I am not happy in what he has done, but it was his gift to bestow as he would."

The griffin snarled, "but what is to be done? Are they not to be punished?"

"Punished for what?" asked the elf, "The unicorn has done nothing wrong, indeed he has shown his true character in acting as he did. The boy perhaps is guilty of trespassing but I think he suffered enough at the hands, or rather the teeth, of the Werewolves."

The unicorn said solemnly, "I concur, but I do not think the boy can be allowed to return to his people after all that has happened."

The griffin said eagerly, "give him back to the wolves." The other Elders stared at him in horror but he did not seem to notice.

Against the horse's counsel, the boy went to his knees and said, "please, I will do anything or pay any price if it will somehow restore what my friend has lost." The Elders seemed surprised at this outburst, but only the griffin took offense. The unicorn seemed saddened and the elf smiled slightly.

The unicorn shook his head, "there is no way to get back what was lost."

The elf's smile deepened, "no way that we know of, but there are greater powers in this world and beyond it. If such is your desire and you are willing to do whatever might be necessary, then I will commend you to the Master Himself. There is no other way and even He might say no."

The horse shook his head, "I will not take back what I have given!"

"No," said the unicorn, "but perhaps there is a greater plan and purpose in all of this. You at least must Ask."

The griffin snarled, "this then is all that is to come of it?"

The elf said in surprise, "the Heart of the Wood is a dangerous place for mortals, especially the impious. There above all else will they find judgment, if it is due." The griffin ruffled his wings in discontent but said nothing further. The Elders stood and the elf said as they withdrew, "go then to the Heart of the Wood and seek your answers. If you return, please inform us of the verdict."

They withdrew and the horse said in awe, "the Heart of the Wood! Neither of us may return but it will be the ultimate adventure, especially for a mortal man."

The boy said, "I do not understand."

The horse said in quiet eagerness, "it is a window into Eternity, a place one might find the Master Himself. Nothing to be done lightly, but thence must we go."

The dwarf returned and motioned for them to again follow him down a long, winding corridor and out what might be the backdoor of the complex. He shut and locked the door behind them and once it was closed, they could not make out where it had been. They exchanged a puzzled look, the boy remounted the horse, and they trotted off towards the Heart of the Wood. Of course there was truly no geographic location, for it was not located in any particular part of this world but appeared when and where it was needed. The pair had not traveled further than a bowshot before the world was suddenly blotted out by blinding light. They could see nothing but one another and a terrible, eye-searing, but not yet lethal, radiance about them. They did not so much hear a voice as feel it in their very souls, a voice that might well have shattered their bones had it a wish to do so, but it was not such a voice but the Voice that called Everything into being, that spoke gently to the weak, and firmly warned the erring.

"What is it you would have of Me, children?" came the gentle query, "Do you truly desire that which you seek? Would you give back the gift that was given? Undo the sacrifice that was made?" The boy for a moment became the torn and dying creature he once had been; the horse was again a unicorn. There came a gasp of horror from each afflicted soul and then the radiance overwhelmed them utterly, for no mortal being can look upon Him in His full glory and live. Their physical selves died instantly, sloughed and thrown aside like soiled clothes.

What passed between those naked souls and their Master then, no mortal writing can tell or mind comprehend, but at last they Knew as they had always been Known. Would they now pass out of Time and Space into what lies beyond it, the True Reality of which this world is a mere echo? Or would they go back and accomplish a much-needed task?

They could not, would not refuse anything asked by He who wrought the stars, of course they would return and with much eagerness to fulfill their commission, for nothing could give them more pleasure than that which pleased Him. They awoke beneath a great redbud tree, blooming as if it was already Spring, and so it ever would until the end of Time. They both recognized the place where their adventures had begun and now they must set out in earnest, for they were to save the Wood from itself. Their Master was far from pleased with the antipathy with which the woodfolk treated mortal men while they tolerated Werewolves and other such abominations in their midst. It must stop or judgment would come upon them, swift and sure. The pair awoke again in the mortal world with quite a surprise. The former unicorn, Erian by name, gasped to find himself guised as a man while Corbin found himself in form like a unicorn. They stared at one another in perplexity, then a sudden thought occurred to them both, they exchanged an eager smile, thought for a moment, and suddenly swapped one form for the other.

With a laugh of delight, they found they could take either form at will and for a few minutes entertained themselves thus. Finally, accustomed to their new proclivities, they turned one to the other, said Corbin, "we have much to do and little time to accomplish what we must, ere things grow dark for your folk."

Erian shook his head, "things have been dark and growing darker for many a year, but at last there is a chance of hope! Come, we must bring the dawn to my people that they might know there is escape from the deepening night, lest it consume them utterly."

"Hah!" laughed a scornful voice, "What pathetic jabbering is this? Come lads, let us make an end of their foolish babble."

Both were in their human forms, they exchanged a grim smile as they unsheathed their swords to face off with the Werewolves once more. The creatures would not, in general, bother a unicorn as the fairyfolk were likely to seek vengeance on such an act, but a pair of wandering men was another matter entirely. The pack was still smarting after their rout by the unicorn and were thirsting after some sort of mischief to restore their pride. Usually, a man would have no chance against a single werewolf let alone the whole pack, but these were no ordinary men, for they could not die or even take injury from such a foe. It was a slaughter and an utter shock to the two beasts that managed to survive and slink off in terror to lick their wounds and plot their revenge. The victorious pair exchanged an excited smile when their work was finished, assumed their unicorn forms, and galloped into the depths of the forest, for there was yet much to do.

After the hearing, the griffin exited the hall by another door and waited impatiently for the prisoners to emerge. He watched them come out and saw them make their way a bit deeper into the forest, when suddenly a bright light consumed them. The creature rubbed its aching eyes and then stared about in astonishment, seeking some sign of their fate. He hurried to the place where they had been and smiled in contempt, finding there the mortal remains of both a unicorn and a mutilated boy. Justice indeed! Fools, they had gotten what they deserved. He was about to leave the carrion to itself and attend to other matters, when a harsh squawk caught his ears and called his attention overhead to where a great raven perched on a dead branch. Quoth the raven, "are you just going to let this opportunity go to waste?" The griffin suddenly shuddered from head to toe, realizing who this creature was and what it implied. The bird laughed harshly, "terror is an excellent beginning but the end must be power! Now what is your answer?"

The griffin shuddered again but this time in anticipation, as he turned his eyes upon the dead unicorn. It was forbidden, but what was that to him? He could become something more terrible, more awful than anyone could imagine and there was nothing that could stop him! He was already a heretic, why not enjoy and utilize his apostasy to its fullest? He set to the carcass, tearing great chunks of flesh from the dead unicorn and swallowing them with relish, staining his pristine feathers with silver blood and feeling a growing power within himself. His eyes roiled blood red as his feathers and ruddy fur darkened to deepest black. Sated, he shrieked like a fiend from the Abyss and took wing to see what havoc he could wreak.

The evil griffin hovered above the forest, hoping for some unwary creature to pass below that he might exercise the vile power that now coursed in his veins. A flash of white and silver could only mean a unicorn! He hated the soft-hearted, gentle creatures with every part of his being and a more perfect victim he could not imagine. He tucked his wings and dove, shrieking as he went, ready to rend the hapless creature limb from limb. The unicorn was waiting for him, and he was not alone, for a man stood beside him. He pounced upon the unicorn's back and tore with claws and beak while the unicorn bucked and lashed out with his teeth, trying to dislodge this fell servant of evil. The griffin tore at the creature's neck with his gaping beak in an effort to reach the great vein that coursed therein and thus kill his foe. He struck true, but instead of a gush of blood and collapse, the unicorn screamed and vanished in a flash of light.

The flummoxed creature did not have time to turn on the man, for Corbin's sword had already buried itself in the monster's heart. The griffin collapsed, gasping for air and moaning pitiably, wondering how a mere child of men could strike him dead. The ruckus brought a pair of centaurs, official Guardsmen of the Council Chambers, at the gallop. They saw only the boy with his gory sword and the dying griffin, whom they recognized immediately as an ill-tempered Elder. The griffin saw his chance for revenge and said, "murder, murder! Oh, the treachery of men!" He slumped to the side and moved no more. One of the guards took hold of the unresisting boy while the other took up the Elder's mortal remains; they turned and galloped back to the Council Hall in great agitation.

Within the Council Chambers, tempers were afire and voices were raised in a discordant chorus of outrage. Not only had a major case been heard by only three members of the Council, but so too had they let the offenders go free only to have one of them murder an Elder. Besides this outrage, the leader of the Werewolves had come to protest the outright slaughter of his people by this same insolent villain. To add further fuel to the fire, a black cowled mage of one of the Elvish races declared that he had found the remains of a murdered and mutilated unicorn at the Council's own backdoor, and to no one's surprise, the victim was soon identified as the creature that had so controversially saved the life of the assumed assassin. The boy stood in the midst of the agitated Council between the two stony centaurs, quite amazed at the accusations against himself. The unicorn on the Council finally called for silence and order, the bloodthirsty mob finally acquiesced, for it was the only way the matter would be resolved.

Said the unicorn, "things look very grim indeed, especially when we allow a Werewolf and a Dark Mage into our Council Chambers as witnesses and seeming allies, but their grievances are terrible, if true, thus shall we hear them in their turn." The named parties snarled at this part of the speech but held their tongues, as the Elder continued, "first let me address those of you grieved that three of us heard the now infamous case without the rest of the Council present and seemingly let the offenders go."

He paused while the balance of the Council voiced their ire and then continued, "it was thought a private matter, involving a gift specific to unicorns, and thus we did not bother the entire Council with such a trifling case, but alas it did not end as it should have. We did not release the creatures but rather sent them into the Heart of the Forest, whence we deemed they would find true justice, whatever it might be in their peculiar circumstances. What happened after I cannot say, but alas it seems that betrayal and murder were the result. The Dark Mage has presented as evidence the mutilated body of the unicorn that gave his immortality to save the life of the accused. When the pair was released from our custody, said unicorn was still a horse and seemed likely to remain so for the rest of his days, barring some divine intervention, thus they must have gone to the Heart of the Forest and the creature was thus restored to himself, but how he came to die and the boy escape, if he was thus guilty, I cannot begin to explain." He turned his eyes to Corbin but the boy shook his head, having no explanation himself.

Continued the Elder, "the boy will not or cannot explain what has happened either, so for the moment we must continue on with our story. What is your complaint, vile wolf?"

The Werewolf snarled and said, "my entire pack was annihilated by this upstart youth and another child of men."

The Elder looked surprised, "is this not the same youth your pack attempted to kill just a few days ago?"

The wolf growled, "we would have too and none of this would have happened if your precious unicorn had minded his own business." There were some murmurs that seemed to agree with the sense of this last statement, which sent a shiver up Corbin's spine.

The Elder frowned, "it is rare that a man or even several men can kill one of your kind, how is it that two seeming boys can destroy an entire pack?"

The wolf shivered, "I do not know but it was terrible!"

The Elder asked, "where then is the other man?"

The wolf growled, "I was interested in my own survival not in keeping track of every genocidal lunatic who passes through the Wood."

The Elder nodded grimly, "perhaps that is how the boy accomplished so much mischief in so short a time, he had outside help!" He turned to the boy, "where is your companion?" The boy could only shake his head that he did not know. The Elder sighed, "very well, you shall suffer the consequences alone until we catch this other perpetrator. Now what of the murdered Elder?"

The ranking centaur bowed to the Elder and said, "Sir, we heard a terrible noise and hurried to investigate. What we found was horrible. The Elder was dying, pierced with a sword and the boy stood over him, still holding the bloody blade."

"Interesting," said the unicorn in some perplexity, "a griffin is even harder to kill than a werewolf, at least for a mortal man. How has he accomplished such mayhem and escaped unscathed? Have you anything to say for yourself, boy?" asked the Elder grimly, "Things look very bleak for you unless you can come up with some very convincing evidence."

The boy bowed to the Elder, at least as much as the guards holding him would allow, as he said, "Elder, things do indeed look grim, but it is not on my behalf that I speak. Judgment looms over the entire Wood and will come surely and swiftly upon you if things are not quickly put to rights. Mortal men are treated as sheep by many of the denizens of this forest when they are as much beloved by the Master as any of you; they are not sheep to be sold or slaughtered upon a whim, but due as much respect and justice as any thinking creature. You tolerate vile and evil creatures in your midst when your own laws declare they must not dwell with you."

Scoffed the Mage, "is this why you yourself have already murdered so many of the Forestfolk? You speak of reverencing life yet are a very servant of death!"

Corbin drew himself up and replied, "you know far more of such matters than I, having sold your soul for dark power and thus entering a living death!"

"Hah!" spat the Dark Mage as the Elder called for order, saying to both, "You will speak only to the Council and only when asked."

Corbin bowed his head and said, "I beg your pardon Elder." The Mage only laughed.

The Elder looked surprised at the boy's politeness and said quietly, "have you more to say in your own defense?"

The boy said solemnly, "I can explain some of what has happened, but am as perplexed as any of you as to the rest. First you must know that I know nothing of this murdered unicorn, but I can guess a little as to how the remains were disfigured. What comes of a creature that consumes the flesh of a murdered unicorn?"

The Elder shuddered, "it is expressly forbidden to all immortal creatures to consume such flesh, but legend holds that anyone doing so loses their soul but gains terrible power. Is this how you have come to possess the skill to vanquish what no mere man should be able to kill?"

The boy shook his head, "I fear it was rather the griffin that ingested unicorn flesh. I do not deny killing the creature, but when he attacked, he was twice his normal size, dead black, and had eyes like flame. He resumed his normal appearance once fatally struck."

The Elder shuddered and the rest of the Council leapt from their seats and demanded immediate justice for the boy's admitted guilt. The unicorn called them back to order and stared at the boy, "you say he attacked? Then you struck only in self-defense?"

The boy nodded, "as was the case with the Werewolves."

The Elder turned grim eyes on the Werewolf King, "you failed to mention this one small detail." The wolf barred his teeth and took a step back, as if at bay.

The Dark Mage queried, "even if it was in self-defense, how is it he overcame such foes? Who killed the unicorn? What of his proclamations of doom and judgment? Who is he to judge?"

The Elder could make no reply, for the Council was again in uproar as the door burst open and in walked a unicorn, dragging a human corpse into the middle of the Council's proceedings. He dropped the mutilated remains next to the dead unicorn and exchanged a smile with Corbin, before eyeing the unicorn Elder stonily, "I would like to present another piece of evidence, one your friendly Mage has failed to apprise you of. I found this lying next to where the Mage found the dead unicorn. Do you recognize him?"

He tossed his head and whinnied, "do you know me as well?" The Elder shook his head in amazement and looked from the dead creatures to the living pair before him, not believing what he saw. The Dark Mage snarled and conjured a ball of dark fire, aiming it at the distracted Elder.

Corbin pulled away from his guards as easily as water flows out of a clenched fist, diving between the Elder and the Mage, he was utterly consumed by the flames. Erian screamed in rage and charged the smirking Mage, burying his horn in the villain's chest. The sorcerer melted into a puddle of black ooze. The Council was silent in amazement; the Werewolf had slunk away in the chaos, knowing his own future would be short if the unicorn saw him. The Elder finally found his voice and called the Chamber to order, turning to the unicorn he demanded, "what is happening? Who or what are you and the boy, that you live even as your bodies litter the floor of the Council Hall?"

Erian reared and pawed the air, "we are messengers Sir, heed well the words of warning the boy spoke to you lest the doom foretold comes upon you all."

The Elder shivered, "what then are we to do?"

Said Erian sternly, "allow men to pass through the Wood unmolested, let there be a road upon which they may travel to and fro without fear. Any who would seek adventure off the road must be dealt with justly and treated as one of your own people would be in like circumstances. Root out the evil things from among you: werewolves, dark magicians, any creature that has made an alliance with the Evil One, all must be driven out of the Wood. Turn and seek the Master that He might heal your land and let it flourish in joy and peace, as once it did before the shadow of death and fear slowly crept over the Wood. Let its name no longer be Forsaken in the tongue of men but rather, as of old, the Fairy Wood, once more."

The Elder's jaw hung open for a moment, he snapped it shut, then said, "if we do not do all this?"

Erian shook his head, "the Wood will be destroyed and all its folk forced to wander the wide world."

The Elder shivered, "have we seen the end of the boy?"

Erian snorted, "no more than that griffin made an end of me. He shall return, as did I, yet fear not, neither of us can harm any but the vile minions of evil. We will hunt down some of the vile creatures that still roam the Forest and see that men may safely tread its paths."

The Elder sighed, "will we not be overrun with pioneers and squatters?"

Erian shook his head, "this is a sovereign land as much as any of the countries of men. You must let them pass through in peace but those who break your laws or invade without your leave must be dealt with as any King deals with such matters within his own bounds."

The Elder stared at the carrion littering his Council Chamber, "what of your mortal remains?"

Erian said quietly, "see that they are properly buried."

The Elder shivered, "or you will come back to haunt us?"

Erian snorted his amusement, "no, they will rot."

The Elder actually smiled slightly, "I will see to the arrangements." There was no reply, for Erian had vanished. The Council suddenly broke into chaos as everyone tried to speak at once.

Erian met Corbin under the redbud tree. The boy shuddered, feeling himself still afire for a moment but smiled when his eyes met those of his friend. "How did it go?" asked the boy.

Erian grinned, "about as well as expected."

Corbin smiled as he imagined exactly how it must have gone, said he, "will they listen?"

Erian nodded, "at least enough of them to delay things for a time. I would not be surprised if a significant minority took it amiss and went into exile somewhere." He glanced around wistfully, "this wood used to be bright and green and warm like a morning in the spring, but now it is all murk and shadows even in the height of summer, but perhaps they will drive the gloom away and renew what was lost?"

"No," said Corbin sadly, "they cannot have Spring again, but perhaps they can achieve a Fall Twilight of gold and crimson with just a hint of a chill in the air."

Erian nodded, "yes, once lost, this world's youth cannot be renewed, but a dignified old age can yet be hoped for at least." "What now?" asked the waning unicorn philosopher, now interested in more practical matters.

Corbin grinned, "we need a road."

Erian frowned slightly, "and how long will it take to build that? I know we have the rest of Time but the Fairyfolk are not that patient, nor is mankind!"

But they had no need to build it, after all, this was a fairy wood! The various burrowing animals and creatures whose trade was digging and handling stone, namely the dwarvish folk, immediately set to work. The trees agreeably moved aside while the way was lined with stones, that a man might not accidentally lose his way. Within a very short time, the path through the Wood came to be; posted here and there along the thoroughfare was a sign urging passersby to remain on the road and that if they strayed into the wood, it would be at their own peril.

Erian eyed Corbin with an amused grin and could only shake his head, "now I suppose we must tell someone that the way is clear?"

Corbin nodded, "and I know exactly the man to tell, but he will be expecting a man aback a horse."

Erian laughed, "what else is new? Off we go."

And in said guise they returned to Almaria, seeking out Karly, who should have reached the King with his copy of the dire message by now. No one remembered the boy from his previous visit, but when he asked if the latest courier from Itharia had arrived, he was informed that he had and asked if they might tell him that one of his former comrades was at the gate. They reluctantly agreed and within a few minutes, Karly was eagerly at the castle gate, demanding that they admit Corbin. The boy was near to bursting with excitement, having heard the dreadful tale from the King and having thought of worse himself in the time since their parting.

Once they were alone, Karly burst out, "I heard you had made it here but that you had to return to that dreadful wood to fulfill some sort of promise?"

Corbin nodded, "my passage cost me dear, but things have worked out quite well as a result, for men may now pass in relative safety through the Wood, assuming they stay upon the road marked out for them."

Karly whistled in astonishment, "this will certainly speed my journey home. The King of Almaria sent his own courier with a message, so the man should get home before we do, even with this woodland shortcut." He frowned, "the servant who brought me your message called you a 'former comrade,' what do you mean by that?"

Corbin said quietly, "I must resign from the Riders, my duty now lies elsewhere. I would appreciate if you would get the word out here and in Itharia that the Forest is now passable, but I must return thence."

A strange look entered Karly's eyes, "why is everyone so obsessed with this Forest of late? Have you been enslaved by the Elves or something?"

Corbin smiled wanly, "not the Elves, but I have taken an official position in the Fairy Wood, as it were."

Karly asked, "doing what?"

Corbin grinned, "I guess I could be called a liaison between mortal men and the fairy folk. What do you mean by saying that everyone seems obsessed with the forest of late?"

Karly shrugged, "it just seems to be a favorite topic with the few people I have had the chance to associate with lately. Obviously carrying the King's message left little time for socializing, but I met a man at one of the inns where I stopped briefly one night and he was determined to come with me! I told him he could meet me here but that I could not take him along. He was obsessing about the Wood as much as you."

Corbin asked, "are you going to meet him?"

Karly grinned hopefully, "actually I was going to meet him at an inn in the city tonight, and I was hoping you might come with me. I get a very weird feeling when I am in the presence of this man, I am not sure I like it or want to spend much time alone with him, yet I am drawn inexorably to him for a reason I cannot explain."

Corbin nodded, "of course I shall accompany you."

Karly smiled, "then we had best leave now, I am already late."

Corbin shook his head in wonder, the boy was chronically late, which was a strange tendency in an Errand Rider, when their main duty was to deliver messages in a timely fashion. Karly grabbed his coat and they were soon in their saddles, riding towards the inn on the edge of the sprawling city. They reached the inn to find Karly's strange companion waiting impatiently at a table towards the back, half shrouded in shadow, for the light of the fire and lanterns did not quite reach that distant corner of the inn. He frowned when he saw that the boy was not alone but kept silent until they had ordered something to drink and seated themselves.

Karly introduced Corbin and had to ask the man what his name was, as he had forgotten, another bad habit for a courier! The man looked mildly irritated though whether at the presence of a stranger, the forgetfulness of his companion, or his late arrival, Corbin did not know. Erik introduced himself and went through the usual greeting rituals but his mind was elsewhere, namely he was perplexed by Karly's companion. Corbin felt something of the same about their new acquaintance; there was more to this man than met the eye. As they finished the requisite introductions, Karly asked bluntly, "who are you and why have you followed me all the way to Almaria?"

Erik smiled enigmatically, glanced suspiciously at Corbin, and said, "do you really want me to explain things in front of him?"

Karly shrugged, "let us just say I trust him far more than you at the moment."

Erik nodded, "caution is wise, but what I have to say may unsettle certain folk."

Karly smiled, "Corbin here has just survived the Forsaken Wood, a topic, as I vaguely remember, which interests you greatly, I do not think he will be easily upset."

At mention of the Wood, the man's curiosity was piqued and he eyed Corbin with more interest, "do you mind telling me what happened there? You did not come away unscathed."

Corbin smiled slightly, "I had quite an adventure, but it is not one I can share with most people, I have not even shared much with Karly. But what is your interest in Karly and the Wood? You are not exactly as you seem either."

Erik sat back in his seat and laughed, "ah, the intrigue! I see now why you brought your friend lad. Very well, if you do not care if he hears what I must say, then so be it." He eyed Corbin with a predatory light, "this is privileged information lad, if it should be repeated to the wrong people, you will not like the consequences."

Corbin snorted a laugh, "I am not going to betray your secrets sir, even if I did, I little fear anything you might think to threaten me with."

Erik smiled in spite of himself, "your friend has nerve. Are you sure?"

Karly shrugged, stretched, and sat back in his chair with a yawn, "Corbin is probably more interested in what you have to say anyway so you might as well get on with it."

Erik hissed, "this pertains only to yourself and it is nothing to take lightly. Who is your father?"

Karly suddenly sat straight up and looked very uneasy, for not even Corbin knew the truth of the matter. Said he quietly, "I tell everyone that he died when I was very young, but I do not know anything about him. My mother will tell me nothing. She never married; her relatives will have nothing to do with us."

Erik nodded, "men have shunned you because of your questionable birth, but I will tell you that there is nothing to be ashamed of."

Karly grew defensive, "of course not, it was not my fault and perhaps even my mother had no say in the matter. I have become a responsible and reliable man, a valuable part of society."

Erik snorted, "you are an Errand Rider at a distant outpost, you never see 'society' and if they knew your history, they would not even speak to you. Tell me boy, are any of your comrades from good and proper families, at least as society sees it?"

He eyed Corbin, who shook his head, "I am an orphan sir and most of our companions are from very poor or questionable backgrounds."

"Exactly," said Erik, "yours is a dangerous profession and such folk are considered quite expendable. But I will tell you who your father is and introduce you to a society that does not sneer at such unfortunates, whose only fault is a questionable birth." He glanced around quickly to make sure no one would be able to hear, saying with ill-contained excitement, "your father is a dragon." The two boys stared at the fellow in consternation, though he seemed quite serious and rather disappointed that they did not immediately rejoice at this strange news.

Karly closed his gaping mouth and said quietly, "I do not understand."

Erik smirked, "obviously, but certain dragons are wont to go around in the guise of mortal men and sometimes they seduce a mortal woman, as was the case with your mother."

Karly gaped like a stranded fish for a moment, but anger soon overrode his surprise, "and he abandoned her to a life of misery and shame?"

Erik shrugged, "what is the plight of one woman to a creature that lives forever?"

Karly said angrily, "I am not sure I want to be associated with so heartless a people."

Erik scoffed, "do you think mankind is any better? Look about you and tell me how many compassionate and caring people you know? Most are as depraved and careless as you assume all dragons must be, but they are just like any other race, there is a full spectrum of personality, virtue, and vice to be found amongst them."

Karly sighed heavily, "and what does this mean for me? That I belong to neither race or to both?"

Erik said quietly, "you have your father's blood in you, but also your mother's. Hers is mortal, his immortal. There will come a day when the immortal shall overshadow the mortal and you will become a dragon in truth, albeit with the ability to maintain a human form should you wish it."

"When and how?" asked the alarmed boy.

Erik said, "death will trigger it or, if you survive into your third decade, eventually it will just happen."

Karly looked at him in astonishment, "why do you tell me these things?"

Erik said stiffly, "that you know what to expect and accept what is to come."

"Accept?" said Karly in surprise, "I have a choice?"

Erik smiled coldly, "not really. It will happen in any case, the question is whether your mind can accept the change or whether you go mad and become a monster in truth." Karly slumped back in his seat, his eyes full of quiet dread as everything sank in.

Corbin leaned towards the man and asked, "Karly said you had a keen interest in the Wood?"

Erik nodded, "a few of our people live in the Wood, but most prefer mountainous areas, little frequented by other races. We are ever curious about the happenings in the Wood, for it is home to the majority of the world's other races. We are welcome there, should we care for the confines of a forest, but we have no representative on their Elder Council."

Corbin smiled in comprehension, "so that is what is strange about you, I have never met a dragon before."

Erik smiled slightly, "but I still have not yet puzzled out what you are."

Corbin glanced at his stymied friend, who was too busy with his own thoughts to notice aught else. He looked at Erik and said, "I do not even know what I am, save a man in the Master's service."

Erik eyed him cautiously, "there is far more to it than that, but I must be content with what you are willing or able to share. I have little time or use for your so-called Master, in that I will be blunt."

Their conversation was suddenly ended as Karly finally said, "now what?"

Erik shrugged, "you can go back to your regular life, if you can call it that, or do as you please. I thought I would explore the Wood while I am here, you are welcome to accompany me if you'd like."

Karly nodded resignedly, "I have to go back that way regardless. Corbin says there is now a passable road through the Wood and it will hasten my return home. I have nowhere else to go at the moment." He brightened and turned to his friend, "of course you could introduce us to your new friends?"

Corbin shook his head, "I do not exactly have friends in the Wood, rather let us say that I am tolerated because they cannot be rid of me."

Erik smiled with interest, "the Fairyfolk cannot rid themselves of one boy? Interesting that, as is this news of a highway for mortal comings and goings. Let us all tread this byway together, shall we?" The others nodded their agreement as Erik stood to go, "shall we be off?"

Karly said in amazement, "it is dark out."

Corbin smiled to himself, forgetting that he once depended on the light of the sun and lamps to find his way; apparently dragons had no difficulty navigating in the dark either. Corbin took his friend's shoulder and drew him to his feet, "we will make sure you do not fall by the way." Karly said nothing but only looked at his friend in utter helplessness. They were soon in their saddles, riding out of the city towards the impenetrable darkness that was the Fairywood. Corbin took Karly's reins and led the way into the night, knowing where lay the road that they sought. Erik watched the boy and wondered who or what he was that he could see in the pitch black of a cloudy and moonless night.

They had entered the Wood though Karly could see nothing at all, he finally began to trust that his friend would at least not lead him into a ditch, and relaxed enough to say, "if all this is true, how is it that you have not abandoned me in horror?"

Corbin smiled, "what matters to me your family history or mixed bloodlines? All I care is what kind of a man or dragon or whatever you will become."

Karly said in mild annoyance, "but I do not want to be a dragon."

Corbin said ruefully, "we cannot choose what we are, only who we are."

Karly barked a laugh, his sense of humor recovering from his recent shock, "I suppose I had best tread carefully from here on out lest you give me a theology lesson. Who I am indeed!"

Corbin grinned though his friend could not see it, "that is a danger indeed but if ever you wish to know anything of the sort, you need but ask."

"Bah," scoffed Erik, "who needs such fairy tales?"

Corbin could not help but laugh, "who indeed! Not that dragons and enchanted forests are all that unusual."

Erik laughed, "you have a point, lad. It is not for one legend to scoff at another. I will try and respect your myths as you have been so considerate of mine."

Corbin drew rein and said, "we had best stop for the night before Karly falls out of his saddle." Erik murmured his reluctant assent, leaving Karly to the care of Corbin while he vanished into the night, curious as to what had happened in the Wood of late.

Karly was barely conscious enough to dismount and unroll his blanket, but with Corbin's help he was soon curled up and asleep. Erian eyed his companion, "how long do I have to be a horse?"

Corbin grinned, "I will watch our sleeping dragon, you should probably see what has come of the other." Happily, the unicorn was himself again and swiftly vanished after the missing Erik while Corbin watched the camp.

Dawn was creeping into the undergrowth when Erian returned and reported, "he has gone to the Council Chambers and has been asking questions. Many are uneasy with all that has happened of late. Some speak of war and others of leaving. The moment of crisis and decision will soon come, but there are positive signs too, as some are already hunting down or driving away the fell things that should not be allowed to dwell in the Wood. Even a few men have been seen upon this way and been allowed to pass unhindered."

Corbin nodded, "better tidings than I had hoped. Do we wait for our missing companion or move on and hope he catches up?"

Erian shook his head, "he will not be left behind if he does not wish to be. Get the boy in his saddle, Erik will find us soon enough." Corbin nodded and was about to turn and waken Karly, when he froze in mid-stride.

A despicable looking man stood on the road not an arm's length from Karly, who snored on unaware. He eyed Corbin warily but a smirk was on his lips as he approached the sleeping boy. "We have nothing you want," said Corbin desperately.

"Maybe not," sneered the bandit, "but what does that matter? I can do as I please and there is nothing you can do about it. Say I want to stab your lazy friend here?" Corbin cried out but he was too late, the man had already buried his knife in Karly's chest, the boy wakened with a cry of pain and terror. The bandit's vile joy turned to horror as something leapt from the undergrowth and nearly ripped him in half.

Erik dropped the bandit and turned to Corbin in disgust, "why did you not do something?"

Corbin knelt beside his gasping friend and said quietly, "I am powerless against mortal men."

Karly stared in horror from Erik to Corbin and back again, "I am not ready. I will go mad!"

"Accept the truth, boy!" snarled Erik, "Else you will lose not only your mind but your very life!"

"I cannot, will not, not yet!" wailed the boy in despair.

Corbin turned grim eyes to Erian, who shook his head slightly, knowing what the boy intended. Whispered Corbin, "this I can do." Corbin gasped suddenly, as if thrust into cold water, and fell backwards, unmoving. Karly was still in a panic, but the pain and whelming dark were gone. Erik stared at the pair in astonishment and then jumped to see a unicorn now standing behind him, nosing the prone Corbin.

Karly suddenly stood and stared at himself, the dismembered bandit, the unicorn, and Corbin, trying to comprehend what had happened. Said he in amazement, "I am alive."

Erik studied the boy, "fully healed, but how?"

Erian raised his head and looked at the pair sadly, "the boy sacrificed himself for his friend."

Erik knelt beside Corbin and turned him over, the strangeness about him had vanished but he was breathing regularly and seemed in good health otherwise. Erik frowned, "I do not understand."

The unicorn smiled, "obviously, but what strange rumors did you hear in your wanderings last night?"

Erik shook his head, "some very strange tales if you are the pair they speak of." He eyed the prone boy again, "he is mortal, that is the difference."

The unicorn nodded and Karly stared, "he has always been mortal, what else would he be?"

The unicorn shook his head, "strange have been his adventures since your parting."

Karly shook his head, "strange indeed. Now what?"

The unicorn said sternly, "you need to accept what and who you are. The boy has bought you time and that is all. If either of you is mortally wounded again, both will be restored to their previous condition."

Karly shook his head, "I do not want to go through with this!"

The unicorn looked at him sadly, "there is nothing else to be done. You are what you are." Corbin groaned and sat up, feeling rather miserable for the first time in recent memory. The unicorn smiled cheerfully, "we are at it again my friend."

Corbin smiled, "yes, but this time our roles are reversed. I hope you do not mind spending some time with a mortal man?"

Erian snorted in amusement, "I never have before. Whatever your condition, our mission remains the same."

Corbin nodded and studied his friend, smiling to see him fully healed. Karly sighed, "I suppose I owe you my thanks, whatever it was that you did. But I still do not like this."

Corbin shook his head, "it is not a matter of like or dislike, it is your fate and must be accepted or you will lose everything." He smiled, "regardless of the whole dragon thing, have you thought about your immortal soul?"

Karly rolled his eyes, "do not start with that again! I think I would rather be a dragon."

Corbin exchanged a grim look with Erian, "we are in trouble then." The unicorn could only shake his head, there were some things about men he would never understand.

Erik groused, "now that all this touchy feely nonsense is finished, we had best be moving on. There is no telling what might be attracted by all this commotion."

"No," said a snarling voice, "it is quite possible to tell a Werewolf when you see one. The boy and I have some unfinished business, the rest of you may go about yours."

Corbin drew his sword, "I have only this to say to you fiend."

Erian snorted and tossed his head, "if he does not finish you, I will!"

The King of the Werewolves laughed bitterly, "as you have nearly destroyed my race? At last the creature is vulnerable and I shall have my revenge." He lunged in and bit Corbin on the arm, but the boy held his sword steady and skewered the fiend as he attacked. The wolf crumpled with a whimper and lay still. Corbin threw down his sword and pulled up his sleeve, the wound was nasty looking but rather superficial. It should heal without complication.

Karly burst out, "what does he mean that you have nearly destroyed his race? I did not think you a proponent of genocide after all of your prattling on about, 'it does not matter what you are,' but apparently it must!"

Erian snorted angrily, "werewolves are evil creatures that kill and maim without a second thought. They are to be hunted down and destroyed wherever they are found. They are not a race, but rather corrupted men who have chosen to embrace evil with all they are. There are evil dragons as well as benign members of that race, as there are men, elves, unicorns, griffins, etc., but there are no benign werewolves." As he spoke, Erian was studying Corbin and his wound, exchanging worried glances with Erik. Erik shook his head grimly and Erian did likewise.

Corbin stared at the two, "the wound is not that bad."

Erik said slowly, "it is not the severity of the wound, but its source."

Erian nodded, "the pack leader has had his revenge."

Corbin stared at them, "what are you talking about?"

Erik said grimly, "the unicorn is only partly right in what he has said. Some werewolves, the sapient form at least, are men that choose to become such, but there is a more bestial form, one that has no more sentience than an animal. Thankfully one rarely survives a werewolf attack, because if you are bitten and survive, the result is that you become a mindless monster and will turn on anyone and everyone around you." Erik eyed Karly grimly, "it is much the same as a man who cannot fathom the notion that he is actually a dragon. His mind is shattered and only the monster remains."

Corbin said quietly, "there is no cure?" Erik and the unicorn shook their heads. Corbin said grimly, "what of Karly, if I become this thing you will be forced to kill me and that means..."

Erik eyed Karly sharply, "yes, it will be the end of you both. He has roughly two days to come to peace with who and what he is or we shall have two mindless monsters on the loose."

Corbin stood and looked Erik in the eye, "you would do everyone a favor in ending it now, but for Karly's sake we must wait. Promise me that you will do what you must to prevent harm to others."

Erik nodded and even managed a grim smile, "it is not just anyone who can ask a man to kill him with a straight face, but yes, I will see that no one is injured because of you."

Karly stared at Corbin, as if he were some sort of fiend, thinking that that must be how everyone else saw himself, said he harshly, "how does it feel to be a monster yourself? Do your platitudes bring you comfort?"

Corbin frowned, "what on earth are you talking about? Our situations are completely different!"

"Not as I see it," scowled Karly, "we are both of us doomed to become some sort of monster and will lose ourselves in the process!"

Corbin shook his head, "you are not a monster but a rational creature, albeit one quite alien to your current sensibilities, you will only become the monster if you refuse to accept who and what you are." He swallowed hard and continued, "I will become a monster regardless of how I feel in the matter. The other difference is that I will not lose my soul as you risk yours, for mine is in the Master's keeping and whatever may happen, nothing can snatch me from His hand." Karly snarled silently at his friend and disappeared deeper into the forest.

Erik shook his head and ran after the boy, this was no time for him to be alone. Erian looked plaintively at Corbin, who smiled weakly and said, "you had best follow them, they need your compassion and wisdom far more than I do, perhaps they will listen to you." With a heartfelt sigh, the unicorn vanished after the missing dragons. Corbin busied himself in cleaning up the mess upon the road, burying the dead bandit and the dead wolf. Exhausted by the events of the day and his labors, he leaned back against a tree and was soon asleep. It was full dark when he awoke and he was still alone. He was dreadfully thirsty, but could no longer see in the dark to find water. He listened intently and thought he heard the babble of a distant brook. He stumbled towards the sound, leaving the relative safety of the road behind, tripping over fallen branches and stones, falling into holes, and scratching his face and hands on thorns and low branches. Finally, he found the source of the noise and greedily helped himself to the water. Sated, he sat down again to rest, only then noticing that he felt rather feverish. He fell again into a dreamless sleep and hoped someone would come back for him before it was too late.

Erian and Erik pursued the irate Karly, but he would not be comforted nor would he content himself with his fate. He stubbornly refused to submit either to his draconian heritage or to the Master. As day faded into night, and still the boy would not listen, would not even think about what was to come, Erian said in exasperation, "I must return to Corbin, I have left him alone too long in his condition."

Karly snarled, "what about me? Is not my lot as pitiable as his?"

Erian laid his ears flat, "you have a choice, he does not. Quit feeling sorry for yourself and do what you must, if not for yourself then at least for those who might suffer for your negligence."

Karly drew back from the unicorn and sneered, "if such is compassion, I want none of it." The boy turned and ran deeper into the thicket.

Erik said regretfully to the unicorn, "I appreciate your efforts on our behalf. Go tend to your boy; it will not be long now. I do not look forward to dealing with a rogue dragon!"

Erian shivered, "let us hope he comes to his senses." He retraced his steps but could not find the boy on the road. Finally, he found the place where Corbin had crashed through the underbrush in search of water and tracked him to the side of a small stream where he was still sleeping. The unicorn shook his head grimly, the boy was already hot to the touch and slipping into a delirium; Karly had better come to peace with himself soon or they would have two monsters to deal with.

Erian tried to rouse the sleeping boy, but he only snarled and growled in his sleep. There was no time! He had to find someone or something to kill the boy before he woke and escaped custody. He dashed off into the woods, searching desperately for Erik or anyone or thing that might end the curse. He finally found Erik, who had at last given up on Karly, the boy had chosen his own fate, but when they returned to the place Corbin had been, he was gone. The pair exchanged a grim look, knowing this could not be good. Erian said grimly, "you find Corbin and I will take your dragon."

Erik frowned, "can you handle a dragon?"

Erian nodded, "I am like the boy, I have already tasted of death. I cannot hurt mortal or innocent creatures but this dragon will be neither, whereas it might kill another dragon."

Erik shrugged, "as you wish it then, but I will not risk such a bite." As he finished speaking, he took on the form of a small dragon that ran on two long back legs with small, sharply clawed forearms. His scales would keep wolf teeth at bay while his teeth and claws did the rest. The pair separated, each in pursuit of their assigned quarry.

Erik tracked the feral creature for half a day before he came upon a party of young elvish lords out for a day's amusement, apparently taking seriously the command to hunt down and destroy all fiendish creatures within the Wood. They had found a small pack of werewolves and had just finished off the last of the creatures when the small dragon surprised them. Said Erik, "were any of these creatures different than the others?" The elves shook their heads, saying they had finished most of them at a distance with spear or bow, but that he was more than welcome to inspect their quarry. Erik searched through the dead wolves but they all looked the same to him, suddenly a pitiful whine met his ears. Searching in the direction of the noise, he slipped down into a small gully and at the bottom found one of the beasts with an arrow lodged in his side. He drew his knife and cut the suffering creature's throat and immediately it vanished. The elves stood at the top of the ravine and called down asking if everything was all right. Erik called back up with a smile, "I believe everything is just fine."

Corbin appeared immediately under the great redbud tree, himself again but this meant Karly had to have come to a decision. He immediately became a unicorn and galloped off in search of the others. He found Erian and a monstrous dragon tangled in a terrible battle, neither seemingly able to overcome the other. Corbin screamed his defiance and grief and leapt into the fray. It was a long and terrible fight, but finally the monster was defeated. Erik saw the last few minutes and was overcome with astonishment, he never could have bested the creature himself. "I owe you my life," said Erik, as the pair stepped back from the carnage.

Corbin took again his human form, saying with a sad smile, "and I owe you mine, thus I think we are even, but alas for Karly!"

"He made his own decision, lad," said the dragon grimly, "as we each must. Tell me more of this Master of yours? I would not be ignorant upon the most important things in this world and beyond it!"

In or Out of the Story

It was the moment he had been hoping for and dreading his entire life, and now it was upon him, with no choice but one: to go boldly forward into the unknown or drop out of the story entirely. He stared into the depths of that fathomless pool, glowing a mysterious blue in every hue and variation that color might afford in this or any reality, the only light in the otherwise dark cavern, like the void between the stars, supplying an enigmatic depth all its own. He stared into those boundless depths for what might have been a lifetime, but at last he pulled his gaze away, shook his head firmly, and said, "no, such is not for me." With a heavy sigh he turned his back on the wonders and possibilities he had just glimpsed, shut the door of his heart to those Greater Things that boldly wished to intrude themselves therein and take up not only residence but rulership thereof.

Gone was the depthless blue, the glowing water, rather it was just a flat gray pond, dull in the light of his lantern, the shadows nothing more significant than any lightless place. He shook his head grimly at the fancies that had just assaulted his sensibilities, raising his lantern to glance around the featureless cavern, searching for the way out. He saw a tunnel off to one side, leading up and out into the pallid light of the burgeoning day, nearly blinding by comparison. He shook his head again, as he made his way thither, as if he were just wakening from a lifelong dream, for indeed he was. He left the cave and began the descent into the shadowy vale below, still enrapt in the mist and gloom of early dawn, forgetting all that had gone before, for his whole past was now a dream, the dream of a dream, and what lay ahead of him, he could not guess, but it must be better than what had gone before, most certainly than whatever it was he had imagined might happen if he believed his fancies within the depths of that strange cave.

Her brother had gone In, but he had never emerged, at least back into their idyllic little village, but this was not unheard of, most who Went, never returned to what had been, rather they vanished into what was yet to be, but life went on, as ever it did in that perfect hamlet, untouched by sorrow, sin, and death. The only thing that ever changed was the birth of a child or someone being Summoned to the Well, an interview from which few had returned, but much did each and every resident of that unsullied place anticipate their own Interview, curious to know what lay Beyond, what strange quest might be set them or what journey they might begin. Until that fateful day, each went about their lives as they had gone about them since the world began.

"It is time child," said the little magpie, perched upon the rim of the well whither Megan had gone to draw water.

"Me?!" said the girl in anticipation and wonder, unable to believe for very joy, "But my brother has just Gone and I am so very young, there are many far older and wiser...who am I to deserve such an honor?"

"Even so, child, your turn has come!" retorted the bird, before flitting off upon other errands. There was nothing to be done but Go. She immediately set down her buckets, still disbelieving, but unable to do aught else. She could not even run home and tell her parents goodbye, for when the Summons came, it must be heeded immediately or not at all, but she also knew they would understand and that such matters would be taken care of, it was for her to obey and for others to see to the lesser details pertaining thereto.

She easily found the path climbing higher and higher into the mountains, so high did they reach that some theorized they touched the very sky itself, but that was neither here nor there, rather her duty lay within the very heart of one of those strange peaks, deep within a hidden cavern did her quarry lay and thence did she hie herself with all the speed she possessed. It was completely dark, but her feet seemed to know the way, even if her mind and eyes did not, for never did she stumble or lose her way. At last she stood upon the brink of a strangely glowing pond in the very heart of the mountain, she could go no further without diving in, so this must be the fabled Well.

She trembled in fear and anticipation, sensing that Greater Things abounded herein, dangerous things to her delicate frame of flesh and bone, but things her heart thirsted after more than her body ever ached for water or air. She spoke not a word, it seemed sacrilegious in that silent place, not to mention she knew there was no need, for here her heart and thoughts were an open book, nothing was hidden from He who had Summoned. She knelt there on the edge of the pool, unable to draw her gaze away from those unfathomable shades of radiant blue. Suddenly that sapphire sea turned black as that impossible, to her sensibilities at least, concept called Death. She gasped in horror and rose to her feet, taking a terrified step back.

"Will you Go?" came the voiceless whisper.

"Into the very heart of Death itself?" quavered she in terror.

"To shine the Light into the depths of utmost Night?" persisted that still, small Voice.

"If You will Go with me," quivered she.

"Certainly!" came the joyous reply, "I cannot leave nor forsake you, child, only you can choose to walk away from Me."

"Death," whispered she, "we have only heard rumors, legends, theories. Are there truly folk who dwell within its shadow?"

"People who have never known the Light," agreed the Voice.

"How dreadful!" said she in deepest sorrow, "Certainly I must Go, if I might dispel their endless Night!"

"They will not listen," warned the Voice, "even when I visited them Myself, still they rejected Me, the Light itself. You carry a mere candle, are but the least of My servants."

"But there must be a reason, if I am to Go," persisted the girl, "it cannot be utterly hopeless, else why would You bother?"

"Indeed," said He, "it shall be difficult, but not impossible, for am I not to Go with you? Most will reject what they cannot understand, little realizing their desperate desire and need for it, but they think themselves too wise to need such nonsense, as they consider the matter."

"And what have I to fear from Death or Night, if You are with me?" said she eagerly.

"Here I am the Sun," said He, "There I am but a candle, at least to your perception."

"Even so," said she, "You shall still be beside me, a light on the brink of utmost night, a very breath of life amidst the noxious fumes of death."

"Then Go child," said He, "shine forth in the darkness, that those who live in hopelessness among the ashes and shadows of Death may know there is Light and Live at last."

"Where, how?" asked she, suddenly anxious, feeling those Awful Things suddenly pressing in around her, seeming to displace the very air itself. She stared into the fathomless depths, which were again every shade of enigmatical blue, taking half a step towards the brink, knowing what must be done, if she was to begin the Quest that had been set before her. Her mortal flesh quivered in terror, cringing back as if she was intentionally reaching her hand towards a searing flame, for indeed it was even more dangerous, for did she vanish into those depthless depths, she would be utterly unmade, at least her physical self, but she could not continue else. With a final, terrified whimper, she dove into the pool, vanishing immediately from that physical reality, not even eliciting a ripple upon that impossibly still surface.

"That was certainly strange," said the girl to no one in particular, crawling out upon the river's bank whereon she found herself. The water passed heedlessly on without making a reply, save its timeless and unending murmur, eddying for a moment in an oxbow before continuing on its way.

"What lies ahead will be far stranger still," said a familiar voice, "at least to our sensibilities."

"Erian?!" said Megan, gaining her feet and rushing to the unicorn's side, joyously flinging her arms around his arching neck.

"Yes, child," snorted he in delight, "we shall venture forth upon this adventure together."

Her eyes narrowed pensively, "where are we?"

"The Valley of the Shadow," said he quietly.

"You volunteered to come here?!" said she in wonder.

He snorted in amusement, "if you can, why not I?"

"But you are a unicorn," said she, as if this made any sense at all, "what have you and your kinfolk to do with the realm of sorrow and death? The domain of fallen men?"

"He has Asked," replied the unicorn patiently, "who am I to say no?"

"Indeed," smiled she wryly, "I suppose a soul is a soul, species matters nothing to Him. His ways are not our ways, and if He has a reason for something, who are we to question it?" She glanced about curiously, for the first time taking in her immediate surroundings, asked she at last, "what is this place like?"

He shook his great head and said, "I know little, my friend, though I believe it will be quite strange to our sensibilities." He blew out his nostrils in amusement, "I do know that men do not routinely associate with other thinking creatures, if any there be in this odd world."

The girl frowned, "no fairies or pixies or elves?"

"Perhaps there is a fallen variant of such folk in this reality, as there is a fallen race of men, but I would think each race would keep very much to itself, if such there is," said he thoughtfully, "I very much doubt it is an everyday occurrence to have a winged horse or a centaur wandering through the local village."

"How very strange and dull it must be," mused she.

"It's worse than that," said the unicorn sadly, "death and sorrow are rather their neighbors and closest associates."

"Which is why we are come," said she eagerly, "to shine the Light into this benighted sphere."

"But they will laugh and call it nonsense," cautioned her companion, "they think it mere legend, if not pure folly."

"Humph," sniffed she in derision, "we'll see about that!"

The unicorn whinnied a laugh, "perhaps your stubbornness alone will save countless souls from utter night!"

"Gracious!" smiled she ruefully, "It is His mercy and grace and has naught to do with me!"

"Even so," said the unicorn encouragingly, "glad am I to accompany you on this strange quest. But come, we had best be off."

"Certainly," agreed she, turning to walk beside him, as was their wont in former days.

"No, no, child!" laughed he, "Here you must ride lest we be thought thoroughly ridiculous for reasons other than the tales we have come to tell."

"Truly?!" said she, rather scandalized, for back home one would never think to sit aback a sentient creature, any more than one would expect a grown man to ask his father to carry him upon his back as if he were but a wee child still.

The unicorn smiled drolly, "of a certainty, were we not just discussing the likely dearth of other sentient races in this broken reality, particularly of the quadrupedal sort? Men do not keep horses for mere pets, if you are possessed of such a beast, it will be earning its keep."

"How very strange," quoth she, "but if you insist, I shall oblige you." She leapt aback the wondrous beast and they were off at the gallop, whither to she knew not, but it seemed that Erian at least was sure of his direction. At last the wondrous creature came to a stop and the girl immediately dismounted, wishing to discuss her observations of all she had glimpsed in their travels, "what a strange place! The very light seems dim, I kept waiting for the gloom of early morning to break forth into full dawn but the dusk has only deepened!," said she, glancing around at the advancing twilight shadows, continuing, "and the colors are so drab, the creatures so dull, the hours so weary!"

"Yes," said the unicorn quietly, "this is a fallen reality, remember? Compared to the unspoiled world of our acquaintance, all will be dull or sullied by comparison, and here Time is a great weight that presses incessantly upon everything until it collapses under the burden."

"Death," sighed the girl heavily, "to think I thought it only a myth!"

The unicorn snorted, "as all in this world will consider us and our tales!"

"Indeed!" said she in wonder, "Now where have you brought us?"

"There is a city ahead," said the unicorn, and at her puzzled look, he added, "larger than the largest village you could imagine." At her eager look, he cautioned, "but remember the nature of this place!"

"Oh!" shuddered she, "How dreadful the little villages must be by comparison, what then this urban wasteland?"

"Precisely," said he grimly, "while there are folk of good intentions and gracious hearts to be found, they are rather the exception than the rule. Most men in this world live merely for themselves, some even find delight in evil."

"But we are come to bring the Light that they might see aright thereby!" said she, stern as a soldier ready for battle.

"Exactly," pranced he in his excitement, "neither need we fear, for our Master has overcome the lord of this fallen sphere, indeed, he is but a created being, not the Creator Himself, though certainly a dread foe for we mere creatures of flesh and blood."

"I feel like a baby trying to understand a complicated conversation between her parents," sighed she heavily.

"We'll know what we must, when we must," assured the unicorn, he snorted a laugh, "it would not do for the bearers of His Light to walk themselves in darkness and ignorance!"

"It will be a proper adventure then," mused she, but further conversation was impossible, for the clatter of many hooves upon the road beside which she had alighted filled all their ears.

But instead of passing on indifferently upon their own business, the leader of the little party of mounted men suddenly drew rein and shouted in surprise, "Megan?!"

"Tobin!" said the girl eagerly, not noticing the unicorn's wary snort and the uneasy toss of his head, in her excitement and joy at seeing her brother again.

"What are you doing here?" said he, eagerly dismounting and running to her.

"I hardly know," laughed the girl, "I left the village just this morning and find myself here."

"Such was my own tale," said he, studying her and the splendid horse at her shoulder, "though it took me some little time to establish myself in this strange world, I've done quite well since. Where did you come by this wonderful horse? I left with naught but the clothes on my back!"

She blinked at him in astonishment, but dared not betray the true nature of her companion if he could not see it for himself, said she cautiously, "he was there to meet me when I began this odd journey, we have ridden hence and that is all there is to my tale thus far."

"Quite fortunate," nodded her brother appreciably, "I endured a long dusty walk myself, and here you have found your own brother too! No sleeping under a hedge for you, my dear, come along and I'll get you settled for the night. Tomorrow we can speak of what the future might hold for both of us." He helped her into her saddle, at least to his perception, for in truth the unicorn bore no harness, and then returned to his own. The party trotted off, eager to be home ere full dark, both siblings silent in their own musings, though Megan's were much troubled even by what little her brother had said.

They wended their way through the dark and empty streets, the once eager girl little noticing all the strange sights that passed upon their way, so troubled by her thoughts was she. Said Erian quietly, so quietly perhaps the horse beside him did not even hear the murmur thereof, "be careful dear heart, I fear your brother has Fallen."

"You are not coming with me?!" said she in equally silent dread.

He snorted in amusement, "and how would you justify inviting your horse withindoors? Quadrupeds are not considered sentient in this particular reality and therefore hardly company and guests!"

"There is much I must learn," mused she ruefully, "but I will not be ill-equipped, whatever betide. Thank you for everything, my friend!"

"Certainly child," pranced he, tossing his head eagerly, "for we have been set this adventure together, and it is all my joy to thus attempt it!"

"He's certainly a spirited beast!" said Tobin at her shoulder in approbation, "Perhaps you would sell him to me and I could provide you with a more suitable mount for a lady?"

"A lady?!" gasped she, "Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not," smiled he grimly, "it isn't much of a life, I quite agree, especially for so spirited a creature as you are wont to be, at least in that the horse suits you quite perfectly, but it is the highest to which a woman might aspire in this particular society. Quite an accomplishment for a dusty village girl! Now there is a ball tomorrow night and I will introduce you at court, perhaps you could catch the eye or win the heart of some minor lord or nobleman and thereby find your place in this society?"

"That certainly sounds appalling," snorted she in amused disgust.

He shrugged uneasily, "it is the best you can hope for, else you'd better ride home. I can't exactly succor you your whole life, you know?"

"Certainly not," agreed she, "but I do appreciate your kindness, though I fear this society of yours will never come to like me or I it."

"With such spirit," laughed he, "you should be Queen! But don't go making eyes at the Prince tomorrow, only trouble comes to those who dare to look so far above their station, which many might say we are already doing in merely aspiring to the barest fringes of the gentry."

"I wish I could ride home this moment," sighed the girl heavily, "but alas that is not to be and perhaps I can make a difference in this wretched society."

"As to that," said the boy gruffly, "I know you took those old fairy tales that infested our village quite seriously, but here no one will tolerate such nonsense. They'll think you mad or a fool, so keep your mouth shut about such folly if you still cling to it as all our benighted folk do! But I hope by your presence here, that you have seen the truth of the matter and left it all behind you in our ridiculous village as I have." She said nothing, her face a grim mask of shock and horror, but he took her agreement for granted, nodded in approval, and rode to the front of the party as they were nearly to their destination.

At last the scenery was too grand and imposing to be ignored even by her distracted thoughts, as a great castle towered over them, black and terrible in the shrouding dusk, with here and there an evil red eye of a torch or lantern staring balefully upon these insolent upstarts who dared disturb its repose. Tobin said something to the guards upon the outer gates and the party was admitted. He took her hand as she dismounted, leaving her no chance to say anything to Erian before he was swept off to the stables with the other horses and she into the palace by her eager brother, at last she forced herself to pay attention to what he was saying, now alone in all the world save for him.

Continued he, "I know you find yourself a little overwhelmed at the first, who wouldn't be! But look upon this glorious castle and all the great works of men which compose this city and realm, you'll never regret leaving that primitive hamlet ever after. And the people are even better! Such depth and cunning, wisdom and prowess! I can't wait to introduce you to it all, what a lady you will make!" He rambled on thus while they rambled about the extensive structure, in search of only he knew what or whom, but at last she was given into the keeping of a stern but matronly woman, the housekeeper, and sent off for a bath, supper, and bed, with a promise that he would find her on the morrow. She could only blink in astonishment before being swept off like a leaf borne upon a river in flood.

While Megan's material needs were being attended to, so did the palace menials attempt to do the same for her companion, but as they thought him a horse, such niceties as even the meanest servant might be given were completely denied him, for they thought a clean stall, some hay, and a pail of water all he needed for his continued contentment and wellbeing. But he did not fault them for denying him company, light, and civility, for they knew not that he desired them. So it was they left him in that dark, musty stall with his bucket and fodder and called it a night.

He snorted in amusement, "to think this is how they treat a guest!"

"They do not know any better," came the sensible reply from the next stall over.

Erian's ears pricked as his strange eyes easily pierced the darkness, whickered he in delight, "a Pegassi, here?!"

"I might say the same for a Unicorn," retorted the winged horse in the next stall.

"That you could," laughed Erian, "though we left the Mountains just this morning and have no idea what we are about."

"We've been here for many a long, weary mortal year," said the Pegassi, "and still I am unsure exactly what is the point of our own quest."

"Certainly to keep these mortal horses from overthrowing their human masters," said the unicorn grimly, "a noble calling indeed!" Both laughed at this, before speaking upon many things that night, much to the encouragement and delight of both.

Megan however, was not so fortunate in finding fellowship, company, or delightful conversation. She was scrubbed and fed and closeted in a bedroom, as if she was a plate or spare sheet or other bit of bric-a-brac without personality or a mind, little needing a social outlet or friendship, but merely a thing that would keep well in a cupboard somewhere, out of the way and in nowise needing dusting or further attention until it was wanted or useful. At least they left her with a candle. She paced the little room incessantly, her mind riotous with all that had happened or been revealed since leaving her quiet little village what seemed an eon ago.

She glanced grimly at the bed, feeling no interest or need of sleep at the moment, and instead took up her candle and decided to go exploring. What was the worst that could happen? At least if they tossed her in the dungeons it would be far more interesting than her stuffy little room, an adventure certainly! She saw a myriad of servants busy about their own midnight errands, though they studiously never raised their eyes to meet her own, having no part in her mischief and she none in theirs. She sighed heavily, feeling more lonely than ever, and continued her explorations of the vast palace, wondering if she might find Erian and have a chance to discuss all the perplexities of the day with him.

She left the more proper and decorous part of the castle, wherein the nobility and important folk were wont to frequent, and found herself in the servant's quarters, the kitchens, and all the vast territory required to support such an establishment. Here the passing menials had no qualms about staring at her, as if they had never seen a girl before, but she was an odd sight, for her garments marked her as someone verging on respectability yet what was she doing wandering the disreputable halls of this part of the castle? They daren't reprimand her, but neither could they quite ignore such a spectacle in their own domain either.

At last she wound her way down to the kitchens, hoping that perhaps in such homely surroundings she might find such a thing as genial company at last. What she found was as alien a sight as herself, but none dared gawp or gape at such a personage, indeed it was as much as their heads were worth! "My Lady!" stammered the Prince, a plate full of pilfered pastries in one hand.

Not knowing who this person was, but assuming him to be someone very important, she offered him a very clumsy courtesy and said anxiously, "forgive me sir for disturbing you, I am quite a stranger here and couldn't sleep so thought to go exploring..." She trailed off as a look of pure delight covered his countenance, cocking her head in bafflement, for this was not how anyone of her acquaintance in this grim reality had ever responded to her, even her own brother was more interested in his own plots and schemes concerning her than in her own thoughts, feelings, and experiences.

"Why that look of utter puzzlement, milady?" queried that royal personage, his impish smile only deepening.

She smiled ruefully, "let us just say it has been quite a baffling day and you are the first real person I have yet encountered, or rather the first to treat me as an actual person and not a pawn or parcel."

"You have quite summed up the predicament in which I daily find myself," agreed he, "come, will you share one of these scrumptious pastries with me? I shouldn't eat them all myself thus it would be quite a generous service to offer your future sovereign."

"Oh!" said she, "Would it be quite proper? I'm merely a dusty village girl!"

"It is a royal edict," said he with relish, "now sit yourself down lest I be forced to send for the headsman, and remember, such bloody affairs never mix well with pastries, so it would be quite a wretched end to this little foray."

"Certainly," grinned she, catching his humor, much delighting him, for few were those who could abandon the stifling weight of rank, station, propriety, and their own grasp for more in his presence.

"There you are!" came a stern voice, rife with exasperation and amusement, as another young man traipsed into the pantry, gaping in astonishment to see what it was the Prince was about, besides pilfering pastries, or rather whom he was sharing his plunder with.

"Ah, Bayard!" said he, "You are just in time, I have discovered a veritable enigma loose within the castle and thought you might help me demystify the situation, though I fear in doing so she will lose most of her charms."

Bayard boldly seated himself and took the last dessert from the plate, taking a bite before addressing the Prince's statement, "what exactly do you mean by that, Sire?"

"I haven't the foggiest," agreed the jovial prince, "and I don't care, for once in my stuffy life, I'm having fun and enjoying it thoroughly. She assures me she is naught but a scruffy village lass newly arrived in the palace, wandering about as lost as one of her proverbial sheep. She discovered me in the very commission of this great crime and demanded I share the plunder lest she reveal me as the bandit I am."

"Well met, milady," grinned Bayard around another bite of the splendid confection, "anyone who puts the Prince this much at ease must be a fairy indeed!"

"Certainly not," laughed she merrily, "I'm as human as you gentlemen, though I have several dear friends of that persuasion. Have you never met one?"

They stared at her for a moment, thinking her quite serious, but then deciding she was playing along with the Prince's fancies, they laughed along with her, eliciting a rueful smile on her part, she would have to remember that such folk were not acquainted with any other sentient races or even aware that they were more than stories. Chuckled the Prince, "you quite had me there for a moment, milady, now will you promise me a dance tomorrow?"

"Certainly Sire," said she shyly, "as this too must be a royal edict."

He snorted a laugh, "only if it must be, I would hope it would not be so onerous a task that I must order you to do it?"

"Indeed, it would be my pleasure," smiled she, "but is it quite proper?"

"Now you sound like him," groused the Prince, eyeing Bayard in mock sternness.

"Which shows she is quite a sensible girl, Sire," said Bayard evenly, "while you are free to indulge yourself how ever you wish, imagine what it will do to her."

He eyed the girl grimly, "it will make every person in the castle with a marriageable female relation fiercely jealous and they will undoubtedly tear you apart like a pack of ravenous jackals."

"I would like to see them try," said she stonily, as if she was an ancient warrior, tried and true, unafraid of a mere pack of mangy dogs.

"I almost believe you could best them," said the Prince in wonder, adding with a wry smile, "therefore my edict stands."

"No," said she primly, "it shall remain an offer and I shall gladly accept it, though my own brother warned me against such doings."

"Your brother?" asked Bayard cautiously, "Is that how you come to find yourself here?"

"Yes," said she, "I know little of his part or place herein. He vanished from our village some time ago, none knew what came of him, and I left just this morning. His party happened upon me on the road hither and he took me under his wing. His name is Tobin."

The Prince frowned in puzzlement but Bayard nodded grimly, "one of Nevin's henchmen." He eyed the lady questioningly but added for her enlightenment, "the Prince's cousin and next in line for the throne should something happen to the Prince. He warned you not to get entangled with the prince?"

"He said it just wasn't the thing to look so far above my station," said she quietly, but adding with vehemence, "and don't think I'm doing any such thing! This meeting was not my intention, not in the least!"

Mused the Prince, "is he just maintaining propriety or is there some plot against me that he wishes to keep you from becoming entangled in?"

"I fear you have become quite deeply entangled in these affairs, milady," said Bayard gravely, "can you not just go home to your sheep and live happily ever after?"

"No sir," said she solemnly, "I was sent forth to do something and I can't do aught else until I have accomplished it, whatever it be."

"You have a warrior's heart, milady," said the Prince warmly, "so you may actually survive this debacle and live to accomplish your quest, whatever it be." His eyes narrowed, "who sent you forth, adventure bent?"

She blushed fiercely and dropped her gaze, saying abashedly, "I will tell you, but you will think me mad or a fool!"

"I am sure the Kingdom at large will already consider you thus for your antics so far," grinned Bayard in eager reassurance, "what is one more foible?"

Hearing the gaiety in his voice, she dared to lift her eyes and smote both with her intrepid gaze, daring either to laugh, "it was the Master Himself."

"And what then is your quest, milady?" asked the prince quietly.

"Specifically, I do not know," said she, "but we were sent forth to shine the Light amidst the dreary shadows of sorrow and death with which this world of yours is fraught."

"We?" asked Bayard, his eyes narrowed pensively as he added, "You said you were acquainted with fairies yet I do not believe you were in jest?"

"Quite," smiled she, "my companion is quite a person, though not of a race or sort you would believe."

"At least you did not venture forth alone, ignorant as a newborn lamb!" said the Prince in wonder, "But you are correct to assume most folk would laugh at or scorn your tale. What of your brother?"

She shook her head grimly, unable to keep a wretched tear from streaking one cheek, "I little know Sire, he is not the boy I knew. He has become as strange to me as all this world!"

"Where is your village?" queried Bayard.

"Up away in the mountains somewhere," said she, "though there is no going back once one has ventured forth into the sad vales below."

"No wonder you are an enigma!" said the Prince in wonder, "You do not merely believe in what most folk call legends, but you are one yourself, or at least grew up in one!"

"What do you mean?" asked she, "Is it not just a little village like any other?"

"There are Mountains and mountains, my dear," said Bayard with a wry shake of his head, "The Mountains are unclimbable by mortal men. It is said man's first home is found somewhere within those dreadful peaks and somewhere in their stony heart lies Life itself. And it was our ancestors' pursuit of that very thing for which they were cast from untainted paradise to live amidst these shadowed vales of death and sorrow."

"And my brother abandoned it to come here," sighed she heavily, "so he has become like the rest of our fallen race!"

"And what of you?" asked Bayard, "Did you too abandon our first home for lesser things?"

"I was Sent," said she quietly, "though I begin to understand that never more shall I again look upon my home even so."

"A trying day indeed, milady!" said the Prince in commiseration, goggling at so many old myths suddenly becoming reality before him.

"What think you now, Highness?" grinned Bayard eagerly, "Can you still deny the verity of old tales?"

The Prince shook his head in absolute wonder but said, "please, milady, tell me more!"

She grinned broadly and said, "is that a royal edict, Sire?"

They talked long into the night, before they were forced back to the more habitable parts of the castle by the early rising servants who must begin the breakfast preparations, but still Megan felt no urge to seek her blankets, rather she went out into the courtyard in search of the stables and her dear friend therein, but instead of Erian's warm company, rather a harsh hand took hold of her arm and forced her into the shadows of the stable, came Tobin's grating voice, "what are you doing?!" She frowned at him in perplexity and he persisted, "I told you to stay away from the Prince! Your impudence will be the end of you; you do not know the powers with which you are meddling! Go home or find some minor noble to satisfy your desire for power, leave the Prince alone!"

"That is no way to treat a lady, sir," said another voice grimly, a grizzled old soldier clutching his sword hilt.

Tobin dropped his hold on the girl in astonishment, "you?!"

The man's eyes narrowed as he asked, "what about me?"

"You?!" said Tobin eagerly, "You left the village too, but when I was only a child, and my sister but a baby!"

"If that be so," said the man grimly, "how is it you can treat a lady like that?"

Tobin frowned in perplexity, "I am no different than any other man."

"In that at least he speaks truly," sighed Megan heavily, "he left of his own accord."

"And you?" queried he, though not ungently.

"I was Sent," said the girl quietly.

Tobin smiled incongruously, "sent?! You! By who or what? You don't still believe those old tales do you? You think a myth sent you off upon this adventure? You're mad! In this world you need to seize power or be seized thereby, and I was doing what I could to help you, but alas you refuse to listen to sense! Stay away from the Prince or I don't know what will come of you!" He turned stiffly on his heel and stalked away.

"We had best speak at length," said the stranger grimly, "if you will accompany me, milady?"

"Certainly," said she as he led her towards the stables.

He shooed out the stable lads and any lurking grooms, and once he was content they were alone, he asked quietly, "can you see anything amiss herein, milady?"

She dashed up to Erian and flung her arms around his great neck, laughing as she did so, "only that they think such quarters befitting a sentient being!" A wry snort from the next stall over elicited a squeak of surprised delight from the girl, as she abandoned the unicorn to gaze in wonder upon the winged horse in the next stall, said she ruefully, "forgive me sir, I should have said beings!"

The Pegassi whickered a laugh and said, "come Garren, I believe the girl has proved herself, if the unicorn's testimony is not proof enough."

She turned to gaze upon the soldier as ever she had gazed upon the Pegassi, "so what Tobin said was true? You too have been sent out of our village, upon our Master's business bent?"

"Certainly, lass," smiled Garren easily, "though it seems your brother has refused such an assignment and was cast out."

"I thought as much," sobbed she, "is he truly Lost?"

Garren shook his head sadly, but there was a faint gleam of hope in his voice, "only as much as the rest of these wandering souls, which is why we are come after all: to shine the Light into their dark and hopeless lives."

"Excellent," said she, "so all hope is not lost!"

"What of me?" came a plaintive voice from the depths of the stable. The humans exchanged a pensive frown and dashed to the last stall, finding therein a magnificent horse, but still a horse for all his beauty.

"What is your own tale, my friend?" asked Garren solemnly.

"Can it be?" snorted the Pegassi excitedly, "The Lost One?!"

The horse blew air out of his nostril vehemently but said sadly, "I suppose I am at that. Are you saying you come from the Mountains, that you left at the Master's behest and that another has done as I have, leaving of my own accord, or rather being cast out when I would not obey and that I am not truly forsaken?"

"Not unless you continue to rebel and run stubbornly in the opposite direction," said Garren bluntly, "you have as much choice as every wandering soul: to turn to the Master or flee therefrom into utter and endless night."

"I've been a fool," snorted the horse grimly, "and I'm tired of it. Will you take me with you?"

It was Garren's turn to snort, "take you where? We are as much exiles as you, my friend, we cannot again look upon the Mountains, rather we may seek what lies Beyond them or linger here upon our Master's business. You must live out your mortal days and then see what lies beyond death, though if you do so in our Master's keeping, you have nothing to fear therein."

"I've been a fool, an utter fool," sighed the pitiful horse sadly, "but no more, I will seek Him whom I have spurned, a wretched mortal horse though I be."

"Do not weep for what has been," whinnied the Pegassi eagerly, "for have we not an eternity to enjoy the glorious Is?"

"I will one day look upon that endless, glorious morn," agreed the horse, brightening significantly, "but in the meantime, may I not be part of your little conspiracy?"

"Certainly," laughed the girl, "as little as we know of such matters, but you are most welcome amongst us!"

"So what is your part in all this?" queried the man of Megan.

She laughed brightly, "that I hardly know, I only left the village yesterday morning. I had a delightful evening in the kitchens with the Prince and his companion however."

"No wonder your brother was incensed against your meddling!" chuckled Garren, "If that boy's heart turns to our Master, what will come of his Kingdom?" Added he gravely, "but why is he so insistent that you do not meddle therewith?"

"Bayard said my brother was involved with the Prince's cousin and wondered if there was some plot amongst them against the Prince," said the girl.

Garren snorted a laugh, "only a day out of the village and already you are an accomplished schemer!"

Her eyes narrowed, "and what is your part in all this?"

He shrugged, "I'm a mere lieutenant in the palace guards at the moment, what will come next, I do not know, but it is shaping up to be a grand adventure."

Said she uneasily, studying his grizzled face with concern, "are we too subject to time and death, as are all the residents of this wretched sphere?"

"Afraid of getting old?" grinned he merrily, "Nay lass, appearance means nothing to us, nor can time and death do more than inconvenience us. We can get wet wading in this infernal sea but we cannot be dragged down into its unfathomable depths into utter night." Her answering smile was Joy itself.

"What sort of a girl is your sister?" asked the sinister voice out of the darkest shadows draping the unlit room in which Tobin found himself.

"She's mad," said the boy grimly, "she thinks she's been sent on a veritable mission by what any sensible person knows to be myth indeed!"

"A pity," mused the voice darkly, "I was hoping we could use her to destroy or corrupt the Prince. We'll just have to do it the old-fashioned way, I hope you won't take it amiss if the girl finds herself imperiled likewise?"

"Certainly not," said Tobin, "she's been warned and refuses to listen even so, she deserves whatever she gets."

"Excellent," laughed the other like a rotten carcass bursting open, eliciting a shiver of horror from the boy, what had he embroiled himself in?

"What think you, milady," began the Prince, as they whirled about the floor that night at the Ball, as she had promised, "of all the intrigue and complication in which you find yourself involved by daring to leave your little village..."

He did not finish his question nor had she a chance to answer, for he had collapsed with a dagger in his side, his grand clothes and the polished floor already red with blood. She knelt beside him in horror, even as Bayard raced up and squatted beside his stricken friend and the distraught lady. Gasped the Prince wryly through his pain, "it seems I have found your missing dagger, my friend, now fly ere worse comes of it. I am slain and none will believe it was not your hand that flung it." The boy wanted to protest, but he could neither dispute a royal edict, especially his friend's last command, nor the truth of his words. With a grimace of horror and sorrow, he dashed from the room as swiftly as he had come to his friend's side. Megan could only watch in uncomprehending horror as suddenly everyone in the entire world seemed to realize what had happened and pushed in around them.

Bayard ducked out a side door, his heart reeling in horror but his ever practical mind holding firm to its purpose. He saw a group of the royal guard mounting up for a patrol and he took his chance, throwing himself aback the nearest horse and urging the creature towards the gate before an outcry was raised against him. For a moment he thought himself free, but several outraged voices followed his retreat, demanding, "murder! Treason! Stop him, stop him!"

The boy might have made it, for the horse he was astride had no equal in the world for endurance or speed, but alas, one quick thinking guardsman drew his sword and cut the rope holding the inner gate open. The great metal portcullis fell with a horrifying crash even as the boy raced beneath it, only a few strides from freedom. The horse screamed like a breaking heart, followed by an eerie silence, save for the hurrying feet of the pursuers. The Prince's cousin grimaced in disgust as he surveyed the carnage, but smiled wickedly despite his horror, taunted he, "you've escaped the death you deserve, wretch, but this in its own way is just as ghastly."

"You won't get away with this..." murmured the crushed and mangled boy, before passing into utter night.

"What is to be done, Sire?" asked the senior guardsman there present of the grim-faced King, who stood silently surveying the carnage.

"Cast that traitor's carcass upon the dung heap," said he in disgust, before turning from the scene to address the tragedy awaiting him within. Nevin smiled viciously to no one in particular and followed the King back into the palace while the guards and servants began the messy business of putting the courtyard back in order.

They took up the stricken Prince, the girl being pushed aside by the anxious crowd, and bore him to his own chambers where the doctor might assess and tend the wound, but he emerged only a few minutes later shaking his head, grim as death, "he does not have long, I fear."

The King looked old as death, nodding his understanding, he turned haunted eyes upon the nearest guardsman and ordered, "have that heedless guardsman, who almost allowed the traitor's escape and deprived me of proper vengeance, and that upstart peasant wench, who dared to look above her station, dealt with immediately. Each had their part in this tragedy, even be it unwitting negligence, I will not have it in my Kingdom!" The man bowed deeply, gathered up the nearest of his comrades, and dashed off to do the King's will; Nevin's vile smile deepened as they trotted off about their duty even as he went about his own.

He slipped into the Prince's bedchamber, doing his best to hide his victorious smile under a mask of sorrow and gloom. The servants might have been fooled, but Ithril was not, "what do you want?" panted he through the pain.

"Just to assure that you die in the acutest misery and despair, Sire," smiled the treacherous boy, "your friend is dead and the King has ordered the head off of your rustic lady friend to boot! It is all quite delightful, I shall assume your place but none of the blame!"

"Better an honest death than such a wretched, empty life," groaned the Prince, "besides, I can't despair, though the shadows of death have gathered close about me, for I've found the Answer at last..." He smiled like Joy itself and looked for a moment like a man long held prisoner abroad suddenly sighting his long lost home, for that was indeed the case. He gasped like a stranded fish and then slumped lifeless upon the bed.

For a moment Nevin was deeply troubled by this last show of hopeful defiance, but then he remembered the fool was dead, the ultimate failure from which there could be no recovery. He smiled horridly in triumph upon the unseeing corpse, before painting again a façade of utmost grief upon his face and calling for the attending servants and the King.

Amid the chaotic and milling crowd that was all that remained of the once festive Ball, Megan found herself suddenly surrounded by grim looking guardsmen, who took her by the shoulders and bore her deep into the dungeons and pushed her into a grim little room wherein her only friend within the guard was kneeling over a heavy wooden block, black with aged blood. He smiled at her grimly as the executioner raised his ax, saying wryly in farewell, "fear not milady, what is death to us?"

She had no time to grieve, for no sooner had the ax fallen with a sickening thud than they pushed aside the body and forced her to kneel in the fresh blood, but it was over before she even had a moment to recoil in horror or grief, and he was right, wondrously so!

One moment Bayard lay crushed beneath the castle gate and the next he was somewhere else entirely, free of all pain and fear and confusion and sorrow. Wide green hills rolled off in every direction as far as the eye could see, great Mountains towered in the near distance, and a swift River roared through the very heart of that splendid country, but he was a mere wraith, a figure wrought of smoke or dark mist, able to view all that vast wilderness but unable to touch it, for it was far more Real than he had ever been.

"Do not weep, child," came a cheery voice, just behind the distraught shade, "for this is but the least of your inheritance!" The specter turned joyous and hopeful eyes towards that voice and fell to his knees in awe and dread, though it was but the least of all birds perched on a stone behind him. The magpie with the fathomless eyes shook His head grimly, "though you are in no condition to enjoy any of it! Come, cast aside what Was, embrace what will ever Be!"

For a moment or an eternity, the boy lost himself in the depths of those wondrous eyes, fully knowing his own weakness and wretchedness before it was suddenly cast beyond anyone's recollection, particularly His, and then all was Life and Light and Joy. "Much better," smiled the strange little fowl to the simple country boy that now knelt before Him, "now you are ready for an adventure, but what will you choose?" He turned His eyes towards the Mountains and all the unfathomable mysteries that lay beyond and then glanced in the opposite direction, where a heavy fog seemed to obscure the horizon towards which those green hills marched in their endless ranks.

The boy could not help but shudder as he too gazed upon the distant hills, for something dreadful lay upon that far horizon, something he had almost forgotten amidst all his natal Wonder and Joy. Something he loathed above all else, something he would spare others if he could, "and you will," said that avian Voice, "ride forth child, to spare men from both Death and Eternal Night!"

The boy leapt to his feet with an eager shout, as if he was some fell warrior charging into imminent battle, but he was just a common boy alone beside a great river, no more dangerous than a child with a stick. He smiled ruefully and wondered what was to come of the matter though there was no one there to see it, at least until a brilliant flash obscured his vision and there stood that strange girl and one of the palace guards with whom he had previously been friendly, but never had he seen such a dreadful sight, in the most wonderful sense of the word.

For a moment neither paid him or one another any heed, but rather glanced about in dazed wonder, taking in all that beauteous country with a happy sigh, as if they were long familiar with the sight but had thought never to see it again. At last they turned their gazes to one another and the dusty boy before them, sharing a wondering and amused glance before looking hopefully at Bayard. Said the astonished boy in awe, "what are you?!"

Megan momentarily studied her radiant form, clad perhaps as some fabulous elfin warrior out of mortal tales might be, though such folk of her former acquaintance would never don anything so strangely beautiful. She smiled wryly at the erstwhile guardsman and laughed, "we clean up rather well, it seems!"

"We do indeed," grinned Garren, eyeing the rather insignificant appearing boy speculatively, "well met, sir, well met indeed!"

"I think I'm dead," said Bayard rather wanly, "but other than that I am utterly confused."

"Don't be ridiculous," laughed the man, "you're far beyond such paltry mortal concerns as life and death! And quit gaping at us like freaks in a sideshow, for you're no better off yourself!"

"No," gasped Bayard, taking a step back as the intimidating vision addressed him, "what have I to do with you?" The man smiled eagerly, a truly terrifying sight in that countenance, at least to mortal sensibilities, and the boy did the only thing he could and tried to flee, forgetting the River fretted and fumed but two steps behind him. He plunged headlong therein, flailed about for a moment in utter panic, until its unfathomable and irresistible Peace washed over him and its frenzied waters, which were Life itself, washed him ashore. The dreadful man knelt beside that sheepish bit of flotsam, offering the boy a hand up.

Bayard took it and allowed the man to help him stand, gaping in wonder at the changes so suddenly wrought in his own physical appearance, for now he appeared as awful and radiant as either of his companions. "See," chuckled Garren, "now quit being ridiculous and let us see what else we can find washed up on this most wonderful shoreline. The boy gave him an impish smile in reply as they all three began walking along that endless bank, as if three picnickers on a summer holiday.

The little magpie had just flitted off and the horse was struggling to his feet when the apparitions appeared up river. He screamed in terror and flung himself headlong into the River, preferring to be crushed upon its rocky bed or drowned in its disquiet flow to whatever such terrifying specters might do, but the silly creature was beyond death, and could in nowise find relief therein. He gained his feet once more where it had cast him upon its bank, spreading his great wings in warning and then froze, quivering in wonder and delight and dread that it all might be a dream. Wings?! He had not borne wings since he had been cast out of the Mountains! And as this first shock wore off, he also recognized all three of the approaching horrors, which were nothing of the sort.

He snorted wryly and said, "funny meeting you lot here."

"Not at all, my friend," chuckled Garren warmly, "we've merely a few new recruits to admit to our ranks before we march off to war."

The Pegassi snorted wryly, "to think I could have spared myself all this trouble by agreeing to this from the first! But at least He was gracious and offers me another chance!" He snorted amusedly and eyed Bayard quizzically, "and what of this horse thief?"

"You mean regicidal traitor," amended the foiled villain with a laugh, "fleeing the scene was the least of my crimes." Sighed he heavily, "I wonder what has come of my friend?"

"Let's take a walk and mayhap we'll find out," suggested Megan, "it is good to be home!" The others, save Bayard, happily seconded her motion, eliciting a slight frown from the boy, added she with a gentle smile, "I forget you did not roam these lands in former days, my friend. I did tell you something of my original home, did I not?"

"And I believed you milady," said he in wonder, "but seeing it is quite another matter entirely!"

"You'd best get used to it," chuckled Garren, "you've fallen headlong into the stories!" They stopped as they crested a small hill and saw what awaited them in the dell below, said the man eagerly, "we'll wait here, it may be too much for your friend if all of us greet him at once."

"Why are you so thoughtful in his case but had no qualms about overwhelming me?" queried Bayard wryly.

Garren chuckled, "let's just say I've learned discretion in such cases, though unhappily my first few victims were not so fortunate."

"Ah!" smiled the boy, already halfway down the hill to accost his rather flummoxed friend, who was still blinking about as if unsure if he was asleep or awake, and if it were not all a very strange dream.

"Bayard!" gasped Ithril in wonder, "What has happened to you?! We are dead then..." But he could say no more, for his friend did not stop the momentum that carried him down the slope, rather he allowed it to carry both himself and the flabbergasted prince into the River that ever murmured beside them.

"You rascal!" said his former majesty in greatest joy as they now sat washed upon the near bank, "What have you done?"

"Me?" laughed Bayard easily, "It's none of our doing, but His! We've volunteered for something grand, what I know not, but it shall be an adventure indeed."

"I guess I did agree to this, whatever it is," he glanced wonderingly over the verdant hills and sighed, "though I fear it will be hard to leave this lovely place," he gazed grimly upon the ominously hazy distance, "for that."

"You'll manage quite well, sir," grinned Megan, alighting beside them, her smile became all the more glorious, "we did!"

"Milady!" said Ithril with a pleased gasp of surprise, "I was told you were dead!"

Garren chuckled lightly, "nay lad, you can't kill someone beyond death, at least not permanently."

"Beyond death," mused the erstwhile prince pensively, studying the strange gathering of folk about him, including a winged horse and an overly bold man he vaguely recognized as one of his father's guardsmen, but since he was a prince no longer, perhaps it was not an impertinence after all. He eyed the Pegassi keenly, "a winged horse?!"

"Yes," said he with a lazy flick of his tail, "there are all sorts of folk that dwell beyond what you mortal folk consider civilized lands."

"So hinted the lady," smiled the boy wryly, "but seeing is truly believing, well met sir, well met indeed!"

"Must we go back," sighed the girl heavily, "it is lovely to be home again."

"Home?" squawked that peculiar avian thing from a nearby tree, "Don't be ridiculous child, while it may be the country of your birth and where you spent your youth, you must venture Beyond the Mountains to find your true Home. Certainly, if you tire of this service, hie yourself thither, but you cannot tarry here indefinitely when you have a quest to be about in the mortal sphere."

She was about to reply but He was gone, eliciting a rueful smile and a bright laugh, "so what shall it be, my friends?"

"None of us have accomplished anything upon the quest He has set us," said Garren quietly, "and I'd rather not leave our task undone, whatever it be."

Ithril gained his feet, Bayard immediately following suit, laughed the erstwhile princeling, "hopefully it wasn't preventing the assassination of the crown prince!"

"What is to be done if you insist on associating with such insidious individuals, Highness?" retorted Bayard.

"I'm afraid it cannot now be helped," agreed Ithril with a grin, offering Megan a hand and saying, "milady?"

She laughed and took his hand, rising to her feet as well, "I cannot very well leave the world to languish in your inexperienced hands!"

"You're quite one to talk, milady!" smiled Garren, "Though I am not much better, but compared to the rest of you, I'm an old hand at this indeed."

"There you are!" said two familiar voices in unison, at least familiar to everyone but the former Prince and Bayard, as another Pegassi and a Unicorn came trotting eagerly up, at the latter the pair could only gape in wonder, even as the strange duo whinnied happily to see the former rebel numbered amongst them.

Said Erian conversationally to the renewed Pegassi, "well met cousin! Now we had best get back to our posts, for you lot certainly left a mess in your wake and I have no idea how we are to set everything aright?"

Garren shook his head and smiled grimly, "that's why we must return and find out!" He glanced significantly at each of them, silently asking if anyone was having second thoughts, but they all grinned eagerly and gazed boldly towards that distant, troubled horizon. "Let's mount up then," said he, suddenly aback his old friend, as Megan leapt aback the impatiently waiting Erian.

Bayard grinned nervously and asked of the eagerly dancing Pegassi, "you're sure this is appropriate?"

The winged horse snorted in vast amusement, "how else are we to accomplish aught in the mortal world, lad? Up you get, though it seems strange for a horse thief to ask thus!, at least we won't ride into absolute disaster this time, whatever betide."

Ithril was about to ask if he might likewise filch a ride from anyone, but with a rush and flutter of wings and a brilliant flash, there stood an anxious little mare, flitting about like a nervous hummingbird in her excitement, "I'm not too late, am I?" They all laughed at this, save the erstwhile Prince, who could not keep his smile from nearly splitting his face asunder. He bowed his head cordially to the filly and she whinnied eagerly, "let's be about it then!" She turned to the nearest of her quadrupedal companions and said brightly, "this is so very exciting, is it not?"

Erian whinnied his delight at her naivete, reared his excitement to be off, and suddenly the world spun about them, resolving itself immediately into a lonely road running through a night dark wood. "We're back," said he grimly, a common seeming horse once more, at least to the perception of anyone who might glimpse him. The whole lot exchanged an eager look as they trotted off into the midnight shadows, adventure bent. They had not gone far when they came upon a shadowy figure aback a weary horse.

"Tobin!" cried Megan eagerly, flinging herself from Erian's back and dashing to the lone rider.

The boy's pallid face, already wan in the moonlight, grew completely devoid of color, "you're dead!" His eyes grew wider and wider as he took in the entire company, adding desperately, "all of you!"

She laughed at him, as if he was utterly ridiculous, as she often had in the long forgotten days of their youth, this more than anything reassured him that she was not some undead specter come for his soul. Said she with a bright smile, "if you took our so-called mythology a little more seriously, you'd better understand the predicament in which you now find yourself. Now quit moping and tell us what is afoot?"

He sighed heavily, but figured there wasn't much he could do but comply with the insistent girl, but as he likewise had a pressing concern of his own, he kicked his horse into motion once more and continued on his way, the seeming wraiths easily keeping abreast of him. Megan hopped aback Erian and rode beside her brother, as he said wretchedly, "I'm undone!" But considering his present company, there was no pity or concern there for his own plight, merely an exchange of merry glances. He sighed grimly, "laugh if you must, but I suppose ghosts have little concern for the living!"

"We're not ghosts," said the girl vehemently, "and we certainly care about you and your problems, but we also know that death is not the terror mortals are wont to make it, rather it is a door into Greater Things." Here she added gravely, "at least for those who don't reject Him!"

"Such am I!" said he with a shudder, "And soon I will be betrayed by my former master and nothing but a memory, and a failure at that." He looked wretchedly at the Prince and said, "it was I that pilfered your friend's dagger and proved your undoing, Sire! And now my master wishes all such loose ends tied up, I fled the castle in the chaos, knowing my own life would soon be forfeit did I stay, but alas I have nowhere to go and I doubt I shall be long unpursued."

"So why not ask the Master's forgiveness and return to Him?" asked Megan in confusion.

"Can I?" said the boy in wonder, "Wretch that I am?"

"I did!" snorted Erian, prancing eagerly and for a moment unveiling his true form, "Did I not rebel against Him as well?"

"A Pegassi!" said Tobin in delight, "It wasn't all a dream?"

"No, silly!" laughed Megan brightly, "The dear creatures are common enough where we grew up, no matter if you don't remember it!"

"Yet I can go back?" gasped he.

Garren shook his head gravely, "none of us are allowed to go back to the village, if that is your question," added he in growing excitement, "but anyone and everyone does He call ever to Himself, to welcome us Home as dear and beloved children, rather than wretches, beggars, and foes."

"What a fool I have been!" sighed Tobin in wonder, "To wander from my first home and think this world had aught to offer instead; I have found only death, gladly will I embrace Life once more."

"You must go back and tell the King," said Megan grimly, "what really happened."

"But I'll die!" protested he, but catching their knowing, joyous eyes, he knew that wasn't a terrible thing, not in the least, rather defying his duty and disobeying once more would set him down a path that could only lead to eternal night and true death. Said he wistfully, but with an uncanny boldness underlying it, "so be it, my friends!" He met the eyes of those he had betrayed, but the words would not come.

They all joyously forgave him and assured him that better things were to come, no matter how dark the current night. Thus heartened, he turned his horse and rode back the way he had come. As the sun crested a distant ridge, Ithril said thoughtfully to Tobin, "think you that you can get into the palace and speak with the King ere something terrible befalls you?"

Tobin shook his head sadly, "nay Sire, your cousin has many henchmen and spies. I'll find a knife or arrow in my back long before I am ever granted an audience with the King."

The former Prince held out his hand and said, "then let the wings of a Pegassi avail you!" Tobin smiled despite his rising dread, took the proffered hand, and slipped behind the Prince aback the glorious beast, all three vanishing in a flutter of bright wings. The King had just risen from his bed but had gotten no further than staring unseeing out the window upon the nascent dawn.

He gasped to find himself not alone, especially with such a nonentity as what he vaguely recognized as a lackey of his brother's son and now heir to the throne. Said Tobin desperately, bowing deeply, before the King could react or call for his guards, "your son was murdered, as you well know, but it was not the fault of his dearest friend and companion as you think. It was I that stole the boy's knife, at the behest of Lord Nevin, and one of his henchman that threw the fatal blade."

"You will die a traitor's death!" cried the King, leaping at the boy in his wrath.

Tobin merely bowed his head, saying quietly, "this I know, Sire, but I also wish to help right the wrongs in which I was complicit. I will give Lord Nevin and all his associates into your hands, then you may do with me as you wish."

"Very well," said the pensive King, momentarily containing his fury, "but I do not promise to spare your life, even with your cooperation."

"Whether it is your hand or Nevin's," sighed Tobin, "my life is forfeit regardless!" The King nodded his understanding, called for the servant standing without, and summoned certain persons for an immediate conference. When the necessary personnel had gathered, Tobin told the full tale, listed all known accomplices and associates, and then bowed his head in dejection, as if anticipating the final fall of the ax.

The King said grimly, "there you have it gentlemen, please see that this schemer and all his allies are dealt with before breakfast!" They nodded their concurrence and swiftly left about their vital errand. The King turned to Tobin and said grimly, once they were again alone, "and what is to come of you?"

"Death, Sire," said Tobin heavily, but with a strangely eager undertone.

"Why?" asked the King in puzzlement, "Why betray your former master?"

Tobin could not help but smile ruefully, "he was only a temporary influence in my life Sire, rather I had betrayed my true Master before ever meeting him! But I have returned to His gracious keeping and thus I must set aright that which I helped tear down. Can you forgive me Highness?"

"Very strange," mused the King, "you tell me those old tales aren't just wishful thinking?"

"They are life indeed!" rejoiced Tobin.

"Then tell me, lad!" said the King with equal joy.

Said Tobin afterwards, "and your son is not ever lost to you, indeed, it was he that set me in your own bedchamber! He lives beyond death!"

"Curious," mused the King, "and if these stories of yours be true, which I now have no desire to doubt, then all men can do the same!"

"Truly," sighed Tobin wistfully, "which is why I do not fear the fate that is set me."

"You won't get off that easily, lad," said the King in eager menace, "I've been deprived of not one but two heirs by your interference, so you'd best do your duty in this matter as well." The boy blanched white as the joyously laughing monarch continued, "yes, lad, you can't so easily quit the mortal world and your attendant duties, as you must be King after me!" Tobin fainted dead away, the King laughing all the more.

A Walk in the Woods

Bayard sat in the gardens, bored out of his mind as he watched the Prince stroll the paths with one of the many young ladies upon the King's list of approved companions and potential brides, mused he wryly that at least it wasn't a dance, here he could enjoy the sunshine and fresh air and flowers, rather than the stifling heat and suffocating scents of a ball so clogged with people one could hardly move. A sudden movement in an adjacent bush caught his eye and a smile lit his face as he watched a magpie flit out of the surrounding herbage and perch pertly upon the stone bench beside him. Said he grinningly to the bird, "a lovely day, is it not?" Its sudden answer drove the mirth right off his face, replaced with utter astonishment.

Replied that keen-eyed, avian thing, "why posit such a question if you do not expect an answer?"

"Quite," said the boy ruefully, wondering what else this sagacious little fowl might have to impart.

"No," said the bird archly, "we shall not bother discussing the weather, such an obvious topic is truly tedious and is best reserved for awkward and indifferent acquaintances." He caught the amazed but not unamused eyes of the boy and said, serious as death but bold as life, "will you?"

The boy blinked, would he what? He gazed into those fathomless eyes, wondering what the little creature was about, only to realize that this was no mere creature, but rather something or rather Someone, totally beyond his comprehension and experience. He shivered in wonder and dread, knowing innately that he wanted nothing more than to gaze into the unfathomable depths of those eyes for all eternity.

"Not yet child," whispered He, "not yet, for have I not asked something of you?"

"Yes," said the boy whole heartedly, not knowing the details, but knowing he could trust this One in all things and even beyond them.

"Excellent," said the little bird, hopping back towards His bush and sending a little shiver of excitement up the boy's spine as he flushed with pleasure in having pleased Him, "it shall be a little perplexing, perhaps even terrifying at first, but soon enough you will understand." The boy sighed heavily as He vanished into the bush and from his perception, but smiled ruefully to know he was never alone or forgotten, no matter how it felt or seemed at any particular moment and in that he took great comfort.

Perplexing? Terrifying? He glanced about at the familiar and rather dull gardens all about him, what of interest had or could ever happen here? He smiled eagerly, wondering what adventure had been set him, as suddenly a yearning for things beyond this meager existence, what mortal men called life, dawned in his heart; if only he could but peek behind the veil of time and glimpse for a moment whatever lurked beyond it! He frowned slightly, just what had he agreed to? But that most intriguing topic must wait, for the Prince had tired of his companion and their perambulations and it was time for something else, anything else! Bayard leapt to his feet and went to attend his friend and master, as was ever his wont.

Yawned the Prince expansively, his face flushed slightly with the day's rising heat, "I hope you had a more interesting hour than I have passed?"

Bayard fell into step beside him and mused, "indeed, it has been an intriguing morning! I saw a bird..." He trailed off lamely at both his friend's apparent indifference and suddenly knowing he must not broach the topic to just anyone, even his dearest friend.

"You and your nature studies!" chuckled the Prince, waving off the topic as if he feared it might put him to sleep for a hundred years, "Even these witless young females that I am forced to keep company with are slightly more interesting."

"To each his own, Highness," grinned Bayard at the long familiar argument upon which they agreed to disagree.

"Just wait until your father decides to find you a proper wife!" retorted his Highness jovially, "Then perhaps you'll pity me in my plight!"

"I'm too busy feeling sorry for myself, Sire," laughed Bayard lightly, "at least you get a little exercise and something resembling pleasant company out of it whilst I merely have the pleasure of watching you do it."

"I suppose you have the right of it," grinned the Prince archly, "though perhaps it is the ladies we should be pitying, having to put up with me as they must!"

"Finally, some sense," smiled Bayard brightly, his face fell as he asked, "when is the next Royal Debacle?"

"The next Royal Ball," corrected his friend, unable to hide his amusement under a bland countenance, "will be in a fortnight."

"I wonder if I could get you married off in the interim to spare myself the experience?" mused Bayard speculatively.

"Then you'd have all the nuisance of a Royal Wedding," cautioned the Prince.

"Ugh," grunted Bayard, as if he had been kicked in the stomach, "a Ball it is then!" He frowned suspiciously, "and I suppose then I would get to be the Royal Babysitter thereafter?"

"Precisely!" grinned the Prince like immortal Spring.

"Have you considered remaining a confirmed bachelor?" retorted Bayard.

"And allow my royal cousins a chance at the throne?" shuddered the Prince in dread.

"Indeed!" said Bayard in horror, "What am I thinking?"

"You aren't," smiled the Prince, "but then you are a mere lackey and bootlicker, thinking is my job, yours is but to agree with me, no matter what nonsense I spout."

"No wonder I love this job," said Bayard dryly.

"You'd love it more if you had less sense," laughed his friend, "but come, my Royal Appetite must soon be appeased or my Royal Crankiness will show itself forthwith."

"A true royal emergency," bowed Bayard deeply, his arm extended as if to usher his Highness back to the Palace with utmost haste and propriety. The Prince grinned at his antics and happily complied therewith, but Bayard stood a moment, stymied and staring at his extended hand, blinking at it stupidly like a mole in the sun. He shook himself, smiled wryly, and hastened after his friend, apparently in desperate need of lunch himself!

Once safely within the shadowed corridors and out of the sun's noonday brightness, Bayard glanced again at his hand, certain he must be seeing things, but there it was, even more obvious in the ambient gloom of the relatively dark halls. He anxiously felt about his person, smiled grimly, and slipped on the pair of gloves he had happily secreted about his person, hoping to hide the phenomenon, whatever it was, as best he could. They went in to lunch, the Prince oblivious and lost in his own musings, Bayard unable to eat, merely pushing the food thoughtlessly around on his plate. What was it? What did it mean?

He smiled grimly as they rose after the meal, puzzling and terrifying indeed, what else could it be? Well, he was forewarned, so hopefully that would minimize the terror at least, but it was certainly confounding, but so too could he trust the One who had brought him into this enigma, and one day, hopefully soon, all would be made clear, he need only continue as he had begun. He glanced again at his gloved hand, could he?

"You seem rather perplexed, my friend," said the Prince gently, as they found themselves alone in a quiet corridor.

"Indeed, Highness," said Bayard quietly, "but it is a mere trifle, what would you like to do this afternoon?"

"There's a foreign Princess my father has invited to the next ball," said the Prince rather grimly, "I suppose I had best read up on her homeland lest I look a fool when we meet and are expected to spend the better part of her visit together."

"The Library," mused Bayard, strangely eager, "lead on Highness!"

"I suppose you have something to look up about your little avian friend?" retorted the Prince with a laugh, "At least you need not be bored the entirety of the day!"

"Quite," agreed Bayard, following his friend to the Royal Library for a few hours of remedial education, though Bayard's topic of interest was not natural history.

"Fairy tales?" said the Prince in surprise, settling beside his friend with a stack of books relating to Glopenstein.

"I'm intrigued," countered Bayard, adding archly, "and it is certainly a more interesting topic of study than your country of interest or anything of avian descent."

"I most certainly agree with you," laughed the Prince grimly, "and gladly would I trade topics with you!"

"Not unless you plan on courting an elfin lady," smiled Bayard.

"Back to the grindstone then," repined the Prince, opening a book with as much vim as a man mounting the gallows.

"As you wish, Sire," grinned Bayard, only a little guiltily.

"Nay dear friend," sighed his Royal Highness, "as it must be!"

That night, alone in his quarters, Bayard removed his glove, finally able to study what he had thought must be a hallucination resulting from sunstroke or something equally sensible, but then he had had a conversation with a bird that was not a bird that very morning, so anything was possible on this eldritch day. He had found little in his study of the fairy tales, at least pertaining to his own predicament, though certainly many other intriguing stories had absorbed his waking hours until the Prince had given up his studies and declared it time for supper, to which they dutifully went. He looked again at the hand, radiant as a star amid the candles' muted glow.

What was he to do? He couldn't always wear a glove, what if someone noticed? He stared grimly at the glowing appendage, willing it to normalcy, and to his utter surprise, the light went out as suddenly as a candle in a gust of wind. He gasped in surprise and no little horror, what had he done? He frowned and suddenly there it was, bright as the morning star crowning a grey dawn. He smiled eagerly and concentrated, soon he was able to douse or rouse the light with a thought. He nodded contentedly to himself and began his preparations for bed, gasping to see that his hand was not the only affected spot upon his person. Two or three miniscule glowing patches, as if he was some sort of luminous leper, appeared in various spots, but quickly vanished as he quenched that adorning his hand. He shook his head in wonder, blew out the candles, and crawled into bed, but sleep was long in coming that night. What had happened, what did it mean?

Bayard had no more answers in the morning, but his nagging hunch was confirmed when he willed his hand alight, for the old spots had grown larger while another three had appeared during the course of the night. "Good thing I can hide them," said he to the air, "else I couldn't go out in public!" Puzzling indeed! He smiled wryly and began his morning preparations, wondering what the Prince would say if he knew. His smile was bright indeed, almost as radiant as his hidden spots, when he considered just who might have an answer. He hurriedly finished and made his way to one of the most awkwardly located rooms in the Palace, hoping to have a word with the man before the Prince required his presence.

He knocked eagerly on the door, hoping the man was in. The impatient young lord was about to knock again when he heard movement within, staying his overeager hand. The door opened and a rather surprised, but not unkind, man in his middle years beckoned for the young man to come in and make himself comfortable in the miniscule chamber. "Forgive my surprise, milord," said he with the proper courtesies, "but I rarely have visitors, and never from the noble elite!"

"I am but the youngest son of the least of all lords!" protested Bayard, "And you are a very Advisor to the King!"

The man grinned at this depiction of himself, replying in kind, "then I am likewise the least of all advisors! I do not remember the last time the King requested my presence or insight."

"Very well," grinned Bayard, "let us forgo all formality and merely speak as two common men."

"Quite," agreed his companion, taking the nearest chair and offering the other to his companion, but Bayard preferred to stand, his host's geniality suddenly replaced by a questioning and troubled countenance.

Said the boy quietly, eyeing the man, as if trying to gauge how he would take the imminent tale, "you are learned in all manner of lore?"

The man smiled slightly, "certain aspects of it, yes."

"The old tales," began the boy, "ancient myth and legend?"

"Certainly," nodded he, "what troubles you lad?"

"I think I met Him in the garden yesterday," began the boy, pacing like a caged beast, "guised as a mere bird."

The man sat back in his chair and thoughtfully scratched his bearded chin, saying at last, "curious but not unheard of, what did He say?"

"He refused to discuss the weather," grinned the boy, desperately trying to break the tension that seemed to be building, whether in his own breast or in the little room, he knew not, but feeling certain that something, wondrous or terrible, was imminent as the rising dawn. He took a deep breath and plunged ahead, as if into icy water, "then He asked if I would. He gave me no details, but I could do naught but consent. He promised confusion and perhaps a little fear in what was to come, but eventually all would be made clear. I wondered at this, but had no idea what to expect. After lunch I began noticing something odd, I spent all afternoon scouring the library but found nothing to avail me." He glimpsed desperately at the man, "you are my last hope."

The man snorted a laugh, "nay lad, I might be your last hope of mortal information on the subject, but He knows full well what is to come and as you said yourself, you need but wait and trust."

The boy grinned wryly, "quite true sir, now if only I could live by such wisdom as easily as you remind me of it!"

"That would be the fear He promised, my friend," said the man cordially, "certainly not unexpected in such a circumstance, now what is this oddity you speak of?"

Bayard unveiled his spots, noting several new splotches, making him look like some tropical hunting cat bedecked with stars rather than fur. Said he uneasily, "have you ever seen the like? It started with one hand but has progressed to this overnight!"

"What happens when they cover you utterly?" mused the man rhetorically.

"That's what I was hoping you could tell me," said the boy plaintively.

The man shook his head sadly, "I am sorry lad, I've never seen or even heard of the like and I've read and researched many strange topics and tales."

"What is to be done?" asked Bayard anxiously.

"You must trust and be patient," said he.

"I knew you were going to say that," laughed the boy ruefully, but there was relief and hope mixed therein.

"He's called you to something," nodded the man, "something quite intriguing by the look of it, but it will only be revealed when and as He wills it."

"Thank you," said the boy, "I'd like to speak again, on other topics, when the Prince can spare me?"

"I would be delighted," agreed the man whole-heartedly, "and I'll see if I can discover anything about your predicament in the interim."

"I very much appreciate it," said the boy in relief, offering his parting courtesies, knowing the Prince would soon be abroad and expecting his presence. The man smiled brightly as the boy hastened from the room, dowsing those strange lights as he fled into the hall. What had he embroiled himself in? He soon followed, but turned his steps towards the Library rather than the Prince's preferred breakfast room.

"I need to get out of the palace," said the Prince, over his second cup of tea, "let's go for a ride!"

"Certainly," agreed Bayard eagerly, sharing a conspiratorial smile with his companion, "but let us fly before the Steward or any of your menial overseers catches wind of the idea or comes up with a better use for your day, at least to their understanding." They exchanged an impish grin, set down their tea cups, and dashed from the room as quickly as propriety allowed, careful not to look too eager to be about their business, lest they attract well-meaning but intrusive attention.

"Let's go!" said the Prince, scrambling into his saddle as he caught a glimpse of a certain tutor, hastily approaching, out of the corner of his eye. Bayard was already mounted and kicked his horse to a cantor as they dashed for the gate, leaving the tutor blinking confusedly that anyone would intentionally flee an opportunity to learn something, most especially from himself, it must be a mistake! Nodding to himself, he trundled off to do something almost as important as tutoring the Prince, not understanding in the least what the boy thought could be a more important use of his day, especially aback so fearsome a thing as a horse, books were safer by far!

The boys had not escaped as easily as they had hoped, but those sent in pursuit were unlikely to interfere in their business, rather they would follow at a polite distance and make sure a horde of rabid squirrels, or a disaster of similar proportions, did not make off with the very Prince of the realm upon this reckless excursion outside the safety of the palace walls. "It's the Captain himself!" remarked the Prince to Bayard as they slowed to a more sensible pace, that they not tire the horses ere the day had even begun.

Bayard grinned, "I'm sure it is only because he and his companion were the only ones mounted when our flight commenced; at least we escaped your tutor!"

"Better a day in the library lingering over my current topic of interest rather than an hour with that old babbler," sighed the Prince in dread, "perhaps when I marry, such tedious learning shall be behind me?"

Bayard smiled wryly, "nay Sire, then you'll have Advisors dogging your heels at all hours offering their wisdom and services instead of one old tutor with delusions of grandeur."

The Prince's lighthearted retort died aborning as a mask of calm disappointment spread across his features like an approaching storm. Bayard frowned slightly but directed his gaze to see what it was that had discomfited his friend, and so too died his own nascent mirth, for the Prince's most disagreeable and grasping cousin was swiftly approaching. The friends exchanged a frantic, almost giddy look asking if they might flee this pursuer as they had the meddling old tutor, but this was no minor court official they could offend at will, rather his father was a powerful man and such disrespect could cause serious problems for themselves, the King, and even the entire realm. So they drew rein and uneagerly waited his approach, the pair of guardsmen drawing silently aside to allow him easy passage, their own faces grim.

Said Tyne eagerly, as he trotted between the pair, answering their questioning looks, "what are you chaps about? Certainly not a hunting party, what with no dogs or servants or merry companions! Perhaps a secret and dire quest?"

The Prince shook his head, smiling in spite of himself at the other boy's eager queries, as he kicked his horse into motion, "we merely fled our old tutor, eager for a day unencumbered by royal duties and drudgery with little idea whither we would fly, only certain we must."

"Then it is a very good thing I caught you," replied Tyne, "for I have just the quest." He glanced significantly at Bayard and the tailing guardsmen, "though it might be best if it was just you and me, it might well be fatal to the rest of the party, not that it would be anyone's loss but their own."

"You cannot mean?!" said the Prince in wonder, "Those old tales cannot be true?"

"That our grandmother was of elvish descent?" smirked Tyne, "That is quite true, and when our grandfather died, she hied herself home to the Fairywood and has remained there ever since, and as her descendants, we have elven blood in our veins and can thus dare the Fairywood without fear." He glanced derisively at Bayard and the guardsmen, who had drawn closer as the Prince motioned for them to do so, that they might have some say in the matter, continued he, "but why should men of noble and even fairy blood, mingle with these lesser fools? Dismiss them and let us be about this adventure in earnest!"

"They are certainly free to go for all of me," said the Prince slowly, "but I fear you do each of them a great disservice in assuming he would not rather die than abandon his duty or back down from such an adventure." His eyes narrowed as he spitted his cousin with a skeptical stare, "what is all this about? It isn't a mere lark!"

"Certainly not," sniffed Tyne in disgust, "my father sends me forth to find power, wealth, or perhaps a bride, something to increase my influence, value, and position within this pathetic little realm of ours. While I have no wish to share power, it would not be unwise to take a companion along. Besides," smiled he in pure malice, "you didn't have anything better to do!"

"Let's go home, Sire," said Bayard, boldly interrupting this much greater and far more powerful young lord.

The Prince raised his hand to silence his friend, as he said thoughtfully, "no, I believe this thing must be done. I will accompany my cousin, but I cannot ask any of you to accompany me, it might very well be death for the lot of you, if the tales be true!"

The Captain of the Royal Guard shook his head gravely, "that may be so Sire, but your father will certainly see to that if we let you venture forth alone upon such a quest! We'll dare the Wood rather than your father's wrath, but we would follow you regardless, for we can but do our duty."

Bayard snorted wryly, "and I am most certainly coming along, even were it not my duty or for the sake of our friendship, I am quite eager to share this adventure with you Sire!"

The Prince smiled warmly at his companions, touched by their sincerity and noble sentiments, but his expression grew solemn as he replied to his cousin, "I believe we are agreed, Tyne, lead on." The boy smiled in wicked glee but said nothing, sharply reining his horse around and galloping into the tame woodland edging the road upon which they stood. They exchanged a curious but grim smile before urging their horses after.

The horses had gone fewer than a dozen strides when they stopped suddenly upon the brink of something they could feel, if not clearly discern by sight or smell or any other common sense. "The Fairywood," breathed Tyne in dread and awe, as he could suddenly see those ancient, hoary trees looming before them.

The Captain shivered, saying quietly, "I can't see it milord, but I can certainly feel it." He bowed low in his saddle to the Prince, "we are yours to the death Sire."

The Prince licked his lips nervously, but an eager light burned in his eyes as he gazed at his friends, "this is my doom, gentlemen, and your own thereby, but glad am I to share it with you."

Bayard's mortal flesh pricked and tingled in dread, but those light-wrought spots, which now composed greater than half his person, were as bright and steady as ever, though carefully hidden from sight. One now covered half his face, including one eye, leaving the other as it had ever been. That eye, like the Captain's own, was blind to what lay directly before them, but the other could apparently see as easily as those with fairy blood in their veins. He bowed his head to the Prince and said not uneagerly, "lead on Highness!"

The cousins exchanged an eager but anxious look before urging their horses forward, the beasts reluctantly complied, not liking the strange sensation, but unable to see or smell anything out of the ordinary, eventually they grew used to the phenomenon. The cousins gasped a little, as if they had plunged into icy water, but a terrified yelp escaped both guardsmen as they followed closely. Bayard just stared in horror and wonder at himself and the guardsmen. While the Prince and Tyne seemed unchanged, the soldiers seemed wrought of thin mist, as if they were ghosts or phantoms out of the stories. Bayard gazed quizzically at his own form, for he was a mishmash of the two, a piebald of mist and solidity, though the misty portions seemed to be steadily growing smaller as the light wrought, and seemingly solid patches, expanded.

"This is certainly a weird place," said the Prince grimly, taking in his companions' changed forms.

"They were warned," hissed Tyne, urging his horse onwards, little caring for the peril of lesser folk.

Said Bayard quietly to the guardsmen and the Prince, "I remember reading a story just yesterday about such a phenomenon. Apparently mortal men who dare the Fairywood must seek an audience with one of its ruling authorities within two days of their entry, lest they fade to nothingness. If they are not granted permission to abide herein, they will fade completely from this reality. Nor can we return to the mortal world without gaining such permission without suffering similar consequences."

"Who cares what comes of you ghosts?" spat Tyne, their little council forcing him to tarry lest he lose his only mortal companion in this eldritch Wood, "Quit your fussing and let's be on our way!"

Said the Prince gravely, though he frowned slightly at Bayard's mottled appearance, "I will do all I can for you, my friends!" He turned his horse and all followed the impatient Tyne. The cousins were lost to their own thoughts as Bayard drew back slightly to consult with the guardsmen upon their predicament.

Kipril, the Lieutenant, eyed the boy speculatively, as Garren asked, "I understand our situation and that of our noble companions, but what is your strange tale?"

Bayard shook his head in wonder, "He drew me into a conundrum ere this little excursion, promising it would be quite puzzling at the first, which it most certainly is, and this strange Wood has only made it more so." The guardsmen heard the emphasis on that particular pronoun and exchanged a curious glance, as Bayard gazed ahead to make sure their companions were still busy with their own thoughts, he raised a hand and said quietly, briefly revealing his own conundrum, at least on that particular hand, "it has been gradually spreading over my entire person, soon it will consume me utterly."

"And those are the solid spots," mused the Captain, "so whatever it is or means, at least we know it is a thing more real than or from beyond our mortal reality."

"But what happens when they cover him entirely?" asked the Lieutenant with a pensive frown.

"I would guess he would cease to be a part of our reality," said Garren quietly, "save upon those errands the Master sets him."

"And what of us?" asked Kipril uneasily, gazing through his own hand.

Garren smiled grimly, "unless some Queen of the Fairies sees fit to pardon our trespass, I believe our fate shall be the same. Where is your faith, my friend?"

Kipril glanced about in trepidation, but his courage had not wholly abandoned him, as he said, "I was quite ready to die valiantly in defense of the Prince's life, but this was not the battle I had imagined. It is a strange thought to merely fade into nothingness rather than to fight for one's life and all you love."

"I quite understand," said Bayard grimly, "but are there not greater things beyond all this, even more wondrous than this eldritch Wood?"

"Amen," said Garren, an eager light in his solemn eyes, "but where stands the Prince upon this matter?" He eyed Tyne's back grimly, "I doubt his cousin means any of us any good!"

"No," said Bayard, instinctively clutching at his sword, "I do not know what he believes or doesn't, he knows the old tales, but doesn't seem to consider them a vital part of his own life." He smiled ruefully, "of course neither did I till I met Him personally!"

"How long do you have?" asked Kipril.

Bayard studied himself momentarily before he said, "I think only a few hours until I am completely consumed." He smiled wryly and added, "at least I'll then be solid."

"I wonder if that matters in the least," mused Garren, "save from our immediate fate do we not gain a reprieve. Do you think they welcome mortal creatures into this Wood of theirs, even with elvish ancestry?"

His question gained no reply, for suddenly the party was forced to a standstill as a company of elvish warriors surrounded them, weapons at the ready. "Who are you?" demanded their Captain.

Tyne sat his saddle, snarling silently, but the others bowed low, before the Prince said politely, "a party of men seeking a relative."

"That would explain why two of you are solid, including the discourteous one," mused the Captain, "but what of him?"

Bayard smiled in spite of himself, "I am as puzzled as you, sir!"

"Who is it you seek?" asked the elf, addressing the Prince once more, as Bayard's predicament seemed a riddle with no obvious answer.

Said Ithril, "our grandmother, once the Queen of our realm, is said to have returned to her people upon the death of her husband."

"You are bold to come seeking her thus," said the not unimpressed elf, "and as such, it shall be her duty to decide your fates, come, it is a long journey and your companions have little time." He said something in his own language, something Bayard's light-wrought ear could discern as, "we will escort them to the Palace," but was so much gibberish to his unaffected one. The party formed up around the intruders and they set forth with all haste, Tyne muttering imprecations under his breath but the others coming along without fuss.

The Captain of the Elven host rode on one side of the mortal Prince as Bayard rode on Ithril's far side. Said he cordially, "what would you ask of your esteemed grandmother?"

Ithril shook his head, "save to spare the lives of my companions, I little know. My cousin proposed the outing and I felt I must come."

"What would your cousin ask of so noble a lady?" asked the elf captain quietly.

Ithril shivered, "that I know not, but it would not surprise me were it ignoble indeed."

"And what of you?" asked the captain again of Bayard, who was very nearly solid by this time, "Have you any relations within the Wood?"

"None that I am aware of," said the boy, "rather I stumbled into a strange adventure before ever this one was proposed."

The Prince's eyes narrowed, "what are you talking about?"

"That bird in the gardens," said Bayard uneasily at the betrayed look gleaming in his friend's eyes, "it wasn't a mere bird..." With a gasp, he fell senseless from his saddle as if hit suddenly in the head with a stone.

Ithril bounded out of his saddle and was immediately beside his stricken friend, who was dazedly blinking back to waking life, having strayed for a moment into whatever awaited beyond it. "That bird?" demanded the Prince of his now completely solid friend.

"It was Him," said Bayard in awe, gazing at his solid hand, knowing beneath his mortal disguise, his entire being was wrought of that wonderful, terrible light.

"Now there is a fairy tale indeed!" said the elf in wonder.

"Speak for yourself," grinned Bayard jovially, as he waved off his friend's concerned hands and stood, "but two days ago I thought all your own folk naught but a fairy tale!" He turned to Ithril and said, "I am quite well, Sire, but what of you?"

"Me?!" said the boy in wonder, "You are the one who just fell senseless from his saddle."

"Yes," said Bayard quietly, "but very soon each of us will face a similar fate, my friend, and I would have you ready."

"Ready for what?" frowned the elf captain.

"The moment when our souls are demanded of each of us," said Bayard grimly, gaining his saddle even as the Prince remounted his own.

"Those are just tales!" protested the elf.

"Are they?" countered Bayard.

As the party set off anew, the elf shook his head, "it is the preference of my people to think that way, certainly," said he uneasily, "but perhaps they are no more mere tales than the existence of the elves is to mortal men? Our disbelief will not negate the Truth." His eyes suddenly narrowed as he scanned the company, "where is your vile cousin?"

"He slipped away in the confusion surrounding the accident, sir," said one of the elfin guards uneasily, "would you have us pursue?"

"It would little avail you," said Bayard knowingly, though he had no idea what he was talking about, he knew it true, "he'll find us when he is ready, if we give chase we will only fall into the hands of the fell things he hopes to find within this Wood."

"We must get these others to the Palace," said the elf captain with a grim shake of his head, "that is our primary duty." The party again set off before he confronted Bayard, "now tell us of these old tales of yours that you insist are true!" The boy grinned broadly and began, the entire company listening eagerly in.

The elf captain suddenly shook himself, as if he had fallen asleep in his saddle. He caught the eyes of each man in the party and asked quietly, but brimming with anticipation, "will each of you agree to come without fuss or protest?"

"Certainly," said the four together.

"Excellent," said the elf captain, motioning that his second should attend him, saying quietly to the astonished elfin lieutenant, "take our company and continue the patrol, I will escort our captives to the Palace." The young elf blinked in shock, but quickly saluted and ordered the rest of the company upon their way, soon leaving the confounded men alone with their broadly smiling elfin companion, said he brightly, "this way, if you please?"

"I do not understand," said the flummoxed Prince.

The elf eyed Bayard merrily, "your stories have made me a renegade and an outcast amongst my people, we go to stand dutifully before them and accept the consequences of our actions."

"What?!" said Ithril in wonder.

The elf smiled wryly, "believing such things is not considered proper amongst my folk, hence I must apprise them of the situation and await their decision upon the matter. Or if you prefer, I am as much a prisoner as any of you."

"You would give up everything for a well told tale?!" said Ithril in horror.

"Did not your friend?" asked the elf quietly.

Ithril eyed Bayard speculatively, making his friend very uncomfortable under the scrutiny, but at last the Prince said, "he has at that, come man, unmask yourself!"

"I dare not Sire," said Bayard plaintively, "it might well be dangerous and I know neither the consequences nor how to control it, once unleashed."

The Prince's eyes narrowed, "but did you not show some part of it to the guardsmen previously?"

Bayard dropped his gaze, intrigued by his horse's scruffy mane, "I was then a mortal man, merely afflicted with a strangely glowing pox, but it has since consumed me utterly and I know nothing of my proclivities or nature or the danger I might pose to others."

"Easy my friend," said Ithril in some disappointment but with no loss of the warmth or concern he ever showed for his friend, "I understand, but how is it you could give up everything you once cherished for this strange and unknown condition?"

Bayard smiled ruefully, but it was full of eager joy, eliciting no little envy in the hearts of all his companions, as he said, "He asked, after looking into those eyes, what else could I say? What had only been a story was suddenly more real than the world around me, even than my own soul, for is He not the Source of all that is?"

"I want that too," sighed the Prince heavily, "this confidence in things not seen!"

"You can have it, my friend," said Bayard eagerly, adding with a wry smile, "but first you must accept the old stories and be willing to abandon all that has gone before."

The Prince glanced about at the whelming Wood and said quietly, "I believe I have done just that by entering this eldritch forest." He looked to their elven companion, who nodded his head solemnly in agreement. "Very well," smiled Ithril grimly, but echoing Bayard's own joy therein, "is it not the foolish things that will overcome the world?" They shared a bright laugh and continued on their way, as if on their way to a picnic rather than to stand as trespassers before a magistrate.

Said Bayard at last, as their horses continued tirelessly along that unending path, "are there greater or darker evils within this Wood than the general inhabitants are wont to be?"

"Yes and no," shuddered the elf pensively, "for we speak as little of the Enemy and his minions as we do of the Master and His ways, both are considered nothing but fairy tales or wishful thinking of the mortal race, either way, unfit for our attention or consideration. But there are tales of darker things beneath the trees than any shadow cast by a living creature, immortal though he be. I believe there are darker things to which we have been willfully blind, just as we have been to the brighter things. As such, they may intrude themselves within the Wood, but they are not an official part of it, much as they must trespass upon the mortal sphere whenever the chance presents itself."

Bayard unwittingly reached for his sword, a dreadful fire suddenly alight in his eyes, as he said, "indeed they do, sir!" He suddenly smiled sheepishly as the spell seemed to pass, leaving only their astonished gazes to say it had ever been, "forgive me, I do not know what came over me!"

"Just your duty lad," chuckled Garren delightedly, his amusement utterly breaking the astonished trance that still ensorcelled their companions.

"Quite," said Bayard, before they all burst out laughing at themselves.

"I forget what Joy is," said the elf wistfully, once they had regained some control of their faculties, "and its lesser cousins: mirth and fun! Such have been resigned to the bin of lesser things, like all the old tales. Thank you for restoring it to me!"

"Don't thank us," said Kipril, "it is all His doing," which elicited an even deeper grin on the elf's countenance, but the whole party grew suddenly solemn as the Captain of the Guard spoke.

"What can we expect when we stand before these authorities of yours?" asked Garren, raising an ever more translucent hand as if it was evidence in a major trial.

The elf captain shook his head grimly, "that I know not. That the Prince has a relative within the highest ranks of the nobility may help his case, but for the rest of us, banishment into oblivion is likely all we can expect."

"You'll simply fade away like us?" said the Lieutenant in concern.

The elf shrugged, "they will see my natal faith as a dereliction of duty of the worst sort, something akin to being born a mortal man, at least in their minds, and daring to trespass within the Wood, thus they will likely treat me as such." His sad smile deepened as he added, "but I hear there are greater things beyond this fickle world we call home?" At Bayard's awe-filled nod of confirmation, they could not help but exchange a wondering smile.

"I envy you my friends," said the Prince wistfully.

"I did not say you would be spared such a fate yourself, sir" grinned the elf, "merely that having a kinswoman within the ruling circles might help."

"Much better," laughed the Prince in relief, knowing how little such a circumstance would avail him at home, how much less in this persnickety realm? But there was no time for a response, for suddenly each hand was grasping at its sword hilt even as the other drew rein, while their eyes searched the twilit gloom beneath the trees for some sign of the menace they felt suddenly pushing in around them from all sides.

Bayard vanished in a flash of light, his scream of pain suddenly ending in an eerie silence, as an arrow took him in the back, but an evil laugh soon filled the vacancy as a monster wrought of dark mist and naked, rotting bone stepped into the glade. "Are there any other abnormalities with your former companions?" creaked the fiend like an old door on screeching hinges.

Tyne stepped out of the shadows, grinning triumphantly at his astonished cousin, before addressing the fell thing, "no sir, my cousin shares my elvish blood, the elf is obviously a resident of this place, and the two guards are quickly fading to nothingness; only that fool you just vanquished posed a riddle of any sort."

"Good," croaked the monstrosity, "bring the mortal prince and the elfling, I have no use for those wraiths!" Suddenly the glade was alive with writhing forms wrought of dark smoke with flaming embers for eyes, as the infernal creatures latched onto the named individuals and the whole party vanished like smoke dissipating on a stiff breeze, leaving the shuddering horses with their vacant saddles and the fading guardsmen alone in that eerie silence.

"We must go after them!" protested Kipril, reaching for his sword.

"What good would it do?" asked his Captain, now barely visible.

"There must be something we can do?!" protested the equally transparent Lieutenant, but there came no answer, for Garren had faded entirely from that plane of reality, but then there was no longer a Lieutenant left to mourn his passing, for Kipril too had faded from mortal existence.

The infinite night at last gave place to a murky twilight as Bayard sat up, trying to remember where he was or even who. He seemed to be clad as a knight arrayed for burial, still clutching the great sword in his hands that had been laid upon his breast. His sense of the ridiculous soon dispersed the confounding clouds that had been obfuscating his befuddled mind. He shoved the sword into its sheath and leapt off the stone bier that was to have been his eternal bed, wondering where the Prince had gone and eager to do something about it.

A sense of imminent menace suddenly filled the crumbling ruin as he crouched behind a crazily slanting bit of wall. The next moment the overgrown courtyard was filled with smoky wraiths, writhing in a vile ecstasy of anticipation, the Prince and elf captain struggling in their midst as a horror wrought of rotten bones and black mist stepped into the center of the seething chaos, Tyne beside the fell thing.

"Here then is your chance," rumbled the thing like distant thunder.

Tyne actually quivered, "I must become a thing like you?"

"No!" snarled the monster, pointing towards the writhing mass "You fool, you'll become a thing like them! It takes years to earn your way into such a prestigious position."

Tyne shuddered and took a step back, "no, this isn't what I was promised."

"What means a promise to the Father of Lies?" grated that fell voice, "You will either feed my pets or become one of them!"

"No," said Tyne, trembling in utter terror, "I want no part in you or your master."

The thing would have smiled had it lips, but the effect was just as chilling, as it laughed darkly and pointed towards the petrified Tyne. But before the horrors could latch on to the screaming boy and utterly absorb his substance, an awful light filled the ruined courtyard, reducing the wraiths to nothingness while Bayard drew his sword and leapt upon the temporarily blinded fiend, reducing him to a pile of ash.

"What happened, I'm blind!" wailed Tyne pathetically.

"You'd best veil yourselves, gentlemen," said Bayard, with a welcoming and joyous smile, to the widely grinning guardsmen, who stood glowing like the sun in the midst of the gloomy ruin. They exchanged a curious look, but the next moment, stood there as drab and dull as the mossy stonework surrounding them. Only then did the boy reach out and touch each mortal shoulder with a glowing hand to restore sight and drive all fear and shadows from each overwrought mind.

"Bayard?!" said the Prince brightly, rushing to engulf his friend in a joyous hug, "I thought you had been destroyed!" He then smiled exuberantly at the former guardsmen and said, "and you are most welcome, my friends!"

"Why are you still alive?" hissed Tyne miserably at the death of all his grand visions, "I saw that arrow vanquish you and those ridiculous peasants had almost faded out of existence!"

Bayard smiled hugely and caught the guards' delighted gaze, as he said, "a mortal man dies only once, after that, it is a mere inconvenience!"

"What of this traitor?" asked the elf sadly.

"We must still stand before your leaders?" asked Ithril quietly. At the elf's grim nod, the Prince said, "then let them decide his fate."

The elf shook his head, "they might choose to side with him!"

"Even so," sighed Ithril heavily, "justice is not ours to mete out."

"Well said," agreed the elf sadly, "come along then, my friends, we have our duty to be about."

Tyne wasn't about to come quietly, forcing his cousin and the elf to bind him while Bayard and guardsmen stood awkwardly back to watch as their companions struggled with the burly youth. "Why aren't you helping us?" asked the Prince, valiantly trying to overcome his much larger cousin.

"They can't," said the elf in wonder, "it is quite contrary to their new nature to have any physical influence over a mortal creature!"

"I guess we'll just have to do it ourselves then," said the Prince with a wry laugh, at last mastering his cousin.

"I should have joined the fiends!" snarled Tyne in reply.

"Then why didn't you?" rejoined the elf.

"No," sighed the boy, slumping in his bonds as the others urged him to start walking, wanting to be as far from that dreadful place as they could get before the villains decided to return.

"This will take us the rest of your mortal lives," said the elf in dismay, "for this country is vast and little avails itself to men afoot!"

"Perhaps we can be of service?" asked Bayard, raising a glowing hand.

"Quite," said the elf with a wide grin, "perhaps you can avail yourselves of mortals after all?"

"Only with their consent," said Garren thoughtfully, smiling to know it true even if he had never pondered such a concept before speaking it.

"By all means," said the Prince, "let's get this over with." Tyne only snarled deprecations of them all under his breath as they vanished in a brilliant flash. Said Ithril in delight to his old friend, "I was about to call you utterly useless, but it seems you have redeemed yourself."

"Ever at your service, Sire," grinned Bayard, before they all fell silent in awe and fear, for they stood in a great city, but one with the ambiance of a tomb about it, and alien to their human eyes.

"Yes," said the elf to his companions, "such is the capital of my homeland and thither lies our fate."

"Let us to it, my friend," smiled Ithril grimly, "whatever our doom."

There were very few passersby in those broad streets, but the few that did witness their passing stopped to stare coldly at their intrusion, but as they were accompanied by a uniformed soldier of elvish descent and none were of the misty appearance typical of mortals in that place, they assumed there must be some story behind the procession and did not bother themselves the more with the business, save when the odd company made its demands of the powers that be.

"You wish a judgement to be rendered on your company?" said the servile flunkey the elf captain first queried upon the subject.

"Yes," persisted the elf, "here are two mortals with fairy blood in their veins, one a traitor, and I have proved myself faithless to the edicts that rule our people."

"Very strange indeed," mused the servant grimly, "what of these others?"

The elf shook his head, "they are a phenomenon completely outside my experience and a riddle perhaps only the wisest of our folk might solve."

"I'll pass the word," sniffed the unimpressed fellow, "but do not be surprised if their lifespans are spent before someone chooses to deal with them. Perhaps you should venture into the mortal world yourself and spare us the trouble of banishing you thence!"

"Now there is a thought," said the elf, "what of our accommodations until our hearing?"

The elfling laughed derisively, "feel free to introduce yourselves to the jailers if you like, but we shall not be bothered with succoring such ne'er-do-wells!"

"Thank you for your trouble," said the elf grimly, "I suppose we must fend for ourselves." He glanced at his mortal companions and asked, "what would you do?"

"Spend the rest of our lives in an elven prison," mused Ithril grimly, "or go home. It doesn't seem much of a choice to me."

"Especially when you consider that it is not my own folk with which you will deal," said their elven companion, "rather they farm out all such dreadful tasks to orcs or trolls or other unsavory races that actually enjoy that sort of work."

"Lovely," said Ithril in disgust, "I believe our choice is made. What of you?"

"Have I not been banished?" grinned the elf delightedly, "Come, show me this world of yours, can one truly see the stars?"

Bayard and the guardsmen each held out a glowing hand, said the former, "indeed, and we would be delighted to offer you a glimpse of them!" They vanished in a glorious flash, leaving the flunky to scratch his ear with his pen and wonder what it was all about.

There were the horses, standing idly about as if their riders had ventured into that dreadful Wood afoot or not at all. They leapt into their saddles, after hoisting the bound Tyne into his own, and set off with joy in the afternoon, riding back to the palace as if the whole trip had merely been a lark. "You will accompany us?" said the Prince to his three strange companions in wonder, "I thought you might have more important things to do than resume your previous positions?"

Bayard shook his head grimly, "our presence bodes ill for the peace of the realm Sire, something must be afoot if we are to remain in your service."

Tyne laughed darkly, "indeed, gentlemen, there are dangerous days ahead, flee whilst you can!"

"What shall come of him?" asked the elf, Caper by name.

"My father will deal justly with him," said Ithril with certainty, "at least in that we can find satisfaction."

"Will he?" countered Tyne snarkily.

"Hush," retorted the Prince, "at least until you have reason to gloat."

"I fear he has reason indeed, Sire," said Bayard quietly, his gaze fixed gloomily ahead, for a great column of smoke rose on the horizon in the direction of the palace.

"This is not your disaster my friend," said Ithril to the elf, "flee in peace!"

"No," said Caper brightly, "you have graciously offered me succor in my exile and I would in nowise abandon my new friends in their moment of need."

"At least hide your ears," insisted Garren, "whatever has happened, I do not think seeing a real live elf amongst mortal men will be of any help whatsoever!"

"We do not need panic in the streets atop all else," grinned the elf wryly, as Bayard handed him a hat, placing it jauntily atop his head, he asked, "what think you?"

"Lovely," chuckled Bayard, but his face grew grave as they turned their horses homeward and urged them to what many might consider reckless haste, Tyne grinning like a death's head as they dashed madly off.

Bayard and the guardsmen galloped to the fore of the company as they neared the outlying villages that had sprung up like a ring of mushrooms around the great city. The air was choked with thick black smoke and the road with fleeing peasants, but their reports were so confused and terror stricken they could make nothing of them. It could have been anything from a dragon to an invading army to a band of drunken pirates, but whatever it was, none dared stay to find out, save the Prince's party, determined to return and do what they could. Eventually the flood of terrified humanity trickled to only a sporadic refugee and then to no one at all as they pushed ever deeper into the half burned, seemingly abandoned city, where terror hung as heavy about them as the smoke in the air. Suddenly some of the reek opened its flaming eyes and tried to engulf the little company.

Those peculiar men beyond death drew their swords and swiftly reduced the fell creatures to so much memory. Ithril exchanged a wondering grin with Bayard, despite the devastation about them, as Tyne wailed, "please, just release me and I promise to be a good and decent man from now on!"

"No," said Ithril grimly, "we will get to the bottom of this and you will face justice..." He crumpled with a knife in his back, much delighting Tyne, not that he found the Prince's murderer so amusing, as his horrid acquaintance from the Wood stepped out of the shadows of a nearby inn.

"We'll have justice indeed!" laughed the monster darkly, "Though I fear it will not be to your liking boy!" It took Tyne by the throat and dissolved into dark mist, leaving the survivors to the mercies of another pack of those smoky wraiths, which quickly engulfed Bayard and his compatriots, so occupying their swords, that Caper was left defenseless before six of the things, soon reducing him to nothingness as they absorbed him utterly.

Bayard sighed heavily as he looked upon his dead friend and they searched in vain for the vanished elf, said he, putting up his sword, "it seems we have failed, my friends."

"You give up far too easily," laughed a familiar voice at his shoulder, as he turned suddenly to look with joyous eyes into those of his longtime friend.

"Who is to say we have failed?" mused Caper brightly, standing beside the erstwhile Prince, both glowing like the heart of a distant star, "Perhaps this is how your Kingdom is spared from such evil?"

"Not if you insist on going about like that," laughed Garren joyously.

"I suppose we had best blend in," sighed the elf in feigned dismay, and not only did he cloak himself in bland mortality, but he even managed to somehow make his visage appear fully human, though he could not so easily hide his radiant smile.

"Curious," said Bayard with a knowing smile, "now let's go rescue the Kingdom," he glanced about glumly, "if there is anything left to rescue." They exchanged a grim smile and each vanished in a flash of light.

They crept out of the empty stables, or what was left of them, for apparently this was where the conflagration had started, for it was burned nearly to the ground and not a horse or bit of straw or hay remained to be seen. The castle itself seemed in little better repair, at least the first three stories, and there was no one about to answer any of their questions, but they had no doubt as to whither their quarry had fled, following the eerie feeling like a hound upon a rabbit's scent. A few of the shadowy creatures, skulking about like lost shadows in the abandoned corridors, tried to accost them, but were easily reduced to nothingness with a single stroke of someone's sword, as they continued hard upon the trail.

Several of the wraiths stood watch outside the half-burned doors of the great hall wherein the King once held court before nightmares stalked the streets. The shades foolishly made to interpose themselves between the five common seeming men and whatever was happening within, but they were quickly apprised of their mistake and sent elsewhither to think thereupon, leaving the chambers wide open to this unlooked for invasion. As the five dashed into the room, a whole host of those wretched shadows turned suddenly to glare upon the impertinent intruders, but they had attention for nothing but the happenings in the middle of the ring of dark wraiths with their burning eyes, for even as they dashed to the rescues, another great lord of the land faded into nothingness as he was set upon by half a dozen of the gathered shades, each of the parasites looked less misty and more solid after it had fed. Bayard shuddered, wondering how many victims must be thus absorbed for the monsters to become as solid as the ringleader, jubilantly boasting his triumph in the middle of the room.

The fiend turned its fiery gaze upon the intruders as the ring of shadows coalesced behind them, trapping them within with the head villain and all that was left of the trembling court. The Prince ignored the taunting monster and addressed the horrified lords, ladies, advisors, and great men of the land, saying boldly, "I little know what the future holds for this suddenly benighted realm, but I do know the Source of all Hope! They are not mere stories, my friends, they are true and can save your souls from utter night! Forget your fears, your pride, your indifference this moment and cast yourself upon His mercy, whatever betide, nothing can snatch you from His might hand!" He squawked in pain, turning to stare in disgust upon one of those lesser shadows that had attached itself to his leg, but the grimly eager smile upon his face did not bode well for the wretched thing. He sent a jolt of light into the creature, it yelped and writhed in agony, wailing pitiably as it slunk away, and with a shudder, he knew it to be Tyne!

"Silence, ghost!" ordered the primary shade, "My minions shall soon make short work of you and the entire court unless your wretched father bends to my will!"

"Never!" cried Ithril, his sword in his hand, "Neither will you use me to manipulate the King!" He turned keen eyes upon the huddled mass of nobility and said boldly, "fear not for me Highness, I am beyond his reach! Do not agree to his fell plans, neither allow him to use me against you. Rather find hope in Him who has rescued me!"

"Let us see if your boasts are true, little ghost!" snarled the fiend, a blade black as death in its hands. They leapt at each other, darkness and light flaring forth like lightning as they clashed. As the shadows were distracted with the battling pair, Bayard and Caper approached the horrified court while the former guardsmen stood ready to act as seconds in the dreadful duel.

"What does that fiendish thing want?" asked Bayard of the trembling King, whose eyes were wide and terrified as he watched his son tangle with the monster.

Shuddered his Majesty, "I must cede him the crown and plunge all this land into shadow forever."

"Do not give into him, Sire," said Bayard gravely, "for it will avail no one but the servants of evil. We will deal with these monsters, but I fear your own lives and even the Kingdom perhaps are beyond salvage."

"Be that as it may," said the King grimly, "it is better than allowing it to be a bastion of such evil! How is it you have the courage and power to stand against these fiends?"

Bayard said quietly, but there was joy strong in his voice, "we have passed the gates of Death, no longer do we fear anything upon this mortal earth, even these unholy terrors that were once men!"

"I want such confidence," sighed the King wretchedly.

"Then remember the old tales and the hope found therein!" said Bayard eagerly, "I will tell you how to find Joy Himself, if you would like?" At the eager nods of all those there gathered, he was about to begin, but a familiar voice interrupted him.

"Perhaps you should let me do my job lad," chuckled the King's least interesting advisor, "that I might free you to be about your own?"

"An excellent idea," said Bayard with a nod of greeting, "as it seems my unique skillset will soon be needed elsewhere." He bowed to the King and trotted back to the guardsmen as the man began the old tales, the nobles listening as they never had before.

As they returned to their comrades, Ithril screamed and vanished as that sable blade took him in the heart. Bayard unsheathed his sword and charged the triumphant monster, turning to gloat before all and sundry, unable to react before the boy fell upon him with all the suddenness and implacability of an avalanche. They vanished together in a terrible flash of light. Their three remaining comrades drew their swords and started hacking at the suddenly enraged shadows, who fell upon the intruders and captives alike. The elf heard the storyteller cry aloud, before he was consumed, "you must choose now!"

At last the final shade was vanquished, leaving Caper alone in that vast hall, the guardsmen having been overcome and likewise banished while none of the captives had escaped those grim shadows. With a shudder of dread at the outcome, but little knowing what he did, with a glowing hand he summoned back his missing comrades. Garren glanced about grimly, saying with a shake of his head, "we are triumphant, but alas for the Kingdom!"

"I don't know," said Bayard with a pensive frown, "as devastating as this must be for the tranquility and prosperity of their mortal lives, does it not open wide the door for Greater Things? That their hearts might consider their eternal destiny rather than their temporal peace? Had those great lords come to death, old and content, would they ever have opened their stony hearts to Him? But with death staring them in the face, they were forced to seriously consider the matter and perhaps be saved thereby!"

"Indeed!" said Caper brightly, "I would in nowise return to my former ignorance and pointless existence if given the chance, no matter the tragedy that seems to have beset my tale of late."

Kipril smiled ruefully, "I suppose we must start looking at things from an eternal perspective, as that is now our prerogative!"

"Yes, my friend," said Garren, clapping him on the back encouragingly, "for there is Hope in nothing else and we have the very great privilege of seeing that others can discover it for themselves." They exchanged an eager cheer before vanishing about their next adventure.

Grey Soldiers

He had always laughed at the very idea of the Grey Soldiers, the Dread Host: wraiths that appeared to march the dead to Death's Door, for it could only be another fairy tale, no more real than unicorns or dragons; he was young and full of life and need never fear such bogeys, at least not for a long count of years yet. But that was before the accident, before the tree fell and the Soldiers came. The villagers did not see anything in particular, but felt an inexplicable chill as they passed, as if a breath of winter invaded the summer day and the more observant thought perhaps a cloud had passed over the sun. The dogs whined in terror, the cats hissed, the horses whinnied uneasily, and the birds stilled their singing, for though they could not see it, they knew something uncanny was passing by and they dared not ignore it as the all too blind mortals in the vicinity that went obliviously about their chores, as if nothing were amiss, but then it had not come for them. The disquiet passed as quickly as it had come and the sun resumed its shining and the birds their singing in the very wake of death, for life is stronger still.

He was not their only prisoner, he recognized the other boy in their clutches and wondered if he looked as wretched and insubstantial. He glanced down dully at his own arm, the only part of his crushed corpse visible beneath the great tree, but the Soldiers quickly prodded him onward like a dawdling cow and he had no choice but to march with them. They were a grim and silent company, the captors as ghastly a sight as the captives, at least for those who had eyes to see. The Soldiers lived up to their name, they were certainly grey, like tattered banners worn thin and ragged on a long and hopeless campaign. There was not a hint of color or hope among the lot of them, rather they bore their captives silently and efficiently to their assigned doom and so would they do until the worlds ceased turning. The boys were equally drab and hopeless, shocked and terrified by their circumstances and as wraithlike as their companions, save less grim in feel and feature. Bayard could only glance curiously at his companion, unsure if he even had a voice any longer but knowing if he did, any communication with his fellow captive or his captors was strictly forbidden. He had known the lad had been sick with the Fever for some weeks and it seemed the prognosis had been decided at last. Chyan seemed angered by his own fate and the few glances he exchanged with Bayard said he was horrified by the suddenness of his companion's.

They ghosted along forever or for a moment, for Time no longer held them captive so it was hard to tell, but at last they came to a Door. They stood amidst the ruins of a once proud castle, of which the only surviving structure was a great iron bound oaken door, dark with the years, standing as grim and firm as the roots of the mountains. The unseen leader of the Soldiers barked a command and the door swung wide upon infinite blackness. The stench of death was strong in the air and despair rolled out of the fathomless dark like a fog. Both boys shuddered and knew this was their doom. Bayard's heart wailed in terror but his face was a grim mask, was this the end his faith had promised? Where now was his salvation in the midst of death? There came no answer but a chill wind from the endless night fit to freeze a heart in its beating. He glanced about desperately for some sign of hope, but only grim grey clouds lowered ominously overhead, indifferent to his mortal plight, and nothing grew in this place of dust and stone, not even the most hardy and vile of weeds. Somehow he knew that is how it was and would ever be until the stars themselves ceased in their courses.

He felt the prod of his captors again and resignedly moved toward the chasm that must be his eternal home, calling himself a fool for ever believing it could be otherwise. But Chyan, his equally doomed companion, cried out in dismay, "must it be so!" Apparently on the verge of eternal night the condemned might be allowed a few last words.

The Captain of the Dread Host stepped forth and glared at the outspoken wretch, "I have my orders and you your fate. There is but one escape and few are fool enough to take it."

"Anything!" Chyan wailed.

The Captain snorted, "you would willingly join the Host then?"

"Stop!" said another voice, edging on despair, "Do not be such a fool!"

The Captain bawled, "no one gave you leave to speak wraith! Back into line and keep silent!"

The overbold Soldier laughed without hope or mirth, "I do not ask leave to speak Captain, but rather tell you that I will even now abandon this service." He turned to the trembling Chyan, "do not be a fool boy, this interminable existence cannot be worse than Death! I was once like you, perhaps millennia ago, but at last I tire of this unending and thankless errand. Yes, you can put off the inevitable for as long as Time endures, but at what cost? To be nothing but a Wraith, never touching the mortal world or the worlds beyond yet trapped inexorably between, ever and only bearing doomed souls to this place? Step through the door and find your place lad, do not remain in this timeless limbo!" With that he ducked inside the door and vanished from their awareness.

Chyan gasped in terror, fell to his knees, and implored the Captain, "let it be as you have spoken, but spare me the Door!"

The Captain's smile was neither pleasant nor welcoming, but he ordered the pleading boy into line with the rest of his silent minions before turning vacant eyes upon Bayard, snarled he, "well?

Bayard glanced uneasily at the Door, tried to spy the lost Chyan amongst the ghastly Host, stared in horror at the dead eyes of the Captain, and then with a silent prayer, followed the former Soldier into the Dark, the Door clanged ominously shut behind him.

He glanced about in surprise, not having anticipated this ending to the tale, not in the least. He had resigned himself to an eternity of darkness and despair, misery and grief, not to find himself in a crumbling cell of mortal construct with even a little wan light filtering in through unseen cracks and crannies. There was no sign of the Soldier, but an old skeleton moldered in the corner, still chained to the wall. What little furniture or contents the cell might once have held had long since rotted to dust, with only here and there a bit of wood or other unrecognizable detritus. The afterlife was definitely a stranger experience than Bayard had ever anticipated.

He spoke dazedly to the musty air, "is this it then? What of Your promises? Where are You? Is it all in vain?"

Even as he spoke, he knew his words did not go unheeded, neither had all the terror and horror that had assaulted his heart and soul since the Host had found him nor had any moment during his brief sojourn upon the earth. Just because things were not as he thought they should be did not mean that he was alone or forgotten. As this thought crashed into his mind as solidly as the great tree had crushed his mortal frame, he noticed the wan light was slowly growing brighter and more intense and that the entire cell was quickly filling with a luminous mist. He felt rather than saw the mist engulf his incorporeal form and felt it clutch him as a man might hold a bird in his fist: gently but firmly. He struggled against the grasp upon him but knew escape was impossible yet greatly did he fear what was to come. His soul rejoiced even as his yet mortal mind recoiled in horror at losing some part of itself. He felt the mist invade his very inmost being and then it began to yank, like someone worrying a tooth.

The release was both agony and ecstasy as the mist withdrew with its prize: a darkness so black it made the void of space bright by comparison. The boy shuddered to think that vileness had lurked in his own soul. The luminescence increased and the darkness shuddered for a moment before imploding in on itself and vanishing utterly. In that light, the boy felt himself unmade, so bright and glorious and pure was that fire that all that was not as itself could not abide its light. For a moment he thought it was the end of himself, the end of everything, but then he knew it was but the beginning, that his true self, as he had always been meant to be, had at last been birthed. And like a newborn, his naked soul wailed and cried in confusion and wonder at the strange world it now found itself in. But unlike the babe, he now had a choice to make, a course to decide. And it was no choice at all, for to have known Joy itself and seen Splendor in all its unveiled glory, who could say 'no' when asked to do anything at all by Him?

Bayard blinked, he found himself lying on the damp, cold stones of that same crumbling cell but only a few tendrils of wanly glowing mist remained of the engulfing radiance that had consumed him utterly. Death. He blinked again and slowly gained his feet, as if he were a man a thousand years old, and only out of long habit rather than out of conscious thought, for all his mind was bent on that singular word. Death! Yes, he knew that word or had thought he did. He remembered a grim and dreadful door, a horde of wraithlike creatures unwilling to enter therein but who would bear others thither, and he remembered Something beyond it all. He smiled like Joy itself, yes, beyond it! It was a door, merely a door, into greater things, greater by far than his meager mortal mind could have stretched itself around. Even now his mind was foggy, still trying to comprehend what had happened, what was yet to come. Duty.

With that thought, his mind cleared and he knew exactly where he was and what he must do. He flung wide the Door and the indifferent clouds and wan light were there to greet him, as much as they ever bothered with such things as greetings, which was to say not in the least. A drab grey shadow on one side of the Door flinched back in terror, not having expected Death's Door to ever give up its victims thus. The wraithlike creature that was Chyan hovered closer upon recognizing this refugee from Death's grasp, "Bayard!"

Bayard smiled at the boy, as ever he might upon a fair day on the village green before such tragedy was ever wrought upon their young lives. Said he as if it were quite the most natural thing in the world, "hullo."

If shades could faint, this one might have, but lacking the appropriate physiology, or physiology of any kind for that matter, the ghost merely became more transparent instead. Said Bayard in concern, "you look as if you have seen a ghost!" The complete irony of this statement gave them both significant pause, Bayard grinned hugely in amusement and even the terrified Chyan almost smiled, for in his present state he was incapable of all joy and mirth.

Bayard considered things from his companion's perspective and quickly hastened to rectify matters as best he could under the circumstances. He shut the Door and turned to face his quite stymied companion, who gaped at him all the more. Not only had this mere boy emerged from Death's Door, he also appeared quite solid, a state which the poor shade envied sorely. Where was the despondent lad who had resignedly vanished into the Maw of Death from whence none ever returned? Where was the wraithlike creature that was less substantial than the morning mist?

Bayard was first to break the uneasy silence, "I thought you had joined the Host? What are you doing warding the Door?" He smiled wryly, "it is not as if you could actually do anything one way or the other should something happen."

Chyan felt his ire rise at this presumed insult, groused he, "my Captain ordered me to stand watch, he did not give his reasons nor must he to the likes of me. What do you mean I cannot do anything?"

Bayard shook his head sadly, "you are a wraith, a breath, a fog, yet have less influence than any of them. You have departed the mortal world yet have declined to enter the sphere that is now your rightful home. As a denizen of one world still lingering in another, you cannot hope to have any influence here, for good or ill unless sent forth on an errand by a force great enough to grant you such ability."

Chyan sniffed disdainfully, "and who made you a philosopher? How is it you come to stand once more, solid under the sky when you were yourself in such circumstances not an hour ago?"

Bayard blinked, had it truly been so short a time? It might have been eons for all he knew, glorious eons of which mortal words could find no expression. He said quietly, "I embraced my doom and now my Master has a task for me yet in the mortal world."

Chyan sneered, "your Master! He was quick enough to rescue you from death and even from the grim march to this very place."

Bayard shook his head, "His ways are not our ways, who am I to say how a thing ought to be done? I can but do His will and find my joy and hope therein."

"Fairy tales!" scoffed Chyan. He quieted suddenly, uneasy with such a description as only that morning he had thought the same of the Dread Host.

Bayard said quietly, "and what of you? Will you stand here until your Captain returns, useless as a shadow or will you enter the Door and accept your fate, whatever it be?"

Chyan glanced uneasily at the Door and said, "I will never willingly enter therein, yet neither will I stand here like an old tree. I think my Captain knew you'd get up to some nonsense, why else leave me to guard this horrid Door? I will tag along with you and see what it avails."

Bayard shook his head, "it will be futile, but do as you wish." He held out a hand to Chyan and the boy stared at it as if it were a poisonous snake.

Scoffed the wraith, "you wish us to chummily hold hands as we walk blithely back over what may be countless leagues? Or do you think I somehow possess the skill or knowledge to transport a mortal man across time and space as the Host brought us here?"

Bayard said patiently, "neither, but if you do not take my hand you cannot hope to accompany me. You might lack the skill necessary but I do not." With a look of contempt, Chyan took his hand and eagerly waited to see his companion fail in his boasts, but rather they both dissolved into mist and suddenly reappeared upon the same summer morning that saw the Host invade their village.

Chyan stared in wonder at Bayard, "how is this possible? You are a mortal man!"

Bayard glanced at the crushed figure barely discernable beneath the great bole of a fallen tree, and shaking his head said, "no, I am not." Growing suddenly misty in appearance and radiating with an inner light the wraith found uncomfortable to look upon, even though it was barely discernable in the sunlight, Bayard reached out and touched what once had been his own hand. What they could see of the corpse grew as radiant and misty as Bayard himself, but grew ever more so until it vanished altogether.

Chyan stared in incomprehension, "what did you just do?"

Bayard smiled knowingly, "the Host has just departed, this unfortunate occurrence happened only a few moments ago by mortal reckoning. Our folk never need know that it happened at all. Even the perpetrator may think himself unsuccessful." The mistiness faded and he appeared again as solid as any mortal lad under the sun.

Sneered the wraith, "what of me?"

Bayard gazed at him pointedly, "what of you? This is not your place, nor your sphere! Enter the Door and only then will you escape this meager existence, this half life as it were."

Scoffed Chyan, "so that is it then? You will just erase all evidence of your own demise and go on living as if nothing has happened?"

Bayard laughed outright at this insensible thought, "not at all! This is not my place either, save on those errands my Master sends me. There is a mystery far deeper here than a mere accident. That tree did not topple of its own accord. I am tasked with unraveling the riddle and then I too will depart this place that was once dear to us both. I will walk among our folk only as necessary to discern what is truly going on and then shall put a stop to it."

Said the disgruntled ghost, "can I not help in some way? Is my own demise likewise premeditated?"

Bayard shook his head sadly, "you will be neither seen nor heard by those who still draw breath, neither can you influence the physical world around you! I somehow doubt that your illness was intentionally devised, but anything is possible I suppose, at least until I can get a better idea as to who or what is behind this puzzle and what they are truly after."

Grated the shade, "I will not leave neither will I enter the Door!"

Bayard shook his head, "do as you wish, but you will only frustrate yourself the more, and if our villain is something more than a mortal man, you may find yourself in very grave danger."

Chyan snorted derisively, "what can be worse than death?"

Bayard shuddered, "I do not know, but death is only a door into greater things. Some of the paths beyond it are grim indeed!"

A chirruping avian voice answered in wholehearted agreement, "you would be wise to listen child, whatever the fate that awaits you beyond the Door, it is far wiser to accept it willingly than to linger out of place and time. For there are vile powers abroad in the world that would use you sorely for their own ends without helping you in the least. Even this living death you have embraced is a worse fate than what awaits beyond the Door. "

The wraith stared at the impudent magpie who dared give voice to such disquieting thoughts, scorned he, "how can this be worse?"

The bird shook his head sadly, "here you are nothing, save a memory, and can never be anything but. There, you will at least be real. Here you can but mourn what has been and fear what will be. There, you will know what is, no matter how grim the reality, there shall be no more doubt or dread of what is to come nor impotence over what can no longer be. Else you will linger on as long as time lasts in doubt and fear only to reach that inevitable end when Time itself fails."

The shade snarled silently at the avian figure for a moment before it vanished in a flash of white and black feathers; Bayard was a-tremble with fear and joy in His presence and said nary a word until it had vanished from their perception. Then another presence intruded upon their solitude, destroying whatever subject the boy had thought to broach at that moment. "How could I miss?" snarled a cold, reptilian voice though the speaker appeared a man in form.

Chyan blinked in astonishment, for he was alone with the stranger. Said the irate man once more to the wraith, "if I missed my target, what are you doing here? Are you one of the Host then?" The creature sniffed the air, as if his mortal nostrils could smell something beyond the range of normal human olfaction, grated he with a rough smile, "I did not miss! There is no corpse but I smell blood and brains, which means some mortal creature has had its life crushed out, even if the body has conveniently vanished." He studied the shade again with a curious frown, Chyan still too flummoxed to answer. The creature then put his back to the massive trunk and shifted it with a strength that defied all reason, or at least mortality. He studied the dark stains upon the crushed vegetation and the great bole with satisfaction, "I did not miss! Wraith! Where is the Host?"

It was Bayard that replied, having melted into mist the moment the other's presence was felt and then reappearing as soon as it became evident that he could not hide the obvious from this persistent creature, said he, "you will never catch the Host thus."

Snarled the creature at the sudden intruder, "and what would you know of the matter?"

Bayard smiled grimly, "think you that you have the speed to catch creatures that move outside of space and time? What may seem an eternity to the Host and their wards is no more than an instant to the rest of creation. Can you be there in that infinitesimal moment when death seizes a mortal creature and the Host comes upon it? None can be there in that moment save the Host and their victim. You must await the Host at Death's Door to have any chance of confronting them, murdering countless thousands will never avail you for you will always be too early or too late. As you were with me."

The creature hissed, "so the Host has been and gone? What of this shade?"

Chyan finally stuttered, "I am of the Host, though rather new to such service. I must return thither with all haste." He turned pleading eyes to Bayard, who nodded grimly at the wraith's rising panic.

Bayard thrust out his hands to the two and said, "I will take you to the Door, whatever transpires after that is not my concern." The pair exchanged a mystified look but each took one of the outstretched hands without question and the world suddenly melted into mist.

They materialized outside that grim Door, Chyan sighed heavily and resumed his post while Bayard exchanged a sudden, curious look with their reptilian companion, before both darted through the Door, gaping open as if awaiting their coming, closing with an ominous thud as they vanished within, eliciting a terrified shudder from Chyan, who wondered how they could be such fools, but as he reconsidered his own position, he mused gloomily that they were all of them equally doomed.

Prince Ithril galloped into the courtyard of his castle in the highest spirits, happy to be home at last after the long and tedious visit of state his mother had insisted the whole royal family pay to her kin in the neighboring realm, but as his horse collapsed beneath him, he suddenly realized something was terribly wrong. The servants and guards that should be busy about the courtyard were lying either dead or senseless at their posts. Even the ubiquitous dogs, pigeons, and chickens lay strewn about like a child's abandoned playthings. He tried to gasp himself, but found he could not breathe, in horror he turned to look upon his companions: the Captain of the Guard and Kipril, his constant companion and servant, who had accompanied him in his mad gallop towards the palace, quickly outdistancing the rest of the royal entourage.

Kipril was fighting his frantic horse, trying to keep the beast in one place: blocking the main gate that no one else might unwittingly enter the accursed courtyard and suffer a like fate. The Captain was hacking at the great rope keeping the portcullis aloft. Ithril raced to his side, dizzy with lack of air, but he drew his sword and set to work. Kipril's horse toppled, his legs flailing wildly for a moment before he lay still, his master unmoving beside him. The Captain gave one last, pathetic strike with his sword and slumped beside the nearly severed rope. The blackness clawed at Ithril's vision, and with a final, desperate stroke, the rope snapped and the heavy metal gate fell with a crash, preventing anyone else from entering the courtyard, but the boy had passed into oblivion and knew it not.

He awoke in a sort of cave or dungeon, he wasn't quite sure which, perhaps both, for the walls seemed hewn out of the very rock while the iron bars and grates were set into the stone itself. Kipril and the Captain, Garren by name, sat beside him on a stone bench likewise carved out of the stone walls. Ithril blinked and blinked again, but nothing changed, "where are we?"

Garren shook his head, "I don't know, this wasn't quite what I expected after death, if we are dead?"

The prince glanced about and took in the other shades in the enclosure, for he could not call the wraithlike specters, like bits of tattered cloud shredded by a fierce wind, anything else. It seemed everyone who had collapsed in the courtyard was now contained in this strange cell, but how and why?

He must have spoken this last aloud, for his father's brother sat beside them and groused, "my spell went awry, that's what happened! I was on my way out of the castle when you lot arrived prematurely, a minute more and I would have been safe, but alas I was caught in my own net and it seems my wretched brother and the bulk of his family escaped somehow!"

"You got the gate down in time?" queried Kipril hopefully, "The Royal Entourage was nearing the gate when I fell."

"They aren't here," said the Captain happily, if one could experience such an emotion in that grim place, "the rope was nearly severed when all went black."

"I thought I heard a crash as I passed into oblivion," agreed the prince. He eyed his villainous uncle grimly, "now what? What was supposed to happen? Are we dead or merely imprisoned?"

"I haven't the foggiest," shrugged the mage, "I was promised the throne, little understanding or caring what the spell entailed, only told that I must be gone from the castle before my brother and his family returned!"

"You're not dead, at least not yet," came a new voice, full of what could only be utmost Joy, music indeed in such dull and grim surroundings, "but your fates have not yet been determined."

The wraithlike prince looked upon a boy his own age, a real, solid, human person, standing suddenly before him in the midst of that bleak cell, asked he quietly, "what is to come of us?"

"That's what we are here to negotiate," hissed a reptilian monstrosity, pushing the boy aside to confront the dejected shades, "where is the Grey Host?"

Bayard shook his head, "what is it with you and the Host? If and when Death has its triumph, they may appear, but until then, they have no part in this muddle."

"My master wants the Host," snapped the reptile, "that was the main object in this little scheme."

"His scheme failed," said Bayard bluntly, "now how are we to rectify this situation? We can't leave these poor souls moldering in this infernal cell for the rest of eternity! They must either be returned to the mortal world or released beyond its confines."

"You must get me out of this!" demanded the mage.

"You were the fool who got trapped in his own enchantment," smiled the lizard sardonically, "but it seems our dread master still has a use for you, he has demanded your release."

"What of these others?" persisted Bayard.

"Let them die," spat the lizard, "then the Host will come and my master's plans shall be fulfilled!"

"No," said Bayard bluntly, "your master must reverse his spell and allow all of them to return to their proper place and time."

"He will do no such thing," snarled the reptile.

"Then he will lose his precious wizard along with the rest of them," asserted the boy.

"Very well," hissed the lizard, "he has no interest in the majority of this rabble, he will release them if his mage is likewise released, save that the so-called Prince and two others must yield up their lives to spare the others."

"Done," said four voices at once, all on their feet.

The Captain looked sadly upon his lieutenant, who had been on duty in the courtyard at that fateful hour, he shook his head grimly and said, "nay lad, you can have no part in this, as much as it will wring your heart to be denied what you must think your utmost duty, I'm ordering you to stand down. You are not ready for the things that lurk beyond the confines of the mortal world. You've also heard the tale and must carry it back to the King's ears, lest his brother get up to even worse mischief in the future."

"But Sir?!" protested the young man, tears in his eyes.

"You have your orders," said Garren sternly, but smiling wistfully, he added, "and I'd highly advise you to peruse the old tales and take them seriously, for your own final orders will come sooner than you might think, for mortal years are fleeting and quickly spent."

Bayard looked from the determined trio, the lieutenant having saluted his Captain and stepped back, disappearing into the silent throng of shades at their backs, to the eagerly grinning reptile, said he quietly, "it seems your price is met, fiend."

"So be it," hissed the reptile in growing anticipation, as a great wind seemed to gust through the cavern, sweeping the shades with it. A moment later, he and the uncanny boy were alone in the cell. "What has happened?" snarled the disappointed creature.

Bayard shook his head in disbelief, "when will you learn that you cannot importune or catch the Host? It has been and gone with its prey and the others have been returned to their former places, including your precious mage."

"And that soldier will be accusing him of treason this very moment!" snapped the irate monstrosity, "Get me back there!"

"As you wish," said Bayard with a slight grin, holding out his hand anew; they vanished likewise, allowing that forsaken place to dissolve back into the nothingness from which it had been wrought.

While the lizard and the uncanny lad could see nothing of the Host, the three doomed men were in nowise blind to their presence. While the rest of those confounded shades were swept back into the only reality they had ever known, the Grey Host appeared to take possession of their rightful prisoners. The friends were quickly sundered and marched off to a certain Door, and though they were thrown in one after the other, each found himself utterly alone in another cell, this one far more congenial to a formerly mortal mind, but there was very little time to contemplate such matters, for greater things were at hand.

The Door was again flung wide and out of it came the three who had just been cast within. The very Captain of the Host was on duty without, his disquiet shades muttering and milling aimlessly behind him, demanded he of Garren, the first to emerge again into the waking world, "what is this?!"

"Life," said the man simply, standing whole and solid under the mortal sky.

"None can escape Death!" said the grim captain sternly.

"We are beyond it," said Ithril, smiling hugely at his companions, as he and Kipril likewise escaped that unfathomable maw, the Door slamming to behind them.

"Then it is no business of mine," said the grim captain.

"Certainly not," agreed Kipril, "your duty is only to deal with the dead who have not yet found their rightful place beyond it."

"So what are you ghosts still doing haunting the mortal world?" snapped the captain.

"That is our Master's business and none of your concern," smiled Ithril.

"It sounds like cheating to me," said the irritable shade.

"He made everything," said Kipril, "and when human folly threatened to destroy everything He had wrought, He came Himself, in mortal guise, and died to pay the price to save it, and us! Is He not free to do with His own things as He sees fit?"

"I suppose you must be right, if those old myths be true," said the captain grudgingly.

"You are one to talk of myths," smiled Garren wryly.

"You have your occupation and I mine," shrugged the wraith indifferently.

"Do you know that the Fiend himself is hunting your company?" said Bayard, appearing suddenly in their midst and exchanging a smiling nod with his new comrades, before confronting that grim captain.

"What could he want with us?" shuddered the specter, "We're all condemned men, beyond mortal striving, but reluctant to embrace our final doom, willing even to endure this interminable existence rather than face the endless night that looms before us."

"That is what I would like to know," mused Bayard, "I believe it is the key to all these tragedies wrought in hopes of catching you.

"None can catch the Host!" said the captain defiantly.

"So it seems, little wretch," spat a great raven, perched in a dead tree clinging to some crack in the stone crag that towered above them, "but it was certainly worth a try! I thought to avail myself of the strange magic that allows your miserable little band to thwart death and time, but it is His meddling alone that produces the phenomenon and nothing of which I can take advantage, indeed, my meddling has only spawned these abominable creatures that think themselves the equal of my deadliest minions!" He glared at the four uncanny men, reducing each to nothingness with a thought, as they vanished utterly in a terrible burst of light.

"But come," said that stygian fowl, "what if I were to offer you something beyond your current mode of existence? You might for a time spare yourselves the utter night that is your deserved fate, as is now your intent, but also escape this wretched existence as well!"

The captain shuddered and said grimly, "my men are free to do as it pleases them, whether it is to enter the Door or give themselves into your keeping, but it seems to me that is folly indeed, for is your eternal fate not the same as ours: to be cast utterly into a lightless pit? What power then have you to help us thwart fate, even for a little while, when you cannot even spare yourself?"

"You are bold, ghost," spat the bird, "and lucky, for I could devise no misery for you greater than the one you currently endure!" With a haughty caw of disdain, he flapped off beyond those great and terrible peaks.

The wraith shuddered in dread and said to the gathered Host, "what think you lads?"

"This is a weary existence," said some tired ghost, "and if the Fiend himself thinks it a grand joke, perhaps it is time we realized it ourselves!"

"What of his promise to give us relief?" queried another.

"What promise from such a source can be trusted?" scoffed a third.

"Well I'm not entering that Door!" came a fourth.

"Enough!" snapped the captain, swinging wide that maw of utter night, "In with whomever has wearied of this service, the rest may do as it pleases them!" He vanished therein, along with most of the Host, leaving only Chyan, the fourth outspoken ghost, but he would not venture therein. The Door slammed with its usual ominous thud, leaving him Captain of the Grey Host by default, but it wasn't a title to which he could proudly aspire, for now he was utterly alone as well as forsaken! He glanced again at that wretched Door, but refused its grim call, preferring to set off upon the Host's next errand, wherever it be.

A strange, radiant mist crept blindly about the floor of that moldering cell, before it at last pulled itself together into four human shapes, each for a moment having to concentrate, before it could pull itself together into a truly solid form. "I wonder if this will ever become second nature?" grinned Ithril to his three companions, especially at Bayard, as he was the experienced one.

He barked a laugh and said, "I know as little as you about this strange occupation, though perhaps I have one more adventure under my belt. I only know that we'll know what we must, when we must."

"I wonder if we could find more congenial surroundings for future coalescences?" mused Kipril, "This old cell gives me the chills, not to mention having to exit through Death's Door time and again, that's a Door I thought we need pass only once!"

"It is rather awkward at that," mused Bayard, "but I know nothing of such matters, save that we can appear and disappear at will, there's no need to go through a door if you don't wish it or it isn't a part of your current mission."

"I wonder what came of the Host?" said Garren, "Not that I have any fondness for the wretched band, but I would not wish such a fate upon anyone, even them!"

Bayard frowned, "could the Evil One even do anything with them? Have not the dead passed beyond his reach? They must ever be in the keeping of the Master or Eternal Night, a fate the Fiend himself cannot escape, come the Day."

"I think you have the right of it, lad," said Garren, "transients though they remain in the mortal sphere, the members of the Host must eventually resign themselves to their chosen fate, and the Fiend cannot interfere therewith."

"He may just scare them into doing just that," mused Kipril, "for if one must choose, the Door or the Fiend, I would think the former the kinder fate!"

"As interesting as this is," said Ithril, "are we just to sit in this grim cell and philosophize for the rest of time, or is there something else we are supposed to be about?"

"What is time to us, my friend?" grinned Bayard, "But come, if you tire of conversation, I am sure we can find some needful adventure or quest in the wide world, else neither would we linger long in the mortal sphere, had we not something our Master would have us be about." They exchanged intrigued smiles all around and left the moldering skeleton to itself.

"Where are we?" queried Bayard of his new comrades, as they crouched behind a stack of crates and barrels in the heart of some fortress or castle.

"Home," said the erstwhile prince, unable to contain a grin of anticipation, he added, "perhaps our meddling in this affair is not at an end?"

Garren frowned, "but we are dead!"

"Yes," mused Ithril, studying the grim scene before them, most of the occupants of the courtyard were just then gaining their feet and glancing about in joyous wonder, shaking their heads, or standing dazedly about. The Royal Entourage was standing outside the gate and demanding to know why they could not enter. Kipril's horse heaved himself to his feet but his master lay where he had fallen. The prince and captain lay unmoving beside the apparatus used to raise and lower the gate, the rope obviously severed by their efforts. Asked the former prince of Bayard at last, "where did you take that terrible reptile?"

The boy shook his head, "that I know not, it was a wooded area where I left him, but it could have been in any corner of the world, though I doubt not it was not far from here, as that seemed his errand."

"My uncle," said the prince grimly.

"Who are you?" came a familiar voice, interrupting their observations and contemplations of what next was to be done.

"Easy Lieutenant," said Garren, rising to his feet and motioning for the grim man to return his sword to its sheath.

"Who are you?" repeated he sternly.

"You do not know me?" said the former Captain of the Guard.

"There has been enough witchery at work hereabouts that I daren't trust anyone, even the Royal Family is not beyond suspicion," replied the man coldly.

"At ease, soldier," barked the Captain in his best disgruntled commanding officer's voice.

"Sir?!" gaped the lieutenant, his sword falling from hands nerveless in shock, and as recognition dawned, so too were his eyes opened to the true identities of those before him.

"We are indeed ourselves, lad," grinned the Captain ruefully, "even if your eyes tell you otherwise." He glanced towards the place where a bevy of anxious and grieved soldiers and servants had gathered to bewail the loss of their Prince and Captain, "and even if circumstances seem to deny that fact."

He retrieved his sword and sheathed it, not taking his eyes from the Captain as he did so, "your orders, sir?"

Garren shook his head, "I won't be giving any more orders, lad." He smiled wryly, "at least not to mortal men. But if you'd care to cooperate in our little scheme, whatever it be, I'd be most happy to include you. Where is the King's brother?"

The Lieutenant shook his head, "I've been on the hunt for him since I awoke with everyone else but haven't found him. Currently we're working on getting the portcullis raised that the King and his party might enter. I sent someone out a side gate to explain matters to the King. Now what are you four up to?"

"I haven't the foggiest," grinned the prince, "but it probably has something to do with foiling my traitorous uncle and his new allies."

"I will do whatever I must to aid you, sir," said the Lieutenant eagerly.

"It will be dangerous," said Bayard, "especially to a mortal man!"

"I was ready to sacrifice my life in that eldritch cell," said the man bluntly, "my determination has not changed." Here he smiled wryly and added, "though perhaps my mythology has." His eyes sparkled in anticipation as he took in the lot of them, "I am not ignorant of the old tales, I was merely indifferent, but as they are obviously true, and the most important thing in the world and apparently beyond it, I have finally surrendered my stubborn heart to their ancient song."

Garren clapped him eagerly on the back, "welcome Home, my friend! Now let's see what we can do to help settle this muddle." He glanced significantly at his companions, who suddenly seemed to know what they must do, and with a thought, there they all stood, resplendent in the livery of the Royal Guard.

Laughed Kyan, taking in the spectacle, "it seems I'll be your commanding officer now! Off we go lads, there's a job of work to be done!" He dashed off and they trotted after him, exchanging vastly amused grins all around.

The gate was raised and propped in place until the rope could be fixed, the Royal Family finally entered, and the dead were respectfully moved aside, until they could likewise be dealt with. "Dead?! And at the hands of my brother?" said the King in horror, upon hearing the Lieutenant's disturbing report of what had come of his only son and why the courtyard was in disarray, adding grimly, "Where then is the fiend?"

Kyan shook his head in dismay, "I sought him immediately, Sire, but it seems he has fled or hidden himself before he could be apprehended."

"I want his head," said the King gruffly, "your men are not to sleep until he is dead or captured!"

"I know just the men for the job, Sire," said the Lieutenant, bowing himself from the royal presence.

"We've our marching orders it seems," mused the former captain, now a mere new recruit.

"I'm sure the Fiend did not spare his life merely to allow him another chance at botching a simple spell," said Bayard grimly.

"Undoubtedly when next we meet he'll be a foe well worthy of our uncanny skillset," shuddered Ithril.

"You're not afraid of such fell things, are you?" said Kipril in surprise to the prince.

The boy grinned ruefully, "not of such monsters in general, but of this one in particular, vengeful as he is like to be, and of the damage he may cause before he is dealt with, of that I am most wary indeed!"

Garren said quietly, "it is not for us to fear nor despair, lads, for do we not serve the Source of all Hope? Slip beyond this mortal sphere, if you tire of sorrow and death and evil, but if we are to be of any help to those still moldering in its midst, we too must wade through the filthy, clinging stuff to bring rescue to them, else they shall have none."

"Indeed!" said Ithril boldly, "Well spoken, my friend!"

"We'll go apprehend said uncle," said Kipril, eyeing Ithril significantly and gaining a firm nod in reply, "while the rest of you see what can be done for the people hereabouts."

"That sounds a grand idea," smiled Garren pensively, "in all aspects save one?"

"Sir?" asked Kipril questioningly.

"I believe I will be the one giving such orders henceforth," said the Captain wryly.

"As I have just unwittingly demonstrated!" said Kipril with a rueful smile, adding a hasty salute and, "Sir!"

"Off with you, lads!" said the former and current Captain, "And we'll be about our own business too!"

Ithril and Kipril vanished behind the stack of crates before vanishing in truth, both musing that hunting fugitives was a far easier task postmortem, for they could appear wherever and whenever they had a need to be, thus saving them much vain hunting. "What are you creatures?" hissed the lizardman, eyeing the pair with distaste.

"Where is my uncle?" demanded the Prince, ignoring the fiend's question.

"I wouldn't disturb him at such an inopportune moment, ghost," chided the reptile, "he's in over his head and anyone foolish enough to do likewise deserves what he gets!"

"Even so," said Kipril, "we have our orders."

"It's your funeral," scoffed the scaled fiend.

Ithril smiled grimly, "that hasn't been scheduled yet, and one is quite enough for any mortal man. Step aside, monster!"

The creature shrugged and let the ghosts pass him by, it was no business of his after all. They entered the forsaken castle, a favorite haunt of the young prince and his friend in the forgotten days of youth, but this time far more lurked in its lonely heart than spiders and pigeons. Both drew their swords, slightly radiant in the ambient gloom, and trekked deeper into the ruin. They heard a terrible cry of agony and then a horrid laugh of triumph, the rending of chain and the crushing of stone, as if some monstrous creature had ripped loose its fetters and was even now intent on terrifying the waking world, from which it had long been hidden.

"Ah, nephew!" said a terrible, but not unfamiliar voice, as they rounded the final corner, "And your pathetic henchman too!"

There stood the creature, for they could not call it a man any longer, it was indeed Ithril's uncle, but now a thing wrought of dark mist, ghostly bones alight with an infernal glow, hidden in the folds of a voluminous cloak. They could feel its evil smile, if they could not see anything of its cowled face but flaming eyes. Continued the monstrosity, "I was rather dismayed that I would have no part in your demise, but it seems I shall have my wish after all! Then the entire Kingdom shall feel my wrath! Previously I would have been content with the throne, but now, only the complete and utter destruction of my brother and all he loves will suffice."

"The Kingdom, and the world, stand not alone!" said Ithril, racing forward, blade alight with all the radiance of a full moon over snowy fields, but he vanished with a pained squawk as the vile mage launched a ball of black fire at his nephew.

Kipril smiled wryly at his friend's vanishment, knowing it was the late prince's eager haste that had been his undoing, but he was in nowise so rash. The villain scoffed, "think you that you can triumph where your master failed?"

"Quite," said Kipril boldly, "what matters our former rank or station in life, fiend? Now we are merely equally matched foes, for though I have no royal lineage, I am still a fell hand with a blade!"

"And I have spells aplenty!" snarled the former uncle, drawing his own blade, black as death, "And am no ignoramus with a sword!" Their blades met, and as they swirled about in the familiar, deadly dance, the traitor asked incredulously, "how is it you can stand against me?"

"We are the Master's answer to such things as you!" said Kipril, slashing in at his foe's momentarily unprotected chest, striking a mortal blow but receiving one himself with the fiend's return stroke. The monster fell to dust and Kipril vanished in a burst of glorious light. The reptile stepped out of the shadows, shaking its head in wonder at the antics of the fell things, before vanishing again into the castle's dark heart upon his own errands.

Ithril found himself in some forgotten recess of the library and smiled appreciably, this was a far better place to reappear in the mortal world than that forsaken old cell! He dashed out into the courtyard, still stirring like a disturbed hill of ants, but no one paid him any heed, a mere page in the Guard's service as he appeared, and intent on some errand as he seemed, eager to make his report to the new Captain and see what adventure awaited thereafter!

Heart of the Forest

Somewhere a woman screamed in terror, but there was no one to help her or even to hear, for everywhere there were flames and death. Smoke filled the sky and obscured everything from sight except the voracious flames, which consumed all in their path and gave off more smoke, which billowed ever towards the heavens. Here and there came another cry of anguish, grief, or terror, but the war cries of the ravagers drowned out these meager prayers for mercy and salvation. The smoke thickened, the cries died away, and only the flickering coals remained of the once rampant fire; in the eerie stillness of the aftermath, a laugh echoed triumphant, derisive, and cold, carried on the moaning wind.

Bayard sat up suddenly in bed, soaked in a cold sweat, and terrified by the stark reality of the dream. He shivered, tried to calm himself as he rolled over, but sleep did not come again that night. Restless and agitated as day broke, he paid little heed to his breakfast or his chores, which was quite unlike the usually diligent apprentice. His master, a man of few words and very little perceptible feeling but of deep understanding, asked of the distracted youth, "what troubles you lad?" The words seemed to draw the boy back from some distant place or time where his mind had been roving in unhappy memory. The boy told of his dream and the dread it had inspired, uneasy that he could be so disquieted by a silly nightmare.

The man knew the boy, had known him and been his only guardian since his father had died three years prior. The lad was not prone to fancy or hesitancy in his work. There was something more to this than a mere night terror for it to affect such a stolid lad so. "You had best go ask the Seer," said the man after a long silence, "there is more to this than I can fathom."

The boy sighed in relief and did as his master bade him, eager to be rid of the dread and futility he could not seem to escape, even on a congenial morning of spring. The Seer lived in a small cottage on the edge of town, an old man with immense wisdom and sometimes, prophetic vision. The village folk coveted his wisdom and advice, but did not much appreciate his habit of prattling on endlessly about matters on which they had not asked nor for which they had little apparent use in their small and tedious lives. There seemed to be an unspoken consensus to ignore this rather disconcerting behavior, take what was asked for, and hope never to find oneself alone with the man without an excuse as to why one's presence was immediately required elsewhere. So the old man would preach and the villagers would ignore him, except when they had some little problem that might benefit from his advice. In which case, they would take his wisdom and literally flee the moment he had finished giving it lest he have a chance to change the subject. The man saw their scheme and seemed to find it rather amusing yet he continued his attempts to inculcate sense in his folk nonetheless.

When three of the village boys gathered at his front door that morning, he was quite amazed, for rarely did a youth come for advice and their elders always came alone and in secret, if they could manage it. But here were the blacksmith's apprentice, the son of a poor farmer, and the son of the wealthiest merchant in town. They stared at one another as much as they did at the old man, each wondering what the other was here for and what the seer could or would do about their troubles. Said he with some amusement, "come in lads, come in. We cannot haggle on the doorstep." They exchanged an uneasy look, but followed the man into the house and accepted a chair by the fire. Once they were settled, the old man continued, "and what brings trouble to young hearts on a glorious morning such as this?" He could easily see that the three were uneasy, but in their inexperience, they were much awed that he could 'sense' their problems ere they were spoken.

The farmer's son, Ian, spoke first, "I had a dream last night, but it seemed as real as waking life."

Tyne, the merchant's son, said with a quavering voice, "as did I." Bayard nodded his consensus. The seer looked thoughtful for a moment and then asked them to tell of their visions. All three had experienced the same scene. The frown on the man's face deepened and he began to pace up and down the length of the small cottage as he ruminated on what the boys had said.

Finally he turned to them and said, "this was no random nightmare lads but truly a vision of warning sent that we might prepare for and perhaps circumvent this doom." The boys exchanged an amazed and fearful look; why were they seeing visions and what could they do to prevent some future evil? The man again seemed to miraculously know their minds, as he continued, "what we need is a Hero lads, someone to discover this evil and see that it does not fall upon us or if it should, to lead us in defense against it."

The boys stared at him, wherever were they to find a Hero? The old man smiled at their unspoken question and said, "in the Forest lads! If there is any hope, therein it must lie." The boys nodded their understanding but a growing dread at what was next to be said filled their hearts, said he, "of course you three must go thither and bring our Hero forth. As you are those chosen to witness this ill omen, so too must you find a way to prevent it. Go speak to your parents or master upon the matter and return as quickly as you can, our time is short. Go!" As one, the boys rose from their chairs and dashed out the door, too frightened to argue or delay. The old man collapsed in one of the chairs and began praying desperately, the time had come at last.

Each boy spoke to his specified guardian and received much the same reaction: complete bafflement and eventually a resigned affirmation that this thing had probably best be attempted. They returned to the seer to discover what next was required of them. In their absence, he had received the insight he needed to send the lads forth with a confident heart. His confidence did much to suppress the dread slowly building in their own hearts and eagerness for an adventure soon began to take its place.

He paced before them in the bright sunshine outside the little cottage as a general before his troops, "you have undoubtedly heard of the Forest lads, as we live on the very doorstep of that wild and strange wood: the last refuge of all we call legend and myth. Therein you can find any number of strange creatures never seen or named by men and those that venture thither in pursuit of such. The answer to your riddle lies within the confines of the wood, you must go in and discover the key to saving our folk from the future you have seen. It is not a safe or easy journey, but I believe that you will find your answer in the Forest's heart. As your lives and the lives of all our folk are now in grave peril, yours upon this venture and all of us in the future you have seen, I would highly advise you to set out with a heart that is ready to face whatever may come, even death or worse."

Tyne said impatiently, "we do not have time to waste listening to more of your sermons; we have a village to save." Ian stared uncomfortably at his feet; Bayard alone seemed to find any interest in the man's words, having heard the same from his own father before his untimely death. His master too was of such a mind yet spoke little upon that or any other matter, but it was obvious in his daily living.

The old man said patiently to Tyne's outburst, "if you cannot waste five minutes now, you may rue it for all of eternity. I will not send you to what might be your death without giving you full warning ere you set out. Now keep silent and listen well, for what I have to say might well save your soul from utter night."

With that, he began his story, "the world was once a very different place, long before the nations of men covered the face of the earth. Back in the days when the world was new and all things were perfect in their beauty, and sorrow had not yet touched the earth. But those days are lost, deep in the mists of time and remembered now only as half-mythic stories, little believed by those who now walk under the sun. But we all long for that time, deep in our hearts are we ever yearning for those days of idyllic peace and joy, for sorrow has touched us deeply and death is our ultimate destiny. For man, in his pride, did that which was not to be done. The only thing forbidden in all creation, that did he do and thus did he sunder the world from perfection and make way for the reign of death and sorrow."

"What did he do?" asked the wide-eyed Ian, who was finding interest in the old tales despite himself.

The old man continued with a smile, "in the heart of the Forest, this Forest in fact, there lies a Spring whose name is Life. Any who drinks unbidden from that well finds only Death, but Life unending is found by those who consume it as they ought. Our forefathers thought themselves fully deserving of that water when it had been forbidden them and in seeking to gain it for themselves so did they break the world. Man was cast from the Heart of the Forest, where he might have lived forever, to live and die in the outer world over which the curse of his own treachery had fallen. And so do we live to this day. The world once teemed with all manner of strange and wonderful creatures, but when the curse befell the world, they had to choose to remain in the mortal world, fallen as it was or to flee back to the Heart of the Forest, forever to dwell beyond death and sorrow, but never again to walk under the mortal sun. Those that remained without, soon fell from grace much as man had, falling away from the things they once knew and seeking their own ways. Gradually men increased and the others diminished, eventually seeking refuge in the outer skirts of the Forest, yet no longer able to penetrate its Heart. So do we find the world today.

It would be a very sad tale, were it fully told, but there was One who was not content to let the world and its inhabitants fall into darkness and death. For He who had wrought all creation could not see it fall and do nothing. He left the Heart of the Forest, and for a time dwelt among mortal men, forsaking all His glory and power to live penniless and despised. They welcomed His miracles and wisdom, but soon enough grew jealous of His power and they disdained His calls for justice, mercy, love, and grace. So they killed Him. He who made Life! But the price of rebellion is Death, yet He was innocent and willingly shed His blood to spare ours. Death could not hold Him and so was its power broken. He lives and we can live in Him. He has paid the price for our wrong doing and sin, but we must be willing to accept His offer on our behalf."

As the old man finished, Tyne sneered, "and what has this to do with anything?"

The seer said quietly, "these visions were not sent by accident. Someone sent them and for a reason. Your only hope lies in the Heart of the Forest, the very place where the old tales begin and end."

"End?" came Ian's query.

The man smiled, "yes, for I have not finished my tale or the Master His. He rose from the grave and returned to His place in the Heart of the Forest, where He waits for those that will to find Him, but He is coming back at the end of days and His faithful with Him. For there are rebels other than man that must be dealt with, and some of these plot against all that the Master holds dear."

"Only a fool would enter that Forest, or even go another day without paying heed to what I have said," said he, "for death is all our destiny but it need not hold us forever. Heed my warning or not, the choice is yours but your blood shall be on your own heads if you choose unwisely, I shall not be guilty of your blood."

Bayard asked quietly, "how are we to accept this wondrous gift you speak of?"

The old man smiled, "simply admit that you are a rebel and a sinner against Him who made All, admit that you cannot rescue yourself from death, accept His blood on your behalf, and strive to live as He would have you."

"Enough!" snarled Tyne, "The day wastes as we sit like old ladies over tea. Let us go!" The others nodded and turned to go, Bayard turned back and briefly thanked their host as they set forth. The old sage shook his head, at least there was hope in one of those lads. He began to pray fervently for the other two.

They knew little of the Forest, save that it was unwise for a mortal man, unless he was a Hero of course, to venture thither but thither were they bound. The three were rather awkward with each other, for Tyne associated with no one his own age in the village and Bayard was kept too busy by his master to have much time for anything else; Ian was rather embarrassed by his poverty. So they walked on in silence until they came to the very edge of The Forest, obvious by the foreboding aura that permeated the Wildwood before them. The path continued on but someone had put up a large sign warning those foolish enough to go forward that further travel was at their own peril. They exchanged a grim look and took a brave step forward, having survived that they tried another and repeated the process until they were well within the confines of the forsaken wood.

Tyne said stiffly, "let us find this hero quickly and then get out of here!"

Ian glanced about at the thick, tangled brush and said, "how does one find anything in here?"

"You do not," came Bayard's quavering voice, "it finds you." He was staring at a black cloaked man astride an equally dark horse that had appeared on the path before them. They knew to their souls that this man, or whatever he was, was not the hero they sought.

Ian and Bayard froze in terror but Tyne took an eager step forward. Said the figure with a grating voice, "lost?"

Tyne stood up straight and said boldly, "we were sent to find someone to help our village."

The creature made a strange sort of wheezing noise that the boys took to be laughter, before it said, "help? There is no help for your village or for any one else for that matter. One must take care of one's self in this world for no one else will do it. Forget your foolish quest and come with me, I can show you how to achieve everything you have ever desired."

Tyne glanced back at his companions, "you guys are staying here?" The pair nodded in terror as Tyne smiled, "good, I will accompany this gentleman, you fellows go ahead and finish your little quest. Give my regards to the hero, who knows, maybe I will return and be the hero you are seeking?" This thought made him smile as he quickly mounted behind the fiend before them. A moment later they had vanished. Ian and Bayard blinked and then exchanged a horrified look, wondering what had come over Tyne. They sighed and continued on their way, for the path behind them had vanished, thus there was no going back.

They walked on for what seemed a lifetime, wondering if the sun would ever set, but time moves differently in such a place, so there was no sense waiting until nightfall to rest, for it might never come. They began to look about for a place to rest, but the path suddenly ended on the edge of a foul, rotting pond, neither felt inclined to drink though both found themselves quite parched. "Now what?" asked Ian in concern, "We cannot go on nor can we go back."

Bayard sat down heavily at the base of a tree and sighed, "I do not know, we cannot just abandon our quest like Tyne."

Ian laughed scornfully, "maybe he had the right of it. Why risk our necks for folk who will never lift a finger to help us in return?"

Bayard was startled by his companion's bitterness, as he said, "but what will come of the village?"

Ian snarled, "let it burn for all I care! Little have they cared for me and mine in our plight. Why should I care about them?"

"An excellent question," said an amused voice, "instead, look to your own future!" Bayard gaped, somehow a small merchant caravan had appeared suddenly beside the fetid pond. Continued the merchant, "come with us and learn how to earn your own bread and see the world all at the same time."

Ian nodded, "that sounds like a grand idea." He smiled wanly at Bayard, "have fun with your quest." The merchant train lumbered off with Ian in its wake, leaving Bayard alone.

He glanced about futilely trying to decide what to do. The wind suddenly came up while the sky darkened as if it might rain, the trees swayed in the wind as leaves were driven before its fury. Bayard looked about in panic, wondering what was coming upon him now. A magpie perched on a branch over the stagnant water, swaying wildly in the wind, "you must enter the Heart of the Forest, lad, if you are to find the Hero you seek. But know that it is death for a mortal man to enter the Heart."

The boy shivered, "there is no other way to save my folk?"

The bird said mournfully, "it is the only way and yet there is no guarantee."

The boy stood and said, "very well, what must I do?"

The magpie squawked eagerly, "you have heart lad! Enter the pool, it is only waist deep in the middle, and walk to the other side." The boy took a step into the water and for a moment hesitated, but then went forward with grim determination, he would do what he must. The world around him darkened to absolute night, the bird had vanished, and he sank in the mud at the bottom of the pool so that he could no longer move forward or back.

On the far bank, a terrible light appeared, a light that threatened to betray all of the boy's secrets and shame. He fell forward in terror and wallowed in the mire with only his head above the water. The light resolved itself into a great unicorn, Who gazed with sad eyes upon the flailing child of men, said He, "will you come?"

The boy trembled, knowing now Who this being was. His heart cried yes, but he turned his eyes away in terror and shame. "Then come," said the Unicorn. The boy tried to move but the mire only gurgled and threatened to pull him deeper. "You cannot come of your own accord," said He, "but if you are willing, there is a way." The boy cried out in despair and the Unicorn turned towards the mire, that His wounded side might be nearest the muck. A single drop of silver blood fell into the pool from a horrible wound near His heart. Light suddenly consumed everything and when it abated, the water was crystal clear and little varicolored stones covered the bottom of the pool. The boy's struggling had ceased and he knelt in awe before He who had wrought the stars and knew them each by name. The Unicorn shook His head, "nay lad, you must be clean. Immerse yourself." The boy plunged beneath the tranquil surface and was consumed by light.

A shepherd seeking a lost sheep found him the next day, floating face down in the fetid pool on the verge of that menacing wood. They fished him out and buried him quietly, no one save his master really grieved for the boy, but none knew what came of his companions or his quest or how he had drowned in so little water. They went uneasily back to their daily routine and wondered what had come of the tediousness that was life as usual in their little village.

The foul water suddenly cleared to crystal blue, once the village folk had returned to their dull lives, and a boy stood in its midst, wondering at all he had experienced in whatever time had passed since his submersion. The magpie sat on his branch and said chattily, "well lad?"

The boy shook his head in wonder, "I hardly know what has happened."

"You Live," said the bird, "but you are dead."

"That I know, but little understand," said the perplexed boy. "What of the Hero I was sent to find?" continued he in great concern.

The magpie cocked his head, "what is a hero but a man who does what he must, when he must, because he knows it the right thing to do even though the odds or the whole world are against him? Look in the pool." The boy looked in the pool and saw his own wavering reflection, as the bird said glibly, "there is your Hero."

The boy smiled in spite of himself, "and how am I to save my village? They just carried off my corpse!"

The bird said eagerly, "this is no job for a mortal man, thus is it a task you can accomplish."

"But..." said the boy, but the bird had vanished.

The boy frowned in consternation but suddenly realized Who that bird had always been. He smiled, remembering those things he had seen and experienced beyond the reach of Time. Whatever might come, his Master was greater than any force or power in the Universe or beyond it, and even more wonderful, He was rich in grace, mercy, and love. He had nothing to fear, now or ever. He took a step towards the edge of the pond but his form liquefied and became indistinguishable from the rest of the water.

His physical form had vanished, apparently composed of pure water, but his mind or spirit or whatever it was, was still in command of itself. Apparently he had to concentrate until he became used to this new lifestyle. He composed himself again and took another step, this time without dissolving back into the pond. He smiled and took another step. As he drew near to the edge, he wondered what would happen when he left the water. His smile deepened and he knew he had only to will himself out of the water. He stepped ashore and turned to look in astonishment, for the pond was utterly dry, the mud at the bottom was cracked, as if in the midst of a long and severe drought.

He stepped back into the dry pond and it filled immediately with cool and joyous water. The magpie chirped a laugh as it flitted overhead, "you cannot leave the water unattended lad. If you go roaming, it must cease to linger lest someone or something drink from it unawares. It has been cleansed by My blood, as have you, it is now sacred and must not be imbibed unbidden or eternal death will be the result." The boy stared in wonder, as He continued, "guard it well." Then He was gone. The boy shivered at what his sins had cost his Maker, but rejoiced in His love as well. He again withdrew from the water and it vanished once more. He thought for a moment and returned to the pond, as did its water. He willed himself to look different that his folk not recognize him; he also thought himself up a horse, and after a moment, knew he needed a sword as well. Now truly looking a hero, he mounted up and rode towards the village that had once been his home.

They were just tamping down the dirt on the boy's grave when a stranger rode into the midst of the village. More curious than grieved, the townsfolk immediately forgot the dead and went to investigate the living. Only the Blacksmith lingered for a few moments, as if in silent goodbye; then he turned and went back to his forge, leaving the rest of the village to gawk and stare at the stranger in their midst. As they approached the stranger, they whispered amongst themselves, for he carried a sword and seemed everything a hero should be.

The girls whispered and giggled excitedly in their own little gaggle, for he was rather handsome as well; if only he was rich they would be well pleased indeed. The Mayor of course was the first to welcome this esteemed personage into the little village, his grown daughters eyed the stranger hopefully and smiled coquettishly over their father's shoulder. Bayard hid his own amused smile, these same smitten ladies would not have given the Blacksmith's apprentice the least of their smiles in former days. The Mayor finished his grand welcome speech and waited for the young man to introduce himself.

Bayard slid from his saddle, bowed politely, and said, "I have heard rumors that you are in need of a hero?" The townsfolk murmured excitedly, one of the lads at least must have gotten the message out; they were saved!

The Mayor cleared his throat and said gruffly, "that is what our esteemed Seer seems to think. You have seen the lads from our village then?"

The man said quietly, "I saw one ride off with a dark and vile fellow, another joined a merchant's caravan, and the other has apprised me of the situation. Can you tell me no more of the situation that threatens your village?"

The Mayor shook his head, "we know as much as you. Perhaps the Seer could assist you, but come, after you speak with him you must join us for a celebration of welcome at the inn."

The man frowned in thought, "I shall see. Where dwells your Sage?" The Mayor seemed a bit insulted that the man was not more excited about his invitation but pointed out the Seer's small house.

The hero thanked the Mayor, bowed in farewell, and led his horse off towards the indicated structure. He knocked upon the door and it was immediately opened. The old sage studied the stranger for a moment before stepping aside to allow him into the house, his eyes held a thoughtful look. The old man offered the younger a chair and then drew his own closer to his guest, said he, "you are different."

Bayard smiled slightly, "how so good Sir?"

The Seer shook his head, "I thought at first it was that you are an outlander and thus more experienced or worldly than these rustics, but the feeling I get is not one of worldliness but rather of something otherworldly, if that is even possible."

The boy smiled fully, "it is quite possible." The boy willed himself to look again as the old man had once known him.

The sage laughed aloud in wonder, "so you have found, or rather become, our hero then, excellent. And those silly folk think they have seen the last of you! And your friends?"

The boy sighed, "Tyne rode off with some evil creature promising to give him his every desire and Ian took off with a merchant's train."

The sage nodded, "I am not surprised, the Forest has a way of weeding out those who seek in vain. I was surprised when they brought you back, apparently drowned in a pittance of water, but I am glad that was not the end of you."

The boy asked, "have you any idea what I am to do here?"

The sage shook his head, "besides fending off love sick girls, I have no clue. But I think you will know when the time comes."

The boy smiled ruefully, "some great evil is certainly going to descend on our village, we go into the Forest to seek rescue, and when a hero is provided, he must sit on his hands and wait! It does not happen like that in the stories."

The sage laughed, "it does actually happen that way, but no one writes down the interminable waits else no one would listen to such a tale. I am sure you will find something to occupy your time."

The old man did not ask nor did the boy speak of what had happened in the Forest, for there were some subjects a mortal mind either cannot comprehend or is forbidden from knowing. The boy smiled, "I suppose I will at that. Speaking of which, the Mayor has invited the famed hero to a small celebration at the inn. Care to join us?"

The seer shook his head, "nay lad, such a gathering holds no interest for me."

The boy grinned, "me neither, but there is something for me to do or see there, so I must go." His host saw him to the door, the boy smiled his farewells then walked boldly towards the inn, the hero once more.

He had been inside the inn only a handful of times, always on some errand for his master. It was quite strange to enter as the celebrated guest of honor, especially when no one would be celebrating if they knew who he truly was. He smiled at the paradox and allowed the Mayor to seat him in a place of honor after assuring him that Lord Brocklehurst had been informed of his arrival and would certainly wish to make his acquaintance before the night was over. So it was that he was introduced to every girl of marriageable age and eyed enviously by boys his own age, while the entire village (save the Blacksmith) celebrated his arrival by consuming too much alcohol and telling him far too many exaggerated tales of themselves and their village. Thankfully they cared nothing for his own history and did not even realize he had never even given them his name. They were too busy trying to impress him with themselves to worry about anything else.

Finally the local (and very minor) Lord's son and daughter made an appearance, the esteemed Lord was far too busy to come himself but sent his son as an emissary and his daughter just in case this hero was actually some young lordling in disguise. Bayard had met Kipril once before when his master had gone to the Lord's manor on business; he had liked the young man immensely but obviously their social status must keep them forever apart. Bayard was quite eager to become more acquainted with the young heir. He stood, bowed deeply, and offered his place to the Lord's children, but they drew up chairs of their own and were soon lost in lively conversation, as their elders grew more intoxicated around them.

Kaya was a lovely girl, as lively and virtuous as she was beautiful; Bayard might have been quite in love with her by the end of the evening if he were not beyond such mortal infatuations. A pity they had not known one another previously, for they would have been great friends. Kaya smiled, as she stood to leave, "so you are not a man of great wealth or title?"

Bayard shook his head, "nay lady, I have neither and am the happier for it."

She smiled sweetly, "glad I am to hear it. My father will hear of me marrying no man but one that has too much of both. So we can simply be friends then?"

Bayard bowed deeply, "certainly dear lady, I am ever at your service."

Kipril smiled, "and we are at yours. I will come to the village tomorrow and we shall resume our conversation, if that is agreeable?"

Bayard nodded, "I look forward to it. Do you require an escort home?"

Kipril shook his head, "we have my father's carriage and a pair of his guardsmen; I think we shall be quite safe. Farewell." They exited the inn and Bayard glanced around, the party was apparently long over, half of the celebrants having fallen asleep where they sat or fell. He felt it quite necessary to escort his new friends home, despite Kipril's assurances, and quickly hastened out the backdoor of the inn.

His horse was waiting (as he had willed the beast) and he was immediately in pursuit of the Lord Brocklehurst's carriage. It was not a long journey or one usually fraught with danger, but tonight would prove to be quite different. They were not far out of the village when the horses screamed in terror and the guards raised their voices in alarm. Bayard rode like a madman into the fray, only to have his horse cut out from under him. The mortally wounded beast melted into a puddle and Bayard tumbled to the ground. He scrambled to his feet, sword in hand, but something struck him through the chest and he suffered the horse's fate. Curiously he could watch what was happening but could not pull himself together for a short time.

Three black cloaked men with swords had disabled the guards and the coachman, Kipril was trying to fight off one of the rogues while the other two snatched his sister. Once they had the girl, they were quickly aback their horses and vanished into the night. Kipril fell to his knees in pain and horror, the anger and fear that had fueled him through the desperate fight had turned to a sickening sort of shock. Only then did he realize he was bleeding. Bayard finally found the ability to pull himself together and did so out of view of the stricken boy. He quickly verified that the others were dead and then approached Kipril, who looked up in despair, "we must go after her."

Bayard said grimly, "we will, but you are in no condition to fight such foes."

The boy paled in anger and said, "I will pursue her, no matter the cost!"

Bayard smiled ruefully, "I meant these are no mortal foes. You have no power over them."

The boy said in astonishment, "I was sure I had struck that fiend a mortal blow! What witchery is this?"

"The vilest form of necromancy, unleashed by the Enemy and his foul minions," said Bayard grimly.

Kipril stood painfully and said, "what must I do to fight such evil?"

Said Bayard, "enter the Heart of the Forest."

Kipril said in wonder, "but that is death to a mortal man!"

Bayard said grimly, "it is the price to save your sister."

Kipril stared at his companion and said in sudden understanding, "you have been to the Heart."

Bayard nodded, "the village needed a hero, as does your sister. I will await you here."

Kipril nodded and took a step towards the Forest, but grimaced and collapsed in pain, "I cannot go, my wounds are greater than I thought."

Bayard said gently, "then let it come to you." He melted into a pool of clear water that glowed with reflected moonlight or at first Kipril thought it was moonlight, but no, it was a great unicorn who stood on the far side of the pool. The boy shuddered but crawled towards the water, his eyes ever on the Master, who said in warning, "it is death to drink of this water!"

The boy nodded weakly, "but I must help my sister."

The Unicorn said gently, "you will help many who desperately need such rescue." The night deepened to utter darkness around him, as the Voice continued, "but at the moment, you can save no one, most especially yourself." The boy felt utterly dirty and wretched before his Maker, but gladly embraced the grace He offered.

The moon again gave her light, reflected as a hazy blur on the surface of the silent, mist-shrouded pool. A young man suddenly stood in the midst of the pond, which vanished as he stepped ashore. The mist however, was reluctant to vanish likewise or knew not what it was about, but after a few moments it resolved itself into a second boyish form, which grinned excitedly at the first, but suddenly remembering his sister's peril, Kipril's excitement turned to grim eagerness. They exchanged a firm nod and then vanished, leaving the silent moon to herself.

A crumbling horse trough, half full of stagnant rain water, served Bayard perfectly as its contents resolved itself into the peculiar lad, while a few tendrils of mist creeping about in the courtyard of the ruinous castle drew themselves together into the form of Kipril. "Who goes?" came the gruff challenge, at which both of the boyish forms suddenly dissolved and vanished. The dark cloaked sentinel glanced about in confusion, certain he had seen something, unaware that the mist solidified behind him until Kipril thrust him through with his sword. The watchman fell to dust and the boys resumed their human forms, creeping cautiously into the depths of the abandoned castle.

As they crept along, Kipril whispered, "this ruin once belonged to my family, many generations back but they abandoned it to live in more comfort in our current home, thinking the days of war and fortresses long past. Of course this is a different sort of war, no wall or moat will keep out such villains as this!"

Bayard smiled, "that is why we are needed: to defend those who cannot protect themselves from such fiends."

In one of the highest towers, a place no mortal man would dare go for fear the whole thing might topple at any moment, they found two more cloaked figures, whom Bayard instinctively knew to be Tyne and his shadowy companion of brief acquaintance, though there was nothing to distinguish any of the darkly cloaked fiends from one another. They had almost no visible form and wore a cloak to conceal their wraithlike appearance from the mortals with whom they were forced to interact. The door had long since rotted to nothing, leaving only a gaping doorway at the top of the stairs. Our heroes entered unnoticed and watched Tyne's pathetic theatrics with Kaya for a few moments before he realized they had an audience.

Sneered Tyne at the girl, "your brother is dead and soon so shall your father be. Marry me and spare your life, and even those of the pathetic peasants whom your family is supposed to guard and protect." She looked some strange combination of terrified, horrified, grief-stricken, and obstinate, but she would say nothing.

The elder Wraith snarled, "you will get nowhere with her in this manner, but perhaps we can use her to manipulate her father."

"No!" said Kipril sternly, "Leave her alone!"

The elder Wraith snarled at Tyne, "I thought you said he was dead?"

Tyne growled back, "he is or should be, I struck him a mortal blow."

The Wraith hissed, "never leave your victim until you are certain he is dead!"

Tyne protested, "you ordered me to capture the girl and disable her companions, and so I did."

The elder scoffed, "that I can see. Who is this other fool?"

Tyne smiled vilely, "I think it is our much vaunted hero."

"Excellent," purred the other, "we can make a certain end of them both, though I had hoped the villagers and our esteemed Lord would blame the murders and kidnapping on our beloved hero. But perhaps they would prefer power to death?" The intruders stared stonily at the elder Wraith, and he said with very little disappointment or surprise, "your loss then."

During the requisite babble, Kipril raced to the side of his overjoyed sister and asked, "do you want to get out of here?"

She smiled joyously, "what are we waiting for?"

The elder Wraith suddenly knew something was horribly wrong with the two interlopers and screeched, "no," as the boy ran to his sister. He threw a dagger at the girl even as the pair grew suddenly misty and vanished; her shriek of pain brought a wicked smile to the creature's unseen lips. Said the elder to Tyne, before turning his attention to the remaining hero, "that dagger is tainted with many a foul spell, it hit the girl and will guarantee her demise with even the most minor scratch." He laughed scornfully at Bayard, "even in his success, your friend has failed, and now we shall see what will come of you. I guarantee it will not be pleasant!"

Bayard did not look the least bit worried and actually seemed rather amused. Tyne thought him an utter fool and scoffed, "so that pathetic peasant found a hero at last? We shall see what comes of your valor and the village you were sent to protect, now that your companion has abandoned you!" Bayard allowed his features to shift slightly into those of the boy Tyne once knew; he stared in amazement and then snarled, "it cannot be! You are the so-called hero?"

Bayard smiled, "you are not the only one who can find his destiny upon such an adventure."

Tyne said in confusion, "but you are dead and buried!"

Bayard nodded, "mortally speaking, yes you are correct, but there is more to life than mortality. At least I am not among the walking dead like you!"

Tyne's face (or what little comprised what should have been his face) contorted in anger as he drew his sword and charged the taunting fool. His sword struck at thin air, nothing remained of his foe but a puddle on the floor; the boy had melted away before his opponent struck. Tyne turned to the elder fiend, "what are they? I thought you said we were invincible?"

"Did I say invincible," pondered the elder sarcastically, "perhaps I meant invisible? Can I help it if the Master meddles with things best left alone? Apparently we now have veritable enemies, though I think they are more a nuisance than a true threat. Stop gaping like an idiot and let us be off."

A small creek chattered gaily, oblivious to the tragedy that had been wrought not far from its stony bed, but the boy who materialized in its midst knew exactly what evil had ensued this night and the scene upon which he next looked was no less dire. Kipril had laid his sister against a tree trunk, not far from where the dead servants and shattered carriage lay, she was pale with pain and fear. He looked grimly upon the rather minor dagger wound as Bayard approached and told that which the Wraith had spoken.

"So even in our triumph, we have failed?" said Kipril sadly.

The Unicorn stepped out of the surrounding woods and said gently, "failure? Only I can bring joy out of tragedy, light out of darkness, and life out of death." The three were suddenly on their knees with heads bowed, trembling slightly in awe and wonder. He spoke gently to the girl, "will you answer My call child?"

With quivering voice and eager eyes, she said, "whatever You would have of me, so shall I gladly do."

His light increased tenfold, obliterating all in and around it save Himself and the girl. The two boys found themselves utterly consumed by the Light, and when they could again think, feel, and take on physical shape, Kaya and the Master were gone. They felt a great urge to search the wreckage that had begun the night's adventure and were not surprised to find the apparently murdered brother and sister amongst the carnage.

Kipril said ruefully, "my father will not be happy."

Bayard shook his head and said with a smile, "and guess who they will blame for this."

Kipril frowned, "you?"

Bayard nodded, "I am the only known man with a sword in the area, save perhaps your father's guards."

Kipril shook his head, "he only had two, so it must truly be your handiwork." He smiled, "I never thought you such a villain."

"What of your sister?" asked Bayard.

The leaves about them suddenly rustled, as if caught in a stiff wind, innumerable small leaves and petals were caught up in the sudden gust and swirled about, resolving themselves into a young woman, who asked demurely, "what of her?" Kipril laughed for joy and embraced the girl, who eagerly returned his greetings and wonder. She looked over the wreckage and said softly, "father will be far from happy."

"No," said Kipril grimly, "he will now be bothered with the task of finding himself a new heir and has no daughter to sell off to the highest bidder."

Bayard frowned in confusion, as Kaya explained, "my father is rather short on affection and long on doing whatever is the most beneficial to himself. He will not be much grieved, save by the annoyance our demise will cause him."

Bayard nodded, "you must take after your mother?" They exchanged a reminiscent smile and nodded vigorously.

Kaya said ruefully, "of which my father did not much approve. She died a few years ago and you would never know that he missed her." She said quietly, "I am not even sure that he does."

The first grey of dawn was creeping into the world and the sound of hooves announced that they would not long be alone. Kipril said, "we had best not be seen. It seems my father has missed us and has sent someone to inquire."

All three melted away before the messenger discovered the tragic scene and rode quickly back to his master to tell of what he had seen. Bayard returned to the inn, sneaking quietly back to the room reserved for him. A few of the revelers were finally awake and blinked dazedly at him as he entered the inn and sought his room. He smiled to himself, it would not be long before they came looking for him. He was quite right, within an hour word of the horrific events of the previous night had reached the village and there was no doubt who must be responsible. He came quietly, with an amused smile on his face, for the terror that he inspired in this once celebratory folk.

The estimable Lord himself was even in attendance, leaving his pressing business momentarily unattended for such an important occurrence; he would see the fiend punished and then return to his work. He looked quite irate, but whether more for his interrupted schedule or for his murdered children, none knew. The sage was brought unwillingly out of seclusion to act as judge on the case, but when it became obvious that he wanted to know all the facts and might give the man a fair trial, he was excused and the Mayor took over as judge.

The murderer was easily convicted and some even thought to accuse him of murdering the very boy who sought him out in the first place, which the Mayor agreed seemed most suspicious and must therefore be true. "Very good," said his Lordship, "see that he is properly punished. I really must be getting back, pressing business you know."

The Mayor paled, "are you not going to punish him?"

His Lordship said impatiently, "if you have not the stomach, send him to the King!" The Mayor did not like the idea of spending several weeks in the same party with a convicted killer in order to escort him to the King for justice, but a rather delightful idea had suddenly occurred to him, and he said, "no, we shall see to it, fear not your Lordship."

"Very good," said he and then he lumbered off to attend to more important matters.

Said one of the villagers in concern, after the Lord had vanished, "you are really going to go through with this?"

The Mayor smiled, "we are going to send him into the Forest and let it take care of matters."

The villager nodded, "an excellent proposition."

They bound his hands behind him and set him on the edge of the Forest and ordered him to go forward, never to return. Bayard shook his head in wonder but stepped forth faithfully and soon vanished amidst the thick vegetation. Feeling they had had justice at last, the villagers returned to their interrupted chores.

It was a matter of simple thought to free himself from the ropes that bound his hands behind his back. He walked on, glancing about with interest, now able to look upon this strange wood without fear or dread. The vegetation soon opened up before him into a little glade where once a little pond might have lingered, but now only cracked mud remained. The boy smiled in delight, strangely feeling as if he had come home; he allowed himself to dissipate, filling the pond once more with clear and lively water. It was joy itself to simply exist for a time without suspicious villagers or fiendish wraiths plotting who knew what mischief about, but his musings were cut short as he heard the approach of strangers. The water turned black and stank of death; an ugly frog crawled out of the murky water and sat on a rotting, scum covered log to see who these intruders might be. Two young men emerged from the Forest, their excitement turning to immediate dismay.

"It is water, certainly," said the first.

The other shook his head, "I would not call it that and I am certainly not going to drink it."

The first laughed grimly, "I suppose you are right, better to die of thirst than be poisoned by this fell pond."

"Look at that ugly frog," laughed the second, "maybe you should kiss it and it will turn into a Princess."

The first snorted, "an ugly Princess, no thank you."

The frog suddenly became a man and the stagnant pool vanished as Bayard stood before them, saying, "I would rather you did not try to disenchant the frog, especially as I am no Princess!" They stared at him agape and he continued with a smile, "this is a supposedly enchanted forest is it not? You yourselves thought that frog might actually be someone, why look so surprised when you are right? Come, it is not safe to linger here."

They exchanged an astonished look but quickly followed after their strange guide, who asked after their adventures. They were brothers, Teak was the oldest and the younger was called Ithril.

Said Teak eagerly, "we have just set out to have an adventure."

Ithril said grimly, "you mean we had no choice. Our mother has been dead for many years and our father has finally decided he would like a woman about the place again. The woman told him she would not have two worthless sons loitering about the house and said it was either her or us. Our father told us to go find our place in the world and slammed the door behind us. We had nowhere else to go."

Bayard was quite astonished, "and you chose to come here?" The pair stared at him, wondering who he was to judge, to which he replied, "I willingly came here myself, but not because I had much of a choice." He then told of the dream and the hoped for hero.

Teak raised his eyebrows, "and now you spend your days as a frog in a fetid pond? Did you ever find the hero? Is your village safe?"

Bayard smiled, "the village is safe, at least for now. The original plot has been thwarted but who knows what will threaten in days to come? As for what I spend my time doing, that is still an excellent question; I am still rather new at this myself." He froze and listened, saying with a smile, "there is a little creek just ahead, you can quench your thirst and fill your bottles there."

The boys exchanged a grin and hurried ahead, leaving their guide for a moment alone. A little mist crept out of the creek bed and resolved itself into Kipril while the trailing branches of a wild rose twisted themselves into Kaya. She smiled at her brother and Bayard, saying, "I shall keep your lads out of mischief. You two can deal with the elves." She raised her hand in farewell as she skipped merrily down the path towards the creek, leaving the boys to exchange a wondering look. The elves?

Only moments later did each feel a spear at his throat and heard a gruff voice ordering them to follow. They exchanged a rueful smile and meekly allowed themselves to be led off by their captors. They were marched awkwardly along for about half a mile and then were driven to their knees; the spears were never far from their persons. The elves were human in shape but much taller, slimmer, and more graceful than ever a man could hope to be. They moved as easily through the tangled wood as if they were deer. Their eyes were hard, full of pride and contempt for all lesser folk. Bayard was quite glad his erstwhile companions had not fallen into their hands.

"What have you here captain?" asked a regal female voice.

Said one of their captors with great deference, "trespassers my Lady, too close to your person to allow them to range freely."

She stepped into view and smiled icily at the prisoners, "you know to look upon me is death?"

Bayard said calmly, "had we any choice in the matter my Lady?"

She sniffed, "what is that to me? You should not even be in these woods! You are fortunate something else did not find you first. At least my people will give you a quick death."

"Why so severe a punishment for idle wanderers, lady?" asked Kipril curiously.

She smiled slightly at his boldness and said, "I suppose you might as well know the reason for your doom. It has been foretold that I will love a mortal creature and must forsake my people and immortality that I might spend a lifetime among mortal men. Thus has my father decreed, and I quite agree, that any mortal man found anywhere near me must die."

Bayard stared at her, "how many have needlessly died in your attempt to thwart prophecy?"

She smiled at him contemptuously, "you think a mortal's pathetic life means anything to my kind?"

Bayard stood and said grimly, "you think you can thwart Prophecy? If it is true Prophecy it cannot be prevented, many have tried to their own detriment!" Her face was hard as stone at his insolence, she nodded curtly, and the elven warriors thrust their spears through their prisoners, who immediately vanished. They stared in astonishment and a shudder coursed up every spine as the world about them darkened, save a small luminescence that hung about an otherwise innocuous bird.

But this Bird had called creation out of the void and called each of the stars by name; He cared deeply for each of His creatures, especially those made in His image. "You shall be what you most despise," said He to the quaking elves, "that you may learn to have mercy on those you deem less than yourselves and perhaps in your newfound humility you shall seek out your true Master and thus spare your souls from eternal night." The sun shone forth once more but the elves could not look on her with joy as once they had, for they knew their days were now numbered and that one day they would see her no more.

The elven Princess was on her knees weeping, as were her maidens about her. Her small retinue of guards and servants just stared blankly, not believing what had come to pass. The vanished boys drew themselves together once more. The Princess dried her tears and gained her feet, staring at the pair in horror, demanding, "what have you wrought? What fell curse has befallen us for your sake?"

Bayard frowned, "for our sake? This is for your sake and the sake of all those who might fall afoul of your father's dictum!"

She screeched in a very unladylike fashion, "for my sake? How can this be for my benefit?"

Kipril shook his head, "the Master cares little for your perceived ideas of what is best for yourself. He cares only for your soul and what is best for it and all the other souls with whom you have interaction. You would not seek Him in your former way of life, but perhaps now that you are bereft of that which you cherished most, you shall pursue Him with joy."

She sighed deeply and said, "if this is your Master's work then I wish nothing more to do with Him, or you. Be gone!"

The pair exchanged a pained look but bowed politely and left the lady's presence, unable to interfere unbidden in mortal affairs. As they withdrew, they heard the captain say, "what shall we do Lady? We cannot return to your father in this state!"

"No," said she with a sob, "we must find a way to restore our previous condition if ever we are to live amongst our own kind again. We had best find somewhere to take shelter until we can determine how to reverse this curse." They mounted their horses and soon vanished into the tangled wildwood.

"What will come of them?" asked Kipril, as they sought out Kaya and her charges.

Bayard shook his head, "I know not." Then he smiled slightly, "save that the Princess will one day love a mortal."

Kipril grinned, "that will be a strange day indeed!"

"Did someone say something about a Princess?" asked Teak, as he stepped out of the undergrowth.

Bayard smiled, "yes, we just had an interesting interlude with an elven Princess."

Ithril joined them and asked hopefully, "is she in distress perhaps?"

Kipril nodded, "she is quite distraught but I do not think she will be very happy to see a mortal man for a very long time to come."

Bayard nodded grimly, "she has much to think about before she will be comfortable with who and what she is."

Kipril frowned, "but who she is has not changed at all, just what she is."

Bayard agreed, "she has been so focused on the what that she forgot to nurture the who, which means she has a lot of growing to do as a person." The brothers had no idea what the pair was going on about but it seemed this princess at least was not what they were looking for at the moment. Dragons they could possibly slay, but this? No way! Monsters and villains they could handle, but who ever understood women, especially of the fairy sort?

"So you want an adventure?" queried a sinisterly familiar voice, "A way to make your way in the world and establish yourself as a man of power and wealth?"

"You might be better off with the elves," remarked Bayard wryly, "at least they'll only kill you!"

Both boys shuddered, Teak asking wanly, "what is this apparition?"

"A man who has sold himself utterly to evil," said Bayard stonily, "the end of his offers can only lead to death or the same, ware his poisoned words!"

"Hush, ghost!" snapped Tyne irritably, stepping out of the brush and into full view of the boys, "You will only lead them into disaster, spending their lives futilely on some noble cause, whereas I can offer them true power and a future!"

"And a living death," said Kaya grimly.

Trembled Ithril, "I don't like the feel of you sir, not in the least, please be gone from us!" Teak nodded, trembling in terror, but firm in his agreement.

"There you have it, shadow!" said Kipril, drawing his sword, "They have made their decision and if you will not remove yourself, you will be removed..." He gasped and faded to mist as a dagger took him suddenly in the back as Tyne's companion revealed himself.

"That's the only way to deal with those prattling ghosts!" said the thing, well pleased with itself. Kaya and Bayard exchanged a curious look, each shrugged, and eagerly drawing their swords, they charged the wraiths. Tyne got his own blade up in time to block Bayard's incoming thrust, but the second was too preoccupied with gloating to notice before it was too late. It screamed and fell to ashes at her feet, a broad smile radiant on her face. And as Bayard tangled with Tyne, she took advantage of the villain's distraction to do to him what his evil comrade had done to her brother, easily stabbing him in the back, whereat he too faded to nothingness.

Teak bowed grandly to Kaya, a sheepish smile on his face, "you are certainly a dread warrior milady!"

"Only to those undead fiends," said she with an easy smile, and slashing at him with her sword, he jumped back but not in time, though both brothers goggled to see that he hadn't taken the least injury, at which they both laughed in rueful relief.

"What are those things, what are you?" demanded Ithril, still staring in disbelief at his uninjured brother.

"Men," said Bayard, sheathing his blade as if he had done so every day of his life, "beyond death and time, but men still. We are sworn to the Master's service, but those things are in the Enemy's thrall."

"The Master?!" said Teak, his eyebrows nearly burying themselves in his hairline, "You really believe in those fairytales?"

Kaya smiled archly, "can you truly ask such a question in the Fairywood?"

Ithril burst out laughing, "she has you there brother, but I think they have earned a fair hearing, think you not?"

"They have at that," agreed Teak, strangely eager for the telling thereof.

"And the best part about this particular fairytale," said Bayard in anticipation, "besides the fact that it will never end, and only gets better and better with every page, but it also happens to be true!"

More Dancing

Just another ball: another wasted night of blighted dreams, another morning of regrets and bitterness and melancholy, worse than the lingering effects of too much alcohol, too little sleep, and sensory overload. The stories all said it was the only proper way for a young lady to find true love, well the only commonly accessible means, there was the dragon strategy but as the beasts were rather scarce, only the privileged few ever attempted that particular method. But as far too many aging belles now understood all too painfully, a hot, seething mass of frivolously minded people flailing about in time to the music did little, if anything, to lubricate the wheels of romance. One could scarcely hear oneself think, let alone strike up a conversation and certainly not a relationship, but year after year, a new crop of eager young romantics flung themselves wholeheartedly, and rather haphazardly, into the social craze, knowing their dreams must and would come true, only to find themselves exhausted, disillusioned, and disheartened by month's end.

Each fickle little maiden spent hours primping and preparing for her debut, only to have her carefully arranged gown crushed by the rabid throng or spilled upon by some passing lout, her expensive shoes heartlessly trodden upon and her toes mercilessly smashed, her carefully coifed hair soon disheveled and sneered at by some pernicious society matron, and her glowing heart and bright eyes doused by indifferent reality. Year in and year out, it was exactly the same, but no one ever seemed to learn or wonder why society continued to subject itself to such inane and vain torment.

Such were her grim musings as she wandered the darkened gardens alone, with only the stars above looking on to wonder at her unseemly behavior, if indeed they did watch her incessant pacing, for they probably had far more important business to be about than pondering the wanderings of one daughter of men. While many a maiden had had her nascent dreams squelched as harshly as a budding rose touched by an untimely frost, she wondered if the gentlemen had not a worser, or perhaps a more pitiable, lot, especially those upon whom fortune or providence had lavished titles, wealth, or land. For though many a wide-eyed little doe fawn, snubbed by all and sundry, quickly learned her own insignificance, she at least escaped the pack of ravening wolves intent on bringing to ground any eligible young buck that ventured into their territory. Once caught, the poor creature was doomed to spend a lifetime keeping company with someone whose only virtue was perhaps a rich father or a noble grandsire. Better a wild rose, overlooked in a hedgerow, than the finest domestic flower plucked up to adorn the hair of a venomous lady.

Thus did she console herself as she paced the shrubberies, keeping tryst with the flitting moths and an irascible old owl, repeatedly asking his unanswerable questions from the boughs of a great oak in a far corner of the dim gardens. She was the middle daughter of a wealthy merchant and happily had no dire need to marry well but neither was she considered a prize catch by a man on the hunt for fortune or title. Why did she keep attending such frivolous events? The owl echoed her question, as if in chorus of her silent thoughts, and she could not help but burst out laughing, another unseemly display, but overlooked by the pensive stars. She sighed and wondered if her siblings were yet tired of dancing, else she would have to walk home or skulk in the gardens until nearly dawn. If she were a boy, she could hie herself off to some foreign land under her father's auspices and expand his commercial empire, but as a young lady, she was forced to maintain all the appearance of such, at least to the best of her abilities, which were not naturally great in that particular arena. She took a swing at a nearby flower stalk with the stick she had been mindlessly holding, wishing it were indeed a sword and the weedy stem a robber baron that she might smite at will.

"I do believe the King employs a small army of gardeners, milady," said a voice behind her, as she colored from head to toe and turned suddenly about to face her interlocutor, continued he, "you need not fight so fiercely against such weedy villains."

"I suppose not," said she, hoping he would not notice her scarlet face in the murky shadows, but anger was quickly replacing embarrassment as she overcame her initial surprise and began to wonder just who this intruder was and why he thought he had any right to judge her behavior.

He seemed to be reading her thoughts, for an amused smile overspread his previously neutral face, said he graciously, "forgive me, I meant neither to startle you nor condemn your behavior." His smile became rueful, "I was merely astonished to find a well bred young lady involved in such uncanny proceedings though I was in nowise disappointed by such a discovery."

"Who are you?" asked she, eager curiosity blossoming suddenly where anger had tried to take root, equally astonished at the young man's behavior and cordial words, where cruelty or condescension would be the expected result.

"Nobody," said the boy, his countenance glowing with pure mischief, "nobody of the least interest or import, at least not as our fellow celebrants would see it."

She gave him a grand curtsy, "it is a pleasure to meet you at long last sir," laughed she like a merry fountain, "for certainly we must be related, for that is exactly my name and lineage as well."

His return bow was just as grandiose, and his reply everything genteel, "of a certainty madam, it is always agreeable to meet one of my kinswomen. And I suppose you are likewise employed in that noble and meritorious art of 'nothing in particular' as well?"

"What would those sneering matrons think," giggled she in a manner very likely to call down said sneers upon herself, "if they could see the manner in which we comport ourselves?"

He put a hand to his mouth to stifle a faux yawn, "madam," sighed he, "there is nothing less interesting to my mind than thinking what those heartless old biddies must think, or more likely, don't, upon any matter, most particularly the noble art of nothing in particular and the great and ancient house of Nobody."

"Quite right," agreed she, barely stifling another giggle.

"Bayard!" grated a harsh voice out of the shadows, immediately squelching all mirth and lightness of heart, "Who is this minx?"

Overcoming her momentary startlement, Elenor drew herself up and turned to face the impertinent stranger who dared use such language in the very presence of a lady, ready to give him an earful, but she never got the chance, for she had barely opened her mouth when suddenly she vanished, seeming to melt away like mist in the dawning. The darkly clad intruder laughed maliciously to himself and turned once more to face his nephew, who stood there gaping in astonishment and horror, gasped the boy, "where is she? What have you done?"

"What does it matter?" snarled the man, "You know what you should be doing; it is your own fault! Now go back inside and make a worthwhile alliance rather than treating with some nameless hussy in the shadows or worse shall befall you than what came of your flirtatious little tart."

The boy's countenance darkened and the man suddenly knew the boy was a child no longer, his brother's son was finally a man and would no more stand to be pushed, prodded, or led unwillingly about. A cruel smile grew on the man's lips, chilling the suddenly risen wrath of the lad, who drew back in terror and vanished into the swirling mass of humanity, foolishly thinking there was safety in the crowded and well lit hall. The villain's grim smile only deepened as he vanished again into the empty shadows of the garden, deciding how best to both make use of and dispose of the rebellious boy. One did not need an heir if one lived forever, tantalizing thought indeed! Alone once more, the old owl resumed his questioning of the night air, happily ignorant of the plights and plots of mortal men.

Elenor's mouth snapped shut, unable to give her reprimand to the villain and unwilling to scream like a little girl startled by a spider, she was resolved to face whatever this strange adventure like a proper heroine, or at least as she thought a lady of courage and honor would face such a circumstance, suddenly unable to recall any female heroes in all the many tales she was wont to read; she smiled grimly, suddenly determined to write her own and rectify the matter as soon as she could come by paper enough. Once that aspiration was settled to her satisfaction, she glanced about her, hoping for inspiration or perhaps a tale of her own to one day recount, for certainly this was the place to find stories in plenty. She seemed to be in a vast wood, swathed in endless mist, either upon the verge of dawn or twilight, she was not quite sure, for a great, golden light bathed everything about her while more stars than she had ever beheld spangled a sky so deeply blue and mysterious that the depths of the distant sea must be envious.

Gone was her fashionable, but certainly uncomfortable and secretly loathed, garb, but rather she was clad (most scandalously to all her former acquaintance, thought she in vast amusement) in a simple gown as gossamer as the enshrouding mists, blue as the twilit sky, and as begemmed with minute, jewel-like stars; her feet were unshod and her hair hung loose about her shoulders, as she was wont to run wild in what seemed the ancient days of her girlhood. Springy green turf cushioned her feet and she relished the cool, familiar feel upon her soles much as a prisoner long held in darkness and chains suddenly feels for the common light of day and the free wind upon his face, so long had her toes been imprisoned thus in the cruel and unyielding fashions of the day. So it was she loosed all restraint and went dancing and laughing, whirling and singing through the mists, heedless of all danger or disapproval, for she herself felt as free as her feet. No glowering sorcerers or society matrons leered out of the trees to reprove her, nor did she feel the least bit afraid in this uncanny place, but rather that all the joy and wonder of childhood and fairyland were hers once more, the very wind seemed to sigh about her in something akin to music, but far fairer, nay, it hummed with Joy itself.

For how many minutes or lives of men she thus cavorted through that rapturous mist, insensible to all but the ecstasy of being, was impossible to tell, but at last she mastered her merriment and stood gazing about her once more, but nothing had changed. The sun, or whatever was the source of that golden light, had neither risen nor set. The trees still stood about in their silent, solemn ranks, as did the stars in their courses above, while the mist shrouded everything, here golden as fine wine in the lamplight and there blue and mysterious as the sky above. What a strange, wonderful place!

"Welcome, sister!" rejoiced a sudden voice, trilling with the gathered sweetness of all the birds of Spring.

"Welcome indeed," said another voice, this one not audible but no less certain, bright and shining as an earthbound star.

Elenor blinked in surprise, and then smiled broadly in welcome, for where there had been nothing but mist and trees but a moment before, there now stood an elfin maiden and a unicorn, and it was the elf maid that had called her sister. And somehow she knew it to be true, for here, wherever 'here' was, there was no rank, callous and cold, rigidly maintained and jealously guarded, for whether you were an elf, a man, a unicorn, or something beyond the experience and naming of mortal tongues, it little mattered, for everything simply Was, and it was enough.

"What a wonderful place," sighed she at last, not that the same had not been said by every soul that had strayed therein, but no less true or obvious for all of that.

"Certainly," giggled the elfin lady. Elenor could not help but giggle herself at the elf girl's merriment over her own inanity, for did not the stories hold such folk to be either mischievous and troublesome towards mortal folk or so high and mighty, cold and distant that they little troubled themselves with mortal affairs? But that was in the outside world, Here, all found themselves on an equal footing, with nothing to be ashamed of nor to boast about, no more than the forest trees found reason to compare their various height, girth, or foliage.

"What will you do?" asked the far more pragmatic voice of the unicorn in Elenor's mind, for his folk were not made to speak with intelligible words, at least to such folk as elves and the children of men.

"Do?" said Elenor, all astonishment, "I hardly know where I am, let alone what might be asked of me."

The elf girl giggled anew, "are you not always preaching patience to we far more hasty and flighty folk, Arin?"

"Perhaps," came his voice again, no little amused, "but she must decide whither she will go and what she will do ere you take her hand and flit off together through all the hidden vales of the Wood."

"Of course she will venture out of the Twilight and on into the Dawning," said the elf maid in confusion, "we all do so eventually, but first there is much I am sure she would like to see ere we are parted."

The wondrous creature shook his beauteous head in vast amusement at the girl's misunderstanding, said he, "nay child, that is not the choice I speak of. She might yet venture forth into the mortal world, if that be her choice."

"Truly!" said the elf maid in astonishment, "I did not think such was the lot of the mortal race?"

"In most cases you would be correct," said he, "but she has unwittingly become entangled in a tale most strange. There are those amongst the mortal race that long for immortality, little understanding that it is the birthright of all created souls, but they would have it out of place and time, achieved by a means contrary to the laws of the created order; likewise they would have power far outside the ken and allotment of mortal men. It is one such that sent her here before her appointed time, thus she is given the chance to return, if she will, and counter his vile plots."

The elfin maid glanced about her in wonder, horror, and pity, "but who would trade This, for aught else?"

"The fathers of men," said the unicorn with a sad shake of his head, "and ever their descendants grasp for what was never meant to be theirs."

That fair elfin brow furrowed, "but I thought it was forbidden for one who has walked in the Twilight to venture forth therefrom, save to go further in and seek the Dawn, most especially one of the children of men?"

"It is forbidden for us to go forth of our own accord, certainly," replied he, "but there have been various instances wherein folk have gone out from among us into the mortal world upon certain errands for our Master and this is just such a circumstance. But such messengers will not find a warm welcome among men, for they did not receive the Master Himself with any joy, how much less the least of His servants?"

At last Elenor spoke, rather overwhelmed by all she had seen and heard, but finally mastering her mind and tongue, "I can go back?!" She glanced about as wistfully as the elf maid and asked with as much astonishment at the very idea, "but how ever could I manage it, after...This!?"

The unicorn said softly, "for This will always be Here, child, at least until Something Better comes. You certainly have a choice: remain here and eventually seek the Dawn, or go back and do there what is asked of you."

"And if I don't go back?" asked the girl.

He shook his head, "none can know the might have beens or the should haves, child, but if you do not go, no one will."

Her wistful smile grew thoughtful and a frown marred her brow, "you said I 'came here before time,' what does that mean?"

"Providence has a plan and a purpose in all things, child, even the day of your death was written ere the stars were lit and long before the fathers of men wakened to gaze in wonder upon them, but the course of things can change, at least in the mortal world, where the flawed and rebellious thoughts and deeds of men, and of our Master's great Enemy and his various servants, often defy His plans and intentions, and woe to those who thwart His will, for they do so only to their own peril and that of all the world. A vile sorcerer cut short your life with his forbidden magicks, child, from what it should have been, not that you can go back and pick up the thread as if nothing had happened, as if you are some character in a storybook tale that pauses until the reader again takes up the tome. Having entered the Twilight, you can return to the world you knew at our Master's behest, but you cannot again live among mortal men as one like unto themselves. Rather you will complete your errand, whatever it be, and then return to your rightful home, which is the Twilight and Beyond."

"Why me?" asked the girl in some surprise, knowing herself to be neither warrior nor sage nor saint.

The unicorn's smile was pure mischief, "the villain saw you as a mere nuisance, destroying a life upon a whim, kicking you aside like an annoying dog underfoot; whatever might have been your tale, it was cut short and now will never be told, and for nothing! But that wizard's meddling will turn to bite him in the end and by what he considers weakness and folly will his power be overthrown, at least if you agree to such a venture."

The girl's smile mirrored his own, "when you say it like that," said she, "how can I not agree?" Her smile deepened, "and somehow, I do not think I shall miss anything Here."

"No," said he, "the Twilight simply Is, it does not change and Time here is not. You can go forth for an age of the outer world's perception and return having missed not even a heartbeat in ours."

"Then why would I even consider remaining when there is something I must do ere my heart can rest content Here?" asked she, suddenly perplexed.

"Did I not say it will be a rather uncomfortable and perhaps distressing reception by the world you once knew?" asked he, "For they killed our Master most cruelly upon His own visit there; imagine how they'll treat His handmaiden."

She smiled broadly at him, "but what is the derision of the whole world to the merest smile of our Lord?"

"Truly spoken child," said he, "already you begin to think as you ought."

"Then I suppose I should act thusly as well," said she with a wistful look at the elf maid, but smiling broadly she added, "though I must wait for a little to explore all this Twilight Wood with you, my friend, to your perception it will be but a moment, or so our companion seems to imply."

The elf girl brightened immensely and said joyously, "then off with you, that the sooner in your own perception we can venture into all the glens and hollows of this wondrous land." Elenor raised her hand in farewell and smiled joyously in return as the mist suddenly thickened around her and when it thinned, naught was to be seen but the stems of innumerable trees, not that either the unicorn or the elf maid remained to see it, for they too had vanished into the shrouding brume.

Bayard's horse was stumbling in weariness, he was lathered with sweat and breathing loud enough to drown out the distant sound of his pursuers, but it was not what came behind that nearly froze the boy's heart in his breast, but rather what lurked ahead, for he was being driven as surely as a hart before the hounds into the Wood. The Wood of Mist and Shadow, or so the legends sang and old wives called it in their dreadful tales round a dying fire, and he was being driven into it, a place unfit for mortal men to tread.

He had pushed his way through the thronging mass of revelers at the ball, oblivious to either his wrath or terror, and had mounted his horse and fled the palace, and he hoped his uncle's reach, but alas, he had no sooner entered the open country outside the city than the sound of distant pursuit came to his ears, and thus did they herd and harry him over field and fen, unto the very verge of this forsaken Wood, but plunge in he must, for he knew if they caught him his end would be miserable indeed, at least in this place of legend, or so he hoped, there was a slim chance he might escape or at least meet a more merciful end.

His horse could go no further, nor could any goading or terror drive him into such a Wood, even had he not been in the grip of exhaustion. Bayard leapt from the saddle, rolled over the turf, and plunged afoot into the looming trees. He heard the nervous whinnies of his pursuers' mounts as they drew rein some distance from the Wood and their malicious laughter as they sat their saddles, making sure he hied himself into the Wood, never more to be seen under sun or star or by any that yet walked beneath them. Once the boy was lost within its shadows, they turned their weary horses and rode slowly back the way they had come.

Bayard found himself on a narrow path that seemed to wander aimlessly through an endless army of trees, nowhere could he see an end to the forest though he was barely three steps within its bounds. On either side of the path he felt an imminent dread, his mortal flesh quivered to step off the miniscule trail. To the left of the path was all shadow and darkness and seething evil; to the right all was lost in a swirling vapor of mist all shot through with a wan light of the barest gold, like the last lingering rays of a vanished evening sun. He knew to stray from that path to either side would be his mortal undoing, in one way or another. To the left seemed to roil a tempestuous sea of misery, horror, and fear while the right was awash in a dreadful awe that promised to prostrate the proudest heart in fear and trembling, before what or whom, Bayard dared not even imagine. He turned his eyes forward and began to walk, refusing to look either to the right or the left, perhaps he could walk out as easily as he had entered.

He had walked for years, or perhaps moments, it was impossible to tell in that dreadful wood, all he knew was that he was tired, thirsty, and hungry, but it seemed he walked amidst a late autumn wood upon an overcast afternoon, never did the light lessen or increase, a chill wind rattled a few dead, clinging leaves lingering on the mournful branches and moaned fretfully in the firs but otherwise there was no sound except the steady tread of his boots upon the stony path; never did a spring or singing brook appear to slacken his thirst nor squirrel or bird invade the eerie loneliness of the place. He finally stayed his flight, for it seemed all his walking had brought him no closer or further from the place where he had begun, for all places looked the same in that interminable wood. At last he did the only thing he could: he sat down and cried.

Some hero, he thought wryly, lost forever in this hopeless forest and wailing like a lost child because of it. At least there was no one there to see it. Except the strange girl from the palace gardens, what seemed a lifetime ago. He shot to his feet and stared at her, she smiled back, as if at some secret joke, but happily made no mention of his recent outburst of unseemly emotion. Said he rather lamely, too discomfited to carry on a decent conversation, "so this is where my uncle sent you?"

She glanced about, her eyes lingering on those strange mists, deepening that secret smile, and then meeting his gaze, "more or less."

"Is there a way out?" asked he eagerly.

"Certainly," said she.

"Good," sighed he in relief, "for I had heard none who ventures within ever escapes alive."

"They don't" said she bluntly.

His jaw fell open, he shut it with a click and frowned at her, "but you said..."

He trailed off as she shook her head sadly, "there is a way out, either into the Dark or into the Mists, but not to the life and world you knew."

He sighed and sat down heavily, burying his face in his hands, "then what are we to do?"

That secret smile twitched at one corner of her lips, "I am going to thwart your uncle in whatever it is he intends; you must decide which way to go."

He shot to his feet and stared at her, "which way? My uncle?!"

She nodded, that smile now in full bloom but mysterious and eager, "you can stay here and die of thirst, venture into either the Mists or the Dark, or continue on and meet whatever end your uncle intends to mete out and thereby further his dark schemes."

"What of you? Can I not help foil my uncle rather than feeling his fell knife?" asked he desperately.

She shook her head sadly, "I've already made my choice."

"So there is life at least upon one of these paths?" asked he skeptically.

"All men must choose their own doom, sir," replied she, "it is no different in life than it is here, save that the paths lie physically before your eyes rather than being a mere metaphysical concept beyond the reach of the mortal senses."

He shivered, glancing into the Dark, "you say there is life in either choice, for I begin to think death by whatever means will still fling me either into the Mists or the Shadow, yet the Dark seems to reek of death."

"Quite true, a veritable living death it is, for it sunders a soul for all eternity from all light and life and joy, beauty, peace, and love," said she sadly.

"And the Mists?" queried he, "Are they not a place of death too?"

She smiled wistfully, as if remembering some wondrous dream, "merely the death of our pride, shame, selfishness, spiritual blindness, and evil nature, but thereby is our true self fully birthed. And therein is life indeed."

"It seems an obvious choice," said he, glancing into the whelming mists, but shuddering in mortal dread.

"It should be," said she, "but most would rather live forever with their assumptions of how reality and they themselves should be rather than with the reality of what they truly are."

"A hard truth, milady," sighed he, "but better than an eternal lie. What must I do?"

"You can step willingly into the Dark," said she solemnly, "if that be your wish, it welcomes all comers eagerly and consumes them utterly, but to enter the Mists, you must surrender everything, all your suppositions, aspirations, glory, and foul deeds, everything you wish, hope, dread, and desire. Go forth honestly admitting that you are dust, and even that is not of your own doing."

"It seems an impossible thing," gaped he.

"It is," smiled she, and he envied that smile, so content, so happy, deep beyond mortal comprehension, "were it a thing of our own doing, but He has opened the door and Calls each unto Himself, we need only step through." He heard the emphasis on the pronoun and shivered, suddenly dreading Who this mysterious Master of the Mists might be.

With another shiver, he said quietly, "very well, milady, I shall commit myself to this mysterious Master of yours, may He have mercy upon me!" But she was gone. With a final shudder, he plunged into the swirling mist.

The shadows and gloom writhed about him like tree shadows tossed by a tempest or dark flames tormented by a sudden gust of wind, but he ignored them and waited, wondering where the dratted boy had lost himself, certainly he couldn't be fool enough to plunge into either the Shadow or the Mist, and he had given his henchmen strict orders not to actually catch their prey, merely to harry it into the Wood.

"He isn't coming," laughed a dreadful voice derisively, "you have promised my master much mortal, and he is impatient, very impatient. It would be wise to keep him waiting no longer."

"And become a thing like you," scoffed the vile mage, "a slave and a shadow of evil?"

"It is better than what awaits those who try my master's patience too sorely," hissed the voice.

"How do you know the wretch comes not?" snarled the wizard.

That cold, cruel laughter came again, "ever the Enemy meddles in matters that do not concern Him. At His feet you can lay this disaster, yet another reason to seek my master's aid, for only he can give you the power you need to thwart the plots of the Enemy and send His servants flying like night shadows before the dawn! Else you can merely be trampled underfoot and spend all eternity mulling over your futility and failure. The choice seems obvious to me."

"Just a little longer," panted the man, anxiously, "I still have a scheme or two that might fulfill my vows to your master and benefit my own position as well."

"Hurry along then, little ant," snickered the shadowy fiend, "but remember well, that the bill may come due at any time, and my master will not deal kindly with one who tarries long in paying what he owes." The man shuddered, but quickly vanished from that place ere the shadows and gloom swallowed it up and draped it in an eternal, disquiet night.

The boy blinked and then blinked again, but the night dark palace gardens neither wavered nor vanished while the strident sound of music and jumbled voices from the revelry within still filled his ears. And there stood the girl, in all her glorious indifference to the opinions and sneers of others, as she had stood ere the coming of his vile uncle. Had it been a dream? He shook his head, trying to clear it, for a vision too wonderful for words, nay for mortal mind to contain, still filled his very being with awe as waters the sea. And then she smiled at him, as she had done on that Forsaken Path through the Wood, that enigmatic, wonderful smile, but now he too could smile like that and knew, nay he Was, everything at which it hinted and teased.

"What a night," sighed he at last.

"A night and an eternity," mused she, more to herself than to him.

"Do you understand any of this?" implored he.

"Not in the least," smiled she, "where would be the adventure in that?"

"No adventure, certainly," said he, a smile of wry amusement twisting his countenance, "but I fear I've had adventures enough to last a lifetime!"

"Don't be ridiculous," laughed she, "neither of us have had much of a lifetime, adventures or not, and whatever we are to accomplish here, it is nothing compared to the tale we'll find afterwards."

"I suppose you must be right," said he, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "for the world could ill contain the least of our adventures thus far and we've had but the barest sip!"

"Truly spoken," agreed she, "it is all the difference between reading a story and being in one. This whole world is but words upon a page, while all that waits Beyond is the real story."

"How blind I have been," sighed he.

"As are all mortal men," said she.

"Quite true," mused he, "but at least you had an inkling that there was a Story, and an Author behind it. It is rather a shock to think yourself a 'real' person only to discover that you're simply a character in a storybook, one intended to be Real and three dimensional, but what you took for 'reality' was merely an outline of the actual tale, the barest retelling imaginable!"

"But now you know," smiled Elenor, "and we had best begin our own tale, ere the tale of the world winds down and yet our errand remains unaccomplished."

"That would not do at all," agreed he, offering her his arm, "I was about to ask you for a dance ere we were so rudely interrupted. May I?"

She gave him a very proper curtsy and a well pleased smile, "certainly, sir!" They entered the crowded hall arm in arm and soon lost themselves in the swirling throng.

Such a Delightful Weakness

Love, it was such a delightful weakness, these pathetic humans couldn't help themselves; it was written into their very souls. All their so-called great tales were full of it; it was all their unwed maidens talked of, and it would be the downfall of the Kingdom, as it had once brought about the greatest triumph the Shadow had ever known: the very death of their greatest enemy, he who claimed to be Love itself. So much for happy endings!

The girl approached, right on schedule, skipping merrily down the forest path, stopping occasionally to study some bud or butterfly that caught her fancy, a bundle of wildflowers in her hands. The flowers fell to the ground, her terrified shrieks rent the morning air as six raggedly clad scoundrels stepped out of the surrounding trees, completely encircling her. He allowed her terror to steep for a few moments, until it was of the proper potency, as the fiends leered, snickered maliciously, and stroked their weapons in anticipation, then he stepped out of the comfortable woodland shadows into the glaring light of the sun, ready to save the maiden, and the day.

The mercenaries were rather surprised to see their employer suddenly in their midst, and even more perplexed as he started lashing out at them left and right with his sword, had he not paid them to waylay the girl? Whatever he had paid them, it was not enough, their ire soon overcame their surprise and they set upon the man, the girl momentarily forgotten, but they stood no chance against this particular foe and fell as helplessly before his blade as the girl would have perished upon their own. As the last villain expired upon the sward, the girl fell to her knees in relief and wonder and then sank upon the turf, her head in her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. The seeming hero smiled in anticipation, waiting for the girl to gain control of herself, but knowing his plan was soon to bear fruit.

She soon mastered herself and stood, graciously thanking him again and again, begging him to return with her to the palace that the King her father might properly repay his heroics. He demurred, saying it would not be proper, but she insisted all the more, until at last he relented. Offering her his arm, she gladly took it and they sauntered back the way she had come, her girlish heart aflutter with dreams of the hero beside her and what might come of this fortuitous meeting.

The King was astonished at the news of banditti in the woods abutting the castle, but neither was he insensible to what he owed this man, perhaps his daughter's very life, and it was not as if he were a peasant or a man of little fortune, it even appeared the girl already had her heart set upon that very thing; the man's reward would be great indeed and none could oppose such a match, for was this not providence itself? The King asked graciously, "would you take my daughter's hand in marriage, sir? For had you not interceded, I do not think she would have lived to marry at all."

The Princess nearly glowed in eagerness, but the man said in feigned awe, "Sire, I could no more aspire to marry a Princess than to fly!"

"I insist," said the King, happy to discover his chosen son-in-law was a man of humility as well as heroics, "it shall be a royal decree!"

"Very well," said the man, bowing his head in acceptance, "if you insist, Sire, I will not defy such an order." He smiled at his lady, "for it seems it will assure the happiness of many indeed."

"Excellent," said the King, "I hereby declare you betrothed!"

"No!" cried a distraught voice from the very end of the great hall, but it was too late, the promise had been given and nothing but the man himself could break the arrangement. The crown prince dashed to his father's side, glaring darkly at the man, who had just been affianced to his sister, as he passed. The man studied the boy in return, a smile of cruel amusement and unassailable triumph on his face.

The King was quite vexed with his only son for such an outburst at so pivotal a moment, but the boy was not prone to such disruptions, which elicited an undercurrent of unease in the King's tone as he said, "what is it, my son?"

The boy bowed his head in contrition, but flashed a look of abhorrence at the veritable stranger, "things are not at all as they seem, Sire. This fellow may have rescued my sister from imminent peril but it was also he that hired the villains who threatened her in the first place."

"Truly?!" said the King in dismay, "How have you come by this information?"

The boy smiled grimly, "while he was looking for mercenaries for his little venture, a fellow caught wind of it and thought he could make a better profit selling out the villain. I met him at the castle gates just now, arguing with the guards for an audience with the King, but alas, I am come too late!"

The King stared at his future son-in-law, aghast, "what say you to that, sir?"

The man scoffed openly, "it is all too true, Sire, and the rat who sold me out will soon regret his interference, but at least I will not have to pretend to be something I am not, for you have promised me your daughter's hand and nothing can spare her now from that fate."

The Princess sat heavily upon the floor, sobbing, her face hidden in her hands as the man towered over her, gloating in triumph, all her girlish dreams and hopes suddenly shattered. Bayard's hand strayed to his sword hilt and he said stonily to the sneering villain, "perhaps the engagement cannot be broken, but I can still fight you to protect my sister from such a fate."

The vile fellow scoffed, "do not be a fool, boy, no mortal man can best me! The girl and your entire Kingdom will very soon fall into Shadow, though your pathetic attempt at a duel would resolve the minor problem of you preceding me in the succession."

The boy shivered, feeling the deadly truth in his mocking words, said he in a barely audible whisper, "I will not allow that to be, sir! If I cannot best you, I will find a champion who can!"

The man's scoffing laughter followed him as he fled the King's grand audience chamber, as did his sister's sobs, both strengthening his resolve to end the fiend's tyranny, no matter the cost. No mortal man could best the fiend? That left only an immortal creature, which meant the Fairywood. The boy shivered again, but knew for his sister's sake, as well as for the Kingdom's, he must venture thither. Bayard drew up short as he felt a familiar presence suddenly behind him. He shook his head adamantly at his longtime friend and retainer, said he, "I am sorry Kipril, you cannot accompany me; consider it an order!"

The young man smiled grimly, defiance sparkling in his eyes as he took off anything proclaiming his rank and station, casting them carelessly to the ground, said he, "I am no longer in your service then, Sire, but I am still your friend and will accompany you regardless."

Bayard smiled in spite of himself at this show of faithfulness and courage when he needed it most, "very well," said he, "I cannot order a friend about. You know this quest is likely suicide, but vital nonetheless?"

Kipril smiled rakishly, "as are all the best stories, should we not be going?" With a grim laugh, Bayard resumed his dash for the stables, Kipril close on his heels.

"The Fairywood!" said Kipril in astonishment as they rode into the most infamous greenwood in the realm, "Who ever thought we'd be desperate enough to come hither?"

"You did not have to come," said the Prince in dismay, glancing about them anxiously, "but we are certainly that desperate."

Kipril snorted a laugh, "or that foolish, and you know I could not let you have such an adventure without me. At least you are a Prince, that counts for something, at least so tell the old tales."

"Let us hope the denizens of this eldritch wood have read the same tales," said Bayard with a shudder, for it was well known that mortals who entered the Fairywood did not often return to tell of their adventures. But what other choice had he? He could not doom his sister to such a fate, nor the Kingdom either, for he knew with utter certainty that the fell man, or whatever he was, would keep his promise to plunge all the land under the Shadow. The Shadow, the very name was enough to still a beating heart in utter terror, how could a mere boy stop the advance of such a horrible inevitability? But stop it he must, or die trying. Glancing about at the uneasy feeling trees about him, he smiled grimly and thought the latter far more likely. He glanced sadly at his companion, who smiled keenly in return, his fear barely showing, and wondered if there was a way to keep Kipril from succumbing to the same fate.

This thought was suddenly forgotten as he spied a person just ahead of them on the winding path that seemed to be the only thoroughfare through the Wood. He dismounted, so as not to rudely speak from a height, as they approached the figure. The individual was of a humanish shape, but he was too tall for his breadth, at least by human standards, and his features too fine yet he moved with a grace and strength that defied the delicacy of his frame, neither was he at all pleased to discover two human children roaming about, feral in the Fairywood. Said he without introduction, "you two had best get yourselves gone! Have you any idea where you are or the danger in which it places you?"

Bayard sighed heavily, "we know it is dangerous for men hereabouts, sir, but our need is dire. There is a creature..."

He trailed off as the elf grimaced, "say no more, you will find no aid from anyone within the Wood. You have been warned! Be gone before worse comes of it!" He stalked off without another word; the boys exchanged a wondering look behind him.

A derisive snort drew their attention and both gaped to see a snow-white stag, with shining silver antlers, standing behind them, the creature said in disapprobation, "you two had best heed the words of yonder elf, there are creatures far less tolerant of mortals than he and I. You should consider yourselves lucky to have been warned at all!"

"But..." said Bayard helplessly, but the stag had already vanished with a flick of his tail back into shadows of the Wood. Sighed he, "will we find anyone who will even listen to us, let alone fight for us?"

"No," said a magpie, perched upon a nearby branch, said he as he continued to preen, "most of the creatures in this Wood just want to be left alone; they care nothing for the troubles of the mortal world. Most would as soon kill you as look at you, if they don't do worse. You had best heed their advice and go home."

"No," said Bayard sternly, "I must find an answer and this is the only place to find it. Is there no one to whom we can appeal?"

"You are determined," said the bird with a grin, looking up from his feathers, "you could seek the Mirror. Therein you will find your hero."

"The Mirror!" squawked Kipril in dismay, "That has an even worse reputation than the Fairywood."

The magpie chirruped a laugh, "I did not say it would be easy, child, only that it was your only choice if you are determined to go through with this. It is death for a mortal to look therein, but it is the only place to find your answers. Even should you convince one of the immortal denizens of this Wood to fight on your behalf, they would stand as little chance against your vile foe as you do."

Bayard's eyes narrowed, "how do you know so much, my fowl friend?"

The magpie cocked his head and winked, "and why should I not know more about your business than you do?" With that perplexing statement, he took wing and vanished into the woodland gloom. The boys exchanged a puzzled glance and without a word, urged their horses onward. The Mirror? So be it. At least it would not be hard to find, for it was said that those intent on finding it could not fail thereof, for you did not find it rather it found you.

Bayard glanced at Kipril with a wry smile, "it is not too late my friend."

Kipril snorted a laugh, "you think this is going to scare me off and send me home with my tail betwixt my legs? I think not Sire, you can't go being a hero without me."

"You're mad," said Bayard with a laugh, "but a dearer friend I've never had."

"Right on both counts," said Kipril with a grin, "now to find this Mirror."

They had not ridden further than a bowshot when a ruined tower loomed out of the forest shadows before them. There had once been a door to the structure, but it had long gone the way of the top half and the roof, leaving only a stony wall enclosing a circular patch of forest. They exchanged a look of grim certainty and dismounted, knowing the horses would not be of any use within. That and the ogre sitting just inside the gaping gate would send them into fits of panic. Bayard's hand darted towards his sword, but he knew it would be of no use against such a foe, whose hide was only slightly softer than the stones that made up the wall about them.

The creature looked up from the bone on which it had been gnawing, it might have been the femur of a horse but it was far too long, and studied the intruders with a wicked grin, "dinner?"

Bayard swallowed hard and said, "I hope not, we have come seeking the Mirror."

"You'd be better off letting me gnaw your bones lads," said the creature disdainfully, "at least then someone would benefit from your foolishness, but do as you feel you must." It rose to its feet and waddled aside, giving them just enough room to squeeze between its bulk and the tower wall. Bayard could see light dancing on the far wall, as if sunlight were being reflected off a pond stirred by a slight breeze.

Bayard gave his friend a hopeful look, saying, "let me look first, perhaps one of us will survive and be able to put our hard won knowledge to use."

Kipril nodded gravely, "if there is aught I can do, I will do it, but I do not promise to go home empty handed."

"I know," said Bayard, tears threatening to spill over, "just don't do anything foolish if there is any other choice." They embraced for a moment and then the prince dashed to the edge of the pool before his courage failed utterly. He gave Kipril one last smile of impish delight and then looked into the Mirror. There came a flash too bright to look upon and when Kipril looked once more, the prince was gone.

He looked desperately to the ogre, who had returned to his bone, and said with a shrug, "what did I tell you?"

Kipril glanced uneasily at the Mirror, and asked, "what is it? What came of him? How are we to find our answers if none survives a glance therein?"

The ogre yawned expansively and said, "it is a thing not of this world, even the immortal denizens of the Wood fear to look upon it. Your friend looked upon something too wondrous for his mortal frame to bear; it unmade him. All wisdom and knowledge is certainly contained therein, so you can undoubtedly find your answers, but no one said you would live to implement them, did they?"

"No," said Kipril in dismay, he glanced again at the dancing light upon the stony walls, a look of firm resolve settling in his eyes, "I only promised to go home if an answer presented itself."

The ogre shrugged and returned his attention to his bone, "suit yourself, you've been warned."

Kipril cautiously approached the side of the pool, his very soul seemed to pulse in time with a melody he could not hear, the rhythm of the pool; he knew it was dangerous, he knew it was suicide, but he did not care, he felt drawn to it as helplessly as if he were caught in a riptide. He looked over the edge, his mouth dropped open in wonder, and then everything was glorious, obliterating light. The ogre looked up from his bone and smiled knowingly at no one in particular before the entire ruin vanished in the same blinding fashion as both of the boys had.

"That was..." came the astonished voice, "that was...? I guess I really don't have words to describe it," finished Bayard rather lamely.

Kipril barked a laugh, "it would be foolish to try. The great poets have a hard enough time describing sunsets and rose buds, and you aren't even a bad poet, so how do you intend to successfully describe eternal splendors with mortal words?"

Bayard grinned like a little boy intent on mischief, "I'll leave that to others more qualified. I found my answer, but it had nothing to do with poetry."

"Thank the Master for that," said Kipril with a smile, "now what?"

Bayard smiled eagerly, "we go back and challenge that fiend to a proper duel."

"We?!" said Kipril in surprise, "I thought you were the hero."

Bayard's eyebrows rose, "weren't you the one following me around like a lost puppy, even into the very heart of death?"

"Not so much a lost puppy as a faithful hound," said Kipril with a chuckle, "I just thought you would want all the fame and glory for yourself."

Bayard snorted, "you are in the wrong profession if those are your goals." He sobered, "we have no glory but His."

Kipril could not help but smile at those indescribable things he had glimpsed beyond the walls of the world, said he with a contented sigh, "and that is far more than we'll ever need." He smiled at his friend, "this story won't be very interesting if we sit here talking like old wives round a winter fire."

Bayard said sheepishly, "have you any idea what we are to do?"

Kipril said with a rueful smile, "as the leader of this expedition, I had hoped that responsibility would have fallen to you. You're the one with answers, remember?"

Bayard shook his head, "I only know we need to go back and challenge the fiend's claim to my sister and the crown."

Kipril stood, "well, then I guess we had best get back to the castle." He glanced about in dismay, "wherever it is."

Bayard shakily gained his feet and glanced about curiously, sensing they were still in the Fairywood and that it must be the middle of the night, for the usual gloom had become impenetrable blackness like unto the void between the stars. "We could wander lost in the Wood forever," said he, but there was no fear in his voice, only a statement of pure fact, "too bad we lost the horses."

Kipril smiled like the rogue he was, "it would be so much more efficient to ride about, lost in the Wood forever, rather than walk."

"So these beasts would not be of use to you then?" came the birdlike, lilting query, minding Kipril of the elf's singsong voice, but younger and less doleful.

Bayard smiled warmly at the elf lad who held their horses by the reins, "ignore my companion here, he tends to say things he doesn't mean; we would be most grateful for the return of our mounts."

The elf frowned, "that seems a most inefficient way of communicating."

"Oh, it is!" said Bayard with a laugh at Kipril's growing consternation, "But sadly it is an affliction all too common amongst mortal men."

Nodded the boy, "hence the Proscriptions, yes, I understand."

"The proscriptions?" asked Kipril, figuring he might as well continue to appear the fool, at least if it gained them knowledge that might prove useful.

The boy addressed Kipril as a teacher might a rather dense pupil, "as your friend here is no doubt well aware, sir, the Proscriptions are the rules set down by my people that govern our interactions with other races. Mortal men are listed under the category of 'too dense to have proper dealings with, avoid if at all possible.'"

"Ah," said Kipril, "then what are you doing here chatting with us?"

The elf smiled ruefully, "I came across your beasts and wondered what had come of their masters." He shrugged awkwardly, "I've always been curious about the outside world."

Bayard smiled knowingly, "something your elders undoubtedly would look down upon."

"Yes," said the boy, hope gleaming in his eyes, "long have I yearned to look upon the sun and stars, unimpeded by these glowering old trees."

"I must say," said Kipril with a grin, "the ambiance of this place is certainly lacking in cheer. I thought your folk were supposed to be happy and singing all night and laughing all day."

The boy said quietly, "perhaps back in the morning of the world, but they have grown withered in soul, with nothing to look forward to and only moldering joys to look back upon."

"It all sounds rather grim," said Bayard, "hence your hope to escape it?"

The boy snorted, "that is the one thing you mortals have that my folk envy: hope, but you'll never hear my elders admit as much, even to themselves."

Bayard's brow furrowed, "you'd abandon your people and home to walk for a time under the mortal stars?"

The boy shrugged and then motioned to the gloom about them, "wouldn't you?"

Kipril exchanged a secret smile with Bayard, "we'd do just that, but for very different reasons. Can you show us how to get out of this grim Wood?"

The boy brightened significantly, "certainly!" He handed the reins to each of his companions and then whistled in a peculiar fashion, which brought a fabulous horse at the gallop, whickering excitedly at his young master. Kipril and Bayard exchanged a wondering grin and then climbed into their saddles. Said the elf, Ithril by name, as they rode along companionably, "how is it you managed to get this far into the Wood and yet cannot extricate yourselves therefrom? Few mortals can make it this deep into the Wood of their own accord; were you tricked by some nefarious villain and left to wander alone?"

Bayard glanced questioningly at Kipril, who shrugged and shook his head, as the former prince said, "we were warned by certain denizens of the Wood to turn back, but such was our quest that we must either succeed or die trying. We were told to seek the Mirror, for only therein could we find our answers. We awoke exactly where you found us."

"The Mirror!" said the elfin boy in wonder, "Even among my people it is a thing of legend." He frowned at them, "and death to mortal men."

Kipril's roguish smile returned, "it certainly was an experience, one quite beyond words, but here we are again and hopeful that our quest will at last be a success."

Ithril shook his head in wonder, "and here I thought I was the interesting one in the party."

Bayard laughed, "elves are not so very interesting, at least not in a Fairywood, now mortal men, they are very nearly mythical."

"And when we find some," said Kipril, frowning slightly in confusion, "I'll be sure to stare."

Bayard opened his mouth to reply, but his words died aborning as he caught his friend's bafflement, suddenly certain that they were true. Ithril wore his own puzzled look as he studied his companions, at last shaking his head and sighing, "what in the Wood or beyond it are you going on about? If you are not mortal men, then what are you?"

"That is an excellent question," said Kipril with a wry grin, he caught his friend's eye and smiled significantly, "after all, we're off to challenge a foe which no mortal man can best." He grimaced, "or immortal creature either for that matter."

"The Mirror," said the elf thoughtfully, "is said to unmake those who look upon it, which would mean whatever you were, you are no longer."

"What were we?" asked Bayard in growing eagerness.

"Creatures trapped within the realm of time and death," said Kipril quietly, "thus vulnerable to the fiend, whatever it is. Even an immortal creature might die, just not of old age, thus they too might be killed by certain foes."

"Lovely," said Bayard with a wry smile, "I now know what we aren't but that does not tell me what we are."

Kipril laughed merrily at his friend's consternation, "we are still men, whatever has come of us. We might not be mortal men but we are certainly men; nothing will change that, in time or beyond it."

Bayard nodded, "immortal men?"

"No," said Kipril with a roll of his eyes, "I believe we are beyond such paltry concerns as death, age, and time."

"Just men, then," said Bayard quizzically, "how utterly unexciting!"

The elf laughed, "not in a Fairywood, or so an esteemed sage told me just now."

"Ah," said Bayard with a laugh, "that is a relief."

"Who cares what you are," said Ithril, "what is this grand quest of yours?" Kipril smiled broadly and told all the tale, he listened attentively though mention of the fiend brought an involuntary flinch and shudder.

Bayard asked of the boy, "why do all the folk hereabouts seem so afraid of this fiend, whatever or whoever he is? Do you know aught of him?"

The elf shuddered again, "I've only heard tales, awful tales, only rumors mind you, but anyone who openly says they work for the Shadow is either an utter fool or a villain beyond mortal comprehension."

The boy stared at his companions in wonder, for they had grown utterly silent, their hands on their sword hilts and fire in their eyes, as if they sat their horses atop a hill, ready to charge into the valley below wherein some perennial foe awaited them. The spell passed as suddenly as it had come, the boys blinked in puzzlement for a moment, but continued to ride on as if nothing untoward had happened. The elf said nothing but shook his head in consternation, wondering the more at his odd companions and the adventure that now bound him to them.

At last the gloomy wood opened before them upon wide meadowlands, golden in the dawn. Bayard blinked back tears of joy, never having felt so protective or possessive of his former homeland and all the folk therein, for he knew, somehow, that it was no longer his true home, even so he was fully intent on destroying the fiend that now threatened all its hope and joy and peace. Kipril sniffed suspiciously beside the former prince and wiped some inexplicable moisture away from his eyes, but the rascal was not known for ever exhibiting any feelings remotely resembling wistfulness; it was impossible. The boy grinned exuberantly at Bayard and said without a hint of a tremor in his voice, "let's make an end of the villain as soon as may be, Sire."

Bayard urged his horse down the slope and said with a grim smile, "gladly my friend."

The elf cantered alongside the prince, "you really intend to go through with this! If this fiend is half what I expect, it cannot end well, for you or anyone else!"

"Yes," said Bayard gravely, "it will not end well for any of us, most especially the fiend, but as that is our goal, we will do as we must and see it through."

The elfin boy sighed heavily and allowed his horse to fall back alongside Kipril's, but the boy's determined look killed Ithril's words ere they were spoken, for he seemed of the same mind as his friend. He sighed heavily and wondered if he should just turn back to the Wood, but he knew it was impossible and whatever adventures awaited him in the outer world, it could not be worse than what he had left behind. He longed for that sense of duty and purpose that seemed to drive his companions onward, even to their own destruction. The elves knew nothing of such a concept, their whole focus was on pleasing themselves and they existed for no other reason.

Bayard reined in his horse to a slightly saner pace, allowing Kipril the chance to rummage in his saddlebags without fear of falling off. He pulled forth a shapeless bag, that he far too graciously called a hat, and tossed to Ithril with a smile, "there's enough excitement in the realm of late without an elf wandering about. You're back to being interesting, my friend."

Ithril looked at the sack with distaste, but heaved a sigh and heroically placed it on his head, hiding his telltale ears. "Well?" said he with a wry grin.

Bayard valiantly hid a smile, "you won't be setting any fashion trends me thinks, but neither will you be eliciting panic in the streets."

"I can live with that," said the elf with a laugh, "though things would be far different in my own homeland."

"What is your country like?" asked Kipril hopefully.

Ithril shook his head, "one disaster at a time my friend. Let us free your own folk from tyranny before discussing that which oppresses my own."

"You fled to escape some dire oppression?" asked Bayard curiously, "Is there aught that can be done to lift the burdens upon your own folk?"

Ithril could not help but smile, "you think that because you attempt the impossible in your own land you can do the same in mine? Let us survive this adventure before we attempt another. If you can thus rescue your own folk, perhaps there is hope for mine. I fled to spare myself, but have been thoroughly chastened by the price you are willing to pay to spare others, can I now do any less?"

"Good," said Kipril, rudely interrupting the awkward silence that wanted to interpose itself between them, "I was afraid we'd get bored after all is said and done. What with the Mirror and the Fairywood and elves and ogres and talking stags and vanquishing undead fiends, I just can't abide the thought of sitting down to afternoon tea as if nothing untoward has happened. Visiting an accursed city of the Elves will be just the thing! But then what will we do on the morrow?"

Ithril barked a laugh, "that is a conundrum indeed, but fear not, for I think it will take a day, or even two, to work your miracles on my grim folk so ennui will not again ensue for at least three days hence."

Bayard quipped back over his shoulder, "I should have left the both of you back in that Wood!" The offended pair exchanged a wry grin and a merry laugh.

Kipril retorted, once his mirth was controlled, "it is not our fault you have no sense of humor."

"True," said Bayard with a smile, "which makes me wonder all the more what you can possibly find so attractive about me that you insist on tagging along everywhere I go?"

"Pity," said Ithril, not missing a beat, "we can't abide the thought of letting you wander about alone, not to mention the trouble you'd get into without proper supervision!" Kipril's smile threatened to rend his face asunder while Bayard could only shake his head, hide his smile, and heave a long-suffering sigh.

They came at last to the royal city, but it was not the bustling and prosperous town Bayard had always known it to be, rather no one was abroad in the streets and a general atmosphere of grim despair hung over the city like a fog. Ithril said in surprise, "I had thought the ambiance of this place would be far removed from that afflicting my own kin, but this might well be a very city of the elves!"

Kipril said quietly, "I have lived here my entire life and never have I seen it thus."

Bayard said stonily, "the fiend is already having an influence, come, let us to my sister ere it is too late for her and the kingdom!"

They grimly set their faces towards the castle as their galloping hooves echoed in the distant alleys, causing many a weary and frightened citizen to look out at the window, wondering if it were hope or doom that clattered in the streets. The guards at the castle gates let them pass unhindered, for their hearts were no longer in their duties, for they had despaired of their very lives, but their positions were no longer necessary, for who would dare assault such a fiend of their own accord? They drew rein in the courtyard and left their horses to themselves, for no servants came running to see to the weary beasts or their riders' needs. The castle was nearly abandoned, for all who could had fled or were in hiding while the rest cowered at their posts, barely daring to breathe, lest the fiend look upon them. They entered the gardens, hoping to find the King, the Princess, and the Fiend therein, for the latter could not have gone far, else the air of menace would not hang so heavily over the castle and its occupants.

Bayard's heart nearly broke when he finally set eyes upon their quarry, for the Princess walked hand in hand with her vile betrothed, her shoulders slumped and her feet dragging, her eyes red with weeping and focused despairingly on the ground; the King walked a few paces behind them, like one in a daze. The Fiend savored their dismay like a fine wine, happily dragging out the engagement period that he might wring as much misery from the girl and her father as he could before ultimately destroying the Kingdom.

Bayard's sword rasped against the sheath as he drew it forth, crying aloud, "come Fiend! I challenge your claims upon this Kingdom and my sister!"

The villain dropped the maid's hand and smiled wickedly, "ah! You have returned, little hero! Here we had despaired of your courage, but alas, you have found no champion who can prevail against me. I will gladly accept your challenge; your death will make my betrothed's misery all the more acute. She could at least hold out hope as long as you had not returned, but when you lie dead at my feet, so shall her last grasp at freedom." His smile deepened in cruelty and mirth, "I will even let your second try his hand at me when you fall." He drew his sword as the King and Princess fled to the edge of the greensward, eyes wide in horror, fear, and dismay.

Bayard met him in the middle of the wide, grassy lawn while Kipril stood off to the side with sword drawn, impatiently waiting his turn. Ithril hid himself amongst the shrubbery, knowing his hat would not hide his identity from such a fiend, but he watched intently from his hiding place all that was to come. This close to the monstrosity, Bayard could feel terror and dread radiating off him like heat off a stove, but it could not quell the fire suddenly raging in his soul. He leapt at the monster, whose man-like features suddenly took on a serpentine cast, revealing his true nature. The fiend hissed in delight, "have at me little hero! You sister's tears shall fall unceasing!"

They exchanged sword strokes for a few moments, with neither taking nor giving any injury, until the monster broke through Bayard's defenses and ran the boy through the belly. He fell with an anguished cry, bringing Kipril at the run, forcing the fiend to defend himself rather than finishing off his opponent. The villain gloated, "it is futile, little mouse! Your friend is dying and soon you will both be dead, for no mortal man can best me." Kipril buried his blade in the fiend's heart as he gloried in his triumph a bit prematurely, but that did not keep the fiend from returning the favor with a strangled, "no, it is impossible." They fell together, unmoving upon the turf; the fiend soon melted into an oily black slick while the three onlookers rushed forward in disbelief towards the stricken survivor.

Bayard panted heavily as his father and sister knelt beside him, "thus is your Kingdom and daughter spared, Sire."

The King drew him close and wept, "oh, my son!"

The girl wept openly, but no longer in despair. Ithril stood awkwardly off to the side, not sure of his place at that particular moment, but Bayard had not forgotten him, said he quietly, "don't forget our next quest, though it may have to wait a day or two until matters have been fully settled here..." He trailed off with a groan before slumping dead in his father's arms.

The King and his daughter sobbed bitterly for some minutes, leaving Ithril alone to ponder the dying boy's words. A slight, eager smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as he recalled their discussion of immortality and death and life anew. At last, the King gained control of himself and looked at the strangely thin and tall boy standing nearby, "who are you? What did my son's dying words mean?"

The elf smiled awkwardly, "I met your son and his friend in the Fairywood, Sire. They promised to help free my own kin from just such oppression once your Kingdom was free, and I believe the Prince intends to keep his word."

"He's dead," said the King with a grimace.

"Strange things happen in the Wood, Sire," said Ithril quietly, "their tale is perhaps the strangest of all. How do you think they bested a creature no living man can kill?"

The King sat back on his haunches, "you're saying this is not the end of the tale?"

Ithril smiled in spite of himself, "the tale never, truly ends Sire, most especially for those who have entrusted themselves to the Master's keeping."

"Fairytales from the Fairywood," said the King in disgust.

Ithril removed his hat and the King gasped in astonishment, said he dryly, "and what better source, but I tell you Sire, some of the tales are true. Your son and his friend have fallen into one such. Mourn if you must, observe the proper funeral rites certainly, but not as one without hope." He squashed his cap back on his head and vanished deeper into the gardens. The King stared blankly after, scratched his head in perplexity, glanced at the dead Kipril, placed a comforting hand on his sobbing daughter's shoulder, and then studied his dead son. Fairytales indeed! He was a realist, his son had died heroically defending his sister and the Kingdom and to that he would cling, not to this nonsense that the boy could somehow defy death and live again, in the mortal world or beyond it, but in so doing, he would lose his son indeed, for unless he changed his mind ere the end, they would be forever separated by a gulf that could not be crossed; for the light can have nothing in common with the darkness and the boy was irrevocably bound to the former while his father preferred to linger in the lesser shadows of the latter.

The proper rites and ceremonies were observed befitting the valiant death of a crown prince, and while sad, the funeral seemed a relative celebration compared to the dread and fear that had hung over the realm of late. Kipril was interred beside his friend in the Royal Tomb, inseparable in death as they had been in life, though he was but the orphan son of a minor lord. The door was shut, the mourners went home, a disconsolate rain began to fall, and that should have been the end of the tale, but a certain rascally elf thought otherwise and lingered long after everyone else had gone their way.

Ithril's sensitive ears picked up a slight, muffled sound that might have been an earnest conversation going on betwixt two persons within the tomb, but that was ridiculous, at least to the King it would have been, but to the elf, it was joy itself. Ithril curiously approached the massive tomb, wondering how to open the great carved slab of marble that was the door of the royal crypt, but he had no need, for his two tardy companions stepped out into the gloomy afternoon as easily as if the door had stood wide open, rather than standing firm as the foundations of the earth. "I told you we could do it," said Kipril with his usual grin.

Bayard raised an eyebrow in amusement, "I suppose everyone is right, on occasion."

Kipril laughed, "you just need to quit thinking like a mortal Prince."

"True," said Bayard as his gaze fell on Ithril, "and here is just the elf to give me lessons on not thinking like a mortal."

Ithril held up his hands defensively and shook his head, "don't look at me! I could teach you to be an elf but I have no clue as to your current proclivities."

"No," said Kipril with his usual grin, "you could teach him about elves, but all of eternity would not be enough for him to learn to behave as befits a proper elf."

Bayard sighed, "don't we have things to be about, my friends? I never claimed to be an elf or to want to be one so the point is rather moot."

"That's just as well," smiled Ithril, "because where we're going, mortal men are far more interesting."

Kipril arched an eyebrow, "does that mean we are always interesting, being neither elves nor mortal men?"

Bayard barked a laugh, "one thing you are Kipril, is certainly interesting."

"I'm not sure I like your definition of the word in regards to myself," said his friend with a laugh, "but I think you have the right of it. Where did we leave our horses?"

Ithril beamed, "while you two have been wasting time, I've been busy. I have horses and supplies awaiting us just inside the woods."

"Excellent," said Bayard, glancing at Kipril, "why can't you be as thoughtful as him?"

"Just lazy, I guess," said Kipril with a grin, hastening after his friends as they hied themselves into the forest that verged upon the royal burial grounds. He nearly ran into Bayard, who had stopped and turned for a last look upon his former home.

Said he wistfully, "now where do I belong, this is no longer our home?"

Kipril smiled eagerly, "wherever our Master's will sends us, my friend, and that is a home from which we shall never more be parted." Bayard gave him a grateful smile and they continued on their way, to shine the light into the very heart of darkness.

Unlikely Hero

Love, it was such a delightful weakness, these pathetic humans couldn't help themselves; it was written into their very souls. All their so-called great tales were full of it; it was all their unwed maidens talked of, and it would be the downfall of the Kingdom, as it had once brought about the greatest triumph the Shadow had ever known: the very death of their greatest enemy, he who claimed to be Love itself. So much for happy endings!

The girl approached, right on schedule, skipping merrily down the forest path, stopping occasionally to study some bud or butterfly that caught her fancy, a bundle of wildflowers in her hands. The flowers fell to the ground, her terrified shrieks rent the morning air as six raggedly clad scoundrels stepped out of the surrounding trees, completely encircling her. He allowed her terror to steep for a few moments, until it was of the proper potency, as the fiends leered, snickered maliciously, and stroked their weapons in anticipation, then he stepped out of the comfortable woodland shadows into the glaring light of the sun, ready to save the maiden, and the day.

The mercenaries were rather surprised to see their employer suddenly in their midst, and even more perplexed as he started lashing out at them left and right with his sword, had he not paid them to waylay the girl? Whatever he had paid them, it was not enough, their ire soon overcame their surprise and they set upon the man, the girl momentarily forgotten, but they stood no chance against this particular foe and fell as helplessly before his blade as the girl would have perished upon their own. As the last villain expired upon the sward, the girl fell to her knees in relief and wonder and then sank upon the turf, her head in her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. The seeming hero smiled in anticipation, waiting for the girl to gain control of herself, but knowing his plan was soon to bear fruit.

She soon mastered herself and stood, graciously thanking him again and again, begging him to return with her to the palace that the King her father might properly repay his heroics. He demurred, saying it would not be proper, but she insisted all the more, until at last he relented. Offering her his arm, she gladly took it and they sauntered back the way she had come, her girlish heart aflutter with dreams of the hero beside her and what might come of this fortuitous meeting.

The King was astonished at the news of banditti in the woods abutting the castle, but neither was he insensible to what he owed this man, perhaps his daughter's very life, and it was not as if he were a peasant or a man of little fortune, it even appeared the girl already had her heart set upon that very thing; the man's reward would be great indeed and none could oppose such a match, for was this not providence itself? The King asked graciously, "would you take my daughter's hand in marriage, sir? For had you not interceded, I do not think she would have lived to marry at all."

The Princess nearly glowed in eagerness, but the man said in feigned awe, "Sire, I could no more aspire to marry a Princess than to fly!"

"I insist," said the King, happy to discover his chosen son-in-law was a man of humility as well as heroics, "it shall be a royal decree!"

"Very well," said the man, bowing his head in acceptance, "if you insist, Sire, I will not defy such an order." He smiled at his lady, "for it seems it will assure the happiness of many indeed."

"Excellent," said the King, "I hereby declare you betrothed!"

"No!" cried a distraught voice from the very end of the great hall, but it was too late, the promise had been given and nothing but the man himself could break the arrangement. The crown prince dashed to his father's side, glaring darkly at the man, who had just been affianced to his sister, as he passed. The man studied the boy in return, a smile of cruel amusement and unassailable triumph on his face.

The King was quite vexed with his only son for such an outburst at so pivotal a moment, but the boy was not prone to such disruptions, which elicited an undercurrent of unease in the King's tone as he said, "what is it, my son?"

The boy bowed his head in contrition, but flashed a look of abhorrence at the veritable stranger, "things are not at all as they seem, Sire. This fellow may have rescued my sister from imminent peril but it was also he that hired the villains who threatened her in the first place."

"Truly?!" said the King in dismay, "How have you come by this information?"

The boy smiled grimly, "while he was looking for mercenaries for his little venture, a fellow caught wind of it and thought he could make a better profit selling out the villain. I met him at the castle gates just now, arguing with the guards for an audience with the King, but alas, I am come too late!"

The King stared at his future son-in-law, aghast, "what say you to that, sir?"

The man scoffed openly, "it is all too true, Sire, and the rat who sold me out will soon regret his interference, but at least I will not have to pretend to be something I am not, for you have promised me your daughter's hand and nothing can spare her now from that fate."

The Princess sat heavily upon the floor, sobbing, her face hidden in her hands as the man towered over her, gloating in triumph, all her girlish dreams and hopes suddenly shattered. Bayard's hand strayed to his sword hilt and he said stonily to the sneering villain, "perhaps the engagement cannot be broken, but I can still fight you to protect my sister from such a fate."

The vile fellow scoffed, "do not be a fool, boy, no mortal man can best me! The girl and your entire Kingdom will very soon fall into Shadow, though your pathetic attempt at a duel would resolve the minor problem of you preceding me in the succession."

The boy shivered, feeling the deadly truth in his mocking words, said he in a barely audible whisper, "I will not allow that to be, sir! If I cannot best you, I will find a champion who can!"

The man's scoffing laughter followed him as he fled the King's grand audience chamber, as did his sister's sobs, both strengthening his resolve to end the fiend's tyranny, no matter the cost. No mortal man could best the fiend? That left only an immortal creature, which meant the Fairywood. The boy shivered again, but knew for his sister's sake, as well as for the Kingdom's, he must venture thither. Bayard drew up short as he felt a familiar presence suddenly behind him. He shook his head adamantly at his longtime friend and retainer, said he, "I am sorry Kipril, you cannot accompany me; consider it an order!"

The young man smiled grimly, defiance sparkling in his eyes as he took off anything proclaiming his rank and station, casting them carelessly to the ground, said he, "I am no longer in your service then, Sire, but I am still your friend and will accompany you regardless."

Bayard smiled in spite of himself at this show of faithfulness and courage when he needed it most, "very well," said he, "I cannot order a friend about. You know this quest is likely suicide, but vital nonetheless?"

Kipril smiled rakishly, "as are all the best stories, should we not be going?" With a grim laugh, Bayard resumed his dash for the stables, Kipril close on his heels.

"The Fairywood!" said Kipril in astonishment as they rode into the most infamous greenwood in the realm, "Who ever thought we'd be desperate enough to come hither?"

"You did not have to come," said the Prince in dismay, glancing about them anxiously, "but we are certainly that desperate."

Kipril snorted a laugh, "or that foolish, and you know I could not let you have such an adventure without me. At least you are a Prince, that counts for something, at least so tell the old tales."

"Let us hope the denizens of this eldritch wood have read the same tales," said Bayard with a shudder, for it was well known that mortals who entered the Fairywood did not often return to tell of their adventures. But what other choice had he? He could not doom his sister to such a fate, nor the Kingdom either, for he knew with utter certainty that the fell man, or whatever he was, would keep his promise to plunge all the land under the Shadow. The Shadow, the very name was enough to still a beating heart in utter terror, how could a mere boy stop the advance of such a horrible inevitability? But stop it he must, or die trying. Glancing about at the uneasy feeling trees about him, he smiled grimly and thought the latter far more likely. He glanced sadly at his companion, who smiled keenly in return, his fear barely showing, and wondered if there was a way to keep Kipril from succumbing to the same fate.

This thought was suddenly forgotten as he spied a person just ahead of them on the winding path that seemed to be the only thoroughfare through the Wood. He dismounted, so as not to rudely speak from a height, as they approached the figure. The individual was of a humanish shape, but he was too tall for his breadth, at least by human standards, and his features too fine yet he moved with a grace and strength that defied the delicacy of his frame, neither was he at all pleased to discover two human children roaming about, feral in the Fairywood. Said he without introduction, "you two had best get yourselves gone! Have you any idea where you are or the danger in which it places you?"

Bayard sighed heavily, "we know it is dangerous for men hereabouts, sir, but our need is dire. There is a creature..."

He trailed off as the elf grimaced, "say no more, you will find no aid from anyone within the Wood. You have been warned! Be gone before worse comes of it!" He stalked off without another word; the boys exchanged a wondering look behind him.

A derisive snort drew their attention and both gaped to see a snow-white stag, with shining silver antlers, standing behind them, the creature said in disapprobation, "you two had best heed the words of yonder elf, there are creatures far less tolerant of mortals than he and I. You should consider yourselves lucky to have been warned at all!"

"But..." said Bayard helplessly, but the stag had already vanished with a flick of his tail back into shadows of the Wood. Sighed he, "will we find anyone who will even listen to us, let alone fight for us?"

"No," said a magpie, perched upon a nearby branch, said he as he continued to preen, "most of the creatures in this Wood just want to be left alone; they care nothing for the troubles of the mortal world. Most would as soon kill you as look at you, if they don't do worse. You had best heed their advice and go home."

"No," said Bayard sternly, "I must find an answer and this is the only place to find it. Is there no one to whom we can appeal?"

"You are determined," said the bird with a grin, looking up from his feathers, "you could seek the Mirror. Therein you will find your hero."

"The Mirror!" squawked Kipril in dismay, "That has an even worse reputation than the Fairywood."

The magpie chirruped a laugh, "I did not say it would be easy, child, only that it was your only choice if you are determined to go through with this. It is death for a mortal to look therein, but it is the only place to find your answers. Even should you convince one of the immortal denizens of this Wood to fight on your behalf, they would stand as little chance against your vile foe as you do."

Bayard's eyes narrowed, "how do you know so much, my fowl friend?"

The magpie cocked his head and winked, "and why should I not know more about your business than you do?" With that perplexing statement, he took wing and vanished into the woodland gloom. The boys exchanged a puzzled glance and without a word, urged their horses onward. The Mirror? So be it. At least it would not be hard to find, for it was said that those intent on finding it could not fail thereof, for you did not find it rather it found you.

Bayard glanced at Kipril with a wry smile, "it is not too late my friend."

Kipril snorted a laugh, "you think this is going to scare me off and send me home with my tail betwixt my legs? I think not Sire, you can't go being a hero without me."

"You're mad," said Bayard with a laugh, "but a dearer friend I've never had."

"Right on both counts," said Kipril with a grin, "now to find this Mirror."

They had not ridden further than a bowshot when a ruined tower loomed out of the forest shadows before them. There had once been a door to the structure, but it had long gone the way of the top half and the roof, leaving only a stony wall enclosing a circular patch of forest. They exchanged a look of grim certainty and dismounted, knowing the horses would not be of any use within. That and the ogre sitting just inside the gaping gate would send them into fits of panic. Bayard's hand darted towards his sword, but he knew it would be of no use against such a foe, whose hide was only slightly softer than the stones that made up the wall about them.

The creature looked up from the bone on which it had been gnawing, it might have been the femur of a horse but it was far too long, and studied the intruders with a wicked grin, "dinner?"

Bayard swallowed hard and said, "I hope not, we have come seeking the Mirror."

"You'd be better off letting me gnaw your bones lads," said the creature disdainfully, "at least then someone would benefit from your foolishness, but do as you feel you must." It rose to its feet and waddled aside, giving them just enough room to squeeze between its bulk and the tower wall. Bayard could see light dancing on the far wall, as if sunlight were being reflected off a pond stirred by a slight breeze.

Bayard gave his friend a hopeful look, saying, "let me look first, perhaps one of us will survive and be able to put our hard won knowledge to use."

Kipril nodded gravely, "if there is aught I can do, I will do it, but I do not promise to go home empty handed."

"I know," said Bayard, tears threatening to spill over, "just don't do anything foolish if there is any other choice." They embraced for a moment and then the prince dashed to the edge of the pool before his courage failed utterly. He gave Kipril one last smile of impish delight and then looked into the Mirror. There came a flash too bright to look upon and when Kipril looked once more, the prince was gone.

He looked desperately to the ogre, who had returned to his bone, and said with a shrug, "what did I tell you?"

Kipril glanced uneasily at the Mirror, and asked, "what is it? What came of him? How are we to find our answers if none survives a glance therein?"

The ogre yawned expansively and said, "it is a thing not of this world, even the immortal denizens of the Wood fear to look upon it. Your friend looked upon something too wondrous for his mortal frame to bear; it unmade him. All wisdom and knowledge is certainly contained therein, so you can undoubtedly find your answers, but no one said you would live to implement them, did they?"

"No," said Kipril in dismay, he glanced again at the dancing light upon the stony walls, a look of firm resolve settling in his eyes, "I only promised to go home if an answer presented itself."

The ogre shrugged and returned his attention to his bone, "suit yourself, you've been warned."

Kipril cautiously approached the side of the pool, his very soul seemed to pulse in time with a melody he could not hear, the rhythm of the pool; he knew it was dangerous, he knew it was suicide, but he did not care, he felt drawn to it as helplessly as if he were caught in a riptide. He looked over the edge, his mouth dropped open in wonder, and then everything was glorious, obliterating light. The ogre looked up from his bone and smiled knowingly at no one in particular before the entire ruin vanished in the same blinding fashion as both of the boys had.

"That was..." came the astonished voice, "that was...? I guess I really don't have words to describe it," finished Bayard rather lamely.

Kipril barked a laugh, "it would be foolish to try. The great poets have a hard enough time describing sunsets and rose buds, and you aren't even a bad poet, so how do you intend to successfully describe eternal splendors with mortal words?"

Bayard grinned like a little boy intent on mischief, "I'll leave that to others more qualified. I found my answer, but it had nothing to do with poetry."

"Thank the Master for that," said Kipril with a smile, "now what?"

Bayard smiled eagerly, "we go back and challenge that fiend to a proper duel."

"We?!" said Kipril in surprise, "I thought you were the hero."

Bayard's eyebrows rose, "weren't you the one following me around like a lost puppy, even into the very heart of death?"

"Not so much a lost puppy as a faithful hound," said Kipril with a chuckle, "I just thought you would want all the fame and glory for yourself."

Bayard snorted, "you are in the wrong profession if those are your goals." He sobered, "we have no glory but His."

Kipril could not help but smile at those indescribable things he had glimpsed beyond the walls of the world, said he with a contented sigh, "and that is far more than we'll ever need." He smiled at his friend, "this story won't be very interesting if we sit here talking like old wives round a winter fire."

Bayard said sheepishly, "have you any idea what we are to do?"

Kipril said with a rueful smile, "as the leader of this expedition, I had hoped that responsibility would have fallen to you. You're the one with answers, remember?"

Bayard shook his head, "I only know we need to go back and challenge the fiend's claim to my sister and the crown."

Kipril stood, "well, then I guess we had best get back to the castle." He glanced about in dismay, "wherever it is."

Bayard shakily gained his feet and glanced about curiously, sensing they were still in the Fairywood and that it must be the middle of the night, for the usual gloom had become impenetrable blackness like unto the void between the stars. "We could wander lost in the Wood forever," said he, but there was no fear in his voice, only a statement of pure fact, "too bad we lost the horses."

Kipril smiled like the rogue he was, "it would be so much more efficient to ride about, lost in the Wood forever, rather than walk."

"So these beasts would not be of use to you then?" came the birdlike, lilting query, minding Kipril of the elf's singsong voice, but younger and less doleful.

Bayard smiled warmly at the elf lad who held their horses by the reins, "ignore my companion here, he tends to say things he doesn't mean; we would be most grateful for the return of our mounts."

The elf frowned, "that seems a most inefficient way of communicating."

"Oh, it is!" said Bayard with a laugh at Kipril's growing consternation, "But sadly it is an affliction all too common amongst mortal men."

Nodded the boy, "hence the Proscriptions, yes, I understand."

"The proscriptions?" asked Kipril, figuring he might as well continue to appear the fool, at least if it gained them knowledge that might prove useful.

The boy addressed Kipril as a teacher might a rather dense pupil, "as your friend here is no doubt well aware, sir, the Proscriptions are the rules set down by my people that govern our interactions with other races. Mortal men are listed under the category of 'too dense to have proper dealings with, avoid if at all possible.'"

"Ah," said Kipril, "then what are you doing here chatting with us?"

The elf smiled ruefully, "I came across your beasts and wondered what had come of their masters." He shrugged awkwardly, "I've always been curious about the outside world."

Bayard smiled knowingly, "something your elders undoubtedly would look down upon."

"Yes," said the boy, hope gleaming in his eyes, "long have I yearned to look upon the sun and stars, unimpeded by these glowering old trees."

"I must say," said Kipril with a grin, "the ambiance of this place is certainly lacking in cheer. I thought your folk were supposed to be happy and singing all night and laughing all day."

The boy said quietly, "perhaps back in the morning of the world, but they have grown withered in soul, with nothing to look forward to and only moldering joys to look back upon."

"It all sounds rather grim," said Bayard, "hence your hope to escape it?"

The boy snorted, "that is the one thing you mortals have that my folk envy: hope, but you'll never hear my elders admit as much, even to themselves."

Bayard's brow furrowed, "you'd abandon your people and home to walk for a time under the mortal stars?"

The boy shrugged and then motioned to the gloom about them, "wouldn't you?"

Kipril exchanged a secret smile with Bayard, "we'd do just that, but for very different reasons. Can you show us how to get out of this grim Wood?"

The boy brightened significantly, "certainly!" He handed the reins to each of his companions and then whistled in a peculiar fashion, which brought a fabulous horse at the gallop, whickering excitedly at his young master. Kipril and Bayard exchanged a wondering grin and then climbed into their saddles. Said the elf, Ithril by name, as they rode along companionably, "how is it you managed to get this far into the Wood and yet cannot extricate yourselves therefrom? Few mortals can make it this deep into the Wood of their own accord; were you tricked by some nefarious villain and left to wander alone?"

Bayard glanced questioningly at Kipril, who shrugged and shook his head, as the former prince said, "we were warned by certain denizens of the Wood to turn back, but such was our quest that we must either succeed or die trying. We were told to seek the Mirror, for only therein could we find our answers. We awoke exactly where you found us."

"The Mirror!" said the elfin boy in wonder, "Even among my people it is a thing of legend." He frowned at them, "and death to mortal men."

Kipril's roguish smile returned, "it certainly was an experience, one quite beyond words, but here we are again and hopeful that our quest will at last be a success."

Ithril shook his head in wonder, "and here I thought I was the interesting one in the party."

Bayard laughed, "elves are not so very interesting, at least not in a Fairywood, now mortal men, they are very nearly mythical."

"And when we find some," said Kipril, frowning slightly in confusion, "I'll be sure to stare."

Bayard opened his mouth to reply, but his words died aborning as he caught his friend's bafflement, suddenly certain that they were true. Ithril wore his own puzzled look as he studied his companions, at last shaking his head and sighing, "what in the Wood or beyond it are you going on about? If you are not mortal men, then what are you?"

"That is an excellent question," said Kipril with a wry grin, he caught his friend's eye and smiled significantly, "after all, we're off to challenge a foe which no mortal man can best." He grimaced, "or immortal creature either for that matter."

"The Mirror," said the elf thoughtfully, "is said to unmake those who look upon it, which would mean whatever you were, you are no longer."

"What were we?" asked Bayard in growing eagerness.

"Creatures trapped within the realm of time and death," said Kipril quietly, "thus vulnerable to the fiend, whatever it is. Even an immortal creature might die, just not of old age, thus they too might be killed by certain foes."

"Lovely," said Bayard with a wry smile, "I now know what we aren't but that does not tell me what we are."

Kipril laughed merrily at his friend's consternation, "we are still men, whatever has come of us. We might not be mortal men but we are certainly men; nothing will change that, in time or beyond it."

Bayard nodded, "immortal men?"

"No," said Kipril with a roll of his eyes, "I believe we are beyond such paltry concerns as death, age, and time."

"Just men, then," said Bayard quizzically, "how utterly unexciting!"

The elf laughed, "not in a Fairywood, or so an esteemed sage told me just now."

"Ah," said Bayard with a laugh, "that is a relief."

"Who cares what you are," said Ithril, "what is this grand quest of yours?" Kipril smiled broadly and told all the tale, he listened attentively though mention of the fiend brought an involuntary flinch and shudder.

Bayard asked of the boy, "why do all the folk hereabouts seem so afraid of this fiend, whatever or whoever he is? Do you know aught of him?"

The elf shuddered again, "I've only heard tales, awful tales, only rumors mind you, but anyone who openly says they work for the Shadow is either an utter fool or a villain beyond mortal comprehension."

The boy stared at his companions in wonder, for they had grown utterly silent, their hands on their sword hilts and fire in their eyes, as if they sat their horses atop a hill, ready to charge into the valley below wherein some perennial foe awaited them. The spell passed as suddenly as it had come, the boys blinked in puzzlement for a moment, but continued to ride on as if nothing untoward had happened. The elf said nothing but shook his head in consternation, wondering the more at his odd companions and the adventure that now bound him to them.

At last the gloomy wood opened before them upon wide meadowlands, golden in the dawn. Bayard blinked back tears of joy, never having felt so protective or possessive of his former homeland and all the folk therein, for he knew, somehow, that it was no longer his true home, even so he was fully intent on destroying the fiend that now threatened all its hope and joy and peace. Kipril sniffed suspiciously beside the former prince and wiped some inexplicable moisture away from his eyes, but the rascal was not known for ever exhibiting any feelings remotely resembling wistfulness; it was impossible. The boy grinned exuberantly at Bayard and said without a hint of a tremor in his voice, "let's make an end of the villain as soon as may be, Sire."

Bayard urged his horse down the slope and said with a grim smile, "gladly my friend."

The elf cantered alongside the prince, "you really intend to go through with this! If this fiend is half what I expect, it cannot end well, for you or anyone else!"

"Yes," said Bayard gravely, "it will not end well for any of us, most especially the fiend, but as that is our goal, we will do as we must and see it through."

The elfin boy sighed heavily and allowed his horse to fall back alongside Kipril's, but the boy's determined look killed Ithril's words ere they were spoken, for he seemed of the same mind as his friend. He sighed heavily and wondered if he should just turn back to the Wood, but he knew it was impossible and whatever adventures awaited him in the outer world, it could not be worse than what he had left behind. He longed for that sense of duty and purpose that seemed to drive his companions onward, even to their own destruction. The elves knew nothing of such a concept, their whole focus was on pleasing themselves and they existed for no other reason.

Bayard reined in his horse to a slightly saner pace, allowing Kipril the chance to rummage in his saddlebags without fear of falling off. He pulled forth a shapeless bag, that he far too graciously called a hat, and tossed to Ithril with a smile, "there's enough excitement in the realm of late without an elf wandering about. You're back to being interesting, my friend."

Ithril looked at the sack with distaste, but heaved a sigh and heroically placed it on his head, hiding his telltale ears. "Well?" said he with a wry grin.

Bayard valiantly hid a smile, "you won't be setting any fashion trends me thinks, but neither will you be eliciting panic in the streets."

"I can live with that," said the elf with a laugh, "though things would be far different in my own homeland."

"What is your country like?" asked Kipril hopefully.

Ithril shook his head, "one disaster at a time my friend. Let us free your own folk from tyranny before discussing that which oppresses my own."

"You fled to escape some dire oppression?" asked Bayard curiously, "Is there aught that can be done to lift the burdens upon your own folk?"

Ithril could not help but smile, "you think that because you attempt the impossible in your own land you can do the same in mine? Let us survive this adventure before we attempt another. If you can thus rescue your own folk, perhaps there is hope for mine. I fled to spare myself, but have been thoroughly chastened by the price you are willing to pay to spare others, can I now do any less?"

"Good," said Kipril, rudely interrupting the awkward silence that wanted to interpose itself between them, "I was afraid we'd get bored after all is said and done. What with the Mirror and the Fairywood and elves and ogres and talking stags and vanquishing undead fiends, I just can't abide the thought of sitting down to afternoon tea as if nothing untoward has happened. Visiting an accursed city of the Elves will be just the thing! But then what will we do on the morrow?"

Ithril barked a laugh, "that is a conundrum indeed, but fear not, for I think it will take a day, or even two, to work your miracles on my grim folk so ennui will not again ensue for at least three days hence."

Bayard quipped back over his shoulder, "I should have left the both of you back in that Wood!" The offended pair exchanged a wry grin and a merry laugh.

Kipril retorted, once his mirth was controlled, "it is not our fault you have no sense of humor."

"True," said Bayard with a smile, "which makes me wonder all the more what you can possibly find so attractive about me that you insist on tagging along everywhere I go?"

"Pity," said Ithril, not missing a beat, "we can't abide the thought of letting you wander about alone, not to mention the trouble you'd get into without proper supervision!" Kipril's smile threatened to rend his face asunder while Bayard could only shake his head, hide his smile, and heave a long-suffering sigh.

They came at last to the royal city, but it was not the bustling and prosperous town Bayard had always known it to be, rather no one was abroad in the streets and a general atmosphere of grim despair hung over the city like a fog. Ithril said in surprise, "I had thought the ambiance of this place would be far removed from that afflicting my own kin, but this might well be a very city of the elves!"

Kipril said quietly, "I have lived here my entire life and never have I seen it thus."

Bayard said stonily, "the fiend is already having an influence, come, let us to my sister ere it is too late for her and the kingdom!"

They grimly set their faces towards the castle as their galloping hooves echoed in the distant alleys, causing many a weary and frightened citizen to look out at the window, wondering if it were hope or doom that clattered in the streets. The guards at the castle gates let them pass unhindered, for their hearts were no longer in their duties, for they had despaired of their very lives, but their positions were no longer necessary, for who would dare assault such a fiend of their own accord? They drew rein in the courtyard and left their horses to themselves, for no servants came running to see to the weary beasts or their riders' needs. The castle was nearly abandoned, for all who could had fled or were in hiding while the rest cowered at their posts, barely daring to breathe, lest the fiend look upon them. They entered the gardens, hoping to find the King, the Princess, and the Fiend therein, for the latter could not have gone far, else the air of menace would not hang so heavily over the castle and its occupants.

Bayard's heart nearly broke when he finally set eyes upon their quarry, for the Princess walked hand in hand with her vile betrothed, her shoulders slumped and her feet dragging, her eyes red with weeping and focused despairingly on the ground; the King walked a few paces behind them, like one in a daze. The Fiend savored their dismay like a fine wine, happily dragging out the engagement period that he might wring as much misery from the girl and her father as he could before ultimately destroying the Kingdom.

Bayard's sword rasped against the sheath as he drew it forth, crying aloud, "come Fiend! I challenge your claims upon this Kingdom and my sister!"

The villain dropped the maid's hand and smiled wickedly, "ah! You have returned, little hero! Here we had despaired of your courage, but alas, you have found no champion who can prevail against me. I will gladly accept your challenge; your death will make my betrothed's misery all the more acute. She could at least hold out hope as long as you had not returned, but when you lie dead at my feet, so shall her last grasp at freedom." His smile deepened in cruelty and mirth, "I will even let your second try his hand at me when you fall." He drew his sword as the King and Princess fled to the edge of the greensward, eyes wide in horror, fear, and dismay.

Bayard met him in the middle of the wide, grassy lawn while Kipril stood off to the side with sword drawn, impatiently waiting his turn. Ithril hid himself amongst the shrubbery, knowing his hat would not hide his identity from such a fiend, but he watched intently from his hiding place all that was to come. This close to the monstrosity, Bayard could feel terror and dread radiating off him like heat off a stove, but it could not quell the fire suddenly raging in his soul. He leapt at the monster, whose man-like features suddenly took on a serpentine cast, revealing his true nature. The fiend hissed in delight, "have at me little hero! You sister's tears shall fall unceasing!"

They exchanged sword strokes for a few moments, with neither taking nor giving any injury, until the monster broke through Bayard's defenses and ran the boy through the belly. He fell with an anguished cry, bringing Kipril at the run, forcing the fiend to defend himself rather than finishing off his opponent. The villain gloated, "it is futile, little mouse! Your friend is dying and soon you will both be dead, for no mortal man can best me." Kipril buried his blade in the fiend's heart as he gloried in his triumph a bit prematurely, but that did not keep the fiend from returning the favor with a strangled, "no, it is impossible." They fell together, unmoving upon the turf; the fiend soon melted into an oily black slick while the three onlookers rushed forward in disbelief towards the stricken survivor.

Bayard panted heavily as his father and sister knelt beside him, "thus is your Kingdom and daughter spared, Sire."

The King drew him close and wept, "oh, my son!"

The girl wept openly, but no longer in despair. Ithril stood awkwardly off to the side, not sure of his place at that particular moment, but Bayard had not forgotten him, said he quietly, "don't forget our next quest, though it may have to wait a day or two until matters have been fully settled here..." He trailed off with a groan before slumping dead in his father's arms.

The King and his daughter sobbed bitterly for some minutes, leaving Ithril alone to ponder the dying boy's words. A slight, eager smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as he recalled their discussion of immortality and death and life anew. At last, the King gained control of himself and looked at the strangely thin and tall boy standing nearby, "who are you? What did my son's dying words mean?"

The elf smiled awkwardly, "I met your son and his friend in the Fairywood, Sire. They promised to help free my own kin from just such oppression once your Kingdom was free, and I believe the Prince intends to keep his word."

"He's dead," said the King with a grimace.

"Strange things happen in the Wood, Sire," said Ithril quietly, "their tale is perhaps the strangest of all. How do you think they bested a creature no living man can kill?"

The King sat back on his haunches, "you're saying this is not the end of the tale?"

Ithril smiled in spite of himself, "the tale never, truly ends Sire, most especially for those who have entrusted themselves to the Master's keeping."

"Fairytales from the Fairywood," said the King in disgust.

Ithril removed his hat and the King gasped in astonishment, said he dryly, "and what better source, but I tell you Sire, some of the tales are true. Your son and his friend have fallen into one such. Mourn if you must, observe the proper funeral rites certainly, but not as one without hope." He squashed his cap back on his head and vanished deeper into the gardens. The King stared blankly after, scratched his head in perplexity, glanced at the dead Kipril, placed a comforting hand on his sobbing daughter's shoulder, and then studied his dead son. Fairytales indeed! He was a realist, his son had died heroically defending his sister and the Kingdom and to that he would cling, not to this nonsense that the boy could somehow defy death and live again, in the mortal world or beyond it, but in so doing, he would lose his son indeed, for unless he changed his mind ere the end, they would be forever separated by a gulf that could not be crossed; for the light can have nothing in common with the darkness and the boy was irrevocably bound to the former while his father preferred to linger in the lesser shadows of the latter.

The proper rites and ceremonies were observed befitting the valiant death of a crown prince, and while sad, the funeral seemed a relative celebration compared to the dread and fear that had hung over the realm of late. Kipril was interred beside his friend in the Royal Tomb, inseparable in death as they had been in life, though he was but the orphan son of a minor lord. The door was shut, the mourners went home, a disconsolate rain began to fall, and that should have been the end of the tale, but a certain rascally elf thought otherwise and lingered long after everyone else had gone their way.

Ithril's sensitive ears picked up a slight, muffled sound that might have been an earnest conversation going on betwixt two persons within the tomb, but that was ridiculous, at least to the King it would have been, but to the elf, it was joy itself. Ithril curiously approached the massive tomb, wondering how to open the great carved slab of marble that was the door of the royal crypt, but he had no need, for his two tardy companions stepped out into the gloomy afternoon as easily as if the door had stood wide open, rather than standing firm as the foundations of the earth. "I told you we could do it," said Kipril with his usual grin.

Bayard raised an eyebrow in amusement, "I suppose everyone is right, on occasion."

Kipril laughed, "you just need to quit thinking like a mortal Prince."

"True," said Bayard as his gaze fell on Ithril, "and here is just the elf to give me lessons on not thinking like a mortal."

Ithril held up his hands defensively and shook his head, "don't look at me! I could teach you to be an elf but I have no clue as to your current proclivities."

"No," said Kipril with his usual grin, "you could teach him about elves, but all of eternity would not be enough for him to learn to behave as befits a proper elf."

Bayard sighed, "don't we have things to be about, my friends? I never claimed to be an elf or to want to be one so the point is rather moot."

"That's just as well," smiled Ithril, "because where we're going, mortal men are far more interesting."

Kipril arched an eyebrow, "does that mean we are always interesting, being neither elves nor mortal men?"

Bayard barked a laugh, "one thing you are Kipril, is certainly interesting."

"I'm not sure I like your definition of the word in regards to myself," said his friend with a laugh, "but I think you have the right of it. Where did we leave our horses?"

Ithril beamed, "while you two have been wasting time, I've been busy. I have horses and supplies awaiting us just inside the woods."

"Excellent," said Bayard, glancing at Kipril, "why can't you be as thoughtful as him?"

"Just lazy, I guess," said Kipril with a grin, hastening after his friends as they hied themselves into the forest that verged upon the royal burial grounds. He nearly ran into Bayard, who had stopped and turned for a last look upon his former home.

Said he wistfully, "now where do I belong, this is no longer our home?"

Kipril smiled eagerly, "wherever our Master's will sends us, my friend, and that is a home from which we shall never more be parted." Bayard gave him a grateful smile and they continued on their way, to shine the light into the very heart of darkness.

Nightwolves

He could feel their hot, fetid breath on his cheek, even as he knew their bite was as cold and bitter as a winter tomb, nay as death itself. Fiery eyes glinted in the night like angry coals, watching, waiting, mocking. But those shadowy wolves with their glowing eyes were nothing to the horror that followed as a veritable inferno consumed the relatively peaceful darkness, as a flame-wrought dragon scattered his lupine minions with many a yelp of terror and dismay. The dream always ended the same way: the dragon studied him for a moment, its eyes far keener and more cruel and cunning than those of any man. And then he laughed, horribly, and promised that soon, very soon, all would come to naught.

Kyan jolted awake, as he always did, or thought he had, but he did not waken to find his darkened room alive with the snores and murmurs of his several sleeping brothers, but rather he found himself in a night dark wood with a full moon overhead, hazy in the shrouding veils of mist. His gaze met that of a little bird, a pert little magpie perched on an overhead branch, his head cocked curiously but the moment their eyes met, nothing else mattered. Wherein the dragon's eyes dwelt only cruelty and malice, those of the small avian form held only love and deepest sorrow. When he was again conscious of anything, having lost himself utterly in that fathomless sea of wonder found within the gaze of that little bird, Kyan shivered in awe and dread, but knew he had nothing to fear from the dragon if this wondrous bird was at his side.

"What must I do?" whispered the boy in breathless awe.

"Come to Me at last," said that bit of fluff and feathers.

"How?!" gaped the boy, "I know not the way!"

"Long have you known the door," said the bird patiently, "but you have been too wise in your own eyes to enter it."

The boy colored and said, "all those old tales my mother is ever telling? They are naught but fancy!"

"Fancy, perhaps," said He with a chuckle, "but My merest thought or whim is more Real than your present reality. As it is a tale of My telling, it must be True, no matter how fabulous." He eyed the boy pointedly with one beady eye, "though some think themselves too wise to listen or believe."

The boy shivered, "but the dragon!" He met those keen eyes and quivered, suddenly understanding that Whatever or Whoever this small creature truly was, He was far more terrible and wonderful than ever that dragon could dream of being and to fall into the hands of such a Being as an enemy or rebel was a dreadful thing indeed. But instead of crushing him to dust in complete despair, a sudden hope flared forth like a flame in the darkness, for this Being had not yet cast him out or destroyed him utterly, but rather asked him simply to Come, willingly and of his own accord, but it was deeper than that, greater than he could comprehend. For did he but listen, he would not be a penitent or an utter wretch, but rather a true son, an adopted heir! As understanding dawned in his mind, a smile lit his face, and a wondrous light obliterated everything.

At last he blinked blearily awake and gaped, for the sun was streaming merrily in through the open window and he was alone in the room, his brothers long up and about their breakfast and chores. He nearly panicked, wondering what his mother would think, but there she stood, beaming at him like the morning sun. She met his gaze, dropped her eyes like a nervous girl rather than a matron of vast experience, and when she looked up, she said almost shyly, "something has happened?"

He opened his mouth to say something, so far he had told no one of his strange dreams, but the words did not come, rather he gaped like some bucolic fool first setting eyes on a great city as he finally Saw his mother, rather than just looking at her as he had done his entire life. Her smile grew deep and knowing, as if she understood, was prouder of him than she could ever say, and that this was but the beginning of wondrous things to come. Continued she, giving him time to collect himself and his thoughts, "something did happen! Now what passed in the night to convince my ardent skeptic that the impossible might just happen?"

He smiled sheepishly and went on to tell of his recurring nightmare and of the strange ending to the episode of the previous night. When he had finished, she studied him thoughtfully, joy and tears fighting for supremacy on her countenance, at last she spoke, "so it took the Master Himself appearing to you to convince you of the Truth at last?" She shook her head and laughed merrily, "you have ever been a stubborn one, my child, but you have come Home at last." She embraced him heartily and then said quietly, a rogue tear escaping down one cheek, "it seems you have a destiny, my lad, and now that you have finally discovered what it is to truly live, I must set you free to do just that." She stepped away from him and sighed, "it is both a mother's greatest desire and her deepest sorrow: to send her children forth alone into the world."

She smiled sadly at her own remark, "but you go not alone, at least of this I need not fear. Whatever betide, we will not be forever sundered, as might otherwise have been and in that I will truly rejoice." With a sob, she buried her face in her hands and fled the room before her composure broke down utterly, leaving Kyan to gape after and wonder what any of it meant. He extricated himself from the sheets that had wrapped themselves about him in his nocturnal thrashings and began his morning preparations, acting completely by rote, for his mind was busy with all that had happened.

A quest? A destiny? He smiled wryly to himself, what an absurd idea! Just like those old tales: absurd but true. He was the third of eight sons and had four sisters as well, and a farmer's son at that. But then all the good stories seemed to begin that way, so why not his? He shivered, for he knew his dream was no mere nightmare but the very truth. Whatever that dragon was, he would come and ere his coming, his wolfish emissaries would certainly be dogging his heels. But why?

The boy froze as his eyes fell upon that same awful bird from his dream as it perched atop the vanity and chirruped merrily, "because My enemy thinks I intend to make something great of you child and he will do all within his power to corrupt or destroy My plans."

The boy gaped, "whyever would he have such a strange notion?" The bird somehow managed to smile despite His beak and Kyan suddenly knew that that was the appearance his Master intended to give and the Enemy had indeed taken the bait. But why?

"To distract him from My true intentions," said He quietly. He cocked His head, "will you do it?"

The boy blinked, knowing somehow, though the words were unspoken, that this fool quest would somehow claim his life, that he was merely a decoy so that another man might live to receive all the glory and honor. He looked again into those fathomless eyes and knew this small avian thing, in human guise, had once done something considered far more foolish for the sake of all mankind. Could he do any less? He nodded minutely, the bird's smile deepened, and then He was gone. The boy sighed in pleasure, knowing he had chosen rightly and that his Master's Joy was Joy indeed. He quickly finished his preparations and then went down to the kitchen, where his mother was puttering about, seemingly none the worse for their emotional encounter.

He sat down at the table and looked to her expectantly. She put down whatever had been consuming her attention and seated herself across from him, a mixture of joy, pity, and anticipation on her face. They were alone, for everyone else was abroad already, and just sat there enjoying the silence for a long wonderful moment. At last, Kyan spoke, "you look different this morning; why have I never noticed it before?"

She smiled warmly at him and said, "because you can now See. You have entered a far larger world: a reality far vaster than our meager mortal imaginations can comprehend. Things that were once invisible to you: immortal, eternal, spiritual realities, are now visible, though some you can merely see but cannot yet interact with."

"I do not understand," said the boy plaintively.

She smiled in that knowing fashion that had annoyed him since he was very young, for he felt she knew far more than he ever would and enjoyed that fact far too keenly, but in knowing they would soon be parted, somehow that smile became more dear to him than he could ever express. It deepened and he knew she knew and in that he must be content. Said she at last, "just like a baby learning to walk, my son, so too must you learn what it is to now See."

"I don't want to be a baby," groused the boy.

She laughed warmly, "is it not better to be a living, thriving baby rather than a dead man?"

"I suppose," said he with a sigh, "all this is very confusing."

"I know," said she, her smile returning with a vengeance, "and had you listened from the first, you would not be trying to learn to swim while trying to rescue someone else from drowning."

His eyes widened and he said, "you know?!"

She shook her head sadly, "I am guessing, but those dreams cannot be mere happenstance, they must mean something. I assume you will shortly be in the very heart of an adventure."

"All too true," said Kyan with a sigh, "I just wish I knew what it was."

She chuckled at this, knowing her son was always one who was determined to fly before he even knew if he had wings or not, said she, "all in good time, child."

But at that very moment, it seemed that Kyan's impatience was all too soon rewarded, at least as far as his mother was concerned, as a ragged and distraught young man wandered into the kitchen, as if he was but one more of that dear lady's immense brood, for in her eyes, he most certainly was. Kyan was on his feet in a moment, but his greetings died aborning as he caught the look of utter dismay in his dearest friend's eyes. Said he quietly, "what is it Ithril?"

The boy collapsed into the nearest chair and was lost to all rational thought or conversation as he finally loosed the tears he had been fighting back since the event occurred. Kyan's mother rose without a word and went to fetch the aggrieved lad some tea while Kyan was left to stand there awkwardly while his friend wept bitterly into the tablecloth. At last his sobbing subsided and he gratefully took a calming gulp of tea, before facing the two curious and pitying faces before him. Said he at last, after a hiccupping false start, "my mother died early this morning." This was no surprise to any of them as the poor woman had been ailing for months, but his next words nearly froze their hearts in grief, "and my father has already brought home my new stepmother." He collapsed again into heaving sobs while Kyan exchanged a horrified look with his mother.

There were rumors of course, but they were only rumors, or so Kyan had hoped. Ithril's father was well known as a drunkard and a wastrel, one who left his family to live in poverty while he drank most of what little he earned when he bothered himself with trying to make a living by some means. Kyan knew the man was abusive towards his wife and son, but not to what extent, as the lad was quite unwilling to speak at length or depth upon the topic. When his mother had taken ill, the man had hied himself from the house and buried himself in a bottle, rarely coming home to spend time with his aggrieved family. But to bring home another woman before his first wife was even decently buried was obscene beyond even the worst rumors circulating about the man.

"I'm leaving," said the boy grimly, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Of course you are," said Kyan's mother matter-of-factly, "just as soon as we have a proper funeral for your dear mother and Kyan will happily go with you." Both boys gaped at her in astonishment but their only answer was that infuriating smile. They exchanged a wondering look and then sad, eager smiles, as they knew she had the right of it.

Kyan's family and some of their closer neighbors were quickly assembled while Ithril and Kyan went to consult with the widower. He had no interest whatsoever in a funeral, bid the boy be gone and bother him no longer, and slammed the door in his face with a shouted, "I'm starting afresh, you'd best do the same!" The boy sighed heavily, but said nothing as Kyan helped him load his mother's mortal remains into the wagon. The burial was a quiet and simple affair, just as she would have wanted, and after the mourners dispersed into the gathering evening shadows, the boys returned to the house with the rest of the family for a last meal together and a good night's sleep.

Ithril woke with the chickens, eager to be off, much to the dismay of the groggy Kyan, but he did not protest too much, as he was glad to see such eagerness and hope kindled in his friend's words and demeanor, something he had feared had died with the boy's mother and his father's brutality and indifference. Kyan's mother had anticipated them and had been long awake, preparing what they would need for a long and tedious journey. Kyan gaped, "is father letting us take a pack animal?"

"Certainly not," said she with a laugh, "perhaps I did prepare a little too much however. You know we mothers are sometimes a bit overprotective, but it will do you no good if you can't physically carry it." They went through the baggage again, this time winnowing it down to a more reasonable bulk before setting off with many tears and smiles as the whole brood saw fit to bid them farewell as they set forth into the wide world, adventure bent; not knowing where they were going, only that they must.

As they trudged along, Ithril lost in his own thoughts, Kyan at last had time to contemplate his own situation. His mother was correct: he could See and he still wasn't sure what to think of the phenomenon, especially when he had no name or explanation or understanding for what it was he was seeing. It was as if he had been born blind and suddenly his eyes had been opened yet he could no more describe what it was he saw than the man no longer blind could differentiate a maple from an elm though he might have a vague notion of what a tree was. Worse, some of the things he saw were downright frightening, but they seemed to pay him as little heed as he had them before he could actually see them, oblivious as he had been to their presence. At last he came to the conclusion that though he now might be able to See, it did not mean he could now interact with or touch those things he could now observe. It was as if he watched through a window. But what was the point?

He suddenly felt that wondrous bird that was not a bird perched on his shoulder and only old habit kept him walking at a steady pace rather than stumbling headlong into the ditch on the near side of the road. Said He, "you have to quit thinking like a mortal man, child, though that currently is your situation. I made you for something far grander than to live a hundred years and then to dissolve into dust. You were made to last forever, but whether in undimmed splendor or in darkness so deep it makes the starless void bright by comparison, that is up to each soul to determine for itself. You have chosen the Light and have thereby declared yourself a citizen of My Kingdom, and as such, your eyes have been opened to things usually hidden to the gaze of mortal men. Some you will understand, but much you will not. One day, your knowledge will be complete, but until then you must trust Me and act as you know you should. Farewell!"

Kyan sighed heavily, already missing that wondrous Presence and unexcited to learn that for a time at least, his knowledge of this strange new world he could now glimpse would be incomplete. Ithril turned startled and apologetic eyes upon his friend, "forgive me! I was so absorbed in my own thoughts that I thought nothing of you and yours and here you and your kin have been nothing but Kindness itself even before these tragic days! What troubles you my friend?"

Kyan could not help but smile ruefully, "just my own unsatisfied curiosity, that's all."

"Impatient as ever, I see," said Ithril with a sad smile, "at least some things never change."

Kyan shook his head in wonder, "nay friend, everything has!"

Ithril eyed his friend strangely, as if he feared for his sanity, "I don't understand."

"Of course not," said Kyan with another ponderous sigh. He suddenly knew he could not discuss his dreams with his friend, at least not yet, especially where hostile ears might be listening, he must at least try and maintain appearances. But perhaps there was something else they might discuss, and of far more import than any mortal quest would ever be. Said he cautiously, wondering what his friend's response would be, knowing what his mother's had been. He had been something of a renowned skeptic and here he was suddenly on the opposite side of the fence! At last, he said in a rush before his nerve failed, "what think you of the old tales?"

Ithril raised a questioning brow, "they're old tales, what of them?" After a thoughtful silence and a careful study of his friend, his jaw dropped for a moment, only to be replaced by a wry smile, "I never thought I'd see the day! You!? The greatest of all skeptics have surrendered at last?"

Kyan blushed fiercely, "see how the mighty have fallen." Said he eagerly, "and if it can happen to me, why not to you?"

"I think not," said Ithril with a feral grin, "there's a whole world out there to discover, let me have a look around before I bind myself irrevocably to some silly tales told by old wives round a winter fire." He frowned questioningly at his friend, "and what finally drove you to such desperate extremes?"

Kyan smiled in sheer wonder, letting the residual awe of his intriguing interview shine forth unfettered, "let us just say it was told me in such a way I dared not defy or resist it any longer."

Ithril was rather envious of his friend's joy, but did his best to hide it, saying blandly, "I see. And now let us agree to disagree. You enjoy your natal faith while I assume the crown of resident skeptic. Agreed?"

"If that is your wish," said Kyan slowly, wishing his friend could find whatever it was he himself had found, but knowing, like himself, he would not be argued into belief, but rather must submit to it willingly but only after setting aside his assumptions, doubts, pride, and supposed wisdom. It would take a miracle indeed. He smiled eagerly, remembering that he was now in the miracle business, or rather his Master was. With a lighter heart, he continued silently on his way, Ithril having resumed his own contemplations.

"Where exactly are we bound and why?" asked Kyan, one morning as he stretched the kinks out of his muscles from another night of sleeping rough.

"Haven't a clue," said Ithril merrily, the excitement and relief of being away from so miserable a home still radiating from his being, "but I am glad your mother made you come."

Kyan snorted, "I would have come regardless. You can't go having adventures without me, you know?"

"I suppose not," said Ithril as he glanced about distractedly, mulling over the same problem that had assaulted them upon stopping for the night: which way to go. They had come to a crossroads and camped at the intersection, hoping some wanderer thereupon might further direct them, but so far nothing had passed but the wind in the night.

"One way is as good as another," said Kyan with a laugh, "at least if you don't know where you are going."

Ithril gave him a feigned frown and began rummaging in his pack for the map they had already consulted a dozen times or more since the previous evening. While Ithril was thus occupied, Kyan had his own conundrum to deal with. He had grown used to many of the strange and varied sights now visible to him, but as it seemed he had no business with them or they with him, he was quickly learning to ignore them as he might a tree or cloud in passing, but this particular vision seemed to have other ideas. A unicorn stood there, plain as day, as if waiting for permission to speak, at least to him; Ithril was completely oblivious, glaring at his map and muttering under his breath.

Kyan glanced uneasily at his companion, and the creature nodded, "you need not reply, my friend, for I see your companion sees me not and would thus think you mad. It has been long since I had the pleasure of meeting a Lightwalker." Kyan frowned at the vision in incomprehension and the creature laughed like a hundred Springs in full flower, "ah, you are but a foal then and know nothing at all about the journey you have undertaken?" Kyan nodded sheepishly and the unicorn smiled, "fear not child, for every journey must begin somewhere and glad am I that you now tread that blessed path. Remember, when things grow dark, that our Master is never far and He is the Light that will one day drive away all darkness. As to your path, I would recommend continuing towards the north, for the road will soon bear you into far more civilized country, at least as your folk would call it." With dancing eyes, he watched Ithril fling the map aside in frustration, and said in farewell, "we shall meet again, child. Until then, may our Master smile upon you!"

Kyan stood, retrieved the map, glanced at it indifferently, and said, "we'll go north."

Ithril frowned, "why north all of a sudden?"

Kyan smiled impishly, "we'll find more civilized lands in that direction. I seem to recall hearing so once, but if there's a reason not to go that way, by all means lead whither you will."

Ithril shrugged into his pack and said, "it doesn't matter to me; let's be about it then!"

They set off and trudged on for nearly a week, with nothing very exciting happening, at least as Ithril saw it, though Kyan was growing daily more used to the unearthly sights all about him. Most either ignored them or perhaps could not see them or interact with them, so treated them as if they were nothing more exciting than fence posts, that is to say paid them no heed at all. A few, like the unicorn, were of a genial nature and often paused to chat with the boy if an opportunity presented itself or at least smiled in passing and wished him well. And then there were the Dread Things, as Kyan came to call them, various shadowy creatures that watched and mocked and undoubtedly spied for their vile master but which were either not yet capable of or bold enough to approach the travelers. Kyan shuddered to think what might happen if they did. Neither did the dreams cease, but rather they grew nightly worse, more intense and more real, from which he often woke sweating and terrified, but still, somehow, he felt his confidence and eagerness growing day by day, for he knew his Master was greater than even the dragon or his fell wolves.

That night they came to an inn, a real inn, just like in one of the stories and Ithril had grand hopes of actually spending the evening in the common room, if not the night. "Are you sure about this?" said Kyan, as they stood on the opposite side of the road in the gathering dusk, "we aren't exactly rich."

Ithril eyed him curiously, "where is your sense of adventure? You are starting to sound like your mother!"

"Oh dear!" said Kyan aghast, though in this instance it was probably a very good thing, for he felt something dreadful waited within, that a veritable cloud of evil seemed to hover over that particular inn. He had noticed it previously as they had journeyed, this aura of unease, evil, or disquiet that seemed to gather itself around certain places or creatures and he knew innately that he should trust it, but this was the first time it confronted them directly. Previously he would have charged ahead without question, but it seemed that not only could he See, he could also now Discern, and at least he had to stop and think before he acted rashly. He was turning into his mother!

"Come on!" said Ithril impatiently, forging ahead, forcing his companion to follow or be left behind. "It will be fun!" though he did not sound near so confident as he hoped. With a grimace of fear that he too was turning into Kyan's mother, he increased his pace, only to find the door held against them by three rascally looking men. Kyan gaped, for the fellows wore a veritable cloak of blackness, the evil about them every bit as palpable as that about the inn itself.

"Not so fast," sneered the first, "there's nothing for you wretched peasant children inside. Just you skedaddle back to your mommy as quick as may be and she won't have anything to cry about."

Ithril blanched, but was not about to let such a bully dictate where and how he went about his business, "we've as much right to go in and out as you or anyone."

The man simply laughed him to scorn as Kyan squawked in indignation and grabbed the hand of the second fellow as he tried to snatch the lad's belt pouch. The man snarled and struck out with a dagger, burying it in Kyan's abdomen. The boy groaned and backed away, as the fiend laughed, "that will teach you to interfere!"

Ithril frowned at the exchange, having missed all but the last comment, but thinking better of the situation, said quietly to Kyan, "there is no sense in antagonizing these fellows, there shall be inns aplenty upon our way." Kyan nodded weakly, clutching at his abdomen under cover of his cloak, as they both withdrew to the mocking laughs and hollers of the door guards. The man who had stabbed the boy called after, "watch out for the Nightwolves, Lightwalker!" Which elicited more hooting and laughter from his companions, but the boys could only exchange a puzzled glance and vanish into the welcoming gloom of the shadows.

"What was that about?" asked Ithril as they settled down for the night. "Nightwolves?" scoffed he, "It sounds like something out of your old gran's tales!" He smiled slightly, "but then you think all that nonsense is true. I hope his warning won't give you nightmares."

"I've had worse dreams than he could ever elicit," said Kyan through gritted teeth, trying to keep Ithril ignorant of his true condition, "get some sleep. I'll keep watch."

"Not a bad idea with such scoundrels about," agreed Ithril sleepily, "wake me for my turn." He was soon asleep and Kyan allowed himself to indulge in a hearty groan of agony as he slumped back against an obliging tree. He withdrew his hand from his wound and it came away red with blood; the man had struck hard and deep, if the wound itself didn't kill him the wound fever undoubtedly would. But worse, there was a coldness about the wound, as if the tissue was already part of a corpse three days dead. And that parting comment was no idle taunt either; somehow that dagger, this wound, would draw the creatures and at last his dream would find fulfillment. He glanced uneasily at his sleeping friend and wondered what to do for Ithril, for if the creatures fell upon them, there could be no hope for either of them.

"Easy lad," came a gentle voice.

Kyan flinched in surprise, gritting his teeth against the ensuing pain, as he looked up into the eyes of a curious and concerned stranger, who seemed to have materialized out of thin air. His eyes narrowed as he fully took in the man, his heart sank as he realized there was no slight radiance about his person as there was about his mother and others of mortal stock who trusted in the Master's grace. But that did not necessarily make him evil or dangerous either. He doubted there was much to be done in his own case, but perhaps he could be of use to Ithril. He glanced hopefully at his friend and the man nodded, "don't worry, we'll take good care of your friend, but first, we must see to that wound."

"What is to be done?" said the boy weakly. The man motioned him to silence, whether to save his strength or for fear of waking Ithril, he knew not. He knelt beside the boy and drew aside his cloak and tunic, studying the wound carefully, seeming to have no difficulty, even in the wan moonlight.

He grimly met the boy's eyes, "that was no common knife, lad. This is the work of black sorcery if ever I saw it. Have you any idea what your attacker intended?"

Kyan shook his head, "we were only trying to go into the inn just down the road and he tried to snatch my purse."

The man gaped at the boy but could not hide his astonished smile, "you two are either bolder than any man has a right to be or know nothing at all of the wide world."

"I fear it is the latter," said the boy weakly, darkness began to gnaw at the edges of his vision and he felt more tired than he had ever been in his entire life.

"Stay with me lad," said the man in growing alarm, "did he say or do anything else? It seems an egregious waste of effort to inflict such a curse upon a penniless peasant."

Having difficulty concentrating, Kyan said dazedly, "he said something about watching out for Nightwolves and said something about a Lightwalker, whatever that is."

"Ah," said the man with a grim smile, "that's his game then. That particular hex will draw the fell beasts to you like hornets to sugar. Even if the wound does kill you, they won't be content until every last bit of your mortal flesh has been utterly consumed. He somehow knew you belonged to the Master, that's what a Lightwalker is lad, and just thought he'd hasten you along to your eternal destiny."

"Lovely," said the boy weakly, glancing sadly at his friend, "what will come of Ithril?"

The man smiled in grim anticipation, "he'll be safe enough, for he is not their target." He glanced again at the boy, who now slumped senseless against the tree, shaking his head, he said, "not so fast lad. You can't slip into eternity just yet." A flicker of azure light entered the inert form as the man laid a gentle hand on Kyan's chest.

The boy flinched awake and blinked in astonishment, "what just happened?"

The man smiled broadly, "you were about to give up and go Home before your task was complete."

The boy frowned, "I do not understand."

"Obviously," said the man with a grin, "I couldn't let you die quite yet."

"The dream," said the boy heavily.

The man nodded, "tonight it will find its fulfillment I think." He glanced at the sleeping form of Ithril, "I'll get your companion away from here."

Kyan nodded sadly and said, "thank you, whatever it is you did, and for helping my friend."

Garren saluted smartly before picking up the soundly sleeping boy, "only doing my duty, as you are doing yours. Take heart lad, our Master has already overcome the Dark, whatever betide." Kyan smiled faintly but the man had vanished with his burden, leaving him alone with the darkness, at least the pain in his side was gone. Frowning, he touched the wound and gasped to find the flesh dead and cold in an ever expanding ring, but it no longer seemed imminently fatal, not that it mattered, if the dream was to come true this very night. He smiled grimly and wished he had a sword and more so that he knew the use of one. He gaped in surprise to find just such a weapon girt to his side and upon drawing it forth, he felt as if he very well knew the use of it too.

"You think your pathetic weapon is any use against us, Lightwalker?" came the same sneering voice he had heard a thousand times in his dreams but this time it stalked the waking world.

Kyan set himself and said, "whether it is or not, toy with me no longer!"

"You have been marked as one of our own," snarled the greatest of the brutes, Kyan could count at least a dozen pairs of fiery eyes glowing in the darkness, "either to join us or to be consumed as so much carrion. What is your choice?" The look on Kyan's face was answer enough and the entire pack was soon upon him, ripping, snapping, and tearing as Kyan hacked and slashed with his sword, as if he were fighting some monstrous bramble back home. The brutes yipped and snarled as his blade struck true but neither did their attacks leave Kyan unscathed. He felt bits of himself torn off by brutal teeth only to disappear down shadowy gullets, though the rending and tearing of his flesh stung somewhat, it was in no way debilitating or lethal as it ought to have been.

The pack eventually backed away, whining in confusion and frustration at both their inexplicable wounds and at their enemy's complete failure to lie down and die as was only proper. Then they yipped in absolute terror and fled into the shadows as Kyan turned to face what could only be the dragon. He barely had cognizance enough to realize that where the fiends had ripped away his mortal flesh, the missing tissue had immediately been replaced by some sort of ethereal stuff that seemed wrought of mist and moonbeams, as the night itself seemed to catch fire about him, he wondered if this new miracle was resistant to dragon flames.

"Little fool!" mocked the monstrosity, "Think you that your vile master's plans can amount to anything? You may somehow have survived my little pets but you stand absolutely no chance against me!"

"No," said the boy meekly, grounding his swordpoint and going to one knee with his head bowed over the hilt, "you are not mine to fight, but rather my Master's and I stand no chance whatsoever against your might save some miracle of His contriving."

"A pity you would not be corrupted," hissed the great beast, "this is rather anticlimactic," as his fire swept over the boy, who evaporated like so much mist in the rising dawn, leaving the night again to its own musings.

Garren appeared as suddenly as he had vanished, still clutching the sleeping form of Ithril, whom he replaced in his previous position, none the wiser that an epic battle had just raged thereupon. His hand then began to glow, gathering some of the dragon's lingering reek into a radiant, azure mass that quickly resolved itself into a boy, kneeling with head bowed over his grounded sword. Kyan looked up in astonishment, his wide eyes meeting Garren's vastly amused smile. Said he quietly, "it is time you Knew lad, and not just See, but also Act."

The boy's return smile was eagerness itself, but suddenly both froze in awe as a little bird fluttered out of the night and lit on the lad's shoulder, saying quietly, "no, not yet." He cocked His head and caught the boy's puzzled gaze with one keen eye, "My ruse has not yet run its course, child, you must be clothed in flesh once more." At the boy's heavy sigh, the magpie laughed merrily, "patience child, whatever betide, I am ever with you." As He flapped off, He said in parting, "what this party needs is an escort, that will certainly garner My enemy's attention. Farewell!" The pair sighed in very joy, shared a wondering smile, and immediately got down to business.

Said Garren, as the boy gained his feet, "I suppose He means me." His smile deepened even as it became predatory, "and you must be the bait."

Kyan shook his head in dismay, "I've already been a snack for Nightwolves and roasted by a dragon, I had hoped I had had enough of adventure for the time being."

Garren laughed heartily, "aye lad, it will be quite dull after that, but you've chosen the wrong profession if you want a nice quiet eternity."

"Profession?" said the boy, perking up significantly, "I thought I was just another scruffy mortal kid again."

"You are that too," said Garren with a chuckle, "but you've passed the gates of death, lad, and He did not bring you back simply so you could settle down with a homely wife and plod behind a plow for the next five decades. You've got an assignment, which means you are still a Messenger, whether you are in possession of our full skillset or more interesting nature or not. So don't go making eyes at the girls and you'll get along just fine."

Kyan could not help but laugh, "that was not even on my list of things I'd like to accomplish on this adventure, especially since I doubt things will be as dull as you predict, enticing bit of cheese that I am."

"That's a relief," said Garren, his smile pure mischief, "because we're not allowed to do that sort of thing anyway." He frowned in feigned dismay, "I've never chaperoned a cheese before."

Kyan burst out laughing, "well there's a first time for everything, you've also taught me a little of what it is to be a Messenger, whatever that is: no fraternizing with girls."

"That's about all you need to know," said Garren, far too seriously.

"Then what are you hanging around here for if you've imparted all the wisdom you possess?" said Kyan with an impish grin.

"Sorry," said Garren, "orders, you'll just have to put up with me for the foreseeable future, Master Cheese."

"Very well," said Kyan thoughtfully, "how shall we go about it then?"

"Since you are supposed to be the preeminent member of the party, at least as far as the servants of the Enemy are concerned, I'll defer to you and act as your personal bodyguard, unless your friend is truly in peril, at which point you will be completely on your own."

"Understood," said Kyan with that same irritating grin, "though I am thoroughly disgusted that you won't stand your ground in defense of a helpless piece of cheese."

"I'll just have to ensure the cheese and his companion can defend themselves when the time comes," said Garren with a nod, "do you think your friend would appreciate a few sword lessons?"

"Would he?" said Kyan with a laugh, "He'd love nothing more." He frowned thoughtfully, "I seemed to know a thing or two about swords, at least when those horrid wolves appeared."

"You'll be amazed at what you can now do, should you have need of it that is," said Garren, "though time and practice are still required to perfect your technique and make you an even match for an experienced foe."

Kyan smiled wryly as he studied his boots, "it did feel more as if I was hacking at a stump with an axe rather than skillfully defending myself against a deadly foe."

"Twelve to one are rather long odds, especially for a beginner," said Garren with a knowing smile, "don't worry, you can't get out of my lessons that easily."

Kyan smiled broadly, "it is good to know you are in possession of more knowledge than that tidbit you have already imparted." Sobering, he continued, "you still haven't told me what a Messenger is."

Garren nodded, but could not completely hide his smile, "I've been too busy following a certain irascible cheese down a wide variety of rabbit trails to be of any practical use. But I shall promptly rectify that ghastly oversight, my dear sir. A Messenger is simply a man beyond death and time who has returned to the mortal sphere at our Master's behest to counter those servants of our Enemy which are also beyond mortal ken."

"Nightwolves," said the boy with a shudder.

"Among others," said Garren, unconsciously grasping his sword hilt.

"What of those villains at the inn?" said Kyan with a frown, "How did that fellow know I was anything more interesting than a scruffy peasant?"

"He was probably a Spy," said Garren in disgust, "a man who has sold himself bodily to our Enemy but still goes about in the flesh, which limits his power to a few dirty tricks, like siccing those Nightwolves on you, but it does allow him to See."

"You said we were to counter foes beyond mortal ken," said the boy, "what about mortal men?"

"We can do them no harm," said Garren quietly, but he smiled like a rogue and added, "but they don't usually know that and by the time they figure it out, usually we're long gone."

Kyan flexed his hand, frowned at it thoughtfully for a moment, and then met Garren's gaze, "what about me?"

Garren chuckled, "sorry lad, mortal though you be, you'll have to use your wits instead of your sword, just like the rest of us."

Kyan smiled sheepishly, "not that a sword would much avail me anyway." He frowned, "what is going on at that disreputable inn?"

"Who knows?" said Garren with a grimace, "It is a renowned gathering place for all sorts of villains and every sort of mischief might be brewing therein; the miasma of evil about the place is particularly pungent tonight. Something big is in the making." He raised a skeptical eyebrow, "and you two were just going to waltz in there, wide eyed as newborn lambs?"

Kyan shook his head, "it was Ithril's idea not mine, I couldn't let him go in alone!"

"Of course not," said Garren with a grin, "you weren't curious in the least?"

"Certainly not," said the boy with a wry smile, "what do you take me for: a clueless kid from some backwater farm who has never seen an inn before?"

"Something like that," said Garren with a chuckle.

Kyan shuddered again, "that horrible dragon, was that the Enemy himself?"

"Perhaps," said Garren grimly, "or perhaps one of his greater servants, either way, he'll think you expunged from the mortal sphere. When he discovers the Master Himself brought you back from the grave, things will certainly get interesting." Garren's smile became feral, "which will only confirm that you supposedly have a mortal destiny of some significance."

"Just another day in the life of a cheese," said Kyan, but with far more dread than mirth.

Garren studied the sleeping Ithril and mused to himself, "I wonder what his destiny is and what he will think when it falls full upon him?" He returned his attention to the distraught boy and smiled warmly, "easy lad, you have a destiny too, and perhaps far more interesting than his. No matter what happens, remember, you are never alone nor forgotten."

"True," said Kyan, his grin returning, "I certainly could not have survived a confrontation with any of those horrid creatures on my own, let alone triumphing over them."

"A thing which you have yet to do," reminded Garren with a rogue smile.

A thought suddenly occurred to the boy and he said with a frown, "will those wolves still be after me?"

Garren nodded grimly, "aye lad, though you are no longer Marked as one of their own, they'll dog your heels until you are destroyed or they are."

"At least things will remain interesting," said Kyan with a wide yawn, "but I fear I must get a little rest ere dawn."

"I'll keep watch," said Garren, adding with a wry grin, "I forget how inconvenient it is to travel with mortal men." But the boy did not respond, for he was already fast asleep. Garren smiled warmly upon the sleeping lad before returning his attention to the things that dared go bump in the night with a Messenger warding the camp. Nothing bumped whilst his charges slept, at least to his knowledge, but he did his best to suppress an eager, knowing smile as the Enemy's spies no doubt took in every detail of the little camp and hied themselves off with this very intriguing revelation. Things would be very interesting indeed.

The next morning found Ithril stretching awake and yawning widely, staring in bafflement at the stranger in their midst while Kyan slept on as one dead, oblivious to all that stirred within the camp and around it. Garren smiled at the perplexed lad and introduced himself, "I hope you don't mind company lad, for I'm of a mind to tag along with you penniless wanderers for a time. In exchange for your forbearance I'll gladly teach you what I know of both the sword and the wide world. What do you say? Your exhausted friend there is all for the idea."

Ithril eyed the sleeping Kyan for a moment and then studied the man anew, he was certainly as unexceptionable a man as he had ever seen, at least in appearance, but he did not sound a fiend or a villain nor were his terms egregious and had he truly wished to make mischief, he could have easily been about it while the boys slept. "Very well," said Ithril slowly, "but you leave the moment either of us tells you and that will be the end of it."

"Agreed," said Garren jovially, "I'll go start breakfast."

Ithril gaped, "usually we just eat something out of our packs."

"I am sure your bread is either moldy or depleted by now," said Garren, "and as it seems our third companion might be abed for some time yet, why not let me treat you to something a little more filling?"

"Very well," said Ithril doubtfully, "astonish me."

And so he did. By the time Kyan awoke, Garren had a veritable feast set out for the lads, at least by recent standards, and they eagerly helped themselves to his hearty and filling fare. No sooner had they finished their repast than he had somehow miraculously cleaned everything up and ordered them into their saddles.

Ithril blinked, "saddles? We don't even have horses..." He trailed off as his eyes fell upon three actual horses standing there and impatiently tossing their heads or stomping their feet in anticipation of being off. Ithril shook his head in wonder, "you are most welcome to our party sir!"

"Just forget the whole sir thing and we'll get along just fine lad," said Garren with a chuckle, "don't you know you are in a fairytale and you have hardly begun to see the wonders unfold before you?"

"After this," said Ithril in wonder, "I'll believe just about anything."

"Then let's be off and I'll regale you with tales of your Benefactor," said Garren eagerly.

Ithril frowned, "anything but that."

"I see," said Garren blandly, "but let's be off all the same." Ithril could not argue with that and they were soon trotting out into the burgeoning day.

Said Kyan with a grin, as he rode beside Garren for a moment, "is this a demonstration of those useful skills you hinted at last night?"

"But the least of them, lad," said Garren joyously, "now you'd best go talk to your friend. He's quite the skeptic! I did not mean to offend him so."

"Don't worry about him," said Kyan with a chuckle, "if lunch is half as good as breakfast, he'll soon forgive you, besides, he's had to put up with me for the balance of the journey so it is nothing new." He kicked his horse to a faster pace that he might catch up with Ithril, who had ridden some distance ahead, lost in his own maunderings.

He jumped at the sound of approaching hooves but smiled slightly to see it was Kyan, only to frown in dismay, "where did our uncanny companion come from?" He grimaced, "please tell me he won't be pontificating on your favorite topic for the duration of our journey."

"Of course not," said Kyan with a laugh, "he did not realize the topic unsettled you so. He won't bring it up unless you ask him specifically, much as I have tried to respect your delicate sensibilities. As to his sudden appearance, he happened along last night and I thought we might benefit from his company, being clueless strangers in the wide world as we are, and he agreed to accompany us."

"What does he get out of it?" asked Ithril, though obviously relieved at his companion's words, but still not entirely trusting the man's fortuitous appearance. He managed to quirk a smile, "and my sensibilities are not as delicate as you imply, I was just in a rather vulnerable state at that particular moment. Your nonsense will neither corrupt nor offend me in future."

"A pity that," said Kyan with his own answering grin, "as to what benefit this journey can be to him, I haven't the foggiest idea, but I'm sure he'd be happy to tell you himself. You need but ask."

"Some other time perhaps," said Ithril thoughtfully, "for now, let us see how things go, for if they continue as promised, this journey might be pleasant indeed!"

"Perhaps," said Kyan doubtfully, recalling his own adventures thus far, "perhaps."

The day passed uneventfully, save that Garren provided an equally impressive lunch and began their promised sword lessons that very afternoon when they stopped for a rest. As they stopped again that night, Ithril said eagerly to Kyan, "this is working out rather splendidly after all, just like in the stories!"

Kyan laughed heartily, "that it is my friend, and as our companion said only this morning, we have truly fallen headlong into just that." He nodded appreciatively, "you are quite the hand with a sword even though you've never even held such a weapon!"

"Thanks," said Ithril, quite pleased, "perhaps I was born to be a soldier rather than a farmer after all."

"Time will tell," said Kyan, far too thoughtfully.

But there was no more time for chatter as Garren insisted his protégés practice their sword skills one more time before the light failed utterly. When it was too dark to see, at least for Ithril, Kyan found he could see quite well, even in the deepening gloom of twilight, Garren called a halt to their practice session and sent Kyan off to gather wood for a fire while he and Ithril began setting up camp. There was very little available wood to be found alongside the road, forcing the boy to go further into the ever-deepening shadows of the surrounding trees in search of fuel, wherein he came face to face with one of the horrors of the previous night. His hand strayed instinctively to his sword hilt, another timely provision of their uncanny companion, but the thing did not leap upon him as he thought it inevitably must. It only wanted to talk, for the moment at least.

"Lightwalker!" snarled the beast in a terrible language known only to such fell things, but miraculously translated into the boy's native tongue by the same grace that allowed him to see in the dark, "How is it you live? Do you not know you belong to us? The ends of the earth are not far enough for you to flee from us! We will find you and destroy all your fell master intends!" Only then did the thing leap upon him, but not to kill and destroy as it had promised, but rather to inflict a rather shallow and otherwise trifling bite. It withdrew with a malicious laugh, "you belong to us!" Kyan shook his head in wonder, wrapped a strip of cloth around his injured arm, and finished his assigned task ere returning to camp.

He emerged from the woods to find Garren standing directly before him, eyes afire and hand on his sword. The boy flinched back in alarm, nearly dropping his wood, but the man relaxed immediately to see whom it was entering the camp. Said he quietly, studying the boy with his far too keen eyes, "there's something nearby lad." His eyes fell upon the bloodied cloth wrapping one of the boy's forearms and frowned, "Nightwolf?"

Kyan nodded, "a messenger perhaps, sent only to taunt and intimidate?"

Garren shook his head grimly, "nay lad, they'll have their revenge, albeit a little more slowly than I had imagined. That bite should spell your doom."

The boy shivered, but seeing Ithril watching them from his perch atop a fallen log, Kyan said quietly, "we'd best settled down as if nothing is amiss and talk more when Ithril is asleep."

"Very good," said Garren with a grim smile, "you already have a sensible head on your shoulders. We'll make a fair Messenger out of you yet."

They returned to the makeshift camp and Kyan set his wood beside the merry fire Garren already had going, trying to make as little fuss as possible whilst he attended to his injured arm. Ithril studied the wound with interest, "catch yourself on something while stumbling around after firewood in the dark?"

"Something like that," said Kyan with an ill-suppressed shudder, "it is more dangerous out there than I thought."

Ithril yawned widely and said, "at least we can have some warning should fell things fall upon us, with three we can set a watch without exhausting ourselves."

"An excellent idea that, lad," said Garren with a grin as he handed Ithril a bowl of remarkably good stew.

Ithril smiled, "if ever you must give up the life of a nameless wanderer, you could always make a good living as a cook."

Garren chuckled, "perhaps, but such a quiet life would not be much to my liking me thinks." Added he, "you're quite a hand with a sword yourself, especially after only two lessons."

Ithril shrugged uncomfortably but beamed nonetheless at the man's praise, "thank you sir, I hope I won't disappoint you." They finished their meal, chatted for a time of this and that, before Ithril begged exhaustion and sought his blankets, but urging them to wake him for his turn at the watch. They bid him goodnight and withdrew to the edge of the camp to speak quietly together of the day's happenings and what it might portend for the future. Ithril sleepily watched them wander off before succumbing to the inevitable.

Garren studied the still form of their snoring companion for a moment before asking of Kyan, "is your friend of a suspicious nature?"

Kyan shook his head, "he grew up in a rather dysfunctional family and has recently suffered much personal grief and emotional trauma, I do not know what this sudden freedom from want and fear will do to him or how he will respond to it. He is not overly suspicious but his sudden change in circumstances may bring out things that have hitherto been suppressed or never allowed to grow. I believe he has the makings of a great or terrible man in him, and we can only hope he aspires to the former."

Garren nodded thoughtfully, "he hardly knows who he is, let alone what he wants. This journey is as much about discovering himself as it is about fulfilling his destiny. I only fear that our whispering together may be perceived as conspiratorial by the one we were sent to protect."

"But it could be no other way, could it?" asked the perplexed boy, "We cannot fully protect him unless we do in fact conspire together for his defense; it is a risk we must take."

Garren shook his head and smiled wryly, "you don't need me at all lad." He sobered as he looked upon the boy's injured arm, "I guess you still do."

Kyan studied the wound, "what will come of it?"

Garren said quietly, "were you a mortal man, and just a mortal man, that wound would be the end of you. You would either submit to the fiend's intentions and become a Nightwolf yourself, or in resisting it, you'd die but your mortal shell would still become a monster, one without a mind of its own, controlled by the creature that inflicted the wound. Being of a more curious nature, I believe your mortal flesh will still succumb to the bite, but then you'll be free to make an end of the brute that will thus be birthed."

Kyan stared at him in astonishment, "once I'm forced out of my own flesh I must turn around and destroy it?!"

"That about sums it up," said Garren with a grim smile, "quite ironic, but certainly needful. See, things are quite interesting!"

"I wouldn't mind a little tedium," said Kyan gloomily.

Garren put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "easy lad, there's certainly some point to all of this." His smile deepened, "besides, this will probably mean we can journey on for a month or so before we need fear another attack from the Enemy's minions. By then your friend should be at least an adequate swordsman."

"What about me?" asked Kyan hopefully.

Garren grinned villainously but ruined it with a chuckle, "you'll still be lucky not to accidentally cut your own hand off by then, but I suppose you'll probably just go ahead and stab yourself in the heart and spare us all the trouble."

"Thanks," said Kyan with a laugh, "what would I do without such encouragement?"

"What indeed?" said Garren with his own incorrigible smile.

Garren was correct: they saw neither hide nor hair of any of the Enemy's minions for nearly a month, content as they were to let the current plot come to fruition before attempting anything else. In the meantime, Ithril proved every bit as promising with his sword as Garren had foretold while Kyan managed not to lose any necessary appendages to his own fumbling efforts therewith, due mostly to his own declining physical state. He hid it fairly well from Ithril, but Garren's keen eyes missed nothing as the curse daily gained more of a foothold in the boy's vulnerable mortal flesh.

That fateful day they entered a thronging market town, the biggest outpost of civilization either of the lads had yet beheld. As Ithril glanced around like the wide-eyed tourist he was, Kyan fought simply to remain in his saddle. He exchanged a pained glance with Garren, who nodded slightly, and urged the little company over to the side of the street and dismounted before the afflicted boy fell from his horse. Kyan was barely out of his saddle, hidden from casual view between his own horse and that of Ithril, as Ithril likewise dismounted, when he lost his fight with the horrid wound. He went to his knees, clutching his abdomen in pain, emitting such a howl of fury and agony, that had the horses been anything but phantasms wrought of mist and moonlight, they might well have trampled him in their panic, but being less flighty than real horses, they simply stood there oblivious to the boy's plight.

Ithril however was not near so unwitting and immediately drew his sword and turned towards the source of the unearthly caterwaul, his eyes widening to see some sort of wolfish beast with fiery eyes set to leap upon him. As the pain crescendoed, Kyan felt himself forced from his mortal shell by an alien intelligence full of malice and cruelty that immediately took control of the quickening monster and made to leap upon Ithril, but Kyan was no longer a hapless peasant lad, rather his sword was in his hand, albeit unseen by any mortal eye, and it was the work of only a moment to fell the horrid beast in mid-leap. Ithril too had his sword out and to all mortal eyes, it appeared that his was the blade that slew the fearsome hound and thus was birthed the name and reputation of the legendary knight and hero: Wolfsbane, though his companions knew he only had a month's worth of practice with the weapon for which he was now renowned, for gossip and rumor flew faster than arrows and soon the whole world was singing his praises and flocking to court the favor of such a masterful man.

The monster slain, the Magpie lit on the boy's shoulder, vanishing the next moment, but suddenly Kyan was just a common boy in the street once more, hardly noticed in the excited chaos now surrounding his friend. He exchanged a wondering smile with Garren, who could only shake his head in amusement at the way matters seemed to be playing out for their unwitting charge. But the raven sitting atop an adjacent building was not fooled, not in the least. He eyed them all with derision and flew off with a raucous laugh of triumph, for he knew, even if the imbecilic masses did not, that it was the momentarily overlooked wretch whose destiny it would be his greatest delight to thwart, not the clueless figurehead that even now seemed on the verge of being catapulted into the heady heights of legend and worldwide fame. The fool was merely a distraction from whatever strange destiny his neglected companion was intended, but the Dragon was neither blind nor such a fool; he knew exactly what must be done.

Ithril soon found himself the guest of the best inn in town, the least the proprietor could do for the man that single handedly saved the town from complete and utter destruction, perhaps he should even rename the inn in the man's honor; now there was a grand idea indeed! The wide-eyed boy at last managed to flee to said room and hide from his many and adoring fans, leaning heavily against the oak panels, he sighed in relief, but he could still hear the mob clamoring without in disappointment, but at least respectful of his wish to be alone. Alone?! Where was Kyan and their peculiar companion? Certainly that world-wise fellow would know exactly what to do in just such a circumstance?

Suddenly there came a knock at the door, as if in answer to his thoughts, Ithril hopefully flung wide the door, literally took hold of the two men standing there, and dragged them bodily into the room, securing the door quickly behind them, but not before he heard murmurs of protest from the crowd, wondering how two such boorish fellows could be allowed to disturb the hero in his much deserved repose? As if inspired by Garren and Kyan's boldness, there came another pounding on said door, but Ithril happily ignored it as he slumped into the nearest chair and exhaled in bafflement, "what just happened?"

Garren could not help but chuckle, "it seems you've just become a legend."

"For what?" gasped the boy, sitting up and shaking his head, "For defending my own life? For something that was more accident than true skill?"

Garren shrugged, "people have become legends for less."

Ithril shook his head once more, "and now what? I can't just ride off into the sunset as all the stories have it. These people will certainly have expectations! What if I can't live up to them?"

Garren put a firm, calming hand on the distraught boy's shoulder, "easy lad, you'll do well. Making a name for yourself is the hard part, once it's made, if you keep your wits about you, you will do just fine. Your fame and reputation will attract all sorts of interesting folk hoping to bask in your presence and eager to be part of the further legends you will no doubt make. You'll find warriors, scholars, philosophers, adventurers, and men of wealth and renown, find the best, wisest, and most faithful of these, surround yourself with them as protectors and advisors, and they will well make up for any personal lack thereof. You might never have to touch a sword again!"

"A pity that," said Ithril thoughtfully, he smiled broadly, "for I've grown rather fond of the weapon, but what you say certainly makes sense. What of you, my friends?"

Kyan barked a laugh, "what of us? What use can such a hero have for two ruffians of brief acquaintance?"

"Indeed!" said Ithril, sharing his friend's mirth, "I hope you shall be the foremost of my advisors and companions." Said he quietly, "for the duty shall fall to you to help me remember what and who I truly am. You must keep me humble."

"We are at your service, sir," said Garren with a grandiose bow that totally destroyed the somber mood that had settled upon the newly wrought hero.

Once his mirth was contained, Ithril continued in a lighter mood, "won't this all blow over? Is it not 'much ado about nothing?' Are you not foretelling a future that cannot be?"

Garren shook his head, "nay lad, things have grown too wild for that. Speculation and rumor spread like wildfire once the spark takes; the truth has no place in it, but you are wise to fear for your humility in the days to come, for there are many who will lift you to heights that are dangerous for mortal men to tread and then they will laugh the more when you fall. Choose your companions and advisors carefully and you need never fear such an end."

Ithril shuddered and looked hopefully to his oldest friend, "at least you know me well enough to do what you must."

Kyan replied quietly, far from his usual jovial self, "I will do all I can my friend, but it is up to you in the coming days to heed our warnings."

Ithril smiled wryly, "then shout if you must, but it is your advice I will cherish and heed above all others."

"We can only hope," said Garren to himself, but Kyan's sharp ears also heard him, eliciting a slight chill that ran up his spine and lodged itself in his heart.

Garren had truly foretold what was to come, as rumor spread of the supposed exploits of the Wolfsbane, anyone of wealth, renown, wisdom, or with a simple thirst for adventure, flocked to that now burgeoning market town, hoping to catch at least a glimpse of the now legendary figure. Ithril held court each morning and evening in the common room of that particular inn, well repaying his merry host for his thoughtfulness and generosity. He said little to nothing, but visitor after visitor presented himself before the Wolfsbane, expressing their awe to be in his presence, their hope of aiding him in some way, and then telling endlessly of his own particular qualifications before withdrawing into the seething mass that hung about the boy like flies around a carcass.

Not to be outdone by the innkeeper, various of the town merchants and even a few of the lesser nobles quickly contributed to the boy's wardrobe, purse, and varied possessions, accoutering him as befitted his status of Knight and Hero, until he looked very much the part of a well-to-do warrior and nobly born son. Ithril's head was still spinning as the days passed and so many important and successful folk sought his attention and showered him with gifts and attention. Kyan and Garren did their best to keep the boy's focus on something other than his own importance, but with each passing day, that became more and more difficult, neither did the toadying crowd appreciate that the Hero's closest friends and advisors seemed nothing more than upstart peasants.

Then came the messenger from the King himself. The splendidly clad herald pushed aside all lesser supplicants and boldly approached the Wolfsbane, saying grandly, "Sir, the King greatly desires to make your acquaintance, and should your reputation and character prove half of what rumor holds it to be, gladly will he give you the hand of his daughter, his only child and heir to the crown."

Ithril gaped openly, but quickly snapped his mouth shut and shot to his feet, saying, "then let us not keep the King waiting!" There came a great cheer from his toadies and hangers-on, which drew his attention in their general direction, continued he with a frown, "I certainly can't take all of you with me." His frown deepened, then he shrugged, smiled, and said, "why not! Come along then, if you are able!" The King's herald gaped openly, wondering where this so-called hero planned to house such a rabble, but who was he to gainsay such a man?

As quickly as chaos allowed, the Wolfsbane was in his saddle, this time aback a real horse, yet another lavish gift from a wealthy well-wisher, and all his retinue had gathered around him. Garren and Kyan eased their way to the head of the column, boldly approaching their friend. Ithril frowned at their approach, "and just what do you think you are doing?"

Kyan frowned, "are we not to be off soon? We thought we'd accompany you, just as we did upon the ride hence."

"Certainly not!" said Ithril aghast, much to the approbation of his surrounding worshippers, "How could I allow such common and lackluster fellows amongst my retinue, particularly at the head of the column?"

Kyan's frown deepened, "but you said..." He trailed off as the crowd's disapproval drowned out his words.

Ithril shook his head, "forget what I said, that was a lifetime ago! Do you think I need your companionship or advice when I have a whole host, the least of them far more qualified than a nameless boy from a backwater farm, to advise me? Now be gone and do not further abuse our former relationship by becoming overly familiar with a Hero of my standing, I wish to remember it fondly, but I will blot it from my memory if I must!"

There were more cheers at this, even as Kyan dug in his heels, urging his horse forward that he might stay close to Ithril, despite his protests and the crowd that seemed intent on forever sundering them, but said crowd was not about to let him have his way and bodily blocked his path with their own mounts, a few were even bold enough to jostle the boy himself, eventually sending him tumbling from his saddle beneath the seething mass of men and horses. Ithril watched grimly as his friend was lost beneath the churning mass of his followers, no doubt trampled beneath countless hooves, saying nothing but shaking his head gravely, he raised his hand and ordered the column forward, not even pausing to look back or inquire after what had come of his onetime friend; he had earned whatever fate had befallen him and good riddance.

Garren sat his horse on the far side of the road, having drawn aside when it became obvious the boy would not permit them to ride in their former place at his side. He saw Kyan fall but he could do nothing until the vast company had quitted the now abandoned street. He dismounted and approached the place where the boy, or what was left of his crushed and mangled form, lay. A great raven, perched on a second story window ledge of the adjacent building, croaked in triumph, "so much for destiny!" The vile creature flapped off with a malicious laugh, eliciting a shudder from Garren, who also tried desperately to hide his smile. The Fiend had indeed taken the bait.

Garren placed a firm hand on what he hoped was a ruined shoulder, sending a pulse of azure light into the still form, which gasped, groaned, and then sat up, blinking in wonder and astonishment at the man who had wakened him from death. Garren smiled broadly, offered the lad a hand up, and said quietly as the boy stood, "welcome home lad."

Kyan shook his head in wonder, studied his own unexceptional hands for a moment, and then grinned wryly at his companion, "I don't feel all that different."

Garren chuckled, "not that you should, you're just standing around doing nothing in particular at the moment, a task you can accomplish just as successfully be you mortal man or Messenger, but as you are now well and truly the latter, I suppose we had best be about an adventure befitting our status."

Kyan smiled hopefully, "I don't have to go it alone right away?"

"Certainly not!" said Garren in feigned astonishment, "You'll be in my keeping, an apprentice as it were, until you are deemed ready to go out and start corrupting other susceptible lads yourself."

Kyan nodded but his attention was focused down the road upon which their companion and his company had vanished, "what now?"

Garren shook his head, "your friend must now rise or fall by his own strength, wisdom, and character; we have successfully seen him launched and our presence is no longer needed or desired."

Kyan sighed, "I wish I could know the end of the tale."

Garren snorted, "lad, you can see the beginning and end of every tale hatched between now and the end of time."

Kyan could not help but smile, "in that you are correct my friend, an intriguing idea indeed!" He cocked his head, "had we not best be about our own?"

Garren sighed in mock dismay, "this could be a very long apprenticeship, me thinks." They both suddenly faded into mist and moonlight and left the empty street completely to itself.

Curse of the Black Oak

The girl lay dead beneath the hideous tree, a great thorn like a dagger, wet with blood, glinted in the last gleam of the setting sun as it was swallowed up by the imminent storm, the rising wind howling eerily through the twisted boughs like infernal laughter. The black stem twisted of its own accord, as if in preparation of taking a gigantic step, like a man shifting to pull his leg out of thick mud to take another laborious stride, but the stony ground held the sable roots firm. This time the tree howled, its fury more weird and wild than the baying wind. It turned its attention to the corpse at what had been its feet, at least the slaughtered child could nourish its wrath if it could not gad about the countryside wreaking havoc as had been promised, but even as a black hole opened in the earth to swallow the slain form whole, the girl faded away into mist and moonbeams, leaving the tree to keen its horror and wrath to the indifferent moon, peeking out of the ragged clouds, the storm's fury spent, but the wretched oak's misery and ire only beginning to fester in its dark heart.

He had strayed far closer to the Haunted Wood than ever he intended, for the chase had led him into its very shadow and his arrow had flown even closer, but it was not an arrow he intended to lose, ghosts or not! And there she stood, a vision of beauty in the day's fading light, she held his missing arrow and shook her head gravely in warning, "ware sir!" cautioned she, "Death itself lurks just beyond this point, it is folly to come hither!"

He took the arrow tentatively, far more intrigued by the one who held it than by the long sought shaft, he sighed in exquisite anticipation as its weight settled in his hand, but she vanished at the very same moment. He blinked, glanced about in confusion, shook his head as if to clear the vision from his mind's eye, and scampered back to his horse with all the alacrity of a frightened squirrel, his companions and retainers welcoming him back in relief before they all hied themselves home, lest night trap them in that fell vale, perhaps forever.

But the Prince could not get the girl out of his head, though he tried desperately, every trick or distraction he or his dearest companion could contrive, but nothing availed. "There's nothing for it," said he at last, "she must come to the Ball!"

"Tonight?!" said Bayard in wondering horror.

The Prince smiled impishly, "that or I'll go mad, get your horse, we have a bit of riding to do lest we be late for my father's party, which would never do, not in the least!"

"At least in losing our heads thereby," smiled Bayard grimly, like a man facing the gallows, "you'd get that impertinent and tenacious vision out of your head permanently."

"Nay my friend," laughed the Prince, "the vision would remain, but it would be the head containing it that would be lost!"

"Either would be a relief," grinned Bayard, as they jogged off to the stables to fetch their horses, both eager for an adventure, even be it their last.

"Here's where I saw her," said the Prince, their horses tossing their heads and whinnying anxiously on the very brink of that Grim Wood.

"I hope you aren't planning on venturing thither in search of her?" asked Bayard uneasily of his friend.

"Why not?" came Tyne's unanticipated voice, the Prince's sour-tempered cousin, "Afraid are we?"

"Just not suicidal," said Bayard grimly, "but that is not my decision to make, Sire?"

Said the Prince a little anxiously, "perhaps we can just ride the perimeter of this Cursed Wood. Why don't you gentlemen go left and I'll go right and we'll meet on the far side?" His eyes narrowed and he asked of his cousin, "what are you doing here?"

"I smelled an intrigue," snapped the boy, "and wouldn't be left behind, especially lingering in the looming shadow of such a tedious affair as my uncle's Ball."

"Bayard knows what we are after," sighed the Prince, "I'll see you on the far side." He turned his horse and spurred quickly away, the horse eager to run, even if it meant paralleling that unsettling thicket, but Tyne had other ideas, for he immediately dismounted and plunged into the eerie copse.

"Tyne?!" said Bayard in near panic, "What are you doing?"

"I'm not such a coward," sneered the boy, "there's something in here and I'm going to find out what! Skirt the perimeter indeed!"

"Wait!" cried Bayard desperately, "At least let me come with you, no man should venture in there alone and what would your family think did I allow it!" He slid from his own saddle and followed the bold boy into the glowering shadows beneath the eldritch trees. They said nothing as they walked the pathless wood, drawn inexorably to some terrible power at its heart, amid the black stems of ancient trees and a murky mist, but nothing else, for nothing grew or lived in that terrible place but those dreadful, twisted trees. They ascended a stony hill and found at its peak an immense black oak, awful with age. Quivered Bayard in absolute dread, "here is Death itself, let us flee therefrom!"

"No," whispered Tyne in reverent awe, as if approaching the altar of some minor god, "here is Power!"

The tree moved, sending a shudder up both mortal spines, but lighting a dreadful smile on Tyne's face and a grimace of horror upon Bayard's. Tyne's cruel glee deepened, he nodded as if in agreement to some fell bargain he alone knew the details of, and the tree struck. Fast as a striking snake, Bayard was clutched in one thorny branch while another thrust itself deep into his abdomen, he didn't even have time to scream before he fell into darkness, limp as a dead fish. Said Tyne to the tree, whose voice he could still hear in his mind, "I'll deliver him to the Ball tonight and then we shall both have our revenge!" The dead leaves rattled in horrid laughter as Tyne began dragging the insensible form back towards the edge of the Wood, thankfully it wasn't a long walk, villainy was far more work than he had imagined!

"Where have you been?" demanded the Prince in concern, as he rode up to find Tyne helping the dazed Bayard aback his horse.

"He fell off," laughed Tyne scornfully, "what of your errand?"

The Prince was about to shake his head sadly and say he had failed utterly, when his waking eyes fell upon the vision that had haunted him for so long, said he in hope, "milady?!"

"You have something you would ask of me?" said she quietly, but her eyes were focused upon the confounded Bayard, full of pity and grief, but the boy only gazed blankly through his horse's neck, unseeing at the ground beneath its hooves.

"Yes," said the Prince, eyeing his friend a tad jealously, but her attention was suddenly upon himself and nothing else mattered, "would you come to the Royal Ball with me tonight?"

"As long as we go merely as friends," said she, "for we can be never be anything but!" He glanced suspiciously at his friend, but she added sternly, "it is the same for all men, sir, I am merely concerned for your companion's health and safety, accidents near this accursed glade can be terrible things indeed!"

"Very well," said the Prince, "though it is quite unfair to such a fickle creature as a mortal Prince."

"Indeed," said she sadly, but all joy coursed just beneath, "but it is as it must be and neither of us have any say in the matter. But come, we should get your friend to a place he might rest." With that sensible notion, they were all in their saddles and cantering off, the lady astride a horse as marvelous and lovely as herself. As they trotted into the castle proper, a bevy of anxious servants and menials hastened off with the Prince and royal cousin, to ready them for the night's festivities, for they had nearly despaired of the gala with the sudden vanishment of the royal young men.

Bayard and the lady were left to fend for themselves, nonentities as they were. Bayard shook his head again, as if trying to awaken from a dreadful dream, but his faculties had started to revive upon the ride back, though he had no idea what had happened to him, at least he had presence of mind enough to get off his horse and see to the lady's comfort. But no sooner had they drawn aside than the courtyard was filled with people and pomp and confusion as a regal party rode in and demanded every courtesy and attention. Translated Bayard for the gaping lady, "a foreign Princess and her entourage have just arrived for the infamous Ball." They traipsed companionably into the palace to find a quiet place to rest and speak at length.

Smiled the girl impishly as they left the chaos in the courtyard, "it is a very good thing I informed your friend that his invitation to this famous gala be of the most platonic sort."

"Not that he'll listen," sighed Bayard heavily, "when he gets the bit in his teeth, he isn't likely to surrender it. His father insists he marry the Princess without, but he's thought nothing of you for a fortnight since your meeting."

She frowned pensively at him, "but he agreed! And it cannot be otherwise!"

"Even so," smiled Bayard wistfully, "he'll persist until it is proven quite impossible to the contrary."

"That will be easy enough," said she thoughtfully, as he opened the door of a little sitting room and ushered her in.

"We can sit here comfortably until this evening when the chaos ensues," said he, "shall I order tea?"

"No, but thank you," said she, seating herself, "but we must talk." As he took his own chair she asked, "what happened to you in the Wood?"

He shook his head, "I know not. I blacked out and the next thing I knew was Tyne standing over me with a gloating look of triumph on his face and then him chivying me into my saddle." He sighed and glanced uneasily at his abdomen, saying anxiously, "though I fear my stomach has been bothering me since then."

"May I look?" queried she, but ignoring his surprise at such an uncanny request, she gently pushed his protective hand away and lifted the ragged fabric of his tunic to reveal a black, knobby wound with spidery, ebony tendrils shooting out from it like the veins in a leaf. She frowned at him, "did you venture into the Wood's Heart?"

Bayard shuddered, "Tyne was intent on going, I could not let him go alone..."

"And you awoke to think you had fallen from your horse," finished she sadly, "you have doomed yourself, if not your Kingdom."

He stared at her in horror, "what is this Wood, what lurks at its heart, what is your part in it all?"

Her sad, keen eyes met his terrified gaze, as she said quietly, "there is an ancient and evil tree at the very heart of that little wood, though once it was a man. Ever it seeks to spread its evil and influence over the face of the whole world and it is my duty, at least in part, to see that that does not happen."

He frowned slightly at her in perplexity, "that is only part of your duties or such a duty is only partially yours?"

"Both," said she, her eyes straying back to his wounded flank, "but come, we must deal with the present crisis."

"What is it?" asked he plaintively.

"That grim tree has planted one of its vile acorns in your very flesh," said she with a shudder, "they will only grow in such wretched soil. It will consume your very being and unleash another monster upon the earth."

"Unleash?" asked he, "But the great tree cannot stir from its place?"

"No," said she, "it was forbidden at the very beginning of its existence, but if ever a sapling should successfully spring forth, the miserable creature could move about of its own accord wherever it pleases, destroying as it goes. It must be unmade before it is too late."

"No!" cried Bayard, flinching back in terror from her glowing hand, "There must be some other cure?"

"No," said she with a sad shake of her head, "you are a dead man, though you still walk the earth."

"Very well," sighed he heavily, "but may I first speak with the Prince, for it was his cousin that hatched this plot and who knows what else he his planning for the Kingdom?"

"I would advise that we end this threat immediately," said she, "that its evil not be allowed to flourish in the least, but what you say is also needful, if dangerous."

"As is leaving the Prince unaware of this threat," countered Bayard.

"To one Kingdom of men, yes," said she, "but the menace incubating in your own flesh is a threat to all mankind!"

"We'll make it quick then," sighed he wretchedly, but adding with a grim smile, "at least I don't have to go to the Ball!"

"There is that I suppose," said she with a wryly quirked smile, "now where can we find your friend?"

Bayard shook his head, "he's likely in the fell grasp of a horde of servants preparing him for the Ball, we'll never get near him, let alone being able to speak with him privately."

"By then it will be too late," said she, "could you write him a letter instead?"

"That will have to do, and happily the Library isn't far," said he, gaining his feet and making for the door, as she followed. He quickly penned his missive and gave it into her keeping, adding as he set forth anew, "how about a stroll in the gardens?"

"And there let it be ended," said she, grim and quiet as death, "for such a sentiment betrays how little time you have left." He nodded gravely and led the way, but no sooner had he set a foot firmly upon the grass than it seemed to be quite literally rooted to the earth.

"What is happening?!" screamed he.

"My dreams are coming true!" chortled Tyne, pushing the girl aside and gazing triumphantly upon the rather bushy Bayard, who looked like a small boy hiding in a clump of saplings, peeping out to see if anyone had yet found him. The villain produced a small knife and cut one of the foremost branches, before dashing off to hide his prize before the royal grooming staff could again corner him.

"Easy," said Kaya, approaching the panicked Bayard, nearly lost in a writhing thicket of young branches, "I will deal with him, but your duty is now to end this menace to not only your Kingdom but to all humanity?" He nodded wretchedly and she placed a glowing hand on what had been his chest but was now the rough-barked trunk of a young oak. A light consumed the entire sapling, and when it receded, rather than a gnarled and feral oak, rather a blooming plum, resplendent in bridal white, had taken its place, but of Bayard, there was no sign. She sighed heavily and withdrew her hand, wondering what to do about the young villain who had made off with so dangerous a prize.

"We must find Tyne and his branch," said a familiar voice, though she stood alone in the gardens with a wonderful but typically silent tree.

"Concentrate," said she eagerly, and there he stood, as he had but a moment before, save the terror and horror had been replaced by curiosity and an inexplicable joy, and half his person was not composed of woody components, rather his whole form was wrought of a strange glowing mist, radiant as the plum blossoms in the sunshine. She shook her head in wonder but smiled gloriously, adding, "not quite, but close!" He gasped upon glimpsing his own form and abashedly swathed himself in normality, as she said with a laugh, "much better! Now let's go catch a villain."

He offered her his arm and beamed, though happily not in a literal sense, "I thought you would never ask." Together they returned to the palace proper to see what could be done about the pilfered branch and the villain's unquickened schemes, as they walked, he asked, "now what is this really about?" She only smiled at him, like glorious day over a land that has ever only known disquiet night.

They had not gone far when their quarry found them, snarled Tyne without the least attempt at politeness, even in the presence of a lady, "we need to talk!" He stalked off, assuming their cooperation, which they were not lax in bestowing, though they did exchange an intrigued smile as they followed like ducklings in his wake. They found themselves in a forgotten banquet room, wherein Tyne stalked up and down like some caged beast, muttering to himself and tossing an occasional glare in their direction. Bayard made sure the door was shut firmly behind them, ere the beast attacked.

"What have you done?!" snarled Tyne, raising the tattered fragments of what had been a fine and expensive sleeve to reveal the angry red scratches beneath.

Bayard frowned, "I do not understand?"

"Don't play the innocent with me!" scorned Tyne in equal parts fury and fear, "You have had your revenge for my little joke but I do not find it funny, not in the least!"

"He scratched himself," said Kaya solemnly, "when he stole that accursed branch, the thorns did not leave him unscathed."

"And what is to come of it?" scowled Tyne, "Already I feel feverish and weak!" His eyes narrowed as he glowered at Bayard, "and what of you? This is not what I had anticipated, not in the least!"

Bayard grinned impishly and looked towards his overly grave companion, "I know as little as you, save she has somehow thwarted your schemes, whatever they be." Asked he stonily, "what happened in that little Wood?"

Tyne shrugged indifferently, "I heard a terrible voice in my mind, that dreadful tree can speak! It said it could assure me all the power I could desire, not just in this pathetic little realm, but throughout the whole world besides! It said all I need do was bring you back here and let matters play out as they would and if I would have revenge upon certain specific persons, it said to snatch a thorny branch from the resulting sapling and lash out with it as I would." He stared gloomily at his own burning arm, "I did not intend to scratch myself!"

"How could you not?" asked Kaya grimly, "In attempting to harvest such a thorny branch, save for thick gloves, you would undoubtedly scratch yourself likewise! That horrid tree intended your own downfall along with that of all men, knowing that in your lust for power you would doom yourself."

"Doom myself?!" creaked Tyne, like a dead branch in a bitter wind.

"All the wretched trees of that bitter Wood," said she quietly, chill as a winter night, "were likewise greedy men blindly cursed in their lust after power."

"Were," shuddered Tyne, "are they not merely enspelled, and will one day be set free?"

She shook her head gravely, "they are merely trees, the men they once were are long dead."

"But that terrible oak is a sentient creature," protested Tyne, "so too was that wretched sapling supposed to be! There must be hope, there must!"

"Only the hope of our Master," said she, bright and quiet as a frozen pond beneath a swiftly rising sun, "there came no rescue for our mortal selves, as you too are now doomed to leave behind, but that is not to say there are not Greater Things beyond, as we stand here as witnesses thereto."

"What?!" cried Tyne in dismay, "You are saying that fool has not found a way to cheat his rightful doom?"

Kaya shook her head sadly, "nor did I. It was my blood that fueled my father's black sorcery, the terrible curse that produced that dreadful oak at the first, but the Master saw that its evil was not unleashed upon all creation, but rather set restrictions upon the accursed thing that only those who sought it out willingly might fall afoul of its misery and cruelty."

Bayard frowned slightly, "you are saying he will become just another wretched tree in that Haunted Grove?" She nodded and he continued, "and that a sentient tree, capable of free movement, was about to be spawned from that dreadful acorn?"

"Yes," said she, "a scratch from a thorn of any of the dread creatures will eventually render a man into a mindless but wretched tree, growing up around their progenitor as a miserable and sad little forest of utterly forsaken children. Whereas the implantation of a black acorn into the body of a living man will allow the production of another such horror, one free to move about of its own accord and spread the curse where and as it will, until the whole world is covered in such a terrible Wood."

"The branch I stole," began Tyne miserably.

"Can be used to inflict such misery endlessly upon the world of unwitting men," finished Kaya.

"You'll never find it," snarled he, "let it be my revenge upon the very injustice of this whole debacle!"

"Come," said she, "this is no longer your place."

"I know," sulked the boy wretchedly, "it is the last thing I want to do, but I find myself unable to disoblige the feeling. Take me home, as you must."

"But there is still hope beyond all this," protested Bayard, "do not die in despair!"

"I need not your wretched master or his so-called mercy," spat Tyne, "let me die in peace!"

Bayard bowed his head grimly, but took one of Tyne's quickly stiffening arms as Kaya took the other. That wondrous light consumed them, immediately giving place to that Dread Wood amid a gloomy twilight. "Here let me die," grated Tyne miserably, his form becoming more and more gaunt and twisted. He scorned them, "I will tell you nothing of the hidden branch nor seek your precious master..." His words trailed off like a dying wind, as a withered and wretched tree now stood where once the boy had been.

Bayard sighed heavily and the girl wept openly, "alas for such an end!"

"Come, milady," said Bayard, proffering his arm, "you yet have your duty to be about." She smiled at him, sad and curious, her perplexed look eliciting a bright laugh on his part, "did you not promise the Prince a dance of the most platonic sort?" She smiled wanly at him, but took his arm as that light again stirred, leaving the silent and brooding Wood to its own immortal misery.

The evening mist was creeping about the garden paths, when that beneath the ever-blooming plum tree began to glow with an eerie light, resolving itself into two elegantly clad individuals, as if the pair of partygoers had merely strayed into the pleasant enclosure for a breath of fresh air and a glimpse of the stars. Exchanging a bright smile, they returned to the great hall wherein all was alive with movement and music and the tumult of many voices, like the roar of a mighty water.

They watched the activities for a time, focusing mainly on the Prince, who seemed enraptured by the foreign Princess, but also watched the other guests to see if aught remained of the poor boy's plots, but nothing more suspicious than the usual intrigues of such a function assaulted them, at which Bayard could but grin wistfully, knowing such a life was no longer his own, but little knowing what his new life now entailed.

At last the Prince paused in his exertions and he and his lady withdrew to the side to rest and refresh themselves. Bayard met them at the punch table, Kaya beside him. They exchanged the necessary courtesies and introductions soon followed. Smiled the Prince exuberantly at his old friend, "I hope you have been entertaining our guest in the most platonically satisfying manner possible?"

"Certainly," smiled Bayard, waxing wistful indeed, "she has been the one intriguing me all the evening, almost as much as your partner has bewitched you!"

"I am quite thoroughly delighted," sighed the Prince in near ecstasy, "and I can only hope you two can find equal happiness."

"We have, Sire," said Kaya with a bright smile and what might be a veritable twinkle in her joyous eyes, "though not in the company of one another as some might suppose."

The Prince snorted wryly, "be that as it may, I am glad to hear it, how ever you've contrived to explain it to yourselves." He exchanged an enchanted smile with his lady and said in farewell, "I'm afraid the next set is beginning, my friends, and we must do our part! Farewell!"

"Goodbye, my friend," said Bayard quietly, as he and Kaya withdrew from the festivities and into the abandoned gardens. "Are we not to find that branch?" queried Bayard anxiously.

Kaya shook her head, "that adventure is not ours, at least not at this particular moment. We've done here all we must, now we must begin the next quest that is set us." She smiled at him archly and said, "you did wish to discover exactly what it was you have become embroiled in, did you not?" He smiled wistfully back towards the only life he had ever known, but then eagerly took her arm, and smiling in hopeful wonder, that light consumed them utterly.

The King never did discover what ever came of his friend, the mysterious lady, or his cousin, but he hoped they had all lived happily ever after, as had been his wont for a long and happy reign. Thinking back, he felt all the finality in that last farewell as they parted to rejoin the dance, but now his own children were of an age with himself when he had endured that strange adventure, and he wondered what their own escapades would be at such a wild and wonderful stage of life.

Kipril sat beneath the inexplicable plum tree in the gardens, the one that had appeared the day of the infamous Ball whereat his parents had met and which never ceased to bloom, even in the dead of winter. His young heart was uneasy, for he had stumbled upon a secret early that morning and loath was he to be possessed of such, but what could be done in the matter? Who would believe him? How could he let such a quest pass unheeded, as if he could just forget he had ever stumbled upon it? He sighed heavily and stared at the withered branch again, a hasty note on a scrap of aged paper still stuck to its thorns, reading simply, 'the possessor of this branch holds power indeed.'

"What have you there, lad?" came the familiar voice.

The boy jumped slightly, startled out of his introspection, as he turned to eye the intruder with his troubled gaze, said the Prince quietly, "I don't know."

"May I?" asked Bayard, seating himself beside the boy and offering to take the thorny, twisted branch.

The boy handed it over with a shudder, but seemed much more at ease in being relieved of his dread burden, "what is it?" queried he.

"An accursed thing," said Bayard quietly, "one that has spelled only doom to all those unfortunate enough to have encountered it."

"Who are you?" asked the boy after a long and thoughtful silence, "What is your part in all this tale?"

"Have you not known me from your earliest memories of this garden?" queried the perplexing man.

"Yes," said the boy, "but that does not tell me who you are, only that I have known of you for my whole life, though I cannot say I know aught of you."

"Very good lad," grinned Bayard proudly, as the boy made ready to spring headlong into the pool of manhood, abandoning the brook of childhood. As he spoke, he stood and leaned into the flowering plum, somehow attaching the withered oaken branch to the spritely plum, grafting it in that the whole was soon a-flower itself, lost among the merry branches as another such itself, not noticing the ebony acorn that still hung amongst the snowy petals.

"Why don't you ever appear when anyone else is about?" persisted the boy, no little astonished by the strange feat.

"Because someone else might recognize me or wonder that you were talking to so insignificant a personage," retorted Bayard with an arch grin.

"Will you not reveal yourself, enigma?!" protested the poor boy in exasperation.

Bayard resumed his seat upon the bench beside the overwrought boy, saying quietly, "I was once your father's dearest friend, but I had to quit his company, for duty called me elsewhere."

The boy glanced about at the quiet, sunny garden and laughed outright, "what of duty can you find here?"

Bayard smiled wryly, "little enough I suppose, but it is not as if that is all I have done with myself these past two decades! I've enough to keep me busy elsewhere, but one of my many duties is occasionally seeing how things progress with the King and his family."

"Why?" frowned the boy.

Bayard shuddered slightly, "for when we were boys, just your age, we fell into an adventure that changed everything. The secret lies deep within the Haunted Wood, and a terrible burden it is, too great and dreadful for a mortal heart to bear, but one of my tasks is to help keep that terror from being loosed upon the world of men. That branch was the last piece of the tale, now perhaps we can set it aside like a book we have at last finished and you may go your way in peace."

"But I don't want to lay it aside," protested the boy, "as uncanny and unsettling as it is, I want to know more of the tale!"

Bayard shook his head sadly, "I am forbidden from imparting more, lad."

"Must I venture into the heart of the Wood to find out for myself?" said the boy defiantly.

Bayard said gravely, "that is folly indeed! There dwells death itself! Neither does your father know aught of this matter, so asking him will avail you nothing."

"But!" began the boy.

Bayard said sternly, "forget it, lad! Move on and enjoy all that life has to offer, that way lies only sorrow." The boy had turned away in anger, but when he turned to answer, the man was gone. Shaking his head in wonder, he left his seat and pensively paced those tame paths, lost in thought, not noticing his younger brother hiding in the shrubs behind the bench, smiling thoughtfully himself, nor had he failed to notice that strangely enticing acorn amidst the bridal splendor of that peculiar tree. He snatched the forbidden nut and hastened off lest his brother discover his budding treachery, but the young Prince noticed nothing but his own disquiet thoughts. His first stop would be the Library to determine if there were any extant records of the incident, and if so, of what use they might be to himself.

"A journal or record?" asked one of the palace librarian's many assistants, "I suppose there might be such a thing," mused the ancient man, "but no one has had time to study that particular period yet, indeed, we are still researching the wars and histories of your great great great grandfather's time! But the pertinent journals and records would be found on that shelf over there," finished the dusty man as he returned to his dusting, "feel free to peruse them yourself, unless you wish to leave the quest to your great great great grandchildren!"

The boy dashed to the indicated shelf and began digging, wondering if he wouldn't be a thrice great grandfather before he discovered the relevant history, if there was one, but after hours of digging, at last he found a brief account of the mysteriously vanished royal cousin, the last known thing he had ever written, giving evidence of the burgeoning madness that had seemingly precipitated his vanishment. Of the so-called royal friend and companion, he could find no record at all. Finally he resolved to ask his father. The King, always happy to speak with his children, was very puzzled by the boy's interest in such a seemingly forgotten topic.

"Yes," mused the King, "those were strange days! My cousin just vanished, as did my dearest friend and his lady. I had hoped they ran away to live happily ever after and thought little of my cousin's fate, we were not very friendly, he and I! But yes, we did venture to the very edge of the Haunted Wood, we rode the perimeter, but poor Bayard fell from his horse and banged his head, forcing us to return early. Did you know I met your mother that very day..."

Curious, very curious, mused the boy as his father rambled on. He allowed his father to finish reliving those strange days before courteously excusing himself to mull over the brief writings of the vanished Tyne, who had written that they had truly ventured into the heart of those Woods, and found there a terror indeed, but one willing to grant power to those bold enough to accept it. The unfortunate royal friend being no such person, he was sacrificed for greater things, his person becoming the incubator for what could only be the ultimate weapon! But what had come of the villain and the victim both? He had watched the strange man suddenly vanish, though his brother had missed it entirely, but what did it mean? He shuddered, knowing he might find an answer in the heart of that dismal Wood, but knowing it was folly even to consider such an excursion. He felt the acorn in his pocket and smiled cruelly, but there were other ways to discover the secret and gain power too.

"Don't do this lad!" pled Bayard, appearing suddenly in the musty tower wherein the boy had secreted himself with his now senseless brother, whom he had convinced to accompany him to this abandoned place and then hit upside the head with a convenient brick.

"Tell me the truth," demanded the boy, a dagger in one hand and that grim acorn in the other.

"Very well," said the grim eyed man, "you are about to unleash a monster that will destroy everything you hope to usurp, including yourself! None can control such a creature, rather it will destroy the world of men." Here his person began to glow menacingly, as he added, "and I am bidden to stop such an incursion by any means necessary!"

"Who are you?" demanded the boy.

"You have studied what you can of the available history of those days?" queried Bayard. At the boy's nod, he continued, "I am truly the vanished friend. Your father's cousin did to me what you intend with your brother. The villainous cousin was himself destroyed in the chaos he intended to unleash while I was unmade, let our fates be a warning to any who would meddle thus!"

The boy smiled maliciously, "you'd best stop me then!"

Bayard sighed heavily and replied, "I cannot act until you do, and then is your doom assured!"

"I'm willing to risk it," taunted the boy, stabbing his brother in the stomach and pushing the acorn into the resulting wound.

"Very well," said Bayard, grim as death, "I shall send you into the Wood you wished to loose upon the unwitting world!" The boy vanished with a scream, cut short by his sudden disappearance, leaving Bayard alone with the stricken Prince, who roused suddenly at his brother's distressed cry.

The Prince blinked blearily at the grim face looking into his own, saying wanly, "please tell me you have reconsidered, that I may yet have my part in your tale?"

"You have no other choice, lad," said Bayard sadly, raising a glowing hand, but all joy lurked just beneath the surface, the boy's face alight with his own, they vanished together from that place.

"Where are we?" said Kipril with a pensive frown, "This wasn't exactly what I expected when you did...what did you do to me?"

Bayard grinned, "merely unmade you, what else?"

"Unmade?!" gasped the boy, hastening his step to keep apace of the eager strides of his companion.

Bayard shrugged, "it was my fate as well, but there are greater things beyond life than death." He added grimly, "though that is a vile swamp through which our Master Himself must soon slog."

"Death, Him?!" said the boy in astonishment, "What can He have to do with that wretched concept?"

Bayard stopped suddenly and turned to face the boy, his face grim and set, but that ever present joy still visible beneath the stony façade, said he quietly, "Who else could pay the debt each of us owes for the evils we have done in our lives? Death is the fate of every mortal creature, but it is only the beginning of Justice's demands upon our wretched souls! Long ago He promised to come Himself, to pay the debt He did not owe to spare the souls of those who could not save themselves. He will settle the debt we owe Justice, and in His death we will find Life indeed." He sighed heavily, "even now He walks the world in mortal guise, the very Creator a mere piece within His own creation! And it is we who are to provide the means of His impending demise."

"What?!" said Kipril in astonishment, "We are to have a hand in it?"

Bayard shook his head grimly, "it will spare many mortal lives that would otherwise be forfeit and likewise free the world from another deadly scourge."

"The Black Oak," whispered the boy.

"Even so," nodded Bayard, beginning their journey anew. They had not gone far when they stood upon the edge of that evil thicket, a mass of trembling workmen and quivering laborers gathered there, arguing with Kaya about entering the Wood, but not very strenuously, more terrified of their sovereign than of old myths and the eerie feeling surrounding the place.

"Stay here," said Bayard to the gathered crowd, "we'll fetch that grim tree for you."

"Thank you, sir!" said the foreman in astonishment, "Thank you indeed! We'll protect the damsel until your return."

"I appreciate it," smiled Bayard archly, winking at Kaya as the astonished princeling followed dumbfounded in his wake. They wound their way through the grim Wood, the black and twisted trees silent in their passing, at last they ascended a stony hill and found the horrid tree crowning the crest. It lashed at them with its thorny arms while its terrifying laughter echoed in their minds, neither doing any damage to the violators of that desecrated hilltop or even intimidating the pair, though the erstwhile Prince was momentarily fazed, but as the flailing branches passed harmlessly through him, he exchanged a grim smile with his companion, as Bayard said grimly, "the time of your menace is ended, Tree! Repent if you will, but no more will you trouble the mortal earth!" The thing laughed all the more in their minds as Bayard placed a glowing hand upon the trunk, twisted and grotesque. When the light receded, the hideous monster was gone, leaving a ghastly pole in its place.

Sighed Bayard heavily, "let us get this horrid device to the workmen, that we might speed this tale to its brutal close." Each took up an end, their uncanny strength making it an easy task, and beginning the journey back to where the laborers uneasily waited, but as a groan of utter misery met their ears, Kipril dropped his burden and hastened to the side of his stricken brother.

"Him!" panted the anguished youth, "How can you be in collusion with him? He's the one that did this to me!"

Kipril eyed Bayard in concern, "is this true?"

Bayard replied quietly, "it was I that sent him thus, but it was he that acted treacherously and had been warned not to do just that."

"But do I deserve such an end?" panted the boy wretchedly.

"Did your brother?" asked Bayard stonily, "For is it not the very end to which you tried to put him?"

"No!" cried Kipril in dismay, turning pleading eyes upon Bayard, who nodded grimly while the anguished boy laughed cruelly in agreement.

"Have you any wish to make peace with the Master?" asked Bayard gently of the dying youth, a dozen branches already springing from his shoulders and chest. The boy cursed him and the Master both, and with a sigh and a glowing hand, the wretched youth was consumed utterly by that dreadful light. Said Bayard in benediction, "so does that curse pass forever from the earth, come, we have our own dreadful quest yet to accomplish." They exchanged a grim look and returned to their momentarily forgotten burden, bearing it out of the formerly haunted wood and giving it into the keeping of those sent to fetch it.

"Thank you sir, thank you indeed!" said the foremost workman, "I was sure this task was as much as our lives were worth!"

"Quite," said Bayard, "might we accompany you back to your master?"

"Not a word about our misgivings?" asked the foreman anxiously.

"None at all," agreed he grimly, "milady?"

"Of course," sighed she, taking his arm and exchanging a grim look with her comrades, as the whole company set off.

Said the foreman amiably as they walked along beside the great wagon that now bore the ebony pole, "they've quite a grand idea for this accursed thing, some political prisoner that's so embarrassed all the powers-that-be that they're determined to make a grand and final end of the poor fellow, who's never done anything but succor the poor and challenge the so-called right of one man to oppress another, even be he a king!"

"It will be a dreadful tale ere all is told," said Bayard quietly, "but each must go as it is Written of him, especially Him." The fellow gave him a very odd look, but shrugged and contentedly continued on his way in pensive silence. Finally, they came to the place prescribed and the laborers set to work with a will, digging a deep hole in which to set the great pole and firmly ensconcing it therein.

"Well, our work is done," said the foreman cheerily, "I've already sent a man to inform the King. He'll do the rest." He tipped his hat to the lady, gathered up his men, and off they hied themselves. The three withdrew slightly into the curious bystanders who had already gathered upon the mere rumor that something dreadfully spectacular was in the works. Not long thereafter, a large party of guards and even more gawkers arrived to prepare for the coming spectacle.

At last, the condemned arrived in company with even more guards and spectators, so battered and bruised He could barely mount the hill on which they planned to impale Him. And so the grisly business was accomplished, the whole of creation seeming to groan in agony and grief as He met His end, the sky growing black, the earth quaking, and the wind howling like a fiend possessed.

"Might I give Him a proper burial?" queried Bayard of the Captain of the Guard.

The man looked rather uneasy, never having received orders pertaining to the matter, most such malefactors were just left to rot, but seeing the weeping woman and teary eyed boy accompanying the bold youth, something touched his usually callous heart, and he replied in a whisper, "wait until these gawkers have dispersed and the guard is ordered home, under cover of night, whatever comes of the corpse is of no matter to me." Bayard bowed his head in solemn acceptance, gathered up his companions, and silently withdrew.

The unnatural darkness lingered over the land until the more usual gloom of a cloudy twilight crept over the stricken hilltop. Convinced the wretch was well and truly dead and that no greater misery or spectacle could be wrung out of the affair, the spectators drifted home while the Captain gathered up his guards and marched back to the King. They waited another full hour but nothing stirred upon that forsaken ridge but a fitful wind. Their uncanny vision and strength made the task easy, if grievous to their breaking hearts, but soon enough they had retrieved the broken body and wrapped it in a burial shroud, but now what?

The sound of wretched weeping smote Bayard's keen ears; he exchanged a curious glance with his companions and they nodded their agreement. They descended the hill and circled towards the back, where a broken cliff rose above their heads at a sheer angle and into its crumbling stone had been carved a tomb, standing empty and waiting, like the mouth of death. Into that grim maw did they bear their burden, laying their slain Master upon the stony bed meant for another. Their intrusion interrupted the weeping man, who lay huddled in a corner, as if he despaired of all hope, but then Hope itself has been slain that very day.

He rose to his knees, squinting in the darkness but seeing little, he slumped back to the stony floor and asked morosely, "who are you, what is your business here?"

"We have come to bury the dead," said Kaya quietly.

Upon hearing a woman's voice, he shot to his feet and demanded desperately, "whom?"

"He Who never needed to know death," said Bayard gravely, "but for our sakes was willing to suffer even that."

"I denied Him," wept the wretched creature anew, "He said I would, and I did! So afraid for my own wretched life that I cared nothing for His! Oh, that I had died instead! This existence cannot be borne, death would be far better!"

"Be at Peace," said a new voice, entering the lightless tomb but bearing such a presence of peace and solemnity in its wake that they could not help but obey, "the Night will be interminable, but soon Dawn will come and we need weep no more, indeed, we shall verily shout for Joy!"

"But..." began the miserable man, but the newcomer persisted, "There are no buts, dwell no more in your wretchedness, seek His forgiveness and likewise forgive yourself! Much will be asked of you in days to come, you cannot be about His business in such a miserable state."

The man gaped openly at this stranger, but his weeping suddenly subsided, his mouth snapped shut with an audible click, and a thoughtful light entered his eyes. Bayard nodded to Kipril, who said quietly, "come, my friend, this is no place for weary and sorrowful hearts, gladly would I walk with you under that stars, in silence if you prefer or speaking of what you would?"

"Thank you," said the man sadly, but not in despair, as he led the way out of that place of death and accompanied the boy into the wide world, relatively bright under the stars.

"This will very soon be a dangerous place," cautioned the newcomer, as plain a man as might be seen anywhere.

"We will stay," said Bayard quietly, as Kaya seated herself at the foot of the body even as the stranger sat at the head.

"It is not of soldiers or arrest that I speak," persisted the strange man, "but very soon things will be revealed that no mortal eye can behold!"

"We understand," replied Bayard.

"What is your part in this tale?" queried the other.

As Kaya sobbed anew, the boy replied grimly, "we fetched the tree upon which He was hanged."

"And yet you would see to His burial?" mused the other, "And defy my warnings? Are you some agent of the King or one of the many factions in this unsettled land, determined to see that Prophecy does not fulfill itself or that His followers do not make off with the body and spread the tale that He has risen again, as He has promised?"

"And who are you?" replied Bayard gravely, "What is your part in this?"

"You will soon see," said the other brightly, "at least for a moment if you insist on remaining, after that I fear you will be quite undone! Flee now, oh man, whilst you still might! No good can come of whatever you intend, for Prophecy cannot be thwarted, you can only destroy yourself thereby!"

"I appreciate your concern," said Bayard, "but I have my orders."

The seeming man shook his head gravely and said, "are they worth your life?"

"It is my life that is unworthy of my orders, but even so, I am bidden thus," said he enigmatically.

The other did not reply, save to glance out at the slowly fading night, and saying with all eagerness, but tinged with dread for his companions, "flee now if you would save your lives, but perhaps the coming spectacle will be well worth the loss thereof! Could I taste of death, that would be the end of my choosing! Perhaps you are wise indeed to stay!"

Bayard blinked in surprise, "you will never die?"

"No," said the man that was not a man, "my kind are neither born nor do we die, as is the lot of mortal men." Added he solemnly, "this is your last chance to flee, I must seal the tomb lest anyone without inadvertently glimpse things they must not." The pair nodded their understanding as he motioned with his hand and the great stone door crashed ominously into place, sealing them within.

The next moment the shattered form burst forth in such radiant glory that all that was not like unto itself melted into nothingness, including the mortal disguises of the three occupants of the tomb, but they had eyes only for Him, as they fell prostrate upon the floor, like dead men, their eyes transfixed upon His glory and the wonder of His presence. He smiled upon them but said nothing, He didn't have to, and vanished from their perception.

The Bright One was on his feet and shining like the sun, but quickly draped himself in a less deadly guise, though still glorious, for his coming interviews with mortal men. The Messengers again hid themselves in the likeness of common men. Said the Bright One with a laugh, "I see now why you might not heed my words! It has been an honor, my friends!" With a sound like thunder, the great stone obligingly moved aside, allowing Bayard and Kaya to rejoin Kipril without as his astonished companion hastened in to see what had happened. They exchanged a joyous smile and melted into the rosy mists of dawn even as the first exultations of joy echoed from the empty tomb, soon to resound throughout the world.

Absent

The Crown Prince had escaped the slaughter only by the fact of being absent when his younger brother arrived with strange and terrible allies, which easily overcame the King and his greatest lords and advisors. When the boy returned and discovered his brother's treachery, even in the very midst of it, he cried to the guardsmen who had accompanied him on his short foray, "gather your men, let us lead this villain far from here before confronting him, lest more innocents perish likewise!"

The Captain nodded grimly and eyed his lieutenant, who saluted smartly and went to gather up what men they could while the young prince went to attract his brother's attention, before all flew like a fox before the hounds, but happily drawing the fiendish company away from the castle and all who remained therein. At last clear of the city and its outlying farms and villages, the little host turned to face their foes, only to discover there was no overcoming such an uncanny nemesis, for only the youngest prince seemed vulnerable to their weapons and none but his own brother dared strike thus, while the other villains were as indifferent to their blades as an ancient oak is to a blade of grass.

The once valiant men were hewn down where they stood like wheat before the scythe. The Captain was the first to fall, for the treacherous Prince had launched a tainted dagger at the renowned warrior, knowing it would instantly kill any man it struck, as his horrid allies made short work of the remaining guardsmen, the traitorous prince went to confront his brother.

Kipril, the Lieutenant, saw his Captain fall and the wicked prince turn towards his elder brother, but some fell warrior, wrought of dark bones and a stygian mist alight with an infernal fire, ran him through the abdomen with his equally black blade. He collapsed with a groan and lay for some moments stunned where he had fallen. He sat up to find the princes both gone and the evil things at work amongst the dead and dying, not a man among the defenders was left standing. He watched in horror as one wounded man was dispatched and the heart cut from the still warm corpse; the lifeless organ vanished in a gout of black flame in the hand of one of the villains and the dead man shakily gained its feet, not the man it had been but a horrible, mindless mockery thereof.

Kipril slumped to the ground, knowing it was only a matter of time before the whole company suffered such an ignominious fate. He glanced wretchedly at the dead Captain, wishing there was something he could do to spare such a noble man and dear friend so inglorious an end. Then he saw the horse, not one of the silly, mindless beasts that had borne the company thither and scattered in terror upon sight of such fiends, but rather a splendid vision of perfect equine beauty: a unicorn without a horn. Perhaps he was in a pre-mortem delirium, but he didn't care, he couldn't leave his Captain to be turned into an undead parody of a once valiant man. He heaved himself to his feet, took up the corpse beside him, and somehow got them both aback the glorious creature, which vanished with a speed not native to the mortal earth.

When the creature stopped, Kipril and his grim burden fell from the great back amid a night-dark, dripping ruin. "Here you can molder in honor, sir," said the stricken man to his dead friend, smiling wistfully he added, "and I shall lie beside you for all eternity, as ever I did in life." Painfully he lifted the slain man atop a stone slab, he drew the Captain's sword and placed it upon the dead man's breast; his own strength utterly spent, he collapsed into darkness.

Garren found his lieutenant slumped beside a stone bier, atop which lay a stone knight in eternal slumber, he smiled wistfully and knelt beside the stricken form, examining the wound and shaking his head grimly, for though the wound was indeed grievous, he might have survived for a day or two, had it not been for the foul spells lacing the weapon that wrought it. The flesh around the wound appeared to be that of a corpse three days dead and it was spreading towards his vulnerable chest, wherein it would wreak havoc amongst heart and lungs and that would be the end of the matter. He laid the moribund soldier atop another stone bed, and even as he did so, the man breathed his last.

"No!" sobbed the Captain in grief, going to his knees beside the dead lieutenant.

"I'm sure he was a valiant and noble man, sir," said an ironic voice, interrupting this tragic scene, "but if you don't mind cutting short your mourning, we do have our duty to be about?"

"I don't know what I was thinking?" said Garren wryly, gaining his feet and smiling like the very first dawn, "The silly fellow is hardly worth all this trouble!"

"Indeed," agreed Kipril, greeting his old friend warmly, "but I believe there are others who would benefit from our services, that poor fellow is quite beyond help!"

"I always thought as much," mused the Captain, "but I never had the heart to tell him."

"You're all heart, sir," agreed the Lieutenant cheerily, "your orders?"

"My orders?" asked Garren in astonishment, studying his own slain form, though somehow it had inexplicably turned to stone, "Has nothing changed?"

"Only the most important things," grinned Kipril, "but you're still the Captain, if not of the King's Guard then of whatever it is we have become embroiled in."

"Ah," said Garren, with absolutely no confidence whatsoever, "at least we can mount up, that's a start!"

"Indeed it is, sir," agreed the Lieutenant, glancing about for that wonderful horse that had brought them hither. As the beast trotted up, snorting in excitement, Kipril smiled to see he bore a pair of fabulous wings, said he in utmost joy, "I wondered how it was we got here, or even that I managed to get myself and a certain lazy oaf aback this amazing creature!"

"That indeed was a miracle," agreed the Captain, "especially considering the state you were in, injured as you were!"

"What are these vile creatures?" frowned the lieutenant, hopping aback the glorious horse.

"I do not know," said Garren grimly, but smiling eagerly, he added, "but I believe we are the answer, even if we know not the riddle." He leapt aback his own fabulous beast, and they were off faster than a whirlwind across the desert.

"Now this is an efficient means of travel!" grinned Kipril in delight, as they sat their horses in a little copse covering a hill near their embattled company, for as they watched, both men were struck down in their turn in the dell below. They watched as the entire company was obliterated, as the younger prince and one of those fell creatures vanished with the crown prince, as Kipril surveyed the grim situation and saw his chance, and the moment the former Kipril had vanished about his business, they trotted out of cover of the trees, their horses no more astonishing to look upon than the rangiest specimen that had once borne the doomed company, swords in hand.

They easily destroyed the half dozen corpse soldiers their vile foes had already produced from what had been their slain comrades, but the fiends themselves were another matter entirely, for each had a mind of its own and weapons and spells that could easily reduce these intrepid intruders to so much nothingness, but neither was the pair green soldiers upon their first foray. The half dozen skeletal or wraithlike monstrosities had not been anticipating resistance, for indeed, there was nothing on the mortal earth that could counter them, and busy as they were with their grim task, their numbers were cut in half before they knew they were even opposed. At last the fiends were vanquished, falling to ash amidst the carnage they had themselves wrought, but so too was the Captain mortally struck, vanishing in a flash of brilliant light, leaving Kipril alone among the dead and dying guardsmen.

He thought at first to mourn once more for his lost friend, but that strange horse vanished with an irritated snort, only to reappear a moment later with his errant rider in his proper place, grinning as sheepishly as any lad of ten that had been unhorsed from an ancient and unflappable pony. Said Kipril with a wide grin, "well that's convenient!"

"We are apparently beyond time," smiled Garren hugely, "why need we fear death?"

Kipril looked sadly upon their murdered company and said grimly, "it is not that I fear it sir, but rather it is still a hideous specter that haunts this broken world and loath am I to see its handiwork, especially amongst those whom we loved."

"But are there not Greater Things beyond, my friend?" said the Captain solemnly, "And is it not the door through which those things are reached? Did we each not suffer it in our turn, as will all mortal flesh?"

"I know," sighed the lieutenant, dismounting and beginning to circulate amongst the dead and wounded, "but it is one thing to enter that door oneself and quite another to watch others be destroyed that they might do likewise." He smiled wryly, "were you yourself not heartbroken at the fate of your lieutenant?"

"It was a weak moment," smiled the Captain wistfully, "but I take your point." He eyed the carnage in disgust, "what is to come of them?"

"Most are already dead, sir," sighed Kipril, "the few that live still will soon succumb to their tainted wounds."

"It was a senseless massacre," hissed Garren in revulsion, "we were defenseless!"

"Was it so senseless?" queried a little magpie, alighting on a branch at eye level with the Captain, "Can you see all ends?"

"No," said the Captain gravely, dropping his gaze abashedly, studying his horse's mane with sudden interest, as if the secrets of the ages might be found therein.

"The Enemy has unleashed a new breed of undead menace upon the mortal world," continued the bird, "but I was not caught unawares, indeed, his seeming victory has turned to defeat; his helpless victims will become a veritable menace to their killers! Arise!" At such a command, even the rocks must cry aloud, if nothing else in all creation would heed the call of its Master and Maker, but at least in this case, the murdered company rather got to its feet instead.

That peculiar fowl turned His attention back to the chagrined Captain, saying quietly, for his ears alone, "be easy child, I know what a strange day it has been for you! Fear not, ever am I with you. You will find those of your men, who are My creatures, like yourself and your Lieutenant, the first of my Messengers: men beyond death and time. The rest I have restored to mortal life, in hopes that one day they too will find Peace. Do what you must to restore peace and order to this Kingdom and counter the evil of such fell things wherever they decide to strike! Farewell!" He vanished into the trees with a flick of white wings, leaving Garren to sigh in wonder, wishing he could bask in that Presence for all eternity, but for now, he had his orders.

"Lieutenant?" said the Captain, as an idea suddenly occurred to him, and he knew it was no mortal hunch, but rather what he must attempt to fulfill his orders, "Take a contingent of men and find the missing prince; I'll take the rest and we'll see what we can do for the King!"

"Yes, sir!" said the Lieutenant, his horse rearing with the excitement of his master, a moment later he reined the creature amidst the staring and gaping men, urging them to pull themselves together with all haste, for the Prince's life verily depended upon it. Well used to taking orders, they started to stir, even if it would be some time before their minds could adjust to the idea that they were alive. Kipril seemed to know exactly which men were to accompany him, as he sorted off the mortal members of the company and set them to marching with all haste in the direction he felt himself inexorably drawn. He saluted the Captain smartly, they exchanged a knowing smile, and he galloped after the vanishing company, already lost to sight beyond a distant hill.

Once the others were well and truly gone, Garren dismounted and sent his astonishing horse off on another errand with a simple thought, smiling in wonder at this strange new adventure that had been set him, but schooling his features to the gravity befitting the situation, he approached his newest recruits. Said he quietly, "you're dead lads." He let the shock of this sink in for a moment, before continuing with a broad smile, "or rather you are beyond death and time both. I hardly know what it is we have begun, but it will be intriguing indeed, but for now, we must skirt the usual course of time in order to save the King." His smile was wry indeed, "how good are you lads at playing pretend?" They stared at him as if he had gone mad, but there was no little delight and anticipation upon each and every face.

Kipril trotted on for what was left of the day at the head of the little company, if his heart had still been that of a mortal man, he would have been quite impatient with their progress, feeling that every moment of delay might be the one that cost the Prince his life, but as that was not the case, he could ride on without the least concern or care, knowing he would reach his destination exactly when he must, for what was time now to him? If time was a river, one that flowed so strong and fast one could not swim against the current, he was a fish that had been pulled out of the water and given wings, nay he was now a bird that could fly to any point along its flow and dive back in with impunity, only to flit out again at need.

Once the entire company was settled for the night, save Kipril, who would keep the first watch, he did far more than just watch the darkness, rather he touched each and every sleeper with a glowing hand, sending them to a different when, if the same where. They awoke in the morning none the wiser, but much rested and able to laugh joyously amongst themselves at their escape from death. They were quite pleased to find the lieutenant had somewhere procured provisions for them as well, and heartily did they eat, rejoicing to have an appetite and the chance to sate it.

"What happened, sir?" asked one young soldier as he filled his plate a second time, "I was sure we were all dead or worse!"

"You were, lad," said Kipril in quiet joy, "as were we all. The Master Himself restored us all to form and function."

"The Master?!" laughed the boy in wonder, as if his lieutenant believed in fairies and winged horses, "Is he not just a tale to teach little boys morality?"

"What of those terrible fiends?" asked the lieutenant, seeing every eye fixed curiously upon their conversation, "Were they not something out of a nightmare or an old tale? But the death and violence each doled out was quite real, as is the Master who called you back to waking life! One day you will again die, be it later today when we try rescuing the Prince or sixty years from now when you are an old man in bed, and on that day you must give an account of yourself to the One who made you, the One who gave you a second chance at life, both mortal and eternal. Will you live for yourself, utterly rejecting the One who made you and the reason therefor, who died Himself that men might live, or will you embrace Him and His purpose for your life, fulfilling your destiny, and doing what you can to help others who still wander in the valley of death and darkness?"

The boy grinned ruefully, "you tell it much better than my old gran, sir! Please, will you tell us more?"

"That I will lad," smiled Kipril eagerly as each and every member of the company nodded their agreement thereto, "the Princes will be along late this afternoon, until then we have time enough for all the tale and any questions relating thereto." He began the ancient tale, as strange and scandalous in his day as it had been when the Master Himself walked the world He had made in mortal flesh, like the author of a book becoming a character in his own tale to save it from unutterable tragedy.

He had wrought everything, perfect and good, but it was not enough for mankind, for he would be a god, master of his own destiny, and so did he break the world, bringing sin and death, evil and chaos into a once perfect world. He came Himself, the Author into His own story, to save the world from itself, but they mocked and scorned Him, putting Him to a terrible death, but He broke the power of the grave, overcoming death and promising to return for those who truly loved Him, setting right all the wrongs that had ever been and restoring the world to the perfection it yearned for.

Though He returned to His own place of glory beyond all the sorrows of the world, His ancient foe still wandered too and fro, up and down, calling himself the prince of that broken world, though his final defeat had already been accomplished, a defeated and desperate foe fights all the fiercer, for he has nothing to lose. He, like men, was a created being that would be a god, but he was a creature of such immense power that a mortal mind could hardly comprehend; once he was the greatest servant of the Master, but now His greatest Foe. He and all his likeminded followers: anyone who utterly rejected their Maker, would one day be cast into utter night, for if they would not willingly abide that Presence, He would not force them to endure it, but as He was the Source of all that was good and right and true and beautiful and wonderful, so too would they deny themselves all things, preferring the nothingness and the darkness, wherein they might truly be gods, albeit only of their own miniscule and stunted existence, but such was their choice, wretched though it be.

"Fairy tales!" beamed the lad, Bayard by name, once Kipril had told his tale, "It's a veritable fairy tale we're living, all the peculiarities of this particular adventure aside! I'm in!" So too did a number of that company, but a few shook their heads in exasperation, grateful for the miracle that had spared them but still unwilling to look too deeply into those things that might completely turn their world on its head.

Said Kipril quietly, "the younger prince is in alliance with those terrible creatures, I know of a certain he has at least one such villain with him; this will be very dangerous, and if you perish again, there is no promise of rescue this time, but for those in the Master's keeping, death is but a door into Greater Things, rather than the gate into eternal night. Think well upon my words, and any who finds himself not wishing to court death again so soon, none will think the worse of you for withdrawing before battle is met."

"We may not believe in your particular mythos, sir," said a grizzled old soldier, "but we are loyal to the King and his heir, we'll do what we must."

"Very well," said Kipril quietly, "such loyalty to a King of men is laudable, especially in the face of such dire circumstances, but loyalty to the True King is a treasure beyond price. I cannot force you to believe in things unseen, but neither will I, can I help it, send you to your deaths without having heard that which is most important for you to hear." They might not agree with his theology, but they appreciated his concern for themselves and his unflinching courage and loyalty to their company, the Captain, and the King himself.

Suddenly he was on his feet and chivvying the rest of them to hide all traces that they had ever inhabited the little dell. The remains of the fire and their breakfast were spirited away, the men hid themselves amongst the spindly wood and thick brush in which they had camped, each clutching his sword in anticipation. As the afternoon drew into evening, suddenly a darkness far deeper than the shadows beneath the gathered trees flashed suddenly in the dell, for a moment obscuring the deep golden light that currently dwelt there. But it faded to nothing, revealing one of the fiendish creatures, a darkly robed wraithlike creature, accompanying the treacherous prince and his terrified but furious brother.

The younger threw the elder to the ground with a harsh laugh of triumph, "you are the last defense! The King and his wisest and strongest men are no more, your little band of rebels has been slaughtered like so many sheep, and now you will join them!"

"What are these horrid things?" stuttered the terrified Crown Prince, Ithril by name.

Said horrid thing drew itself up and spat at the insolent child of men, "things beyond your worst nightmares, wretch! Monsters against whom no living man can stand! We will take your kingdom and give it into the hands of whom we will and then do the same in every kingdom in the world!"

"You mean you'll give it to me," corrected Tyne, the younger prince.

"If that is our choice," snapped the fiend, "but it may fall to someone else, for you have proved neither your loyalty to my master nor your usefulness, merely your lust for power and your willingness to use whomever you must to gain it."

As the two argued, Ithril thought to take his chance, and gaining his feet, he dashed beneath the shadows of the trees, finding much to his astonishment, some of his slaughtered company awaiting him there. He could not stifle his cry of surprise and horror, thinking them ghosts or worse, little understanding how they could be the men he had known, still alive under the sun. But Kipril was there to greet him, very much himself, as he took the overwrought boy by the shoulders and shook him gently, eliciting a weak and rueful smile, for the prince felt strength and warmth in the man's grasp, no undead ghoul was this!

The argumentative pair had thought to pursue the errant boy, but his strangled cry stopped them suddenly in their tracks, for what could so unsettle the boy after all he had already been through? When the company stepped out of the trees, Tyne fell to his knees in horror at what he took for a company of ghouls come for vengeance, but the dark mage was not so easily startled, he conjured a ball of black fire and launched it at Bayard, who vanished with a scream of anguish, but giving Kipril the moment he needed to thrust the villain through the heart with his sword, whereupon he fell to ash that blew away on a sudden, fretful wind.

He looked grimly upon the traitorous prince and asked, "and what of you, Sire?"

Ithril emerged from the shrubs and stared stonily at his brother, but then pleadingly at Kipril, "must I be the one to mete out justice, upon my own brother?"

Kipril shook his head and a slight smile graced his lips, "I do not think things are as desperate at home as we initially thought. Let us ride home with our prisoner and see if the King and his lords and advisors still remain to do their duty, if not, I fear it shall indeed fall to you, Highness."

"Very well," sighed Ithril heavily, "but how is it you yourselves are alive? Before I was spirited away to this place, what I saw of the slaughter of my companions was grievous indeed!"

"We were all dead, Sire," said Ithril quietly, "but the Master Himself restored us to waking life."

"And how did you destroy that fell mage?" persisted the Prince, "Your sword was in nowise so effective previously."

"No," said Kipril, his smile deep and mysterious, "but that too is a blessing of my Master."

"Give it to me," said the Prince eagerly.

"My sword?!" said Kipril in wonder.

"No," corrected Ithril, "whatever it is that makes you smile like that!"

Ithril's smile was delight itself, "ah Sire, that I can do!" Again that night, he regaled them all with the old, old tale, though Tyne snarled and spat silently through the whole, terrible ordeal, wishing they had already meted out justice, that he not have to endure such folly, only the hope of their utter dismay in finding the king and his court truly slaughtered upon their return, an act in which he had taken part, kept him from complete despair.

One moment Bayard felt himself afire with unholy flames, the next he was flailing about in a river whose water was Life. He relaxed immediately and was borne to shore, where he surveyed a bright and verdant land of scattered trees and rolling hills, so unutterably wonderful he knew it must be lost Paradise. A little bird fluttered down from a nearby tree and perched upon a stone, eyeing the boy keenly, as their eyes met, the boy threw himself at the feet of what was in nowise a bird, but rather the Maker of all things, avian and otherwise.

For a moment a parade of horrors ran through his mind, all the evil he had done, all the good he had left undone, but the next, they were gone, as if they had never been. Said He quietly, "be at peace child, your sins are no more, for I have borne them. Now will you enter My rest or return to the world you knew, there to do what you can to fight such fell villains?"

"I would fight, Sir, if I might?" said the boy eagerly.

"Then here is your horse," said the Magpie, flitting off with an amused wink, "and a few extra!"

The boy goggled at impish mirth from such a Source, and goggled the more when he looked upon said horses. A few extra indeed! Near a dozen of the creatures stood there gazing keenly at him, fire in their eyes, tossing their heads and impatient to be about the business for which they had been made. They weren't sapient creatures, possessed of a mind and personality and soul, as men would call it, for they were beasts, but far wiser than any mortal animal, able to sense their master's thoughts and intentions, often anticipating their movements before the man himself was aware of what he intended. One of the magnificent creatures screamed a greeting and trotted up to Bayard, as the rest of the herd set to bucking and frisking in anticipation. The moment he was astride the wondrous horse, the whole bunch vanished with the unmatchable speed of their kind.

Bayard reappeared in the little dell where he had perished alongside everyone else and later that same day went marching off to save the imperiled Prince, but he did not lead the parade, rather that honor went to the Captain's own horse, who went galloping ahead, neighing his triumph, eliciting an eager whinny from near a dozen equine throats. The fiery company clattered into the midst of the dell, frisking and bucking like so many colts loosed on fresh pasture.

The boy dismounted and saluted his Captain, who smiled broadly and asked, "how go matters with the Prince?"

"I believe the Lieutenant has matters well in hand, sir," grinned the boy, "right before that evil mage dispatched me with his vile fire, I saw the lieutenant nearing the fellow, ready to strike."

Garren nodded happily, "now it's our turn to see that the King and his are also thus spared; welcome aboard lad!"

The boy saluted and threw himself aback the magnificent beast, the last of the company to do so, and with a sweep of those glorious wings, they could thwart even time itself. So it was a dozen mounted men invaded the great hall wherein the King was at that moment holding court, but none saw anything untoward, nor did a single hair on a mortal head stir in the wind of their passing. They spread themselves throughout the hall, invisible to mortal gaze, watching and waiting, but nothing happened that might not on any other day at court. At last, the King dismissed everyone but his closest advisors and most powerful lords, preparing to discuss the more important matters of the day, but it was not to be, for it was at that precise moment that Garren ordered his charge.

Swift as thought, a Messenger swooped upon the nearest lord or councilor, tossing him aback the waiting horse, which then vanished instantly, leaving his rider to don the face of the kidnapped man. In this way, the King and his Council was spared a living nightmare, for the very next moment, the doors at the end of the hall flew open and in stormed Tyne and his nefarious allies, who soon reduced the ersatz King and his sham advisors to so much carrion. Ithril then burst upon the scene, defying his brother to catch him if he could. The instant the defiant Prince dashed off to begin the chase, the carrion strewing the great hall began to glow with an uncanny light, and the next moment, the King and his council stood or sat in their original places, none the wiser that anything untoward had happened.

"That was ghastly!" grinned Bayard in the highest spirits, as if he hadn't just been hacked to bits for a second time that day by something too terrible to name.

"All in a day's work, lad," grinned the Captain in reply, "I don't believe there is anything now considered normal, at least in our odd occupation, but come, we'd best catch up with the Lieutenant's party and see what will come of the matter; I do not think the villains behind this plot will long abide defeat." The dozen Messengers exchanged an eager grin and vanished with all the unthinkable speed of their splendid mounts, appearing in a night dark wood, just outside what appeared to be a modest campsite.

"Who goes?" called the sentry in challenge.

"Easy man," came the Captain's familiar voice.

"Sir?!" said the astonished watchman.

"Yes, it's me," smiled Garren wryly, adding in an undertone, "but who can tell on this most peculiar of days? Is the Lieutenant about?"

"Right behind you, sir," grinned Kipril, sheathing his sword, for the Captain was not the only fiend stalking the night.

Garren smiled wryly at his major minion, "and just what are you up to?"

"Just overcautious," replied the uneasy Lieutenant, "perhaps?"

"I think you have the right of it, my friend," replied Garren, feeling some indefinable disquiet himself, his hand instinctively clutching at his sword hilt, "I do not think this a place for mortal men this night."

"You can ask, sir," said Kipril grimly, "but they are a stubborn lot, they've been warned time and again, but they refuse to leave even so." He saw Bayard amongst the Captain's party and added with a nod of welcome, "but most have come round to our way of thinking."

Garren turned to his temporary second in command and ordered, "why don't half of you go watch for things that do worse than go bump in the night, whilst the rest of you accompany me into the camp." They quickly divided as ordered, one man even relieving the sentry and allowing the man to join his fellows around the fire.

There were many eager greetings, but a few worried looks as the Captain returned with only half the men who had accompanied him. He smiled easily at them and said, "rest easy, the balance of my command is off patrolling the night, for I doubt our enemies will let us pass a quiet evening after such a rout." He barked a laugh, "and I even found something you lot lost!" He glanced significantly at Bayard, who had taken the sentry's place, but stepped into the firelight long enough to be recognized before resuming his post. There were many eager cheers, for the loss of even one man had challenged their rising sense of invincibility, at least amongst the mortal members of the company, no such fantasies could trouble a Messenger, beyond such mortal failings as he was.

Said Kipril quietly to the Captain, once they had drawn aside to converse, "that was the other matter I wished to speak with you about, sir. The men feel we now live some sort of charmed life, as if they can never die, or if they do, it is only temporary; I do not know how to counter it without completely depressing morale."

"I suppose it is to be expected," sighed the Captain heavily, "when once one has had a miracle, it is human nature to expect that one deserves another! I should have left Bayard in his grave!"

"It little matters," said Kipril with a resigned shake of his head, "perhaps it will even make the remaining skeptics think twice about their own lack of faith?"

"We can only hope," said the Captain grimly, suddenly tensing and drawing his sword, even as the Lieutenant had done, both scanning the night.

"Sir?" came the voice of Bayard, approaching through the gloom, "There is a man who demands an audience with both of the Princes and any of our company that would care to listen."

"Demands?" said the Captain in puzzlement.

"He says he is a mere teller of tales and means no harm to any of us, but he would have both sides of the tale told, rather than only that peculiar mythology to which we cling like drowning men to any bit of flotsam they can reach," said Bayard, adding with a rueful smile, "his words, not mine, Sir!"

"Of course lad," said the Captain with a grim smile, "what is he?" At the boy's puzzled look, he amended, "is he one of those vile creatures or a mortal man?"

"He looks a man sir," said the boy, "but there's a feeling about him that is unnatural, though I am unsure if it is from him personally or from the evil in which he has immersed himself."

"Lead me to this villain," said the Captain in grim eagerness, "and let us see what comes of the matter." Kipril returned to the camp while the Captain went to interview their visitor.

The man, if man he was, studied the approaching Captain like some noisome insect he was about to crush into nothingness with the heel of his boot. Sneered the fellow without so much as a nod of greeting, "are you the Captain of this rabble? Then let me by that I may speak words of enlightenment to these benighted soldiers of yours."

"Why should I?" said the Captain grimly.

"Because you cannot stop me," hissed the villain in wicked anticipation, "I know what you are, and I know what you aren't!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked the Captain in true wonder.

The man drew a dagger and the Captain reached for his sword, but the fiend didn't attack anyone save himself. He slashed his palm and showed the oozing blood to his companions. "Your turn," sneered the fellow.

Garren exchanged a grim look with Bayard, but offered his own hand for similar treatment. There was a slight flash of light but nothing more, it was as if the wound had never been. "You are not a mortal man," continued the intruder, "and you cannot importune a mortal man, has he a wish to come peaceably into your camp."

The Captain sighed heavily as this certainty asserted itself in his mind, "that I cannot, though I cannot say the same of my mortal soldiers."

"Allow me a fair hearing," said the fiend, "and let them decide what is to be done with me, whether I shall be allowed to stay or am ejected from your company."

"Very well," said Garren, "but know that we are well able to deal with you should your intentions become something other than peaceable!"

"Fair enough," scorned the fellow, pushing past the Captain and moving deeper into the camp. He seated himself before the fire and drew every eye to himself, "greetings, my friends, my name matters not but I would not have you long ignorant of those things which I find most important in life and beyond it. I am sure your commanding officers have regaled you with their own version of such tales, but let me assure you, though their intentions were undoubtedly the best, they spoke in ignorance! What can men of war and action know of wisdom and lore? But that is my trade, and gladly will I tell all I know!"

Even those who knew better felt themselves enspelled by his words, twisted and evil though they be. He spoke long of the right of men to forge their owns destinies, to possess power and wealth unimaginable, of a coming age of order and peace and reason, of the evils of superstition and ignorance and myth, and the company hung on every word, so well did he speak. The spell was suddenly broken as he slunk from their presence with a whispered, "now it is time for action, but will any have the wisdom and courage to act on what they just heard?"

Hearing the signal implicit in those parting words, Tyne did not hesitate to launch the dagger, slipped to him covertly by the evil storyteller and the means by which he secretly escaped his bonds, at his wondering brother, who slumped with the blade in his heart, only to feel the Captain's blade in his own back, his triumphant grin turning to a look of surprise, forever frozen on his lifeless face. The camp was suddenly in uproar, men were on their feet, some were shouting, weapons were bared, but there was no enemy upon whom to vent their surprise and fury, for the storyteller had vanished into the night and the traitorous prince was dead, as was his brother.

At last the Captain managed to calm the riotous and near panicky mass of men, they resumed their seats and eyed him skeptically, unsure what to make of the unsettling tales and the sudden tragedy wrought amongst them. Said Garren grimly, "let us first establish what just happened, so all know the truth of the matter!"

"You killed the younger prince!" came one astonished voice.

"Only after he killed his brother," retorted another.

"How did the fellow get loose and get ahold of a weapon?" came the question.

The Captain shook his head gravely, "that dark bard is the culprit in this mess, that is what comes of listening to the tales he spins; that is the result of viewing the world as he does! He is a talented teller of stories, but what sort of tales does he tell? You have each dedicated your lives to truth, honor, courage, and justice, but what does that fellow preach? Selfishness and evil, treachery and cruelty! Would you become such as he?"

"But you slew one of those you are sworn to protect!" came the stern retort, though everyone else seemed lost in thought at his words, "The King alone can deal out justice in such a matter!"

Garren drew his sword once more and slashed at the nearest man, much unsettling the company, fearing their Captain mad, but though the man jumped in surprise, no other hurt came to him. As he resheathed his blade, he said quietly, "as you can see, mortal men have nothing to fear from me! I am a deadly foe to those dread things that fell upon this company at the first, but I can in nowise hurt or importune a mortal creature unless either I am bidden to deal out justice or work a miracle for their benefit, in this case it was certainly the former. The King knows nothing of this little disaster, having been miraculously spared such a doom himself; he will certainly take it amiss if we arrived with his heir dead and proclaiming it the younger brother's fault. There would be no justice in such a circumstance."

"But now both princes are dead and the King knows not why nor why we are absent from our posts?" came the same skeptical voice.

"His wrath will fall hard upon those of this company that return," said Garren heavily, "most especially upon myself."

There was a general uproar at this, for all knew what the King's reaction must be and though they respected their captain all the more for doing what could only be his duty, all were aghast that such an inglorious end should be his. Kipril called them to order, saying quietly, "forget the Captain's fate and think upon your own. Your choices are to return with the Captain and face a grim end for what the King can only see as treason and a dereliction of duty, to be miraculously returned to your posts shortly after this company initially departed with none the wiser that anything has happened, or to depart whither you would and start life anew in another place."

"We can die as traitors, pretend nothing happened, or run away?" came the same querulous voice, "After all we have been through, those are our options?"

"Alas, they are," said Garren quietly, "for none within the castle knows the truth, but it must be better than the death we should have had from the first."

"I'm coming with you, sir," said a young soldier from Kipril's company, one who had recently begun to believe in ancient myth.

"As will I!" came another in like circumstances, as did three others.

"Are you ready to face what waits beyond death's dark door?" queried the Captain gravely of the volunteers. They eagerly nodded an affirmative and he could not help but smile, grim though it be.

"What of the Lieutenant and the men from your company, sir?" came the persistent questioner's next query.

Kipril smiled grimly, "we'll continue to see that those vile things, against whom mortal men are helpless, do not make the situation worse."

"You refuse to die alongside your Captain?" said the soldier in wonder.

Kipril bowed his head, "I've already done that upon this adventure. Now it is his duty to appease the King's wrath lest it fall on innocents and mine to see that the true villains behind these plots get up to no further mischief in the interim. Some of you were miraculously restored to mortal life, but the rest of us are now dead, at least to mortal sensibilities. Our duty and abilities are something beyond time and death, else we could do nothing against these terrible foes, but so too must we resign the life we knew and pursue the adventure our Master sets us. There's no point in anyone who's already dead, save the Captain, repeating the adventure."

"So it remains for we mere mortals to decide what is to come of us?" said the skeptical soldier.

Kipril nodded, "the rest of us have our orders."

Said the same quizzical soldier, "you can really make it look to others as if none of this ever happened, or rather that we weren't personally involved?"

"Yes," said Kipril, "time and space mean nothing to those beyond it; we can return you to your posts and none would be the wiser that you ever left."

The skeptical man glanced grimly at the remaining soldiers of the company that had not yet made a decision, said he gruffly, "I don't like the idea of running away in shame or pretending nothing ever happened." He eyed the first lad that had volunteered to return to his death, "yet you are content to return, innocent though you be, and die a traitor's death?"

The boy shrugged abashedly and said, "there are greater things beyond death, and eager am I to discover them. Of the choices given us, it is the one I can best live with, even if I die for it."

"Well spoken, lad," said the aging soldier, "and because you're willing to die for the Captain's nonsense, so too am I! None of the miracles of which I have been a part or witness of was enough to convince me, nor any well told tale, but your steadfast faith and courage touch something in this stony old heart that could not be moved else. May the Master have mercy on my soul!" He then joined ranks with the voluntary company of soon to be late men.

"Touching as this is," said the most outspoken of the remaining soldiers, "and as much as we have been through together, while we are still loyal to the Captain and the company, there are some of us that only want to resume our lives, tedious as they may now seem, as they were before terrible things, of both a good and evil nature, fell upon us."

Kipril raised a glowing hand and smiled wistfully, "we only ask that you say nothing of what you know to be the truth in days to come, especially when things go ill for the Captain and the balance of the company."

The man laughed wryly, "who would believe us?"

"Very well," said Kipril, touching one then another until all had vanished back to their posts as if the whole adventure had never been, save for the memories they carried with them.

"We might as well be off, lads," said Garren wistfully, "I doubt any of us will get any sleep this night."

He glanced hopefully at Kipril, who barked a laugh and said, "and we'd happily loan you the horses you'll need to get there."

"What about the rest of us?" queried Bayard hopefully.

Smiled Kipril grimly, "we get to go impersonate so much carrion." At the boy's horrified and incredulous look, he added with a laugh, "we can't have a dozen of the King's guardsmen just vanishing from the Kingdom with no explanation as to their fate. We'll go lie down and die whence we already have."

"How very exciting," smiled Bayard grimly, "I finally discover true life and all we seem to do is die!"

"That about sums it up," grinned the Captain in reply, "let's be off lads!"

The entire company rode off together, but there was no need to share horses, for when they recalled the beasts, from wherever it was they strayed to during their off hours, they brought some new friends along, just enough to mount the mortal, if doomed, men and one to bear the dead princes. So did the little company set off, only to find themselves suddenly in the same grim dell in the dark before dawn the very morning afterward. Every Messenger except the Captain soon collapsed and lay dead, however he had been wounded and fallen during the original massacre. The Captain gently laid the crown prince among them, but continued back to the palace with the treacherous brother and those who had volunteered to go with him.

The King had not slept at all, not knowing whither his sons had flown or why nearly two dozen of his guardsmen had inexplicably abandoned their posts likewise. When a servant came running to report that the Captain had returned with one dead prince and a report that the other and over half of the missing guardsmen lay dead not far from the city, the King nearly flew down to the courtyard to demand answers.

"Who killed my youngest son?" demanded the furious King.

"I did," said the Captain stonily, offering no further explanation in his own defense, knowing it would do no good.

The King flinched as if physically struck in the face, the shock only deepening his ire, "you'll hang for this!" Garren nodded grimly and the King asked, "what happened to the others?"

Replied the Captain, "the youngest Prince found himself allies of a most evil and terrible nature; it was they that slew the balance of our company."

"Who ordered you to leave the castle or to confront such villains?" asked the King darkly.

"The Crown Prince became aware of his brother's intentions and ordered all the men he could quickly gather into their saddles," said Garren.

"And what came of these murderous fiends?" asked the King skeptically.

"They have been driven off, Sire, at least for now," replied the Captain.

"So my heir is not even to have justice?" queried the King, "For you did not avenge him but merely chased his killers away, like jackals from a carcass?"

"It was his own brother that slew him, Sire," said Garren quietly.

The King slapped the Captain, hard, "it is not for you to mete out justice in such a case!" He called to the nearest guardsman who had not abandoned his post, "see that this man and his entire company are hanged at dawn! Assemble everyone in the palace and city to watch!"

"Yes, Sire," said the man reluctantly, for he was one of the men who had heeded the Prince's call but later wished to return to his post as if nothing untoward had happened, but at Garren's wry grin, the man could not help but smile back and wink conspiratorially. So it was the King's wrath was spent on the most loyal and noble of his subjects though it did nothing to assuage his grief, but even as the Captain's swaying form kicked its last, a certain teller of vile tales sidled up to the King and offered his wisdom and knowledge of ancient lore, if his Majesty could use it during these dark and confusing days? But his tales were of a far different sort than the few facts the Captain had imparted about the strange ordeal that had cost him both his sons.

So it was the younger was laid in state and mourned as a hero, whereas the elder prince and the ignominious guardsmen that had answered his treacherous call, including those executed for their crimes against the state, were buried in a mass grave dug into the side of the hill beside which they had died and ever after it was used as a dumping place for the city's refuse.

The entire company of Messengers sat their horses atop that hill and watched the final interment of their mortal remains, unseen by any mortal eye, each smiling wryly at such unfortunate treatment of what should be heroes of the realm, rather than betrayers thereof, but they had no say in the matter. "After all we have been through and done!" said the former Prince in astonishment.

"At least you didn't hang for it," said one young soldier wryly, Kyan by name.

"What is mortal glory to us?" asked the Captain, "The least of our Master's glory is more than enough and His approval our only motivation in whatever He asks."

"How did we become such villains in the eyes of the Kingdom?" asked Kipril in wonder.

"That vile storyteller got his claws into the King," said Ithril sadly, "while the rest of you were hanging about, I was warding the King, if unseen."

"There was nothing you could do to stop him, lad," said Garren quietly, "mortal men must be allowed to decide and act as they feel they must, even if it destroys them personally or the Kingdom they rule!" He brightened suddenly and addressed his entire command, "as interesting as this historical spectacle no doubt is, I believe we each have an adventure to be about!"

With many a salute and an exchange of eager glances, the entire company vanished in a flutter of bright wings, leaving only the Captain and his Lieutenant upon the brow of that hill. "This wasn't how I planned to end my career," grinned Garren.

"Your career is only beginning, my friend," laughed Kipril, "though at least our mortal shells can rot together, as is only appropriate, for did I not vow as much with my dying breath?"

"Which one?" asked Garren wryly, "It seems we've done nothing but of late!"

"Occupational hazard," shrugged the Lieutenant, unconcerned, his smile grew eager as he said, "but let's give that storyteller a little professional competition!"

"Ah," grinned Garren like an eager new recruit, "that sounds splendid." Both reined their horses sharply to the left and vanished upon their next quest.

They reappeared upon a night of rain in some distant part of the realm, though not bothered in the least by physical weather, both hastened into the nearby inn, as if seeking shelter from the storm, rather than someone within its confines. They settled at an empty table near the back, just two more soggy travelers in a busy common room full of such. The man holding forth by the fire caught their attention and held them in thrall with his many tales, so much so that they could not even draw their enchanted gazes away for a moment to exchange an eager grin that they had indeed found their quarry. He spoke on for most of the night, but at last weariness or pressing business upon the morrow forced even his most ardent listeners to abandon his tales for unhappier climes, leaving only the innkeeper wiping abandoned tables and mugs on the far side of the room, a cat upon the hearth rug, and a pair of unremarkable strangers at a table by the window to pay attention to anything else he might have to say.

Instead of regaling the attentive but indifferent cat with another rousing tale, the storyteller instead chose to seat himself across from these remarkably unremarkable men, smiling at them knowingly, as if he was in on their secret, he asked, "just what are you gentlemen up to?"

"Why would you ask such a question?" smiled Kipril benignly, though his eyes flashed with hidden mirth.

"That smile itself is answer enough," retorted the man, Bren by name, "you must have an ulterior motive, else why linger here at this obscene hour of the night? You are just too bland in appearance to be that bland in reality!"

Garren smiled appreciatively, "you're telling me our disguises are too good?"

"Yes," chuckled their companion, "either you have no experience dressing as common men or it has been a very long time since you have."

"That it has," mused the Captain wistfully, trying to remember when the last time was that he wore anything but the uniform of the Guard.

"Yet you are not disguised noblemen," dared Bren, as the pair was momentarily silent, lost in their own thoughts, "nor are you villains."

"But we've come to kidnap you!" countered Kipril with what he hoped was a villainous laugh.

"That I doubt very much," laughed Bren in reply, "perhaps you have come to request my assistance, but I doubt you mean me any harm."

Garren shook his head gravely, "you're right in thinking we mean you no harm lad, but make no mistake, this quest will cost you your life. Is that a price you are willing to pay?"

"What can come at so dear a cost?" queried the man, not afraid, but rather intensely curious.

"The Kingdom is on the verge of plunging into utter night," said Kipril quietly, "a nefarious storyteller has the King's ear, and after his recent tragedy, he is vulnerable to the fell man's evil notions. You will have the chance to counter this villain's false tales, but the Kingdom's fate is inevitably up to its Sovereign and what he chooses to believe."

"His recent tragedy?" asked the storyteller.

"One son perished at the hands of the other," said Garren grimly, "the treacherous brother was justly dealt with immediately thereafter, bereaving the King of both sons, but this dark bard has twisted the tale so that the man thinks the murdered prince the villain and his killer the hero!"

"A grim quest indeed!" said the man, darting to his feet, "Let us be about it, gentlemen!"

"Not so fast," hissed a terrible voice, as the intruder burst through the inn's front door, clove Garren in half, and made to do the same with the petrified Bren with his next stroke, but Kipril, almost lazily, stuck a dagger in the monster's heart as it raised its arms for the next blow. As it fell to ash where it stood, Bren could breathe again, he stared at Kipril, dumbfounded, for he was neither anxious, grieved, nor terrified at what had just happened.

Stuttered Bren at last, "that thing?! Your friend?!"

Kipril arched one vastly amused brow, "you think me a heartless wretch for not mourning the loss of my friend and wonder at my calm in the face of such a monster and my nonchalance in dealing with it?"

"Yes," said the man dazedly.

Kipril countered, "do you get much excited about the basics of grammar?"

"Excuse me?" said the astonished storyteller.

"The very basics upon which your profession depends?" persisted Kipril, "Do they much trouble you in the midst of a well told tale?"

"I suppose not," frowned the man in consternation.

"So why are you overly excited about the basics of my own?" smiled the Lieutenant vastly, "It is my business to keep such horrid things in check, and part of that is occasionally falling afoul of their weapons or spells."

"Your friend will return?!" said the bard in wonder.

"You'll see stranger things yet, my friend," agreed Kipril, "come, I'll give you a ride."

They left the inn, happily the innkeeper had withdrawn to the back and missed the fiendish thing that had invaded his common room, and approached a horse as bland in appearance as his master. Bren smiled wryly, "let me guess, is it a unicorn?"

"Don't be ridiculous," smiled Kipril, "it's a winged horse, now get on!"

"I hope I am dreaming," said the man, climbing astride the unremarkable beast.

"Do you really?" queried Kipril, leaping up behind the storyteller.

Bren frowned thoughtfully, "actually, no, as terrible as this scheme of yours is like to be, I would not go back to my old life for anything."

"That's a very good thing," laughed Kipril in anticipation, as the world spun around them, "as we have promised to get you killed in this endeavor."

They stood on a hill overlooking the great city, veils of mist drifted through the low places as the new risen sun climbed ever higher in the sky; Garren sat his horse beside them, grinning as broadly as that bright star, said he, "I believe we'll be just in time."

Kipril actually gaped at him, this unflappable lieutenant who had never been surprised at anything through all their years together, "you're going to watch your own execution?"

Garren shrugged and said, "is it not the King's command that everyone be there?"

"What am I missing?" said the storyteller wanly, if Kipril was surprised, Bren must be overwrought.

"Easy lad," smiled Garren easily, urging his horse down the hill and joining the thronging mass of folk forced from their beds at an unseemly hour for this demonstration of the King's wrath, "time and space mean nothing to men beyond death. I mentioned the murderous prince had been justly dealt with? Mine was the hand of justice, though usually we cannot harm or even importune a mortal creature. But the King in nowise saw it that way, so he justly had, or rather will have, myself, the very Captain of his Guard, and six of his guardsmen hanged for the affair. We both met our mortal ends upon that particular adventure, so it was a small matter to be killed again to tie up some of the loose ends, though the guardsmen who accompanied me were not in like circumstances, but they volunteered to meet such an end, confident in our Master, in this life and beyond it."

"So too was my choice," sighed Bren heavily, he glanced significantly at his companions, "but if it is the price of the chance of saving the realm, so be it!"

They continued upon their way in silence, for even that brief exchange had garnered suspicious and irritated looks from the rest of the distraught throng flowing into the city like an ebbing tide. They stood towards the back, their horses vanishing from the crowded square in which they found themselves. The Messengers exchanged an amused glance to see the erstwhile prince appear aback his great horse, unseen by any mortal eye, and not noticing them, for they wore strange faces and blended in with the vast crowd forced to witness the coming spectacle.

"This is poetically ironic," smiled the Captain grimly, as he watched his former self and his doomed men mounting the scaffold.

"I beg that you leave the literary arts to me sir," said Bren, his own smile looking as if he was the one about to be hanged, a last laugh at the world fixed upon his face, "as I will leave all matters military and martial to you."

"There's an interesting theory," mused Garren, frowning slightly, he eyed his Lieutenant, the expert in protocol, and asked, "what say you Kipril?"

Said Kipril thoughtfully, "I don't see how it would differ from any other expert in any particular field, be it cavalry or archery, under your command, sir. You'd still be their commanding officer, but give them their heads in letting them do what they do best."

The Captain nodded with a happy smile, "thank you Lieutenant, that is immensely helpful."

"See," grinned Kipril like an imp, "you let me do the lieutenanting and allow our companion to do the literary stuff and you stand there looking important, that's what Captains do best."

"When did I join your command, sir?" said the storyteller in wonder.

"You haven't yet," grinned Garren, "but remember what I said about our odd occupation and its indifference to time?"

The bard shook his head in wonder, exchanged a pained look with the lieutenant, and turned to watch what was happening about them. The last man had finished twitching and was summarily cut down, the corpse loaded atop the others already lying in a nearby wagon, which then rumbled off to dispose of the traitors. The prince and his fabulous horse had vanished and the King stood grimly off to one side, listening to the twisted tales spouted by that dread bard, his face growing stormier by the moment.

"It's now or never," said Bren, leaving his shocked companions to dash towards the King, but they were not long in hastening after, even if they could not physically stop him in his flight, for that was an excellent way to get oneself killed!

"Easy lad," cautioned Garren, imposing himself between the audacious man and the King, "you don't want to approach with such haste, else you won't live to say a word!"

"How very foolish of me?!" said Bren in horror, "I forgot this isn't just some important villager enthroned in a local common room! No sense getting myself killed before my quest is even attempted."

They approached the King at a far more reasonable pace, slowly drifting into his immediate vicinity as he was enthralled with the nefarious tale teller, the distracted guardsmen little noticing in their preoccupation with the grim fate that had just befallen their own Captain. "Sire?" came Bren's query, "What know you of this man and the verity of his tales? He is indeed skilled in the art, but that does not make what he says true."

"Who are you?!" scowled the King, every eye, especially those of the previously indifferent guardsmen, suddenly upon this audacious man who dared importune the King in his natal grief.

"Just another man gifted in the same art, Sire," said Bren with a gracious bow, "and one who wishes to spare you the pain of bad decisions made because of untrustworthy advice." He glared significantly at the false prophet, who only smirked in cruel and supercilious triumph.

"Bad decisions?!" spat the King, "How dare you!" He glanced at the nearest guardsman and said, "smite this insolent oaf!" The man hesitated, for he was one of those who had accompanied the Captain and late prince on that most peculiar adventure, and loath was he to perpetuate further injustice this day, but at the King's increasing ire, he did as he was bidden, lest he suffer his Captain's fate. Bren crumpled to the paving stones as the soldier ran him through the abdomen, smiled the King in grim triumph, "now take that impertinent bit of carrion out of my sight!"

The soldier lifted Bren by one shoulder as Kipril came along the other side, together they carried the stricken bard from the courtyard, Garren met them outside the castle proper, holding the heads of two very boring horses. "I'm sorry," said the guardsman to the agonized Bren, "but it was the King's order!"

"I know," gasped the wounded man, "I do not hold you accountable for this regrettable affair, but I fear your King's actions and decisions will only grow worse in the coming days, can you honorably continue to serve such a man?"

"What else can I do?" said the soldier, "This is the only life I have ever known and I have vowed to protect the King and the Realm, even at the cost of my life!"

"Come with us, lad," said Garren, revealing himself to the stymied man.

"Sir?!" said he in true delight, "I thought I could just slip back into things as if nothing had happened, but either I am utterly changed, or perhaps it is the King, or both of us, but I can't simply go back, it just isn't the same." He smiled wryly, "besides, I was just ordered to see that this poor fellow troubles the King no more, so I'd even be doing my duty!"

"Have you settled your mortal affairs, lad?" asked the Lieutenant quietly, "If you come with us this time, there is no going back."

"Amen to that sir!" said the boy eagerly, "I was afraid last time, not knowing what to make of any of it, but seeing you all go so quietly to what could only be an unjust and shameful death, if a necessary one for the peace of the realm, made quite an impression on me." He sobered and said in a barely audible whisper, "I too want such confidence and hope and courage. I'll accompany you and see what lurks behind the very walls of the world!"

"Welcome aboard, lad," said the Captain, slapping him eagerly on the shoulder, "give me the wounded poet and you mount behind the lieutenant." They were quickly mounted and vanished in a brilliant flash, only to appear in a place anything but.

Bren laughed weakly, wincing painfully as a result, but smiling as he said, "this dripping ruin looks like something from one of those horrid old tales out of ancient days, back when sorcerer Kings ruled with an iron fist and their ceaseless wars nearly destroyed the world."

"You'd know more of such matters than a mere soldier," smiled the Captain sadly, "but I do not think this place was ever the seat of power for any fell necromancer, though perhaps it dates from that era. Were there any that stood against such vile powers?"

"There was one Kingdom that resisted," panted the fading poet, "but it soon crumbled when set upon by the combined might of those evil Kings." Garren slid from his horse, easily bearing the dying Bren with him, laying him gently on a stony bed. "Ugh!" cried the man in dismay, "You cannot mean to lay me in state with a sword upon my breast?"

Garren grinned ruefully, "you do not think it proper?"

"No!" said Bren wryly, "I've never wielded a sword in my life, my weapon of choice against our Master's foes was ever the literary arts!"

Kipril's hand glowed brightly in the ambient gloom and he produced, from some when or where or perhaps out of thin air itself, a book of tales peculiar to their Master. This he handed to the stricken man, who clutched it gratefully to his breast, sighing in relief, "now this is more like it..." His head fell to the side as death closed its fist about him, the next moment, he lay a stone figure in eternal repose.

The young soldier sighed heavily, "I'm really sorry, sir."

"I know lad," said Garren wistfully, studying the stone face, "but what has been done cannot be undone."

"But justice can still be meted out!" grated a harsh voice out of the whelming shadows, sending each hand to its sword hilt, as some dreadful reptilian creature clambered out of a pile of fallen stone.

"What know you of justice, creature?" demanded the Captain of the monstrosity, a sort of bipedal, dragonish thing that stood no taller than a man.

"My definition of such and yours would in nowise be the same," hissed the creature, "but I do know that any mortal that strays into my demesne is my rightful prey, which is all of the subject I wish to consider."

Kipril frowned at the beast, standing beside his own bier, "why then did you not trouble me when I lay dying beside this very stone?"

"What care I for carrion?" spat the horror in disgust, "Ever since my masters threw down this wretched Kingdom, this has been a trysting place for the dead, and I was bidden to see that it never again became a haven for the living!"

"A relic of ancient days?!" said the Captain in wonder.

The monster snorted wryly, "speak for yourself, wraith! Relic indeed! At least I still wear flesh!" He turned hungry eyes upon the young soldier and hissed, "as do you."

The young knight drew his sword and challenged, "I may be your lawful prey, monster, but I will not go to my death, meek as a lamb to slaughter!"

"Such is your right," hissed the reptile, relishing the thought of an actual fight, for he had done nothing but lurk forgotten in the shadows for years beyond count. He pounced upon the soldier, who managed to drive back its teeth and claws again and again, but his blade could not pierce that impossible, scaled hide. At last he drove his blade into the gaping mouth, knowing it left his body vulnerable to those terrible claws, but it was all he could do, lest he finally collapse in exhaustion and the monster fall upon him with impunity.

The monster keened morosely as the boy struck true, as the warrior himself screamed in agony as its flailing claws reduced him to so much carrion. The reptilian carcass twitched for several minutes before it finally realized it was dead, but Garren ignored the beast's postmortem flailings and knelt to retrieve the shredded soldier, whom he placed upon yet another stony bier, the slaughtered boy resuming his natural form as a wave of stone washed over his mauled corpse.

As the monster's twitching finally ceased, a ray of sunlight finally penetrated into that dark and dripping place, transforming it from a place of the dead to a place of veritable wonder. The low and brooding clouds that had ever stood watch in that grim locale were dispersed, as if they had never been, and the crumbling, rotten stone was suddenly gleaming marble, white as fresh snow. The poet and the guardsman suddenly appeared in a brilliant flash of light, each astride one of those wondrous horses. They offered their Captain a very proper salute before delightedly taking in the changes suddenly wrought in that erstwhile tomb.

"Not bad, lad," smiled the Captain at the newest Messenger, "it seems in slaying that thing you broke the curse that has for so long lain upon this forgotten ruin. I believe life and light and beauty might dwell here anew!"

"So say the legends," said Bren eagerly, "when this Kingdom fell, it was foretold that one day it would rise again to even greater heights of wisdom, lore, peace, and hope for all men. To think we may be instrumental in its rise?!"

"Well let's get to work!" said the Captain eagerly, and with a thought, he had summoned the balance of his command. The young soldier was welcomed eagerly amongst his old company and the bard introduced to them all.

Bren glanced drolly at the sword upon his hip, "it seems now I am a warrior indeed!"

Kipril slapped him encouragingly on the shoulder, "as the rest of us are all scholars at need."

The Captain smiled wryly at their banter and added, "but for now we are all manual laborers, let's get to work you slackers!" And with the uncanny speed and strength of their kind, they soon set the ruin in order, that with a little more thought and work, it could again house a civilization. "Now all we need are people willing to move in!" smiled the Captain in appreciative delight.

"That's the Master's business, not ours," said Kipril to his Captain, as boldly as only a long familiar lieutenant is allowed.

"Then let's be about our own business then," grinned the Captain in reply, "there's no sense puzzling over things that are not ours to accomplish!" With another thought, the Captain sent the entire party off, save Kipril, Bren, and Ithril.

"We're going to confront my father?" said the former prince.

"This then is the murdered Prince?" said the bard eagerly.

The boy smiled widely, "in another tale perhaps, but now just another comrade in arms."

"Or in words," quipped the poet, "however the case may be."

"Hush," said the Captain with a feigned sigh of exasperation, "quiet in the ranks!"

"Go easy on him sir," grinned Kipril, "he knows nothing but words."

"We'll soon rectify that," said Garren with a smile, "though he may corrupt us as much as we intend to corrupt him."

"In this occupation," agreed Kipril, "that would in nowise be a bad thing, for if we are 'Messengers,' the sensible thing would be to have some sort of communication to deliver, amongst our other duties."

"You teach me to slay monsters and I'll teach you proper diction," mused Bren, "I like it, sir," finished he with a very proper salute.

"He learns quickly at least," mused the Captain to no one in particular, adding wryly, "but then so do we all! Mount up lads, we've a Kingdom to save, at least if it will oblige us." They reined their horses around and vanished in a flutter of light-wrought wings.

Kipril bore the guise of the newest Messenger while the others rode as anonymous guardsmen, easily gaining access to the keep thereby. It was a gloomy place to spend any time whatsoever, though the sun was bright in the sky above them, but such was the atmosphere engulfing the once happy and peaceful realm, since fell things had broken that peace and threatened to fling it utterly beyond grasp, but it was the King who must decide what would come of all his folk. Would he recover from this grievous loss and reign with wisdom and integrity as had been his wont in the past, or would he descend into an utter night of grief and tyranny, dragging his realm with him?

Kipril led the way, though his comrades vanished from sight the moment they were unobserved, and went to make his report to the King, who had already forgotten the errand upon which he had sent the nameless soldier. The servant ushered him into the Royal Presence, but the King for a moment could not place the man or why he might be presenting himself thus, but a nudge from the vile storyteller, the only other person present with the King at that moment, reminded him, "ah yes, very good, continue about your duties..." He turned back to the dark man, as if entranced, eager for more of the strangely tasty, but poisonous, words with which the man enspelled him.

But Kipril did not vanish about his duties, rather his three companions became visible to mortal eyes and his own face shifted to that of the murdered Lieutenant of the Guard. "Ghosts?!" said the King in fascinated wonder, his head so full of the terrible tales of his companion, now they seemed to be appearing before his waking eyes; was he mad?

"We are quite real, father," said Ithril, placing a warm, strong hand atop his father's own.

But the King snarled and snatched away the imperiled limb, hissing, "how dare you, traitor!"

"Traitor?" smiled the boy quizzically, "And how would you come to that conclusion, from the words of a stranger who had his own part in my murder?"

The King suddenly peered skeptically at his new advisor, "but his words are honey!"

"Poisoned honey," said Ithril with a disgusted sniff, "else the victim won't swallow the bait! Would you be willingly poisoned like a greedy rat in the granary and allow the entire Kingdom to perish with you?"

"But my sons..." wept the old man, suddenly ancient indeed.

Ithril was beside his father in a moment, holding the old man as he sobbed wretchedly in the arms of his murdered son. While father and son were having their moment, the villain sidled up to the Captain and hissed, "how touching! But it will avail you nothing, my master shall be triumphant over all, even your pathetic lord!"

"Have you not read the end of your own tale?" queried the smiling Bren, "Or have you so twisted that tale too that you know not the futility of your own service?"

"Lies, all lies!" spat the fiend.

"I suppose being a servant of lies, you would even deny the very Truth to its face?" sighed the bard, "For you trust no one, not even your own fell master!"

"You ghosts have no power here," spat the villain.

"No more than you," replied Kipril with a wide smile and sparkling eyes that had seen Greater Things, far beyond the reach of this wretched man's starved and twisted imagination.

"I can kill a man, have I the wish!" hissed the fiend in triumph, "Or better yet, twist another's thoughts and emotions to such an extent that he'll do it for me!"

"So that's what you are about, is it?" snapped the King, staring at the fiend in horror at what he might have done at the fiend's behest. He gazed sadly at the four Messengers and said, "can you forgive me? Some of you I have had killed for no just cause and the rest I have besmirched your names and deeds!"

As one, they bowed formally and said, "certainly, Sire!"

"No!" hissed the irate storyteller, "Not again! My grim master shall triumph over all, including this wretched Kingdom!" He drew a knife to launch at the King, but Bren leapt between them, taking the dagger in his own heart, if he had one in such a form, but he was well beyond such philosophical musings, as he slumped dead at the King's feet.

Neither was the King silent, calling immediately for his guards and the villain's head, even as the Messengers donned the guise of nameless servants and drew to the far side of the room, the Captain rousing Bren to life anew with a glowing hand. The snarling and hissing villain was carried off to the dungeons and the King was again left to himself, save the supernumerary servants that no one else noticed any more than the pictures on the walls.

"That's quite a trick!" delighted his Majesty, as they returned to their initial conversation, and faces, which the villain had so rudely interrupted. But he added sadly, glancing wistfully at his lost son, "I suppose this means you can't come home and rule in your turn?"

"I'm sorry father," said Ithril quietly, "as my more interesting nature betrays, mortality and its attendant duties and responsibilities are now behind me."

"At least I may hear what really happened?" queried the King, "I know only those most pleasing lies that that other fellow imparted and the Captain's brief report."

The Captain began, Kipril added his part, and Ithril closed the tale, grinning hugely, "even if you do not remember it, Sire, we have indeed saved your realm from things most vile, if we could not save ourselves thereby."

The King shook his head grimly, eyeing the Captain significantly, "and you just let me hang you?"

"It was my duty, Sire," said Garren solemnly, ruining the effect with a huge grin of his own, but already having been executed for treason once that day, he dared the King's humor and said, "not that you can permanently kill me."

The King smiled in spite of himself, "it seems even beyond death, your duty, and bizarre sense of humor, remain. Now what is to come of this Kingdom of mine?"

"I'll happily remain to tell you many an ancient tale, Highness," said Bren with a bow, "and of the Joy we have found therein." He clutched at his sword, eliciting a rueful smile from himself and one of vast amusement from his Captain, as he continued, "and thereby may I also ward your Kingdom from further incursions of those undead fiends."

"A scholar and a warrior?!" said the King in wonder.

"We are all things to all men," quipped Garren, "at least we are equipped for whatever need might arise."

"What of my sons' legacy and the tale all currently believe?" asked the King.

Garren shook his head, "leave it as it is, Sire, there is no sense confusing your folk the more by changing the tale, though there are several of your guardsmen I would have a word with, if I might?"

"By all means!" said the King, "Who are these curious men, are they like unto yourselves?"

"No Sire," said Garren with a wry smile, "they are mortal men, but have had their part in our adventure, even into death itself, but were miraculously restored to life anew. They alone must be apprised of what has come to pass since we came into your presence." At the King's nod, Garren nodded at Kipril, who dashed off with his usual alacrity.

The King barked a laugh, "even in death your chain of command is unbroken, sir!"

"Our Master is Lord of order," said Garren contentedly, but added grimly, "whereas the Evil One rejoices in only destruction and chaos."

"Now what of this villainous storyteller?" queried the King.

"Deal with him as the traitor he is," said Garren bluntly, "he's a mortal man, we have no jurisdiction over his fate when there are others capable of meting out justice."

"My youngest son," sighed the King heavily.

"Indeed, Sire," said Garren sadly, "it was not my desire but rather my duty; the boy could not be allowed to return to take the crown when he had just murdered his brother and attempted to kill his own father and all his court."

"And since I knew nothing of the matter," said the King with a grim shake of his head, "I would not have believed it possible." He smiled wryly, "and the boy will be remembered as a tragic hero whereas the true hero is thought the villain!"

"Mortal glory and remembrance is nothing to us, Sire," said Ithril wistfully, "let the tale be, save to those who were involved in it." As he finished speaking, Kipril returned with the balance of their old company, each eagerly saluting the Captain and bowing low to their King.

Said his Majesty, "I believe you gentlemen are owed an explanation for the tragic events of the morning, or so your Captain tells me, for I am sure I have grievously offended your sense of justice and duty, for that please forgive me. The tale shall remain as all now know it, but to you few, let it be known that I now know the truth and rejoice therein."

Garren briefly recounted their recent adventures and added, "you may notice one of your number is missing, he has since joined ranks with the rest of us. Are any of you others so inclined?" They shared a wistful glance with one another and their Captain, but no one came forward. He smiled wistfully himself and nodded, "you've yet some living to do, and that is not a bad thing, not in the least! But if ever you see such dread things again, take heed and fetch our illustrious bard immediately, for he alone can deal with such things."

Bren stepped forward, wearing a bland face that would be his for the foreseeable future, added he with a grin, "and I am also well qualified to tell many a rousing or intriguing tale, have any of you an interest."

Garren sighed wistfully and addressed the King, "I suppose all that remains is to make our farewells, Highness."

"I suppose it is at that," sighed the King, glancing at his son, he smiled wistfully and added, "I shall miss you, lad!"

"What are all the years between now and the end of days, Sire?" queried he, with sparkling eyes, "If you yourself discover what it is I have found, then we need not be ever sundered!"

The King smiled wryly at his new court bard, "trust me, I shall delve deeply into the matter." Bren bowed formally and smiled eagerly at such an appreciative audience.

Garren and Kipril exchanged farewells with their former companions, they caught Ithril's eye, and then all vanished from mortal perception, save the now resident Bren. And at the King's behest, he soon told his tales to the entire populous of the castle and the surrounding city, much easing many a grieved heart throughout that temporarily benighted realm.

As the nefarious storyteller moldered in his cell, plotting his vengeance, a great raven lit on the window outside the grating and demanded, "what are you doing in there?"

"I was foiled in my attempts by some goody-goody ghosts that can do naught but preach goodness and light to all comers!" spat the dark bard.

"Yes," hissed the stygian fowl, "I had not anticipated that my Enemy would raise up a defense against my ultimate weapons, but so he has, and apparently he is not content to use them as mindless swords, rather he would have them meddle deeply in affairs not his own!" He pierced the prisoner with his too keen gaze, "I will have my own villains to counter them, creatures that can guise themselves as mortal men and meddle at all levels of society, difficult to detect and impossible to destroy! And you shall be the first such." The villain writhed in pain and terror as the Fiend worked his dark wonders, but not a sound escaped him, lest he attract the attention of the guards.

They came to fetch him some hours later, by then he had regained control of his faculties and physical form, he hid his triumphant smile, lest he put them on their guard, for no man in his circumstances should be able to muster any sort of smile, save a sickly, morbid thing, but his usually dour personality couldn't even contrive that much in such a circumstance. They hauled him ignominiously before the King and his Council and the entire Court, he was branded, quite truthfully, as the worst sort of traitor and condemned to death, to be dealt out then and there. A guardsman approached the kneeling prisoner, a naked sword in his hand, but as he struck, the prisoner laughed him to scorn, for the mortal weapon hurt him no more than a sunbeam, but he was in nowise so gentle with the executioner. He tossed the stricken man aside, breathing harshly through his ruined throat, and glanced triumphantly at the horrified mass of people about him, only to collapse with a sword in his back, as Bren attacked from behind while the fiend basked in the horror of his audience.

Bren straightened as his victim fell to ash, said he to the King, "I fear he is one of those fiendish things that have infested your Kingdom all too often of late, Sire and wrought such tragedy during so short a tenure." He looked upon the gasping guardsman and said, "if I may, I'll attend to your guardsman?" The King's eyes were wide in horror, but he motioned that the man might do as he had proposed.

Bren scooped up the dying man and trotted out of the great hall, a path opening in the crowd before him like water before the bow of a boat. His horse met him in the corridor just outside the door, and faster than thought, they found themselves in a beautiful ruin, its marble gleaming in the moonlight. "Are you ready for an adventure, lad?" asked Bren in a voice quiet but eager, of the moribund boy, one of those who had accompanied the ill-fated Prince on his dire quest.

He could not speak, for the monster had utterly crushed his throat in its grasp, uncannily strong, but he nodded and hope shone in his eyes, at least until the life faded therefrom and he slumped in the arms of his companion. Bren sadly laid the dead form upon the nearest marble slab, the place seemed replete with them for some reason, and then returned to his post, wondering how many of the Captain's original company would inevitably be drawn into this strange profession.

"There's one Kingdom saved, sir," said Kipril calmly, as if making a routine report about some trifling detail to his Captain.

"For now," said Garren thoughtfully, "but what is a Kingdom of men to us, or to anyone beyond history's clumsy grasp? For is it not the soul of man that lives forever, rather than any passing culture, tribe, or nation?"

"But it is the realm the historians consider important," agreed the Lieutenant pensively, smiling wryly he added, "how utterly myopic have I been to agree with them!"

"Such is a common failing of men, particularly those in any sort of position of leadership: it is not the individual but the entity that is important, the King's Guard or the Kingdom," nodded Garren, "but our eyes have finally been opened, and we are blind no longer, my friend!"

"Now what?" asked the Lieutenant, "Are we to sit atop this hill philosophizing until all this valley is peopled and a new civilization arises therefrom?"

"Probably not," grinned Garren in anticipation, "I know little of this odd profession, but so far it has not been our business to 'stand and wait,' as was our wont as mortal men."

The horses snorted eagerly and threw themselves down the steep bank with all the impunity of a cataract racing towards the sea, with as little concern for the safety of the men aback them, but as that was a non-issue, heedless of all such risk they could be. Laughed Kipril in delight, "at least our mounts seem to know what we are about!"

As night gathered about them, no impediment to their strange eyes, they came upon a lad setting up a sparse and lonely camp, he clutched nervously at his sword when he heard the creak of leather, the clank of their harness and swords, and the crunch of hooves upon the stony ground. "Easy lad," said Garren reassuringly, "we mean you no harm. Indeed, might we be of service?"

"Perhaps," said the boy, only reluctantly moving his hand away from his sword hilt, "who is your Lord and Master? In whose service are you abroad in such a forgotten place and why?"

"We serve no mortal lord," said Garren openly, "and what brings us to this place and time, even we know not."

"Mercenaries? Bandits? Rogues?" asked the boy skeptically.

"None of the above," said Kipril in equal vehemence.

"Dear friends, adventure bent or upon a quest unknown," mused Garren, "would likely be the best description. We quitted our homeland as honorably and nobly as a warrior can, but can no longer call it home, wanderers that we have become."

"Yet you recognize no mortal lord?" said the boy pensively, "Why those particular words? Have you a Lord of the immortal sort? Be ye fiends or saints or the servants of some lesser god?"

"We're men, pure and simple," replied Garren bluntly, "very servants of the Master, but men still."

"Well," said the boy, all easy smile, "then I shall call you brothers! Well met indeed, my friends! For it is this very thing which has driven me from my homeland and rightful crown into the wilderness, that I hope to escape my grasping uncle's henchmen and dreadful allies."

"Fiends no mortal blade can stay?" asked Kipril grimly, unwittingly clutching at his own sword.

"Yes!" said the boy in wonder, "Have you encountered such things in the wide world?"

"Our own Kingdom was recently attacked by such monsters," said Garren gravely, "while the realm was saved, the King is bereft of his sons and many a good man was lost likewise."

"And yet you would abandon them?" said the boy, aghast.

"They are not unwarded," said Garren stonily.

"Forgive my ignorant judgment, sir," replied the boy abashedly, "I just could not imagine two such noble seeming warriors leaving their homeland in such a desperate hour."

"The world is far bigger than our little Kingdom and these fiends respect neither boundaries nor laws," said Kipril, "and we are bidden to fight them wherever they dare show themselves, hence our wanderings!"

"What can you tell us of matters in your Kingdom?" asked Garren.

"My uncle, the King's brother, killed my father with the aid of such vile fiends and took the crown for himself, as I am not yet of age and his evil allies will certainly make an end of me should I try and thwart his schemes," said the boy sadly, "forcing me to flee, lest when his reign is secure, he remembers that I might be a hindrance to him one day."

"Would you return and claim your father's crown or do you flee to someplace in particular with another goal in mind?" queried Kipril.

"I thought to seek out a long lost Kingdom," said the boy wanly, as if afraid his companions would think him a fool for believing in fairy tales, but then they were self-proclaimed servants of a Lord many thought equally a myth, more boldly he asserted, "in ancient days it stood for all that was good and right and beautiful, and I thought perhaps I might establish myself therein and restore what has been lost, that it may serve as a haven and a refuge in these ever darkening days. Especially as you tell me that it is not my Kingdom alone that has suffered at the hands of evil."

"We have seen this place you speak of," said Garren solemnly, "indeed, it has only recently been freed from the dominion of an ancient evil, set to ward it against just such an eventuality. Gladly would we accompany you thence, if you would have us?"

"Certainly!" said the boy in delight, "Let us press thither will all speed upon the morrow, know you the way?"

Kipril was about to say, that no, in fact they did not, but then the sudden awareness grew in his mind, that as that was what they needed, it would certainly be provided, said he with a knowing smile, "we shall gladly lead you thence!"

"Excellent," said the boy, "I have not much by way of provisions, but you are welcome to share what I have."

Garren shook his head, "nay lad, let us be of such service to you, well provided as we are!" What was necessary indeed!, thought Kipril with greatest joy.

A few days later, they clattered into the shining courtyard, so orderly and beautiful, one might think it had been tidied and repaired but the day before in preparation of his coming, and with the odd way time flowed in their profession, it might well have been! The boy dismounted and gazed about in delight, "this is far more wonderful than even my wildest imaginings!" His eyes fell upon the many empty marble slabs standing about like so many too tall benches; he glanced about in puzzlement, until he discovered to what use each might be put. His eyes narrowed as he studied the sleeping statue, a book clutched in his hands, "who then is this? Why so many empty monuments to the honored dead?"

"These stony beds shall be filled, one by one, in the ensuing years," said Garren prophetically, "thereon shall lie the mortal remains, though stone they too shall become, of men slain in the Master's service. Their spilled blood shall protect this natal Kingdom from such undead fiends as invaded both our own Kingdoms."

Kipril smiled in delight, "so there shall be no need for us to ward this place every waking moment?!"

"Indeed," said Garren, but glancing about at the sheer number of marble biers, he added grimly, "though it seems our enemies shall soon be quite busy, to their own detriment!"

The Prince said nothing but listened attentively to the exchange, walking about the spacious courtyard as he did so, frowning from one particular stone warrior to the Captain and back again. Garren barked a laugh, "noticed a similarity, have you lad? And so it is, but you need fear no ghosts! We are simply men beyond time and death in the Master's service, sent to aid those who have need of us in one way or another."

Smiled the boy keenly, "so you are one of the honored dead?"

"I wouldn't say that," laughed Kipril, "you might as well say we are fence posts to keep wayward evil from straying in! There were nearly two dozen men struck down at the same time and in the same manner as ourselves; we are of no greater value or valor than our murdered comrades. I know not why we received such an interment and they did not, but I do not think it much matters in the grand scheme of things." He glanced amusedly at his own bier, "for our mortal shell is but the least part of us, a mere garment shed like the cocoon of some winged insect!"

"That is a relief," grinned the boy, "I was afraid we must be ever grave and solemn, as if this unquickened Kingdom's heart was a veritable tomb!"

"Do we not serve the very Master of Joy?" quipped Kipril, "Such solemnity has its place, certainly, but it is not a chronic condition."

The stars were bright overhead and she could not help herself, so long had she dwelt under those ancient and glowering trees, she just had to take a look at that mythic and mysterious phenomenon men call the heavens, but alas for the poor shepherd boy, who at that moment was upon the verge of the Wood in search of a lost sheep. For if there was one thing the elfin folk hated more than mortal men, it was their so-called prophecies: their arrogant presumption that they could write history in advance, especially about races and lands and events of which they knew nothing! So they did everything in their power to make sure that at least one fatal predication about their kind never came to pass, for their King would never countenance such an eventuality, no matter what old prophets had sung; there was no way in the world or beyond it that he would allow his daughter to marry a mortal! So it was that everywhere she went and upon all the borders of the elfin lands, unbeknownst to her, a watch and guard was kept to prevent just such an incursion of any mortal folk into business not their own.

So it was the elfin princess stepped out of the veiling Wood to gaze upon the stars and the shepherd boy found himself pierced through with an elvish arrow. He gasped in pain and slumped into darkness, but the lady heard his moribund sigh and rushed to his side, weeping as she ran. She knelt on one side of the stricken boy and found herself eye to eye with another man, this one kneeling on the lad's other side. His grieved eyes held such hope, joy, wisdom, and humor in their depths that she could not help but envy him a little and like him very much. He glanced about quickly, his keen eyes catching the glint of starlight on at least three more arrowheads, but the lady's presence directly before him blocked their deadly aim, at least for the moment.

"Milady," whispered Bayard, "are you up for an adventure?"

"Yes, please!" said she in quiet delight, but turning pitiful eyes upon the dead child of men, she wept, "But what about this poor boy?"

Suddenly a great horse stood beside her, all lit through like sunset clouds, and she was aback him in a moment; Bayard handed her the corpse and ordered the horse to be about his business. He protested only a moment to thus abandon his rider, and then they were gone, the elves rushing from the cover of their Wood with shouts of surprise and fury, arrows nocked and ready. "You will come with us," snarled their captain, shoving Bayard towards the Wood.

"Be easy, gentlemen," said the boy calmly, doing his utmost to quash the excited and eager grin that wished to spill forth, "I shall accompany you without fuss or struggle."

"What fell magic did you use to ensorcel the Princess and steal her from us?" hissed their Captain, as they vanished beneath the shadows of the trees.

Bayard smiled wryly, "if it is sorcery to ask if the Lady was ready for an adventure, we are all of us condemned as the vilest workers of the black arts!"

They cuffed him, hard, for his seeming insolence, but he only smiled the more. Let the King deal with the villain! They continued on in silence, Bayard marveling at the ambiance of the so-called Fairywood about him, for in the stories it was everything joyous and bright, but to him it looked and felt as gloomy as those old ruins wherein the Captain had been interred, at least at the first; no wonder the Lady was eager to leave!

After an interminable march through those gloomy and endless trees, at last they clove through the elfin city, quite a sight to the boy's human sensibilities, but nothing too astonishing after his glimpse of things beyond the walls of the world. They took in his appreciation of the sights around him but goggled at his complete and utter lack of goggling, mortal boy that he seemed, but who knew what to expect of such a magician?

At last they entered what once might have been a bright and glorious palace, but was now little more than a moss draped cave, dark with countless years and grim thoughts. He bowed politely to the Elvin King upon his ugly throne, which might have been as splendid as his castle in forgotten years, but was now as ghastly as the rest of his moldering kingdom. He felt a blade pierce his abdomen from behind, as the captain ordered, "on your knees, wretch!"

A mortal man would have collapsed in agony with such a grievous wound, but a strange light, bright in the ambient gloom, flared forth the moment the insulting weapon was withdrawn, healing any mischief the blade had wrought upon his person. The elves all jumped back in horror and astonishment, now more certain than ever that a dread warlock was among them. Said the King at last, tired of their antics, "what is this about, captain? Where is my daughter? What is this mortal doing here?"

"He has spirited away your only child, milord," said the Captain with a formal bow to his King, "we could get no answer from him, and as you have observed yourself, he is a worker of foul magicks!"

"What have you to say for yourself, boy?" snarled the King.

The boy merely blinked at him and said respectfully, "I am simply a Messenger, Sire."

"What if I were to say that your death would be miserable indeed and years in the process!" spat the King.

Bayard's boyish mortal guise melted away, revealing a dreadful warrior, lit all through from within by a cool light, like moonlight through mist, said he quietly, "a mortal man need taste of death only once, Sire, and that have I already done." He clothed himself again in mortality and bowed deeply, "your daughter chose to leave of her own volition, no doubt tired of the ambient gloom in which your folk are wont to dwell. You have also murdered an innocent boy in an effort to thwart Prophecy, what have you to say upon that grievous matter?"

The King shrugged, "what is one mortal more or less? They are to us what mice are to you: odious, noisome things!"

Bayard sighed heavily and said, "the doom you have freely chosen is punishment enough, alas for all your folk! But remember, when you tire of dwelling in the shadow of death, there is a brighter morning promised for those that trust Him!" There came a rush of wind and a clatter of hooves upon the stony floor and a cheerful light, as of a spring morning, and there stood his wondrous horse. He leapt aback the splendid creature and vanished as suddenly as the Lady, leaving the grim and grumbling elves to curse the fiend and his terrible words.

That peculiar horse appeared suddenly in a beautiful palace, or rather the ruins thereof, wrought all of white stone. She slid from his back as another man approached at the run, to help her with her grim cargo. Kipril took the slain boy in his arms and laid him upon the nearest stone bed, eliciting a little gasp from the Lady as his still form was suddenly as cold, stiff, and white as the stone upon which it lay. "Who or what are you people?" said she at last.

"Men," said Kipril quietly, "merely men, though beyond the reach of death and time."

"Immortal men?!" said she in wonder.

Kipril gazed at her wistfully, "we are all meant for immortality, milady, though the mortal race must first die before it is granted to us. Come, I shall introduce you to the master of this castle."

She followed him through many a winding corridor, until at last they came to a splendid garden, or what would one day be a fabulous garden, once the insult and chaos of countless years had been remedied, but for the moment it was a rather crowded wilderness of eager young trees and scrubby plants that had grown up wherever they found a place to root. Kipril bowed smartly to a young man sitting upon a cracked marble bench, an ancient book in his lap, the boy stood at once and gave the Lady a courteous bow, saying, "welcome milady, welcome indeed!"

"What is this place?" asked she.

"The ruin of an ancient Kingdom, milady," said the boy, "the forgotten root from which another realm is foretold to spring, one that will surpass the other in glory, goodness, splendor, and wisdom as a summer morning trumps a winter night."

"How very exciting!" said she happily, "How can I help?" His eager smile was a perfect imitation of her own.

Ithril and Kyan rode along a pleasant little lane, in no particular hurry to get anywhere, but the main thoroughfare through that distant part of a certain realm in which a nefarious uncle had just murdered his brother and stolen the crown, and over whom worser things had an inordinate amount of influence. "A storm is brewing," said the former Prince, though the day about him was bright and beautiful without the least hint of rain.

"Hence our presence," smiled Kyan grimly, "that the people may be warned ere the tempest breaks."

"I doubt they'll listen to the pontifications of two such boys!" said Ithril in wonder.

"We are Messengers," quipped his companion, "have you no experience with the miraculous?"

"Indeed," grinned the boy ruefully, "I have seen far stranger things than men fifty years my senior listening earnestly to our words!"

They continued on, lost in their own musings, before drawing rein at the local inn that night. They found a storyteller therein, avidly regaling the indifferent patrons with many a rousing tale of their Master. He seemed indifferent to their apathy and kept at it until the last tired farmer stumbled out the door, intent on his bed. He smiled wryly and took a seat beside the two quiet lads, who had been attentive, if silent, the entirety of the night. "What are you lads about?" queried he with a friendly smile, "Adventure bent in the wide world?"

"No," said Ithril, "we are harbingers of doom."

"Ah," smiled the man in amusement, thinking the lad was leading him on, "you are veritable legends set to plunge this quiet little land into the great tales?"

"You know?!" said Kyan in astonishment, still very much a young and inexperienced man, myth though he be.

The man eyed the boy in wonder, "I was only teasing lad! Are you telling me that is precisely your quest?"

"Yes," said Ithril, "we've come to warn all such folk that their Kingdom is about to be plunged into utter night, and those that will, should flee forthwith."

"Whither would they go?" asked the confounded teller of tales.

"Was there not a Kingdom, now lost to all but song and story, that was said to offer such a refuge, at least back in the days when the Sorcerer Kings ruled in absolute terror?" asked Ithril.

"And it is said it will rise again to even greater heights!" said the sage in growing eagerness, "You tell me the time has come?!" At their eager nods, he said joyously, "then you are not harbingers of doom, but rather bring tidings of greatest joy!"

"But it is a dark hour for the world, and for this Kingdom in particular," said Ithril quietly.

"But they stand not alone!" protested the storyteller, "Your presence is evidence enough of that! Shadows and darkness will come lad, for we dwell in a broken world, fraught with death, but we have been promised a brighter morning, one in which tears are forgot and death a myth!" Said he in a wistful voice, "oh, to see the promise fulfilled!"

"Off with you then," smiled Ithril, his eyes alight with very joy, "take my horse; I believe they'll have as much need of you as you have a wish to see that Kingdom's birth!" He had no words, a strange phenomenon for a man in his occupation, but he shook both their hands in jubilant silence, and then hastened from the inn, much delighted by the fiery steed and his uncanny swiftness, returning to his master almost before he had left.

They traveled throughout that country, as did many of their comrades, proclaiming to everyone that a tyrant had treasonously taken the throne, helped by fiends against which no mortal could hope to stand. They also spoke of a rising Kingdom, where such fell things could in nowise intrude, where justice, peace, and wisdom would be firmly established, and where their own rightful King would reign in truth. As the days darkened in that land, and evil tales began to spread of their new King and his foul allies, so did many hearken to these least of all Messengers, and fearing the rising darkness at home far more than the uncertainties of this promised Kingdom, so it was many fled thence.

"I don't believe it," said an oily fellow, lounging at his own table that particular night at the local inn.

"You don't believe anything," retorted an intrigued farmer around the stem of his pipe, "you never have and you never will! You wouldn't believe the sky was blue unless you were outside beneath it on a clear day! What of the rumors we hear from every direction and source? They can't all of them be wrong!"

"I'm sure there's a kernel of truth in the mix," huffed the oily fellow, "but most of it is just hearsay, amplified by every goodwife whose lips the tale passes! What does it matter to us, a change in the Kingship? Do you truly believe in monsters under the bed?"

"He's no fool if he does," said Kyan bluntly, "save they aren't content to hide under the bed but stalk the waking world!"

"How would you know, boy?" spat the greasy man.

"I've seen them," said the boy quietly.

"You?!" laughed the man contemptuously, "The inside of the local tavern is about as much excitement as you've ever experienced in your brief life!"

"I was in the King's Guard," said the boy stonily, "not in this particular Kingdom, but my own was likewise invaded by just such horrors!"

"And did you flee like a coward as you encourage all the folk in this land to do?" sneered the man.

"I did my duty," said the boy quietly, "as I am doing it now. In my own land, the creatures were repulsed and the King remained a just and honorable man. Here, the creatures remain at your King's behest and he naught but a tyrant and usurper. There is nothing ahead but darkness and death for those who choose to remain. Though the cost was dear, the folk in my own land have a chance to reestablish themselves and live as men ought; here there is only death."

"That's enough for me," said the farmer, tapping out his pipe, "I'm going home this moment to start packing." He glanced hopefully at the boy, "whither did you say we could flee?" Kyan told him, he nodded his thanks, and dashed from the inn, many of his neighbors and friends also rose, though less hastily, and also seemed intent on doing likewise.

Protested the only heckler, "where are you going? Can you truly believe this unwashed boy?!" But they paid him no heed, for they heard the truth in his words and had shuddered to think the rumors that had reached their far flung village could be even half true. The inn was empty, save for Kyan, the cantankerous man, and the far too thoughtful innkeeper, but sensing something ugly might be brewing between the local crank and the uncanny boy, he wisely found something to do elsewhere, leaving the two alone. "What are you up to, boy?" spat the increasingly angry man, "What benefit can it be to you to scare witless folk?"

"It is my duty, sir, and that is all," said Kyan quietly, "I can merely warn and encourage, the results depend upon their own decisions."

"Leave these heedless sheep to me, boy!" snarled the fiend, for he was a cantankerous man no longer, not with that contorted and twisted countenance, a livid mockery of a living man, "Mind your own business and leave us be!"

The boy drew his sword and set himself, "are you going to make me, fiend?"

"You're a bold one, lad, I will give you that," said the thing in contempt, "but crossing swords with anyone, even a mere lad like you, is not my way of doing things." As the boy gasped in pain and collapsed with a knife in his back, the man smiled fiendishly at his comrade, "we lurk in shadows, manipulate emotions, stab you in the back!"

"Hardly honorable," said another voice, "but then what is one to expect from the sordid minions of such a grim master?" The two fiends turned suddenly to see another bland boy standing in the open doorway of the inn, sword in hand, continued Ithril, "but then this is not our first encounter with such horrors."

"I'll show you horrors!" hissed the first fiend, "Have you any idea of the powers with which you are dealing?"

"Quite," smiled Ithril dryly, "have we not fought such fiends from one end of this Kingdom to the other?"

"You're naught but a witless boy," sneered the fiend in disinterest, looking again like his old greasy self, hardly to be recognized as an undead minion of evil.

"I may be a boy," said Ithril indifferently, "but I am hardly witless." He leapt upon the pair of them, sword flashing, though the second fiend managed to bury a dagger in the Prince's heart before he fell to that terrible blade; they collapsed together into darkness, the fiends falling to ash and the boys vanishing in a flash of light. When the innkeeper emerged from his errands in the kitchen, he found only an empty common room, but instead of beginning the long process of putting it in order, rather he stood there for no little time, lost deep in thought, it was insane, but the words of those strange boys strangely stirred his aging heart. Could he do it, just uproot and leave at his age? He smiled grimly as the thought occurred to him, it seemed most of his patrons were intent on doing just that, which meant even if he chose to stay, his livelihood was about to go adventuring anyway so he might as well follow. They'd need a decent inn in this young Kingdom after all!

"What do you mean half the country has emigrated?" spat the new King in disgust at the indifferent fiend that had brought him word of events in the outlying provinces of the realm.

"Evil rumors have reached them of happenings in the palace and city," shrugged the fiend, that looked nothing more interesting than an ordinary man, "and there have been strangers abroad telling them of better things in a distant land, saying only darkness and death awaited them here."

"To which distant land are these gullible refugees fleeing?" grated the King.

The thing smiled mockingly, "it isn't even a proper country, rather it is a ruin leftover from ancient days!"

"But a place not infested with fell things," spat the King, adding with a wicked smile, "yet."

"They are coming! They are coming!" sang out the voice of a boy, dashing joyously into the courtyard of the palace, every day looking more and more a place that might actually house men.

"Who is coming, lad?" asked the young Prince.

"People, lots of people!" said the boy, quite literally bouncing up and down in excitement. The Prince exchanged an eager smile with Kipril as both hastened after the boy. And there they were, quite a crowd of people: milling about, setting up camp, discussing amongst themselves, glancing around curiously.

"I guess this Kingdom has just become real!" said the Prince in wonder, "I had best go speak with our new citizens!" He dashed down the hill and went to address the seeming leader of the great company, while Kipril suddenly felt an urge to discuss matters with the Captain, vanishing back to the courtyard with a thought.

"The people have come," mused Garren upon hearing the Lieutenant's news, "which means our enemies will not be far behind."

"This courtyard is well protected," said Kipril pensively, "but what of the outlying lands?"

Garren smiled down at the sleeping bard, "perhaps it is time some of our statuary relocated?"

"That would be a relief," grinned Kipril, "I do feel a little self-conscious having to explain things to every stranger who traipses through the courtyard and notices a resemblance. It would be far better for that relic to molder forgotten in some wild corner of the Kingdom!"

"I didn't think Lieutenants ever had vanity that needed soothing?" said the Captain in surprise.

"Quite true, sir," smiled Kipril, "we are so busy doing just that for our commanding officer that we have no time to even think about our own, but now that you're a Messenger, that service is no longer required, thus I can pay a little heed to my own shortcomings."

Garren quirked a skeptical brow, "if I'm beyond such mortal failings, I have no doubt that you are too, unless you've suddenly changed occupations?"

"Oh, to be a mortal Lieutenant again?!" chuckled Kipril in horrified glee, "Why had I not thought of that before! Alas for my lost vanity!"

"I believe you missed your calling as a thespian," said the Captain with a wry shake of his head, "but come, Lieutenant, we have work to do."

"At least in this I have other talents that might avail us, even if my vanity is forever lost," nodded Kipril, placing a glowing hand on the nearest stone sleeper and vanishing therewith in a flash of light, reappearing on some distant border of the ancient kingdom, now swallowed by wilderness. He saw that everything was in order and then returned to the castle, to repeat the process several times with several of his comrades in stone.

"That certainly de-clutters the courtyard a bit," smiled the Lieutenant when they had returned to the keep, "but there are still quite a few empty biers."

He glanced significantly at the Captain, who said quietly, "I'm sure we're far from finished in our recruiting efforts, lad, but it seems even our deaths can be of use to our Master and His people, so what is there to fear in that?"

"To men of our perspective, nothing," agreed Kipril, "but I wonder what all the future occupants of those slabs will think prior to their interment?"

"Probably the exact same thing we were thinking," grinned the Captain wryly, "which isn't much with death staring you in the face."

"I suppose not," chuckled the Lieutenant, "we'll just have to trust Him in this, as in all things."

"What do you mean you can't invade that preposterous little upstart Kingdom?" demanded that evil uncle of a King of the shrugging fiend before him.

"We can't venture thither," hissed the thing, "it's as if there is a great, invisible wall between us and that pathetic little realm; neither can we simply appear within the ancient borders of that land."

"Then we'll do this the old fashioned way," smiled that uncle grimly, "if you undead monstrosities can't handle this yourselves, I suppose it is up to us mortal folk."

"No," said Garren, standing suddenly in the room with the fiendish pair, "you are hereby informed that any attempts to overthrow the natal Kingdom will be met with utter disaster on the attacker's part."

"Aren't you a pestiferous little bird," mocked the King, "what makes you think I will believe you?"

Garren shrugged, "the decision is ever yours, but you cannot say I did not warn you when things go ill."

"Are you just going to let this impertinent fellow intrude upon our private conversation?" snapped the villainous King at the undead minion.

"He'll be gone as soon as he's delivered his message," shrugged the fell thing, "why bother trying to physically remove such a pest?"

"Because he is impudent, you fool!" snarled the King, "Get rid of him this instant!"

"You would be better served to listen to your companion," grinned Garren, as boldly as rumor held him to be, and vanishing therewith.

The King frowned at the empty corner in puzzlement and addressed the fiend again, "who or what was that?"

"Their so-called master's answer to such things as myself," shrugged the fiend.

"You are not as invincible as I was promised you were?" grated the mortal fiend.

"What is a promise from the Father of Lies!" scorned the monstrosity, vanishing in its own turn, leaving said uncle to sit alone and muse upon the future and what he dared, and didn't, therein.

So it was the ancient Kingdom was reestablished and allowed the chance to grow, to put down roots, and to flourish as it had not since another age of the world, now lost in the mists of time. But once it had fully established itself, when the King's rule and reign were secure and his people flourishing, then it must be allowed to grow or crumble in its own right, for the Master's hand, which had protected it through all those first vulnerable decades, was soon to be removed.

"It's time you learned to walk, lad," said Garren to the King one evening as they walked in the reclaimed palace gardens under the stars.

The man shuddered, but nodded grimly, "I suppose we could not go on indefinitely with such blessings and protections in place. We must face the dangers within and without, as must all the realms of the world. I will miss you, my friend!"

The Captain smiled warmly, "nay lad, this isn't goodbye, indeed, you may see me or my comrades far more frequently than you would like. With the crumbling of the supernatural protections around this Kingdom, our perennial foes will feel free to meddle and ever shall we be there to interfere in their plots!"

"Bren?!" said the dying bard to his brother, who knelt beside the arrow pierced man in astonishment, "Still alive, are you?"

The Messenger smiled wistfully, "not in many a long year, Tobin."

"One of them, are you?" coughed the sage.

"Familiar with the Messengers, are you?" queried Bren of the moribund man.

"I should be," laughed Tobin painfully, "serving the King of Itharia as I have all these years as his court bard. Your folk are almost permanent residents in that wondrous realm!" He glanced sadly at the dead boy not far from where he lay, "that's the youngest Prince, determined to be a scholar and master of ancient lore in his own turn, but it only got him killed."

"There are greater things beyond life than death," smiled Bren joyously, "but I need not tell you that."

"That you do not," sighed the man in agony, as if about to plunge into a bottomless abyss, which is death itself to mortal sensibilities, "but I won't be joining your little circus, I've had my fill of this wretched place and long to see what lies beyond it!" He plunged into the gaping chasm of darkness before him, slumping with glazing eyes in his brother's arms. Bren smiled wistfully and stood, wondering what was best to be done with the dead. As he touched his brother, that marvelous light stirred unbidden and the body vanished therewith, leaving only the dead prince to be taken home to his unwitting father. Bren scooped up the murdered lad, flung himself aback his wondrous steed, and vanished in the twinkling of an eye.

There was the familiar courtyard, but this time all was wrought of plain grey stone, not the shining marble of previous days; Bren wondered at the sudden change, as he lay the boy upon one of the few remaining stone biers, most had already been filled during the fifty odd years since the Captain had first come to rest therein. "Alas for the King!" came Kipril's dismayed voice as he hastened into the courtyard to see Bren's sad burden.

"That he has lost one of his sons?" queried Bren of the Lieutenant.

The man shook his head sadly, "nay, that he has lost both his sons! I come from the southern frontier, whence the eldest was leading a small patrol. His men were slaughtered and he carried alive into the heart of the King's former homeland."

"That Kingdom of evil and death?!" said Bren in horror, "Whose King maintains his life through the worst sort of blood magic and necromancy?"

"Even so," said Kipril dejectedly, "such will be the boy's fate and we are forbidden from rescuing him!"

Bren glanced about at the grey stones and the dead prince and asked, "what have come of the protections said to keep all such evil from this blessed land?"

"The time has come for them to stand or fall upon their own power and choices," said Kipril quietly, "they are now vulnerable to all the evils and trials that stalk the mortal world and the Kingdoms thereof."

As they spoke, the King returned and looked upon these grief-stricken men in wonder, for such gloomy faces were not often seen in a realm so unusually blessed with Joy. Then his eyes fell upon the body of his youngest son and he collapsed to his knees in grief. Said Kipril wretchedly, "this is not the only evil Sire, indeed, your eldest has also perished at the hands of your Uncle, whose fell minions took him captive this side of your southern borders." The King looked pleadingly to Kipril, for he had no voice, the man nodded and said, "I shall fetch the Queen!"

That elfin lady came with all haste, the tears in her eyes becoming a river when she saw the reason for her husband's grief. He slowly gained his feet, like a man ten thousand years old, and embraced his overwrought wife, asked he like a dead branch creaking in a bitter wind, "what is to come of us?"

Kipril said quietly, "you must continue on, Sire, as ever we must through whatever tragedy, evil, or grief besets us. I do not say you cannot grieve, but you must not let your grief turn to bitterness and anger, lest it destroy you and your Kingdom."

"But I now have no heir," sighed the King heavily.

"But are you not to reign for five hundred years?" asked Bren, having heard the tales of this strange land, if having been there very little during his career thus far.

"I am at that," wondered the man wistfully, smiling sadly upon his wife, an expression not untouched by joy, "such was the gift bestowed when I wed an elfin lady!"

"At least that question will not immediately press upon you as sorely as it did upon my own lord," said Bren sadly. At the King's questioning look, he told of the realm in which he had served so long as resident bard and master of lore, much as his brother had done for this very King. Adding, "the old King has finally died, but bereft of his sons, some unworthy great nephew has been crowned and immediately dismissed me and all like minded folk from his court, saying he needed no such nonsense. Alas for his realm!"

"And alas for Tobin!" cried the King, "He was a worthy fellow and now we shall see him no more!"

Bren smiled wistfully, "as I am currently unemployed, Highness, might I seek to fill his place?"

"Certainly," smiled the King sadly, "and I suppose you will now ward me and mine as ever you warded your former master?"

Bren nodded, "certainly, Highness, for now too is your court vulnerable to an incursion of such vile things!"

"What of us?" came two voices their parents thought never again to hear in the waking world.

Said the eldest erstwhile Prince, "you have not replaced us already father, and for a reason so silly as death?"

Smiled the younger, "come Sire, you cannot be rid of us that easy now, can you?"

The ecstatic couple ran to embrace their sons, now alive beyond all death and sorrow, if of a rather uncanny nature, but so used to the odd antics of their sons' new comrades were they, that it mattered not. After the tearful and joyous reunion, the younger said eagerly, "as the position of court bard is already filled, I suppose I must content myself with my original fate: to be a traveling storyteller throughout the realm."

Kipril clapped him encouragingly on the shoulder, "but this time you won't be vulnerable to every mediocre assassin that thinks to silence you!"

"But I shall miss Tobin keenly," sighed the boy wistfully.

"Only for a little while," smiled Bren through his tears, "and think of the tales we'll have to regale him with!"

Said the eldest, "I would also like to continue in my duties, Sire, if that is agreeable to you?"

Chuckled the older man, "at least I don't have to worry about whom to marry the pair of you off to, and most heartily will I welcome your aid in these ever darkening days." He frowned pensively at his eldest son and asked, "you were borne alive into the dark heart of my former home?"

"Yes, Sire," said the boy with a shudder at the memory, "and terrible it was. I thought myself lucky to have so short a residence there, alas for those who call it home! Everywhere is death and darkness, shame and sorrow and misery. The people are little more than slaves, they have no rights or property, their masters can abuse or kill them as they please. Even death seemed joyous by comparison to such a life!"

"They will be looking to invade our land, now that our miraculous protections are removed," said the King gravely, he eyed his eldest son and asked, "are we ready?"

"Yes, Sire," said the boy eagerly, "long have we known such a day would come and everyone has been keen in preparation thereof. We can have an army mounted and ready to ride as soon as we can get word to our folk! Though I fear there are worse than men intent on invading us!"

Kipril smiled grimly in anticipation, "leave that to us, my friend! Though the uncanny protections granted to this realm in its infancy have been removed, your people are not forsaken nor forgotten. Neither has our Master been lax in His preparations for this day." He glanced at the stone prince upon his eternal bed, one of many throughout that strange Kingdom, "He too has been recruiting through the quiet years of peace."

Kipril summoned the Captain with a glowing hand, after taking in the scene in the courtyard, Garren smiled grimly and said, "it is time, is it?" He summoned the balance of his command, quite filling that great courtyard, said he, "disperse throughout this vast Kingdom and tell everyone that the time is at hand!" They exchanged an eager smile and vanished, save the original occupants of the courtyard and the Captain himself.

"War?!" said the King in horrified wonder, "I did not think it would come upon us so soon!"

Garren shook his head, "our enemies have been champing at the bit since the day they heard this Kingdom would rise anew, only the Master's providence has allowed it to flourish at all! Now that that hindrance is removed, they shall rush upon you like water from a burst dam."

"Then it is a very good thing we have long prepared for this day," nodded the King sadly, but adding hopefully, "perhaps a sound thrashing will teach them their place?"

"More likely it will topple their Kingdom into utter ruin," said Garren grimly, "for already it wobbles precariously upon its foundation of evil."

Their forces were quickly gathered and a splendid show it was, the eager soldiers in their bright armor and fluttering banners, peasants all, but well trained, prosperous, and free, ready to sell their lives dearly to protect the land they loved. The same could not be said of the would-be invaders, for though the monstrous creatures that drove the ill-fed, ill-equipped, and desperate slaves towards that dread border were quite atrociously wondrous in and of themselves, the ragtag army they forced to march to a war none desired was downright pathetic. But then who needed human soldiers when one had an army of the undead? The Master had obviously abandoned that particular Kingdom to its fate, and of that, the fell things meant to take full advantage.

But the Kingdom stood not alone, for though its special protections had been removed, He would not abandon them to face such foes unaided. Garren's men swept through the ranks of the oncoming storm, dispatching each and every undead villain with ease, little troubling the mortal men through whom they quite literally rode, until not one grim specter remained to drive their pathetic slaves into battle and death. Upon realizing this miracle, the invading soldiers threw down their weapons and joyously raised their hands, for even did their foes deal out death in the morning, it must be better than life under such terrors.

A great cheer went up from the as yet stationary ranks of the defending King, as each and every man sheathed his weapon or unnocked his arrows, and sliding from their saddles, they raced upon the disorderly array of prisoners, throwing themselves joyously into their ranks, welcoming them as long lost friends and kin, for indeed, they were! The King smiled broadly, sheathing his own blade, but he eyed the grim Captain of the Messengers, asking solemnly, "this is not the final triumph, is it?"

"Nay Sire," said Garren quietly, "we have freed a few of this benighted nation's slaves, but we must yet remove the canker at its very heart."

"It is time to face my uncle," sighed the King heavily, "very well, let us be off!"

Garren, Kipril, the two late Princes, and the King rode off towards the latter's former home, wondering what fell spectacle would greet them there, for no doubt said uncle was desperate for his final triumph over his nephew and to secure his power over both Kingdoms, the cost of which might be more than he reckoned on. Said the King in parting to his own Captain, "see that our 'prisoners' are fed and clothed, we shall return when all is settled in their homeland and they may return home without fear and possessed of hope at last!" He kicked his horse to a faster pace and vanished across the border, upon a road he had not traveled since he was a boy.

The King refused to camp that night, saying he could find no rest in that grim land, especially with his task undone, so they pressed on through the night and came to his old home late the next morning. They rode through the empty and vacant streets, for much of the populous had fled when warned of what was to come of their land, the rest had dwindled through despair, violence, and hard living to the few wretched soldiers that had been forced to march to what could only be their doom upon that far border; their wives and children huddled withindoors, fearing the monsters that stalked their streets far more than any so-called enemy army and wondering to what doom their husbands and fathers had been sent and what was to come of themselves in the days to come.

The Messengers easily dispatched the fell things warding the crumbling castle, allowing the King easy access to his former abode, wondering whither his uncle had fled. He sat his horse in the courtyard, the Captain beside him, while the others searched the place, but no living thing did they find, save a few terrified servants, hiding in some forgotten corner. The poor wretches had said the King had ridden off with a dozen of the horrid monsters and whomever they could round up from the castle and city streets. The King looked grimly to Garren, who nodded and sent him elsewhither in a brilliant flash, catching the eyes of his comrades, they each vanished likewise.

They stood on a wide, grassy expanse of ground, a great hill rising at their backs. Before them approached a small company astride reptilian or skeletal horses, garbed in dark cloaks and black armor, their eyes glinting red in the depths of hood and helm. A dozen raggedly garbed peasants were driven before them like so many sheep and at their head rode an ancient man, like some desiccated corpse that refused to acknowledge it was dead.

"Ah, nephew!" spat the usurper King, "Why am I not surprised? At least I shall have a worthy victim at last to offer up to my dread master!"

"Release your hostages," said Garren grimly, drawing his sword and riding into the space between the two companies, "repent of your evil!"

"And who might you be?" laughed the ancient King scornfully, "Do you think anyone or anything can stand before me thus and live?" He eyed his villainous companions and laughed the more, "let us see if you are so bold, little knight, once my minions have finished with you!"

Garren only sat his horse and smiled in anticipation as the hideous pair charged, only when they were full upon him did he move, faster than thought his horse dodged out of reach of their fell swords before charging back towards the fiends that his master might finished the argument. The monsters and their steeds fell to ash while the Captain continued to sit his horse in the space between the parties.

"I have heard of such things," spat the unimpressed King, "what is that to me? I have more henchmen! Let us see if you can deal with ten!" He motioned and the monsters charged en masse.

Kipril ordered the charge as well, the two Princes delighting in their first battle as Messengers, they galloped towards their Captain and the onrushing hoard, their swords gleaming in the sun. Their foes anticipating trouble and twice outnumbered, the Messengers were quickly overcome by their enemies, though there were now only three of the dreadful creatures remaining, but the King was alone.

"Much better!" mocked the Uncle, "Now come along quietly Sire," he made the last a sneer, "and it will go the better for you." The King threw down his weapons and joined ranks with the hideous creatures, the wretched peasants, and his Uncle, an eager hope burning strangely in his heart though things looked grim indeed. They continued on, reaching the top of the hill, and the crude stone altar there upon.

"Spare these wretched folk," said the King in disgust, "be content with me." He laid himself willingly upon that grim stone and stared stonily at his uncle.

"No," spat the uncle, "I will destroy them simply because it will discomfit you! Now move aside and let me get to work, you shall watch and then suffer the same fate!"

"Enough," said a Voice, as if it expected a raging storm to cease at its word or reality itself to spring into being. The three hideous warriors simply vanished upon glimpsing that little bird, leaving only the huddled and miserable slaves and the two Kings, one still sitting upon that grim stone. The latter went immediately and tremblingly to his knees while the other scowled from his nephew to the ridiculous little bird and back again.

"And who dares interfere in my business now?" spat the defiant King, "This so-called King and his uncanny warriors could not stop me, what can a little bird do?"

"Have you any wish to recant of your evil?" countered the magpie, perched in a scrubby sapling forcing itself between two stones of that accursed altar.

"No!" said he stiffly, but not without a little unease.

"Very well," said that little bird, and cocking His head, the villainous King clutched at his heart and collapsed, leaving only a little pile of dust to say that he had ever been. He winked at the kneeling King and flapped off in a flurry of white feathers.

The King gained his feet and smiled broadly at the gaping peasants, said he quietly, "I do believe this is but the first of many happy days to come!" They set to cheering, such as had not been heard in that weary land for many a year. So it was the unhappy land was added to the holdings of that bright Kingdom and its rightful King ruled his birthright at last, much to the joy of all.

The King and his lady reigned for the five hundred years allotted to them but still the question of an heir was not answered, for no further children were born to the couple, but much did that land prosper during their long and happy reign, though many other realms collapsed or were swallowed up by others through the long years, none dared challenge the blessed Kingdom after its total triumph over the first challenger.

"You're leaving then?" said the King to his eldest son, as he swung himself into his saddle, as he had five thousand times before.

"Yes, Sire," said the boy, "it is just a routine patrol of the Southern border, we shall be back in a few days. Is something amiss?"

"I don't know," said the King wistfully, "I feel rather unsettled of late."

The Messenger smiled sadly, "your years are nearly spent, Sire, the fate of your Kingdom remains in question, what is surprising in that?"

"Indeed," smiled the older man ruefully, "off with you, lad! Let not my petty fears keep you from your duty."

"Farewell, father," said the boy solemnly, reining his horse sharply around and trotting for the gate, five guardsmen in tow. The King shook his head, wondering at his own foolishness, he smiled wryly and returned to his own duties.

The Messenger was knocked from his saddle and lay stunned, an arrow in his shoulder, but before he could gain his feet and challenge the fiends that had set upon his company, they had vanished with his men, leaving only the riderless horses, dashing off in panic or standing about, heads down and quivering in terror. He drew his sword as he leapt aback his horse, vanishing with all the speed of his kind. The scene was not new to him, indeed, it was the last thing his mortal eyes had looked upon, but this time it was not his bloody corpse atop that dripping stone, a fiery-eyed fiend with a dagger in its fist leaning over its victim in gloating triumph.

"Come no further," hissed the murderous fiend, "you have no power here, wraith!"

"Indeed?" queried the Messenger, letting a glimmer of that deadly light shine through.

"Quite," triumphed the villain, "as the blood of your fellows spared that wretched realm from our interference, so too shall the blood of my victims do likewise in your case."

"I do not believe you!" said the Messenger, hefting his sword, "That was my Master's power, this is some fell witchery of evil derivation!"

"You have been warned," scorned the fiend, vanishing in a dark flash.

The man approached his slain guardsman, but there was nothing to be done, the fiend had already had its way with the boy. He sighed heavily and made to touch the unmoving form with a glowing hand, only to find himself on the far side of the clearing, having been flung hence when he tried to touch the murdered boy. Picking himself up, he frowned in confusion at the scene, could the fiend be right? A great raven, perched in a nearby tree, squawked his triumph, "anything your so-called master can do, I can do better! This is but the beginning, boy, the time of peace and prosperity and righteousness in your benighted homeland is over! I shall place the man of my choosing upon the throne and you wretched ghosts can do nothing to stop me!"

The former prince shuddered, but flung himself aback the horse and vanished immediately back to his father, or tried to, but it seemed he could not cross the borders of that land! He sat his horse upon the western border, unable to get any closer to his father, the horse screaming his frustration in being unable to gallop freely wherever he would, as was ever his wont. Bren was suddenly beside him, glancing about in astonishment, said he, "what just happened?"

The boy shook his head, "the Enemy's meddling." He placed a hand upon the invisible barrier, as if it was a wall of a stone, "we can no longer enter the Kingdom!"

"One moment I was regaling the court with a tale, the next I was here!" said Bren with a wondering shake of his head, "What is to be done?"

"Would you again wear flesh, children?" came the Voice, "My Enemy's meddling must be dealt with yet you cannot avert disaster in your current form."

"Gladly!" said the former Prince, Bren nodding beside him.

"Very well!" said He, a little bird in a nearby tree, "You may now do as you must!" They exchanged an eager smile, leapt aback their horses, and galloped eagerly across the previously impermeable border.

"Sire!?" came the query from his son's familiar voice, as the lad trotted back into the courtyard, bereft of his company but bringing the errant bard with him.

"What is this?" asked the King in astonishment, "What is happening?"

"I would fain ask you the same, Sire," said the boy, "is all well?"

"Besides for your companion there vanishing in mid-sentence," began the King, but he got no further, for suddenly a whole company of those dreadful things invaded the courtyard, soon overwhelming the King, the two mortal Messengers, and everyone else in the castle, as they went forth, slaughtering unchallenged.

"What has happened?" gasped the stricken King of his dying son.

The boy smiled wryly, grimacing in pain, "some fell work of the enemy, Highness. The Messengers can no longer enter your holdings...we again wear flesh that we might be of aid...but we are too little too late..." He slumped in death, unable to finish, but the King was beyond listening.

"You have had your fun, Fiend," said the Magpie to the Raven, as they perched atop the battlements and watched the slaughter.

"Oh no!" triumphed the stygian fowl, "I have only begun!"

"It is Finished!" said the Magpie brightly, but He was a bird no longer, rather it was as if the sun itself had invaded the world over which it had previously circled. The Fiend flinched at that brightness and evaporated into nothingness, as did all creation. All evil, grief, sorrow, and sin were burned away forever, all tears forgot, and only Joy would remain ever after.

Sword Wielding Maniacs

The fourth generation of sword wielding maniacs was about to commence upon the journey that their father's father's fathers had begun: taking their rightful place in the King's guard. They were to begin their training in only a few days, but certainly they already knew all they must, it could be naught but a formality before beginning their noble and honorable duty. And to prove it, they thought a bit of mischief, certainly a natural result of their youth and high spirits, just the thing to celebrate the milestone. They had easy access to swords, some a bit dull or rusty, but their fathers, uncles, brothers, and grandfathers kept an assortment of unused, partially forgotten blades within easy reach. That fateful morning, each of the two boys helped himself to that which suited him best, and withdrew from their familiar homes and surroundings, secreting themselves and their pilfered weapons in the heart of the concealing wood.

"Are you sure about this?" asked Kipril hesitantly, suddenly seeming to feel all the weight of responsibility that came with wielding such a weapon like the weight of the steel in his hand.

"We've been learning the art since we could barely walk," assured Garren, "it's as natural as breathing! It's in our blood!"

"But they've never let us use a real weapon before," replied Kipril.

"Because we were children, mere boys," replied Garren confidently, "soon we will be men! Now get ready!"

"Very well," sighed his friend, setting himself as he had a thousand times before in preparation for a sparring match, but this time a real sparring match! With an eager grin, he raised his sword and blocked the incoming stroke, countering with his own thrust.

Back and forth they fought, the familiar tempo of the ancient dance seeming to keep time with the beating of their own hearts, but instead of the dull clack of wood on wood, the clang of metal on metal added a zest never before experienced by either of the neophyte swordsmen, but suddenly something else incumbent within the dangerous exchange, and equally novel, presented itself, for neither had yet drawn blood or injured another man. Kipril fell with a scream of agony, Garren's horror and anguish of heart no less acute; the bloody blade fell from his nerveless hands, as he sank to his knees beside his stricken friend.

"No!" whispered Garren in horror, "No!"

"I didn't think we were ready," said Kipril weakly, trying to lighten the morbid mood with a little humor, but the ever growing pool of blood in which he lay would not go away or recede for all the jokes in the world.

"I'm sorry my friend!" cried Garren in near despair.

Kipril shook his head sadly, smiling wistfully he said, "don't be ridiculous, let's not waste our last moments so wretchedly; it was a mistake, of course I forgive you, but please, forgive yourself..." He trailed off as his body slumped in death, the only sound the wretched sobbing of his friend.

Some time later, covered in blood, his face streaked with tears, Garren sat beside his dead friend and wondered what he was going to do. He couldn't go home, not after this, but what else did he have? His life was worth nothing after this, everything he thought meant anything meant nothing! He gazed upon that bloody blade, wondering if it was not perhaps the kinder fate, rather than to wander the world and die of starvation or violence or disease, ever haunted by guilt and regret and horror at the nothingness that was his own soul, just to have it done and over, he was equally doomed anyway. But his hand flinched away in horror, no matter how black the future before him, such an end would solve nothing, indeed, it would only make it worse.

"Quite an astute observation," chirruped a little magpie, lighting on the dead Kipril but peering at Garren with its far too keen eyes, "now what is to come of you?"

"Nothing," sighed the boy heavily, knowing there could be no other answer.

"True, at the moment," agreed the bird cordially, "if you are dependent upon your own strength."

"I have none," agreed the boy wretchedly, so much so that he was in nowise surprised to be confronted by a talking bird.

"Mine is sufficient for all," said the bird, "but you must trust Me?"

He heard the emphasis on that last pronoun and shuddered, his silly question dying aborning ere it was asked, instead he turned his eyes to the ground, where Kipril's blood was congealing into a muddy mess, "why would You still care for me?"

"You made a mistake, child," said the Magpie gently, "and even had you done it intentionally or struck out in fury, still I can forgive, but you must let Me!"

"What must I do?" asked the boy, hope suddenly alive in his heart when he thought it had perished utterly therefrom.

"Nothing," said the Bird, "rather I will do great and wondrous things through you, but you must let Me! Can you do as I ask, no matter the oddity or strangeness or seeming odiousness of the task set before you?"

"I will try," said Garren quietly, meeting those keen eyes and finding himself smitten thereby; he saw therein his own insignificance and futility, wretchedness and evil, but he also saw Love, a Love so great that it would die before it let a single soul face the consequences due its pride and folly, at least without the chance to find mercy and grace, a hope and a future, and a joy beyond the world's comprehension.

"And I will lend you strength," assured that beloved Voice, before all was a brilliant light and then a comfortable and unknowing darkness.

He felt someone shaking him, but he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into the indifferent darkness of oblivion and there rest for all that was left of time, but that was not to be, for the shaker struck again, this time more vigorously. Garren groaned and returned to the world of the living; his mouth fell open in a very gratifying gape upon seeing Kipril occupying the same sphere, for it was he that had done the shaking. His formerly dead friend grinned his usual grin and laughed for very joy, "quit gawping my friend, we have much to do if we are to get home with none the wiser as to the mischief of the day."

"How?!" said Garren, weakly gaining his feet, but not waiting for an answer, he launched himself at his quite lively friend and welcomed him back as if he thought never to see him again, for truly he had not.

"Did you not bend your stubborn heart to His?" smiled his friend in reply, fending off a hug that might have no end, if Garren had any say in the matter, "What are life and death and everything beyond both to Him?"

Garren glanced about in wonder, the ground still wet and stained with blood, both boys covered in the same, yet here was Kipril alive and smiling like dawn itself! It had not been a dream, nay a nightmare!, but what then was the strange result? Could they just go on with life as if nothing had happened?

"Sorry old friend," said Kipril quietly, "life as once we knew it is over; we are both dead, at least as far as the world's concerns now matter to us. We have our duty to be about, but it is He that determines our errands, no longer are our future or lives our own, not that they ever were, though we arrogantly assumed just that."

Garren frowned pensively, "of what do you speak?"

"I'm dead," said Kipril bluntly, allowing his mortal disguise to melt away and revealing a dread and radiant form beneath, "I can only abide within the mortal world for as long as He has some needful task or reason therefor."

Garren's hand was suddenly alight with that same fire, seeming to mirror that awful brilliance that comprised his friend's very being, and as Kipril veiled that wonderful vision, so too did the light fade from his own hand. Garren frowned in consternation at the ordinary seeming appendage and looked to Kipril for clarification. Kipril smiled wryly and asked, "you cannot see it?" At Garren's perplexed look, the boy added, "whether you can see it or not, you've been Marked, you're as deep in this as I, save you still wear flesh and bone."

Garren again studied the blank palm, mused he, "what then am I to do?"

"Wait and prepare," said Kipril.

"Prepare for what?" asked the boy anxiously.

"Whatever it is He will ask of us," replied Kipril easily, being no longer a mortal creature, he was no longer haunted by the doubts and fears that constantly afflicted common men, for his strength and confidence were rooted in an eternal foundation that would never be shaken, for it Was before time and would Be long after all they knew as reality had passed into Greater Things.

"That's easy enough for you to say," said Garren with a shudder, "you've glimpsed things beyond the confines of this world!"

Smiled Kipril wryly, "and yet I am ordered to keep company with mortal men, to pretend I am such myself, for the foreseeable future. You must have faith, that like that mark upon your hand, there are Greater Things afoot and we are caught up in them, no matter how long the wait or dreary or mundane the task set before us. I must patiently return to my previous existence as if I am no different than the boy I was but this morning."

"What are you?" asked Garren a little breathlessly, as if here stood what most men would consider a minor god.

"A man, you fool!" grinned Kipril, laughing so brightly that there could be no sting in the words, "The same as I have ever been and will ever be; the same as you! I'm simply beyond time and death and the nuisance of either while you still linger therein for a little while, but we are both Messengers, men set apart for the Master's business within this mortal sphere, the solution to those problems to which mortal men can find no natural solution."

"You make it sound so grand and exciting," mused Garren, hope, fear, and eagerness fighting for supremacy in his mind and countenance; he glanced again at his vacant palm, smiling ruefully, "and yet it looks to be nothing extraordinary, it feels the same as ever it has!"

"That is the business of faith, my friend," said Kipril cordially, "it is your eyes when you cannot yet see and the anchor in the emotional storms when your heart is certain despair and utter night will certainly triumph, the certain reminder that the sun and stars still dwell beyond that thin veil of cloud, no matter how dark or expansive."

"I've been set apart for His service?" queried Garren with a pensive frown, "What are the implications then for our lives?"

"We must live among and comport ourselves as mortal men, but yet consider ourselves dead men, doing nothing to entangle ourselves irreversibly in mortal affairs, save those tasks our Master sets us," said he, "more specifically we are to train for and join the Guard, for it is there our duty lies, but we are not to marry, strive after wealth or land or power, or otherwise pursue those things common to a mortal life."

Garren glanced again at that empty palm, musing to the air, "you are dead and I am to live as if I were." He smiled wryly, "what of our sisters?"

"They are young," smiled Kipril wistfully, "and it is only our parents that insist we each marry the other's eldest sister, I doubt the girls have thought it over very much, at least on a personal level. They are content with their fate and have contrived a few dreams of happily ever after for themselves, but I do not think they will be overly grieved by our decease, merely in the disappointment of their dreams, but it is also a chance for them to dream again and anew."

"That is something of a relief then," laughed Garren lightly, "I wasn't exactly keen on the idea myself. Your sister is a nice enough girl, but not really the sort I had ever anticipated settling down with." His smile grew wry as he took in the bloody mess that was themselves, as he asked, "and how do you propose cleaning up this disaster?"

"Since you have no wife to look after you," laughed Kipril, "allow me to do the honors!" With a thought, Kipril's person was suddenly as clean and neat as his most exacting aunt might desire upon a feast day. He touched Garren with a glowing hand, setting his person to rights as well.

"That's a handy trick!" said Garren in approbation, "And if not a wife, at least I have a lieutenant to see to such matters!"

"Indeed," nodded Kipril, with nary a sparkle of amusement or joking in his manner, as if he did not share his friend's mirthful assessment of the situation but rather took it quite seriously.

"You cannot think I am serious?!" said Garren in astonishment, "Has your sense of humor likewise perished with your mortal flesh?"

"Certainly not!" said Kipril in horror at the thought, "If anything it has become more keen, more real, more true, but though you may have been in jest, I am not, indeed, those are our orders!"

"Orders?" said Garren, a slight crease marring his brow, "You're to be my lieutenant?" He laughed wryly at the thought, "as if I was a Captain with a subordinate officer at my beck and call? Come friend, you must be in jest!"

"No, sir," said Kipril quite solemnly, "for it is the very truth and I can speak nothing but!"

"Me?!" sputtered Garren, "Captain, of what? The Guard? The local regiment of the Messengers? Me?! The killer of his friend? The arrogant fool who thought he had nothing to learn!"

"Exactly," beamed Kipril, "though to your perception nothing very significant has happened, yet, when He speaks, it is Done. You might have to wait a few years to see it fulfilled, but one day it will be and there's no use complaining about it, making excuses, or thinking He has made a mistake, for He can't! Just accept it, in faith, as you must everything else."

"This could be a very long wait," sighed Garren, overwrought at the very thought, to say nothing of the other shocks of the day.

"Hence my presence," assured his smugly grinning friend, "that's what a good lieutenant is for, sir."

"Thank you, my friend," sighed Garren, keenly aware of the other's care and consideration for him, "but let's stop all this 'sir' nonsense until I've come into my own." At Kipril's slightly scandalized and quizzical look, he amended, "else we might betray that we are more than two mere scampish lads intent on one day joining the Guard."

"That is the only reason I will abide by that particular order," said Kipril, valiantly leaving off the title, but added he with a bright laugh, "though it would be quite ironic if I insisted on calling you sir yet disobeyed a direct order!" They could not quite contain themselves thereafter, for mirth had conquered all sense and conversation for the foreseeable future.

"Come Kipril," said Garren's eldest sister, "will you not at least speak your intentions before you go off to train for the Guard?"

"I'm sorry," said he with a wistful smile, "if any woman were to have my heart and affections, it would certainly be you, milady, but alas that it can never be!"

"Boys!" scowled she, flouncing out of the room as proficiently as a thwarted noble lady might.

"My brother too?" mused Kipril's own sister to the aggrieved lady, "Yours was likewise ungallant, but perhaps they merely need time to mature and accept what can only be their duty with grace?"

"I don't want to be anyone's duty," sulked the other girl, "it would serve them both right if we each found a better man in their absence!"

"Quite," mused the first, her mind suddenly opened to options she never knew she had and somehow knowing that wait for all of time though she might, never could such a union be.

"Here we are," said Garren, just for something to say to distract himself from the anxious butterflies mercilessly flogging his innards with their indelicate wings. He swung out of his saddle and glanced about the stark little village in dread, knowing nothing of what it might hold for him or how he was to weave what was now his life into the strange destiny laid before him.

"Be at peace, my friend," smiled Kipril broadly, "trepidation upon the cusp of change is certainly normal, but you must not let it override everything else!"

"Quite," agreed he, leading his horse towards what looked to be the foremost building in the little settlement. They tied their horses to the provided rail and knocked upon the door, entering when bidden to do so.

After the proper courtesies were observed, they stood before an aging man, seated at a great desk and busy about some important minutia or other, he looked up after a properly lengthy and awkward silence, at least for the boys, and asked grimly, "new recruits?"

"Yes, sir," said the boys together.

When he asked after their names and origins, he wasn't impressed by their once prized and proud lineage, he merely nodded and went back to his papers, saying in dismissal, "the lad will get you settled and you'll begin your duties on the morrow."

A page popped out of the maze of furniture and bookshelves cramming the room, like a mouse out of a hole, and motioned for them to follow, with only a wry glance and smile between them, they followed silently after. They left the main building and entered one of the many small cottage-like structures that composed the bulk of the village, but it wasn't a homey little abode as most such are assumed to be, rather it was as stark and bare as the village itself, everything given over to utility and efficiency. It housed four bunks with two beds apiece, and besides for a small area dedicated to storage and personal hygiene, that was it.

As they glanced about in wonder at the place, the page bobbed a courtesy and hied himself off ere the questions came, thus sparing himself many a polite but meaningless vagary about what life was like here, what was expected of them, and that sort of thing. "At least these surroundings are quite befitting for the dead," said Garren wryly, "I doubt anyone can get too comfortable with or enamored of the mortal world here!"

"Is that not what a good Guard expects?" came a querulous voice, "They live but to die, so why encourage them to grow fond of what can never be theirs?"

"Why do you speak of the Guard as if you have no part in it?" asked the quizzical Garren of the slightly older boy who had answered his rhetorical postulation.

"I'm of royal blood," sniffed the raw recruit, "one day I'll be a Duke, if not King, but for now my father insists I learn the martial arts alongside his meanest troops!" Snarled he at the gaping peasants, "and yes, we must forgo the honor and propriety due my station, for whilst I reside in this forsaken place I am to be considered nothing but another trainee lest I distract the other students. So quit your gawping and be about your business."

"We've only just arrived," said Kipril, "and have no idea what is expected of us at this particular moment or at all."

"Just fall into line with everyone else and you'll do just fine," said the young nobleman with an indifferent shrug, "at the moment, we're expected in the dining hall. Follow me, if you must!" They followed their reluctant guide out into the fading afternoon, across the village, and into a large, rectangular building filled to overflowing with tables, at which were seated a number of hungry lads their age and older, eagerly awaiting the evening meal. They took their places and soon learned the rhythms of the place, as they began the journey that would take them wherever it was they were destined to go.

Some weeks into their training, Garren was called into the main building for an interview with the man who oversaw all aspects of their training and the facilities where it was conducted, the very man who had given them only a moment of his time that first, awkward day. As he made the proper courtesies, the man eyed him skeptically, and with far more interest than he had upon his first presentation with such a specimen. "This way," said the man at last, leading the boy back into a stuffy but private office where they might speak alone.

"I am curious about something," said the man, beginning to pace the three steps allowed in the confined space, before turning and repeating the process times beyond count, he paused briefly and motioned for the boy to sit in a chair off to one side, before continuing his pacing and his inquiry, "why are you here?"

Garren frowned slightly, but answered concisely, "to learn what I must to join the Guard, sir."

"The obvious answer any recruit might give," mused the man, eyeing the boy keenly, as if he might read the reason written on the lad's very soul, "but it is not the full answer!"

"What would you have me say, sir?" asked the boy, more and more puzzled, "Who am I that I would attract your interest or notice?"

"Precisely," said the man, "all else being equal, you are just another boy come to train for the Guard, and yet you are not!" At the boy's continued puzzlement, he pointed to Garren's hand and said, "that Mark, what does it mean, why are you here, who are you?"

Garren could not help but grin wryly, "all excellent questions, sir, and I was hoping my time here would answer some of them. I can't even see it myself, how is it you can?"

"Curious," smiled the man thoughtfully, "very curious indeed! I have never seen or even heard of the like, yet there can be no doubt as to what it means, for no one could forge such a Mark. You belong to my Master and He has set you apart for some particular duty, yet you say you cannot see it?"

"I'm a mortal man, sir," said Garren, ill-containing the eagerness in his voice.

"And yet you are aware that all is not as it appears?" persisted he.

"My dearest friend was well and truly dead, sir," said Garren in reminiscent wonder, "but he accompanied me to this place and daily trains beside me."

"Very interesting!" said the man eagerly, "I would fain talk with this friend of yours as well!"

"What would you have of me, sir?" came Kipril's familiar voice, even as he seemed to materialize out of thin air in the now crowded little room, but the man wasn't surprised by his antics, not in the least, he took it as much for granted as he did a man's ability to walk from one room into the next, but then to his perception, that was exactly what had happened.

The man frowned slightly as he studied the junior Messenger, "and just what are you doing gadding about as a mortal student?"

"Orders," grinned the boy, in nowise cowed or overawed by the first of his comrades he had yet encountered abroad in the waking world, "might I ask the same of you, sir?"

"And my answer would be the same, lad," grinned the usually stern man in reply, "what of your friend here?"

"One of ours, sir," said Kipril, much warming Garren's wondering heart, for this reminder that he did indeed belong to their world, if he was temporarily trapped within a mortal body and the constraints of time, for sometimes he felt as if he belonged to neither, that he was some sort of outcast or orphan, having rejected his native realm but not yet able to fully enter his adopted Kingdom.

"Curious indeed!" said the man in wonder, "And why are you warding his steps and spying on your teachers?"

"Orders," grinned Kipril the more, "though in this case the precaution was unnecessary."

"What do you know of your proclivities lad?" asked the man.

"Very little," said Kipril, "I am very new at this."

"In addition to your normal training," mused he, "I would like the pair of you to attend me on occasion that I might introduce you to what it is to be a Messenger, so when the time comes, you are ready for whatever it is you have been called upon to do."

"Even me?!" said Garren, unable to hide his eagerness and joy.

"Most especially you," said the man, "you are in a very dangerous and precarious position, Marked as the Master's own yet still a mortal man, able to change his mind and fling himself into utter night. The Enemy and his minions will happily avail themselves of that very vulnerability, you will find little comfort from your fellow mortals, being no longer a true part of their world, and though you cannot yet physically master the skills peculiar to our calling, at least you will be aware of what you can and cannot do when the time comes." He smiled genially at the astonished pair and added, "besides, the fellowship and camaraderie will do us all good. It is not good for a man to be alone!"

So it was they completed their training, took their places amongst the Guard, and gradually worked their way up through the ranks, until at last Garren was a Captain amongst them and Kipril his ever faithful lieutenant, but he was still a mortal man for all of that. One of his duties was overseeing the instruction of the young prince in the martial arts, an opportunity an old school mate wished to take advantage of; the Duke's personal servant and henchman approached the Captain one afternoon and asked if his master might have a few minutes of his time. Garren smiled wryly, for even the whims of the great were orders to such as himself. He nodded and the man led the way.

"It has been a long time, sir, a very long time," said the Duke with forced cordiality, hating the display but knowing it necessary to accomplish his ends, "what think you of a little business venture we might embark upon together?"

"I am at your service, milord," said the Captain, standing stiffly at attention, as was only proper until, if ever, his host motioned for him to do aught else.

"Excellent," agreed the Duke, "I fear my nephew is a very troubled young man and would in nowise make a fitting King; my brother is blind to the situation and refuses to act. What say you to this?"

Garren knew a wrong answer would be the death of him, but he also knew that the moment long foretold had come, for as much as it wrung his heart, he must be complicit in what could only be construed as treachery of the worst sort, said he grimly, "what are your orders, sir?"

"Sire?" came the questioning voice.

"Yes?" asked the crown prince of the Captain of his father's guards.

Said the man hesitantly, as if he was ashamed of what next was to be said, "would you mind a slight change in our routine for the day?"

"What are you suggesting?" asked the boy, with a slight frown.

"Might we take our practice session outside the city?" continued the guardsman.

The boy's face lit up as he agreed, "why certainly, it would be just the thing! Let us be off immediately, if you are able?"

The man smiled sadly and nodded, "very good, Sire, we can leave this moment if you wish!"

"It has been too long since I left the Keep," said the young prince eagerly, "and with such an excuse my father can hardly fault me for neglecting my usual duties!"

"That is one way to look at it, Highness," smiled Bayard wryly, the prince's longtime friend, companion, and servant, "but I'll see to the horses."

They were soon in their saddles and riding off upon what should be a pleasant jaunt through the beautiful spring weather and countryside, though the Captain's heart was heavy within him, knowing what he must do, he tried desperately to keep any sign of his disquiet from his face and voice. They wended their way deep into the woods, upon a path neither boy had ever trodden before; the forest grew thick, dark, and close about them, as if the very trees had nefarious secrets they wished to hide from the uninitiated and resented even their presence in such a place. "I do not like the feel of these woods, Captain," said the Prince anxiously, as the little company drew rein and dismounted near an ancient ruin.

"You'll soon understand, Sire," said the Captain heavily, leading the way into the crumbling keep, his wide-eyed and anxious lieutenant bringing up the rear.

And suddenly he did understand, for as the heavy oaken door slammed shut behind them, he saw his maliciously smiling uncle waiting for them. "This is treason," hissed the Prince, "what have you done?"

"What I must, Sire," said the Captain sadly, "I had no choice!"

"Everyone has a choice, sir," said the Prince coldly, "I had thought better of you!"

"Now it is your turn to choose, nephew!" smiled the Duke villainously, "Forget the petty betrayals of your inferiors and pay heed to my grand scheme!"

He motioned towards the middle of the ruin, not covered in cracked paving stones or even bare dirt, but rather containing a deep pool or an overly large well. He nodded towards Bayard and the Captain pushed the boy into the midst of the previously still water, but the moment he touched its surface, it was suddenly alive with writhing tentacles, which grasped the horrified servant, strangling and crushing him even as they drew him under to drown, if need be. The Prince was too shocked and horrified to cry out, he could only watch in wretched agony as the pool grew silent and still once more, a dreadful peace, marred only by a red veil drifting slowly up from the depths.

"Now, nephew," said the King's brother coldly, "what is your choice? You can suffer the fate of your friend or you can withdraw quietly from the realm, vowing never to return or trouble me the more. Have I your word?"

"Never!" sobbed the boy, "I will not abandon my father or kingdom..." He was suddenly thrown in, the water boiling with grasping tentacles, the words lost in the chaos, and the last impediment to the crown vanished beneath the ominously still water.

"You have done well, Captain," said the treasonous uncle, "I need two men for another little project; it will get messy, so it would be best if they were expendable."

"Yes sir," grated the guardsman grimly, "I'll see what I can do."

"Have them at the appointed place tomorrow night," said the Duke in farewell, "then we'll discuss your own reward." The Captain merely bowed as the Duke and his henchman exited the ruin, the two soldiers followed silently after some minutes later, allowing the main villains time enough to be gone from that dreadful place.

"It's done, sir," sighed the lieutenant heavily.

"No," said the Captain, a strange eagerness in his otherwise grave voice, "it is only begun!"

The crushed and broken bones, hunks of mangled flesh, and bits of ragged cloth settled to the bottom of that terrible well to rot with the rest of the detritus from the monster's previous victims, or so it should have done, but a strange radiance, like sunbeams that had strayed out of time and place into those otherwise murky depths, would not let them lie forgotten. The light condensed itself into the form of a man and it took up a rusting sword that lay at its feet, suddenly the same radiance flickered along the blade and the whole weapon was alight therewith. Another shaft of that wayward starlight materialized nearby, this one taking up a broken spear that lay near to hand, the same strange light setting it ablaze. The light-wrought specters exchanged a knowing glance and went to confront the creature in its lair.

It felt the slight ripples in the water, the minute disturbance created by the weapons as their wielders approached, but the creatures themselves caused nary a ripple in their approach, being utterly outside the element itself. The squid-like beast shifted at the sensation, wondering what it portended, for this was not another victim offered up in sacrifice to its bestial appetite, but these primordial ponderings were cut short as pain erupted in two places, then four, then six, it writhed in agony and struck out blindly in fury, but it could not touch its tormentors, save to bump against their mortal weapons, and soon enough it was so much flotsam floating to the top of that loathsome well.

They stood upon the bricks rimming the pool, the horror floating dead before them, their light-wrought forms taking on the guise of common men, though not the faces they had worn in waking life, rather two scandalous rogues who would not be out of place in such a setting. "Now for the lesser villains," said the erstwhile Prince grimly, Ithril by name. Bayard nodded gravely and followed his scalawag of a companion out into the lengthening shadows of night.

"Keep watch Kipril," said the Captain, as he sat at a table in the empty common room at one of the most disreputable inns in the Kingdom.

"They'll be coming for you next, sir," said the Lieutenant, taking up his station by the door, he grinned wryly, "I was set upon by footpads last night and awoke in an alley, apparently murdered for the contents of my belt pouch."

"No loose ends," nodded the Captain grimly, but his dearest friend and lifelong companion had never heard him so eager.

"Here they come, sir," said Kipril, watching a pair of scandalous looking personages approach the inn in broad daylight, something no true villain would ever do, at least one with any experience.

"Let them in and continue to keep watch," said the Captain, trying to quiet the fear and joy both fighting for supremacy in his heart; had his time truly come?

The pair of neophyte villains plopped themselves across from the Captain without a word, their eyes hard and grim, but beneath, in their very depths, sparkled a Joy no mortal heart could fathom, and he envied them that. "You have questions," said he quietly, "but I have few answers." He turned his hand over and showed them the seemingly empty palm, at least to him there was nothing there, but Kipril assured him it was quite the contrary.

Bayard gasped outright but the former Prince had far more control of his outward expressions, but the Captain could see the surprise wash across those impossible eyes like a ripple across that horrid pool wherein the boys had met their mortal end. "How?!" said Ithril at last, "How can a traitor bear such a mark, boast that Light?!"

"I am His," said Garren quietly, "and it was He that ordered it done. I could do naught else, lads, without forfeiting my soul! Though it seems the worst sort of treason to men, in the Great Tale, of which He is the Author, it is a necessary plot point."

"So you are not in league with my uncle?" asked the Prince skeptically.

"No lad," said the Captain, "and I believe this is the very means by which he and all his plotting against your father and the Kingdom will be brought to naught. He's ordered me to acquire two disposable henchmen for another little project he has in mind and I have no doubt my own end is nigh, now that he's done with me. It will be a convenient way to both dispose of witnesses and place blame for the unfortunate Prince's vanishment. They've already done in my lieutenant there."

At their startled looks and Kipril's wry smile, Garren smiled dryly, "welcome to a world far larger than you can even begin to imagine, lads! Do you think death can stop someone beyond it? Do you think I routinely sit in seedy inns discussing treason with villains such as you or that I often speak with the dead, though in strange guise?"

"I suppose not," said Ithril slowly, "how long have you been this way?"

"I'm not," sighed the Captain, leaning back against his chair, "I'm a mortal man, though I've been set apart for this peculiar service since I was a mere lad." He smiled sadly at Kipril, who grinned broadly at his Captain's wistfulness ere the tale was told, having no such feelings himself pertaining to the mortally tragic tale, but then he wasn't a mortal creature and his perspective upon such matters was very different from that of his friend.

Continued Garren, "we were friends since childhood, our families had served in the guard together for generations and we were but the latest crop of new recruits. We thought we were quite something in those days, thinking we knew something of war and weapons, having played at it since we could walk, but we were fools, for we had never had any real training or experience. One day we each stole away with a pilfered sword, withdrawing to some quiet, wooded place, to prove once and for all we were the valiant warriors we knew we were destined to be from birth. We sparred for a little while, and it was great fun, until tragedy struck. I accidentally smote my best friend through the abdomen with my stolen blade! There he lay, dying on the grass, blood everywhere, pain in his eyes but no malice in his heart, forgiving me with his dying breath.

I was a wreck, what had I done?! I might have done myself harm in my agony, had He not intervened, in the guise of a little bird, a magpie, He came to me. He said He would have something for me to accomplish in the coming years, if I would but forgive myself and seek His mercy and grace and abide by His orders, I could prevent a greater tragedy in years to come, one far worse than the death of one boy. I had to choose either the Light or utter Night, there was nothing else to do. I bowed my horrified soul to His, He called me child, beloved, and forgiven, even amidst my tragedy and pride! Stranger still, I received back my dead! There was life again in the eyes of the slain, but it was not to mortal life Kipril had been restored, but rather to something beyond it, even as I was Marked as one of His own."

He glanced longingly at the blank hand, and said with a sigh, "at least that is what Kipril tells me, I can See nothing out of the ordinary thereon. But I've been named your Captain, even if I do not currently share your more interesting nature." His smile grew eager, if grim, "though I believe that is quite soon to be rectified."

As if in confirmation, Kipril said, "the Duke's henchman approaches, sir."

"You'd best vanish, my friend," said Garren grimly, "as you are supposed to be murdered in an alley somewhere."

"May the Master go with you, my friend!" said Kipril in benediction, "Whatever betide!"

He smiled sadly as the lieutenant vanished, leaving him alone with the astonished boys, said he with a wry smile, "that's the tale lads, make of it what you will. Do as you know you must," he smiled ironically, "even if it seems to be treason, you cannot any longer be led astray by doubt, fear, or selfish desire." He grew silent as the henchman entered the inn, glanced about for any sign of other occupants, and then approached the table. Said Garren grimly, "as your master has requested, so have I complied."

"Excellent," said the henchman, studying the ne'er-do-wells appreciably, "they'll be just the thing, now for your reward!"

No one was surprised when the fiend drove a knife into the Captain's back, as he crumpled to the floor in agony, the boys did not miss the utter joy that for a moment sparkled in his eyes before they glazed in death. Said the killer to his new minions, "dispose of the corpse and return to me here, we have work to do!"

The neophytes exchanged a wordless, wondering gaze, but dutifully dragged the dead man from the inn and vanished with the corpse into the surrounding woods. Kipril met them there, said he brightly, "wonderful things are afoot lads! Even in the midst of death and treachery, our Master's power and will find their glorious fulfillment! Long has the Captain yearned for this day, little realizing that to creatures beyond the reach of time and death, what are a few years? For what our Master speaks, Is, little does it matter that many a long year to mortal sensibilities lies between the speaking and fulfillment thereof, but to a mortal mind, this is a difficult concept to grasp, for we are as enmeshed within time as a fish within the water, even when we are drawn out of it, little do we understand the strange new world we have entered, at least at the first, so too the land borne fish!"

"Are you calling me a fish out of water?" gasped Garren, as he roused from death's cold nap, beaming like the sun in its rising over a cold and weary land that has lingered long in the grasp of an endless winter's night.

"Something like that," said Kipril with a grand salute, "sir!"

"Insubordination in the ranks," mused the Captain, gaining his feet and studying his newest recruits pensively, "what about you, Sire?"

"I'm naught but a nameless soldier now, sir!" saluted Ithril with a broad grin, "Happy am I to be in your service!"

"Traitor that I am?" grinned Garren dryly.

"Who am I to question His orders, sir?" smiled the erstwhile prince ruefully, "Or yours."

"Maybe you could teach my lieutenant a thing or two about taking orders then," mused the Captain in feigned grimness, "I'm afraid he's taken a few liberties in past years, being both of an uncanny nature and a particular friend of his captain."

Kipril actually started in surprise, a worried light in his eyes, until Garren's bright laugh drove all angst far therefrom, "easy man," chuckled the Captain, "you've been an ideal soldier, Messenger, and friend. I could not have borne it without you."

"It has been an honor and a privilege sir," smiled Kipril warmly, "and I look forward to what is yet to come. All these long years of waiting and doing what little we may to prepare, but waiting still, and now it is upon us! And what comes after?"

"Let's settle this messy business before we worry about that," smiled the Captain eagerly, "but knowing that He has promised better things still to come, we need not doubt, not in the least." He eyed his nefarious and newest minions and said, "first you two had best get back to your new boss, I'm sure he has something dreadful for you to be about." He exchanged a grim and eager smile with Kipril, "we'll meet you at the palace!" They vanished in a flash of light, leaving the seeming villains to return to the real thing.

As the neophyte Messengers turned scoundrels entered the inn, the Duke's primary henchman handed Bayard a small flask with a cork stopper, instructing them, "find a way to get into the same room as the King, uncork the bottle, and enjoy the show!"

Bayard eyed the bottle skeptically, asking as he removed the stopper, "like this?"

"No!" screamed the henchman in terror, "You fool, you have doomed us all!"

Out slithered what appeared to be a large serpent wrought of dark mist, it hissed in derision as it took in the scene, before latching on to the nearest personage, namely the vile henchman. The villain grew suddenly misty, his cries of horror and his railings against his so-called lackeys growing fainter until both the villain himself and his expostulations vanished utterly from the mortal earth. The shadowy snake seemed to grow slightly larger, what appeared to be vestigial wings and legs had sprouted after its first meal and it eyed the others keenly. The boys exchanged a horrified look, at the henchman's fate rather than at the monster they had unleashed, before smiling wryly and shrugging quizzically as they unveiled their radiant forms, reducing all and sundry to so much nothingness. When the innkeeper finally returned to his inn after an errand that had gone quite awry, necessitating a rather long absence on his part, he found nothing amiss and was none the wiser it had been a rather eventful day therein.

The Duke was rather aghast when the Captain and his Lieutenant rode into the courtyard of the castle, having been assured by his henchman that he would certainly tie up those particular loose ends; he was even more troubled when the Prince and his companion arrived not very long thereafter. So august a person was hardly to be found speaking to anyone in so common and public a place as the palace courtyard, but so confounded was the Duke that he did just that. Said he to his nephew, as the lad dismounted, "I would appreciate a word with you, Sire, if I might? Bring your companion and the Captain and his Lieutenant as well."

"Certainly, uncle," said the boy solemnly, as if nothing untoward had happened between them. The man gave him a final, frustrated glance before retreating to a private room that they might settle this matter once and for all. The prince trotted up to the guardsmen and said, "we have been summoned to a meeting with my uncle and he requests that you attend as well."

"We'd be delighted," smiled the Captain grimly, exchanging a mischievous smile with Kipril, "lead on Sire."

The boy was about to protest such formality, especially from the Captain, but he then remembered no one else knew of his sudden reassignment in both rank and station, so he did the proper thing and nodded gravely, before striding off as if he truly was still in charge. Said Kipril to Bayard as they brought up the rear, "you have settled matters with his henchman?"

Bayard shuddered, but said, "that matter is rectified, I believe only the Duke remains to be dealt with."

"Which we are en route to do," smiled the Prince grimly, he paused before the appropriate door and knocked; they entered when bidden to do so.

As Kipril shut the door behind them, the Duke leapt to his feet and went for the throat of the matter, if not the Prince's own, as he might prefer, "what is this? The lot of you should be dead, two of you I personally watched die!"

Garren felt no qualms in exercising his authority now that they were alone with the villain, the Prince equally happy to resign his mortal responsibility in such a matter, little knowing how to treat with such an individual, being both significantly younger and less experienced, as well as family. Said the Captain grimly, "by your own admission, sir, you are a murderer and a traitor! How do you wish this to end?"

"How can I be a murderer when the victims live still?" retorted he coldly, "When you yourself betrayed your young master yet you are not to face justice?"

"Have you any wish to repent of your evil?" queried Garren, ignoring these most interesting legal tangents. At the hideous sneer that suddenly contorted the man's features into something barely human, Garren bowed his head and said, "so be it!" For the second time in as many hours, Ithril and Bayard were reduced to so much nothingness, along with everyone else in that room, but regrettably for the Duke, he was not like to recover very easily therefrom, even though the others soon appeared as if nothing untoward had happened, but considering their new occupation, nothing had.

The three looked to the Captain hopefully, wondering what next was to be done, for they could not continue as they had begun, as if nothing strange had happened in the last few days, but he surprised them all, most especially himself, by saying just that, "I'm afraid we all must go back to our more regular duties and roles, my friends, at least for the immediate future. While the villainous uncle has been dealt with, I fear there's an even bigger disaster about to befall all we once knew and loved."

Ithril frowned pensively, "but why rectify this minor evil only to let the Kingdom fall to a greater one?"

The Captain shook his head grimly, "who are we to say what should or should not be? Only He can see all ends, we can only do as we know we must in the moment, knowing that in the End, all shall work out as it ought, no matter how dark or painful or confusing the middle of the tale, even still we must trust or flee forever beyond this broken and wretched world." They each saluted smartly before hieing themselves off to wherever it was they were supposed to be at that hour.

He wasn't much to look at, either for good or ill, he was as plain a man as had ever lived, you could study his features for a fortnight and forget them the first moment you looked away. He presented himself at the castle gates as a prosperous foreign merchant interested in expanding his business in the Kingdom and seeking an audience with the King to discuss just that, at his earliest convenience of course. But Kipril was not blind, though his eyes revealed nothing peculiar about the man, there was no hiding the evil ambiance engulfing his person, a veritable fog of malignancy. He hastened off to find the Captain and report this new arrival, wondering what was to be done in the matter.

"Nothing?!" said Kipril in astonishment, after having told his tale and receiving his orders.

Said the Captain sadly, "the King and his nobles must make their own decisions in what is to come, we can no more interfere in their actions than we could intervene if they decided to declare war on the next Kingdom over. We can deal out justice to a fiend that has already acted treacherously against others, but we can't stop men from making poor choices or doing foolish things; we can only warn and counsel in such circumstances, but we may act to protect others or mete out justice, if necessary, once the decisions have been made. If they choose to listen to this evil advisor, we cannot save the nation from plunging into darkness if they choose ill, though perhaps we can rescue a few souls from following their country into an endless and bitter night."

Had the villain used sorcery, threats, or treachery to gain his position of influence or to force the King to act as he desired, they might have done something to foil his plans, but as he only used words, twisted and false as they might be, they must let the King and his make their own choices and face the consequences thereof, much as it might pain them to do just that. So it was he gained for himself a position second only to the King in influence and power, cowing all the lesser nobles and advisors with his cunning, his genius, his mastery of the verbal arts, and his pure cruelty towards those who would hinder or cross him. The once peaceable Kingdom soon found itself upon the brink of war, the once just King grew to be a tyrant, and a wedge was driven between father and son, for though the boy couldn't physically thwart his father, he could still try to convince him to do otherwise.

"An example must be made, Sire," said the villain one day to the King, "if even your own son dares to publically stand against you, what will the meanest peasants soon dare? How is he to rule wisely in his turn if he cannot agree with his father's decisions now?"

"I agree that the boy is too outspoken," said the King, "but I am sure he will adjust his tone if we but speak with him."

"Have you not done so times beyond count?" queried the bland man.

"I have at that," sighed the King, "what would you have done?"

"The boy is regrettably a symptom, rather than the actual disease, Highness," said the man in feigned regret, "I fear all such must be dealt with before the entire Kingdom is infected!"

"I understand," said the King, "deal with all such as you must, let this rottenness be cleansed from the Realm lest it spread beyond repair!"

"It shall be done Majesty, and I shall trouble you no more thereupon!" said the man grimly, hiding his triumphant smile, "I shall see to it immediately." He bowed himself from the King's presence and went to cleanse the realm of heretics, a most delightful endeavor indeed! He went immediately to the Captain of the Guard and broached his intentions, the man grim and thoughtful as he spoke. Asked he after the interview, "I can count on you Captain?"

"I will do what I must sir," said he gravely, "have no fear of that."

"Excellent," said the nefarious advisor, "the boy will die tomorrow before the entire city as a warning, and afterwards we'll round up any other troublemakers and put them to a like fate. Anyone who does not fully support the King and his efforts will be dealt with accordingly!"

After the man left, Garren remained alone in the room, summoning his underlings with a glowing hand, said he, "we have work to do!" He outlined what was to come and sent them all elsewhither in another flash, himself included. Faster than thought, they went to every village and farm in the country, telling of what was to come, urging any and all to flee if they would, and to prepare for dreadful things to come if they would not. They gathered again in that little sitting room not a moment later, at least to the perception of the sofa in the corner, though to their perception it had likely been days or even a month, but what was time to a man beyond it?

"Must I die on the morrow?" sighed the Prince heavily, not that death was any longer a mortal threat to his person but rather he hated the thought of being made a public spectacle.

"I'm afraid so lad," said Garren grimly.

"At least they won't feed you to a demon squid this time around," quipped Bayard.

"You'll hang on the gallows right beside me," retorted Ithril, smiling in spite of himself.

"A far better fate than having to round up and execute any other so-called heretics left in the realm," said the Captain gravely.

The late Prince grimaced, "indeed! I'd hang a hundred times before choosing such a duty!"

Kipril smiled eagerly, despite everyone else's gravity, saying, "but I believe that will indeed be your fate after your just execution, my friends!" As this stunning idea settled into their heads, they could not help but share his eagerness and a smile of anticipation all around. Afterwards, the prince and Bayard allowed themselves to be cast into a cell in the dungeons whilst they awaited the morrow, while the looming spectacle was announced to everyone within a day's walk, that they must attend first thing in the morning and that any laggards would suffer a like fate, even if it meant walking all night.

So it was the Crown Prince was hanged as a warning to anyone and everyone that dissension would not be tolerated, while the Captain and his men were sent off to round up any would-be rebels and put them to the sword. As the company made ready to ride, two new recruits hastened up, asking if they might be of service. Garren smiled grimly and said, "indeed lads, I believe it is just the thing!"

Besides for Kipril, the whole company seemed like to be composed of neophytes, for the other pair of guardsmen had just been sent up from training to begin their careers with the guards stationed in the city. The pair seemed rather anxious about the mission upon which they were about to depart, for the Captain had not yet had a private moment to brief them thereupon, but before he could order them into their saddles, that they might ride off and do just that, another volunteer, or rather an official attaché from the King, informed them that he would be riding along, just to make sure things went as planned. Not happy to have such an officious person in their midst, but having no choice in the matter, Garren nodded grimly and said to Kipril, "you stay here Lieutenant, you're in command in my absence!"

"Yes, sir," said Kipril calmly, for he was well used to sudden and erratic changes in his orders, especially in their peculiar profession!

"You're only taking five men, sir?" queried the bland man, as uninteresting of face as the nefarious advisor that had insisted he come along as his eyes and ears upon this most delicious excursion.

Garren finished adjusting a final strap on his horse's tack, and said as he swung himself into the saddle, "six men compose a regular patrol, any more than that and the folk dwelling in the outlying areas might suspect something irregular; we do not want mass panic or armed rebellion or to give anyone early warning that something is amiss that they might flee ere their doom falls upon them."

"Excellent," mused the secretarial creature, "most excellent! You will go far in what is to come, sir, indeed you will! What of our business once we find heretics that must be dealt with? I would prefer a public spectacle that others might take heed, much as the young prince and his servant endured, but perhaps your idea of stealth is to be preferred?"

"Indeed," said Garren, ordering the little company forward, "we can deal with those we must quietly, but leave our handiwork to be discovered by the locals at some later time, giving them ample warning but also keeping things quiet that others discover their impending doom only too late."

"What of those within the city and its surrounding villages?" queried the man.

"They've had their warning with the prince's execution," said Garren stonily, "we'll give them a bit of time to mull over the possibilities, whilst we deal with any rebels the countryside might boast, and then return to see what sort of a decision they have come to."

"Very good," said the man, "it seems an excellent plan, that we may deal with any rebellion or heretics that might be brewing or hiding in the outlying provinces, that the city-dwellers of such a persuasion not fly thereto for succor and to swell their ranks. You are certainly a man to be reckoned with sir!"

Garren made no comment save to nod grimly and urge his horse to a faster pace, one that made speaking difficult, for he had much to think upon. He hated leaving the two newcomers to stew so long in their own disquiet, but there was nothing for it with that proctor of a heartless villain along, or was there? An idea suddenly occurred to him as it seemingly had to Bayard, he caught the boy's questioning gaze and he nodded curtly, the boy reached out a tentative hand, touching the rump of the horse in front of his, the one upon which their overseer sat. Both horse and rider vanished in a sudden flash, so quickly neither was aware that anything had happened until it was over, if even then, for when the pair returned a few minutes later, the man blinked in surprise and glanced about questioningly, but seeing nothing amiss, shook his head and seemed to be chiding himself for his sudden fancies, or worse, nearly falling asleep in his saddle! The little company rode on in silence, all save the villain trying to hide their vast amusement, but of the few hints of mirth that escaped their best efforts at concealment, said villain merely assumed to be in anticipation of their coming duties, for he himself was equally eager, if better able to hide it than these mere, giddy youths.

But in the interim, when they had the road and company quite to themselves, Garren smiled brightly and drew rein, much enjoying the lads' wide eyed wonder, but also eager to put their hearts at ease about what was soon to be asked of them, terrible as it would seem. "You'll see stranger things yet, lads," said he, "you've volunteered for a mission both great and terrible, but it isn't as dreadful as your imaginations at the moment make it."

"You speak of our current orders from the King, sir?" quavered one of the newcomers, Tobin by name.

"Of course not," chuckled the Captain, "else why would we need to ditch his representative for a few moments that we might collude against them?"

"But you helped hang the very Prince!" protested the other, called Brin.

"That wasn't even the first time!" laughed Garren, eyeing the two silent Messengers, who were grinning like pleased cats. At his significant look, they donned the faces to which they had been born, eliciting another gasp from the two lads, but there was now a light of eagerness in those previously terrified and anxious eyes.

"I even served twenty years in straits like unto yourselves," continued Garren, "so well do I understand your perplexing situation: called to something greater yet trapped within the confines of mortality." At their confused look, he nodded to Ithril, who touched the nearest lad on the shoulder with a glowing hand, eliciting the Mark on his hand to flash likewise. Garren continued, "you're both Marked thus, and when death finally takes you, you will fully enter this service, until then mortal men you shall remain, if Messengers still. And we'll have need of your peculiar service in what is to come."

"What do you mean?" asked Tobin, "What can we do that you cannot yourselves, being possessed of such strange powers and abilities as you are?"

Garren drew his sword and smote the boy in two, or he would have, if his weapon had not been as feckless as a sunbeam in such an instance. Said he gravely, "we cannot injure a hair on a mortal head or do anything to thwart a mortal will, save in meting out justice or protecting others. It will be your responsibility to kill anyone whose time has come."

"You're asking us to murder any of these so-called heretics that fall afoul of this company?!" said Brin in horror.

"Not I, but our Master," said Garren quietly, he smiled wistfully, "the same was asked of me not very long ago." He exchanged reminiscent smiles with the Prince and Bayard, and briefly recounted his own adventures. "There's something much bigger than we can yet comprehend at work in this matter, but fear not that you will be asked to truly murder an innocent, rather I believe you'll merely be initiating a few of our comrades upon this most intriguing journey."

"What is to come of all this, sir?" asked Bayard, "I believe you are quite right in thinking there will be any number of us, stationed throughout the realm, but to what end?"

"A great and terrible darkness, lad," said the Captain grimly, "one even worse than the King's current tyranny and injustice. One he'll unwittingly welcome in and that we alone have the power to fight, at least of those yet resident within the mortal sphere. But we'll fight that war when it comes, for the moment, we have our current battle to consider. Have you any questions, lads?"

"Too many," smiled the wide-eyed Tobin, "but I doubt even you have an answer to them."

"How did you wait so long, at least how were you able to endure it patiently, before your own adventures began in earnest?" asked Brin.

"I didn't endure it as patiently as you think I did," grinned the Captain ruefully, "but I had my duties to be about in the interim and there was no sense rushing things, especially when my odd predicament would be needed at a particular where and when, no matter how frustrating to myself personally. Learn from my mistake and await that day with patience and grace, it will make it much easier upon yourself and those you are sent to help. Just because it hasn't happened yet, doesn't mean you don't have your duties to be about. It will make the wait much easier and faster, should you focus on that rather than what is yet to come. He has spoken, which means it is a concrete fact, if not yet fulfilled to our temporal sensibilities, rest in that and you will do well!"

"We're still being asked to kill innocent men?" said Tobin uneasily.

"For a greater purpose, yes," said Bayard grimly, "else I think they would just be slaughtered by evil or greedy men. Each and every village and distant farm has had warning of this day, and hopefully all such 'heretics' have taken the initiative and fled forthwith, leaving only those who know it their duty to stay."

"It's still terrible," sighed Brin, "but we'll do as we must."

"We dwell in a broken and ruined world, lad," said Garren quietly, "death, sorrow, evil, cruelty, and wickedness will often seem to triumph, at least until that final Day when our Master puts all shadows and tears forever to flight and restores things to the way they were meant to be!" They exchanged an eager cheer, but immediately turned their horses, resuming their journey and positions within the company, and donned grave solemnity and their former visage, if necessary, as the vile fellow suddenly appeared again in their midst. The two newest recruits no longer felt uneasy within themselves about this odd mission, but still had much to think upon, if of a very different nature than their previous ignorance and the horrid mission initially presented to them.

They rode for the full day, coming upon a small village as evening gathered about them, most of the local folk having already gone withindoors for their evening meal, but a young man met them boldly in the road, declaring, "I know what it is you intend! Be gone from here, your evil will avail you nothing. Trouble not my folk!"

Garren nodded to Bayard and Tobin, who dismounted, the latter drawing his sword and looking rather nervous. Bayard said quietly, "it will be as it must." The boy nodded grimly and thrust the intrepid young man through with his sword.

The boy collapsed with a groan of agony, decrying their villainy even with his dying breath, but soon enough he lay limp and vacant eyed alongside the road. "Excellent," said the aide happily, "such shall be the fate of all such rebels. Let's turn in at the inn and confront the rest of the villagers on the morrow." He eyed the two soldiers afoot and ordered, "drag that carrion off somewhere that it won't be discovered until we are well gone from here." They saluted smartly as the rest of the party rode off towards the inn, exchanging an eager glance as they vanished into the shadows with their victim.

Once well away from any unwitting observers, Bayard's hand began to glow and he touched the murdered boy's shoulder. He awoke with a start, at first anxious to again be face to face with his killers, but innately knowing they could in nowise hurt him again. "You will regret this," said he stonily, rising to his feet, "my Master will see that your treachery and schemes come to nothing!"

"Who do you think it was that sent us?" queried Bayard with a grin, much astonishing the stranger, never thinking to see such a merry and innocent expression on what he thought was an enemy's face.

The boy frowned thoughtfully, "I can see the Mark on your companion's hand, but what of you?"

Bayard raised a glowing hand and grinned broadly, "how do you think it is you live again so soon after your recent demise? I could see the Mark upon your own hand before your death, even if you could not."

"But you killed me!" protested the boy, still disbelieving, but for wonder rather than horror.

Bayard smiled wryly, "as were the Prince and myself sent to what seemed a senseless death, but Greater Things were in store, as they are for you and your village. Did not the rest of your folk, of a similar persuasion, flee when warned to do so?"

"Yes," said the boy thoughtfully, "though I knew it my duty to remain behind, knowing it would be the death of me." He studied his ordinary hand quizzically, and with a brilliant smile, suddenly it was alight just like Bayard's had been. He looked curiously to his companions and asked, "what now is to come?"

"A great and terrible darkness," said Bayard, "remain here and prepare as you know you must!" He added with a grin, "your folk will know nothing of your demise, so you can even remain in your original guise, but if you should wish to join us at the inn tonight, you'll have to come as a stranger, though I doubt we'll do more than pretend to sleep."

"What of the rest of your company?" queried the boy.

"There is one man representing the King's interests but the rest of us are Messengers, one the Captain himself and two unquickened, else we could not so easily deal out death to those least deserving of it," replied Bayard.

"You won't find anyone else to kill," said the boy thoughtfully, "one house in three sits empty, for all such fled when the warning came, already having heard rumors of evil tidings in the City and being uneager to meet them when they rode abroad."

"Such shall it be," mused Bayard, a mite prophetically, "in all the towns throughout the realm! You are the first, but far from the last, my friend. Remain at your post and act as you know you must."

"Thank you, my friends," this last was particularly directed at Tobin, who smiled ruefully and dropped his abashed gaze.

Bayard laughed brightly, "he's never killed a man before, nor thought to be thanked for the favor!" They all joined in his mirth, before exchanging bright grins, and vanishing about their various duties.

As Bayard and Tobin seated themselves at the table whereat the rest of the company sat, Bayard said to Garren's quizzical look, "all is well in hand, sir."

"Very good," said the Captain, unable to hide the eagerness in his voice and eyes, before addressing their vile companion, "what now?"

"I'm glad to see your eagerness for your orders, sir," said he, "it speaks well of what is to come. We'll speak with the innkeeper tonight and any other town gossips we can find, then tomorrow we'll process through the bulk of the villagefolk and see what other dissenters we can find."

But their interview with the innkeeper was not as fruitful as the man hoped, for he was as puzzled in the matter as the man himself, said the innkeeper, "they just up and fled sir, weeks ago! Any of that sort are long fled, save one vociferous boy, but he'll no doubt find you soon if he hasn't already."

"Who warned them?!" said the man in astonishment.

The innkeeper shook his head, "I know not their names or even their station in life, just bland seeming men, appeared suddenly in the village some weeks back, declaring that now was the time to flee if we loved our lives, and vanishing just as mysteriously and quickly as they had come. It was as if some of our folk just went mad, or mayhap fell under some spell, for they just up and left!"

"I do not like this," said the man to Garren with a grim shake of his head, "how is it they have had early warning of what was to come? There must be a traitor in our midst!"

"But at least they are gone from the realm sir," said Garren reasonably, "is that not our goal?"

"Quite true," said the man, seemingly mollified but still somewhat disappointed, "though I had hoped for a more permanent solution, but then the fools can only flee so far, once this Kingdom has been pacified, we will move our influence beyond its borders until the whole world is of one mind and accord! They will be dealt with, now or later, it little matters which!" He then turned their attention to the meal and then sought his bed, sharing a room with the Captain whilst his underlings were packed into another down the hall, which prevented Garren from having any part in whatever mischief they might get up to whilst everyone else was abed, but then that was probably befitting his status as an officer anyway, alas the burdens of command!

Once alone, the four eagerly drew together to talk of the day's revelations and events, pausing only a moment that Bayard might summon their newest comrade with a glowing hand, that he might have his part in their conversation. He glanced about cautiously, as if unsure if either such a dread thing as an evil henchman or a Captain of the Messengers might be lurking about, but seeing only four youthful, grinning faces, he relaxed and queried, "a conspiracy?"

"Of Joy!" said Bayard happily, "Welcome aboard, sir! As we are all so new at this and know little of one another, let us begin by exchanging tales, and then venture whither we would." He quickly recounted his adventures with the Prince and Captain, such as they were, and then looked expectantly at the newcomer.

He smiled abashedly and said, "my tale is in nowise so grand or terrible, I fear. I'm just a village boy, having believed the old stories from my youth, along with all my family. When you three appeared to warn us that doom was nigh, my folk immediately made preparations to leave, but I was uneasy at such a prospect, not that I didn't believe your message, but rather I felt it my duty to remain. My parents were aghast that I wouldn't go with them, but they seemed to understand at the last, fleeing with my younger siblings." He sighed heavily, "at least our parting is not forever," he grinned brightly at his companions, "and I seem to have found a family of a different sort!"

He grew grave and continued, "like your Captain, I was accosted by a little bird, and He told me what was to come if I stayed, but also promised that it would be much to the benefit of not only the other villagers but also to the world! What was my life to that? Of course I said yes, and here we are!"

Tobin shared a wry smile with Brin, wondering who would have to tell their own, not that there was much very glorious in their own story either, but at last Tobin said, "we grew up in the same village and have been friends for as long as we could remember, and being younger sons neither of us had a chance at either the family farm or business passing to us, so we entered the training program for the Royal Guard. We had been there about six months when the same Bird appeared to us, saying we could risk our lives and set out upon a mission He would set us, else we could go about our business as had formerly been our wont. Obviously we agreed, though neither of us had any idea what it meant or where it would take us at the time, or even that anything had even changed about our persons, but the man in charge of our training was in nowise so blind.

He cornered us one afternoon and demanded to know what we were about, but at our confounded looks he declared, 'you don't even know, do you?! Well, I'll see to your training and then send you off for someone else to deal with!' He told us of the unseen Marks on our hands and what they might portend for our futures. As soon as our training was complete, he sent us to the City to officially join the guard, saying in parting, 'the Captain is in on our secret lads, him and his Lieutenant both, you can trust them with not only your lives but your very souls as well! Fare thee well!'

No sooner had we arrived than we were sent off again on this dreadful venture," here he grinned wryly, "though it is in nowise so dreadful as we had imagined. Our teacher's words about the Captain were the only reason we agreed to ride off on such a quest without protest, and his words to us after leaving the City verified that we were in good hands, if our mission was still of a terrible and peculiar sort, at least it would not condemn our souls!"

Said the newcomer in wonder, "so you're just going to ride around the entire realm killing anyone the Captain says to?"

"Have you a better idea?" asked Brin.

"No," smiled the boy, "I'm just glad such a duty isn't mine!"

"But to be left here alone, waiting for some horrid evil to fall upon the realm?!" said Ithril in dread.

"I believe we are each of us well suited to that which will be asked of us, my friends," assured Bayard, "though we may not relish someone else's assignment, we must remember it is indeed theirs and not ours!"

"And no matter how alone we feel," said Brin, "that is certainly not the case, for not only do we have our comrades but He is ever with us, though perhaps not in a visible form."

"Now what?" asked the village lad.

Brin shrugged, "I guess we will continue on our merry way, murdering as we go and you'll remain here, warding your folk against the darkness to come."

"In the meantime," grinned Tobin, "we have the entire night to speak as we will." And so they did, but as the wan light of dawn crept in through the window, the newest Messenger bade them all goodnight and vanished from view, apparently ghosting through the wall as well.

"He learns quickly," mused Bayard.

But all further comment was stifled, as the door was thrown open and the King's man intruded upon them, their Captain at his shoulder, said he without preamble, "it is good to see you lads are up and ready to go, for we've a lot of work to do ere we can resume our saddles." Garren smiled impishly over the man's shoulder, schooling his face to blandness when the man turned to go, eager for his breakfast. The four lads exchanged a merry, conspiratorial smile behind his back and followed like so many ducklings in their Captain's wake.

They found nary a heretic, a rebel, nor a discontent amongst the remaining villagefolk, gossip and their own interviews had yielded nothing, so they rode off after the noon meal towards the next hamlet on their itinerary and found there matters exactly as they had in the previous village, and so with the next two thereafter. "This is most troubling," said their token spy, "there must be a better and more efficient use of our time! All this effort for one heretic per village is rather ridiculous! I'll ride back to the City immediately to see what the King would have done, perhaps the time has come for greater things?!" With this, he threw himself into his saddle and galloped off the way they had come, the rest of the company exchanging a grim look, knowing whatever greater things the man thought might be coming, would only be great in the most terrible sense of the word.

Garren shuddered at the very thought, but the world had not been left to face such terrors alone, rather he and his comrades were preparing for just that and his Master was greater than any malice or evil or chaos the Evil One or his minions might choose to unleash, indeed, He had already won, they only awaited the Day when His triumph was final and all sorrow and wretchedness would be utterly overthrown and forgotten ever after, but until that wondrous Day, they had their own duties to be about and their own minor battles to fight. He glanced at the corpse at their feet and nodded to Ithril, "you'd best rouse our friend."

The boy awoke with a start, staring up into the smiling faces of his killers, he blinked and then blinked again, then sat up and frowned at the lot of them. What kind of maniacs were these, to first kill a man and then to stand there smiling like madmen as he wakened again to life? He paused over that thought, realizing both that he was dead yet also alive, their amused smiles seemed to deepen as this perplexing thought showed itself on his face. He stared at them again and at last Garren burst out with a laugh, "easy lad, you've had quite an interesting day, and if you'd like to discover exactly what is going on, you'd best get on your feet and take us somewhere that we might talk alone and at length."

"Certainly," said the boy, leaping to his feet, seemingly none the worse for wear, though the same could not be said of his tunic, he even managed a wry grin, if a wan specimen, "you've already killed me, what worse could you do?"

"Exactly," said the Captain, motioning for the lad to lead on, as he took them back to his empty house, he the sole occupant since the rest of his family had fled.

Once the so-called villains were all seated comfortably around the table, he turned on them, going on the offensive, "what is going on? Who are you people?"

"You mean who are we," quipped Bayard with a vast smile, amusement alight in his eyes, "actually, it should be, 'who are we, sir?' For is not this the very Captain of the Messengers?"

The boy sat suddenly in the last vacant chair, glancing from one smiling face to the next, shaking his head as if trying to clear it, but it didn't seem to help, for nothing made any sense whatsoever, at last he tried to clarify, "I'm dead?" They all nodded happily. "You killed me?" Again, many a well satisfied nod. "I'm alive?" Nods all around. "I'm not crazy?" Vastly amused smiles upon each face, but no one nodded an affirmative. "You aren't villains?" They each laughed aloud at the very thought, the sound of such bright joy at last easing his stricken sensibilities, for no villain could ever hope to laugh like that, whatever else was afoot!

"Easy lad," said Garren with a gentle smile, "we all felt the same at the first, but you'll soon get used to the peculiarities that pass for normal in this occupation. Welcome to the Messengers!"

"Thank you, sir," said the boy wanly, smiling in vast relief, "though I must say this is certainly a strange way of recruiting!"

"It wasn't how I thought matters would play out either," smiled Garren wryly, "we can but trust and do as we know we must, knowing all will work out as He wills it, rather than as we think it should be. What matter our assumptions about anything?"

"So we're just going to wait around here until that villain returns?" asked Ithril of the Captain.

"So it would seem," agreed Garren, "though I don't see why we can't put the time to good use, as it isn't very difficult for us to thwart time or space, have we a desire or need. We'd best warn our comrades scattered around the country of what is to come."

"Worser things," whispered Bayard grimly.

"Exactly," agreed Garren, "with such heavy recruiting for the Messengers in the Kingdom, there must be a reason, and the most likely possibility is the sudden advent of foes against whom only we can stand, else the Master could rely on His mortal servants to do whatever it was that needed doing."

"What are you anticipating, sir?" asked Tobin wanly, "What sort of worser things?"

"Whatever the evil variant of a Messenger is," said Garren grimly, "likely men beyond death, just as we are, possessed of who knows what fell powers?" His smile became eager and fierce, and glad were those boys that it was not directed at them personally, "But our Master's power is stronger still!" A rousing cheer echoed through the little cottage at this, bringing the town gossip at the gallop, eager to see what she was missing.

Their host suddenly vanished from sight as the nosy neighbor poked her head in the window, asked she querulously, taking in everything and everyone in the room, "now who are you lot and what are you doing making such a racket?"

"We're the King's own guardsmen, madam," said Garren, "awaiting the return of one of our company who has gone back to the City for further orders."

"Is someone in trouble?" asked she eagerly.

"That's just the problem," grinned he wryly, "we came looking for troublemakers and can't find any!"

"Indeed?!" said she in a scandalized tone, "I could certainly apprise you of any number that deserve to be locked in the deepest dungeon or have their heads sundered from their shoulders, if you'd care to hear all about it?"

"I'm sorry madam," said he politely, "but we can't act until our companion returns and who knows what our orders will then be, but I thank you for your kind offer of insight and you shall certainly be the first we consult upon this matter, have we need of your advice."

"I was only trying to help," hissed she like a sodden cat, "just keep it down, we're a quiet, law abiding community and don't need such giddy youths upsetting our usual peace!" He could only bow politely and try valiantly to quash a grin.

Their host reappeared, grinning in wonder, said he, "I don't even know what it is I did!"

Garren smiled dryly, "get used to it lad, if there's a need, you'll discover all sorts of curious talents or knowledge you never before possessed. As far as our vile companion is concerned, you're dead, and if that old gossip had seen you alive after the fact, things could get interesting." He glanced round at his minions and said, "let's make sure we don't have any more unwitting visitors, make sure the windows and doors are all shut and locked, then we'll have an official meeting."

Quick as thought, the lads zipped about the house and made sure it was secure, then joined their Captain in the main living area, and with a wondrous burst of light, the house was suddenly full of people, most of whom had no idea what was going on or who these strangers were, but even so, eager for what was to come, hoping for answers in a deepening dusk of chaos and evil. Garren scanned the avid faces, most as new to himself as his was to them, most bore a Mark on their palm, proclaiming them to be mortal men. He smiled widely at his old teacher from his training days, nodded at their most recent recruits, and then faced the as yet unknown and unquickened Messengers that composed the bulk of their company, grinning broadly as Kipril hastened forward and saluted very properly, taking his usual place just behind his Captain's shoulder.

"Welcome gentlemen," began Garren, "I am sure you have questions, and while I have a few answers, there is still much none of us know of a certain. I've called this meeting to apprise you of what little we do know and what you can expect in the coming days as the darkness deepens and greater horrors loom upon the horizon." He glanced questioningly to his lieutenant and asked, "what is afoot in the City?"

"Dreadful things, sir," said the lieutenant, "even worse than the errand you were sent upon. That vile fellow advising the King is but the vanguard of worser things, he's urging the King to take the next step and officially allow undead horrors freely into his realm, to encourage his best and brightest citizens to join rank with the vile things!" He looked grimly upon his Captain and said, "there is much talk of making you the first, sir."

"And those will be the orders our company's spy will return with, no doubt," nodded Garren in sudden comprehension. He smiled grimly and added, "we'll do what we must! It will certainly be interesting, I wonder how our more curious nature will mix with such black sorcery?"

"Be at peace, children!" said that pert little Bird, suddenly perched on the Captain's shoulder, "No matter what darkness descends or whatever peculiar duty is asked of you, ever am I with you. Dark will be the coming night, but that only means when Dawn comes at last, it will be the brighter! Trust Me and you need fear nothing, even the horrors that will soon be unleashed upon this Kingdom of men."

He vanished as suddenly as He had come, the whole company exchanged a wondering sigh, but it was some minutes before any of them could speak, for so wonderful was that Presence none wanted to break the spell wrought by even the memory thereof, but at last Garren said with a broad, eager smile, "there you have it, gentlemen, from the Master Himself! Know the night will grow darker ere the dawn, terrible things may be asked of some of us, but we'll know what we must, when we must. Most of you have yet to fully enter this service, but know you are Messengers still, if still wrought of flesh and blood. Don't despair when it seems utter ruin has fallen upon you, for death for us is but the beginning. Be patient, but I do not think it will be very long before each and every one of you will have officially joined our ranks, until that day, know you stand not alone, for He is ever with each of us and you have many comrades throughout the realm!"

They exchanged eager smiles all around and he sent them back to whatever business this little meeting had interrupted, saving only Kipril and their old teacher. Said the latter brightly, "it seems you have finally come into your own, lad!"

Garren snorted wryly, "as if it is any of my doing!"

"Aye lad," agreed the older man, "remember that and you'll do well indeed."

Asked the Captain of his Lieutenant, "what passes in the City with this ghastly business you broached?"

"Right now it is only conjecture and discussions amongst the elite," said Kipril, "but a fair number seem to think if it should or must happen, you're the man who should usher in this new era."

"I'm dispensable if things go awry," smiled the Captain grimly, "and am seen as utterly loyal to the King, thus I would take such an order without question, and whatever results, I'd hopefully still be amenable to his wishes thereafter." Turning to the older man, Garren asked, "what is happening with our training program?"

Said the man with a grim shake of his head, "most of my best recruits ran off when you lot warned them to do just that. The remainder will likely fall easily into line with whatever their superiors deem right, proper, and necessary, as long as there's a profit in it for them or fear for their lives or a lust for power will urge them on to greater and greater evils."

"Thank you, gentlemen," said Garren with a grave nod, dismissing them back to their usual posts and turning to face his remaining comrades, asked he gravely, "and what of you lads?"

Said Tobin quietly, "I believe when that spy returns, he'll order you to do just what the Lieutenant said, and we'll be the ones paying the blood price."

"And have you any objection to paying the price for my own fell power?" mused Garren wryly.

"None at all sir," laughed Brin, "we tire of doing your dirty work and it will be a nice change just to lie down and die for once, rather than murdering anyone you deem a nuisance."

"Good henchmen are so hard to find," sighed the Captain sadly, eliciting a laugh from everyone therein, much relieving the sudden gravity that seemed to hold them all in its thrall.

Eventually said villain finally returned, nearly bouncing in his saddle in anticipation, said he even before he had fully dismounted, "I've the most wonderful news, sir! The King himself has asked a very particular favor of you and your men, and of course you must say yes!"

"The King's merest whim is as much an order to me and mine as the most direct command," said Garren wryly, "what is this curious boon?"

"There is a way for you to become a fell warrior indeed, sir," said the man excitedly, "a creature of absolute power, one that cannot die or even be stopped by a mortal man!"

"Let's be about it then," said Garren grimly, wondering how exactly this would mesh with his uncanny nature, but a little bird flew past and assured, "have no doubts nor fears child, for I will accomplish all as it must be done!" His smile grew eager indeed, at least until they forced him to lie atop a convenient stone and cut out his heart, something he didn't think he any longer possessed, miracle indeed! But instead of passing into darkness and death, he suddenly leapt to his feet, easily throwing aside the half dozen guardsmen the spy had brought with him to see that the King's orders were fulfilled in regards to their Captain.

"This is certainly curious," said Garren at last, studying the horrified and eager faces staring at the monstrosity they had just helped birth. Tobin lay upon an adjacent stone, his throat cut to fuel these vile magicks, he glanced dreadfully at Brin and said, "but why stop now?"

"Yes!" said the henchman in greatest glee, as the guardsmen restrained both Bayard and Ithril for their turn while another finished the horrified Brin. The gruesome business was quickly finished, leaving three hideous warriors, two corpses, the henchman, and his six guardsmen in the little dell where they had taken cover for the proceedings. "The King will be delighted!" said the henchman, nearly dancing in anticipation.

"Will he?" queried Garren, "Think you that such a monster must any longer abide by his will or whims?"

"Certainly!" said the man, but a shudder of pure terror betrayed the stony calm in his voice.

"I think not," said Garren, with a hideous permutation of what might have been a smile, "if he thinks to meddle in affairs beyond mortal ken, he shouldn't be surprised to learn that such dabblings will soon bring his life, reign, and kingdom to naught!" He roared in terrifying triumph, "scamper home little dog and tell your master that I am coming! And that is a very bad thing indeed, at least for him!" The man squeaked in terror and raced off upon the wings of fear, leapt into his saddle, and dashed back to the City with all haste.

"Well done, sir," laughed Kipril, putting the terrified guardsmen much at ease, but as he roused the dead and the three horrors donned the visage of common men, they truly began to relax in seeing the evils of the day so easily rectified.

"Welcome Home, lads," said Garren brightly to their newest comrades as they awoke from death, then he eyed the five remaining guardsmen before turning his questioning gaze upon Kipril.

Said the Lieutenant with a laugh, "after our meeting, five of the Marked lads seemingly followed me back to the City rather than back to their villages, and there we waited until your spy arrived and ordered us to accompany him back here for this messy little demonstration." He smiled grimly, "I must say it was quite thoroughly ghastly, sir and your performance perfectly terrifying, hopefully it will scare the King into recanting of this terrible evil!"

"Perhaps he will not hereafter demand such of his own folk," sighed Garren, "but that does not mean he can so easily slam the door on such fiends when he has personally invited them into his realm!"

"Hence our presence," said Kipril grimly, but there was also much eagerness therein.

Asked his Captain in puzzlement, "you are looking forward to clashing with such foes, to the destruction and chaos they will unleash in this realm?"

"I look forward to it as a soldier looks forward to a war sir," said the Lieutenant solemnly, "he does not love the death and devastation it unleashes in his homeland, but it is what he was born and educated to do, and eager is he to do just that, it is what his whole life has aspired to."

"And we are indeed soldiers," mused Garren, "in a war that spans far beyond space and time, but it has verily invaded our own corner of reality, and while we hate the destruction it brings, it was for this we were recruited and for now, it is our duty and our honor, to fight those evils against whom men are helpless. We did not start this war nor wish for it to touch all we hold dear, but we can do our best to counter it and minimize the devastation it brings in its wake, and there is nothing wrong in finding joy in doing our duty and sparing others from sorrow, evil, and death!"

"What lovely sentiments," snarled a horrid thing, an exact, hideous copy of the creatures the Captain and his underlings had portrayed only a few moments before, but this one was real. Continued the monstrosity, "which makes them all the more delightful to utterly destroy!"

"Come, thing!" said Garren with relish, unsheathing his sword, eager as he never had been to confront a mortal foe.

"Gladly, wretch!" spat the monster, unsheathing its own blade, but as it approached it cut a swath through the trembling guardsmen like a scythe through a grain field, at the senior Messengers' horrified looks, it laughed like an agonal gasp, and said, "And now it is your turn! Such shall be the fate of every mortal in this Kingdom!"

"I think not," laughed Garren in anticipation, his blade meeting that of the horrid thing, while Kipril's glowing hand was busy amongst the dead, but rather than regaining their feet and watching the terrible battle in wonder, instead they vanished entirely, presumably back to their villages, to ward them against just such an incursion. Garren took that dead black blade in the chest and vanished in a brilliant flash, momentarily blinding his foe, leaving it an easy target for Kipril's sword, which he swiftly buried in the thing's back. It vanished in a black flash, leaving Kipril and the four junior Messengers alone in that little dell.

"Did that thing just destroy the Captain?!" said Bayard in horror.

Kipril smiled broadly and summoned back Garren, who appeared in a flash, glancing about eagerly for his foe, but at his Lieutenant's smug smile, he scowled in feigned ire and said, "you can't just filch my villains whenever you feel like it!"

"Sorry sir," said Kipril wryly, turning suddenly grave he added, "but I fear we'll all have more than enough to do in the coming days!" They all exchanged an eager smile and vanished wherever they had a need to be at that particular moment.

One last, shuddering breath and the obstreperous boy lay still at the monster's feet, now for the rest of the village, but the horror had only taken a few steps before the former corpse was on his feet, a radiant sword in his hand, with which he soon banished the monster from the village. He swathed his radiant form in bland mortality, the sword vanished as suddenly as it had come, and he disappeared into the looming shadows of evening, ready for the creature's return.

The boy lay dying, where he had fallen when the hideous skeletal warrior had run him through, but he could do nothing to protect his own folk, he could do little enough to help himself. The pain from his wound was an agony, but worse were the screams of his folk as they suffered a like fate, and he unable to do anything about it! "Peace, child!" said that peculiar avian thing, lighting on the ground before the stricken boy, "This evil is not of your making."

"Will You not save them?" panted the moribund boy through his tears, he had initially thought to ask if He could save them, but that was folly, of course He could, but why wasn't He?

"There is much I could do to stop pain, suffering, and evil in this broken world, child," said He quietly, "but if I step in and rescue everyone from every bad decision and evil choice they make, if I remove all the consequences for their evil and folly, what will happen?"

"They will ever continue, never considering that their own ill thoughts and actions are responsible for the wretched state of their lives and souls and the world in general," mused the boy, distracted for a moment from all other considerations, "much as a spoiled child will never learn discipline, self-control, and consideration for others."

"Precisely," said He, "but they are in nowise alone or abandoned either, for have I not made provision for their evils, a way to be free of their sin, an escape from eternal darkness?"

"You, Yourself, died to pay the very price of our evil, Sir," sighed the wretched boy heavily, "yet they refuse to avail themselves of it, preferring to live as they see fit!"

"And when evil things come amongst them?" queried the little bird.

"They indeed see how futile was their hope in themselves and anything native to this material world!" said the boy, feeling the darkness crouching for its final spring.

"And when the same evil befalls you?" queried the bird eagerly.

"I fret that the Greater Things do not come as swiftly as I would have them..." he trailed off, slumping in death, but the Magpie blew full on his face, and before flitting off, ordered joyously, "go save them, child, and remind them that those who choose to live in the light need not fear the shadows, even the very specter of death!" The boy offered a hasty salute, and quick as thought, he was standing between the monster and its next victims.

The exhausted and terrified spy stumbled into the inn, he and his horse unable to go further lest they collapse and never rise more, and his message never reach the King. It had all started so wonderfully, this stubborn, independent, chaotic Kingdom was swiftly organizing into an efficient, united machine that would spread order, and the resulting prosperity, throughout the world, but to his horror, only too late did he discover that the dream was actually a nightmare, that what he hoped would be a glorious dawn for the human race was actually the end of all things. He collapsed in a chair and ordered something from the barmaid, hoping he had been comprehensible, lest he inadvertently end with a boiled boot for his supper!

As he waited for his dinner, someone invited himself over and sat boldly at his table, but he didn't mind, indeed, a real, human presence was exactly what he needed at the moment, lest the memory of those horrid monsters drive sanity and hope fully from his mind, but this wasn't that sort of person. It wasn't a bland, salt of the earth farmer or even a curious merchant, rather it was the very Lieutenant of the King's Guard whom he had ordered to take part in this tragedy.

Sighed the wretched man at last, when the specter refused to speak but just sat there smiling curiously at him, "how is it you survived? How can you smile like that when a veritable apocalypse has been unleashed, and that by our own meddling?"

"What if I told you it is only a nightmare?" asked Kipril, "That it was a horrid display, certainly real, but in nowise the end of all things?"

"I would say you were mad," said the fellow, aghast.

"I am quite sane," grinned Kipril the more, so much so that the man almost questioned his sanity there and then, added the irrepressible Messenger, "it is the world that is mad!"

"That's all I wanted to do," sighed the man heavily, "introduce a little order and efficiency into the chaos we call reality, but we've loosed worser things and ushered in the end of all days!"

"Do not be ridiculous," smiled Kipril gently, "your intentions were noble, I am sure, but your methods were selfish and evil, which can only result in more of the same. The monsters your meddling has invited into the Kingdom are not of your creation, rather you've merely opened the door and let them in, but they are nothing new and they are not unopposed, but it is now your duty to slam that door and urge the King to withdraw his support of such an incursion, only then can we drive this evil from the Kingdom!"

"But I risk death or worse!" protested the man in horror.

"Those things will give you just that if the King does not," said Kipril grimly, "we can vanquish them for a little while but they will ever come back, until they are no longer welcomed into this land by those in power! Only then can we drive them off for good, that they return as only sporadic trespassers and enemies rather than welcome guests!"

"I was going to encourage the King not to allow any of his own folk to undergo such a transformation," whispered the horrified man, "but it seems that will not be enough! I feel as if I ride to my death!"

"You do, either way," said Kipril sadly, "you will not find the King holding the reins of power when you get back to the City, a very General of those fell things is now in charge, the King is a mere, terrified puppet granting it and its minions all authority in the realm. You are a mere pawn, one without further use, and will be given the choice to either join the ranks of the undead or they'll use your blood to fuel more of their vile magic."

"Perhaps I could just quietly withdraw?" mused the quivering man wretchedly, grasping at one final, desperate hope, like a drowning man clasping at a piece of straw.

"You will still die," said Kipril gravely, "you must do this or none will, but running away will not change your fate, it will only doom the Kingdom!"

"How is it you can still have hope?" sighed the man, like a dying man's last gasp.

"I am verily a servant of Hope itself!" said Kipril eagerly.

"I want that too," said the man in eager dread, "whatever it is that makes you smile so."

"Then I shall tell you!" said Kipril in delight.

They appeared upon an empty balcony overlooking the King's main audience chamber, but it was not the King that sat upon his throne, but rather a monstrosity that rivaled that horrid squid in gruesomeness, size, and pure terror, but this was a sentient creature, and one that could never die. Ithril saw his father, hunched in a chair off to one side, like a forgotten doll in the corner; he shuddered in revulsion at the sight, abhorrence and pity strong in his voice, "what have they done to him?"

"It is the fate he has chosen for himself, if unwittingly," said Garren sadly, "he's listened to the counsel of evil men and this is the result. That thing cannot sit upon a throne of men without the King's leave, even be it coerced from terror or lies. They cannot kill him, for they need his continued permission to remain in control of the realm, else we could drive them permanently therefrom. For now, we can merely inconvenience them."

"But how is his mind to be changed?" asked Bayard wretchedly.

"Our Master must provide," said Garren quietly, motioning for silence as their eyes focused on what was happening below, as the King's original nefarious advisor presented himself before the grandest horror of them all.

The man bowed deeply to the fell thing, and looked in anticipation to the monster, as it spoke, "you have done well, mortal, in opening the way for the conquest of this kingdom! We had hoped to use the King's brother to gain access to this benighted realm, but he has failed utterly, leaving us without a way in, until you helped us, unwitting as it was. What reward would you ask of me?"

The man shuddered in absolute horror, but said avariciously, "I want what you have, Great One: power and immortality!"

"A wise choice," rumbled the atrocity, much pleased, "you shall remain in our service, but as a much more powerful and important entity!"

The audience was suddenly interrupted by the advent of the Advisor's own lackey, the one he had placed in Garren's company to see that the King's orders were swiftly carried out. "What are you doing here?!" gasped the advisor in horror, that his moment of triumph could be ruined by his own minion!

"You know this wretch?" hissed the great thing.

"He was my foremost servant, oh dread one!" groveled the advisor, "I am sure he comes with dire news in daring such an interruption!"

"He had better," hissed the monstrosity, "speak, wretched mortal!"

The man was trembling in terror and horror at the thing upon the throne, but he ignored it and his master both, rather he flung himself at the feet of the huddled mass that was the King, pled he, "Sire! Only you can save your realm! Send these horrid creatures away, welcome them no longer amidst your Kingdom, even be it death to do so, it must be better than such an existence! Give them permission no longer to sit upon your throne and rule in your stead or murder your villagers..." The man screamed in agony, interrupting his diatribe, as a spear was plunged into his abdomen and he was bodily dragged into the center of the room, where he was left to wallow in a quickly spreading pool of his own blood, by one of the lesser horrors waiting attendance upon the greater upon the throne.

"There is the blood price," hissed the great fiend to the trembling advisor, "are you still eager for your reward?"

"No sir, it is not worth it..." gasped the dying servant with his last breath, trailing off as death closed its fist about him.

"Yes," trembled the advisor, licking his lips in anticipation even as his soul quivered in very terror. As the lesser horrors fell upon him to complete the ritual, Garren and his two companions vanished and reappeared in the shadows, the boys guised as themselves. They strode boldly into the mess that had been the royal court and stood before the greatest of those horrid monstrosities.

Before the fell general could challenge the intruders, the first stirrings of life any had yet seen in the hitherto catatonic king burst forth in these words, "my son, can it truly be you?!"

"Yes, father," said the boy joyously, rushing to the broken man's side, as the once proud king fell weeping into his son's arms.

"I am so dreadfully sorry," sobbed he, "can you forgive me?"

"Be at peace father," said Ithril gently, "have no fear of that, but you must forgive yourself, but more importantly, set your kingdom to rights! Expel that horrid thing from the throne and its minions from your lands ere it is too late!"

"No!" hissed the great fiend at its various minions within the hall, including the newest monstrosity, "Destroy these intruders!"

Garren smiled grimly and drew his sword while Bayard knelt beside the shattered corpse, rousing him to life anew and life indeed. He sat up and blinked in wonder at the Captain and the late Prince's former companion, smiled wryly to himself, but as he sprang to his feet, there was a sword in his hand. They fell upon the half dozen monsters with greatest glee, but who would fend off the creatures intent on interrupting Ithril's interview with his father? But as in all else, this too was provided, as Kipril appeared suddenly with Tobin and Brin beside him, foiling the efforts of the horrors intent on importuning the King.

Finally the chaos subsided, leaving only the great fiend, the King, Ithril, and Garren, the rest had all been temporarily banished from the premises, as the monstrosity still lounged at its ease upon its stolen throne and laughed them all to scorn, "what think you to accomplish here, little ghost? You can annoy and harry my minions all you like, but they will be back and nothing but death and utter night will be the result, no matter your efforts!"

"He speaks truly, Highness," said the Captain with a proper bow, "you alone can drive these fiends forever from your lands!"

"I will kill him if he dares!" hissed the terror with pleasure.

"Better to die an honest death than live such a life!" said Garren grimly.

"You are correct, Captain," sighed the King heavily, "I do not know how it is my son lives again or how you and your companions possess such uncanny skills, but I know the truth when I hear it, as much as I've ignored it in recent days. Be gone from my Kingdom, fell thing, you and all your evil!"

The creature roared in fury, a broad sword as big as a tree trunk now clutched in one fist, as it leapt from its pilfered throne and made to fall upon the treacherous king, but Ithril touched the man on the shoulder with a glowing hand and they both vanished in a flash of that repulsive light, leaving the Captain alone with the abhorrent general. Snarled the fiend in infernal delight, "it seems you shall have to face my wrath yourself, little ghost!"

"I am no ghost," said Garren stonily, unveiling his true form, "I am the very Captain of the Master's Messengers!" He leapt upon the horror, a moth attacking a bird, his sword and person radiant as the dawn. The thing tried to laugh the pestiferous little beast to scorn, but it ducked under his defenses, that great sword of no use in such close combat, as the Messenger buried his sword in that gloating general's chest. They vanished together in a great, stygian flash, leaving the chamber empty and strangely silent.

He awoke on a stone slab, his sword clutched to his breast as if a knight in eternal repose, and glancing about at the company he kept, that seemed to be the case, though his Lieutenant's grinning face wasn't in keeping with this abode of the honored dead, but then he wasn't content to remain there for whatever remained of time either, as his bones rotted to dust, no matter how splendid the tomb. As he sat up and addressed Kipril, the man lost his grin, saluted very properly, and gave an update of how matters stood in the Kingdom. The fell things had been driven from the land, the King was recovering from his horrific experience, and the Messengers were scattered throughout the country speaking hope and light into the despairing hearts and gloominess left in the wake of such an incursion.

"And the refugees?" queried Garren.

"They've been apprised of how matters stand in the Kingdom," said Kipril, "but who can say if they will ever return?"

"And the Kingship?" asked Garren.

Kipril shook his head, "that matter has yet to be settled, sir."

"I suppose that is why you interrupted my nap?" grinned Garren broadly.

"You have been gone for several days sir," said the Lieutenant wistfully, "many of us wondered if you would ever come back."

"After dealing with such a horror," shuddered the Captain, "it is little surprise that I might tarry a wee bit, ere my return." He smiled broadly, "but don't think I'd let you take over the Captaincy, I'd return just to prevent such a travesty!"

"As it should be, sir," grinned the Lieutenant in vast amusement. They emerged from the ancient tomb, wherein the Kingdom's valiant dead were wont to repose, and the guard on duty without saluted very properly but failed to hide the delight that sparkled in his eyes.

At the Captain's happy smile, the man felt himself free to speak and said, "very glad to see you not a monster, sir!"

"And glad am I that you are no longer a servant of evil, if an unwitting and well intentioned one! Welcome Home, lad!" said Garren brightly.

The man shook his head in wonder, "to think this would be my fate?! I knew I rode to my death, but had no idea what lurked beyond it! To think I very nearly rode off in the opposite direction and that all would have come to naught, especially myself!"

"Let's get busy putting this benighted country back together," said Garren solemnly, "it's been saved from itself, let's make sure it has a future to look forward to."

"Will the Enemy be content with his defeat?" queried Kipril.

"I doubt it," said the Captain grimly, "else why would so many of us linger after the fact?"

Frowned their companion, leaving his post and joining them, "can we truly meddle in mortal affairs? Direct the destiny of Kingdoms and the fates of souls?"

"What do you think, lad?" queried the Captain with an amused smile.

Sighed the man heavily, "we can but advise and counsel, warn and protect and mete out justice. Men must make their own decisions and abide by the consequences."

"And what have been the consequences of this little debacle?" queried Garren.

Said Kipril quietly, "a third of the population is fled, perhaps permanently. Of those that remained, perhaps one in ten died in the ensuing violence, some villages escaped unscathed but others lost nearly half their population! The sole heir to the throne is dead; the King is in a delicate state, very possibly unfit to reign, not to mention his previous poor judgments. Morale and order have been destroyed throughout much of the Kingdom, especially in the City, where none has stepped forward to lead in the vacuum left by the sudden vanishment of both the King, his lords, and that horrid fiend."

"Sounds like we had best start there," said Garren with a grim smile, "let's go see what is left of the guard and if they will listen to their Captain." The three exchanged an eager smile and vanished in a glorious flash.

"Sir?!" said another Lieutenant, as the Captain himself strode into the seedy tavern wherein a good half of his former men had taken refuge when evil and chaos had descended upon the palace and the city itself.

"On your feet lads!" said Garren brightly, "Let's reestablish order and the rule of law while the Crown sorts itself out!" Eager cheers met him all around, they were aghast at the chaos and lawlessness engulfing the city, but none knew what to do about it. He sent the lot of them off, urging them to find any of their fellows likewise in hiding, that all of them might settle the riotous behavior and chaos engulfing the streets, that they might at least look like a law abiding realm once more!

It didn't take very long for the scoundrels and scavengers to go to ground, for they were opportunists, not right villains, and had not the nerve to stand against an organized and dedicated show of force with the usual laws and social mores behind it, whatever was happening with the powers that be. The more law abiding amongst the citizenry breathed a sigh of relief and regained the confidence to encourage seemly behavior amongst all their acquaintance, finally smothering the chaotic flames lit by a complete and utter lack of restraint at every level of society.

As the Guard restored order to the City, the three rode back to the palace to see what was passing there. Asked the Captain of his regular Lieutenant, "and what of the King and Ithril?"

Said Kipril, "they are currently occupying the Royal estates, sir, awaiting the King's recovery and any decisions made by the powers-that-be in regards to his fitness to continue as such."

"Let's see what they have to say upon the matter," he glanced significantly at the former spy and asked, "had you any dealings with the Great Lords and Royal Advisors?"

"Only as a go-between for my former master," said he, "but I would be happy to resume that duty, save with a far different Master!"

"A familiar face will be most welcome, me thinks," nodded the Captain in grim agreement, "let's call a meeting and see just what sort of a mess we have to help clean up." The man saluted, smiled eagerly, and vanished the next moment. Grinned the Captain widely, "now that is efficiency!"

While the nation's elite were assembling, the Captain summoned his own men, to both update them and to hear how matters stood in the outlying provinces. He smiled grimly to see nary a Mark remaining on any hand there present and that each Messenger had finally come into his own. There seemed to be a man in each village or large cluster of farms, and the devastated folk were clinging to his hopeful words like a shipwrecked man to the debris of his vessel; the refugees had not returned, as if they awaited something else, a second wave of darkness or perhaps to see what sort of country arose from the ashes of their former homeland. There had been a few scouts seen, undead fiendish things skulking about, which were easily dealt with. The gathered Messengers nodded grimly when he spoke of the Enemy's likely revenge after their recent victory and what could be dark days ahead.

"Keep up the good work, lads," said he with a broad smile, dismissing them back to their posts with a wave of his hand.

"Efficiency indeed, sir," grinned Kipril, "but I fear your mortal lords are certainly taking their time in assembling."

Garren shook his head grimly, "and the Guard?"

"Besides for heavier and more regular patrols," said Kipril, "they have returned to their usual duties and posts, sir," said the Lieutenant.

"Gather up some of the off duty men and escort our recalcitrant great men to the Council," said Garren gravely, "anyone who refuses to attend to his duties will forthwith be stripped of all rank and title!"

"Can we do that?!" said Kipril in wonder.

Garren smiled in grim amusement, "we can't, but I'm sure their peers and the King, whomever they choose, will see to it once matters are settled. It is their duty after all!"

Kipril vanished in a more usual manner, dashing off to fulfill his Captain's orders, leaving Garren alone in the empty room, but only for a moment, for suddenly a dreadful raven perched upon a vacant chair, as much more terrible than the vile general as the general was than a sheep in a field. Garren took a step back in terror, knowing this must be the Fiend himself, the Master's great Enemy, His former servant and greatest creation, who had rebelled ere the stars were lit, and now did all he could to oppose all that was Right, True, Good, and Beautiful. This was not a foe the Captain could fight, though the Master's triumph over evil and death had indeed won that dreadful war, the rebel king was still at large and very much a source of evil and terror amid the waking world.

"I would snuff you like a spent candle, you pesky sheep!" chided the horrid avian thing, "You have sorely used my General and foiled many a carefully laid plan, but I would have you watch in utter futility as your hard won victory is forever snatched from you and plunged into utter despair!" Utter blackness consumed the room and Garren himself, until he knew nothing, yea, he was Nothing.

He awoke with Kipril's persistent shaking, much as he had done twenty years prior in similar circumstances. He clutched at the light that composed his being, but found only darkness, though his breathing was steady and regular. Pausing in horror, he wondered when it was he had last drawn breath!

"What's wrong sir?" asked the Lieutenant anxiously, his gasp of astonishment echoed the Captain's own, upon seeing the Mark again upon that hand.

"The Fiend himself," said Garren, shaking his head, trying to clear it, as Kipril helped him to his feet. He smiled wryly and said, "it appears we're in our old circumstances again, my friend, but it is a role we are both well used to playing. He has promised to snatch this kingdom out of our Master's hand and wishes me to watch and despair as he does so."

"At least we won't be bored," quipped Kipril, "but I believe it is time you were in bed, sir!"

"What of the meeting?" said Garren in horror.

Kipril suddenly donned his Captain's guise and smiled roguishly, "what of it? Now to bed, sir, don't make me pull rank!"

"Yes, sir," grinned the mortal Captain weakly, as his Lieutenant helped his overwrought mortal frame into bed, and for the first time in a very long time, he fell fast asleep.

He was a handsome young man, bold and gallant, just what the benighted realm needed amidst its disquiet night, with a morally wrecked and mentally wretched King and no heir to the throne. The various lords, royal advisors and councilors, and anyone of any influence in the Kingdom, had been haggling back and forth for weeks over what was to be done about the Kingship, most wanting it for themselves or their children, none having the best interests of the Kingdom and its folk in mind, but only their own interests and desires. Into this maelstrom of personality and ambition, walked this strange but comely man, bold as a wren in a strange neighborhood, and suddenly silence descended upon the hall, all eyes peering intently at the fellow, ears straining for his least whisper.

"Gentlemen, my Lords!" began he, "I have been sent to you in this dire hour to lead you out of darkness and chaos into the glorious dawn of order, peace, and prosperity!" They were all on their feet, cheering and calling for more words, so sweet to their desperate ears.

"Who is this fellow?" asked Kipril of the Captain in astonishment, from their place off to one side that they might oversee the proceedings, not that they were making any progress whatsoever, but that was the Council's affair, not theirs, their only duty was to see that no fell thing intervened.

"A mortal man," said just one such, "his words are honey but I fear they only veil the poison."

"And they will swallow them without question," replied Kipril, "can't you just challenge the fellow to a duel or something?"

Garren smiled grimly, "indeed, I would if I could, but I am as bound by our odd occupation as ever you have been. I'm not a mortal man waiting to become an immortal one, rather I'm an immortal man temporarily inconvenienced by mortality. I can't harm a hair on a mortal head any more than you can, my friend."

"You have all the inconvenience of our occupation and none of the perks," smiled Kipril grimly, "you don't even have any of the advantages of a mortal man but all the nuisance!"

"So here we sit upon the brink of disaster once more," said the Captain with a wistful shrug.

"Hoping for mortal men to choose wisely!" sighed the Lieutenant.

"Miracles do happen," said the Captain quietly.

"Such as in our own case?" smiled Kipril.

"Exactly," nodded Garren.

"Then we wait for divine intervention rather than upon the choices of mortal men," said Kipril wistfully.

"If not in this world," quipped Garren, "perhaps the next?"

"It seems they have made their choice," said Kipril sadly, "though they might not realize it themselves for some hours. I'll go apprise the King and Ithril, if I may?" At Garren's nod, he withdrew quietly from the proceedings and vanished entirely once alone.

Gavin, the former spy, now the Captain's Aide, approached, "do you need anything sir?"

"I'd like to know where this upstart King came from?" said the Captain thoughtfully, "And what his true intentions are."

"Perhaps I could be of service?" grinned the man eagerly, "Was not that my former position?"

"You want to be a nefarious henchman again, eh?" smiled the Captain grimly, "It may be just the thing, but how do you plan to win his favor?"

"Leave that to me, sir," said Gavin thoughtfully, "but don't be surprised if you see me in his company before I've had a chance to make his acquaintance."

Garren thought to goggle at the very thought, but his perspective on time and space had shifted significantly of late, what was one more wonder? He nodded evenly and said, "whatever it is you are up to, may the Master go with you!"

"Thank you sir," grinned the man, saluting and hastening from his Captain's presence, ostensibly to attend to business in the past!

Gavin sat at a table in a crowded common room, the other chair the only open seating in the entire place, but it too was quickly filled with another weary traveler seeking shelter from the coming night and a little company amidst a long, lonely journey, this one little more than a boy, but precisely the man he was pursuing. "Have a seat, lad," said the man genially, "can I get something to eat?"

"That would be most kind," said the boy delightedly, making Gavin wonder if he had found the right man! They sat and talked as they ate and long afterwards, before the boy yawned expansively and said, "I'd best go find somewhere to spend the night, but I thank you for your company and kindness sir! I do not remember spending a better evening since I left home."

"Sleep well, lad," said Gavin quietly, allowing the boy to venture out the front door before he fled out the back, little realizing he had acquired a shadow. He was about to vanish from sight and tail the boy when he felt a hand grasping his throat with terrible strength, bodily lifting him into the air.

Hissed an evil voice out of the depths of a bulky cloak, but there was no missing the flash of ember-like eyes, announcing this to be no natural villain, if the incredible strength or aura of pure evil about the fiend were not enough of a clue!, "what have you to do with the boy, wretch?"

"Is this the punishment one receives for an act of kindness to a lonely and wandering man?" grinned Gavin wryly, his own display no doubt betraying his own uncanny nature to one of his perennial foes, for no mortal could smile or act so nonchalant in the presence of such a terrible thing.

It threw him to the ground and snarled, "I will only warn you this once, ghost! Do not meddle in business not your own or you will sorely regret it." The thing vanished in a dark flash, but Gavin did not regain his feet, rather he sat there with a thoughtful smile on his face, and with a shrug, he summoned the Captain.

Garren smiled wryly at Gavin's odd seat, but looked at the man in anticipation, as he said, "we're in the past sir, when I can't exactly say, but at least a year before the advent of your upstart King in the realm. I sat with the boy over supper, and he's far from the cold-hearted villain we assume him to be. I was also accosted by some hideous thing intent on keeping our interference to a minimum."

"So something happens over the course of the next year and he falls under the Enemy's influence?" mused the Captain, he could not help but smile curiously, "And just what does that have to do with me?"

"If it's possible, sir," said he boldly, "I'd like to steal your mortality!"

"What?!" said Garren in wonder.

"I'll change my face before we attempt it," said Gavin eagerly, "and tomorrow I'll again try to make friends with the boy, but this time the fiendish things keeping an eye on him won't know that he has a Messenger meddling in their affairs; perhaps a mortal man can make better headway than one of our uncanny nature?"

"It's an interesting plan," approved the Captain, smiling wryly he added, "and at worst you'll kill me, which isn't such a bad thing, not in the least!"

Gavin's face changed to that of a slightly younger stranger, one of an age with the boy, and then held out his hand, "thank you sir!"

"I should be the one thanking you," smiled the Captain, taking his Aide's hand. The light engulfed them both, and there they lay, insensible as toppled trees, at least until the innkeeper came out the backdoor on some late night errand and nearly tripped over the vagabonds sleeping in such an uncouth place! They wakened with a start and hastened off into the cover of the surrounding woods, a look of vast amusement on each face.

"Did it work?" asked the Captain.

"I think so," panted Gavin, "as I'm currently out of breath!"

"Is there anything else you need?" asked the Captain a little anxiously, "I hate to leave you here, alone and powerless!"

"I'm never alone sir," grinned he, "and whatever I need will be provided!"

"As I should ever remember," smiled the Captain sheepishly, "very well, carry on as you know you must!" He saluted his Aide and vanished with that familiar light, Gavin sinking to the ground and resuming his interrupted nap, despite three trees roots to the contrary.

He awoke with a yawn and a sensation he vaguely remembered, as if from the dream of a dream, as hunger, he glanced about hopefully but found no knapsack full of food, but he did have a few coins in his belt pouch. He returned to the inn, purchased what he could, and continued on his way, wondering what had come of his prey, but he had not been walking long when he was assaulted from behind by what had been his quarry.

The lad dashed up, all excitement, as only a youth on such a vague adventure could be, and asked eagerly of his new companion, "are you too abroad, adventure bent, or are you merely walking into town on some errand for your father?"

Grinned Gavin, "I am far from home and wander as I must."

"Come," said the other, Lori by name, "let us keep company together then?"

"Certainly," said Gavin, "it will much ease the journey if loneliness is not a constant companion! Though I have little by way of provision, what I have I will share."

"We are in similar straits, my friend," agreed the other ruefully, "but there must be a way to continue on our journey without starving thereupon?"

"We'll do as we must, I am certain," agreed Gavin, "even if it means working for our supper on occasion."

The other's countenance contorted in disgust, as he said, "I am of noble birth, sir! Though an orphan and a younger son, I will not toil away in obscurity like some mean peasant, why think you that I fled home in the first place? Certainly there must be generous personages upon the way that will see to our succor, knowing innately that we are deserving of their kindness and hospitality."

"That would certainly make for an easier journey, my friend," said Gavin evenly, not daring to broach that it was hardly realistic however, wondering if his kindness the previous evening had done more harm than good! But in hopes of changing the subject, for the lad would learn the hard truth soon enough even if he wouldn't believe it when it was spoken to him directly, he brought out his scanty provisions and split them between them. They continued on their way, speaking of lesser things, or at least things less divisive, for the lad had a voracious and brilliant mind, eager for any and all learning and knowledge it might find, no matter the source, and happily Gavin had enough of an education and broad experience to supply just that.

The day passed pleasantly but as the evening gloom gathered about them, Gavin said uneasily, "what shall we do for supper this night?"

"We'll go into the common room and sit at a table," said Lori brightly, "I'm sure some generous soul within will be quite happy to supply our needs."

While Lori went and claimed a table, Gavin spoke quietly with the innkeeper, who was not averse to the lads having whatever scraps were left in the kitchen after the patrons were fed, but they'd need to clean up the common room in exchange. They might also avail themselves of the stable loft if they wanted somewhere to sleep out of the weather. Gavin sat with his new friend, who eyed him suspiciously, but he said nothing of his brief errand, rather they continued their conversation and waited for fate or supper to find them, whichever might be lurking just outside the inn door.

But the hour grew late and no generous person was to be found, just the usual crowd of farmers, merchants, and craftsmen and here and there a weary traveler, but not such a one as welcomed conversation, let alone a request for their evening meal, from a pair of scruffy lads. Said Gavin, as the patrons began to drift to bed or homeward, "if we set the common room to rights, we can have whatever the kitchen has left, and if you'd like, the stable loft is ours for the night?"

"You clean up," sniffed Lori in disdain, "if that be your wish, but I'd rather starve than slave for my bread! And scraps?! We are not dogs!" He eyed Gavin skeptically, "at least I am not!" Gavin smiled weakly and set to work, the innkeeper bringing out the unsavory mess for their meal, but Lori was true to his word and wouldn't touch the appalling stuff. He left the table and said, "I'll find somewhere outside to sleep." And hastened from the room. Gavin sighed heavily, finished his cleaning, thanked the innkeeper for his kindness, and followed his friend out into the darkness.

They woke the next morning stiff and hungry, but at least Lori had his pride, or so he consoled himself, though it did little to quiet his disquiet stomach. They walked for most of the morning in silence, Lori deep in thought, Gavin respectful of his unease, but at last their conversation began again in earnest, and for a time their hunger and disagreement were forgotten, but all too soon, evening drew about them again, and as they entered the inn, Lori said bluntly, "if this begging for your supper is to continue, I fear I must part ways immediately!"

"Very well," said Gavin, "shall we find somewhere to sit?" At Lori's curt but pleased nod, they did just that, but no patron of unusual generosity appeared to ease their hunger pangs. Again they trekked back into the dark and cold world to find what sleep they could, and so it went for three more days.

As night found them again, in ever more desperate straits, Gavin looked into the eyes of that proud young man, but he would not countenance even being asked about such a thing, let alone actually doing it, but it seemed fate was about to smile on them at last, for no sooner had they seated themselves at another empty table, when a smiling man, though there was no kindness or joy in the expression, sat across from them, saying, "you boys look hungry?"

At Lori's avid nod, the man did not hesitate to importune the serving girl and ask after supper for the pair of them, though Gavin studied the fellow with a blank expression and eyes too keen for the no name boy he appeared. "That is quite kind of you sir," said Lori eagerly, ignoring his friend's grim silence.

"There's naught of kindness in it lad," said the stranger bluntly, "I'm a business man and I've a proposition to make you."

"Which is even better," agreed Lori eagerly, "to beg or do menial labor for my supper is certainly beneath me, even being the recipient of a stranger's kindness is unsettling to my cultured mind. This is far more appealing, what would you have of us?"

The man scoffed, "with you I believe I can come to an understanding, but your friend there will never believe a word I say!"

Lori frowned at Gavin, asking uneasily, "what troubles you? Here is an honest way of getting a meal at last and you doubt this man's sincerity?!"

"It depends what he's offering," said Gavin carefully, not wanting to drive his companion further away but knowing that might well be impossible, for their roads had already begin to bifurcate, and soon they might be walking in different directions entirely.

"Well let's hear him out at least," said Lori hopefully.

"I'm looking for a dependable man to one day take over my little trade, such as it is," said the stranger, "but he'd have to prove himself time and again by taking orders he might initially find distasteful or confusing, but trusting all the same. Are either of you such a man?"

Gavin smiled wryly, for that might be a brief summation of his current occupation, but this fellow was no Messenger, but Lori was in nowise silent, "these distasteful errands, they would be in nowise repulsive to a noble heart, would they?"

"It depends what you mean by noble," said the man bluntly, "are you one of those fellows that will see justice done for the so-called downtrodden and poor no matter the cost to himself or his country, or do you mean a man born to noble parents?"

"The latter, certainly," said Lori in distaste, "what care I about any peasant's sense of thwarted justice; they must submit to their natural masters as willingly as the horse to the bit else what is to be done with them?"

"Excellent, sir," said the stranger eagerly, "I believe you and I will get along famously, but what of your wretched friend there?"

"My definition would involve the former, I am afraid," said Gavin quietly, "but I take it that is not what you meant?"

"Your friend here has the right of it, I'm afraid," grinned the man wickedly, "now that we've come to a seeming impasse, it might be time to test your dependability, my friend, with one of those distasteful chores I have just mentioned?"

"What are you implying?" asked Lori, a little anxiously.

"Your friend here annoys me," said the fellow, "and if he won't remove himself from my proximity?" Here he eyed the boy significantly, but Gavin merely crossed his arms and shook his head, daring the man to do his worst. "You'll have to remove him for me," said the man with a cruel gleam in his eye.

"Gavin, why don't you do the sensible thing and be on your way?" said Lori in final dismissal, "As this offer certainly does not appeal to you nor do your sensibilities in certain matters coincide with mine."

"I promised to accompany you," said Gavin persistently, "and only death will prevent me from doing just that."

"There's your first order, lad," said the stranger, he smiled maliciously, "the peasantry would call it murder, no doubt, but I like to think of it as removing a nuisance, the same as ridding oneself of an irksome dog or a rat in your bedchamber!"

"Please Gavin?!" said Lori, "You can't make me do this!"

Gavin frowned, "I am making you do nothing!"

"If you would just leave," said Lori, his fury rising, "I wouldn't have to put up with this!"

Gavin spitted him with his stony gaze, "choose, my friend!"

"You bring this upon yourself!" warned Lori, glancing at their companion quizzically.

"Exactly!" agreed the vile fellow, "He had his chance and now he's forcing you to do something regrettable, it's his own fault. As to the means, here's a dagger, I'm sure he'd be kind enough to accompany you behind the stables, not wanting to make a scene as I am sure he is?"

Gavin stood slowly, asking of his friend, "are you sure this is what you want?"

"You have forced my hand, sir," said Lori grimly, shoving his friend towards the backdoor, "I want no part in this but I have no choice!"

"Of course you don't," said Gavin wretchedly, "how is it your heart has grown so cold?"

"The only things that matter in life have nothing to do with matters of the heart; kindness, hope, love, faith, joy, are all of them utterly ridiculous and have no practical use. And neither do you!" replied the boy, rather inexpertly slashing his former friend's throat.

Gavin fell with a pained gurgle, but he wasn't like to die anytime soon from blood loss with that pathetic wound. Lori's fury waxed hot at his ineptitude with what should be a simple task, this time he stabbed the wretch in the heart, or so he hoped. Gavin gasped in agony but still clung to life. Lori struck again and again, blinded by his rage, he wasn't sure when his victim finally expired, but at last those judgmental eyes glazed in death. He studied the mess in disgust; this was why nobles didn't do their own dirty work! He kicked the corpse and growled, "you can't even die properly," before stalking back into the inn to report his success.

The man smiled grimly, taking in the blood-spattered mess that was his new associate, "lad, we need to teach you to kill with more finesse!"

The murdered Gavin didn't linger long after his killer had vanished withindoors, rather the corpse was consumed utterly by that wonderful light, returning him to his proper place and time, along with his more usual proclivities. There was the Captain, one brow arched in question, as he saluted and gave his report. Garren shook his head sadly but nodded, "about what we suspected, and now he's going to be King?"

"What has the actual King to say upon the matter?" queried Gavin curiously.

"Let's go find out," said Garren with a nod, as that light engulfed them both.

They appeared in an empty sitting room, but not a moment later, Ithril slipped in, having felt an urgent desire to find himself thence, and now well used to such sensations, he hied himself thither with all haste. He saluted the Captain and smiled a greeting to Gavin, asking of the former, "sir?"

"How is your father?" asked the Captain solemnly.

Ithril shook his head grimly, "he won't leave his bed sir."

"Won't or can't?" asked Garren gravely.

"I fear it is the latter, sir," said the boy miserably, "but part of me hopes it is pure stubbornness on his part."

"You'd rather have him sulky than physically bedridden?" asked Garren in confusion. At the boy's puzzled look, he amended, "his heart is the most important matter at the moment, lad, an invalid might be nearer the Master than a surly individual."

"I've been looking at it all backwards!" said he in astonishment, "Here I could only think of what it might mean for the Kingdom, not what it meant for him personally!"

"Kingdoms and cultures and even this world will soon pass into nothingness lad," said Garren quietly, but with hope welling behind it like water behind a dam, "whereas souls are made to last forever!"

"I'm sure he'd be glad to talk to you sir," said the boy, "I've run out of things I feel I'm allowed to tell him about happenings of late!"

"We'll see," said the guardsman grimly, "how will he take an interview with one of his servants?"

"He knows you bested that horrifying creature," smiled Ithril broadly, "to him you are now something out of legend!"

"That might be even worse," sighed the Captain, "but lead on, lad."

They wandered through many an empty corridor before they came to the Royal Suite, Ithril knocked and then entered briefly to tell of their guests, and a moment later ushered them into the room. They made the appropriate courtesies and waited for the King to speak first, if he would. He studied them for some minutes, including his uncanny son, but he could find nothing to betray that they were not the ordinary men they seemed. At last he sighed heavily and asked, "what are you?"

"Men, Sire," said Garren easily, "save beyond time and death, but men still."

"How is this possible without the use of dark magic?" persisted he.

"A miracle, Sire," said the Captain.

"And you tell me there must be a Source of these seeming miracles?" persisted the King.

"Indeed Sire," said Garren with a deep bow, "as He is the Source of everything, including your own soul."

"And thus He must have jurisdiction over it," sighed he heavily, "a very King over all Creation!"

"Quite Sire," said Garren, "the very King of Kings and Lord of Lords."

"And I must bend my stubborn will to His if I am to be saved from my own evil?" inquired the King.

"As must we all, Highness," said Garren, "no matter what we've done or left undone. The worst of men no more nor less than the best, for what is our goodness to His?"

"Well spoken," sighed the King again, though it sounded more a gasp, but that could not be, he must rise from that bed and take back his Kingdom, not leave it in the grasp of evil men! But he would never rise the more, for those gasps came more and more frequently, and that very night was his last upon the mortal earth, but at least his son had the comfort of knowing they would meet again beyond all tears and doubt, for at the last he had indeed bowed willingly, if not physically, before that Greatest of All Kings.

"But what of the Kingship?" said Gavin anxiously.

"That isn't our decision to make, lad," said Garren quietly, "but neither should we leave the deciders unsupervised for any length of time!" They vanished back to the castle, almost before they had vacated it, Ithril guising himself as an anonymous guardsman, for his familiar face no longer had a place amongst living men.

Gavin found himself pushing the King in a bath chair while the Captain walked beside them, as if escorting them somewhere. He grinned in anticipation as he saw their destination, but quashed it, knowing such a giddy smile had no place in such a somber setting. Said he quietly to the Captain, "I thought you said we weren't able to make decisions of this sort for mortal men?"

Garren smiled like a man suspected of a crime of which there was no proof, "we can't make the decisions, but perhaps we can show his true character and let them decide more wisely."

"And our ersatz King?" queried Gavin.

"Who better than his own son?" smiled Ithril through his father's face, but they all grew grave and solemn as they entered the chamber, wherein Lori was still holding forth about the glorious future to be welcomed upon his ascension to the throne. As the door behind him opened and in processed the strange little company, his audience was immediately on its feet in surprise, each voice raised in confusion and agitation.

"This must be your former King?" said Lori with a dismissive sneer, "Despite his previous transgressions and ill-judgment making him ineligible for the throne, what of his current physical condition? The Kingdom is weak, ready to crumble, should any foreign lord wish to put us to the test; you need a strong King, one who won't stumble down the stairs and break his neck for weakness!"

"He is the rightful King until this Council decides otherwise," said the Captain stiffly, "And as such you should treat him with all respect, sir!"

The crowd of lords and advisors had resumed their seats and fallen silent, watching the little interchange, wondering what this enigmatic young man would do in what seemed the first real test of his royal mettle. "Get this Royal Wretch, this Kingish Has-been out of here!" spat the royal-wanna-be.

"Where have your noble sensibilities gone, lad?" asked Gavin, "You are hardly the same lad for whom I bought supper once at an inn..." The man fell with a dagger in his chest, Lori's fury waxing hot, but at least he had learned to kill with finesse.

Snarled he at the vacant eyed corpse, "how dare you bring that up! I am no such weakling!" He glared at the Captain and the King, "do you wish to share his fate? Be gone from here, ere my patience is at an end!"

"This is the rightful King," said Garren staunchly, "until this Council decides otherwise. And you are a murderer!"

"Hardly," scoffed the villain, "such vermin cannot be considered human!"

"I must arrest you," persisted the Captain, only to end as his Aide, prone on the floor with glazing eyes.

"And now for the final loose end," said Lori, with a final flick of his wrist, letting another dagger fly. As Ithril slumped in death, the darkness didn't hold him as it usually did, rather he was immediately somewhere else, though the faux King's corpse still slumped in his chair in the audience chamber, Ithril found himself aback a horse upon a sunny road in no hurry to get anywhere, strangely he knew himself wearing the face to which he had been born.

His musings were cut short, however when he heard cantering hooves approaching from behind; he drew rein and waited the hasty approach of the stranger. He smiled in wonder, for it was a young lady! Both made the proper courtesies and he allowed her to speak first, said she, just a little breathless, "am I too late?"

"Too late for what, milady?" queried he.

"For the adventure!" said she.

"I am only just arrived myself," mused he, "so you must be right on schedule, though I am quite at a loss as to what our quest might entail?"

"Are you now?" said she in surprise, "I thought you must know quite a number of things we stodgy mortal folk could in nowise discern?" His brow furrowed in question and she elucidated, "I remember you from the time you warned our folk to flee ere darkness engulfed the land, and my folk did flee, at least all save my eldest brother. He came to tell us that the darkness had passed and we might return home if we would. Your sudden arrival intrigued me, for you had no horses nor were you encumbered with baggage for any sort of travel, thus I followed you and my brother both, I hid myself and watched as you went, just vanishing into thin air! And you tell me you know nothing of what is to come?"

"I may have a few uncanny abilities, milady," smiled Ithril at her boldness and courage, "but omniscience is not one of them! Did your family return?"

"No," said she, "they might in the future, but with the Kingship in dispute and the realm in chaos, my father thought it better to wait."

"And you?" grinned he knowingly.

"I felt it high time I came back, for what reason I know not, but I knew I must, no matter what my father said," here she grinned wryly, "which is why I left a note and fled in the night."

Ithril shook his head in wondering amusement at the girl's audacity; she could be Queen! His mien suddenly grew pensive, for it was not an errant thought, but rather seemed to be his current quest! Said he in wonder, "you will be Queen!"

"And I'll need a lawful King," retorted she.

He was in nowise confused as to what she was saying, but he still felt the need to protest, for it was impossible! Said he, "but milady, how can this be? You have remarked yourself upon the uncanny nature of my current occupation! I cannot rule a mortal Kingdom! I'm dead!"

"What is that to Me?" asked the amused Magpie, suddenly perched upon his shoulder.

"Nothing, Sir," said he abashedly, glancing uneasily at his horse's mane.

"This uncanny business will always be here, lad," said He, "at least as long as time endures, but you are the only one with a legal right to rescue this nation from utter night?"

"Let it be unto me as You have spoken, Sir," sighed Ithril wistfully, knowing he was going to miss his comrades and their peculiar occupation keenly, but what was a century in the eyes of eternity? Perhaps in the eyes of eternity it was but a blink, but to a mortal man, they were long years indeed!

"Be at peace child," said He, "I do not ask you to go alone, indeed, I have asked far more terrible things of you in your brief service to Me!"

Ithril smiled in relief, knowing this was no miserly master, reluctant to grant His servants any enjoyment or pleasure, but rather He was a delighted Father, giving His children everything to enjoy, but only so long as the thing enjoyed did not become an end in itself, an idol to draw a faithful heart away from its True Love. He breathed full on the boy's face and vanished in a flash of light, leaving Ithril to marvel at the everyday miracles of a beating heart and breath after breath, in their own way as wondrous as anything his life amongst the Messengers had revealed. He knew himself fully mortal again, not just a Messenger in mortal guise, rather he was just a normal man, free to marry and beget children and rule a nation. He sighed wistfully but exchanged a wondering smile with the hitherto silent lady.

But he could not speak, for not only was his heart too full at the moment, but again the sound of rushing hooves filled their ears, and there was Bayard, reining in his horse on the far side of the Prince, smiling in eager mischief, as had been his wont in forgotten days before treachery and evil had torn the nation apart. "You too?!" said Ithril at last, in great joy.

"Certainly, Sire," said Bayard, "we can't leave you loose unsupervised now, can we?"

"Certainly not!" agreed the lady.

"Nor can I let my Lady sister venture into the wilds of civilization unescorted," came another voice, "imagine what she'd do to the place!"

"Brent!" laughed she in delight, as her brother rode up alongside her, Ithril recognizing him as one of the first village youths to fall to the swords of their unquickened comrades.

"How many?" asked Ithril in wonder.

"More than half my command, lad!" said the Captain himself, "Including my own Lieutenant!" At the Prince's quizzical frown, Garren added, "you'll need a Captain of your Guard, I believe, Highness, and Kipril is just the man for the job."

"Your roles will be reversed, it seems," smiled the Prince at the irony.

Garren barked a laugh, "what are eighty years to a Messenger, lad?"

"To a Messenger, nothing," agreed the future King, "but to a mortal man, it is quite a lifetime!"

"I once thought the same," sighed Garren wistfully, then smiling ruefully he added, "and I was quite wrong!"

"So is this to be the end of the tale?" asked Bayard, "Half of us will return to life as usual and the rest of you will vanish to wherever or whenever you are needed?"

Garren smiled wonderingly at the boy and asked, "would you have us lolling about the court for no apparent reason?"

"That's what nobles are for," agreed Ithril, "not Messengers!"

There was much laughter at this, as it tapered off, Garren continued, "the long night is over, lads, and there is no longer a need for so many of us to be concentrated in this particular place and time. Many of our newest recruits have returned to their former lives to help rebuild the villages and lives torn apart by recent events, and I've responsibilities elsewhere, I can no longer remain a permanent fixture in this little Kingdom of yours, pleasant as it is." He eyed the wistful boy keenly and said, "and when your work here is done, I'll expect to see you back amongst us, full report in hand!"

"Yes, Sir!" saluted the boy for the last time, at least for a very long time, hereafter everyone would be bowing to him!

"May the Master bless your reign, Sire," said Garren with a bow from his saddle, and turning his horse slightly, they vanished from sight.

Pursued

Corvin awoke suddenly, soaked with sweat. He looked about, terror in his eyes, thinking the horrid things in his dream yet pursued him. But only the familiar surroundings of his sleeping chamber met his eyes. He lay back, shook his head to clear it of the night terrors, smiled at his own fear, and tried to sleep, but it was long in coming. This was not the first time he had had this particular dream and he knew it would not be the last. The problem was, it was not confining itself to his sleep. He felt watched, as a deer might feel when the eye of the wolf is upon it, as he went about his daily routine. He could remember little of the dream, and it was not always the same dream. Sometimes it was a great darkness that gaped before him and snapped at his heels when he fled, at others it was a terrifying light that wanted to consume him utterly and remake him in its own image. At least the darkness only wanted to destroy him, not turn him into something other than himself. He shuddered, wondering which would ultimately catch him and which would be the worser fate. He knew they drew closer, ever closer and that it was only a matter of time.

He screamed his frustration at the darkness, which brought the servant running from the outer room to see what afflicted his master. Corvin snarled at the boy, "what do you want?"

The boy shivered, "nothing sir, just seeing if there is anything you want or need."

Corvin laughed bitterly, "not unless you can interpret dreams boy, or know someone who can! I have not slept well in weeks and now my nightmares are beginning to spill over into waking life. I fear madness is inevitable."

The boy looked at the floor with an occasional glance at his irate master, "there is a man in one of the outlying villages who is said to possess such wisdom, sir."

Corvin brightened, "fetch this fellow for me, immediately." The boy was about to protest that it was the middle of the night but he dared not frustrate his master further, instead he withdrew with a bow, woke another of the servants to sit and watch by their master's door, and then hastened to find a horse for himself and the sage.

The old man woke in the dim grey light of predawn and stared about himself in confusion for a moment, before he realized someone was pounding on his door. He pulled on whatever clothes were handy and opened the door to find a lad in the livery of the local lord. The old man said without preamble, "your master has need of me, eh?" The boy nodded and the old man shook his head as he pulled on his boots, "he could never bother to call as a proper neighbor should but has the nerve to summon me in the small hours of the night? But then it is not your fault, you are only the messenger. Of course I will come." Relief shone on the boy's face as the man pulled on his coat and mounted the second horse. As they trotted along, the man asked, "what troubles your master then?"

The boy replied, "he has been having strange and troubling dreams of late and he fears he will go mad as a result."

The old man smiled thoughtfully, "at least it is a question worthy of my attention." He kicked his horse to a faster pace, forcing the boy to do likewise.

The sun was well up by the time they returned to the ancient manor house, his Lordship was pacing ceaselessly in his library. The old man had barely entered the house before the unseemly lord was immediately upon him, demanding to know what had kept them. Corvin drew back in astonishment, as the old man met his eyes with a grim and annoyed stare at this complete lack of manners and propriety upon his part as host. Never had he met anyone beneath his own social status that would dare meet his eyes and do aught but his bidding. Annoyed, but properly chastised, Corvin tried his best to act the patient and gracious host, deigning to treat his guest as an equal. Satisfied, the sage allowed himself to be invited into the library for a light breakfast before they got down to business. The servant stared in wonder, never having seen his master in such a grudging state.

The old man still held his tea cup, but as he sat back in his chair, sated and content with the young lord's chagrin, he said, "now of what service may I be to you my Lord?"

Corvin sat on the edge of his own chair, having touched none of his own food, but finally eager to tell all to this enigma before him, "I have had strange dreams of late."

He told of his predicament and the man listened patiently, and then said when he had finished, "you are being pursued in truth my lord and you must make a decision ere it is too late. The darkness will have you regardless unless you choose a side. The light beckons but you must go willingly. The darkness will take you, willingly or not."

The lord stared, "who or what must I decide between?"

The sage shrugged, "it is no different than the decision all men must make, save that yours must come soon. We each must take a side in this ancient war, to make no decision is to side with the darkness and the Enemy. Only the Light can protect us from being utterly consumed, but it will not be a means to an end, but must in itself be desired above all else."

"You make it sound as if man must enslave himself one way or the other!" said Corvin in annoyance, "I am a ruler of men, I am neither slave nor servant!"

The sage bowed his head, "so think all men, but we neither created ourselves nor this world, we have little say in our fate now or after death. The darkness would rule over all and destroy or corrupt everything, but we are not alone in this fight, for there is One who fights for us, but we must submit to Him fully or be lost to the dark. That is the choice of all men, but it appears you must very soon make that decision or it shall be made for you."

Corvin stood and paced restlessly, not liking what the old man said but he could not deny that he felt the truth of his words. He liked neither choice: submission or eternal death? Why could he not just live quietly, in his own way? Live for his allotted time and then cease to be? Why must something outside his understanding or concern trouble him like this? He sighed heavily and said, "I do not like this."

The sage shook his head, "it is not a question of liking but rather of doing what we must. The unborn child will not leave the womb willingly, but it and the mother will die else. The time of birth has come my lord, do you choose life or death?"

"You have made your point, sir. I thank you for your time and shall notify you if I have any further questions. Good day."

The sage stood, bowed to the appropriate degree, and withdrew from the young lord's presence. The ever-silent servant accompanied the man to the door and helped him back into his saddle. The servant was soon in his own and they returned to his village at a walk. "Your lord is lost I fear," said the sage, once they were well away from the manor, "he runs from the light though he knows the darkness waits to consume him in his flight."

The boy asked, "what does this mean for him, for us all?"

The sage shook his head, "I do not know lad. Usually such questions are ultimately answered at the moment of death, but men do not have visions to warn them of their impending doom, for such is the lot common to men. Rather, I think he has been chosen for some strange fate yet he refuses to accept it and would rather embrace the darkness."

"His father was a great man," said the boy reverently, "his son could aspire to be like him, but he tends more to the selfishness and indulgence his mother preferred. I wonder what it is like to be appointed for great things?"

The old sage indulged in a smile, "lad, we are all of us called to great things. They may not seem great or important to us at the moment, but our Master has arranged for each of us to accomplish something in His name and for His kingdom, yet so many of us think our lives are mere accidents, worthless, without purpose or value."

The boy smiled, "that perspective might very well change the world if we could each live as if it was true."

The man laughed, "lad it is the very truth and it was meant to change the world, for we do not live as our Master intended, but rather reap the harvest we have sown in our rebellion, stubbornness, and pride. He calls us to abandon our own folly and seek out the joy He intends for each of us."

They drew rein outside the man's crumbling cottage and as he dismounted, the lad asked, "can I do nothing to help my lord?"

The man shook his head, "just live and serve as faithfully as you can. Encourage him in all that is right and good and true, but it is his own heart that must submit willingly to that which is to come."

The boy nodded sadly, raised his hand in farewell, and turned back the way he had come, thinking deeply on all the man had said. He turned the horses over to the grooms and sought out his small corner in the servants' quarters. He slept until he was summoned to watch at his master's door that night. The man was not abed though most of the household had retired long ago. Kyan could hear him pacing up and down in his bedchamber, too afraid to sleep yet uneasy in the decision he did not want to make. The boy sighed, wishing his life could be such an adventure, but he was a mere servant, not one with a destiny to fulfill. What happened to destiny if the intended hero refused his calling? The boy shuddered to think what might befall the world if such was the case.

A sudden light drew his meandering mind back to the present. He had thought he saw more light than could be accounted for by the guttering candle on the nearby table, but perhaps in his inattention he was imagining things. He blinked again, there was a man standing beside him. He was seeing things! He should have seen the outer door open if there was a stranger in the room.

But it was no vision, for it spoke, "easy lad, I must speak to your master." The boy rose to do something, he was undecided as to what, but the man had already vanished. He glanced around in terror, thinking himself mad or perhaps having his own strange dream, but he could see a brilliant light beneath the door and hear his master berating someone in his bedchamber. The boy smiled in relief and resumed his place. The light dimmed and Corvin hollered for his servant. Kyan burst into the room and Corvin demanded, "did you let that man in unannounced?"

The boy shook his head, "he appeared briefly but then vanished, Sir. I do not think there was any way to keep him from doing as he pleased."

Corvin seemed shaken as he sat down heavily on the bed, "he said things, things to freeze the blood of a mortal man! He spoke of hope and joy unending, yet he too demanded that I submit willingly to his Master like some pathetic servant! Yet if I refuse, the darkness waits! What am I to do?"

"Submit to the darkness willingly and it will not destroy you, fool," snarled a dark robed creature as it entered the room, "it can be a powerful tool in the right hands. You can be the master rather than the slave! Destroy any and all who oppose you rather than a wretched victim of circumstance."

Corvin suppressed his terror and actually smiled, "now these are good tidings indeed. Tell me more." The creature laughed darkly and pointed a bony finger at Kyan, muttering fell things under his breath. A wave of darkness and intense heat overwhelmed the boy and he knew no more.

When Kyan came to himself, he was lying on the floor of his master's sleeping chamber; his master and the robed magician were gone. He stood and glanced about himself, hoping for some clue as to his master's fate but there was nothing to be seen but a little soot on the carpet. "Come lad," said the same bright stranger who had so angered his master, "you wanted an adventure."

The boy frowned, "but my master?"

The man shook his head, "has chosen evil."

The boy shivered, "that creature?"

"An evil mage sent to recruit your master," said the man as he fingered his sword hilt, "their spells can be dangerous but their words are far more deadly, much as your master discovered."

"Can I do nothing to help him?" asked the boy.

The man smiled grimly, "there is no help for him now. He will enter a living death from which there is no rescue. He is now and evermore an enemy of our Master and thus ours as well."

The boy said sadly, "what will come of his servants, his lands, his people?"

The man shook his head, "that is not our concern; it is the purview of mortal men."

Kyan said in annoyance, "to whom else would it belong? It may not trouble you but it is of enormous interest to me."

The man finally understood, said he gently, "you do not understand what has happened?"

The boy stared at him, "some villainous sorcerer has made off with our master and you will leave us to fend for ourselves."

The man shook his head, "nay lad, the others must deal with this crisis as they must, you will not be numbered among them. Your duty lies elsewhere."

The boy stared at him, "what use can I be elsewhere?"

The man smiled eagerly, "you can protect mortal men from the likes of that mage and whatever it is your master shall become."

The boy laughed, "I am no warrior."

The man smiled knowingly, "not yet, but that is easily rectified. Come!"

The boy froze, "but I am needed here."

The man shook his head, "this is no longer your home. You must either come with me or see what awaits beyond the mortal sphere."

The boy's eyes widened, "the spell!"

The man nodded, "yes, now come or will you Go?"

The boy smiled eagerly, "let us be off. I wanted an adventure and it seems it has found me at last." The man smiled in anticipation and they vanished.

On the Road Again

The Prince and his companion had just vanished into the vast wood skirting the far flung farms and straggling villages, the last vestiges of civilization fading into the wildwood that shrouded the Kingdom's distant border, when they drew rein and turned to gaze curiously back the way they had come, for the sound of galloping hooves met their ears. Perhaps it was a messenger from the palace with some dire news or a man with an urgent errand in which they might have a part, but they had no more time to ponder what the sound might mean, for suddenly their horses bolted, screaming in terror and plunging blindly into the trees, sensing something terrible in pursuit and determined not to be caught, regardless of their riders' thoughts or wishes in the matter, but the riders did not curb their panicked mounts, rather they lay flat along the necks of their galloping mounts and held on for dear life, knowing innately that Death itself was in hot pursuit.

But whatever pursued them did not seem to tire or even to be the least inconvenienced by their mad flight, rather they pressed their quarry as sorely as ever though the horses leading the chase were beginning to flag, frothed in sweat and stumbling in weariness. "We can't last much longer," said Bayard desperately to the anxious Prince.

"I daren't turn and make a stand, my friend," grimaced the usually bold boy, "whatever pursues us is no natural foe! We cannot succeed in our flight but it is a better chance than facing whatever comes behind."

"Agreed!" said the young lord grimly, both wondering how much further their horses could possibly go before the inevitable pounced upon them like the fall of utter, starless night. But they need not have worried, for the horses only took another stumbling step or two and suddenly stood stock still, heads down and sides heaving, froth clinging to their necks and flanks.

"We're not dead yet," mused Bayard in wonder to no one in particular.

"No," agreed the Prince, Ithril by name, glancing about as curiously as his companion, "but neither are these the same woods we originally ventured into. Something very strange is going on."

"We did require a miracle, did we not?" chuckled Bayard in relief, dismounting and approaching what looked to be a sign of some sort posted a little way down the road. The Prince frowned pensively at his friend's antics, but a grin of anticipation, as of looming adventure, lit up his whole countenance as he followed swiftly after. They stood before the great sign and read:

' _The Road: not to be traveled lightly, but for those who are faithful to the end, they shall find not only what is needful, but also their heart's desire. Ware of traps and trick, foes and dangers aplenty, but stray not from the Path lest you never find it more and end in who knows what place or time or circumstances._ '

"It's just like something out of the old stories!" grinned Bayard as he had not since he was a much younger boy.

"What is needful?" mused the Prince quietly, "I do not think those things that pursued us will be content until the whole Kingdom, perhaps the whole world, is laid waste. I would do something to counter them, could I find the way!"

"Is that just needful or your heart's desire?" smiled Bayard broadly, one of the few who got away with teasing such a majestic and important personage as a crown prince is like to be.

"Why can't it be both?" countered Ithril, beaming like the sun himself, "We'd best be about it then."

"It will be dangerous," cautioned Bayard, in a suddenly prophetic mood.

"Any more dangerous than those things?" retorted the Prince, "I would rather risk any danger in hopes of finding a solution rather than being ridden down and hacked to pieces by whatever it was that pursued us!"

"Quite," mused Bayard for a moment before laughing grimly, "I'm happy to die beside you my friend, be it upon this venture or any other, but I am certainly glad we were spared from our previous chance to do just that!"

They returned to their horses, tended to the spent beasts as best they could so far from anywhere, and taking up the reins, led the wretched creatures back towards the sign and off upon what must prove to be their strangest adventure yet. After an hour of walking, the horses started to show signs of improvement, as if the very air of that strange Road was as invigorating and refreshing to the weary beasts as a week in a grassy paddock. The boys exchanged a wondering smile, but neither felt the least trepidation in once again mounting their saddles and setting off at a steady walk, but the horses were hardly content at so slow a pace, and frisking like colts fresh from the stall, they trotted off of their own accord as fast as their masters would allow.

"Your Highness!" said the startled servant, drawing rein suddenly and forcing all behind him to do likewise lest they collide with the south end of his north facing horse.

"Father?!" said the Prince in happy wonder, never having thought to meet the King's party upon this strange Road.

"Ithril?!" said the King in equal wonder, "What are you doing here? Is everything well at home?"

"Where do we currently find ourselves?" asked the Prince cautiously, suddenly feeling rather awkward for some inexplicable reason.

"We are two days from home," said the King slowly, wondering how it was the boy knew nothing of his own location, "my business in the neighboring realm has been successfully concluded and we are almost home. What are you about?"

"I fear there are Dread Things at home Sire," said Ithril grimly, "horrors against which mere men are certainly helpless. We ride in search of an answer."

"Your place is at home," said the King sternly, "dying with your people if there is naught else you can do to help their plight!"

Ithril shook his head grimly, knowing somehow that the only answer lay ahead and not behind, "nay Sire, there is something I can do to aid them, but to accomplish that I must finish this strange journey."

"Then if this menace is as grievous as you say, there shall be no one left when you return to counter it," said the King sternly.

"Even so, Sire," said Ithril sadly, "I must continue on."

"If there is a crown to salvage after this crisis has been dealt with," said the King like a judge passing a capital sentence, "it shall pass to another, I shall not have such a coward as heir to the throne!"

Ithril sighed heavily, but somehow he knew embarking upon this odd journey had been the end of all he once knew or dreamed, but he had nothing with which to replace it, no bright vision of the future, only a murky promise that had yet to find fulfillment. He bowed his head gravely in acceptance and kicked his horse into motion, his sad gaze meeting his father's stony eyes as they continued down the Road. The King's party had barely vanished behind a rise in the Road when they heard hooves clattering in hasty pursuit. The boys exchanged a quizzical glance and drew rein, wondering if the King had perhaps changed his mind, but rather the son of the greatest lord in the realm topped the hill and smiled triumphantly to see them awaiting him below. He spurred his horse forward and soon joined them.

"Might I accompany you, Sire?" asked Tyne eagerly.

The Prince goggled, "you willingly ride into infamy and shame?"

Tyne shrugged indifferently, "it sounds a better adventure and chance than whatever madness awaits at home. I think you have the right of it: flee while you can! Besides, who will be left to accuse me of cowardice, if such monsters lurk in wait?"

"We are upon the Road," said Bayard gravely, as if it should mean something to Tyne, who didn't seem to catch the significance thereof but he did arch a brow in question at so minor a lordling addressing one of his rank and station so informally.

Clarified the Prince, "let there be no rank or formality upon this foray, my friends, as we very well might ride to our deaths, even be it a better fate than what waits behind. But Bayard is right, Tyne, you should not accompany us in ignorance. The old tales say this Path wends where and when it will, that all sorts of deadly traps wait upon it, and that even should you finish the course, the treasure said to be waiting at its further end is never divulged to an unworthy heart."

"Well," snorted Tyne in derision, "I am certain my heart at least, will be found worthy, though I cannot say the same for you gentlemen. Let's be off then." He reined his horse sharply and set off, eagerly leading the party and forcing the others to hasten after or be left behind. They exchanged a wry glance that said neither thought it a kindly thing to leave Tyne alone upon such a strange and dangerous byway, whatever his foolishness or attitude.

They trotted on for the balance of the day, drawing rein as the twilight deepened about them, joyously refreshing themselves in the little spring that bubbled up on one side of the clearing in which they found themselves and happily partaking of the food they found miraculously occupying their saddlebags, though none had packed any such thing. "I must say this is how one ought to adventure," grinned Tyne around a mouthful of food.

"I doubt the whole journey will be so pleasant," said Bayard solemnly.

"Why must you ever be such a dour and grim fellow?" said Tyne in annoyance, "Let a fellow enjoy this little lark while he might!"

Bayard exchanged a grave look with Ithril, but soon returned to his own preparations for the night. Little more was said by anyone once supper was finished and the horses were tended to, before each was soon lost to a deep and peaceful slumber, much easing the weary hearts of the Prince and Bayard, though Tyne was in nowise so exhausted, but then he hadn't been nearly ridden down by unthinkable fiends that very morning, nor did he wonder if an answer could be found to such a dreadful menace and if they might actually return in time to avail anyone. The only one Tyne was worried about helping on this journey or any other was himself, and as he had no worries at the moment on that point, thus was his heart light and his mind easy as he succumbed to sleep's sweet embrace.

Bayard wakened in the wan light of predawn, vaguely rubbing a sore shoulder where a rock had tried to burrow into his back, wondering what had wakened him at such a dismal hour. Then he heard it again and was suddenly wide awake: a horrible snuffling sound, as of a giant hog rooting through the underbrush for anything of an edible nature. He cried aloud and his companions were immediately awake and clutching at their sword hilts even as the horses whinnied nervously and tossed their heads, anxious to be away from whatever it was. "Go!" said he quietly.

Ithril was about to protest, but he knew that stubborn light that burned bright in his friend's eyes and knew there would be no arguing with him, besides, one of them must complete the journey if there was to be any hope for their imperiled folk. With a heavy sigh and a heavier heart, he nodded wistfully in farewell to his lifelong friend and companion, before grabbing his gear and flinging himself aback his dancing horse. Tyne had no such qualms and was already mounted; the beasts needed no urging to run and soon vanished down the Road, leaving Bayard momentarily alone in the clearing, his sword bared. Suddenly a monstrous porcine creature broke cover and leapt upon the overbold youth, his strangled cry telling his companions all they need know of his fate as they urged their horses to their utmost speed, Ithril wretched in the knowledge that he could do nothing to spare his friend but desperately hoping his sacrifice had not been in vain.

At last they felt themselves well away from the fiend, whatever it was, and they reined in their panicked horses, contenting themselves with a miserable, ambling walk, at least as far as Ithril was concerned, Tyne was happily indifferent to the Prince's stricken heart, what was a minor lordling more or less? They traveled on silently for several days, Ithril sick with dread and sorrow, Tyne musing upon what waited at journey's end and what he would do with such a treasure. The trees gradually dwindled, as did the grass and all green, leafy plants, leaving them in a barren, rocky waste of thorny scrub with little by way of water or fodder for the horses. Through this weary land they stumbled, but ever the Road led them on. At last Tyne felt he could not possibly go another step without water, for their provisions had failed with the trees, leaving them as parched and hungry as their mounts.

"Here!" said Ithril, flinging himself from his saddle and rushing to the shadow of a great boulder beside the Road, at whose feet was a muddy pool, apparently fed by some underground spring.

"You want me to drink that?!" said Tyne in abhorrence, as Ithril and the horses eagerly partook of the murky water.

"That or die of thirst," retorted the Prince wryly.

"Do not be absurd!" chided a new voice, "That may be fit for peasants and livestock, but certainly not for men of breeding!"

"And what would avail so noble a man in such dire straits, as I currently find myself?" queried Tyne of the dashingly dressed stranger that had joined himself to their desperate little party.

"Would you care to refresh yourself from this?" asked the man eagerly, proffering what looked to be a flagon wrought of pure diamond and filled with crystal clear water.

"Perfect!" said Tyne eagerly, "Certainly better than that mud the horses have been at!"

"Wait!" protested Ithril, "What do we know of this fellow or his offer? Remember the dangers of this Road!"

"Bah!" spat Tyne, "Fairy tales! I'm dying of thirst and he is willing to save my life!" He took the fabulous pitcher in hand and drank greedily, while the man smiled in a very pleased and sinister manner as he watched. Tyne suddenly dropped the pitcher in horror, demanding of the cruelly smiling villain, "what have you done?"

"It's merely my livelihood," sneered the man, "and I can't thank you enough for helping me therewith." Ithril and Tyne both stared in silent horror, for the latter's feet seemed to be wrought of solid diamond and the shining malady seemed to be creeping eagerly up his legs. Continued the villain, "you'll soon enough be solid stone, albeit a very precious one, but that won't matter much to you!"

"Can nothing be done?" asked Ithril wretchedly, knowing what he must do but knowing it would also likely doom all his folk, for Tyne certainly wouldn't return home to help them, if he actually managed to finish the Road and find whatever hope waited there.

The man shrugged indifferently, "I doubt you have anything to trade of equal or greater value if I agree to spare his life?"

Ithril shook his head sadly, "only my own."

"I suppose you could take his place," sneered the villain, "are you such a fool?"

"Yes," said Ithril miserably.

"Very well," spat the man, "take his hand."

Tyne thrust his hand fervently into Ithril's and the man placed his atop both, as he muttered a few arcane words. Tyne was immediately free and dancing about in jubilation while Ithril watched in fascinated horror as the crystal wave ascended above his hips and even his finger tips and hair began to sparkle with it. A moment later, a perfect crystalline statue stood where the Prince had been. The stranger smiled maliciously and somehow shattered the diamond Prince into a dozen bright shards, that he might fit them in a great bag and carry them off. He said nothing to Tyne, save to smirk at the boy's foolishness, before continuing on his way. Tyne could only shake his head in wonder that anyone could be so inept as to sacrifice his life for another's, but it didn't trouble him overly much as he mounted his horse and continued on his way.

The days or years that followed were dreadful for the young lord, but he was determined to reach the Road's end and claim his prize. He was hungry and lonely for the entire journey and freezing when he wasn't baking. All sorts of traps, tricks, and villains awaited him, but his near brush with death had taught him caution at least, and so did he remain true to the Road and at last came crawling to the very end of it, exhausted but triumphant. But there was nothing there.

He sat heavily on an obliging stone and glanced morosely at the wide and empty land all about him. The Road ran right up to the edge of what appeared to be a bottomless canyon but did not continue on the further side or parallel the near one, it just ended. "What did you expect?" came a quizzical voice.

The boy was not surprised to find a talking bird after everything else he had encountered on this miserable journey, but disappointment and frustration were keen in his voice as he said, "something a bit more grand! I have borne the burden of this terrible Road and my noble heart deserves what has been promised."

"The wording said, 'those who remain faithful to the end,'" retorted the bird pertly, "to what have you been faithful?"

"To the Road, to myself, and my ideals!" said the boy desperately.

"How can you be faithful to the Road?" queried the bird, with a cock of his head, "It is heedless of all who tread upon it and even of its own course. It is no living thing with a mind or will of its own. But you speak truly when you say you have been true to yourself, but what matters that?"

"Then to what must one be faithful?" screamed the exasperated boy.

"Me," said that strange avian thing, "the Master of the Road and all else."

"A bird!" snorted the boy in derision, "Dream on feather brain!"

Ignoring the insolent youth, He continued, "and what of your friends?"

Tyne spat in disgust, "I would hardly call them friends, besides they couldn't even make it this far!"

"The words do not say to the end of the Road, merely, the end," said He quietly, like imminent Spring is quiet, "and both proved faithful to the very end of their brief lives." "Come!" cried He, as if calling all worlds into being. And there they stood, or rather floated, two drab, colorless wraiths wrought of fretful smoke.

Tyne could not help but smirk in triumph, "this then is their treasure? Better to stay dead than live such an existence!"

"This?" said the Magpie in surprise, "I have hardly begun! Do you think I would leave My children as beggars or orphans? Do not be ridiculous!" He gazed stonily upon the wretched shades and for a moment, each quivered in dread and horror before flinging itself into that bottomless abyss that gaped before them, or at least that was their intent, but rather than vanishing into utter night and Nothingness, rather water so wonderful it must be Life and Joy itself met them, scattering forever all thoughts and remembrance of former sins, evils, wrongs, and shortcomings that had suddenly overwhelmed their horrified sensibilities. They emerged from their bath as changed as a dragonfly crawling from the hideous juvenile creature wont to lurk in the river's mud.

There they stood, sparkling in the sun, even more bright and splendid than the diamond wrought Prince, for His light was now theirs. They drew their swords and knelt before Him, but His attention was upon the astonished Tyne, who gaped so much at the dead living again that a passing bird might be forgiven in thinking his mouth an ideal place to build its nest! Said He quietly, as Tyne closed his mouth with a very audible snap, "now what is to come of you?"

"I want the promised treasure," hissed the irate youth, "if these ghosts can achieve it, certainly I can!"

"Not with such a heart," said He quietly.

"What's wrong with my heart?" snapped Tyne, "It is everything a nobly bred man's ought to be."

"Which is precisely your problem," said the Bird dryly, but His humor was lost upon the furious lordling, continued He, "you may plunge into the Abyss and inherit Nothing this very moment, for such is all your future if you will not willingly have Me."

"Plunge into the Abyss?!" said Tyne in astonishment that the creature could talk such nonsense, "Are you mad?"

"So thinks the world," agreed He with a wink, "but I Am bigger than the world, for I am He Who wrought it. By accepting Me you inherit Everything, in refusing Me, you thereby inherit Nothing. Such will be your fate one day, as it might be today if you prefer it?"

"They jumped in the Abyss and seem no worse for wear," said Tyne hopefully, "perhaps it is all a trick, a mirage or an illusion, much like this accursed Road?"

"They found the River, not the Abyss," said He solemnly, "only those I bid find the River can, all others see only utter Night."

Tyne shivered, "I want no part in you or the Abyss. Now what?"

"Would you be returned to the King's party, none the wiser that you ever left," said He, "or would you accompany your former companions upon the adventure I have set them?"

Tyne mused aloud, "maybe this Road thing won't pan out but I could be a hero!" He nodded eagerly, "I'll be the greatest warrior in the realm, if not the world! Let's go!"

"Come children!" said He eagerly, fluttering His wings in excitement and hopping about like an overeager sparrow, "You must be horsed and then your quest awaits!" The kneeling pair exchanged a joyous gaze with Him and one another before shooting to their feet in anticipation, as their former equine companions trotted up and whinnied a greeting, as if they had completed the Road too, even if their former masters had not. "Let them drink of the River," said He. The boys nodded and each led his horse towards what appeared to Tyne as only a black, depthless canyon marring the landscape, but which to the strange eyes of the boys, looked to be the most wondrous watercourse in all the created worlds, for truly it was, and there they urged their equine companions to drink.

There came a surprised snort and a flash of brilliant light, and to the eyes of the two friends, two winged horses now stood upon the riverbank pawing impatiently to be off but Tyne saw only plain horses, as he had ever seen only two plainly clad men. Snorted he derisively, "well that was anticlimactic!"

"Perhaps," said He, "now off with you!" He glanced significantly at Tyne and said, "remember you can ever come, child, I am never far off, even in your darkest hour!"

Tyne arched a contemptuous eyebrow as the little fowl flitted off and vanished from their perception, before facing his drably garbed companions, "how are we to get home?"

"Easy enough," said Bayard, flinging himself aback the wondrous steed as Ithril did likewise, "at last, I believe the Road will avail me!"

Tyne gaped, "you want me to tread that cursed Path once more? I barely survived and might I remind you, fell spirit, that you did not!"

"Do you want to stay here?" asked Ithril with a suppressed grin, "Fear not, the Road will no longer test us but rather bear us whither and when it must."

Tyne was about to protest that he had no horse, having lost the wretched creature during his interminable journey, and how was he to keep up? But there he stood, snatching as idly at the sparse grass as if he were at home in his familiar stall. He must have come with the others and he had failed to notice. With a growled oath, he flung himself aback the beast and reined harshly after the others, said he to Ithril as they set off, "what is the so-called treasure at the end of this horrid Way? You have perhaps salvaged your lives but to what avail? Can you truly best those fiends that beset our homeland?"

"Yes we can," said Bayard brightly, drawing up on Tyne's other side, "though I would not recommend that you try it yourself."

"You want all the glory for your own!" spat Tyne.

"We have no glory but His," corrected Ithril, "rather you are not capable of importuning these creatures in the least and will only get yourself killed and tossed into the Abyss for your trouble."

"I don't understand," sighed Tyne miserably.

"Do you not?" mused Bayard.

"I refuse to think too deeply thereupon lest I be drawn into your madness!" snarled Tyne, before sinking into a gloomy, fuming silence. They did not pester him further, though they occasionally exchanged an eager, wondering glance betwixt themselves, having so much they wanted to discuss but unable to broach any of it in their current companion's presence. But suddenly duty reared its head and they had far more important concerns to address, for even as they watched their former selves gallop wearily off upon what was to them the beginning of the Road, the Road dumped them between the unspeakable fiends and their faltering prey.

Tyne gaped anew and froze in utter terror, despite his previous protests, he couldn't so much as reach for his sword in the presence of such horrors, but Bayard and Ithril were not so stymied. They drew their swords and charged the monsters, horrid skeletal things upon equally wasted horses, easily cleaving through their ranks like a scythe through a grain field, the fiends and their mounts falling to dust when mortally struck. At last they stood alone upon the road and Tyne could breathe and shake his head in wonder and glance about in confusion.

"Let's go home," said the erstwhile Prince wistfully, as the others followed silently after.

Bayard frowned slightly, caught Ithril's eye, and swiftly galloped behind the stunned Tyne. In a flash of radiant wings, suddenly they were elsewhither, outside the very gates of the city, trailing behind another party of skeletal fiends, but there was something worse at the head of this particular company: a wraithlike creature draped all in black robes over dark armor. Tyne and his horse froze in terror once more, as did all the folk and livestock in the dread company's path, but the fiend's attention was drawn inexorably to the castle at the heart of the great city, not immediately with the peasants and ponies littering his path.

They left Tyne, frozen like the diamond statue he should have been, and followed the strange procession to the very gates of the castle, but as the dreadful thing at its head started lashing out with its sword at anyone who dared bar its way, they bared their own blades and hacked the skeletal soldiers to shreds before falling upon the fell thing from behind. It turned in fury and buried its blade in Bayard's chest even as Ithril clove it in two. The mortally struck pair vanished, Bayard in a flash of light and the monster in a cloud of smoke, leaving only the Prince standing in the gate, stricken soldiers lying prone on either side of him. Forgetting the fate of his friend or his first triumph in this odd profession, rather he knelt beside the wounded men, wondering if there was anything to be done for them.

Two were only minorly wounded, though they had already lapsed into a deathlike faint from which he knew they would never waken unless some miraculous cure was imminent, and as that wondrous light flashed from his palm into the stricken soldier by which he knelt, he knew that was precisely what had happened. He turned his attention to the second mildly injured man even as the first was sitting up and glancing about in confusion. Ithril then looked upon the third and final victim, but it was a far more grievous wound which would spell the man's doom even without the evil taint contaminating the wound, and Ithril knew innately that he could only banish the taint, he could in nowise heal any rent in mortal flesh. He sighed heavily as he looked upon the dying man, the very Captain of his father's Guard, but as he sat gazing at the terrible wound and wondering what was to be done, the man gasped once and plunged into the abyss of death.

A sudden thought occurred to him, and with a wry, hopeful smile, he easily scooped up the dead man and bore him into the keep, vanishing into the first abandoned room he encountered, all he passed so flummoxed and horrified that no one noticed his antics, or if they did, they hardly knew what to make of any of it and certainly could not question him on the matter. He set down the corpse and shut the door behind him, a moment later a blinding light filled the little parlor, and when it receded, there stood two winged horses, bright as the morning, and upon them sat a broadly grinning Bayard with a rather wide-eyed Captain beside him. In another flash and flutter of wings, the horses were gone and only three rather bland looking men now inhabited the parlor, the Captain's mortal remains having vanished with the horses.

"You'd best get back to your post, Sir," said Ithril gently to the astonished man.

"Certainly Sire," said the Captain slowly, "though I have little enough idea of what is happening on this most peculiar of days!"

"We might say the same, Captain," grinned Bayard brightly, "but we each have our duties to be about, if everything else has changed, at least that has not."

"Duty, yes!" brightened the man significantly, grasping like a drowning man at this thread of sanity, at least that was something he could manage, even in his sleep, which might just be the case! He gave them both a very proper bow and trotted back out into the castle courtyard, wondering what exactly had happened, but at least it seemed whatever the ruckus at the gate, it was well and truly over. The Prince and the young Lord soon followed, all three eager to restore sense and sanity to the overwrought folk standing about like stunned fowl in a barnyard. As the last man was shaking his head in wonder and joy at their miraculous rescue, whatever had happened, the King and his party suddenly clattered into the courtyard with their usual fuss and bother.

Servants ran hither and yon, taking reins and dashing off with horses, helping the new arrivals to dismount, rushing off with luggage. The King glanced about curiously, but still in a grim mood after his encounter with his son the day before. If the Kingdom was infested with horrors, he saw no sign of it. He called over the Captain of his Guard and asked after the matter.

"Monsters?" said the Captain slowly, Garren by name, "I do believe something of the sort just tried to force their way into the keep, but they were driven off, if not destroyed. Two of the guards were wounded, but none seriously."

"What bold warriors drove off such terrors?" asked the King eagerly.

"It was the Prince and his retainer alone that thwarted their efforts, all the rest of us were frozen in terror," said the man with a reminiscent shudder.

"The Prince?!" said the King in confusion, "I met him riding in the opposite direction yesterday morning! It was he that brought me word of the things and refused to do aught about them! I disinherited him on the spot, refusing to have such a coward upon the throne in my stead."

"Yesterday?!" said the Captain in wonder, "I am certain the boy was about the keep all day yesterday and rode out only this morning for a jaunt through the country, returning upon the very heels of those things."

"This is all very strange," said the King, "you say everyone else was frozen in terror? Then how was it he and his friend could counter the monsters?"

"I know not Sire," said the Captain, "perhaps you should ask him yourself."

"That I will," said the King, glancing about, hoping to catch a glimpse of the boy in the chaos that was the courtyard.

"I'll find him, Sire," said the Captain, bowing his farewell and dashing off to do just that, but the boy wasn't to be found in the busy courtyard, so he went looking deeper into the castle itself. He found the pair deep in conference in an abandoned corridor. They froze when they sensed his approached and watched warily with their overly keen and piercing eyes, alien in those otherwise youthful faces, upon recognizing him, they visibly relaxed and motioned for him to join them.

He bowed deeply and said, "your father would see you, Sire,"

"Yes," said the former Prince quietly, "I will see him shortly, but first we have much to discuss."

"We, Sire?" said the flummoxed guardsman.

"Do you remember nothing?" grinned Bayard, "Or think you it was only a nightmare?"

"That was real?!" gasped the man in wonder.

"The terror and the joy," laughed Bayard in delight, "most especially the joy."

"I'm a dead man," said the man in wonder, studying his normal seeming hands as if he had never before seen such an appendage.

"We're beyond death, my friend," smiled Ithril brightly, "how else do you think we defeated things no mortal can withstand?"

"Your father is wondering exactly that," said Garren wryly.

"And I have no answers to give him," laughed Ithril ruefully, "I hardly know what it is we have begun ourselves, and what little I do know cannot be revealed to just anyone."

"How?" asked the Captain.

"We set out this very morning upon our weekly ride," began Bayard, "and found ourselves pursued by just such a dreadful company. Before our horses collapsed in exhaustion, we found ourselves safe and sound upon the Road, at least relatively speaking." He then went on to regale him with the rest of the tale, much astounding the man and eliciting an eager smile on that wondering countenance, as he anticipated just what this peculiar occupation might hold for him.

"So what of the King?" asked Garren at last.

"We'd best keep him waiting no longer," said Ithril grimly, adding with a frown, "what of Tyne?"

"I haven't seen him since he froze in terror and we left him at the outer gates to pursue our foes," said Bayard quietly.

"He isn't about the courtyard or keep that I have seen," said the Captain gravely.

"That's a matter we'll have to deal with later, if it is ours to handle, but first," said he with a sigh, "let us to my father." Of one accord, they hastened back to the impatient King, who was still astonished to see his seemingly wayward son within the castle even though the Captain had assured him that was indeed the case.

After the proper courtesies, they retreated to a quiet apartment before the King began his interrogation, pacing imperiously before the three like a magistrate before the condemned, he paused to stare at his own son and demanded, "what is going on?"

The boy unabashedly grinned at his overly grave father and said impishly, "that I hardly know, Sire."

The man's eyes narrowed, "did I not meet you yesterday morning riding in the opposite direction?"

"Perhaps to your perception," said the boy, "to my own it has been quite a long and strange time."

"To accomplish such a feat one must fall out of time or be in two places at once?!" said the stymied King.

"Precisely," agreed Ithril, "but when one is upon the Road, one can do exactly that."

"That old story so prominent in your mother's mythology?!" said the King aghast, "If you persist in such nonsense, I will truly deny you the throne!"

"That you should, father," said the boy quietly, "indeed, you must!" The King could only gape in open astonishment at such a bald statement from such a source.

While the Prince and the King were engaged in the most peculiar conversation of their lives together, Bayard and Garren bowed themselves out and withdrew quietly from the room once it became obvious their presence was entirely forgotten and they had nothing to add to the curious revelations being broached therein.

"I wish there was a book or a library or something we could reference at need," joked Garren as they wended their way aimlessly through the less frequented corridors of the palace.

"Why not," smiled Bayard eagerly, flinging wide the nearest door, which should have revealed a little used sleeping chamber, but rather boasted what seemed to be a grand library far larger than the castle's impressive ballroom.

"I guess if it can be done with a Road, why not a Room," smiled the Captain wryly, but betraying as much excitement as his overjoyed companion as they both vanished therein. "Where does one even begin?" said Garren in awe.

"With the right question, of course," sniffed a stiff, musty voice, like some ancient, leather-bound tome being opened for the first time in centuries.

"What if we have too many questions to even know where to begin?" asked Bayard of the gnomish creature that had popped his head out of the stacks like a gopher out of a hole. Whether it was a true gnome or a rather short man, ancient beyond reckoning, he knew not.

"Pick the most pressing and make a beginning," sniffed the creature again, as if they were dullards indeed, but when considering their new profession, that was indeed the case.

"We do not even know the proper terminology to begin asking even the most basic questions, sir," said Garren patiently, much amused by the irascible creature but hiding it valiantly.

"Dire straits indeed," agreed the wrinkled and wizened form, "but now knowing your vast ignorance, I truly do pity you, but at least you are wise enough to admit your ignorance and seek to rectify the matter. Indeed, I believe I have just the thing!" He trotted off amid the trackless wastes of literature and emerged some minutes later with a dusty but gigantic book which he placed on the nearest table for their inspection, nearly glowing in anticipation of their imminent gratitude and wonder.

"An Introduction to Man," read Garren solemnly, near to bursting with amusement.

"Precisely," agreed their literary guide, "you should be able to answer all your species specific questions therein."

"I'm sure we could," said Bayard politely, "but our questions do not originate in the sphere of knowledge peculiar to mortal men."

"What are you suggesting?" said the wizard of words quizzically, blinking at them like a confounded tortoise.

"Have you anything pertaining to the Road or undead horrors against which mortal men are helpless?" asked Garren.

The gnomish librarian gasped, "you wish to access the Restricted Records?!"

"Restricted?" queried Bayard.

"Not even I have the key to that shelf," said that raisin of a researcher grimly, "the contents thereof are not to be seen except by those who require it."

"Let us see this shelf of yours," mused Garren, "at worst we can merely admire the dust upon it, if nothing else."

"I did not say I could not maintain the collection," said the gnomish gentleman huffily, "dust indeed!"

"Forgive me," said Garren, viciously squashing a smile, "I meant no insult to your methods sir, I was merely in jest."

"Quite," said the creature snappishly, before turning on his heel and leading them off upon a safari into the uncharted depths of the Library.

It was just another shelf, like all the others, and as stated, there was not a trace of dust to be seen. Asked Bayard curiously, "what happens when you try to take down a book not meant for you?"

The gnome reached towards the nearest book, but he might as well have tried peeling a particular floral design off the papered walls for all it availed him. The pair exchanged a marvelous smile, before Garren reached towards the shelf himself, as he did so, one of the books began to glow with a familiar light. His smile deepened as he took the radiant tome in hand and held it for his companions to examine.

"How did you do that?!" squawked the librarian in alarm.

Garren grinned widely, "you ask the self-proclaimed ignoramuses?"

"Who are you?" countered that pensively frowning person.

"Merely men," said Garren, "set upon a quest we barely understand, that is why we sought your help."

"Curious," mulled the mannish gnome, "no mortal man should be able to access that shelf!"

Garren wryly arched a brow, "did I say mortal men?"

"Indeed, you quite spared me such an atrocious attempt at alliteration," admitted the creature reluctantly, "may I ask the title of that particular book?"

"You can't see it?" asked Bayard in surprise.

"It will only reveal itself to whom it is meant," retorted he, "remember?"

"It is titled, 'The Messenger's Handbook,'" said Garren, exchanging an eager glance with Bayard, at least they now had a title to go with their new profession.

"Mortal men indeed!" said that gnomish thing, "Why did you not say so from the first?"

Garren barked a laugh, "did we not tell you we know nothing, absolutely nothing, of all this?"

"Quite," sighed the gnome in agreement, "but I believe that shall answer your questions." Garren turned the book over, as if to access the index at the back, eliciting a dusty chortle from their companion, as if a dictionary had tried to laugh, "there's no index! You simply ask your question and the book shall find the appropriate section itself."

Bayard smiled widely, "if only the books of my former acquaintance had been so amenable, how much easier my education might have been!"

"If one does not work for his own edification, of what value is it?" sniffed their grievously offended host, almost as miffed about that comment as he had been upon the topic of dust.

"Quite," grinned Bayard rather ruefully.

Having gained his point, the mollified muller said agreeably, "is there anything else or shall I leave you to peruse your book?"

"What is the nature of this Library?" asked Garren curiously, "It minds me much of what the Road is said to be in all the tales I've ever heard tell of it."

"In a way," said the only denizen thereof, "but there are no dangers or traps or tests here, merely information and peace."

"Thank you," said the Messengers with a deep and gratifying bow to their host, as he nodded curtly and waddled off on some pressing errand, at least to his sensibilities, leaving his patrons to their own devices.

They seated themselves at the nearest table, but when Garren tried to open the book, it was as if he tried to page through a stone, "strange," said he with a slight frown.

Bayard smiled brightly and placed a glowing hand upon the cover, the book again radiated that deadly fire, and then flopped open as lazily as an old dog plops down on a familiar hearth rug. They exchanged another wondering, joyous glance, as each began to read.

Tyne sat over perhaps his tenth cup of the nameless ale for which this particular inn was renowned, not that he had ever heard of it or had ever frequented the place, but it was convenient and full of shadows in which he might lose himself and his deep-seated unease. Had it all been a dream? A nightmare? Why could he not partake in either, but was denied the former while freezing in terror upon the latter? Ah, wretched man! What madness had engulfed the Kingdom, his very life, and why could he not avail himself of it! He emptied the mug and ordered another, feeling as if he had drained his very mind and heart to the dregs likewise but with nothing to come of any of it but a raging headache on the morrow. Had any of it even been real?

The serving girl had just set down his mug when a somewhat familiar seeming man sat himself down across from the troubled youth, ordering the same for himself as the barmaid scurried off. Once she was well and truly gone, the stranger said to the gawping youth, "remember me, do you?"

"I had hoped it was all a nightmare," groused his lordship gloomily, "what has it availed me?" He skewered the cynically beaming intruder with a glower, "what do you want?"

"I'm a man of opportunity, am I," replied the fellow, jaunty as a courting lark, "as I assume you to be?"

"What's in it for me?" scowled Tyne.

"I've come to hawk my wares," smiled the man slowly, eagerly, and hardly pleasant, "and seeing a familiar face, I wondered if you might be interested in introducing me to potential clients for a cut of the profit?"

"I can certainly introduce you to the influential and wealthy hereabouts," said Tyne indifferently, "but profit is hardly a motive in my doing so. It might very well have been my life that fuels your livelihood!"

The man smiled like a vulture scenting death, "then how about ultimate revenge upon the man who would eternally shame you?"

"I'm listening," said Tyne, leaning forward intently.

"That boy, who was he?" queried the man.

"The very Prince of the Realm," smiled Tyne maliciously, "indeed, I think I begin to find myself much interested in your offer, sir."

"Quite," agreed the fell merchant cruelly.

"You will tell me nothing of this strange adventure?" persisted the King wretchedly, failing utterly in his pursuit of forbidden knowledge even after his most valiant and tireless efforts.

Said Ithril quietly, "I hardly know anything myself, Sire. Save that I cannot one day be King and that I seem to have fallen headlong into a fairy tale. As to what those creatures were or what they want, I know not nor even how I could quite be in two places at once!"

"Very well," sighed the weary King, "I consign you to your fate, whatever it be!" The boy bowed his head graciously as the King withdrew, nearly tripping over an anxious servant that had been waiting outside the door this half hour at least, "what is it?" demanded he.

"You must see for yourself Sire," said the breathless man, "it is quite astounding!"

The King was shocked enough at the man's unseemly outburst that he even went so far as to exchange an intrigued look with his rogue son, and without a word, both followed the bouncing man out into the courtyard, where a gasp escaped both father and son, but for very different reasons.

The merchant and his lordly companion easily made their way into the main courtyard of the palace, where they found a quiet place beside the great fountain that burbled there in the starlight. "Now," said the seller of ill-gained diamonds, "I'm sure you have missed your friend." He drew out his knapsack and dumped the shards upon the flagstones, said a few strange words, and there stood the crystal prince, whole once more. Tyne's smile was malice indeed, especially as the various occupants of the courtyard gathered around them to gasp their own wonder and astonishment.

Said an anxious and eager servant, "I shall fetch the King immediately!" Tyne's wicked gaze followed the man's retreat with relish.

The King gasped in wonder and Ithril in horror, what was that wretched man doing here, and with Tyne in tow?! The King hastened up to the merchant, who made the proper courtesies, as the King demanded to know what he wanted and how he had rendered such a perfect imitation and did he not know the Prince was in disgrace? But the man heard not a word of it, for he had eyes only for the boy himself, how was this possible? Why had that wretched young lord not said something?

"I beg your pardon, Highness," said the villainous merchant, "but your lordly presence has quite driven all the sense right out of me, might I beg your indulgence in repeating yourself?" The King sniffed grimly but did just that, Tyne and Ithril both enjoying the man's obvious startlement at the presence of the latter.

"A pity Sire, a veritable pity," said the merchant sadly as the situation was made clear to him, "that the real man could not be as beautiful and valuable as the imitation." He spoke a few words and the statue fell again to shards, as he continued, "perhaps you would like to buy a piece rather than the whole?" At the King's baleful glare, he gathered up his wares and slunk like a beaten dog from the courtyard, Tyne and Ithril following like silent shadows, as the King stormed back into the keep to fume and fret as he most desperately needed.

He returned to that shadowy inn, resumed his seat, as the two former adventurers joined him. "What is going on?" hissed he to them both, and to Tyne, "Why did you not tell me?"

Tyne laughed in cruel glee, "now we are even, villain, for your attempt upon my life." He glanced uneasily at the boy sitting beside him, "as to the how, that I cannot say!"

Growled that seller of forbidden wares, "how, boy?"

"Know you not the purpose of the Road upon which you carry out your grim business?" countered Ithril.

"But you did not complete it," snarled the man, "and even if you had, it is not as if the stories are true!"

"You tell me the very thoroughfare upon which you conduct your loathsome business is not real?" parried Ithril.

"The Road is real enough, I grant you," said he grudgingly, "but no man can make it to the end, and even if he did, that so-called treasure is a myth. You didn't even make it yourself!"

"Did I not? Then what am I doing here?" mused the boy, and then glancing at Tyne he added, "Did he not tell you he has been to the end of the Road himself?"

"That he did not," said their grim companion, with a speculative glance at the silent Tyne, "but then he hasn't exactly been forthcoming about much else either."

Ithril was about to respond but he suddenly evaporated in a brilliant flash, as a black dagger took him in the heart, and a blandly accoutered man with the eyes of corpse invited himself to sit in the vanished boy's place, said he conversationally, his voice as dead as his eyes, "forget that ghost, gentlemen. I have a far better offer to make you..." They both shuddered in dread, but leant forward so as not to miss a word.

Ithril appeared in the Library with a flash, which elicited a derogatory sniff from the proprietor, some gnomish thing, who then vanished into the stacks and left the boy to his own devices. The boy could not help but smile wryly at his circumstances as he trotted deeper into that wilderness of literature in search of he knew not what, but when he stumbled upon his comrades, who had seemingly lost themselves in one of the countless specimens about them, he could not help but grin in anticipation. "What have you found?" queried he.

They blinked as if someone had suddenly unveiled a light in an utterly dark room, but smiled in greeting, as Bayard said, "we're studying the Handbook. How was your visit with your father?"

"I could tell him nothing and he's disowned me anew," grinned Ithril, as if at a great joke, for somehow his previous relationships now meant little to him, at least compared to all he had yet discovered of this strange and intriguing new reality, and that was but a few drops of a vast and mighty sea. He asked hopefully, "Handbook?"

Garren laughed brightly, "at least upon those topics we can think to ask about." At Ithril's confused look, he quickly told of their literary adventures thus far.

Ithril smiled drolly, "your gnomish companion was certainly not impressed by my entrance." He sobered and went on to tell of his own encounter with Tyne.

The former captain nodded gravely, "why don't you take a look at this most intriguing book, lad, I've an errand I must be about!" They all grinned widely at the irony of the Captain calling the Prince 'lad' but also knew it somehow very appropriate. Garren stood as a great winged horse appeared with a similar flash as accompanied Ithril's own entrance, rearing and screaming his eagerness to be off, what such a scene must do to that poor gnome's sensibilities, they could certainly imagine, and after sharing a vastly amused smile, the captain vanished with a quick salute and a flutter of radiant wings. Ithril assumed the vacant seat and began reading with utter delight, fascinated as a child immersed in the most enchanting of fairy tales, for verily he was.

"The Road," grinned Garren, reading the same sign the boys had encountered upon their first foray thereupon. The horse's only comment was to snort and shake his great mane, as if he cared not for such touristy matters. "You're right my friend," chuckled the Captain blithely, "such signage is not for our benefit, but for whose benefit are we here?" The horse did not bother to comment, being a wise enough beast that he never learned to speak, thus he could never betray his ignorance thereby. But Garren expected no reply so was therefore not disappointed, for he knew the horse to be an overly wise beast, but a beast still, no sapient creature was this.

"What are you doing here?!" said a scathing and contemptuous voice.

Garren turned from the sign to the person who had silently ridden up beside him, but was not surprised to see Tyne there astride a horse, black as night and silent as death, while his own frisked and snorted impatiently, as if a stallion fretful and eager to challenge a rival that had strayed into his own paddock, strangely Garren felt the same towards his companion, but he had far more control of himself than the silly beast. Replied he solemnly, "have I not as much right as the next man to be found hereupon?"

"Much good it did your precious Prince!" hissed the young lordling in scorn, "And you will address me as is proper from one of your station to one of mine, or you will not live to regret it!"

"Won't I?" laughed the captain heartily, "I will address you as one man to another, for that is all we can be upon this strange way, our former rank and station mean nothing hereupon."

"Just stay out of my way!" snarled the eerie seeming fellow, as he turned his horse sharply and spurred cruelly off down the Road.

"He was never a very charming or polite fellow," mused Garren to his horse, as much to the air as to himself, "but something has changed dreadfully since our last encounter." He urged his own mount after the fled villain, wondering what the presence of each meant upon that strange way.

But before he had gone more than a few strides, a familiar voice called out from behind, "Sir?!" He reined in his horse and allowed one of the newest guardsmen to approach at an eager canter.

"How is your wound, Kyan?" asked the captain cordially, knowing the man had been injured during the fracas at the palace gates, what seemed an eon ago.

"I'm just fine sir, and you?" asked the boy a little awkwardly, to be so cordially conversational with his commanding officer.

"Better than new," said he brightly, "relax man, we are but two men upon this peculiar Road, what need have we of formality? How is it you come to be hereupon?"

"Those dreadful things sir," said the boy grimly, "and our miraculous rescue. I was certain we were all of us doomed or worse! Upon waking, I suddenly remembered all my mother's old tales and wondered if they might not be true, and riding home that night, I found myself here and decided to see what would come of it. What of you?"

Said the captain soberly, but wishing to grin like morning itself, "I was in the Library but a moment ago and the next was reading that sign over yonder."

"What an adventure this will be!" said the boy eagerly, "Are you to accompany me?"

"For as long as I am allowed," mused the Captain, "though I fear we each must go our own way for at least part of the journey."

"As it should be, sir," agreed Kyan eagerly, "shall we be off?"

"Certainly," said the Captain, feeling he ought to let the lad lead the way.

"Not without me!" said an anxious voice, as a scruffy lad aback an absolutely ancient mule plodded up as fast as the beast could stiffly manage.

"And who might you be?" grinned the captain in pure delight.

"Kipril," said the boy unabashedly, never having been amongst the high and mighty and knowing no society outside his tiny and isolated village, he knew nothing of the terror that rank and importance should inspire in his bold little peasant heart.

"Well met," said Garren, "well met indeed!" His new companions likewise introduced themselves as they turned their mounts and set off with joyous and eager hearts, if only the mule could be equally exuberant!

Content at last in their perusal of the book, at least for the moment, Bayard sighed heavily and was about to replace it, when Ithril proposed, "why don't we just keep it for a bit?"

Bayard frowned, "but what if someone else has need of it?"

"Think about it," said Ithril, "especially in light of what we know of the Road."

Bayard nodded and then smiled, "whoever has need of it, wherever and whenever, will certainly have access to it. We can each have a personal copy at need without robbing the Library of its own, even be it the same book! What a strange and wonderful idea!"

"Welcome to life beyond the basic laws of time and place," said a female voice, as both boys turned suddenly to face the source, offering polite bows as they did so. They gaped slightly and then exchanged an intrigued and amused glance at the spectacle before them, much amusing the speaker, said she with a light laugh, as of a fairy, "have you never seen a lady with a sword? I have come in search of the Captain?"

"Of the Royal Guard?" asked Ithril in confusion.

She eyed him skeptically but amended, "of the Messengers."

"We're very new at this," said Bayard with a sheepish grin, "we've yet to meet the man."

"We're all new at this," smiled she, a butterfly in the sun, "I've come to report for duty."

The boys exchanged one of those laughing, joyous glances as Bayard dutifully flopped open the book before them, their eyes eagerly devouring the words upon that particular page, said the former lordling in vast amusement, "I must amend my words, milady, for I have met the man, but he doesn't even know it himself! How come you by this information?"

She shrugged, "I just knew." As did they, for the next moment, three bright-winged horses stood in the midst of that much abused bookroom, and just as swiftly all had vanished forthwith, happily resigning the gnomish bookkeeper to his own devices for the foreseeable future.

They had traveled for three days, but nothing much had happened that might not happen on any similar foray in the wide world. The boys were fast friends, each enjoying the company of the other, the pleasant weather, the excitement of such an adventure, and the beautiful country through which they rode. Garren watched the pair like a hen her chicks with a fox on the loose, but so far, his sword had remained quietly in its sheath. That night, as they untacked their horses and set up their scanty camp, a shadowy figure drew out of the deepening dusk, intent on joining their party. Garren's hand was immediately upon his hilt, but he knew, at least for now, he was forbidden from interfering.

The boys were in nowise afraid, indeed, their uneventful journey upon such a storied way had increased their thirst for adventure almost to the point of recklessness. Tyne sat down beside their pathetic attempt at a fire and asked, genially as a dead man might, "where are you lads bound?"

"We've fallen into the stories!" rejoiced Kipril in delight.

"The stories, bah!" laughed Tyne like a winter wind troubling the withered leaves yet clinging to a flimsy branch.

"You don't believe the stories?" said Kyan, a bit disheartened.

"Who needs stories when you can have a real adventure, lads?" retorted Tyne with a dismissive sneer.

"This is a real adventure," replied Kipril in dismay.

"There's nothing at the end of this silly little road of yours but disappointment," spat Tyne, "I've been there! If you want purpose and meaning and power, lads, then you had best turn aside and discover what I have to offer."

"No," said Kyan in disgust, "I don't like the feel of you sir, nor your treatment of our ideals, ignorant as you may find us or pathetic as they may seem."

Kipril crossed his arms and glared silently at the intruder, Garren stood off to the side and watched keenly. Knowing he had lost all chance at corrupting their intensions and foiling their aspirations, Tyne decided there was only one way to resolve the issue, but as he reached for a hidden dagger, Garren's sword neatly clove him in two. He vanished with a pitiful wail even as he fell to ash where he sat, the boys gazing at their companion in wonder and horror.

Trembled Kyan in terror, once he had regained the use of his tongue, "sir?!"

Garren smiled easily as he put up his blade, "easy lads, you have nothing to fear from me, only the undead fiends that mean you imminent harm need tremble thus."

Kyan's eyes narrowed thoughtfully in remembrance, "you asked after my wound sir, but I never asked after your own. Before I fell, I was certain those fiends had dealt you a grievous blow indeed!"

"Considering all the other miracles of the day, lad," grinned his former captain, "what is one more? I fell mortally wounded beside you, but am I a ghost?" He held out his hand that the other might take it if he wished to reassure himself thus.

But the boy only shook his head and smiled, "I'll content myself with your word on things, sir. So far you have done us no harm nor tried to lead us astray, indeed you have not done anything to direct our steps, when you should be the leader of this outing!"

Garren shook his head, "nay lad, it is not my place, this is your journey and you must decide what is to be done thereupon. My duty is to see that no fell thing falls upon you over which you cannot triumph."

Kipril frowned, "that doesn't sound as if you will do much to defend us or rescue us should things go ill?"

Garren smiled grimly, "that's exactly what I can't do lad, this is a dangerous path to tread and many are those who perish upon it, but that does not mean you will fail in your attempt, even so."

"What's the use of such a companion if he won't stand by us should the worst happen?" persisted Kipril.

Kyan shook his head and laughed at his friend's hardheadedness, "he isn't standing aside or abandoning us to anything, we must choose our fate and in that he is for some reason forbidden to meddle, rather he can only ward us from those things against which mortal men can find no other recourse."

"It would be far easier if he could defend us from all ill circumstances!" sighed Kipril dejectedly.

"That would likely defeat the entire purpose of this Road," cautioned Kyan, "would you be better served to turn aside and go home now?"

"No," said he hastily, "I'm set upon reaching the end and discovering what treasure lies thither."

"Even if this way tries your heart sore?" asked Kyan quietly.

"How bad can it be?" laughed the other, though it was more brittle than bright, "Thus far it hasn't been difficult at all; we must be halfway there already!" The two former guardsmen could only exchange a pained and worried glance before they all retreated to their blankets, though sleep was long in coming for them both as Garren silently watched the night and wondered what would come of the adventurous lads.

In the morning they rode off as usual, but the bright and blithe company of only the previous day was hardly recognizable in the thoughtful, silent trio that set off with the dawning. The day soon waxed hot and the pleasant breeze and sheltering trees had vanished as suddenly as their youthful enthusiasm. They plodded on through the sweltering morning and wearily stopped at midday beside the pittance of a brook that wound petulantly through those now waste and dreary lands. There was no shelter save the shadow of some stunted thorn bush or that cast by an insignificant boulder, which is to say nothing at all.

"Come lads," said a voice as they sat listlessly about, wondering if such a rest could do anything for their weary hearts and bodies, "why so downcast?" They looked up disinterestedly at first, but upon second glance, both shot to their feet, as if invigorated by the mere presence of the man who had unwittingly intruded himself into their wretched siesta. Having their eager attention, he continued, "you do know that down that particular path, only death awaits? But I've found an easier way, one that does not wend through such waste places and where there is no dearth of food, water, or fodder for your poor beasts."

"No," said Kyan, slumping back to his uncomfortable seat astride one of those unremarkable stones, that might shade a family of mice but nothing more significant of stature, "your way might be pleasant indeed but it will not lead to the end we seek."

"But come Kyan," said Kipril plaintively, "have we not suffered enough, and to what end? Do you want to die?"

"Your friend speaks sense lad," said the stranger gently, "for I know of a certain there's a band of brigands just over the next hill, come away before you regret it."

"No," said Kyan grimly, "whatever my end, it will be faithfully accomplished."

"As much good as that will do you as your carcass rots unburied in this desolate place!" spurned the stranger, and addressing Kipril, he asked, "Are you coming lad?"

"No," said Kipril heavily, "I'll accompany my friend."

"Very well," said the stranger regretfully, "but if you survive the bandits, I'll be waiting, should you change your mind." He strode off, as if unencumbered by the oppressiveness of the place, as the boys exchanged a glum look and made ready to ride. And as foretold, there was indeed a party of rogues just beyond the next hill.

An arrow in his side, Kyan drew rein and turned his antsy horse, calling to his companions, "ride on, I'm done, at least I can spare the rest of you."

Kipril gave him a last, heartbreaking look and urged his mule onwards, the mad creature almost matching Kyan's horse for speed in his panic. The rogues had no interest in the fleabag or the penniless boy aback him, but Kyan's horse at least was worth what little trouble it took to capture horse and rider both. Garren fell back with the stricken boy, calling to the fleeing Kipril, "I'll follow when all is finished; do not lose heart or turn from the Way!" The boy nodded grimly before he vanished beyond a distant rise.

Kyan slumped in his saddle, grasping miserably at the shaft in his flank and gasping for air. "Easy lad," said Garren gently, as the rogues approached, but they were apparently blind to the presence of the Captain and his wondrous beast, else they would not have so boldly attacked the little party, with even so little defense as one experienced warrior might offer.

"Get off your horse boy!" spat one of the unwashed host.

Kyan complied immediately by falling off and lying unmoving on the stony ground. They took up the reins, rifled the corpse, and returned to their place of concealment, to await the next ambush. Garren looked sadly upon the once bold young soldier, reined his horse around, and vanished from that place.

He rode slowly into the wooded glen in which Kipril had concealed himself amid the welcome coolness of a sylvan night. Garren said nothing, nor must he, that he returned alone and with such a solemn mien was enough to tell the tale. Kipril's eyes, bright with tears, vanished again into the concealment of his arms as he wept long and hard for his lost friend. At last, he demanded of Garren, "how could you survive such an ambush? Why could you not rescue my friend?"

Said Garren quietly, "they did not even know I was there. I am forbidden from meddling in mortal affairs and their weapons are of no use against me, as are mine against them!"

"Why couldn't he just listen to that sensible man?" wept Kipril wretchedly, "Then all would be better than well!"

"No," said Garren grimly, "forsaking this Road the moment it grew difficult is exactly what your friend wished to avoid; the very thing you have repeatedly been warned against! He knew an honest death was better than a life lived in cowardice and fear. Even now I will bear you wherever you have a wish to go, only do not fall to the traps upon the way!"

"Then my friend will have died in vain," sniffed the boy wretchedly, "if only to honor his memory, I must complete the Road."

"His death was not meaningless," said Garren quietly, but with such fervency that the boy almost began to hope he was right, "and that you will realize one day, if you come to the end with a faithful heart."

"Come lad," said the same stranger who had warned and coaxed him to stray from the path but a few hours prior, "have you not suffered enough? Leave this weary way and find rest for your aggrieved heart!"

"No," said Kipril heavily, "as wretched as this Path is, I must finish it. At last I understand, even if it makes me utterly miserable, there are greater things beyond death and misery and sorrow, but each must be patiently borne in its turn as we walk through this sad vale we call life."

"You are an utter fool, boy!" spat the stranger in scorn, "But I will give you death, as that seems to be your wish." He did not see Garren, like the bandits, he never even glimpsed the man, nor could he do aught against what was to come. If the boy would not accompany him willingly and end a slave, he would not live at all! The boy gurgled piteously, his throat cut, as his lifeblood pooled on the stony ground beneath him. The man laughed cruelly and vanished into the shadows; Garren shook his head sadly and left that place of murder and death.

He reappeared in a place he remembered only as the dream of a dream, but now more real than waking life. He dismounted and left the prancing horse some distance from the great and frothing river that filled the whole vale with its mighty roar. A flash of white was all he saw of the Magpie as He vanished with distance or perhaps from perception, but it was the splashing and flailing boys who caught his full attention and brought a broad smile to his face. At last the theoretically drowning lads gave in to the swift current and were borne suddenly to the stony bank, where they sat grinning broadly at one another and their jubilant Captain both.

"On your feet lads," said Garren happily, "we've business to be about!"

"But we didn't finish the Road," protested Kipril in wonder, gazing about at the broad and verdant land in awe.

"Who said one needs to finish?" chuckled he, "I never even set foot upon it!"

"Faithful to the end?" asked Kyan suspiciously of his once and future Captain, "Apparently not necessarily the end of the Road!"

"Aye lad," nodded Garren, "that wound was the end of my mortal strivings but only the beginning of my adventures."

"Hence your inability to defend us from the meanest footpads or pickpockets!" laughed Kipril brightly, adding reflectively, "Not that it wouldn't utterly defeat the purpose of such a journey." Suddenly they both snapped to attention and offered a brisk salute, "reporting for duty, Captain!" Garren groaned in feigned misery, the notion had been gradually gaining credence in the back of his mind and now it lunged ruthlessly to the fore; it was a good thing he had a little experience with this sort of thing, if not with the Messengers themselves!

They sat like three peasant children, side by side and carefree, upon a great log that spanned a little brook that rushed swiftly and unheeding beneath their idly swinging legs, amid the wood-shadows and ethereal brightness of a sylvan morning. The lady blinked in astonishment, had she not, but a moment before, been astride the most glorious steed never foaled and here she was beside two strange boys, lazing about on a summer morning? The boys only smiled the more, enigmatic and cheerful as the singing water below. "What is going on?" demanded she at last.

Bayard said with a laugh, "we have no idea, milady, nothing has been predictable or normal since we ventured upon that strange Road, but perhaps we have grown used to the phenomenon, whereas you are still very new thereto?"

"Yes," said she slowly, "I know only that I must find our Captain and report for further orders." Their humor was quickly contagious and easily dispelled her confusion and unease, as she added with an arch smile, "not that I had expected to discover two such boys in his command!"

Bayard barked a laugh, "easy milady, that boy is a very Prince of the Realm."

"Really?!" said she quite seriously, "Then perhaps you could help me with a slight conundrum?"

"What is it?" asked Ithril enthusiastically, always eager to help a damsel in distress, even if she was a comrade and had just called him a boy.

"Preventing a war," said she grimly.

"Can we?" countered Bayard, "Are the affairs of individual men, and even whole Kingdoms, our concern now unless we are sent specifically to deal with them?"

"I had not thought of that!" said she in distress, "Can I so easily fail in this service through ignorance and good intentions?"

"Let's consult the book," said Bayard eagerly, producing his pilfered tome and opening to the relevant page. They scanned the paragraph hungrily and exchanged an intrigued look, as Bayard laughed in relief, "it seems that is in nowise the case at least, though we can willfully rebel if we so choose." He eyed the lady somberly, "so if you feel it your duty to do something to prevent this dreadful possibility, it would seem that that is indeed your quest. While we wait to consult the Captain thereupon, what can you tell us of the situation?"

She eyed Ithril speculatively, but began in earnest, "I was a Princess before I abandoned it all to discover that legendary Road..."

"You cannot be serious, Highness!?" protested the handmaiden in what sounded like panic.

"But I am Maggie," sighed Kaya heavily, "there is nothing else to be done! My father will not be reasoned with nor can I resign myself to such a marriage! I must flee to the one place none will ever find me, if it even exists."

"But what is wrong with the match?" persisted the agonized lady in waiting, "He's a Prince and will one day be King! It will guarantee peace between the realms for another generation..."

"But if the man's father is such an irascible old soul, what must the son be like?" said the Princess in great dread, "And by the time I discover his character, it will be too late to do aught about it. I must flee this moment if I am to escape such a fate."

"But milady!" protested the maid once more, "I must fetch your father!"

"Gracious!" said the Princess, "I must fly this moment!" She grabbed her skirts and immediately dashed off, while the stunned handmaid stood there gaping for a moment before doing likewise, only to fetch the King or the Steward ere her mistress could escape the castle entirely.

She did not even think to stop a moment to gather supplies, but flew as the hind before the hounds, dashing heedlessly through the courtyard and out the gate, past the staring guards and servants to see royalty moving in such haste and agitation, but rather than finding the usual crowds and bustle of the city all about her, she stood upon a wide country thoroughfare with a great sign posted, as if for her convenience. Her smile bloomed in full as she dropped her skirts and proceeded down the Road at a far more leisurely pace, well beyond the reach of anyone who might think to impede her, save the dangers and traps that lurked ahead, but what was that compared to the intrigue of the court!

"Did you finish?" asked Bayard, after the tale was told.

"The journey, certainly!" laughed she, "Did not you?"

"The Road finished us," smiled the former Prince wryly, but added with a knowing twinkle in his eye, "so that was my father's business in the next realm over!"

"You?!" said she with a laugh, bright as morning, "It seems your character is not as dreadful as I had feared, but then the union could never have been, as, well you're..."

"Dead?" persisted that irksome Prince, "Come milady, there is no use being awkward upon such a topic as we are well beyond it; we need not dance around it, unwilling even to speak the word, as is the wont of mortal men. To us, it is but a door into greater things."

She was about to protest that she had never suffered such an end herself, but a familiar voice drew all their attention, as the Captain himself strode up, nodding cordially in acceptance of their instinctive salutes. Said he brightly, addressing his newest recruit, "it matters not milady, in this service, we're all considered dead by mortal standards, but that only means we've entered into true Life, whether we completed the Road or not, whether we've physically died or not, is of no matter at all. Welcome Home!"

They gained their feet and left their sunny perch to its own timeless musings, joining their Captain and newest comrades on the near bank. Introductions were shared all around, before Garren again addressed the lady, "now what of your dilemma, my dear?"

She shook her head grimly, "I fear either my father or the King of yon Prince's realm will declare war on the other since their marriage treaty cannot be fulfilled."

Garren glanced at Ithril curiously, "I thought your father had disowned you?"

"Only after his return," said the former Prince, "my betrothed's realm cannot have heard of it yet."

The Captain then addressed the lady, "will your father prove hasty in this matter?"

She frowned slightly, "if the fault in the matter lay with me, and thus himself, no he would be most eager to prevent such a conflict, but if it can be laid at the feet of the other King, especially when I have imperiled his reputation and Kingdom with my own lack of foresight, then he may swiftly precipitate a war just to save face."

Kipril shook his head in wonder, "that all seems rather convoluted and ridiculous!"

"Welcome to court intrigue, lad," said Garren dryly. Addressing the lady, he said gravely, "then you'd best return home with none the wiser that you ever fled." Eyeing Ithril thoughtfully, he added, "and perhaps you had best journey hence and find some tragic way out of this aptly named ridiculous affair."

"Dying tragically is what I do best," grinned that erstwhile son of royalty.

"Everyone should have a hobby," quipped the Captain, eyeing each and every one of them, "I believe all of you have something to be about?" They exchanged an intrigued glance, their horses appeared in a flutter of bright wings, and suddenly the brook was left to itself, as was ever its wont, indifferent to the haste and bustle of the lifeforms about it, content in and of itself.

The Darkling Wood

There is but one Path through the Darkling Wood, and even this mortals must tread with trepidation and dread, for naught but death and evil lurk in the shadows on either side, for here, even the shadows have teeth. It was a strange place, a blot upon the very face of creation, but one that could never be removed with axe and saw and the sweat of men, for it was no natural wood, rather it lay inexplicably adjacent to every Kingdom of men and out of it came horrors unimaginable to ravage, corrupt, and destroy all that was good and beautiful. But still, there was the Path, which would lead a pilgrim safely through that terrible wilderness into lands upon which mortal stars yet shine; where it had come from or who had built it, was lost to the knowledge of men, but it was the only light in that dark place and the means by which much trade and communication flowed between the realms of men, for those who trod upon it were safe from the horrors that lurked on either side, as long as they did not step from the Path. Woe betide anyone who dared do anything so foolish!

In those days there was a certain Kingdom that was possessed of two Princes, young men of skill and valor, courage and wit, and as princes go, they were fair to look upon as well, not that it matters to this story, but it was of the utmost import to many a comely maiden that hoped one day to win their affection. And one day, the younger of the two decided to explore that horrid wood, for he had grown bored with all his prosperous and peaceful homeland had to offer and thought he might well find excitement within the shadows of that cursed forest. He did not find excitement, rather it found him, and at first he was not so sure that was such a very good thing, but as the hideous apparition unveiled its plan, he could not help but smile. Now this would be an adventure indeed! He could not wait to surprise his older brother, for he loved nothing more than playing tricks on the Crown Prince, who would only shake his head and smile ruefully, perhaps rolling his eyes at the playful hijinks of his younger sibling.

He stepped out of the shadows of that wood, one of the few mortal men ever to do so unchanged, but he did not go alone. His horse was uneasy in the shadow of those trees so the young prince had left him tied some distance from the disturbing forest, but as he approached the animal, it shied back from him, tossing its head and snorting in terror. The boy frowned, wondering what had so unnerved his horse, the fool beast probably scented some remaining odor of the wood. With a sigh, he did his best to calm the fractious animal, but the gelding would not be comforted; he pulled free and galloped back towards his stall with all the speed he possessed. The boy stared after, dumbfounded, wondering what had gotten into the usually unflappable creature. With a shrug, he began the long walk home, hoping he could make it before dark. He smiled at this and mused that Bayard was in for the surprise of his life! This thought amused him all the way home and likewise quickened his pace.

He was welcomed home with no little relief and much ribbing, at least from those of high enough rank to tease so esteemed a personage as a prince of the realm, at having lost his horse and having to walk home. He smiled good-naturedly at his well-wishers and slipped away from their laughing eyes and many questions as soon as he could, begging fatigue, which was not far from the truth after his rather intriguing interview and unanticipated walk. Most everyone was still at the evening meal or attending to chores related thereunto, which allowed the boy to creep into his brother's chambers unobserved, that he might prepare for what should be a marvelous joke.

"Who is there?" came the surprised voice.

"It's just me," said the prince, Brin by name, "sorry to disturb you, I thought these chambers abandoned at this hour."

"I probably don't count as company," came the wry answer from the smiling Kipril, the elder prince's friend, confidant, and retainer, "up to your usual capers, Sire?"

The boy smiled, "why else would I be skulking about in my brother's chambers? You won't tell him will you?"

Kipril laughed, "certainly not, no one loves discomfiting your brother more than I, though I have not the boldness or rank to do it with such impunity as you enjoy. Can I help?"

The prince frowned, "I am not really sure, things are a little different this time. I am not sure he would like it."

It was Kipril's turn to frown, "he?"

The boy looked sheepish and very guilty, "I strayed into the Darkling Wood this morning, not far from the Path mind you." As Kipril grimaced in horror, the boy continued, "nothing happened, really, everything is fine. I met a rather ghastly looking character, but he only looks horrid, he is really quite the gentleman; one can't help his appearance you know."

Kipril had backed as far as he could against the wall and was staring at the boy aghast, "did you bring anything or anyone out of the Wood with you?"

The boy nodded eagerly, frowning slightly at his companion's obvious over-reaction, "it is the whole foundation of my little scheme. Come, why are you so distraught, this will be the best trick ever!"

Kipril shook his head and fingered his sword uneasily, "just what did you discuss with this fiend and what is it you brought out of that accursed place?"

The boy drew a small box forth from some hidden pocket and said, "it was all his idea, he said I need only open the lid and my brother would be quite astonished."

"I'm sure he will be," said Kipril anxiously, "but not in the way you intend."

Brin frowned, "you truly think something bad will happen?"

Kipril said in astonishment, "I know something terrible will happen! Think you that all the tales surrounding that vile forest are mere gossip? Nothing of good can come out of it! This will be no mere prank, Sire, it may well be the end of us all, if not the Kingdom!" His frown deepened, "did you promise this fiend anything in exchange for his so-called help?"

Brin studied his boots for a very long time, but as no answer seemed forthcoming from his footwear, he looked up anxiously and said, "I promised I'd go back and tell him how matters played out." Protested he, "it seemed innocent enough at the time!" He swallowed hard, "I don't have to really go back, do I?" He looked at the box in his hand, "what do I do with this?"

The prince glanced longingly at the fire, but Kipril shook his head, "don't even think about it, whatever is in that box will only be loosed if we destroy its prison."

The boy shuddered, "my horse!" At Kipril's questioning look, the boy continued, "he spooked when I approached, he must have sensed whatever is in this box. We must destroy it!"

"No," said Kipril adamantly, "we'll take it back to the Path and toss it into the Wood; we dare not destroy or open it here, not knowing what lies within." He continued uneasily, "I think it best if you stay here, especially with such a promise looming over you; we can't risk you anywhere near that accursed forest!"

The boy shivered in relief and made to hand over the box, but suddenly his entire body erupted in an agony of pain, as if lightning coursed through his entire being. He crumpled to the floor in a writhing heap and dropped the box; the lid was dislodged as it hit the floor. Bayard stood in the doorway, frowning in consternation, wondering what his brother was up to this time. Kipril watched an inky snake slither out of the box and glide with blinding speed across the room, attaching itself to Bayard, whose own cries of agony and surprise joined those of his brother in a dreadful chorus.

Kipril ran to the side of his horrified friend, as the prince gasped, "what is it?"

Kipril shook his head grimly, "a denizen of the Darkling Wood! Brin thought it a brilliant joke, little imagining it could turn out like this."

The intense initial pain subsided to a minor throb, allowing Bayard to stand and limp to the nearest chair, in which he promptly collapsed and disconsolately studied the thing that had wrapped itself around his leg; it seemed to be growing larger by the moment. He exchanged a grim look with Kipril then turned to his brother, who lay panting on the carpet, tears streaming down his face. Sobbed the boy, horrified at his own foolishness and still dizzy from the pain, "I didn't mean any harm! I'm so sorry!"

"I know," said Bayard weakly, for whatever it was, seemed to be sapping his strength.

The boy stood and stumbled to his brother's side, grimacing in horror as he studied the shadowy serpent, which had by now doubled in size and sprouted arms and legs. He exchanged an uneasy look with Kipril and said aghast, "can we not do something?"

Kipril shook his head, "look what happened when you tried simply handing me the box!" The boy shuddered, as Kipril said heavily, "whatever mischief it intends to wreak, I fear there is nothing we can do to stop it."

Bayard's eyes were wide with horror, "I can't die! Not yet, not like this!"

Brin's eyes went wide, "no! It can't be! I didn't intend for any of this to happen; it was just a joke!"

Kipril said quietly to his friend, "are you sure? Perhaps it is a curse that will but sap your strength until we can find a way to reverse it?"

Bayard shook his head and held up a hand, the others gasped, for they could see right through it. Said the prince resignedly, "there is no time; this thing, whatever it is, is absorbing my very being." They looked again upon the horrid serpent, which was now the size of a large dog, its vestigial limbs looking each moment more and more substantial. Bayard turned plaintive eyes upon his little brother, "you can't go back to that awful forest, promise me."

Brin shook his head, "I don't have any choice; it was part of the bargain I struck. If I don't, worse will come of it."

Kipril met his friend's desperate gaze and nodded firmly at the unspoken plea therein, agreeing to accompany the boy at least, whatever betide. Bayard slumped forward, now barely visible, and with a last sigh, he vanished utterly. Brin collapsed into a sobbing heap, uttering barely audible murmurs of, "what have I done?" But Kipril, though horrified, had eyes only for the former serpent, which sat up and smiled malevolently at the two survivors, though Brin was too lost in his own misery to notice.

The shadowy creature had a vaguely serpentine cast to it, though human in shape, but was only half the size of an average man; its eyes sparkled with cunning and malice as it looked hungrily at Kipril, hissed he, "that was a delightful appetizer, but now for the main course."

"No!" came Brin's horrified gasp, "None of this was what I intended!"

"Hush you mindless puppy," snarled the viperish creature, "your fate won't be half so pleasant! Who cares what you intended? You are a mere tool, to be used and cast aside." His eyes sparkled in malicious glee, "once I finish with your friend here, I'll see that you keep your part of the bargain and return to the Wood, then I'll come back and do as I like with your entire Kingdom!" His features suddenly shifted into a mocking echo of Bayard's, as he hissed in pleasure, "but I need to feed again before I can make a proper job of it." He lunged at Kipril, who tried to dodge, but the creature was far stronger and faster than any mortal man. It latched onto the boy's neck with ease, his victim thrashed and fought for a moment, but then lay still before disappearing utterly.

When he raised his ghastly smiling face, it was the spitting image of the late prince. "What do you think, little brother?" scoffed the serpent, "None will be the wiser! But first, you have a promise to keep."

Defiance burned for a moment in the boy's eyes, but he knew he had no choice. With a heavy sigh, he resigned himself to his own doom and followed the mockery of his brother out of the room and down to the stables, only to discover no horse would carry either of them. So it was they set out afoot for that awful wood once more, Brin overwrought with guilt, horror, and grief; the monster scoffing in horrible triumph. Dawn was just pearling the east when they came to the edge of that accursed forest.

The fiend mocked, "after you, Highness!"

Brin sighed again, at least whatever was to come, it would put an end to the agony roiling in his heart at what he had done to his brother and Kipril, and likely all the Kingdom besides. He was a fool indeed! If only there was a way to defeat this monster, to restrain him to the woods, to protect the Kingdom! His thoughts were cut short as the monster shoved him into the shadow of the trees and the perpetual gloom of that haunted wood. He turned on the snake and begged, "is there no way to reverse this curse? To keep you from destroying the Kingdom?"

Mocked the serpent, "ah, poor little prince, there is nothing to be done but despair," his cruel smile deepened, "and then die."

"No!" said the boy fervently, "There must be a way!"

"Oh," came a new and sinister voice, "there is a way, but it will cost you everything."

Brin shuddered as he turned to face the hideous fiend of his former acquaintance, quavered he, "I would pay any price, but not to you or yours! My foolishness has cost others much and it will not be so again."

The fiend shrugged, "have it your way, little prince, it matters not; we have accomplished what we intended and have no more use for you. I only thought you'd like a share in what is to come?"

"I have done enough harm," said the boy sadly, "do what you must."

The snake and the fiend exchanged an eager, but unpleasant, smile before setting upon the boy. Only too late, did they notice the glowing mist that crept out of the gloom and consumed them utterly. They vanished with an indignant squawk, leaving their mauled victim gasping in agony, wishing whatever it was had waited a moment longer before dispatching the villains, that they might have finished what they had begun.

"Easy lad," came the gentle words, as a firm, slightly radiant hand touched Brin's chest. The pain vanished and his breathing eased immediately; the boy gasped in wonder and eagerly took the proffered hand, gaining his feet and squinting into the shrouding mist, trying to catch a glimpse of his rescuer. He could see nothing but mist in every direction. He studied his own person, and jumped in surprise, for parts of him seemed wrought of the luminous brume about him, wavering and shifting as the mist swirled about him. The same kind voice chuckled, "there wasn't enough of you to piece back together so I had to improvise. Come."

The boy shivered at the uncanniness of the situation, but followed hesitantly in the direction from which the voice came, the mist receding slightly as he progressed, opening a path before him, but thick and opaque on either side, never did he catch a glimpse of his companion, save his hand at the first. The path ended on the edge of a small river with a few bold stars bright overhead, but otherwise all detail was lost in the swirling mists. A great unicorn stood on the far bank and one look into the glorious depths of those fathomless eyes drove Brin to his knees with a sob, his heart breaking with all his foolishness had wrought.

"Peace child," came the quiet voice of the magnificent creature, suddenly at the boy's side, nuzzling him gently, "this day has not been easy for you, but it is not beyond salvage nor as hopeless as you imagine it to be."

The boy looked up in wonder, for what that Voice said, Was. When He commanded Peace, Peace prevailed. Whispered the boy, "my brother, Kipril?"

"Dead," said the Unicorn quietly.

"Can I not do something?!" gasped the desperate boy.

The Unicorn snorted in amusement, "and what is it you would do, child? Can you raise the dead? You are hardly in a better state yourself."

The boy studied himself again, chagrined at this reminder of his own dire predicament. He bowed his head and sighed, "I can do naught, even for myself."

"But," said the creature, radiant as all the gathered stars of heaven, "that does not mean I am powerless." He eyed the boy significantly, "will you utterly surrender yourself to My will, and trust Me to do what I must with you?"

The boy looked up, terror and joy competing for primacy in his eyes, said he in a barely audible whisper, "yes!" Then everything was light and life and joy.

The boy awoke, or at least he thought he was awake, but he didn't seem to have any physical form to be in that particular condition. All around him there was nothing but that odd, glowing mist. He sighed in wonder, trying to wrap his mind around the things he had experienced after his affirmative answer, but they were too wonderful to describe. With another sigh, he turned his attention back to his current predicament. How did one sigh without a body to do so? Obviously whatever this new existence, he had much to learn. Then he remembered his patchwork body after his encounter with those fiends, half mist and half flesh and bone. He concentrated for a moment and suddenly the mist immediately about him began to thicken and glow more brightly. Soon it had wrapped itself into a form vaguely human. He smiled in amusement, causing his concentration to slip, and his handiwork to evaporate like the mist it was.

After several more attempts, he finally mastered the technique and stood once more within that odd mist, more or less solid. He glanced about eagerly, wondering what next was to be done, only to stumble over something almost directly beneath his feet. He gasped to see his brother lying insensible before him. As he knelt beside the inert Bayard and sought a pulse, a light flared between them and suddenly the crown prince drew a deep breath and then another. Brin easily lifted the unconscious form and proceeded deeper into the mist, gaping in wonder as it suddenly thinned about them and revealed his brother's chambers, as they had looked the previous night, if it was still the previous night. He laid his sleeping brother on the sofa and shook his head in awe, eager to see what other wonders the rising day would reveal.

He studied himself once more, just to be sure there was nothing to betray his uncanny nature. He glanced in a nearby mirror and smiled to see his own reflection therein. Perhaps life could just go back to normal after this minor fiasco.

He must have spoken this last aloud, for Kipril's voice suddenly answered, "I fear that cannot be."

Brin turned suddenly to face his brother's dearest friend and longtime companion, anxious as he had not been since the Unicorn declared Peace upon that wondrous shore. Seeing the boy's discomfiture, Kipril smiled warmly and said, "easy lad, the past is past. What our Master has forgiven and forgotten, we have no right to dredge up and hold against one another."

The boy nearly glowed in relief and joy, or so he thought, until Kipril chuckled, "you'll have to learn to control yourself better than that if you are to succeed in this service."

Brin studied himself in wonder and chagrin, for his whole being was alight from within. Unsure what exactly he did, he schooled his form back to some semblance of normality, and sheepishly asked, "what has happened? What is to come?"

Kipril paced the far side of the room, occasionally glancing out the window upon the rising day, he took a deep breath and said, "you wanted to surprise your brother, well this is your big chance." Brin frowned in confusion as Kipril continued, "he will waken, none the wiser, that any of this has happened."

Brin said in relief, "he can go on with his life then? I have not utterly ruined everything?"

Kipril glanced sadly at his sleeping friend, but an eager joy also sparkled in his gaze as he met the boy's eyes, "nay lad, what's done is done. He is like us, but will be unaware of it, at least for a time. There is some little quest we must accomplish here before moving on to other business. As far as he is concerned, it was all just a horrid dream."

Brin shook his head, "but I cost you both your lives and very nearly destroyed the Kingdom in process!"

Kipril smiled wryly, "what did I say about the past? Besides, what has mortal life to compare to this?"

Brin's eyes narrowed, "what do you mean? I hardly know what 'this' is!"

Kipril laughed, "I forget you sort of came in the backdoor, as it were. You weren't quite dead when our Master intervened. The main thing is that He asked and you answered His call, though you didn't quite know all the details at the time, and still don't it seems. We're the answer to all those dreadful things that lurk in the Wood and our business is to see that they stay there. We, and those like us, ward the mortal world from the unearthly evils that would otherwise destroy it."

Brin sat heavily in a nearby chair, "why was no such rescue sent to spare you and my brother from my foolishness?"

Kipril shook his head, "you had made your decision and it is not our place to interfere in mortal choices. Had the creatures simply abandoned the Wood and come stalking the Prince, rescue would have undoubtedly come, but instead they tricked you into doing it for them, for we cannot interfere directly in mortal affairs; they must live with the consequences of their actions."

Brin nodded glumly, but looked up with a frown, "then why did I find rescue at the last?"

Kipril smiled broadly, "you had learned your lesson and proved your fidelity to the end, I suppose our Master saw no reason to prolong your suffering and no doubt wanted to teach those fiends a lesson, that and spare the Kingdom."

Brin smiled ruefully, "it seems I have much to learn about all of this." He looked sadly upon his sleeping brother, "I suppose this means he can never claim the crown, fall in love, or have what we used to call a 'normal' life?"

"No," said Kipril, "but that is not to say this new life of ours does not have its own rewards. You can always Go, you know?"

Brin snorted, "I know absolutely nothing about any of this, my friend!"

Kipril smiled, "then it is a very good thing I am here to enlighten you. You don't need to hang about the mortal sphere any longer than you wish, you can simply vanish into Eternity when you tire of it all."

The boy's eyes glowed in remembrance of things barely seen, knowing something wonderful waited Beyond, but then his jaw clenched in determination, "someday perhaps, but first we have things to accomplish here." Kipril's smile was joy itself, but their hands darted for their sword hilts as the chamber door slowly opened. They relaxed and exchanged a sheepish grin, as a servant in the castle's livery entered with a stack of folded sheets, but instead of proceeding to the bedchamber and going about his business, the fellow set down his burden on a divan and boldly studied the other occupants of the chamber. Kipril's hand strayed back to his sword at the man's uncharacteristic behavior.

"Easy lad," said the intruder with a grin, "while caution can be a good thing, too much will not avail anyone."

Upon recognizing the voice, Brin smiled in relief, "it was you!"

The man nodded, "well met lad, and I must say, you are certainly in better straits than upon our last meeting, such as it was."

Kipril wore a quizzical frown at this cryptic exchange, but his hand had moved away from his sword hilt; the man evenly met his gaze and smiled, "I suppose I had best introduce myself." He bowed politely and said, "I am Garren, Captain of the Master's Messengers." The neophyte Messengers gaped for a moment, but the next they had snapped to attention and offered their captain a very smart salute. He smiled in vast amusement at the pair, but let them stand stiff and straight for a moment longer, before saying, "you need not be so formal lads, especially whilst we are undercover in the mortal world." They exchanged another sheepish grin as they relaxed, then focused attentively on the captain, who studied the insensible prince with a thoughtful smile, "this will certainly be an interesting assignment."

He turned to his minions and smiled, "though I suppose the pair of you hardly knows what it is you have begun?" Brin nodded and Kipril smiled wryly, as he continued, "that is why I have also been assigned to this venture, though it is quite unheard of for so many of us to be found together in one place; it must be a vital quest indeed. What can you tell me of matters thus far?"

Brin swallowed hard, but managed to tell the tale, though his voice quavered in places as he recounted the entire dreadful story. He was much relieved when the captain nodded grimly, but did not seem intent on calling out the boy on his foolishness. He actually smiled at the late prince and said quietly, "we all make mistakes lad, but thankfully our Master's grace fully exceeds the worst of our folly, but I think you have learned your lesson well about accepting the seeming gifts of such nefarious folk without question." Growing more serious and addressing them both, he continued, "it seems the Enemy still intends to bring this Kingdom to its knees, if not destroy it utterly. He has succeeded in leaving it bereft of an heir, at least for the moment. We'll have to discover what next he intends, now that his first attempt has failed. Resume your previous roles, as if nothing has happened, and I'll find a place to blend in myself. When he moves, we'll be ready to counter him."

Kipril studied his sleeping friend, "why will Bayard be ignorant of all that has happened?"

The captain shook his head, "that I know not, but it is a needful thing if our Master has asked it of him." He studied the three of them anew and shook his head, an eager smile on his face, "this will certainly be an adventure."

Garren shared a conspiratorial grin with his companions, took up his sheets, and hastened out of the room as the late prince began to stir. Bayard sat up, blinked blearily, glanced out the window at the burgeoning day, looked down at the sofa in perplexity, and then his gaze settled on his friend and his brother, said he with a great yawn and a stretch, "why am I on the sofa? And what are you two doing in here watching me sleep? I've had the strangest dreams, but thankfully only that." He gazed at them expectantly, though they seemed for a moment lost for words.

At last Kipril said with a slight smile, "it was quite a night Sire, certainly. You were so overwrought you settled on the sofa, which is where you wakened this morning. We could not in good conscious leave you alone in such a state, so here too are we."

Bayard shook his head, as if to clear it, but smiled gratefully at his friends, "did I take suddenly ill? I don't remember much of last evening after returning from dinner."

Brin nodded, "it was quite sudden indeed, but it seems matters have resolved themselves, more or less. It is good to see you hale and whole once more."

Bayard snorted in amusement, "it is not as if I was in any danger of my life, Brin. But I am glad to know you care." His countenance suddenly grew grave as he looked grimly at his brother, "and don't you ever dare go into the Darkling Wood and stray from the Path!"

Brin smiled sheepishly, "that would be unwise indeed!"

Bayard nodded, "very well, though what inspired such a bizarre dream, I cannot imagine. Perhaps I should hereafter avoid shellfish at the evening meal." He stood and began his preparations for the day, eyeing his companions strangely as he went about his morning routine, remarked he, "are you both just going to hang about my bedchambers all day? Have you nothing else to do?"

Brin smiled, "after last night's scare, I thought it might be agreeable to spend some time together today, brother."

Bayard smiled slightly, "we see one another everyday and do many thing together, Brin, do you truly feel neglected? But if that is how you feel, I certainly am not averse to the idea." He glanced eagerly out the window at the beautiful day unfurling its splendor without, continued he, "how about a ride in the woods?"

Brin paled slightly at mention of 'woods,' but then he realized there were many forests in the world and not all were cursed, relaxing significantly he sighed, "that would be quite agreeable on such a fine day." He glanced at Kipril, who nodded his eager agreement.

Bayard laughed, "then it is settled, though I suppose one or the other of you two nursemaids ought to go down to the kitchens and see what you can find us by way of a picnic lunch."

Kipril bowed himself from the Prince's quarters, flashing an amused grin at all and sundry before he vanished out the door. He returned some time later as Bayard finished his preparations, saying, "all is ready Sire, we wait only upon you."

Bayard smiled at his friend, "I am not quite the laggard you take me for, though I am apparently just risen from a sickbed. Have mercy man!" They left the room and meandered down to the stableyard where their horses waited, tossing their heads and stamping their feet, as impatient as their riders to be off upon such a fair morning. They were quickly in their saddles and wending their way through the crowded streets of the city, eager to reach the open country beyond the city walls. As they exited the city gates, two guardsmen in the King's livery came trotting quickly after the prince and his companions.

Bayard drew rein and patiently awaited their arrival, a look of long suffering on his face. Said the prince to the most senior of the pair, "may I help you gentlemen?"

The lieutenant looked nervously at his horse's withers, glanced anxiously at his unfazed companion, and then addressed the prince, "we are to accompany you, Sire."

Bayard shook his head adamantly, "my father's orders, I suppose?"

"Yes, Sire," said the uneasy guard, "I am afraid so."

Bayard smiled ruefully at his father's edict, for every so often the King decided that whenever a Royal personage left the city proper he or she must do so only with a proper escort; usually his sons managed to talk him out of it within a fortnight or so, only to have him recant a month or two later and then they must begin their persuasions anew. Bayard sighed, "very well, lieutenant, do as you must, for I cannot gainsay my father. Who is your companion, a new man with the guard?"

The lieutenant sighed in relief, and nodded eagerly, "aye Highness, he just joined up this morning. I thought this would be just the assignment for him: a nice easy ride through the country."

A stubborn light suddenly burned in the young prince's eyes as he said, "an easy ride, eh? We shall see about that." He spitted the new man with a challenging smile, "I hope you are an accomplished horseman, sir. Welcome to the guard!" With that, he reined his horse around sharply and dug in his heels; the beast took off with a surprised snort and vanished quickly over a nearby hill, Kipril and Brin close behind him, well used to the prince's idiosyncrasies. The two guards exchanged a momentary look of surprise as the dust began to settle around them, but then directed their own mounts after the fled prince.

It took them nearly a league to catch his Highness and they managed that only when the boy and his companions had settled into a fast trot. As they galloped up to the errant prince, the boy chuckled, "welcome back gentlemen, it seems at least you know how to ride." They exchanged a wry grin and then fell into line at the back of the party, allowing the prince and his friends a bit of freedom and privacy, but still abiding by the King's orders. As the sun reached its midday peak and the day grew warm, happily did the little party enter the welcoming shadows of the greenwood and alight beside a little creek, merry in its bed. Kipril broke out their provisions as the horses idly cropped the grass on the brookside and the guards warily scanned the underbrush for ambushers and scalawags, though only a wren and a chipmunk lurked therein.

As they regained their saddles, the lieutenant asked anxiously of the prince, "whither are we bound Sire?"

Bayard frowned at the man's unease, "whatever is the matter, man? I thought we'd ride a bit through this pleasant little wood and then return to the palace ere nightfall."

The guard shivered, "I've just heard tales, Sire, boundless rumors no doubt, that the Darkwood has of late been acting strangely, suddenly appearing in places it was never wont to be, especially in wooded areas, trapping folk that otherwise would not be foolish enough to venture thither."

Kipril noticed the second guardsman frowning thoughtfully at this, but the prince only shrugged and urged his horse forward, saying, "I will not curb my ride for such unsubstantiated gossip, lieutenant." That challenging light glowed anew in his eyes, "perhaps we shall be able to verify them, if true. It would be vital news for my father. Come!" He reined his horse around and the party set off. Kipril and Brin exchanged a thoughtful look behind the prince's back; the anxious lieutenant and his frowning underling followed closely after.

The afternoon passed pleasantly enough that even the lieutenant began to relax, thinking perhaps the rumors were just that, but as they turned their horses' heads homewards, the world shifted around them and the spring wood, golden green in the late afternoon light, was suddenly dark and dank around them. Their horses screamed in terror and left them unceremoniously seated on the forest floor. The prince was heard to murmur, "rumors indeed!" as they picked themselves up.

The lieutenant was near to panic, but Kipril set a firm hand on his shoulder, "easy man, we'll get through this." The man stared at him as if he were mad, at which Kipril could only smile wryly. He glanced at the second guard, who did not seem at all frightened, which meant the man thought he had nothing to fear in this grim wood, which meant the neophyte soldier must be the disguised Captain of the Messengers. The man caught Kipril's eye and smiled knowingly. Kipril glanced at Brin, knowing his last excursion into this place had not ended well, but the boy only smiled grimly at him as he continued to scan their surroundings for enemies.

Bayard caught his brother's eye and smiled ruefully, "it seems I should have taken my own advice."

Kipril said grimly, "it is not as if you sought it out, Highness."

"I am not so sure," said Bayard with a frown, "some part of me wanted to confirm the rumors, if true. Could that have drawn this place to me or me to it?"

"That is an intriguing idea, Highness," said the second guardsman, "but who knows anything for certain of this Cursed Wood?"

Kipril said quietly to Bayard, "perhaps the lieutenant should stay to the middle of the party, as he is nearly beside himself with terror?" Bayard nodded minutely and shifted his position so that the unprotesting man soon found himself in the center of the group.

Bayard said for all to hear, "we had best find the Path, at least if we are ever to find our way out of this cursed place." They nodded their agreement and allowed him to choose whither they went, for in that place, one direction was as good as another. A dark mist swirled about their feet and malicious eyes watched them from the shadows overhead; a cold wind moaned like a lost soul in the rotten hearts of the trees as the boughs creaked eerily in its passing, but strangely, only the lieutenant found himself terrified to near insensibility, but then, he was the only mortal man in the odd little company; the rest had passed beyond fear of such terrors, whether they knew it or not.

Kipril asked quietly of the second guardsman as they trudged along, "what have we to do with this place? You seemed quite surprised to hear of its sudden shifting from place to place, what do you think it portends? Do our enemies know the Prince is not as he seems?"

Brin listened in eagerly as the captain replied, the lieutenant was too terrified to notice anything more than the ground immediately beneath his boots and Bayard was preoccupied with finding the Path, as the Captain explained, "we can move with impunity within this accursed place, though we tend to avoid it unless we have some needful business within, such as rescuing some poor soul who finds himself in dire straits." He smiled knowingly at Brin, who momentarily studied his boots and grinned sheepishly, as Garren continued, "but this strange shifting is certainly a new phenomenon and perhaps the very reason for our current quest; it will certainly bear watching. As to the Prince, undoubtedly some of our enemies will know of his indisposition, but the servants of evil do not necessarily share information as freely as you might think, for they aspire to profit themselves by such intelligence, even to the detriment of their fellows and their plans."

All eyes were suddenly drawn forward as a sneering voice hissed, "ah, trespassers!"

The lieutenant groaned, as his eyes rolled up into his head and he fainted dead away in terror, while the others drew their swords and stared stonily at the horrifying vision before them. Bayard said grimly, "we can hardly be called trespassers when this wood imposed itself upon us rather than we upon it."

"It hardly matters," shrugged the horror, "you are lost within the Wood and shall certainly fall afoul of its curses, that is unless you wish to spare yourselves such unpleasantness? My master is generous indeed to those that come to him freely."

Bayard snorted in grim amusement, "I have but one Master, sir, and He has overcome your own. In life or death, I will serve Him still! Besides, we did not freely enter this place, thus we can yet hope for rescue unlooked for, at least so say the legends."

The thing mocked, "what are your legends but wishful thinking, if not outright lies! If your Master is so great, let him send rescue this very moment!"

Bayard set himself, "whether He sends rescue or not, content am I in His grace and love."

"Brave words, but foolish," sneered the apparition, "I shall send you to your thrice cursed master, since that seems to be your wish." He raised his hands, as if to cast some vile spell and the entire party braced themselves, but suddenly they found themselves shrouded in a dense mist and the creature howled forlornly like a wind over some lonely moor. When the mist thinned, Bayard found himself on a wide, grassy Path that meandered carelessly through the Wood though deep shadows lurked on either side.

Bayard glanced about himself in wonder and smiled joyously, "so are we rescued, gentlemen." But he was alone. Frowning in consternation, he sheathed his sword and set off down the Path, wondering where his companions had lost themselves and whither the Path would lead him.

At the precise moment when the vile mage was about to cast some distasteful hex upon the entire party, Kipril, Garren, and Brin felt themselves dissolving into a glowing mist that shrouded the prince and fainted lieutenant from whatever the sorcerer intended. The prince was immediately spirited away upon some other needful adventure while the insensible guard awoke to find himself safely in his own bed. With the danger past, the three resolved themselves again into a mortal guise as the warlock hissed, "you think to so easily spare your precious prince, you wretched ghosts? My master has plans indeed for that boy and his kingdom, but you must wait to see what shall come of the matter! Ward him well, it shall not be enough!" With a raucous laugh, he melted into a shadowy vapor that vanished into the ubiquitous dark mist that carpeted the forest floor. The three exchanged an amused and eager smile and melted themselves into mist and moonbeams, setting off upon the next leg of their adventure.

Bayard had not gone far when the sound of galloping hooves came echoing down that grassy way; he drew to the side of the Path and awaited the comer. The horse rounded the bend, frothed with sweat and breathing hard, his rider flinched to see another being upon that road and suddenly reined in his exhausted beast. Cried he in alarm, "what news friend? Tell me quickly for we both must fly lest all is lost!"

Bayard frowned, "why such haste?"

The young man gaped, "do you not know that a murderous fiend is upon my very heels, even my own brother!"

Bayard shook his head, smiling slightly, "then you do not know this Path well at all, sir, for two men may set out only moments apart from the same place yet will neither see the other and though it has no turnoffs or crossings, they will each reach a different destination. You are quite safe from those who pursue you."

The boy shook his head in consternation, seeming to find this revelation hard to believe, but as his horse could run no further he had no choice but to trust the eldritch words of this stranger and hope that they might be true. Said he as he dismounted, "how then did we meet upon this strange road?"

Bayard grinned, "I did not say none ever met upon this way, but all such meetings have their purpose. Now whither are you bound?"

The boy shrugged, "I thought perhaps to find refuge in the next Kingdom over, for my father is King and has many friends and allies there."

Bayard nodded, "a wise idea indeed, but what is to happen in your own Realm? Are you the Crown Prince?"

"No," said he, "that would be my murderous brother. Though assured the crown, he will stand no rival and seeks to supplement his inheritance by allying himself with the nefarious powers that lurk in the Wood on either side of this Path."

An unconscious shiver ran down Bayard's spine, remembering that all too real dream, said he, "perhaps I can be of service to your countrymen then?"

The boy gaped, "and who might you be sir? A warlock of the first order? A knight as fell as a warrior in the old tales? It will take as much to bring my brother and his dreadful allies to heel."

Bayard's smile became grim, "I am the crown prince of the neighboring realm, and though no more dangerous or cunning than the boy I seem, I know I must intercede on behalf of you and yours, else all is lost."

A wan smile of amazement grew on the boy's face, "then have at it sir, for none else can save us! Is there aught I can do for you?"

Bayard nodded, "tell my father whither I am bound, for all will think me lost in that dreadful wood."

The boy took up the reins of the weary horse and said, "that I will!" He disappeared around the bend, leading the exhausted beast. Bayard set off in the opposite direction, strangely eager for the adventure that lay before him, though he had no idea how he was to intercede, let alone triumph in the matter.

Soon enough, the Path opened upon a wide land of rolling hills and scattered copses, well tended and prosperous. He entered that merry land and continued upon his way, eager to reach the castle ere dark. By late afternoon, the city lay before him, radiant in the golden light of the dying day. Bayard easily entered the city, for the gates were open and all were free to come and go as it pleased them, but getting into the castle was another matter entirely, for none were admitted who did not have a very good reason to be there. He smiled wryly, wondering how he was to get in, Prince though he be, for he had no letter from his father or even raiment to proclaim his station, for he had dressed more for function than fashion for that ill-fated ride, what already seemed ages ago. He approached one of the guards, who had been studying him skeptically as he paced before the gates, muttering to himself, and decided to try asking, the worst the man could say was no.

Well, say no and then laugh in his face, which was precisely what happened. With a sigh, he turned away from the gate and wondered what to do next. Just then he was forced back against the walls as a mounted party returned from some strenuous errand, their horses frothed and stumbling in weariness. Bayard smiled grimly, for this must be the renegade prince! The gates opened to admit the weary party and Bayard saw his chance; he dove into the midst of the company, hoping to lose himself in the chaos. He got through the gates without being noticed and then slipped into the shadows unseen, or so he hoped, as men dismounted and servants came rushing to attend to the new arrivals.

He grinned impishly when no outcry of intruder was raised, but as he turned to move deeper into the shadows, he gaped openly, for there in the shadows with him stood a wide-eyed young woman, a lady of high rank by her dress, who was as astonished at his presence as he at hers. He smiled sheepishly and gave her a bow of the appropriate degree, which snapped her out of her surprise and brought a frown of consternation to her face even as she returned a minimal curtsy, which caused Bayard to laugh outright, or he would have had he not been afraid of betraying his presence to the others present in the courtyard. Here he had bowed as befitted the Crown Prince to a noble lady of the court, no doubt offending the girl, for she had no idea who he was. But she was not slow of wit nor lacking in humor herself, for she saw the amusement in his eyes and a slight smile curved one corner of her mouth.

Said she quietly, "I suppose there is some wild and intriguing story behind all this, sir? And I shall be excessively disappointed to miss it, but we must find somewhere more suitable for the telling thereof." She offered him her arm, which he took automatically though his wonder seemed to amuse her all the more, and she led him to a small side door by which they entered the castle and then secreted themselves in a small sitting room. "Now," said she, turning with a grin, the door at her back, "we shan't be disturbed in here."

Bayard gaped, "why would you lock yourself in a room with a complete stranger, my lady, especially one whom you saw sneak into your own castle only a few moments prior?"

Her face fell at this reminder of her brother's return and she said with barely contained tears, "you intrigue me sir, your behavior and person convince me that you can mean no harm to me or mine, rather I hope you have some word of my fled brother's fate?"

There was such a look of hope and pleading in her eyes that Bayard was nigh unto tears himself, said he, a lump in his throat, "you are correct madam, for I have come solely for the purpose of aiding your imperiled Kingdom. I met your brother as he fled along the Path, he escaped the Crown Prince's wrath and will seek refuge in my father's Kingdom until this matter is settled."

"Your father!" said she with a knowing smile, "No wonder you greeted me as an equal!"

Bayard grinned wryly, "it was unconsciously done madam, I assure you, but as you can see, no slight was meant or given. I am the Crown Prince after all and you a Princess, so we are equals at that. Now what can you tell me of how matters stand within your own Kingdom and household?"

She sighed heavily, but much relieved that her brother was safe and that this odd hero had miraculously appeared to rescue them, said she, "my father is King only in name, for his mind and body are failing of late, so my eldest brother rules in his stead. I know he is looking to use me for some grand political match while he meant to do far worse with my next eldest brother, in hopes of allying himself with the powerful denizens of that horrid Wood. Can you help us sir?"

Bayard shook his head, "I hope so madam, I feel driven to do just that, but I have no idea how to accomplish it. Would it not be best for you to flee the realm as your brother has done, before things grow dangerous or you are forced into a reprehensible marriage?"

She shook her head grimly, "nay sir, for then my father and our people would be undefended and my absence would draw unwanted attention to your own scheming. I will introduce you around court, if that is your wish, and then you may move against my brother when and how you deem appropriate." She sighed heavily, "you must know this will be extremely dangerous, sir."

Bayard said grimly, "aye madam, but no more dangerous than having such a fiend upon the throne of the nation that is my father's greatest ally!"

It was decided that they must begin immediately, ere the boy's presence was discovered prematurely and matters took a turn for the worse. She procured him clothes more befitting a royal personage about the court, leant him a horse from the stables, and snuck him out a little used side gate. He presented himself immediately at the main gate in this guise, where she was waiting eagerly and demanded that the guards admit him at once. They were skeptical of his royal heritage but could not gainsay the princess, thus was the boy allowed to officially enter the keep. She then dutifully introduced him to all the esteemed personages within the castle at the evening meal, excepting only her father and remaining brother, the former ill and abed, the latter undoubtedly hidden away somewhere plotting how to further his grab for power.

However, it was not long before word reached his ear of this curious visitor and he immediately appeared to make his own appraisal thereof. He was not pleased to see his sister's overt fondness for the supposed Prince, especially so soon after meeting; he had other plans for her, but he could not dispute that the man carried himself and spoke like one of royal birth and his accent was certainly that of the neighboring realm. Now how to use the fellow to advance his own plots? The resulting smile boded ill for Bayard, but he held his tongue, save for some insipid pleasantries and to invite the foreign prince on a hunting foray the following day, an invitation which was gladly accepted, though Bayard knew the morrow's caper had absolutely nothing to do with the pursuit of game.

The evening passed pleasantly enough, except Bayard couldn't quite figure out how to rescue the Kingdom and save the Princess, or why he wasn't madly in love with the charming girl, perhaps he just needed more time? Or maybe the stories were not quite accurate in their portrayal of such situations? He went to his assigned quarters and spent most of the night thinking, for sleep would not come. The next morning he rose early, donned apparel suitable for the day, namely the clothes he had arrived in, and hastened down to the stableyard, eager to see what the day would reveal. His companions arrived shortly thereafter and soon enough they were in their saddles, hastening towards the nearest forest.

They had barely entered the young wood when all of Bayard's companions, save the prince himself, drew back in fear, their horses tossing their heads and whinnying in terror. Bayard found himself summarily unhorsed by his terrified beast while the prince, seemingly having anticipated the circumstances, had already dismounted, though his horse fled with Bayard's and all the rest. Bayard rolled to his feet and glanced about, unsurprised to find himself again in the Darkling Wood, though thankfully it was only himself and the other prince, their companions were nowhere to be seen. He evenly met the other boy's gaze, his lack of fear or surprise seemed to disappoint the other prince, who said harshly, "this way."

Bayard followed without comment or question as the prince led him into a moldering ruin, said the boy at last, "I was rather dismayed when my cowardly brother escaped yesterday, but it seems I am not without options. I promised royal blood to certain individuals in exchange for certain advantages and so shall I fulfill my part of the bargain. What say you to that, Sire?"

Bayard could only shake his head, "that it is foolish for mortal men to have dealings with such power or to willfully enter this Wood." He frowned, "how is it you made it appear so fortuitously?"

The boy shook his head, "it was none of my doing, those with whom I have dealings undoubtedly know what I intend and arranged matters accordingly. On your knees!"

Bayard eyed him stonily but remained standing, "I will not die like a supplicant before your vile masters."

The boy shrugged, "very well," as he ran the foreign prince through where he stood. Bayard grimaced slightly in discomfort and then both stared in wonder as nothing else happened; when the prince withdrew his sword, there was nary a drop of blood upon it. The prince stared at the apparition before him, "who or what are you!"

Bayard's eyes were as wide as those of his stymied companion, "I have no idea! I spoke truly when I said I am the Crown Prince of Itharia, but I have no explanation as to what just happened."

"Fool!" came a fell voice on the wind, "You promised us blood, royal blood, but have brought us nothing! We shall take yours instead! We have done much for you, wretch, and this is the thanks we get? We will not be so ill used!" Darkness engulfed them both, Bayard heard the other prince shrieking in terror for a moment before utter silence filled that endless night. Bayard fell to his knees and prayed for salvation from that impenetrable nothing. Those horrid voices laughed him to scorn and seemed to threaten even worse than whatever it was that had befallen the other prince, when he felt he could not stand it a moment longer without going mad, he suddenly felt himself coming apart, perhaps the darkness had indeed unmade him.

He blinked, for there was light and feeling and sound about him once more. He shook his head to clear it and rolled to his knees, gazing about in wonder. A nearby sheep blinked stupidly at him before taking another mouthful of grass, and he felt he was never so glad to see another living creature in all his life. He stood shakily and tried to get his bearings, recognizing the wide meadowlands that bordered the forest whither their faux hunt was to have taken place. He set off for the city at once, eager to tell the princess all that had happened and wondering what yet must be done to save the Kingdom.

The princess was sitting anxiously in the courtyard as he approached the gates, joy itself burning in her eyes at his return. She chivied the guards to let him pass and then hastened him to a place where they might speak at leisure. Said she hopefully, "the others returned not long after your departure, utterly horrified and saying that evil forest had engulfed you both; your horses returned with them, riderless. What has happened?"

Bayard told her briefly of his encounter with the prince and the darkness, leaving out the strange details of his own failed murder, still unsure if it had even been real or what it meant if it was. Tears sprang to her eyes when she heard that her brother was undoubtedly undone, though it meant the Kingdom was likely free of imminent peril, it was still devastating to this great hearted lady to lose a sibling thus. Said she softly, "my father has improved significantly in just the last few hours; I wonder if it was some spell wrought by my brother's grim allies rather than a natural malady?" She smiled hopefully through her tears, "oh, that I might have my father back!"

Bayard smiled hopefully but asked seriously, "is there like to be a fuss made over your brother's disappearance, has he allies that will try to take the crown?"

She frowned thoughtfully, "he had a few who supported him openly, but most did so out of fear or coercion. My father will be joyously welcomed back to the throne, for my brother was no fit king and his evil allies unnerved even the boldest and most ruthless of men. But I fear for your own safety sir, since you were the last one seen in his company. If things go ill, it might even mean war between our countries!"

Bayard sighed heavily, "does your father know aught of your brother's treachery?"

She shook her head, "he has been bedridden and nearly insensible for months, knowing nothing of happenings in the castle or his own kingdom." She eyed him uneasily, "and my lost brother was his favorite, never able to do anything wrong in his eyes, hence his proud and defiant lust for power at any cost. You had best flee this very night if you love your life!"

"No," said Bayard quietly, "I will not bring war upon my father's Kingdom; no matter how unjust, my life is a small price to pay to prevent that."

"No!" gasped she, "It will not come to that, it can't!"

He shook his head, "it is only my unverified tale against all your father's prejudices and assumptions favoring his son and heir. Weep not for me lady, but rather that justice can yet be so fickle in this land. Is the King able to hear my tale?"

She sighed heavily but nodded, "he has been demanding my brother this last hour; we had best get this over with."

They withdrew to the king's sickroom, where he was sitting up in bed for the first time in months and grumpily demanding that both of his sons be presented before him that very moment. He was rather astonished to see his daughter and a boy claiming to be the heir of the neighboring Kingdom. The lady told her tale and Bayard added his own part in things. The King gaped in horror, then lapsed into despondent tears, only to be replaced by fury, declaring that it could not be true! He called his guards and pointed at the prince, "take this traitor out and hang him!"

The princess ran to her father and wept, "no Sire! Do not do this!"

The king snarled, "an eye for an eye lass, his father is lucky I don't declare war on them all! I am deprived of my heir and he will be deprived of his."

Bayard sighed heavily but did not fight as they dragged him away, the princess' weeping smote his heart and he wondered if the King would ever admit the truth of the matter. He smiled wryly, perhaps it would have been best if the darkness had indeed consumed him or the murderous prince had succeeded, it would have been a less ignominious end, but what would have come of both Kingdoms? His attention snapped back to the present moment as they placed the noose over his head. His eyes narrowed in consternation, for one of the men about him looked exactly like the neophyte guardsman that had accompanied him upon his ride a lifetime ago. As the man placed a black hood over the boy's head, he whispered, "easy lad, this is but the beginning." Then the platform fell out from beneath him and all was darkness.

Said Garren as they cut down the limp form, "I can see to the boy's mortal remains."

The grim captain shrugged, "he's all yours, though I doubt you'll get much out of the deal, his boots are passable but nothing out of the ordinary."

"Even so," said Garren, "it'll at least recoup me for my effort on his behalf." He hefted the corpse onto the back of a waiting horse and led the animal and its grim burden out of town, while the captain returned to the King to tell him that his orders had been accomplished, much to the heartbreak of the princess.

Darkness fell, hiding them from casual view. Garren led the horse off the road and down into a little dell where they would not easily be observed. He drew the hood from the boy's face and then laid a glowing hand to the unmoving chest; they both vanished in a brilliant flash. Bayard started awake with a jolt, wondering where he was. He frowned to find himself again upon the sofa in his own chambers; the embers of the dying fire easily produced enough light for him to recognize the familiar room. It could not have been a dream. It couldn't! He stood and threw wide the curtains, revealing a night dark world without. Whatever time it was, Brin was about to have a very rude awakening! He made sure his attire was appropriate to stalk the corridors and then hastened to find his brother.

He smiled in grim amusement; it was just recompense after all the tricks Brin had played on his elder brother over the years. He burst into the boy's chambers unannounced, quite shocking the servants on duty without, but he did not have the pleasure of waking the boy from a sound sleep, rather it seemed he had interrupted a highly secret council. Wary eyes turned to stare at the intruder while every hand strayed towards a sword or dagger, but upon recognizing the errant prince, they relaxed and Kipril smiled warmly, "it is about time you got here. We have much to discuss!"

Flummoxed, Bayard entered the room and sat beside his friend, taking in the other occupants of the room, including a mischievously smiling Brin, the unnamed prince of the neighboring realm, and the neophyte guardsman. Said Bayard somewhat dazedly, "could someone please explain what is going on?"

Kipril and Brin glanced questioningly at the guardsman, who looked to the foreign prince and shook his head minutely, the boy noticed none of this but burst out impatiently, "how stand things at home?"

Bayard whispered, "it wasn't a dream!"

Garren smiled wryly, "no lad, it wasn't, but we need not hear all the details now, a simple overview will suffice."

Bayard's eyes narrowed, for he heard a word of caution, almost an order, in those benign words to not reveal too much. He briefly recounted the tale, leaving out his own apparent execution and a few of the weirder details. The guardsman nodded approvingly while the prince was both relieved and horrified at the grim tale. Bayard at last asked, "what are you lot plotting at this hour of the night, anyway?"

Garren smiled, "we are going on the offensive against that wandering Wood. It is bad enough that it must ever be a blot upon the face of creation, but when it appears in places it has no right to be, then it is war!"

Bayard shook his head in wonder, "you definitely have some explaining to do!"

Garren chuckled, "no doubt lad, and you will be satisfied eventually, but first, down to business."

They talked for some hours but accomplished little, at last the foreign prince yawned and said, "I at least need sleep this night, fare you well gentlemen, until the morrow." He bowed himself out and left the others alone.

"Finally!" said Kipril with a laugh, "The suspense has been killing me."

Brin smiled, "I thought that was impossible?"

Kipril rolled his eyes, "I was speaking metaphorically."

Bayard burst out, "can someone please explain what is going on? What is real and what is a dream? I should be dead!"

"Oh, you are," said Kipril with an impish grin, "as are we all."

Bayard nodded grimly and frowned at his brother, "the snake?"

Brin sighed heavily and nodded, then smiled wryly, "it seems my trick backfired."

Kipril shook his head, "and we all paid for it."

"Still," said Bayard thoughtfully, "I think it was a needful thing. But what are we?"

Garren grinned, "a man lad, same as you've always been and will always be, save with a few useful skills and now beyond the reach of death and time."

Bayard smiled eagerly at the stranger, "and who might you be, sir?"

Garren bowed, "Captain of the King's Messengers, at your service." He laughed warmly, "though technically I suppose you should be at mine."

Bayard glanced at the maps and notes spread out on the table and asked, "can we truly bring the Wood to heel?"

"No," said Garren quietly, "but perhaps we can discover why it now has the ability to appear in random places where it should not be."

Bayard put his head in his hands and groaned, "does this sort of thing not give the rest of you a headache?"

"Easy lad," said the captain, putting a firm hand on the boy's shoulder, "you've been through much in only a few hours, whereas these rascals have had far more time to adapt to this strange new world in which they live."

Bayard sat back in his chair and sighed deeply, "I suppose you are right." His brow creased in consternation, "why was I unaware of things when the others knew full well what had happened?"

Garren shook his head, "it is not for us to know the exact details or reasons, lad, but it was a needful thing, else you would not have been made to endure it. You acquitted yourself well however, ignorant as you were."

The boy's cheeks colored in embarrassment, but he did not seem displeased with the comment. Regaining his composure, he looked eagerly to the captain, "so what is it we do in this peculiar service, besides saving an entire Kingdom from a wayward heir?"

"An excellent question, lad," said Garren with a chuckle, "but not one so easily answered. Our duties are many and varied, but in general, it is our job to keep the evil seeping out of that cursed wood on a tight rein."

Bayard nodded, then asked, "what is the Path?"

"It is our Master's answer to the evil that is the Wood, at least for the immediate need and succor of mortal men. The Wood would isolate and divide the mortal Kingdoms, but this the Master will not allow, thus He provides a way for men to bypass the Wood without enduring its evil, assuming they keep to the Path, that is."

"Who is in charge of the Wood?" asked Bayard, "Or has it a will all its own?"

Garren shook his head, "the Wood is a tool, not an entity, and it is controlled by any number of the Enemy's various servants at any given time, though I think at the moment there must be a rather powerful minion wielding much of its power, and thus is able to send it whither he would. We must find this creature and stop him."

"We would be quite happy to oblige you," hissed a fell voice as every light in the room suddenly went out, plunging the room into darkness, not that it hindered the strange vision of the gathered Messengers, but it added to the drama of the situation, which was much to the liking of the perpetrators and that was all that seemed to matter. Every hand reached for a weapon, but before anyone could draw their blades forth, the world spun and then went entirely dark, even to their strange eyes.

For a moment, Brin was somewhere else entirely, a place of wonder and light and joy, where a little bird sat and asked a question, albeit with no words. The boy's eyes widened at the request, but he bowed his head in contrition, remembering what had been borne on his behalf, and knowing that whatever might be asked of him, it could in nowise compare. It would not be pleasant, but it must be done. The world again went dark, but the boy knew his Master's Joy, and nothing could ever take that from him. They found themselves again in the Wood, Brin among them, a grim and determined fire in his eyes.

Garren scowled at the shadowy beings about them, deeper stains amid the forest's perpetual gloom, grated he, "what is this? Have you any idea what it is you have done?"

One of the wraiths snorted, "we are simply following orders; I could care less who or what you are or claim to be. Complain to my master, if you think yourself so horribly importuned, but I think you will soon find other things to occupy your pathetic little mind than a minor imposition on our part." With these words, he and his companions faded into the murky twilight, leaving the four Messengers alone, or so they thought, until a hiss and a snarl seemed to shake the very earth upon which they stood.

"You have a complaint, little wretch?" came a patronizing voice, like the boom of a mighty water in some deep recess of the earth.

Garren shivered in spite of himself, wondering what fell creature had the power to summon them thus, said he, "who are you and what would you have of us?"

The unseen creature scoffed, "me of you?" There came a bout of unholy laughter, like the rattle of dry bones, "rather, what is it you would have of me, the Master of the Wood?"

Garren frowned, "I do not understand."

"Of course not," scorned the creature, "else you would not be asking me these insipid questions. You sought me of late, and since I could not come to you, as you were undoubtedly withindoors, I sent my minions to escort you hither. Now why have you summoned me?"

Garren shook his head, "we had no intention of summoning you."

"Certainly not," snarled the creature, "no sane creature would do such a thing, unless suicidal, rather you were speaking or thinking of me, and I have ordained that any such must immediately present themselves before me and give an account of themselves."

"Ah," said Garren, smiling in grim amusement, "it is a bit circuitous, but I think I understand."

"How delightful," snapped the creature, "now get on with it. Or would you have me summon my minions back to serve tea?"

Garren barked a laugh, "if that would be your preference, I suppose we might oblige you, but we were simply trying to determine why this Wood of yours is suddenly wandering in places it should not be and how to stop it."

The creature yawned expansively, "because I will it to do so, and there will be no stopping me." They could not yet see the creature, but each felt the menace in its eager smile, "I can be defeated, but only by a certain means, a means I will not allow, and one I doubt any of you have the power to enact." The shadow-wrought minions suddenly returned, while the shadows concealing the Master of the Wood suddenly fled as a great wyrm towered over them, evil and amusement glinting in its eyes, continued the beast, "were you mortal men, you'd be cowering before me or begging my aid in whatever your pathetic quest, but as you stand boldly forth and bandy words, as with an equal, you can be nothing so interesting. Instead, you are of absolutely no interest or use to me and are equally impotent against me. But just to prove my point," he nodded curtly at the minions standing about, "let us see if you bleed."

A shadowy creature approached each of the Messengers and slashed a dagger across an unflinching cheek or palm, yet not a drop of blood was to be seen among them. The wyrm hissed in satisfaction, as Brin glanced wonderingly down at his unbleeding palm, eagerness burning in his eyes. Sneered the wyrm, "you see, I am right! You cannot hurt a mortal creature and such am I! Neither will I let such a creature into my presence, at least not without taking the necessary precautions, so you see, I shall live forever and this Wood will do my bidding until Time itself shall cease!" He indulged in some triumphant and hideous laughter while the Messengers exchanged a grim, thoughtful look, each catching the strange glint in Brin's eye, as if he was on the brink of doing something both brave and foolish, which made them all grin in foolish expectation.

The monster hissed, quite annoyed at their lack of dismay, "you think to devise a plot to destroy me? I think not, though your cursed master's nonsensical hope always seems to inspire such delusions of victory in his wretched servants, though they never manage to succeed, even when they pour out their very lives in quest of it. Have at me, little fools! See your own wretchedness and futility!"

Brin stepped forward boldly, "are you in jest, sir?"

The wyrm cocked its head in annoyance, "no, little flea, do your worst! Though even that will avail you nothing, rather I think you wish to redeem yourself, but it is not to be! You are a failure, utter and complete. You were the undoing of your brother and his dearest friend, and even your pathetic Kingdom will fall because of your foolishness, no matter that your feeble master has called you beloved and forgiven. His grace is no match for my wisdom or strength. So be it, little mouse, show me your master's full strength! Let us see his victory!"

Brin said quietly, "how is even a mortal man to defeat you, sir? For no weapon of mortal make is like to penetrate your hide."

The creature smiled wickedly, "ah, you begin to see the futility of your thinking, do you? Yes, I am a magnificent creature indeed, unlike you poor ghosts who can't even manage to squash a mortal gnat." The creature preened under its own praise, and said in a conspiratorial whisper that echoed in the distant dells, "but it is not mortal might that has been foretold as my doom, rather it is mortal blood, willingly shed, that will be my downfall, if such were ever to occur, but as even you can imagine, I will be no such fool and ingest any quantity of that poisonous draught." He eyed the boy eagerly, "but come, you have challenged me, little gnat, and still have not made good on your promise!"

"Very well," said the boy, drawing his dagger and charging the brute, who watched him with all the fascination of a cat studying a fly futilely trying to escape through a glass windowpane. He thrust his dagger into the monster's scaly hide, only to have the weapon snap upon contact, as if it were made of wax. The monster chortled in amusement and delight before snapping up the boy in its great jaws, only for its eyes to widen in horror as he felt a warm liquid seep over his tongue. The wyrm's eyes rolled up into its head and it toppled over with a groan, snarling, "what have you wrought!"

Garren smiled in triumph while Bayard and Kipril exchanged a stymied frown, said the captain, "mortal blood indeed!"

The moribund creature gasped, "it cannot be! He did not bleed!"

Garren nodded, "true, at least the hand your minions slashed did not, for that particular appendage was wrought of mist and light, but that does not mean the rest of the boy, at least most of him, was made of the same stuff."

"How can such a chimera be allowed to exist?" moaned the monster.

Shaking his head, Garren said quietly, "it was the work of your own minions, or perhaps other of your master's fell servants. They tore the boy apart, only to be driven from their prey ere they had finished their grim work. My Master's power restored him to form and function, at least temporarily, replacing the missing pieces with an equivalent wrought of mist and moonlight. He then willingly forsook mortal life to join the Messengers and his entire being was then clothed thus, but it seems he has momentarily recanted of his choice and chose again to wear mortal flesh, undoubtedly at my Master's behest."

The beast sighed, "typical, He always cheats..." The wyrm slumped and moved no more. The shadowy minions wailed in dismay before melting again into the gloom while Garren approached the dead beast. He reached a tentative hand into the back of the monster's partially open mouth and felt something soft and wet. The light flared forth and Brin was heard to gasp, "where am I!"

"Easy lad," said Garren with a smile, "just concentrate. You're in the back of the wyrm's throat, but walls can no longer contain you, just will yourself through them."

There came a sharp intake of breath and then suddenly Brin had ghosted through the monster's jaws and stood again in the gloom beneath the trees, his smile at its roguish best. Bayard clapped his brother on the shoulder, "congratulations, it seems you have slain your first dragon."

Kipril laughed, "that's certainly an odd way to go about it! One never hears of the valiant knight offering himself as an appetizer that the wyrm may choke on his adversary."

Garren smiled, "that's the mortal way of going about it, and such thinking has absolutely no bearing on your new profession."

Kipril smiled sheepishly, "I suppose I yet have much to learn about this odd occupation."

Garren nodded, "even I don't know what I am doing half the time, but you will know what you must when you must." Glancing about, he said wryly, "and I'd say it is about time we got ourselves out of this wretched forest and leave this carrion to those that will soon be drawn to it." With that, he faded into mist, his underlings immediately doing likewise.

End of the Age

One moment she was standing in the meadow with her father's sheep, as she did most every day, and the next the silly creatures were scattering in every direction as if a wolf stood in their midst, but she had eyes only for the sudden intruder and no attention to spare for her witless charges. "Come!" said he, quite literally bright as the dawning.

"Me?! Now?!" gasped she, unable to say much of anything, falling to her knees in awe and terror.

He drew her quickly to her feet with an urgent, "come, child, such is not to be! Are we not servants of the same Master? To Him alone belongs your homage, and thence have you been summoned!"

"Gracious!" squawked she, "Then we must not tarry, not in the least!" She offered him her hand, and with an even more brilliant smile, the radiance faded to the lesser glory of a sunshiny morning, leaving the scattered and gawking sheep to their own devices.

When her vision cleared, she had no idea what to expect, but this was nothing she had ever dreamed or imagined, not in the least. She found herself in a great hall, whose walls and even the floor seemed wrought of twilight blue marble and solid gold. The roof, if it was a roof, was covered in some clear material or was perhaps open to the fabulous sky beyond, but composed of such colors and light and texture mortal words utterly failed to describe its least aspect.

Her attention was suddenly drawn back to herself and her immediate surroundings, she flinched in horror to see she was clad in rags and covered in filth, as if she never bathed or mended her clothes! Then she looked upon the sound that had drawn her back from the happy study of that fathomless and enigmatical sky, the persistent clearing of an important and importuned throat. Her attention was now fixed upon a clerical seeming person, perhaps of gnomish descent, who sat in a tall chair with a high, narrow writing desk before him with a quill pen in his hand and a quizzical look on his ancient face. Her cheeks flushed scarlet as he asked again, "may I help you madam?"

"I hope so," said she tremulously.

"Your name?" asked he skeptically, as if he thought she was so defunct of all propriety that even such a basic concept must be utterly foreign to her.

"Kaya," stuttered she, nearly speechless in mortification and wonder.

He shook his head gravely, as he perused a list before him, "I'm sorry miss, your name is not on the List, you'd best be on your way."

"Where, how?!" asked she, trembling in an agony of confusion and fear. He pointed to a grim little door marked 'Exit,' the only ugly or plain object in sight. She approached it in near terror, feeling such an ambience of horror, hatred, fury, sorrow, and bitterness emanating from its further side that she couldn't take another step towards it unless forced. Kaya cried plaintively to the clerk, "I can't! Is there not another list? Are you certain?"

He blinked at her like a surprised toad, but showed her the paper and her mouth fell open. Under the ornate heading: 'People Worthy of Admittance,' was not a single name, at least there could be no missing her name, but if none was worthy, what hope was there? She slumped to the floor and began to weep. Said the clerical being rather awkwardly, "come miss, none of that, please remove yourself forthwith and don't make a scene!"

"Peace child!" came a voice like dawn itself into her hopeless night. And at that sound, sorrow itself might well unravel into nonexistence, let alone her tears vanishing as if they had never been. He looked into the terrified and wretched eyes of this beggar child but did not flinch away in disgust or anger, but rather allowed her for a moment to lose herself therein, at which she did flinch away in horror at all her own evils, sins, and selfish thoughts and deeds. She made to dash for that wretched exit, knowing it was the only way to escape those terrible, wonderful eyes, the deserved fate she had earned herself. But He merely repeated, "Peace child," and she fell to her knees anew, sobbing wretchedly upon that splendid floor.

She took His scarred hand, her tears vanishing forever, as He raised her to her feet. "It is gone, all of it," said He, "remembered no more, by either of us, for have I not borne the Price you could not pay?" He looked to the bowing clerk and asked, "forget the List, what of the Book?" An immense, gold bound volume suddenly appeared, appropriating the entire desk and flopping eagerly open to the desired page.

The clerk scanned the page, occasionally adjusting his spectacles, and then nodding when he found the entry, "it is as you say, Sir."

"Welcome Home, child," said He, Joy itself, and still holding her hand, He led her off into the vast Hall of Worlds, as He called it, apparently one could access any created reality from that strange place, pointing out all the wonderful things as they passed, as if an excited local showing His dear friend all the sights upon a first visit. They came at last to a picture of a planet in a black frame and stood solemnly before it.

"What a dismal place," said she, studying the wretched piece before glancing about at the various other frames lining the walls of the long corridor, some in plain wood, others gold or diamond, but this the only black one.

"It is your world, child," said He, "and it is dying."

"Dying?!" said she in horror, "Can nothing be done? You can do anything!"

"I have done all that can be done," said He quietly, "all they will allow Me to do. I now must resign them to the fate they have freely chosen." She gasped in astonishment and He continued, answering her unspoken question, "yes, it is the very End of the World. I have withdrawn My people and My blessing, and though it will be a gradual process, it is inevitable. If I withdrew My blessing suddenly, all life and reality itself would suddenly cease, for such cannot endure without Me, but rather I will gradually loosen my grasp and allow Men and the so-called ruler of that world to fully come into their own, to have their way with everything, though the end thereof can be only Death and Nothing."

"I understand," said she heavily, but she knew His heart was far heavier than her own, for though a native of that once beloved place, He was its Maker and had died to redeem it from itself.

Then He spoke, quietly, like the whisper of a hopeful heart, but she heard every word as if it was spoken directly into her ear, "though nothing can spare it the fate written of it ere I called it out of Nothing, perhaps those who still dwell there might yet spare themselves such an End."

"Could I?!" gasped she in trembling anticipation.

"Return and tell them?" mused He, as if the idea had never crossed His mind, though He knew full well she knew it had, but sobering He asked, "But who would return into a world rife with death and sorrow, far more than in the days you walked there, for My touch and influence over everything, especially the hearts of men, will swiftly wane? Who would abandon Glory for that?"

"Did not You?" whispered she, "Can even one be saved, is it not worth whatever pain or misery must be endured on my part?"

"Then Go child, with My blessing, and shine the Light into the ever-deepening gloom of utter Night," said He in proud benediction. As He spoke, the dark orb in the picture began to grow, as if she observed it from space and was swiftly diving towards its surface, until at last a familiar landscape, a pastoral scene with a few scattered sheep wandering in the distance, filled all the frame. She stepped through, as if it was a window upon the meadow she had vacated what seemed an eon ago, for so it was. His bright smile was the last thing she saw, and it was reward enough to last her enraptured heart through all the long ages of eternity, had she only a moment to glimpse it and that her only reward, but that was far from the case though she knew it not.

She stood again in the sheep meadow, the wandering sheep the only sign that her adventure had been real, or so she thought at first, but as she took in the world around her, her heart quivered in dread at the changes she observed therein, but then she remembered His smile and Presence and nothing could shake her, for had He not set her this Quest Himself, that others might find Him too, the only Hope in the ever deepening twilight of Time.

It might have been mere comparison with what she had experienced in the Hall of Worlds, in His Presence, but He had spoken of His influence and blessing fading gradually from this place, lessening to the point of nonexistence, so it was not a relative diminution she felt, rather it was quite real. The sunshine was a little less bright, there were fewer birds singing in the trees about the meadow and their songs were less vigorous. The grass seemed now of a rather sickly shade of green and the sky a pallid blue. There was no spring in the steps of the scattered flock, the lambs no longer frolicked over the meadow, the ewes morosely went about their grazing but with none of their former zest. It was as if color and light and joy and song had gone out of the world, but this was only the beginning!

Just then the sound of galloping hooves drew her out of her introspection and a smile lit her face, as Tobin's horse stopped immediately before her and he flung himself from the saddle. Seeing the smile of delight upon her countenance, he sighed in relief but joy itself was bright in his eyes, said he eagerly, "you have seen Him then?"

"Yes," whispered she in pure awe, "but I had to come back, I couldn't leave anyone to dwell in ignorance another moment!"

"As did I," said he, smiling ruefully he added, "though I hardly know what it is we have begun."

"We'll know," said she with a thoughtful smile, "but come, let's go talk to my father."

"Yes," said he reluctantly, knowing it his present duty but also disliking the idea of facing such a man with the sudden changes in the world he once knew, "but it shall not be pleasant!"

"No," said she, beginning to walk in the direction of the house she once called home, "but little is like to be in this last age of the world, but His pleasure in our obedience shall more than suffice for the lack here."

"Indeed!" said he eagerly, "How could I forget His smile?"

"We dwell again in a fallen reality," said she, "and until this very moment, our sensibilities were those native to it. In returning hence, it should little surprise us to struggle again therewith though we need not become hopelessly entangled therein."

"We will again feel pain and sorrow and suffer evil," mused he, "we must escape out of the world if we hope to avoid it."

"But then we abandon all who languish here to utter Night!" said she with a shudder.

He grasped his sword hilt and said stonily, "and that I will not do!" A moment later, once the strange spell had passed, they exchanged a puzzled glance and then a vastly amused laugh, for where had they gotten swords and what could they know of their use?

Tobin grinned vastly, eyeing the shepherdess brightly, "I am sure you have ever been so equipped whilst guarding your flock, milady?"

"As you well know," laughed she, but sobering she added, "though I do not think we are thus equipped to drive off feral dogs or a stranger who might filch a stray lamb."

"There will come viler evils in these last days of the world," said Tobin a bit prophetically, "poachers after our Master's flock, and we must drive them away from those who will not willingly abide their presence."

"What a strange idea!" said she in wonder, "A shepherdess with a sword!"

"These are the last days of the world," said he pensively, "I believe things will ever only get stranger, even to the point where a shepherdess can be a hero of the tale."

"Here we are," said she grimly, "now what?"

But they had no need to begin, for Kaya's father himself appeared outside the ramshackle house and demanded, "that's what I want to know? Why aren't you watching the sheep? Why is this fool hanging about and distracting you? I never much approved of the match, but your mother insisted, but now that she's run off, I'm of a mind to do things differently! Be gone boy and trouble me and mine no more!"

"No sir," said the boy politely but staunchly.

"It's your funeral, boy!" spat the man, but adding with a cruel smile, "Or it would be if anyone ever found out what came of you!" He grasped Tobin by the collar and quite literally lifted him thereby, dragging him across the yard and tossing him into the old well, wherein his yell of surprise was cut short by a horrid crash, only an eerie silence remained thereafter, until Kaya burst into tears of horror and anguish at her suddenly heartless father's antics.

"Stop wench," spat he, "if you won't watch the sheep and make yourself useful, I'll marry you off to my advantage, that Tyne fellow's been asking after you and his daddy's a rich man."

"Indeed he is," sneered the boy, just then coming up the lane and exchanging a curious, greedy glance with her father.

"Then she's all yours," said he, shoving the girl towards the maliciously smiling boy.

"No!" shrieked she, tearing herself away from them both but inadvertently tumbling into the well herself. They both stood on the rim for a moment, shrugged indifferently, then silently parted ways as if the whole debacle was of little significance or interest.

They stood again in the Hall of Worlds, they exchanged a grim smile, and made to step again through that ebony frame into a world devoid of all other Hope, but they both bumped their noses upon what was only a painted picture. They laughed at their own clumsiness and then exchanged a pensive frown, what did it mean? Kaya's eyes strayed across the corridor and saw another world framed in gold, gleaming and alive as the common seeming painting immediately before them was not. "Let's try that one," said she. Tobin studied it for a moment and smiled his agreement, and this time, they stepped into another world entirely.

Wide green hills sparkled like emeralds under a light so pure and bright it might have been the first morning of their own world, unsullied by death or sin or sorrow, for indeed that was exactly the case, for this world had never been broken or tainted by disobedience to the One who had wrought it; never had it strayed from the plans He had made for it before it was. But its moment of testing was come, but instead of the father of the race dooming all his children thereby, rather this was just one amongst many, whose selfish pride might doom himself but would adversely affect no others or his own reality.

"What are you?" demanded the astonished creature, to their human sensibilities a living example of the winged horses that pranced through the fairytales of their own doomed world, but a Pegassi in his own tongue.

"Men," said Tobin, bowing in polite greeting.

"No!" said the great beast, rearing in vehemence and spreading his great wings in emphasis, "Absolutely not!"

Kaya frowned slightly and was about to ask to what he was objecting, when he vanished in a brilliant flash, as if cut suddenly out of existence, at least in that place and time. The pair exchanged a grim look and shuddered, knowing innately that the creature had done something dreadful and had suffered the consequences thereunto, even if they had no idea what or how, that was not their present duty. No sooner had the first creature vanish than two others approached, as astonished at the first's vanishment as they were to meet a sapient race of bipeds.

The humans bowed after the manner of their kind as the Pegassi did in their own way, and after another long moment of studying one another, at last one of the wondrous creatures said to Tobin, "so it has come at last?"

Tobin shook his head, his brows furrowed slightly in confusion, "I beg your pardon sir, but I do not know of what you speak?"

He whinnied a laugh, "of course it is ridiculous of me to speak to one so thoroughly unused to our ways as we are to his as if he knew the whole history and future of our race and world!"

"This moment has long been foretold, when Men, though we knew not what a Man was until now, would visit our sphere and usher in a whole new era not only in our world but within his own as well," replied the Pegassi, tossing his head eagerly, "and that together we would fight evil and spread the Light throughout the benighted Kingdoms of men. This last being a purely philosophical exercise as we have neither evil nor Kingdoms amongst the Pegassi, but it sounds very exciting for all of that!"

Kaya beamed eagerly, "I fear we have no such prophecies amongst our own folk, but I am intrigued to discover your own!"

"As we shall together, milady," said the second Pegassi with another of those elegant and gracious bows, "let us be off!"

"Off?" asked Tobin in wonder.

"Are we not to fight evil and darkness in your own world?" pranced the first excitedly.

"Our world is doomed," said Kaya sadly.

"Thus we must fight the fiercer for those who can yet escape the fall of utter night!" agreed the second.

"But we hardly know what we are doing!" protested Tobin.

"What matters that," said the first, cocking his head curiously, "as we couldn't understand those old prophecies until this moment, why should we worry that we can't likewise predict the future? We'll know what we must, when we must, and in Him we can rest assured of everything, past, present, or future. Even the Lost One we must trust to His fathomless mercies!"

"You're sure?" asked Kaya tentatively, "I suppose this was the very thing your vanished kinsman protested against?"

"Indeed, dear heart," said the second, "for it is the glory and privilege and honor of my race to bear such dread warriors into battle!"

"Warriors?!" laughed both of the humans together, as Kaya enlightened the creatures, "We are naught but a pair of ignorant village children!"

"What care I for appearances or assumptions?" snorted the first, "When He says you are warriors or scholars, who are we to dispute it. So mount up and let's begin this long foretold adventure!" The humans exchanged a wondering smile, and did as they were bidden, vanishing in a flutter of bright wings, appearing again in their own former reality, the ambiance of the place only getting worse with every passing moment.

"What a horrid place," whispered Wing, Kaya's companion, in disgust, and turning a bright eye over his great shoulder, he asked, "you said it is a dying world?"

"Yes," said Kaya, "He said His blessing and influence will gradually wane before everything falls into utter Darkness."

"That much grace at least was left this wretched sphere!" said Aril, Tobin's mount, "For had He withdrawn His touch immediately, all would have come to naught that very moment, at least in this way some may at least find Him, if they will."

They had been trotting along a winding road through a wooded vale, but little heeding their surroundings, so caught up in their conversation were they, when Wing stopped suddenly and snorted in surprise, for they were no longer alone. "A stranger!" said he to Kaya quietly, "Do you have talking quadrupeds in this sad world of yours?"

"No," said Tobin, "I fear you must act the silly horse you appear when in mixed company."

"As you two pretend to be nothing but plain men?" asked Aril.

"Who needs to pretend?" grinned Kaya, but he did not reply, for the stranger was within sight and sound of them now, his horse eyeing them as curiously as their own mounts surveyed him while the three riders eyed one another tentatively, each hand resting uneasily on its sword hilt.

"Who are you?" asked the strange boy at last.

"Nobody in particular," said Kaya, an awkward smile upon her face, for despite their mutual unease, there was something she liked about the equally edgy boy.

"A smile?!" said the boy in wonder, displaying one of his own, "At such a time and place?"

"What is so strange about that?" asked Tobin with a pensive frown.

"Yesterday I would have said the same," replied the boy, "but today has been perhaps the strangest in history and I fear none shall ever smile again, at least in an amused or friendly manner."

"Quite true," said Kaya reflectively, remembering her father's abhorrent behavior towards his own daughter. But her own specimen deepened as Tobin sprouted one of his own, "but I am quite eager to defy this grim new tradition!"

"Amen to that!" said the newcomer, "I am called Kyan." Introductions soon followed, at least amongst the human members of the company as they all set off in the direction Kyan had been riding, said he, "it is a delight to meet someone who isn't fully lost to their own selfishness! Perhaps you would like to hear an old tale or two as we ride?"

"Not really," said Kaya with a wry snort, but as the boy's face fell in disappointment, she added gently, "unless you need the practice for some reason? I'd rather talk of other things, for well do we know the old tales, and while I never tire of hearing them, it is far more agreeable upon first meeting to interrogate our new companions and learn what novel things they might have to say, and after all that is said becomes an old tale in and of itself, then there is time enough for the real thing!"

"Truly milady?!" said Kyan in delight, "I thought myself perhaps alone in all this gloomy world."

"Not quite alone lad," said his horse with an amused snort, "but I suppose you meant amongst your kindred?"

As nobody seemed surprised that his horse spoke, the boy's grin deepened and broadened threefold, "excellent! Have any of you any idea what is going on?"

"Besides the End of the World," said Tobin, grinning archly, "no!" They shared a bright laugh at this before the Pegassi also introduced themselves to all and sundry.

Tobin asked of Kyan, "can you use that sword?"

Kyan barked a laugh, "I was hoping you or the lady might enlighten me?"

"A sheepherder giving sword lessons," said she dryly, "now there's a profession I had never considered."

They all shared a laugh at this, but as their merriment waned, Tobin drew his sword and challenged Kyan, "perhaps we should see who should be giving lessons to whom?"

"Certainly!" grinned Kyan, drawing his blade and bowing to the lady, "Would you deign to be the judge?"

"Men!" sighed she in feigned exasperation, but adding with a bright laugh, "Only if I get to challenge the winner?"

"Which is only as it should be," smiled Tobin, as Aril carried him out into the broad clearing in which they had stopped.

Wing climbed up on a little ridge that they might watch the better, the combatants closing as the pair watched curiously. "What if they hurt themselves?" asked Kaya anxiously.

Wing eyed her curiously and snorted a laughed, "you really know nothing at all, do you? Poor little foal! Fear not, my friend, we are not wrought of such flimsy stuff as once composed your mortal being; have you no experience in such matters?"

She smiled ruefully, "my father did throw Tobin down a well this morning and I accidentally fell therein myself; we should have been killed but found ourselves in the Hall of Worlds instead."

"Having ventured outside your own world into eternity itself," said Wing, "has quite altered your physical nature. You can no longer die or suffer injury or disease, though neither can you bear foals nor live again amongst your own people save on those errands He sets you."

"Did you forsake all that for our sake?" said Kaya wistfully.

"No," said Wing happily, "for His, did He not ask it of me? How then could I say no?"

"You couldn't," smiled she, "else you would have been disobedient and would have suffered the consequences. Is that what happened to the Lost One?"

"Yes," mused he grimly, "though I don't know what has come of him, perhaps he was sent to a fallen reality somewhere that he might yet find redemption?"

"But the boys are still ignorant of such things," said Kaya, as she watched their halfhearted attempts at swordplay, each fearing to accidentally hurt the other and therefore restraining themselves.

"They are making rather a pathetic show of it at that," snorted Wing in amusement, and screaming in his great horsy voice, he communicated her concerns to the other Pegassi, who bucked and snorted eagerly in reply, suddenly alight with a deadly radiance that set their riders likewise afire.

Tobin felt himself evaporating in that wondrous light, or rather the mortal guise that composed the exterior of his person, revealing an equally brilliant radiance composing his own being. He exchanged a rueful and excited grin with Kyan, before both put their full hearts and effort into the mock battle, making such a beautiful spectacle that Kaya could not help but clap her hands and bounce in her saddle.

"What are these fell creatures?" came a sneering voice immediately beside Kaya, whose attention was suddenly riveted on the fiendish thing that sat its own saddle beside Wing, who snorted in disgust, but refrained from further comment.

"Little do I know of such things," said she slowly, wanting to add, 'what are you?' but knowing innately that she should see nothing but another common man aback a common horse rather than some fell thing draped all in black cloth aback a monstrous winged reptile.

"Whatever they are," hissed the thing, "they won't do you any good, even if they were capable of such a feat."

"I don't need their help," said Kaya, her sword in hand, Wing turning to face the villain.

"Unwise, child," spat the monster, "but all the more delightful in that it will only deepen your despair!" It drew its sword and charged the lady, little fearing her pathetic blade, for it had been promised immortality and power over all mortal things. But this was no mortal thing, rather she easily clove the monster in two as Wing made his charge, its reptile flapping off in distress and confusion as its rider fell to ash with a horrible keening wail which brought the boys galloping madly to her defense, but she could only smile brightly at them and put up her sword.

The boys exchanged a wondering look and then Tobin laughed aloud, "I see you are the master swordsman in our company milady! We can but swat at one another like boys with sticks whilst you are out fighting our real foes!"

Said Wing grimly, "I am sure there will be plenty of the things to go around."

"Let's be off," said the lady, "if you two are quite content in your antics?" They exchanged a beaming smile, draped themselves again in mortality, and the company set off anew.

After losing his bride, Tyne wandered back to the village, wondering what to do. The whole world seemed changed about him somehow though he couldn't exactly say how or why, but part of him wanted to take advantage of it, whatever it was, but how? His sister had vanished along with nearly half the village, in some cases whole families had simply disappeared, but no one seemed to know why or how, assuming they had merely run off for reasons of their own and assuming life must still go on, though perhaps with less restraint to one's personal ambitions than they had previously been forced to endure. But how to stretch those long unused muscles? A great raven sat in the tree above him, staring down with eyes too wise and cruel for any avian thing, making the boy's dreadful smile deepen. Some hours later he awoke, smiled grimly to himself, and hastened into the village to do as his new master had bade him, eager to try the power he had been promised.

He saw Bayard sitting morosely on the steps of his empty house, still pondering how suddenly everything had changed, and not for the better. "Where are they, Tyne?" asked he of the slightly older boy as he approached.

"Who?" groused Tyne, not interested in the wretch's philosophical or emotional ponderings.

"Everyone!" said Bayard wanly, "My entire family is just gone! There isn't a child left in the village. And the world itself seems like it is verging on despair."

"Who knows or cares what came of them?" snapped Tyne, "I've found something far more interesting, curious?"

"No," said Bayard disinterestedly, "unless it can bring them back or put cheer back into the sunshine?" But he frowned slightly, a strange light in his eyes, "but they all knew something or rather Someone. I used to laugh at such notions, but everyone who vanished took them quite seriously. Could that be it? Has He taken them for some reason and left the rest of us to ourselves?" He shuddered in dread, "is life now utterly hopeless, as shall be eternity beyond it?"

"Who cares!" spat Tyne, "I've found true power and you can too! Who needs hope or faith or love when one can have Power?"

"I'd rather have love," heaved the boy wretchedly, "I wonder if it is too late?"

"Those are dangerous ideas," snarled Tyne, "and should you indulge them, I'm afraid it is my duty to see that you regret your foolishness sorely, at least for what little remains of your life, which shall be short and miserable."

"Dangerous?" mused Bayard, "Yes, it is dangerous, at least to such unbelieving wretches as we! But there is mercy there, and grace too! Oh, that I had been wise enough to see it sooner!" sighed he wistfully, "But at least I am not fool enough to continue walking blindly in darkness!" Tyne roared in absolute fury and lashed out at the astonished boy, eliciting a scream that sounded as if he had lost a finger, but both stared in stymied wonder at the pinprick of a wound that merely afflicted the tip of one finger, but only Tyne was laughing, cruelly and with much malicious joy.

"You'll soon wish I had cut it off," snarled Tyne, easily snatching up the wondering youth and carrying him to the middle of the village green, whereon he threw the wretch down and called aloud, drawing everyone's attention. Roared the fiend, "this is what will come of any of you that think to turn for comfort to the so-called master! You have but one master, His Fell Majesty! Bend knee now, all of you, lest you likewise perish!"

"It's just a scratch!" protested the prone Bayard, but he was so weak no one could hear him. His flesh had taken on an ashen tone and he ached as if he had endured a sound beating at the fiend's hands instead. His afflicted hand was already cold, dead, and useless, and such a hideous greyish green that it looked like it belonged to an old corpse. Already similar patches had appeared all over his body, and he knew the curse was wreaking as much havoc within as he could see without.

"You can't leave that carrion here!" spat one old crone imperiously as Tyne made to saunter off with half a dozen curious fellows eager for the power he promised.

He shrugged indifferently, "dump him in the mire, it's all he deserves!" He turned and left the dying wretch alone with the remaining villagers, who exchanged uneasy murmurs before drifting off themselves, leaving only the old woman, who was a tyrant to any dirt, grime, or disorder, in her own domain or anywhere in the village. Muttering under her breath about worthless men, she dragged the poor boy out to the mire and left him there to rot and die, little caring in which order he accomplished it.

Bayard sank a little into the muck, but it would be hours before it consumed him utterly, the Creeping Death would kill him long before that, at least he would have that much mercy, but there came a morose voice that had not even that wretched hope to cling to, "so this is death?"

Bayard glanced about as best he could, seeing no one, but gasping to see a horse's head sticking out of the mire not far from where it slowly engulfed him, but there was such wisdom and misery in the creature's eyes that he knew it was a sapient creature and no mere beast. Said he in wonder, tripping over his half dead tongue, "so it would seem, but it need not be hopeless, as I thought only an hour ago."

"What can you know of such things?" repined the horse, "Foal that you are?"

The boy smiled ruefully, "my mother and grandmother regaled me with all the old tales since I was a very little boy, insisting I learn them even if I never believed them, but they are true! And they are life indeed, even amid the shadows of death. If I can find hope therein, why can't you?"

"But I am a fallen, wretched creature," wailed the horse, "disobedient and doomed to die!"

"Such is every man," sighed Bayard wistfully, "at least until we humble ourselves enough to accept His gift on our behalf, He died that we might live! But most, including myself until this very moment, think they need no redemption or rescue, for is man not sufficient in and of himself?"

"I would think not," said the horse wryly, but snorting in disgust, he added wretchedly, "but then neither am I. Tell me of this Hope?" And he did, at least as much as he could before he groaned in agony and slumped unmoving into the mire's ever deepening grasp.

"At least you are free of all this," sighed the horse heavily, Erian by name, as the mire continued to suck him into its slimy maw, "but you have given me hope, child of men, and perhaps beyond all things, we shall meet again and laugh at ourselves thus."

"It is about time, child," said a little magpie, perched in a bush a few feet from the stymied horse.

"You call me child, You?!" said Erian in wonder, "It is not too late?"

"Else why would I send you forth into this wretched world?" queried the Bird gently, "I sent you here to learn just that, otherwise I could have cast you into the Abyss the moment you rebelled, but such is My mercy and grace that I would have all saved, but some will not come. Now will you say yes to that which you were so adamantly set against?"

"Most certainly!" said he eagerly, "Will you free me from this mire?"

"The wages of sin are death," said He grimly, "but after, you have nothing to fear!"

"I understand," said Erian heavily, wondering how many hours yet he must wait until that fell hand was fully about him.

"I did not say it must be the mire that accomplished the deed," said He with a wink of one bright eye, and inhaling sharply, the horse's head slumped in death. The next moment, he breathed full on the horse and on the corpse-like boy, before vanishing with a flick of white wings.

Bayard inhaled sharply and glanced about in wonder, even as Erian struggled to his feet and climbed out of the mire. The boy smiled wryly, and figuring if the horse could manage it, why not himself. They stood upon the solid ground nearest the mire, studying one another, each wearing a rueful grin. "You're a mess!" laughed the boy.

"And you're an old corpse!" snorted Erian dryly.

"I am one to talk," said the boy in horror, scanning his own ruined exterior, "How is it I am even alive?"

"I thought you believed in life after death?" smiled the horse archly.

"This isn't exactly what I had anticipated," grinned the boy, very disturbing in that visage, "but then what do I know?"

"Absolutely nothing," came a laughing voice, "if this is what you think you can gad about the countryside looking like!" Both turned gazes, equal parts eager, awkward, and anxious, upon a broadly grinning Kyan aback what looked to be a rather unremarkable horse.

"You aren't horrified?" queried Bayard in wonder.

"Slightly disgusted, certainly," grinned the impish boy, "but what do appearances matter in this business, mount up and let's be about the adventure the Master has set us."

"Who are you?" gasped the seeming horse.

"You mean who are we!" snorted the other Pegassi eagerly, revealing that awful light and washing away the filthy or terrifying visages of their new companions.

"Ah!" said Erian, prancing his delight, "Much better!" He glanced at the boy and screamed in delight, "especially you my friend!" Bayard could say nothing, he could only gape at himself and exchange wondering grins with all and sundry, but since he was too pleased to talk, at least he could act, and a moment later he was aback Erian and the whole party left that dreadful mire to its own inconsolable musings.

"Who's interested?" growled Tyne, grim dagger in hand.

"Not me!" shivered one of the men that had accompanied him in hopes of discovering something worthwhile in this new chapter of the world.

"Me!" said the most cantankerous man in the village, nearly as old as the world, or so the young folk whispered amongst themselves, "I wouldn't mind living forever, at least if it isn't an eternal old age?"

"Certainly not," hissed Tyne eagerly, "you'll soon enough be as spry as me! Anyone else? I'd think carefully, were I you, lest you try my patience!" A communal shudder engulfed the company but no one spoke. He gave them a terrible leer and set to work on his volunteer, halfway through the operation, there was only one trembling fellow left, a ne'er-do-well with no better prospects, no matter how much the procedure terrified and sickened him, for the rest had flown. Tyne smiled cruelly to himself, for as soon as he was done here, they'd pursue the wretches, it would be a good first assignment for the new recruits.

He ran blindly down the road in terror, the sound of pursuing hooves driving him madly forth, but he knew he could not outrun them, but his heart must burst ere he willingly stayed his flight. Suddenly the pursuer passed him by in a flurry of wind and fallen leaves, for though it was still spring, many of the trees were inexplicably dropping their leaves as if in the midst of autumn or severe drought. And there standing in the road before him was the blandest boy imaginable aback an equally dull horse, rather than the monsters he knew must be pursuing him. "Tobin?!" said he in wonder, at last recognizing the boy.

"Would you permanently escape Tyne and his cronies?" said the boy, slipping from his saddle and offering the fellow his seat.

"Is there any horse fast enough?" shuddered he.

"Indeed," said the boy, a mysterious knowing light in his eyes, "take my horse and I'll deal with your pursuers." The man nearly fainted in relief, but Tobin managed to get him horsed and the Pegassi was off as soon as his weight settled in the saddle. The moment the man was lost to sight, Tobin donned his likeness and continued his jog down the road. When Tyne finally caught him, he was far from gentle, but he was none the wiser that his real prey had escaped his clutches. Tyne stared down at his handiwork and smiled in wicked delight, he loved his job, before trotting off to find another victim.

Aril appeared in a flutter of bright wings the moment Tyne vanished from the scene, wrinkling his elegant nose in disgust at what had come of the boy, but with a flash of that wondrous light, the creature was soon restored to form and function. "What of your passenger?" asked Tobin conversationally as he gained his feet, as if he had merely stopped for a rest alongside the road rather than having been importuned thereupon by a most villainous fellow.

"He and the others are safely gathered in a little glade wherein Kyan is telling them of the Greater Things," replied the vastly amused Pegassi, "and what of you?"

"Never better!" grinned the boy, veiling his radiant form again in normality, his eyes narrowed pensively, "Kyan?"

"Do you not recall that old proverb of a prophet being little tolerated in his own village?" snorted Aril in delight.

"Ah," nodded Tobin, "that quite makes sense. These fellows have known the rest of us since we were infants!"

"Shall we join them?" queried the Pegassi, "Or have you enjoyed your solitary stroll so much you'd like to continue?"

The boy shuddered in remembrance but grinned ruefully, "another time perhaps," as he leapt into his saddle and they vanished together with a flick of bright wings.

"You're as mad as Tyne!" laughed one of the men grimly, but there was no mirth in it.

"You're sure we escaped those things?" queried another, little interested in what he just heard but desperate to know if he would live to see another dawn.

"Yes," said Tobin, sliding from his saddle on the far side of the glade, "they quite think they've made an end of each of you."

"How?" asked the third.

"Our own peculiar form of madness," grinned Kaya, "this rescue was of His making and only He can rescue you from the terrors to come, especially once death pounces like an inexorable storm."

"And what dreadful rites did you endure at His hands?" groused the first, eyeing Bayard specifically.

"I died," said the boy bluntly, "as every mortal must, but it was Whose I am that mattered, not anything I had done or left undone."

"But that monster..." said the first with a shudder.

"Has nothing to do with us," sniffed Kaya in disgust, "save as a foe to be fought at every turn."

"Your Master will rescue us from these ever darkening days?" asked the fourth.

Bayard shook his head, "He will rescue you from utter Night, but we each must live the lives and endure the trials set before us. He will not snatch you from the fire simply because you dislike the heat, rather you are crying out to Him for relief and then humbly submit to whatever His will is for you in whatever is to come, even be it to continue to walk through the flames. He will not be used as a means to pleasure, prosperity, or convenience, but rather you must come to Him because you desire nothing more. He blesses His servants abundantly, but often in ways we had never anticipated."

The first said in disgust, "I really have no use for these so-called Greater Things, either of a good or evil nature, I'll be going, if I might?"

"By all means," said Kyan, "you are quite free of your former pursuers and we place no hindrance or burden upon you."

"Very well," said the man, rising abruptly to his feet, "as it seems I must start anew, I'd best be about it." With that, he vanished into the deepening gloom of evening, leaving his three companions to their uncanny hosts.

"Thanks for the rescue," said the second, "but I've had my fill of the inexplicable, perhaps one day I'll desire such nonsense, but for now, I'm just a common man who wants to make his way in the world." He stalked out of the glade in the opposite direction from the first's exit.

"I have questions," said the fourth.

Tobin nodded, "we are more than happy to answer anything you might care to ask, no matter how elementary or trivial." The third remained silent, but listened attentively as his remaining companion led the conversation whither he would. At last they settled down into an exhausted sleep, all the Messengers but Kyan vanishing about other tasks as he remained to ward their sleep and answer any questions on the morrow.

When they wakened, both men were rather eager to indulge in what they had formerly called nonsense or wishful thinking if not pure madness. "Now what is to come of us?" said the fourth, "We're not like to find much of a welcome anywhere in these dark days?"

"No," said Kyan, "but still you must live in this wretched world until your appointed time, then better things await! Go forth and help others see the Light by which you now walk! As must I!" He was gone in a flutter of bright wings, leaving the pair to exchange a wondering smile, before they set off upon this last, great adventure.

"Would you escape, milord?" came the voice of a dusty peasant, inexplicably standing in his bedchamber the moment his Lordship wakened that fateful morning.

"Escape what?" spat he, "How did you get in here? Where are my servants and guards?"

Bayard opened the drapes that his lordship might see for himself, the ravening crowd gathered outside, demanding justice and blood. "All the world is changed," said the boy quietly, "the virtues and morality common to mankind, the glue that bound families and societies together, is quickly slipping away and all the world is descending into barbarism, in which each man lives solely for himself. They demand your life and then will fight amongst themselves for your property! I offer you escape, both from physical death, and if you would hear my tales, perhaps from eternal death too!"

"Be gone, pestiferous boy!" spat his lordship, "I do not fear these wretched peasants nor have I need of rescue of any sort! I am a lord!" He called loudly for his servants but they did not come, so he had to endure the arduous task of dressing himself! Once ready, he descended the stairs and presented himself before the gathered rabble, but he never spoke a word, as they grabbed him bodily and carried him off to have so-called justice enacted upon him. While the majority was busy dispensing justice, the wiser individuals were making off with this or that valuable bit of his property and vanishing forthwith, for once his lordship was dead, the remainder would turn upon one another hoping to replace him.

Bayard shook his head sadly, unseen by any mortal eye, and as first one and then another declared himself lord and owner of all, a hundred sided melee began, he and Erian vanished from that dreadful place while others likewise fled in horror in all directions, after some of these refugees was he sent, to speak light into the utter darkness that was gradually creeping over the world.

Orville sat on his crumbling porch, gazing morosely at the wan sunrise, every day was shorter and there was less heat and brilliance in its shining. The nights grew longer, colder, and darker, for it seemed even the very stars were fading from his perception or perhaps from reality itself. The summer was only half spent but already it felt like late autumn. A third of the trees were dead, with as many more showing signs of the same impending fate. Here and there a straggling flower boldly turned its petals towards the sun, when once the green had been covered in them. His wife and son had run off, with half the village, but what did that matter? All his neighbors were growing daily more grumpy and impatient and greedy, one hardly dared appear in public anymore, at least he did not have to tolerate that in his own house or from his own family!

But apparently he did, for here was his wretched son returned! "Where have you been these past months, boy?" snarled he grimly.

"About my Master's business," said Kyan lightly, as if it made any sense at all, "such is my task now."

"Be gone," spat his father, "there's no place for you here anymore."

"I know," said the boy sadly, "but you must first hear of the Greater Things..."

The man laughed him to scorn, "those old myths your mother was ever going on about? I've heard quite enough and your echoing them won't make me believe them! Now off with you." Kyan bowed his head in acknowledgement but vanished only from casual sight rather than from that particular time and place.

No sooner had he vanished from sight than one of their most vociferous and cantankerous neighbors stalked up and demanded, "Orville! You still owe me for helping cut your hay last summer, pay up!"

"But I did pay you," said Orville with a frown, "I repaid you in kind by helping bring in your own!"

"Bah!" scoffed the intruder, "So you say, but you still owe me for all the countless things I have helped you with through the years, and all for nothing!"

"What do you want?" asked Orville in defeat, "I only had the two cows, the one sickened and died late this spring and the other sloughed her calf. She's all dried up and thin as a rail! I've nothing else left to me."

"What?!" roared the furious man, "That's it?"

"It's the same everywhere," said Orville with a shrug, "the crops are blighted, the livestock dying, the wild things likewise!"

"Well," said the other, a horrid, cruel smile on his face, "I guess I'll just have to be content with your wretched beast, but one less mouth to feed in these desperate times isn't a bad thing, is it?" He drew his belt knife and stabbed his old neighbor in the stomach, before sauntering off with a triumphant laugh, "that was kind of fun!"

Orville collapsed with a groan, falling into the arms of his horrified son, again visible to all and sundry, though the murderer was gone. "Easy sir," said the boy gently, "you need not die alone."

"Leave me be, wretch!" spat Orville, "I want nothing to do with you or your precious master, go salve your conscience on someone else! If he isn't strong enough to protect me or save the crops, what use is he or you? Leave me..."

Kyan could not hold him, the moment he protested, the man fell through him to the ground, as if he was wrought of mist. The boy sighed heavily as the man cursed his Master with his dying breath, but there was nothing else to be done. The boy bowed his head in grief, the Pegassi approaching and draping his great head comfortingly over the boy's shoulder. And there was Bayard on his other side, saying quietly, "this is why we were not sent forth alone, my friend. I am truly sorry!"

"Yes," sniffed the boy wretchedly, "he ever was a hard hearted skeptic, and to the last too!"

"You're Orville's boy, aren't you?" came the querulous voice, "I thought you had run off ere all this?"

"Yes," said Kyan wryly, despite his grief, "but I have returned, if only briefly."

"To kill your father?" said the scandalized neighbor, but he eyed the seeming horses with interest, "Though it seems you are doing well for yourself, are you a horse thief too?"

The boys exchanged an amused glance as the Pegassi snorted their own, said Bayard quietly, "he returned for a brief visit but tragedy was wrought by another neighbor, and the boy is certainly no thief, far from it!"

"Well," said the neighbor skeptically, "maybe I'll believe your tale, if you'll give me one of those fine beasts."

"Certainly not!" said Kyan in horror at the very thought, forgetting to his old neighbor's eyes they were just horses, "They are neither to be sold nor given away!"

"I'm afraid then justice will fall rather hard on you both and then I'll get one anyway for being a witness and solving such a dread crime!" triumphed the nosy neighbor.

"What's all this?" demanded the murderous neighbor, returning from the barn with a gaunt cow in tow, eyeing the horses with a greedy gleam in his eye.

"Orville's boy has returned, killed his own pa too, and I'm sure he's a horse thief!" replied the less than helpful other neighbor.

"That's too bad," said the murderer, "but I'll take the horses and let the lot of you keep your lives, how's that for fair?"

"Not so fast," said the other neighbor, "I want one, I saw them first!"

The killer dropped the rope and raised his fists, "is that so?"

"Yes!" retorted the other, before leaping upon the man.

"Let's go," said Bayard quietly, drawing Kyan away while the Pegassi silently followed. They could hear the sound of the scuffle dying away with distance as they approached the inn on the far side of town.

Said Erian in horror, once they were out of earshot, "to think I might have descended to such barbarism had I not repented!"

"Such are we all capable of save for His grace," sighed Bayard heavily, "and the world seems only too eager to demonstrate just that."

"Though we must stand witness that it does not have to be that way," said Kyan, brightening slightly, "we have a choice!"

They grew silent as they approached the chaos that had been a quiet country inn, the distraught innkeeper standing beside the fracas, wringing his hands, he glanced at the dusty boys in dismay, and said gloomily, "what is to come of me now?"

"What has happened?" asked Kyan, frowning in disgust.

"I was going about business as usual," replied the innkeeper, "though it gets harder by the day to make an honest living, people are so querulous and grumpy these days, and I asked a regular customer to pay his rather extensive tab, for I've others demanding that I satisfy my own debts likewise. He took offense, jumped the counter, and helped himself to a bottle of my best wine, declaring it was his by right. When I asked what right, he said the right of might, and if I wanted to protest, he'd be happy to break my nose and burn my inn. Of course a bottle of wine wasn't worth that, so I withdrew and let the matter pass, but word spread and suddenly everyone in town is pillaging my inn! I'm ruined!"

Bayard shook his head grimly, "the world itself is doomed, sir, there isn't much future in any endeavor the world boasts."

"In what then can we hope?" said he in distress.

Kyan smiled like dawn itself, "at least in that we can avail you!" He began the old, old tale, so enchanting the innkeeper and those who caught his words, that they even paused in their pilfering to listen, some dropping their stolen goods and joining the quickly growing little crowd around the strangely joyous boy, but as his tale wound down, they shook their heads in disgust, picked up their loot, and hastened into the lengthening shadows of night, leaving the boys alone once more with the innkeeper.

"Now what?" said the man sadly, "While your tales give me hope, what have they to do with me and my ransacked inn?"

"If you have found hope therein," said Bayard, "why not go tell all who will listen of the same that they might likewise find a light in this ever deepening darkness?"

"That's a great idea lad!" said the man brightly, "I've nothing to hold me here any longer, I'm off this moment." He glanced ruefully at the inn, deciding they had likely pilfered his hat along with all else, so didn't bother returning thence to fetch it, but rather bowed grandly to the lads and hied himself off upon the strange quest thus set him. The boys exchanged a happy smile, leapt into their saddles, and vanished about their next adventure.

The world was dark, cold, lonely, the sun only a distant memory if it wasn't a delusion. Human society and civilization and family were myths out of ancient days. Agriculture, art, metal smithing, and every form of craft was forgotten. There had been no children born since that fateful day, nor had anything grown or flourished upon the suffering earth, its misery every day more acute. The survivors drifted apart, hiding away in wild places, surviving on what they could scrounge from the land: abandoned crops, roots, weedy plants, carrion. Most lived in isolation, if it could be called life, but some clung to one another, old promises or family ties still meaning something in the depths of their hearts, but most had fled all company for very fear of their lives.

But the brothers had stuck together through those long and ever darkening years, for they had always depended upon one another and been there for each other through the miserable years of their childhood, but now, there seemed no relief or succor in sight, just a cold, endless night, that even their brotherly affection could do naught to dispel.

They sat on the edge of a little lake, black, still, and lifeless in the wan grey light that now passed for full day. "I haven't eaten in days," said one.

"There's nothing to eat," sighed the other.

"So we'll just sit here and starve together?" scowled the first.

"It is all that is left to us," replied the second, "at least we need not do so alone."

"I'd rather eat than have company," growled the first, taking a convenient rock into his hand.

"But we've stuck together for so long!" protested the second, shifting as if to flee.

"And now you'll do me a final service in your devotion to your dear brother!" triumphed the other, smashing his brother's skull with the rock.

"Isn't it delightful!" hissed a terrible raven to a little magpie, both perched unseen in a dead tree, "Did you ever think to save the wretched beasts? This is what they are! Barbaric, selfish, miserable things! Leave them to me and return to your own affairs, sully not your precious glory with these fools!"

"Enough!" said He, but not in reply to the Fiend's taunting, but rather to the world's suffering. Suddenly all was still, silent darkness, like the void out of which He had called that particular reality. The Fiend squawked in dismay and vanished forever from that reality, for he and his likeminded creatures could not long endure what was to come. So too did all mortal life and being vanish, matter itself collapsed into nothingness, leaving only nothing, but not the Nothing of the Abyss, but rather an empty and clean slate upon which He might create freely and as desired.

"Ride forth!" commanded He in triumph, the whole void quivering in anticipation thereof, like birth pangs of the new creation, for verily they were. At His voice, suddenly here and there a light, like a star in the annihilated heavens, shone bright in the darkness, for all the ransomed souls that had once called that world home were then restored too it, and at His command, each began to run joyously forward, or if a Messenger, dash madly forth aback the exultant Pegassi, eager to clothe the ruined world in perfection once more. And so it was over the whole face of the world, wherever they walked or rode, there was light and color and being, music, order, and structure.

And it was so beautiful and marvelous that it made the previous horrors seem naught but a nightmare, hardly to be remembered upon waking. And there He was, brighter than the forgotten sun, daily to walk among them. And now, in the Hall of World, that darkened frame was now wrought of diamonds, bright and shining and forever incorruptible. And the tales to be told and the adventures to be had could hardly be imagined, let alone put into mortal words, for our own sad world would burst asunder with joy at the merest hint, unable to contain the least of them.

Thrice Told Tales

The hunter tensed as his quarry stepped into range, he willed himself to breath evenly and slowly, preparing for the shot of his life. As innocent and gentle as a young doe, and as completely oblivious to her danger, the maiden turned broadside to the hunter, but the decisive moment passed and she continued on her way, joyously stalking wildflowers. The hunter released the tension on his bowstring and lowered the weapon with a heavy sigh, he could not do it, no matter what failure would cost him; the price of success was far too high. He had trained his entire life for this moment and he had failed, utterly.

"You are doomed, fool," grated a harsh voice behind him, he knew better than to turn around.

"I know," said he quietly.

"Very well," said the fell voice in grim satisfaction, before withdrawing as suddenly as it had come, for the hunter knew himself to be alone once more. He cast his dark mask to the ground in disgust, stowed his bow and arrow, and mounted his horse for the long ride home, not that it would much avail him. Everything was now moot, for he was as good as dead. None defied the Hunters and lived to tell the tale; the strange voice had only confirmed that fact.

They had come to him, or as much as one ever saw of such men, when he was but a boy, barely old enough to try his skill on the archery range. They had whispered from the shadows, enticing, tempting, promising, and at last so ensnaring his young heart that there could be no escape. He did as he was bidden by his unseen masters, ever increasing in skill and confidence, until at last he was declared ready for this, his final test and initiation into their secret brotherhood. But at the moment that should have yielded his greatest triumph, he hesitated, nay froze, and he knew he could not go through with it. He could not murder someone to advance his own cause, even if he must forfeit his own life thereby. At least he would die with his honor intact, much comfort it would give him in the eternal dark and cold of the grave, thought he with a mirthless grin.

"You almost ruined my curse," hissed a vexed female voice.

"What is that to me?" came the indifferent answer, "You originally cursed the wench to die anyway, so why all the fuss?"

"I have come to a greater appreciation of my pathetic cousin's interference," said she, "this way, the girl will languish on until the end of time in a limbo of wakeless sleep rather than simply dying and getting on with whatever it is that awaits these wretched mortal creatures thereafter. I find it a much more satisfying and amusing alternative."

"But is there not some danger of the matter being rectified?" sneered the fell voice.

"Yes, drat those meddling princes!" snarled she, "But I will make sure none gets too near the girl, you can be sure of that."

"Kill the boy when he comes," said the voice, "he is of no further use or interest to me."

"With pleasure," said she with a cruel smile, "for it was he that almost ruined everything. Consider it done." But there came no answer, for her companion had vanished.

"Where have you been?!" came the distraught and eager voice of his younger brother, as Prince Vyan swung out of his saddle.

"Hunting," said the Prince dryly, "and no, I was quite unsuccessful. What has you so aflutter, you aren't in love again are you?"

The boy frowned in annoyance, but otherwise ignoring his brother's jibe, burst out, "you really have been well away from civilization if you haven't heard the news! The Curse has come to pass!" Vyan's brow furrowed as he tried vainly to discern of which particular curse his brother might be speaking. The boy sighed like their long suffering mother and said impatiently, "you know, the one placed upon that Princess of the neighboring realm when she was just a baby?"

"She pricked her finger on a spindle and now she'll sleep forever," said Vyan quietly, somehow envying the girl her fate.

"Unless a handsome Prince comes to awaken her," crowed his brother eagerly.

Vyan's brow furrowed, "and you happen to be that Prince? What do mother and father say?"

The boy heaved a disappointed sigh, "they absolutely refuse to let either of us go, too dangerous or some such nonsense."

"Dangerous?" asked Vyan in growing eagerness.

"Yes," said the boy, "a great thorny hedge grew up around the castle the moment she fell asleep, everyone and everything inside the castle walls is sleeping too; we only have word of the disaster because her parents happened to be away at the time, they returned to find the castle completely inaccessible, those thorns are said to be sharper and deadlier than any sword; they came here begging father's aid."

Vyan frowned, "you can't try your hand at this quest because father is afraid of the thorns?"

The boy shivered, "it isn't just the hedge, there's the beast too."

"Ah!" said Vyan, a grim smile growing on his face, "Now we are getting somewhere. What of this creature?"

Said the boy, "the good fairy that originally mitigated the curse, causing a wakeless sleep rather than certain death, was there to speak with the girl's parents upon their return and she warned that her cousin, the evil fairy who cast the spell, would not just let any daring prince show up and ruin her curse, rather she is said to be guarding that awful hedge, in guise like a fierce and terrible monster."

Vyan laughed grimly, "now I see your predicament, but why were you so eager for my presence, besides for a love of sharing gossip, that is?"

The younger prince shrugged uncomfortably, "I thought maybe we could both go or perhaps you could put in a good word for me..."

He trailed off as Vyan shook his head, and said gravely, "this disaster is far beyond either of us to rectify, I will do nothing of the sort. You had best obey the King!" He turned on his heel and marched out of the castle; in desperate need of thought, he hied himself to his favorite place in the surrounding woods and paced ceaselessly beside the quiet river that idled beside him at a broad place in its bed.

A magpie sat upon a branch that arched over the water and watched him intently, at last he ceased his pacing and gazed in vexation at the irksome bird, for he felt those keen eyes ever upon himself. When it spoke, it hardly came as a surprise, for no mere bird possessed a gaze that intense and knowing, said the bird, "what bothers you, child?"

The boy snorted in amusement to be so addressed by this small avian scavenger, but said he grimly, "I do not know what to do. I feel I must attempt to free this enchanted Princess, yet I have been marked for death even so."

The bird cocked his head, "if it is death to rescue the girl and you are a doomed man already, who better to attempt such a valiant deed? What truly troubles you?"

The boy sighed heavily and then said with a bitter laugh, "I am afraid to die, some hero I am!"

The magpie ruffled his feathers and shook himself before addressing the troubled Prince, "that is not cowardice but commonsense, when one does not know what comes thereafter. The interminable dark is certainly something to fear, but it need not be so."

"Yes?" said the boy eagerly, his soul suddenly quivering in anticipation and dread.

"You once promised yourself utterly to a rather nefarious group of assassins," said the bird quietly, the boy was somehow unsurprised at the creature's knowledge, continued he, "I too demand such devotion."

The boy's heart leapt within him, "but you are not so unscrupulous a master!"

"Nay," said the bird with a squawking laugh, "I am the very antithesis. Will you save the girl?"

The boy asked quietly, "can you spare my life?"

"Can and will are two very different things, child," said the magpie stonily, "I could, but I won't. You must trust me even so."

The boy bowed his head and went to one knee before the little fowl, "do what you will with me, sir. My life and service are yours."

"I certainly will," said the bird with a joyous chirrup as he winged off, as he vanished amongst the trees, the boy heard a final, "go save the princess."

He stood with an eager smile, his heart lighter than it had been even before his imminent doom was pronounced, even though he knew he still rode to his death, no longer was he utterly hopeless in its shadow, rather he greatly anticipated what was to come. He hied himself back to the castle, ordered a fresh horse, and set off immediately for the neighboring realm, the servants scratching their heads in disbelief and wonder at his sudden departure, on the very heels of his arrival, but it was not their place to question the doings of the Prince so they held their tongues, at least until they could discuss it at leisure and length amongst themselves.

He rode recklessly, heedless of his own comfort and needs, rather stopping only as necessary to spare his horse from collapsing in exhaustion, for eager was he to be about this adventure. When at last he felt he must be on the very brink of that storied land, his horse panicked and left him unceremoniously seated on the ground, staring up into the vicious yellow eyes of a triumphantly smiling monster. He felt a moment of utter terror as the creature pounced, but as the world erupted into pain and darkness, an otherworldly peace descended upon him like a mist and he lost all conscious awareness of anything at all.

The creature daintily licked the blood from her claws and fur before resuming her more usual shape, she glanced dismissively down at the mauled prince, and then sauntered off contentedly about her own business. The moment the vile fairy vanished beyond a distant hill, a magpie lit on the inert form of the prince and breathed full on his face, saying, "up lad, you have yet to accomplish your task!"

The boy sat up and blinked groggily, glancing about in confusion, but hearing the words, he suddenly jolted back to full awareness of his precarious situation and lunged to his feet, grasping his sword hilt in anticipation. "Easy lad," chortled the magpie, "the beast is gone, for no one is fool enough to try rescuing the princess any longer, in fact, the tale has become something of a fairytale hereabouts." The prince blinked at the little bird in wonder, as he continued, "aye, it has been near a hundred years since you set forth on your adventure. Many such have set forth and none have returned, in fact, the beast has given up her vigil entirely since none have ventured hither in over seventy years. But it is about time the girl was wakened. Go, the thorns won't hinder you."

With a nod of farewell for his avian captain, he dashed off in the direction that called to his very soul. He thought the hedge would draw aside to allow his passage, but rather he found he could pass unscathed through the tangle as easily as a rabbit runs beneath a briar bush. He passed the sleeping servants and courtiers, still slumped at their posts, without a second glance, eager to find the ensorcelled princess. And find her he did, a small gasp escaped him as he recognized her as the maiden from the woods, but he did not hesitate in his approach and kissed her full on the mouth. She awoke with a sleepy little sigh, smiled up into the eyes of her prince, and then blinked in astonishment as he suddenly vanished.

A pert little magpie, perched on the windowsill, said to the maiden, "to find your Prince, lady, you must venture into the Mists." She gasped in wonder and terror, but her words died on her tongue, for the bird was gone.

The Mists? That mysterious bank of fog at the world's end? Whyever would her Prince venture thither and insist that she follow him thence? It was sheer madness! But then, what else did one expect in a fairytale, and this was certainly a fairytale, which suddenly reminded her of a vital task she had neglected until that very moment, summoning a servant, she quickly had him write down a reminder to herself, that should she ever throw the gala of the century, she would not be inviting any fairies whatsoever, just in case one was overlooked again, thus perpetuating the cycle of curses and magic kisses. With that bit of business attended to, the Princess finally got out of bed and summoned her ladies. Once she was fit to be seen, she took her foremost handmaiden and went straight to the stables and ordered horses for the pair of them.

The Captain of her father's guard immediately confronted her on the matter, but she simply ordered him aside, saying, "my father is nowhere to be seen Captain, and as we have no doubt been asleep for some years, as judged by the growth of any tree you care to study, I assume that he and my mother are long dead, thus rendering me the rightful ruler of this realm. I am about to undertake a long and arduous journey in search of my Prince and the rightful King, and I will be doing so without any escort but my faithful servant. I will entrust my safety to the brazen little fowl that set me this adventure in the first place. See that all remains orderly, safe, and secure until our return." Speechless, he drew aside to let the ladies and their horses pass, and still had not found his tongue when they had ridden out of the keep, adventure bent. The thorn hedge that might otherwise have hindered their exit had fallen to dust the moment the lady awakened from her long repose.

"We are going where, your Majesty!" piped the dismayed handmaid.

The Princess only smiled and shook her head, "we are bound for the Mists, Nell, for to find a Prince."

The girl said with a sigh, "as you say, milady."

The Princess shook her head, "not as I say, but as I must."

It was a very long and relatively dull journey, certainly nothing fit to recount in a tale such as this, but the days passed pleasantly enough, brigands and vile weather refrained from making an appearance, and neither did their horses tire nor their provisions fail upon the way. They crossed many strange and wondrous lands, until at last they came to the brink of those Far, Distant Hills, a seemingly endless expanse of rolling downs, completely unpeopled, at least by mortal men. Said the Princess, as she gazed over the endless hills, "I must go onward Nell, but you can remain in the village until our return if you'd like."

The lady smiled, "nay Highness, I have come with you this far without incident and that hardly counts as an adventure. I shall make a proper tale of it and see what lies thither."

The Princess smiled her grateful joy and kicked her horse down the hill and up the next, her lady close upon her heels. A vivid blue sky and a choir of larks were their merry companions by day whilst all the starry host accompanied them at night, for they felt no need of rest or stopping in those strange lands, but galloped onwards, ever onwards, until at last they came to a great wall of radiant mist that stood on the very brink of the mortal world. Dismounting, the Princess said, in a voice both eager and sad, "await me here Nell, for only I may venture within." Before the maid could protest, the Princess hied herself into the brume and vanished therein.

It was not cold and damp and gloomy as she had expected, rather the innocuous mist swirled about in its oblivious dance, draping the world in mystery, hinting and teasing of wondrous things unseen, throbbing with an imminent joy, just beyond sight and hearing. She wanted it, whatever it was, this thing beyond mortal naming.

"And have it you shall," came the voice of the magpie, but from the throat of a great unicorn, continued he, "that is if you truly want it."

She blinked in astonishment to find herself on her knees before this wondrous creature, she who felt disinclined to pay homage to any mortal man, said she a bit breathlessly, "if I truly want it?"

"You must be certain child," said he gently, "for it comes at great cost yet it is a gift beyond all price."

She frowned slightly at his puzzling words, but knew there was but one answer, "even so, sir, let it be as you have spoken."

"Very well, child," said he, "but remember, I must be more dear to you than life itself or you had best just go home and live as it pleases you."

"No," said she, quietly, "life could never be the same again, after this; it would be colorless and drab, not life at all. I desire it, er...you, above all things."

"Well said," quoth he, "but it will not be so easy to remember when once you leave these Mists, the mortal world has a strange way of distracting and distorting what you know to be important above all else."

"Can you not help me?" asked she in growing trepidation.

"You need but ask, child," said he, with a gentle smile, "now take your Prince and return home. May your reign and kingdom be blessed above mortal wont, and it will be, as long as you remember your promise."

She wanted to say something, to thank him with words too grand for mortal tongue, but he was no longer before her nor was she yet within the Mists, and yet, somehow, she knew he knew and therein was she greatly contented. She blinked, for standing beside her was indeed the Prince. He smiled awkwardly, an expression perfectly mirrored on her own countenance.

"Well," said he, as if unsure what else to say, "that was certainly an adventure."

"Adventure?" gaped she, "I was asleep for a hundred years, that isn't exactly the role of a proper heroine!"

"It was a more active part than mine," said he with a wry grin, "at least you were alive for the majority of the tale." She gaped anew as he told his story.

As he finished, she asked, "what of this order of assassins, these Hunters as you call them? What of that wicked fairy? Aren't we like to have problems with them?"

"Undoubtedly," said he with a grim and eager smile, "else we could just end the tale here and now, happily ever after and all that, but life is never tied up so easily or prettily in so neat a little bow."

"Well," said she, "I suppose we had best get back to my kingdom and begin our long and prosperous reign." She frowned then and glanced uneasily at her companion, "wait, I thought you were dead?"

He laughed for very joy, "were is the proper verb tense, madam, for I was of a certainty, but I am so no longer."

She shook her head in wonder, "I am not sure I'll ever be able to wrap my mind around all of this."

He said wistfully, "no mortal can, milady, but that is part of the wonder and beauty of it all."

Just then Nell came galloping over, overjoyed at seeing her mistress once more but rather awkward in the presence of the strange prince. Said she, all out of breath, "your horse took off as if he had gone mad, milady, but he came back of his own accord and brought a companion with him." She glanced significantly at the Prince and said quietly, "I suppose we'll all be mounted now, as is only proper." Without another word, the Prince helped the lady into her saddle and soon found his own, then they galloped off into the deepening twilight.

As they left those verdant hills behind, a lady, grim and full of malice, met them upon the edge of the village wherein they hoped to restock their supplies. Said she to the Prince, who saw again the cruel eyes of the Beast in the face of that haggard woman, "you may have foiled my little curse boy, but you will in nowise escape my wrath or revenge. Know this, that from this day forth, tragedy and disaster shall befall every generation of your house, I will see to it personally."

He bowed his head politely, but his words were grim and solemn, "perhaps you will try madam, but as we have averted this curse, so too shall we hope to be spared thus in all that is to come, but even so, we shall not lose faith or trust in the One that can overcome even your vile witchery."

She chuckled merrily, "you are more a simpleton than I thought, boy! This shall be grand indeed! Ride along, have your happily ever after, while it lasts. Let us see if your words are so bold when tragedy is wrought amongst those you love best, let us see if you cling to your pitiful hope even then!" She vanished with another cackling laugh, leaving the Princess and her lady feeling rather uneasy, but there was such a fire of eager joy in the Prince's eyes that they could not help but draw comfort and courage therefrom, for his Hope lay beyond the confines of this world and sprang from a Source nothing of this mortal earth could hope to quench, whatever betide. They spent the night in the village, restocked for their journey, and set forth the next morning, eager to see the unicorn's promise fulfilled.

The return was as uneventful as their journeying forth, save that the Prince was a bright and merry companion, one who intrigued the Princess no end. Said she in wonder, after he recounted the tale of his first unwitting encounter with her in the woods a century gone, "what is it these vile men hope to accomplish and whyever would you wish to ally yourself with them, what stayed your hand at the last?"

Said he quietly, "I did not know they were so abhorrent until the last, perhaps I sensed or felt a hint of darkness there, a bit of evil here, but I was simply trained in the warrior arts, among other things, skills that could be used by hero and villain alike. They did not tell me the target of my arrow until the moment you stepped into view, and then I knew to my very soul I could have no part in such a company, even to the forfeit of my life. I do not know what it is they seek or who controls them, but their ends can only be evil and chaos."

She nodded and then asked, "why do you not fear the grim fairy's prognostications?"

He shuddered involuntarily but answered confidently, "I do not look forward to whatever evil she intends, but rather I must trust, that whatever happens, our Master's grace and power will either overcome it or give us the strength to bear it. Already he has proven his faithfulness, and I will not begin to doubt now." He smiled wryly, "were it not for said grace, I would be in no position to doubt at all, rather I'd be a hundred years in my grave. Fear not, my lady, for you have ventured beyond the confines of this world, therefore what within it can give you cause for dread, doubt, or fear?"

"I like the sound of that," said she with a smile.

He smiled warmly, "my sagacious words?"

"Nay," laughed she merrily, "rather the words, 'my lady,' have a nice sound to them. I am growing rather fond of being your lady, sir."

"And that is as it should be," said he with a grin, "my lady."

They returned home without incident, much to the relief and joy of the Princess' subjects, not least of which was the Captain of the Guard. They were soon married with great pomp and celebration and began their reign with joy and an eager hope, untainted by dread, despite the grim fairy's vow. They ruled for many a year in peace and prosperity, the Kingdom flourished like never before as they clung joyously to the words spoken within the Mists, despite the distractions around them.

Some years later, when both of their sons were verging on manhood and the vile fairy's promise of vengeance was all but forgotten, her words at last found fulfillment. In a rage, the younger struck out at his elder brother, though evenly matched with the sword, his rage and jealousy drove the younger to heights of prowess he had never before known or exhibited, the swordmaster would have been vastly proud of his pupil had tragedy not been in the offing. Of late, the boy had been keeping company with dissolute noble youths his own age, also younger sons of their fathers and unlikely to inherit much therefrom, and thus much discontented with their lot in life. Their bitterness and vexation ate into the young prince's heart like a canker until naught of love or affection remained for his elder brother, of whom he had previously been quite fond, so it was that some quipped remark drove the jealous prince over the edge and he struck out at his brother with all the fury pent up in his young heart.

The elder managed to draw his sword in time to defend himself, but he soon lost a hand to his enraged sibling and then fell gasping, pierced through the abdomen. The boy recoiled in horror at what he had wrought, as his brother lay dying on the sward in a growing pool of his own blood. For a moment he thought he heard the sound of malicious laughter carried on a vagrant breeze, but he shook his head violently and the sensation ceased, leaving him alone with his acute misery, for truly he did love his brother but had forgotten in his jealousy and rage. He fell to his knees, weeping aloud, "if only I had not been such a fool, if only it could be undone!"

"Would you take his place?" came the inquisitive voice.

"In a heart beat," said the desperate youth, glancing around for the source of the voice, but seeing no one, hidden in a remote dell of the forest as they were.

"So be it," said the voice, as the boy gasped in agony, as his brother's wounds suddenly assaulted his own person. "But," continued the voice, "you are of absolutely no use to me in such a position. Will you come?"

The moribund boy heard the finality in those words, knew life as he knew it would be changed forever if he heeded them, but he was dead to that life anyway. With a weak nod, he confirmed his assent before he lapsed into darkness. The elder prince awakened from his faint some hours later, to find himself alive and unscathed, though his clothes were a tattered ruin of dirt and blood and there was no sign of his younger brother. All he could do was hie himself home and hope for some answer to the troubling riddle.

The boy awoke lying on his back, the pain was gone but he could not see much around him, save a swirling, radiant mist. He sat up and looked in surprise at what should have been a severed hand, for there was now a hand in the requisite location, but it was not wrought of flesh and bone, but was rather composed of that ethereal mist. His attention was suddenly drawn to the great unicorn that now towered over him, said the wondrous creature, "you have a choice to make, child." The boy shivered in wonder and dread at the magnitude of implication carried in those simple words.

Continued he, "life and death are nothing to me, for I am the Master thereof. I once restored your father to life and not a sparrow falls but I know of it, but I ask something else of you. You may pass from the mortal world and see what lies beyond it, else you can return, but not as your father did, to lead a normal human life, rather you would stand apart from all mankind, my servant upon a very particular errand: to mitigate the curse that evil fairy placed upon your father's house and to destroy a certain order of assassins, intent on naught but death and destruction, a bane upon all the kingdoms of men."

The boy smiled eagerly and rose to one knee, his head bowed, "there can be but one answer, sir."

"Very well," said the unicorn, his words joy itself.

The boy shivered, whether in dread or anticipation, he did not know, but this would be the moment that defined his life, or ruined it utterly. He clutched the dagger in his sweating palm and took a furtive step into the alley, still partially obscured by the shadowy doorway in which he had been hiding; a scrawny, half grown lad scavenged in the refuse heaps, oblivious to his danger. The would-be assassin suddenly froze as a heavy hand fell on his shoulder, even as the skittish youth looked up, saw the shadow-draped figures at the far end of the ally, and fled like a spooked deer.

"You ruined everything!" snarled the irate boy as he whirled to face the stranger.

"Did I?" asked the former prince.

The boy hesitated, his brow furrowing thoughtfully, "perhaps your interference is my salvation."

"Could you have gone through with it?" asked Brin quietly.

The boy shivered, "I would have gone through with it, but the question is, could I have lived with myself afterwards? I don't think I could have." He sighed, "not that I'll live long to regret the power I will never have." He fell with a gasp of pain as a living shadow suddenly assaulted him, moving too fast for his eyes to discern anything but a dark blur and the glint of steel in the moonlight, but the stranger's sword was just as swift, reducing the fiend to a vapor of smoke that vanished with a pitiful wail, but the damage had already been done. The fading boy said wanly, "see." He frowned, "what was that shadowy thing?"

Brin said in disgust, "the very minion of evil you were about to become. It was once a man, but is now just a shadowy wraith, possessed of great skill and the deadliest of enemies yes, but a shadow still." He said with a curious smile, "since you are dead anyway, why not make the best of it?"

The boy frowned in consternation, "how can any good come of death?"

That enigmatic smile deepened, "I know a way." He touched the boy on the shoulder and they both vanished before the boy could scream his terror, leaving the dismal alley in darkness.

Brin reappeared alone, his former companion having an appointment within the Mists, and knowing this part of his quest might be far from pleasant. He found himself holding his horse by the reins, standing outside the city gates upon the main road entering the city of his birth. His brother came galloping up the road like a madman, but he sharply reined in his horse upon sighting Brin, nearly colliding with the younger prince in his surprise and haste. They exchanged a silent gaze, the elder nodded firmly, then Brin mounted his horse and followed his brother back the way he had come, this time at a far more sensible pace. Once they were well away from prying ears and curious eyes, they dismounted, tied their horses, and continued deeper into the woods on foot, still maintaining their awkward and pregnant silence.

At last, certain no sensible person was about to overhear something they should not, Ben rounded on his younger brother, "just what is going on here? You attacked me, nearly killed me! Yet here I am, uninjured and you vanished completely. What is going on Brin?"

Brin studied his feet for a long, awkward moment, then evenly met his brother's stern and puzzled gaze, "I am sorry, for everything, and I'll explain, at least as much as I can, but can you ever forgive me?"

Ben blinked, not having anticipated his brother's contrition and full admission of culpability. Ever since he had taken up with those dissolute fellows, his attitude had been one of resentment, blame, and anger. This apology surprised him far more than his vicious attack. His eyes narrowed, but he could discern no trick or deception in his brother's countenance or manner, he seemed fully sincere, said he slowly, "you really, truly mean it! Of course I can, and heartily do, forgive you that is, but what is going on?"

Brin abashedly studied his feet again, but forced himself to meet his brother's gaze once more, "I've been a veritable idiot these past months and today was the tragic peak of my stupidity and pride. But for a miracle, you'd be dead and I'd be a traitor, a murderer, and the most miserable man alive, how ever long that would last." He smiled wryly, "and technically I'm still guilty of murder and treason both, not that it would do much good to execute me."

Ben shook his head in confusion, "why am I not dead? And how can you take this matter so lightly?"

Brin sobered, "the only thing I wished for more at that moment, than that I might die in your stead, was that I had never wrought such havoc in the first place." He studied his feet anew, "my wish was granted." Ben's mouth gaped open but no sound came forth as Brin hastily continued, "that is why you escaped unscathed, but why do I yet walk beneath the mortal sun?" He could not hide his wonder or joy, "mercy and mercy alone." He unconsciously flexed the hand both he and his brother had lost in quick succession as he met his brother's mystified gaze, "you have heard our parents speak of the Mists and the Master thereof and his part in our family's history?" As Ben nodded, his eyes wide, Brin smiled keenly, "I now ride for him."

Ben wore a slight, quizzical half smile, "so what does this mysterious Master of the Mists have you doing, oh most errant of knights?"

Brin laughed, "I will never challenge you to a duel of alliteration at least." His smile grew grim, "I am to hunt down and destroy the Order of Hunters, that and foil the evil fairy's curse upon each successive generation of our family."

Ben's mouth fell open, "that's a tall order for a mortal man."

Brin said quietly, "I am no longer of that persuasion. I have passed beyond death, else I would be powerless against such foes."

Ben nodded sadly, hearing the keen pang of loss in his brother's voice but also slightly envious of the deeper, greater joy that seemed to underlie it all, said he at last, "what shall we tell our parents? This will break mother's heart."

Brin smiled like the impish boy he had been before taking up with those wastrels of late, the return of his boyish enthusiasm for life alone was worth whatever price he had paid for his foolishness, said he conspiratorially, "I will of course speak with father at length upon the matter, but mother need never know. It will vex her greatly that I'll never marry or give her grandchildren to dote upon, but you can at least mitigate most of that damage with your own family doings."

"Thank you very much," said Ben with a wry smile, "but it is probably for the best. So you'll be basing yourself from here then?"

Brin barked a laugh, "I hardly know what it is I am about or where I'll be a moment from now, but yes, I must be about now and again to both maintain appearances and to ward against our family curse."

Ben frowned, "you can't just kill the fairy and abrogate the curse?"

Brin shook his head, "nay, it is not so simple a matter, for she is an immortal creature, possessed of powers strange and varied. Once she has cast a spell, it cannot so easily be undone, even in the face of her own demise, if such is even possible. Certain criteria must be met to break the spell, which in this case have never been clearly defined, but steps can be taken to minimize its effectiveness, and since she has personally vowed to oversee the success of this particular curse, ending her meddling in such affairs is certainly one such step."

Ben exhaled sharply, "you've entered a world far beyond me, my friend, I'll be happy to live out my days as a mortal man, but will be ever grateful that you are warding our kith and kin from such vile forces." He frowned in annoyance, for his brother made no timely reply, but as he glanced about in search of the boy, he was gone. Shaking his head, he smiled wryly, and began the long walk back to his waiting horse. Miracles indeed!

"You just had to meddle, didn't you!" hissed the irate raven from a branch of a dead oak, somewhere in the forest's dark heart, where no light of sun or moon had penetrated for many an age.

"What are you complaining about now?" groused the grim fairy, "Why is it always my fault when something goes wrong?"

"You do not know?" said the bird in cruel glee, "He'll be coming for you next."

"Know what?" said she impatiently, "Who? Can't I just enjoy my success for a little while without you grumbling about your latest failure and blaming it on me?"

His smile deepened and the malice therewith, "you truly don't know? Fool! It will be your destruction when you thought it your moment of triumph. How utterly delicious! Your little family tragedy didn't play out exactly as you thought it did."

"What!" snarled she, "I saw it all, the elder brother was nigh unto death and the younger stood over him, aghast at his own treachery, it was beautiful!"

"It was beautiful," sneered the bird, "but fruitless, for the moment you turned away, He interfered. Not only was the elder brother spared, but the younger has become a veritable nuisance to our plans, and an actual threat to you; in fact, he's been sent to destroy you, along with my Hunters, hence my annoyance with your meddling."

"Destroy me!" said she in grim delight, "He has no such power. A mortal man! Hah! Let him do his worst."

"It is not his power you must fear, but that of his Master," hissed the raven in disgust, "that wretched Unicorn meddles far too much in mortal affairs, it is quite scandalous! They should be sheep for us to prey upon at leisure, yet He insists on playing the part of Shepherd, and I cannot fathom why anyone would stoop to such levels."

Scoffed she, "well, let the boy come, and we'll see who comes out the victor." She gave the raven a confused frown, "you said he threatens your precious Hunters? I did not think it possible, I thought the horrid creatures quite beyond the reach of mortal men?"

"Hear you nothing that I say?" growled the bird, "Thanks to your meddling, the creature is something altogether more annoying than any mortal has a right to be. I would not dismiss him so lightly, but then, it is all you deserve." She opened her mouth to rebuke the insolent fowl, but her words died aborning, for the creature was gone, but in his place stood a certain young man of whom they had just been speaking.

She smiled mirthlessly and said, "so you are come at last then? Let us see your revenge."

He just studied her blankly for a few moments and then asked, "revenge?"

She gaped, "you do not know who I am?"

He snorted a laugh, "I am beginning to have a very good idea. The infamous evil fairy, I presume?"

She rolled her eyes in indignation, "the evil fairy? Is that the best your folk can devise? No wonder they forgot to invite me to that ridiculous little party when they can't even come up with a suitable pseudonym for their family's personal bane! I am she, do your worst, boy!"

"But I am not here to do my worst," said the boy, "merely to deliver a message. You are summoned to the Mists."

"What?!" squawked she like an enraged chicken, "Summoned like a disobedient child? Never! I will not give an account of myself to your pathetic master. Tell him I refuse."

"Very well," said the boy with a shrug, as if it was of no concern to him, "here then is his answer." She braced herself, ready to counter his sword with any number of vile spells, but he did not reach for his blade, rather, he simply placed his hand on her shoulder.

A moment later she was shakily climbing to her feet, feeling as if she had been thrown from a galloping horse. She glared at the boy, "what was that?"

"I believe," he said patiently, "you have been stripped of your power and immortality."

"What?!" gaped she, trying to conjure any and every spell in her possession, but fumbling like a peasant at a formal gathering at court. Cried she in outrage, "this will not spare your family!"

"No," said he, "your curse remains, but you will no longer oversee its success and I will do what I can to mitigate its effects. Good day, madam." And he was gone, leaving the former fairy alone in her wrath and despair in the heart of a wood where mortal men were far from welcome.

"I think we need to arrange a marriage for Brin," said the Queen to her husband as they sat over breakfast the very morning of their sons' disastrous encounter, "he is not the boy he once was since he has taken to lolling about the palace with those abhorrent young men. Perhaps there is a dragon that needs slaying, it might vent some of his pent up rage and get him away from those cads for a time, perhaps he might even win a princess thereby." She gazed fondly at the King, with an impish smile of reminiscence.

He returned her warm gaze, but said soberly, "we must do something I suppose ere disaster results, but I do not know if a forced marriage is the answer. Perhaps I should speak to the boy about it first." The rest of the meal yielded no further answers and the King suddenly found himself without an appetite. He rose and went to attend to his duties, hoping to distract himself thereby. But that night, still uneasy, his heart heavy with dread, he summoned the boy to his private study for a long overdue word upon the matter. The boy presented himself promptly, which was highly out of character of late and he even seemed relatively cheerful, though some revelation of great significance seemed to weigh heavily upon him, but this was not the brooding, gloomy, easily angered Prince he had been but the day before.

Said the boy outright, before his father had spoken a word, "I must apologize, father, for my behavior of late, it has been reprehensible and you should have called me upon it far sooner."

The King gaped at the utter transformation then smiled wryly at the mild rebuke in his son's words, though there was no scorn or disrespect in his voice, said he, "perhaps I should have, but at least it is not too late."

The boy glanced at the obnoxious plaid of the furniture, which an ancient Queen had somehow found attractive, for a moment before saying uneasily, "alas, Sire, it has come too late." He smiled eagerly, "but at least it was not the disaster it could have been." He then went on to detail his strange adventures, a storm of horror, wonder, and joy playing over his father's face as the tale unfolded.

Once the boy had finished, the King smiled in the same impish manner he had passed on to his son, "and to think your mother was just this morning proposing that we find you a proper wife to rein you in. It seems your adventures far outstrip those of your parents, but sadly they'll only record your mother's history for posterity, and that will be considered a fairytale at best, for they'll hardly believe what you have just told me, not that anyone outside your brother and I are likely privy to the matter, at least among mortal men." He smiled warmly and embraced the boy, "whatever it is you have embroiled yourself in, it is good to have you back, my son."

After the requisite father and son bonding was accomplished, Brin asked hopefully, "what can you tell me of these Hunters, as you were once hoping to join them?"

The King shook his head, grimacing in remembrance, "not much, I'd hear a grim voice from some shadowy corner that would tell me what next I must accomplish, but never saw who it was that was speaking. Hearsay has it that they can appear at any place or time, even within a locked room with no windows or places to hide, and strike with impunity at high and low alike. They are a veritable menace to law and order, peace and prosperity, for often their deeds are blamed on others and chaos and injustice are the result."

The boy gaped, "and you wanted to be part of such a fraternity?"

The man snorted wryly, "this from the boy who tried to murder his brother this morning?"

"I see your point," said the abashed youth, "it is far easier to judge others in hindsight than it is to make wise decisions in the passion of the moment."

His father laughed outright, "you sound as if you have gained a bit of wisdom lad, keep this up and soon no one will recognize you."

"It seems there is hope for me indeed father!" laughed the boy in delight, "But then there is for everyone who comes to trust in Him!"

"And glad am I to know He has set such a guard about His people, whatever their language, culture, time, or place," said the King joyously, "though fear, sorrow, and death stalk the world, we need not despair, even when it pounces and holds us in its grasp."

"Amen to that Sire!" said the boy with shining eyes that had glimpsed those unseen things which mortal minds can hardly imagine but which await all faithful souls when Time's sad tale is fully told.

The Valley

The four stood upon a rise overlooking a peaceful valley, wherein a few lights began to twinkle while smoke curled placidly from the chimneys as the inhabitants nestled in for the night. They exchanged a silent, meaningful glance, nodded firmly, and then each separated to begin his descent and take up his position ere dawn. The boy's heart was full of conflicting emotions as he made his way carefully along the eastern rim of the valley, eager to get into position and sort out his swirling thoughts. Much had been promised him and this night would see the beginning of its fulfillment, if only he did not fail or balk in that which was to come. But his soaring spirits did nothing to ease the pain and panic as his booted toe caught on a stone in the deepening gloom and he was flung bodily down the hill.

He sat up at the bottom with a groan, collapsing in agony as he tried to stand and put weight on a limb that would not bear it. What was to come of him now? He was beyond useless to his master and his companions; he would be put down like a mad dog and with as little regret. But he was drawn out of this bleak reverie by an unexpectedly gentle voice that said, "easy lad, let us see what mischief your stumble in the dark has wrought."

The boy blinked in astonishment to see a man, old and bent, but still strong and vital, bending over him with concern and care. Continued this unlooked for savior, "nothing seems to be broken, but that ankle has certainly been twisted and won't be bearing weight for days to come."

Pled the boy, "but something must be possible, I have business to which I must attend!"

The man chuckled warmly, "nay lad, whatever it is, it will have to wait a few days. You won't be leaving your bed any sooner, and perhaps not even then. You've given it a mighty wrench, you have. And I won't let you make a worse hash of it, not if I can help it. Now whereabouts do you live?"

The boy heard the truth in the man's words and fell into a black despair, from which he knew he would never emerge. Mistaking the boy's bleak look, the man said warmly, "never fear lad, a stranger though you be, you can stay with me until you are ready to continue on your way." He hefted the boy upon his shoulders without another word and stalked off into the night, back to whatever hut or hovel he called home; the boy was speechless and indifferent as to his immediate fate, for he knew worse things were in the making.

The boy was settled in the man's own bed and the voice of a girl about his own age was heard from the kitchen, "how might I be of service papa?"

He was utterly overwhelmed by such kindness from people completely unknown to him, his own parents had been indifferent to his wellbeing but these gentle folk treated him as if he were their own kith and kin! As the girl hastened in with a steaming plate of food upon a tray, the lad could no longer dwell indifferently on his looming fate nor doom such kind-hearted folk to theirs unwittingly. He at last choked out, "they come! For your lives, run!"

The girl frowned at the boy and then looked a question at her father, "did he hit his head, sir?"

The man smiled slightly, took the tray from the girl, and said quietly, "nay lass, but I would speak with the lad, alone. If anything comes of it, we'll talk about it later. Off with you." She blinked at him in astonishment, but quickly did as she was bidden and dashed from the room. He then turned to look upon the boy and asked gravely, "who comes?"

"I, I, don't know exactly," said the lad fretfully, "but we were sent ahead, my three companions and I, to scout the neighborhood and prepare the way. We were promised much, if only we would do this small thing." He glanced resentfully at his bandaged leg, "at which I have had the unhappy chance to fail before it was even begun. I will die with all the rest of you."

"You know nothing, of these your masters?" said the man grimly.

"No," said the boy, "they came to my village, not long ago. Boys like ourselves, seeking any of like mind and heart, willing to do a little dirty work for a vast reward. What could I say? My own parents had no use for me, what use had I for anyone else? I eagerly agreed and thereby escaped the same doom that will soon fall upon you and yours." He glanced at the cooling food, his bandaged leg, the comfortable bed, and said quietly, "I thought all men as heartless and cruel as my own folk, but you have shown me quite differently, thus I mean to spare you from that which is to come."

"You think we have so little feeling for our own kith and kin, friends and neighbors, that we would flee in the dead of night to save our own skins, abandoning you to that fate as well?" said the man in astonishment. The boy could only shrug sheepishly and mumble something incomprehensible in apology. "Easy lad," said the man quietly, "you've hardly had a proper bringing up or exposure to people of heart and character, I can't blame you for not understanding. When do these villains come?"

The boy shivered, "we are but the scouts, sir, they may start to trickle into the village at any time. We were to scout the place out, even to the farthest flung farm, and see if there were any likeminded lads willing to take advantage of the situation, and then, once all was ready, we were to take part in the slaughter to come, thereby earning for ourselves a reward beyond description."

"And what did you hope to purchase with so much innocent blood?" asked the man in disgust.

"Immortality," whispered the boy in growing shame.

The man snorted, "all men are doomed to that fate, lad, for good or ill, but we have no right to seek it ere our appointed time. But I suppose you are as lacking in the knowledge of ancient lore as you are in your ideas of what constitutes decent and neighborly behavior. Rest easy lad, this day was not unanticipated, nor are you beyond hope yourself. Eat your supper and then take a look at that book of tales beside the bed."

The man stood and made ready to leave, asked the boy anxiously, "where are you going?"

The man smiled eagerly, "to put an end to this threat, but that is no business of yours. You have your orders and I must be about mine." And then he was gone, but before he left the house, he bolted the shutters and said to the girl, "lock the door behind me and open it for no one but me." She stared at him in astonishment, but quickly nodded her agreement as he silently left the house.

At last! Twenty years of watching had not been in vain, this night he might very well see why he had been left to ward this forgotten valley for so many quiet years. As he crept out into the darkness and lost himself in the rising mist, his features shifted to those of the injured boy, as an eager light flickered in his now youthful eyes, his guise of the old man displaced more easily than the changing of a garment. He felt it now, it drew him as strongly as a lodestone draws iron, the moment would soon be upon him.

"What are you doing here?" gasped a young voice in the darkness, "This is not your quarter! What about the plan?"

The intruder snorted wryly, "the plan?! We must adjust the plan accordingly as the prevailing circumstances dictate. We have to move, and now!"

"Why?" frowned his companion, "What has happened to necessitate changing the plan so suddenly?"

"We are betrayed!" said the imposter.

The boy could not hide his derisive laugh, "who would believe it were it even true? Tell the truth, you took a fright in the dark and don't want to be alone."

"Do you?" asked the fraud pensively.

The boy glanced about anxiously and said, "not really, no, but what does that matter? We must stick to the plan or our masters will be most displeased."

"It isn't too late," said the phony quietly, "we could just slip away into the shadows and none would be the wiser."

"They would track us down and destroy us!" said the boy in horror, "Weren't you paying attention when we took this commission? It was do or die, with particular emphasis on the latter."

"Of course," said the intruder, somewhat disappointed, but an idea suddenly occurred to him, "could we escape them, would you give up this vile plan?"

"In a heartbeat," said his companion in dismay, "I only took it in the first place to spare my life."

"Very good," said the faux conspirator, "up the hill, there's a little farmstead, just hide yourself in the barn and stay quiet until an old man comes for you. He can get us out of this muddle."

"And the others?" said the boy in astonishment.

"That depends on what our compatriots decide," said the imposter quietly.

"No," said the boy, "the ones who are to come after."

The man could not help but smile, "leave them to me. Now go!" The boy was not sure what to make of this sudden change in his companion but he had no wish to be a part of what was to come, so made no protest as to a sudden change in their plans, especially if the lad was in earnest that there was a way out. The man, still guised like his injured guest, smiled eagerly after the vanished boy and then ghosted off into the darkness, intent on his next victim. But he froze, feeling something dark and dreadful suddenly behind him in the darkness, but it only deepened the eager smile on his face.

"Treachery?" hissed a deeper shadow in the darkness, "Impressive, especially for one so short a time in my master's service. But will it end as grandly as it has begun?"

"For you, no," said the man, as he studied his foe, but there was nothing to see but darkness and the flash of fiery eyes therein.

"You are a fool!" squawked the shadow in amusement, before lunging at the traitor. The creature bit down on the boy's exposed arm, only to squeal in agony as a horrid light erupted suddenly between them, reducing the wraith to ash. Alone again in the darkness, the boy set off to find his remaining fellows.

"You can't be serious!" said the fourth lad, as the imposter broached changing the plan, "Do you know what they'll do to us all? Death won't be the worst of it!" The third boy had been even more willing than the second to make good his escape, but the last was proving to be a bit of a problem.

"You really want to go through with this?" said the fraud in dismay.

"Don't you?" growled the boy, "Who wouldn't take the power and immortality we've been offered, and at what cost? The lives of a few wretched peasants? It is not a hard choice!" He put his hand threateningly on his sword, "I won't let you ruin everything either." His smile became cruel and eager, "and I may even be doing you a favor, for our masters won't be gentle when they hear of your cowardice, or is it treachery?" He drew his sword, "what have you to say now?"

The man shook his head, "only that you have freely chosen your own doom but I will not let it be the fate of all the folk hereabouts." There came a blinding flash, and when the boy could see again, he was alone. Blinking to clear the aftereffects from his vision, he glanced about hastily but the coward was gone. Sheathing his sword, he hoped the promised reinforcements were not long in coming, for something very strange indeed was afoot this night.

The man hastened back to the little farmstead, going first to the barn to see if his two guests had arrived and remained in relative safety, but first shifting his features again to those of the old man he had been these last two decades. He found them easily enough, though they thought themselves well concealed. Said he quietly, "on your feet lads, I have a job for you, if you are truly intent on escaping this little disaster you have embroiled yourselves in?"

They crept from their hiding places, glanced nervously at one another, and then at him, the first saying, "certainly, but where are the others?"

Said the old man, "one is abed with a twisted ankle, he'll be of no material use to anyone, good or evil, this night. The other refuses to turn from his course, he is the reason that I need your help."

The boys exchanged a frown, the second saying, "what can we do?"

"You'll need to detain him somehow," said the man.

"Why can't you do it or some of the townsfolk?" asked the first suspiciously.

"I'd rather let my folk sleep undisturbed and I'll be busy elsewhere," said he quietly.

"With what?" demanded the second.

Said the man grimly, "with your former friends. Will you do it?"

"We might be killed," said the first nervously.

"That's quite true," said the man thoughtfully, "I had forgotten...well, never mind. I can't send you out, not yet, vulnerable as you are."

"So you'll take care of everything?" said the second hopefully.

"I can't," said the man, with a knowing look neither of the boys found in the least comforting, "but you can be about your business soon enough." It hardly seemed the time or place for old tales, but it was exactly what this existential crisis called for and he would not send them back into the dark in complete ignorance.

They exchanged an astonished look as they crept back out into the darkness, this night was only getting stranger by the minute, now they were to apprehend a villain who was their ally and compatriot not an hour gone, but after their encounter with the old man, they knew things would never be the same. How had such an old relic come by his information, lost among these nameless hills as he was, but regardless of the qualifications of the teller, the tale had been one to bring even the proudest King to his knees in humility and awe, and even now, it was sending them back out into the night, which would very soon be teeming with who knew what ghastly fiends beyond mortal comprehension, but the old man had said quite frankly that they need not worry about their former allies, he had the matter well in hand. Hardly believing what was happening or what they themselves were attempting, they continued their search for the fourth member of their party.

Dawn found them gathered in the old man's bedroom, a broad smile on his face and a wondering expression on that of each of the three boys; the fourth scowled and tried to rant, but the gag in his mouth only allowed him to mumble and choke for his exertions. "Well met, lads!" said the old man proudly. But sobering, he continued, "but we have only won the first night. When darkness falls anew, the creatures will return, and likely in greater force, determined to have their revenge."

Said Brin, the second lad of the previous night, glancing significantly at Kyan in the bed, "but he said you could get us out of this, were we willing?"

Before Kyan could voice his confusion, the old man said with a smile, "do you want out?"

"Well, no," said Brin a bit awkwardly, "now that I've had a taste of it, I think I would very much like to see the matter through."

Bayard nodded his eager agreement while Kyan sighed heavily, wishing he could have some part in the adventure. Tyne just scowled at the lot of them, unable to comment further thanks to that wretched gag. "Very good, my lads," said the old man joyfully, "for I will need your help." He met each gaze with his own, saying quietly, "but life as you knew it will never again be the same."

Bayard shook his head, "whatever comes of it, we could not go back, not to a so-called normal life, for those fiends would hunt us down and destroy us, no matter your assurances to the contrary."

Garren smiled wryly, "I never assured you of any such thing. I said I could get you out of your predicament and away from the Enemy's clutches, but there is only one way to escape, now that you've promised him your very souls, a promise he will not easily forget, nor your treachery either."

"What must we do?" asked Kyan from the bed, "Not that I am much use at the moment."

"It is of little matter, lad," said Garren kindly, "but each of you must deeply consider the tales of last night and what you are going to do with them."

"Make our own," said Bayard eagerly. The others nodded their keen agreement, only deepening the man's smile.

"Excellent," said he, but then he frowned at their captive, "and what of you?" Tyne snarled something dreadful, happily muted by the gag. He summoned the girl and said, "run down to the magistrate and say we have a case for him to consider, bring a couple strong lads back with you to escort our captive thither." She nodded, though her eyes chided him for not allowing her a part in this adventure, before dashing from the room. He shook his head and smiled fondly, "silly girl doesn't know what's good for her." He eyed his three eager minions intently, "and neither do you rascals."

The magistrate and a couple of his lads soon came to relieve him of the prisoner, he gave a brief statement, and then told the girl to hie herself off to a friend of hers, whose father had a farm some distance from the village. Again, her eyes reproached him, but she bade him good day and hastened off to do his bidding. He could not help but chuckle, much to the mystification of the three remaining lads. Once they were alone in the house, he gained his feet and began pacing before the bed, occasionally catching the eyes of his eager young listeners.

Said he, "consider yourselves dead men." He let them swallow hard and exchange frightened looks before continuing, "for such you are, whether you agree to what you will soon hear or should you decline and let the Enemy have his way with you. You have already dabbled in things beyond mortal ken and now it is time to pay the price, either for good or for ill. The fiends that will return tonight cannot be bested by mortal means, and I alone am not enough to defeat them all ere they wreak havoc amongst the folk hereabouts." He let his meaning sink in and continued to his now wide-eyed audience, "will you join me in this quest, forever forsaking what one might call a normal life?"

Shaking in hope and fear, Kyan whispered, "what must be done?"

"I don't believe it," said Bayard in trepidation as he crouched in the brush as evening drew on.

Brin snorted, "then what are you doing out here? Go hide under the bed like a good little heretic."

Bayard shook his head in exasperation, "I don't mean I don't believe what the old man said, I just don't believe I'm in the middle of such a tale!"

"None of us do," said Brin with smile, "but what does that matter? Now hush, or they'll hear us."

"Too late," said a dreadful warrior looming out of the shadows, half again as tall as a mortal man, "our master has little patience for such traitors. Why did you abandon your posts last night?"

The two boys stood, shaking in absolute terror, but had no answer to give and wondering if they could truly go through with this, but the monster gave them little choice. Snarled the creature, "it is of little matter, and had I not other things to do this evening, I'd enjoy nothing more than making your last moments miserable, but as it is, I am a very busy fiend!" His black sword suddenly clove the night; he left them to lie in their own blood, but the first of his night's mischief, and stalked deeper into the gathering dusk.

"This is insane!" groused Kyan, as he hopped along beside his aged companion, "I am of no material use to anyone!"

"Not yet," said Garren with a grim smile, "but there will be plenty of chances to rectify that before the night is much older."

"Ah!" scoffed a fell voice, "The old and the weak, and a traitor besides! Fitting victims for the night's first blood."

"As you wish," said the old man, drawing away from the horrified boy, who had no time to protest before the skeletal creature had cloven the lad in two. But as the fiend turned from his first victim, intent on so easy a victory with the second, it nearly dropped its sword to see that its foe was no longer an old man, but rather a grim-faced warrior with a sword in his hands. Garren made as short of work of the fiend as it had of the boy. He reached a glowing hand down and touched the remnants of his companion, saying quietly, "up lad, we have work to do."

Kyan shakily gained his feet, blinking in astonishment and unable to find words to express the astounding thoughts roiling in his mind. Garren clapped him on the shoulder and smiled broadly, "no need to say anything lad, I understand completely. Now let's go find your friends."

Hiding in the shadows, they watched the villain make short work of their fellows, but the moment he stalked off into the darkness, Garren was upon him, leaving the speechless Kyan watching from the bushes. The fiend dealt with, they turned their attention to his handiwork. It was the work of only a moment to rouse their slain companions again to waking life, or rather to something beyond it, though none of the three could yet quite comprehend the matter, but laying their confusion and wonder aside, each suddenly drew his sword, feeling some draw, strong and certain, into the deepening gloom. Said Garren with quiet eagerness, "questions must wait lads; we have work to do." He flashed them a dangerous grin and vanished into the swirling mist. The boys exchanged an intrigued grin before doing likewise.

Bayard thought he should be terrified, to be stalking such fiends in this fashion, especially as he was a veritable traitor in their ranks, but he felt such peace and confidence flooding his being that there was no room left for terror; he might as well have been stalking rabbits in the woods behind his father's farm on a sunny afternoon for all the angst his current task currently caused him. He felt something ahead, dark and terrible, his hand clenched tighter upon his sword hilt and a reckless smile grew unbidden on his face. The mist and darkness were no hindrance to him as he sought his prey, neither was the aura of sheer terror emanating from his foe. The creature loomed out of the darkness, sending an involuntary shudder through the boy's being, not for any dread of the monstrosity itself but in horror at the thought that he might very well have become such a fiend himself. At this loathsome realization, he flung himself at the wolfish monster, his disgust and fury all the greater.

They crisscrossed the valley, seeking the horrors that stalked the night, pouncing upon them with impunity. Bayard was rather amazed to discover that he did not so much run from place to place but rather he would suddenly vanish and reappear when and where he was next needed. The pale grey light of dawn was just starting to creep into the east and the boy had lost track of the number of fell creatures he had cut down in the course of the night, but he felt they must be nearing the end, for some vagrant but certain thought told him that the creatures could not stand the light of day. But as he crept over a slight rise and peered into the dell below, hoping to see his current target therein, he felt something like ice pierce his back and obliterate his heart, pinning him to the turf. He groaned once and lay still. The shadowy villain laughed triumphantly, glanced about furtively to make sure the boy was alone, and then withdrew into the retreating shadows to await the advent of night.

The next day proved to be a busy one for the old man, for not only did he have to testify before the magistrate as to why the fourth lad had been taken into custody and what should be done about it, but there was also the trifling matter of the murder to resolve. Kyan and Brin had returned to the farmhouse with the dawning, but Bayard was unaccounted for, but it was not long before an outcry was raised throughout the village that murder and worse had been wrought in the night. At first, Garren thought one of the fiends had escaped their efforts and had slain one or more of the village folk, but rather a shepherd girl had stumbled over the corpse of a young man, a stranger, as she led her flock out to pasture in the wan morning light.

His sudden relief caused his minions to look at him askance, which only deepened his amusement, "so you think me a heartless fiend, do you?" Their eyes widened at his seeming ability to read their thoughts, but he continued merrily, "and of course this is the first time any of you were struck down in the course of your duties?"

The boys exchanged a wondering, but sheepish grin, as they realized that there was far more to the tale than they had at first assumed. They then turned to Garren and shared a good laugh at their own naiveté. Sobering, he said, "this will be an interesting day. We need to get our friend back before anything odd happens, which will arouse questions we certainly don't need. And we'll also need to figure out what is to be done with your fourth companion and convince the magistrate to concur with us."

Brin frowned, "why must we involve the magistrate? Why didn't you just confront him yourself instead of sending us?"

Garren smiled wryly, "I couldn't."

Kyan gaped, "but we can overcome horrors worse than imagination can conjure! What is one mortal man, a boy at that?"

"Yes," said Garren quietly, "but that is the catch. We cannot interfere with the actions of mortal men."

Brin smiled ruefully, "and here I thought he'd be the least of our problems!"

"What is to be done with him?" asked Kyan thoughtfully, "It isn't as if he's done anything yet."

"That is the hard part," said Garren, "I thought only to keep him out of mischief until his friends were routed, after that we have no choice but to let him go, and I have no doubt he'll flee directly into the arms of your former master. I can momentarily keep his hands free of innocent blood, but if he is persistent in his desires, it will not last long."

"So what happens next?" asked Brin, "Do we stay in this valley and fight monsters every night until the end of time?"

Garren could not help but laugh, "if our enemy were that persistent, that might indeed be our plight, but as he will undoubtedly cut his losses and eventually turn his attention and resources to other, more promising plans, I do not think we have many more nights of vigilance before us. After that, who knows?"

Just then, Clara burst into the room, declaring, "you are leaving the valley?!"

Garren smiled ruefully, "easy lass, nothing is decided yet and I certainly have not forgotten you."

She crossed her arms and glared at him, "I hardly believe that, you've done nothing but send me away since these ragamuffins stumbled into our lives!"

"It's for your own good," said Garren quietly.

Said she with quiet fury, "but why do they get a part in it and I cannot?"

He smiled sadly upon the lads, "they had no choice in the matter. You, on the other hand, have your entire life before you."

She scowled at him, "just because I'm a girl is no reason you must be overprotective!"

"It isn't that at all," said he fondly, "I'd have sent you off were you the boldest lad ever to walk under sun and star. You have no idea what it is you ask."

"Then tell me!" said she.

"I can't," said he.

She sighed heavily, "so we are at an impasse? What is to come of me when you leave? I suppose you will say something sensible like I should marry some oafish village boy and we'll settle down and raise pigs and potatoes and live boringly ever after."

"Isn't that what most people want out of life?" said he with a wry grin.

"Perhaps," said she, vexed by his teasing smile, "but it has never been my dream."

"What is it you want, milady?" said Garren.

"I don't know," said she. She glanced at the silent boys and said, "I think I want what they have."

"There's no going back," said Garren quietly, "you'll never again have a chance to settle down with that village oaf or be able to raise prize pigs."

She eyed him keenly, "would you go back?"

He smiled sadly, "I had as little choice as they did. And I hardly know what it is I have begun." His smile became eager, "but no, I would not go back."

"There," said she, "you have no regrets and neither shall I."

Said he gravely, "are you willing to wager your life on that lass? For that is what it will cost you."

She evenly met his eyes and smiled slightly, "I think I can safely say yes, but come, sir, tell us your own tale that I might judge better thereby."

He snorted in amusement, "very well, that much at least I can do. If anything, it will be educational for the lads here." Said lads did not look excited about such a prospect but were quite eager to hear the enigmatic man's tale, if only to better understand their own.

He began thus, "it was about twenty years ago, by mortal reckoning, that I was of an age with yourselves." He paused to allow the disbelief to play across their faces and then continued, vastly amused, "this will be a strange tale indeed, but it is true nonetheless. So if you will be so kind as to suspend your disbelief, I will continue. As I was saying, I was just another nameless lad in a vast city, an orphan and urchin of the streets, living as best I could contrive, stealing and scrounging and barely able to survive, but I did. But as is all too common with such wretched and unloved children, I took ill and knew I had not long to live. I found what shelter I could, huddled up in a pathetic mass, and waited for death to come.

Death did come, but not in the way I had expected. It was not the simple cessation of mortal strivings, but a fiend with glowing eyes, an incarnate shadow. I did not like the feel of the creature, not in the least, and when it offered me comfort and life and freedom from pain and suffering and misery, no matter how much its words tempted me, I could not agree to do what it asked. It hissed at me, said many horrible things that I will not repeat, and then left me to die, as it had found me; it could have killed me easily, but did not wish to end my sufferings too soon. More miserable than ever, I turned my face away from the world, and waited for the end.

But the end did not come, rather another paid me an unexpected visit, but this man was far from dreadful, and without hesitation and no little awe, I allowed him to bear me whither he would. With proper care and shelter, within a few weeks, I was out of danger and well on my way to a full recovery. What then was to come of me, I did not know; how far this gentleman's generosity would extend, I had no comprehension. He might simply throw me back into the streets or perhaps he would see me properly educated or apprenticed, that I might make my way honestly in the world, but whatever he chose, he had saved my life and for that I was immensely grateful.

I did not see him often, but there was ever a nurse or some other to see to my needs and comfort and from time to time he would visit me himself and talk of many things, as my strength increased, so did the length and frequency of his visits and the depth and importance of these conversations. I had not much to tell him of myself and knew nothing of the world or its varying philosophies, but he was very willing to contribute to my own edification and I listened like one enspelled. But I did have one tale to tell, half wondering if it was real or a delirium resulting from my illness, and very curious to know what he thought upon the matter, I told him of my conversation with Death himself.

He seemed surprised, and further questioned me, and when I said I had refused the fiend's offer, he said quietly, almost to himself, "and he will not simply forget." Then he looked at me gravely and said, "your life has been salvaged from illness, but I fear you will not be left long in peace to enjoy your restored health. Death will come calling, and soon." I looked at him desperately and asked if there was nothing to be done, I had barely escaped death and was not eager to meet it again so soon. He shook his head gravely and said quietly, "there is a way, but nothing will ever again be the same."

I was elated, to be spared from death a second time, it seemed a miracle indeed. I pressed him for further details and he delved deep into the old tales, of which he had insisted I become a student during my recovery, and then he urged me to look beyond them, to a reality unutterable in mortal words. He was right, there was no turning back, I was hooked and nothing else would satisfy me."

He glanced at the girl and saw her grinning in smug triumph as he unwittingly parroted her own words, before continuing, "I gladly did as he bade me, and none too soon, for death came for me that very night, and this time it did not spare me. I awoke here, in this very bed. The ancient cottager who then dwelt here found me senseless upon his doorstep and took it upon himself to nurse me back to health. He was well rewarded for his efforts, for as soon as I was again conscious of anything, never again did the slightest sign of fatigue, pain, or illness beset me. I immediately repaid his kindness by volunteering to do those tasks around the farmstead that he could no longer manage. Together we got on quite well for half a year, until he at last retired from his mortal strivings, leaving me the sole proprietor of this fine establishment.

And I knew I had to stay, somehow, I knew myself set as a sentinel and guardian of this valley and its inhabitants. So have I dwelt quietly these twenty years, waiting for I knew not what. And in the interim, someone felt it necessary to leave a baby, a little girl, upon my doorstep one evening and ever since has she been mistress of this house." He eyed Clara fondly and said, "and so will it be yours when I am gone, if that be your wish."

Tears were in her eyes as she flung herself into his arms, saying, "only so long as you are here, is it home. If you must leave it, so too will I!"

He smiled sadly at her, "but whatever is to come, dear heart, our wanderings will in nowise bring us together very often, if ever."

"I do not care," said she fiercely, "but whatever it is you have found, let it too be my duty and service and legacy, even be we parted for all time."

He laughed heartily, "nay lass, it will not be so very long, at least not in the reckoning of eternal years, but a little while and we shall see each other once more." Mastering himself, he said more calmly, "then I will tell you what it is you must do, if your heart is truly set upon this course, as I told these rascals only last night and what was told to me just before death came stealing in." She nodded firmly, smiling eagerly, said he, "very well, dedicate yourself, from this moment onwards in life, through death, and beyond to the service of Him who wrought you."

She knelt before him, tears shining in her eyes, saying whole heartedly, "this I gladly do." He touched her forehead gently with a faintly glowing hand, as she bowed her head, then she stood and looked expectantly at him.

They stood thus for some moments, each more awkward than the other, until she could stand it no more and said, "that is all?!"

He smiled at her in vast amusement, "for now."

She shook her head, "but must I not cross mountains and raging rivers, seek a lost treasure, battle a dragon in its lair? Something, anything?"

He looked at her askance, "perhaps you have been reading too many old tales, some of them are quite fanciful indeed! There is nothing we can do of ourselves, to make us worthy of this service, nay, quite the opposite, for we must trust to One greater than ourselves to secure both our pardon and our power, and to Him alone is due all glory and honor, we are but His servants, faithful in all things."

Sighed she, "some heroine I will make!"

He grasped each of her shoulders firmly and looked her full in the face, smiling warmly, "you will do well child, just remember Whose you are and you need fear nothing more."

She nodded and smiled sheepishly, "what is next to be done?"

Said Garren briskly, "for you, whatever it is that usually consumes your time and attention, for us, we have an appointment with the magistrate and a corpse to steal."

She frowned at him, "why must I remain at home milking cows and darning socks whilst you get to go have an adventure?"

"Orders," said he with a smile, "have I not sat at home these twenty years doing just that, except I never did learn to sew, and I a full initiate of this strange brotherhood while you are just this moment sworn to this service, and have yet to enter fully into it?"

"I suppose you are right," said she reluctantly, but frowning she asked, "but what does it mean that I have not yet fully entered into this service?"

"Remember my tale," said he quietly, "and you will understand. Until then, fare you well, lass!" She looked quizzically at him, but he made no reply as he chivied the boys from the room and out of the house. She sat for some time thereafter, deep in thought, trying to puzzle out the riddle, and with a gasp, she wondered if she could truly pay that price. Perhaps it was not too late to recant.

"Who are these lads?" asked the magistrate grimly as he sat speaking alone with Garren.

Garren shook his head, "they came into the valley the evening before last, as far as I can tell, four of them together, intent on some mischief. I came upon one after he had stumbled in the dark and wrenched his ankle. He told me some of the tale and I went to seek the others. Two seemed amenable to curbing their ill intentions, but the fourth, the one you now hold captive, was still intent on wreaking whatever havoc they initially intended."

"And the murdered lad?" asked the magistrate skeptically, "I hear the three boys still at large have been residing with you."

"He was abroad last night," said Garren, "and did not return this morning."

"What was he doing abroad at such an hour?" asked the magistrate severely, "We are a quiet and sensible folk and have no use for such goings on!"

Garren shrugged, "he was about his own business and I can say no more upon the subject."

"Will his companions be any more forthcoming?" asked the magistrate rather grumpily.

Garren could not help but smile, "the lads hardly know what it is they are about; you will gain no help from that quarter."

"So what is to be done?" asked the magistrate, "I cannot hold the boy any longer without any charges in particular besides intention to do mischief nor have we a suspect for this apparent murder."

Garren sighed, "I suppose you had best release him, only I would recommend that it be far away from here and warn him not to return if he means harm to you and yours. As to the murdered youth, let me take charge of his remains, his friends at least would be glad to see to their proper disposal, and we shall continue to investigate the matter."

"I do not like it," said the magistrate, "not in the least, but I see no other course of action. I cannot say I like the boy in the least, he certainly acts and sounds like one intent on evil, if ever I met such a fellow. We shall see him on his way and warn him off besides. Take the body, it will be one less thing for me to worry about and there is no one who will fight you for the privilege. Let us just hope the killer is not still amongst us."

"Very good, sir," said Garren as he bowed himself out.

The magistrate smiled villainously, "and before you go, I would have you break the news to your prisoner, as you are the one who got me into this regrettable mess."

Garren could not help but smile, "certainly, but I doubt he will be happy to see me again, much less receive his parting instructions."

"That boy is not going to be happy about anything, so it might as well be you," said the magistrate with a grin, "you have your orders."

Garren saluted smartly and met his underlings in the adjoining room, "go fetch your friend's mortal remains and I'll meet you without, but first I must have a word with your surviving comrade."

They exchanged a nervous look, but hastened out to do as they were bidden while Garren went to break the news of his imminent departure to Tyne. The boy had been unbound and paced ceaselessly in the cramped cell he inhabited, he stopped abruptly when Garren entered, sneered Tyne, "just wait until my friends come!"

Garren shrugged, "I have little to fear from any such companions, real or imagined, but your mortal soul is in grave danger."

"Hah!" scoffed the boy, "Hoping to corrupt me as you did those three cowards? Well it won't do you any good, I know where the true power lies and you'll be as dead as that other wretch come morning, as will most of the folk hereabouts."

"Perhaps," said Garren with a wry smile, "but you will be far from here. They'll be dropping you in the next province over with strict orders not to return hither."

The boy smiled wickedly, "but what is that to me? If my friends do not finish you, you can be sure I will."

Garren nodded sadly, "until that day then." He turned and walked out of the room, his heart aching for the seemingly inevitable fate of the boy's rotten soul. He could not help but smile however as he met his junior colleagues outside, each clutching one end of their slain comrade. "Come along lads and we'll see what can be done for your friend," said he with a laugh. They vanished into the surrounding woods and laid the slain lad on the turf in a convenient clearing. Garren glanced at his underlings and smiled, "do either of you want to try your hand at raising the dead?"

The boys exchanged a startled glance but Brin stepped forward eagerly, Garren nodded encouragingly at his questioning glance, and he touched the slain Bayard, his hand beginning to glow as he touched the inert form. Bayard gasped awake, rolling onto his knees, hand grasping for his sword. He froze, studied his situation, and then smiled sheepishly as he realized the imminent threat had long passed. The others laughed joyfully, slightly at his reaction but more so to have him back amongst them.

"What happens to a fiend, once it is struck?" asked Kyan thoughtfully as they returned to the house, "Is it destroyed or is it only temporarily vanquished?"

"Your former masters were not lying when they said you would gain immortality, lad, but what they failed to tell you was that it would be a living death rather than eternal life," said he quietly, "the fiends are only temporarily inconvenienced. They, like ourselves, are creatures beyond the reach of death and time, they cannot be destroyed any more than we ourselves can."

"What of Tyne?" asked Bayard grimly, "Will our former masters not track him down and destroy him?"

Garren shook his head, "nay lad, he'll find them and joyfully join forces with them. I do not doubt he'll try to revenge himself upon all of us, whenever he is given the chance, especially after he gains the power he seeks."

Brin shuddered, "and to think such could have been our fate!"

Bayard smiled grimly, "he'll have quite the surprise when we don't roll over and die as easily as he thinks we should."

"Indeed," said Garren gravely, "these fiends are promised power and life unending and think themselves very masters of the world, but our Master has not left His world unguarded nor their evil unopposed."

"Who or what are we?" asked Brin with a frown.

Garren shook his head, "I haven't a clue what, if anything, our order is called, never having met any but the man who first drew me into it and him but briefly. As to what, that is simple: we are men, as we ever have been and ever will be." He smiled eagerly, "just beyond the inconveniences of death and time and with a few unique skills in our possession."

Kyan did not look enthused, "so this is what we are to expect: to find some distant village to ward for decades on end, just as you have done?"

"Certainly not," said Garren with a smile, "little do I know of this service, but no two of our missions will ever be the same. Who knows what any of us will get up to next, but the possibilities are boundless. Even in warding this village, my time has not been spent in vain nor has it passed tediously or slowly as you might think it would. As creatures beyond time, its passing does not weigh so heavily upon us as it does upon those still trapped in mortal flesh."

Kyan piped up, "the others said I had spoken to them that first night, but I was trapped abed with a wrenched ankle. You also spoke of yourself as being our age twenty years agone."

"You're quite perceptive lad," said Garren, as his visage suddenly changed to that of his questioner before shifting quickly back to that of the old man, "we are as little encumbered by mortal flesh as we are by time or death."

Bayard frowned, "then why was I dead for a time, if the insults and troubles of the flesh are behind us?"

Garren nodded, "I did not say you could not be inconvenienced if mortally struck, for something must come of us when overcome by our foes, and we certainly must have some physical aspect about us if we are to interact with the mortal world."

Brin said thoughtfully, "what of our phenomenal sword skills? We hardly knew one end of a sword from the other and now we can hold our own against enemies that might make a hardened knight weep with terror."

Garren said, "the skills and knowledge you need will be there when you need it."

"Except sewing," said Kyan with a laugh. Bayard gave him an odd look and he regaled him with the tale of their last meeting with Clara.

After, Garren chided, "we need clothes as little as we do food or rest, thus sewing is no requisite skill."

"What if we are undercover at a quilting bee?" asked Bayard with an impish grin.

"Then," said Garren, trying very hard to keep a straight face, "you will likely be able to hold your own with a needle."

"Quite," said Kyan, after which any attempt at conversation was pointless for a very long time to come.

For another fortnight, they ventured forth in defense of their neighbors, but eventually there were no more foes to fight, no more urge to watch the night. Suddenly they knew themselves called elsewhere in the wide world, they exchanged their farewells, all but Clara eager for what was to come. Garren held her close and bade her a teary farewell, saying gently, "easy lass, your turn will come soon enough!" Six months later, the pox swept through the valley and carried the girl off with it, or so her folk thought, but soon thereafter she herself set off upon her first quest, an eager grin on her face and an actual sword on her hip.

Wayward Sheep

"Come back lad!" called the grave voice of the elder shepherd, "That lamb isn't worth your life!" The boy shook his head grimly but continued his pursuit, knowing he was equally doomed whether he lost the wayward sheep or wandered into the gloom of the Fairywood, at least in the latter case, he had some chance of surviving, or so he hoped. With a sardonic smile of morbid amusement on his face, he plunged into the forbidden shadows, wondering again at the ironic justice of a land that considered the life of an animal more valuable than the soul of a man and hoping fervently that all he would find within this cursed wood was the renegade wether.

He was suddenly lost in utter night as he clove through the veiling vegetation on the perimeter of the wood, but gradually his eyes adapted to the ambient gloom, grim as a late autumnal twilight with a sky full of lowering clouds. He cast about for some sign, path, or landmark, but all about him was naught but grey and brown shadows, naked sticks with grasping thorns, and a glowering sense of desecration, as if the very trees brooded over this profaner of their inmost secrets. He thought to turn and flee back to the world he knew, it must only be a few steps behind him, but there was nowhere to go, no sign that the forest had an end, but rather it seemed vast and forlorn as a disquiet sea about a stranded ship, its mast broken and all hope of rescue or reaching port utterly crushed.

There was nothing to be done but to go on, for standing still would certainly avail nothing, and there was ever a faint hope that as long as he was moving, perhaps some escape or rescue was yet to be found. All thought of the missing sheep was driven from his mind by the stifling and unalterable despair that engulfed him like a fog the moment he violated this horrid wood, but it seemed the silly beast had at last thought better of its adventures and eagerly sought the only familiar aspect in this vast, alien landscape; it trotted up to the boy as if they had not left the green meadows far behind, warm and bright beneath a distant sun. But he did not glare at the beast, whose fault this was, rather he knelt in relief beside his only companion in this uncanny exile.

But it seemed the silly creature had more important things to be about than rekindling old acquaintances or comforting distraught friends, as it gave an excited bleat and dashed once more into the dim shadows. The boy stood slowly, unsure if he should follow the beast again into disaster or delve deeper into the wood on a path of his choosing, but some vague sense told him he might as well follow the troublesome creature as not, perhaps the old stories were true when they said a man could trust his horse or dog to find the right path when his own senses were stymied in choosing a way to go. With a resigned shrug, he set off after the sheep, shaking his head in wonder over such a guide.

The wether trotted along happily, as if he were treading the familiar paths of his own wide pastures, but he did not run off this time, but rather seemed intent on keeping the lad company all the way, as if he were just another sheep in the strangest of all flocks. They walked on for years, or minutes, it was hard to tell in that place, for even time itself was distorted and uneven within the Wood, but at last the sheep stopped abruptly and gazed intently ahead. The boy frowned at the odd behavior of the animal, but soon all his attention was caught by what fascinated the beast: another presence within this vast and empty wood.

But such a presence! The boy suddenly felt that all the stories must indeed be true and real while it was man himself that was the myth, the fabricated tale to amuse children ere going to bed. For there, right before his waking eyes, if this surreal nightmare could be called real, was a veritable elfin Princess. She gazed at him in as much astonishment as he looked upon her, said she at last, far more used to strange visions than a scruffy shepherd boy, "how come you here, child of men?"

The boy was shaken from his reverie, as if from a dream, said he at last, "I ventured into the Wood after this wayward lamb, but alas, cannot find my way home."

"No," said she simply, "it is not for the Wood to give you up, once it has hold of you." Her tone grew grim and sad, "only the Master of the Wood can free you, and he is in nowise gentle with mortals foolish enough to enter his demesne."

The boy nodded glumly, "I was willing to risk it, my lady, for had I lost even the least of his beasts, my master would have had me hung for a sheep thief, thus I was willing to dare this haunted wood, in hopes that perhaps there might be a chance of survival."

"You have merely exchanged a quick death for a slow," said she, miserably, "my father is not kind, not even to his own folk, how much less to the children of men?"

"What am I to do, lady?" pled the terrified boy.

"Come," said she, anxiously, "I cannot free you from the Wood, not without my father's leave, but perhaps I can send you to a place my people dare not go, thus sparing you their ill-mercies."

The boy froze, "but if your folk dare it not, what chance have I thence?"

She smiled amusedly at him, "this from the boy who would tread so thoughtlessly into the Fairywood? Come lad, you have already shown your courage, if little wisdom, this adventure shall be no worse, indeed, it may indeed be your salvation. Your doom is already assured, at least if you linger here, what have you to lose?"

"Very well," said the boy, hastening after the elfin lady, neither noticing that the sheep had vanished, for all their attention was upon the boy's plight and what was to be done to rectify the matter. "What is this place?" asked he, as they wended their way through that trackless, twilit realm.

"We call it the Deep Wood," said she, half in fear, half in awe, "it is said no creature may enter its confines and remain unchanged. That is why we fear it so, change is natural enough for the mortal denizens of the world, for their life is but a breath, a mere season amid eons, but we immortal folk, once grown, change but little though all the ages of the world pass us by." She stopped suddenly, though the boy could neither see nor sense any difference in the forest about him, but she said as if giving a final benediction to some great hero of honor and renown, "go forth boldly, child of men, do not look back or remember what has gone before, for it shall never be so again."

He froze, fearing to take another step into the mysteries waiting before him, but she hurried him on, hearing the sound of angry pursuit behind, he gave her one last, desperate look, and plunged into the Deep. "What have you done?" snarled the lady's eldest brother as his quarry vanished suddenly from all perception.

She glanced sadly at the place where the boy had been but a moment before, a tear trickling down one cheek, came a barely audible whisper, "what I had to."

"The vermin has been disposed of, at least," growled the elf warrior in irritation, "but you have ruined our fun, and I doubt father will look kindly upon your interference." She shuddered in dread as her brother stormed away, for she knew exactly what her father would think of the matter, it was only to be seen what his response would be. She gazed longingly into the Deep Wood, and wondered if perhaps the boy had not found a kinder doom, whatever it be. With a sigh, she followed after her brother, resigned to her fate.

He found her weeping and the sight smote him sore, for he knew it was for his sake that she suffered so, asked he, gently, "come Lady, why so downcast?"

She looked up in astonishment and gasped, "you have returned?"

"Even so," smiled the boy, despite the crushing ambiance of that dreadful forest, determined to quench all joy.

"Yet you are unchanged?" asked she.

The boy shook his head, "in outward appearance perhaps, but that is the least part of a soul. Now what troubles you so?"

She dried her tears, overcome with curiosity and strangely hopeful in the presence of this quietly jubilant boy, "my father has betrothed me to the Lord of the South for meddling in matters not my own."

"There can be but one escape, milady," said the boy gravely, "for that grim specter will search far and wide to find what is rightfully his."

Her smile was a strange mix of eagerness and irony, "it seems my fate is akin to your own." Her eyes narrowed, "what is your doom, sir?"

He smiled widely at her, "that I cannot tell you, my lady, for I know it not myself."

"You are a very strange creature," retorted she, "and this from one who has seen many unusual things through countless years." The boy could only smile mysteriously, making her wonder what he knew that she didn't. "Very well," said she, "it will truly be an adventure," her smile grew wry, "not that I've ever actually had one, which in itself is rather exciting." She stood and offered him her arm, "will you escort me, sir?"

He made an exquisite bow, though he had never attempted or even seen such a gesture in his life, but he hid his surprise and dutifully took her arm as they meandered back towards the Deep Wood, each silent in thought. At last, they stopped, this time, the boy could well see and feel the difference between the Fairywood and the Deep Forest, though the lady was only vaguely aware that some uncanny border existed before her, enough to warn her that once crossed, life would never again be the same. She turned to the boy with wide eyes, saying with only a hint of a smile, "perhaps we shall see one another again, sir?"

"I hope it might be so, lady," said he in quiet joy, "but whatever lurks within is far better than anything to be found in the outer world, fear not, especially when it means an escape from such horrors as is now all your future else. Farewell." Her smile was hope itself as she plunged into that mysterious Wood and vanished from all knowledge.

"Are you just going to stand there gazing at nothing?" queried the amused sheep.

The boy arched an eyebrow, "are you not the one that got me into this?"

"You're the one that chose to follow," retorted the beast.

"There is that," mused the boy, "what next is to be done?"

"Go home," said the creature.

"To be called a thief or worse?" asked the boy.

"Of course," nodded the sheep.

"This shall be interesting," grinned the boy, but the animal had vanished. The boy's smile grew rueful as he realized there was no one to listen to this intriguing statement but himself, with a shrug, he set off in search of the mythical border of the dreadful forest. He had thought to wander lost indefinitely in the unchanging confines of that cursed wood, but rather, he had taken only a few steps before he was standing again under the westering sun with a wide swath of hilly meadows, tame copses, and verdant fields opening before him. He wondered what day it was, or even if he had not vanished for years beyond count into that wretched forest like the man in the story.

No, that sheep that was no sheep had told him to go home, and he could not do that if home as he had known it was lost to space or time. So with high spirits and a vast curiosity, the boy set out upon the most mundane of all adventures: going home, but was it not actually the most intriguing adventure of all, though home as he now knew it was a far cry from the place he had dwelt among mortal men. Whatever this was, it would be a quest not soon forgotten. Though he knew death or worse awaited him, he made his way thither with all the eagerness of a lost lad hastening to his own front door.

"You've come back?!" came the eager and astonished exclamation from the aged shepherd that had cautioned him upon such a venture in the first place.

"Yes," said the boy with a grin, "I've had a few adventures in the interim, but I have found my way home at last." His grin deepened at the double meaning in that statement.

"But you lost the sheep?" asked the anxious elder shepherd.

Could he somehow explain that the 'sheep' had in fact found him? Said he as blandly as he could, "whatever I found, it was far from a strayed sheep."

"The master'll not be pleased, lad," sighed the old man, "it were better if you had not returned."

"I had to come back," said the boy, "I had no choice."

Misunderstanding his statement, the elder nodded, "I understand lad, I do, it is a dark and dangerous world and a secure place is hard to come by, but you are still in grave peril."

"I'll face the consequences," said the boy evenly, a little too unconcerned at his fate, at least as far as the ancient shepherd saw it.

"Perhaps we could hide the truth?" asked the senior sheepherder hopefully.

The boy shook his head adamantly, "I will not live a lie or ever in fear of its coming out. Whatever happens, happens, but I will face it as an honest man."

The man could not help but smile sadly at the lad's integrity, saying at last, "your sentiments are far nobler than many born into a so-called noble house. Very well, lad, let us report our missing charge and see what comes of it."

"What?" snarled their master's Steward that evening when it was reported that the least of all sheep had run off into that accursed wood and even though pursuit had been attempted, had failed utterly. "Ye shouldn't've come back, wretch," screamed the red-faced Steward at the strangely unflappable boy, "don't ye understand the trouble this will cause fer me? I'll be held accountable for the fool beast! I'll hang if ye don't." He nodded grimly to a pair of armsmen standing on either side of the door; they came forward and took hold of the boy's shoulders, nearly carrying him from the miserable little room.

The ancient shepherd bowed his head and followed in their wake, not wanting to try the nearly apoplectic Steward's wrath any longer and reap dire consequences himself. The boy awkwardly turned his head over one shoulder and grinned so impishly at the discouraged sheepherder that an inexplicable hope suddenly flared in his heart. Whatever happened, the lad would be all right, or perhaps even better than just all right. Whatever it was the boy had found in that horrid forest, the old man suddenly wanted just that himself.

The next day, the boy found himself in the back of a pony cart bound for the capital city. The ancient servant charged with taking the day's produce into town and seeing to the disposition thereof had little interest in the fate of the seeming scoundrel, but would dutifully give the lad into the keeping of the Authorities to likewise be disposed of. Bayard mused that he was just another cabbage to the elderly fellow who had been doing exactly the same thing for years beyond count, little troubling himself with the affairs of others and finding himself content therein. The journey passed pleasantly enough, considering what awaited at its end, for it was a fine day and the country was resplendent in its summer finery, but even had it been a jolting ride through that hideous forest, even still, the boy felt he would have been content thereupon. He was rather astonished that he was neither afraid, despairing, nor anxious about what was to come, changed indeed!

The old retainer handed him over to the Authorities with a mumbled explanation of sheep thievery and worse, but he couldn't be long detained with further questions, for his cabbages were spoiling by the moment and his master would have his head for such waste and inattention to his charges. Not that the jailors cared all that much, either for the sheep thief or his Lordship's cabbages, what was the fate of either to them? They tossed Bayard in a cell for a day or two until they had a cartload of scoundrels to hang and then shuffled him off again as if he were so much produce himself.

Most of the condemned were sullen and quiet, either furious or resigned, but the well dressed fellow beside him was not content to go to his untimely grave in silence, even if his only protest was to a fellow prisoner. "How can you go so easily to your doom?" asked the astonished boy.

"What choice have I?" replied Bayard, "Even though I am guilty of no crime worse than a sheep straying during my watch."

The young lord grinned wryly, "I see your plight is as pitiable as my own."

"And what is your crime, sir?" asked the boy curiously.

"Not sir, but Sire, lad," said the bound Prince with a sigh, "at least it used to be. My father pledged my service to a most dire lord, and in defying his edict, this is the end he decreed for me, traitor that he sees me."

"The Lord of the South?" gulped Bayard.

"Indeed!" said the former prince, "What can a shepherd lad know of that dread lord?"

"Little indeed, Sire," said the boy, "save that I recently met a great lady, whose father had pledge her in marriage to the fell lord and she was grieved near to death, so he must be a cruel master indeed."

"What came of the lady?" asked the prince in trepidation.

"She fled into the Deep Wood, as the elves call it," said the boy, "it was the only place to escape the reach of the villain."

The prince could not help but smile incredulously at the seeming boy beside him, who could speak such legends as if he were himself a longstanding hero of renown with a dozen stories of his own to equal those he told. Mused he, "is that how you lost your sheep: going adventuring without your lord's leave?"

"Nay, milord," grinned the boy, "it was the wayward sheep that led me such a merry chase."

"At least I die beside a man of renown," laughed the Prince, "though my father insisted I meet my end as ignominiously as any sheep thief or common lout." His mien grew grave and grim, "at least I escape the vile clutches of my sworn lord."

"Alas, brother," smirked a noble youth astride a fine horse, drawing alongside the lumbering cart, "you'll only be dead and I will have the privilege of taking both the crown and your place in the Lord of the South's service. I know father wanted you to die quietly and unmourned, but I couldn't help myself, I'll quite enjoy the spectacle." The prince glowered at his brother but refrained from pointless commentary, not wishing to spend his last moments fighting vainly with his ignoble brother. When the erstwhile prince did not reply, the boy laughed to himself and reined his horse away from the cart and vanished quickly over the hill, eager to find a prime seat for the day's entertainment.

"If only I could do something to spare the Kingdom," sighed the prince, once his brother had disappeared.

"But you can," said Bayard eagerly.

"What do you mean?" said the prince with a creased brow, hope inexplicably welling in his heart. Without a word, Bayard touched the prince's bonds; the ropes vanished with a slight flash as the prince swallowed his exclamation of surprise, lest he alert their fellow prisoners to this most intriguing situation. Said he quietly, once he had mastered himself, "now what?"

Bayard grinned like the imp he must be, possessed of magic and tales beyond mortal ken, "run, seek the Deep Wood, and there find your answers. Don't worry about me or any pursuit; we each have our duty."

"A hero indeed," said the prince in grateful wonder, but he could say no more as suddenly the cart lurched and toppled, flinging prisoners in every direction. Prince Ithril, knowing this was his chance, sprang to his feet and vanished into the overgrown copse alongside the road while the guards, driver, and prisoners were still trying to make sense of the suddenly topsy-turvy world. When it was discovered one of the dozen cads was missing, near panic almost set in amongst those in charge of the expedition, but the Prince was still accounted for, and that was the only prisoner that anyone really cared about. The dead certainly wouldn't carry tales and what was one petty thief more or less? With these comforting thoughts, the cart again jolted off to finish the day's business. The crown prince was well rewarded as he watched his brother's unjust and highly amusing end, little knowing it was rather a nameless sheep thief wearing his brother's face that had died in the Prince's stead.

"The Deep Wood?" mused the Prince to himself as he watched the wagon carrying the condemned rattle off without him. According to the stories it was no place mortal men ever ventured, unless desperate, for it was said strange things happened in that place, perhaps even stranger than the tales of the Fairywood. But then he was desperate, and the vile Lord of the South would not be content until he was either enslaved or dead. The Deep Wood it must be, but what power on earth or beyond it could hope to succeed against such terrible evil? Ithril hastened his steps, eager to find out.

Wrong Address

The wind howled cold over the moor like some wild beast, lost and alone, as Corbin tossed the last shovel full of dirt upon the grave. With sad eyes, he gazed over the grim grey land, stretching off in every direction until it joined with a sky just as morose and dull as itself upon the far horizon. It was rumored that there were brighter horizons, at least less bleak, but Corbin had never seen them, likely never would. He had lived upon the high fells his entire life and knew nothing of life beyond the ever present wind and the sheep which he tended. And now he was alone. He looked again upon the grave of the man he had called father, but who was of no blood relation, rather the aging man had one day found a squalling infant exposed upon the moors to die alone and forgotten. Though he knew nothing of children, he had taken pity upon the poor creature, thinking his mercies, though untried, must be far gentler than those of wind and wolf So Corbin had found a home and a father, which he now buried upon the lonely moor.

He glanced again at the iron clad sky as the wind snapped at his ragged cloak, feeling utterly alone in the universe, as if he were the only man left to wander the world, for in truth, that seemed all his future. "Why?" cried he to the desolate world, but no reply came but the keening of the wind. With a sigh, he shouldered his shovel and returned to the little flock, more alone and grieved of heart than ever, wondering if there was anyone there to hear.

He huddled in his cloak the next morning, sitting before a fretful fire in the lee of a hill, as the flock grazed on the flat below him. Suddenly the sound of hooves and the creak of a saddle drew him from his gloomy introspection in dismay, for riders could only mean outlaws in this wild and forgotten country. "Ho, Sheepmaster," came the lyrical and merry inquiry.

Corbin blinked blearily at the stranger, wondering if he had strayed into a dream, for this was no rogue nor scofflaw, nor anything one expected to see in the waking world. Upon further study, Corbin was quite certain he was dreaming, for the tale only grew stranger by the moment. It seemed a boy his own age, but there was no hiding the fact that the lad was an elf, if a young one, whatever that meant in their own strange count of years, but not just an elf, but an elfin knight! Or at least it seemed that way to this wretched shepherd boy who considered three huts together a veritable city. He sat astride a great horse, gaily clad in bright colors with a leather jerkin, and a great sword at his hip, if not a knight then certainly a warrior of some sort. Then came the pensive frown, what was such a personage hailing him for? And Sheepmaster? What an absurdly wonderful title!

He made a very awkward bow, which the elf lad returned with much more grace, mounted though he was, and said Corbin, "how may I be of service, sir?"

The elf boy laughed merrily, "nay, it is I that must be of service to you."

"Me?!" squawked Corbin in wonder and embarrassment, "How can that be? I am the least of nobodies!"

The elf shrugged, "what is that to me? I have my orders."

"What orders?" asked Corbin, motioning that the elf should dismount and warm himself by the fire, such as it was.

The elf shook his head, but smiled gratefully, "I'll explain upon the way, but we had best be off. You had better pack."

Corbin grinned ruefully, "sir, you find me abroad with all I own in the world. We can be off this instant if that is your desire."

"Excellent," said the elf, "then climb up with me and we'll be off."

Corbin glanced uneasily at his flock, "will I ever return for the sheep?"

The elf shook his head, "this is an adventure and heroes don't come home to tend sheep."

"Very well," said Corbin, "have we time to dispose of the flock and do a good turn thereby?"

The elf grinned, "there is ever time for kindness."

"Excellent," said Corbin, "if you would be so kind as to carry me over the next ridge and there I will arrange with a certain widow that she might benefit from my few sheep. It will be quite a blessing to the poor creature." Matters were quickly arranged, the woman quite speechless at such benevolence, and the pair was soon off upon whatever adventure the unlikely messenger intended, Corbin still convinced he yet lingered in an unwaking state. So it was they galloped off into the gloomy afternoon, adventure bent.

Said Corbin as they seemed to fly over the rocky and uneven ground aback the splendid horse, "this is rather a lengthy and realistic dream!"

"But no dream is this, but very real, my friend!" laughed the elf, "Though it seems far stranger than any vision of the night. Have you a name?" Corbin introduced himself and the elf did likewise, calling himself Ithril.

Asked Corbin, "so from whence comest thou, whither are we bound, and what say these orders of yours?"

"Have you heard no tales of these wild lands of yours and the far stranger country that lies to the north?" asked Ithril with a knowing smile.

Corbin smiled sadly, thinking of the tales his father used to tell of the fells and the lands beyond, all too fantastic for his bucolic mind to believe. Said he, "I have heard many tales of these lands and those that lie both north and south of here, but which are fancy and which the truth, I cannot tell."

"I thought as much," said the elf with a grin, "your people are fond of tales, true or not, perhaps the more fantastic the better, whereas my people know nothing but that which is true. The lands to the south steadily grow more civilized until one draws near to the Waste, wherein nothing can live, and then all is sere and barren for many a mile until the gates of the Forsaken Land beckon into irredeemable darkness and death. Your fells are vast and sparsely peopled and to the north lies a land of utter wilderness, haunted by all manner of beasts and folk of which your most fantastic tales little tell, and beyond that, lies the Mist."

Corbin shuddered, "I do not know which to fear more: the Mist or the Forsaken Land, for both are darkly spoken of in the tales of the shepherd folk."

Ithril said quietly, "it is well to fear the Forsaken Lands, for truly there is no more terrible a place upon this mortal earth, if indeed it is even a contiguous part of the mortal world, but the Mists, though shrouded in mystery, should not be ill-spoken of, especially by ignorant folk. While they are certainly terrible to mortal men, it is only the awful glory of their Master that renders them thus, for it is the terror of unspoiled beauty, joy, and wonder that will overawe any mortal man in sheer splendor and horrify those opposed to such glories, especially the foes and enemies of the Master thereof."

"You have been within the Mists!" said the boy in wonder.

Ithril smiled happily, "therein do most of my folk yet dwell, venturing forth into the mortal world only in discontent or upon our Master's errands."

"So what is your errand then?" asked Corbin with a curious smile.

"I wished to join the Knights of the Mist," said the elf eagerly, "but was sent upon this errand before my desire was granted."

"The Knights of the Mist!" said Corbin in wonder, "I thought them only a wild tale of the fells. You tell me they truly exist?!"

"Certainly," said the elf lad, "and so have we both been summoned."

Corbin blanched, "summoned? I am no warrior and of no honorable parentage!"

"What is that to them?" asked Ithril in perplexity, "We have been summoned and we will answer that call."

Corbin frowned, "but such is not the way it is done among mortal men."

Ithril laughed merrily, "this is no mere mortal affair, my friend, thus you must not expect the same rules to apply. We are bound into the Mists, and from thence a mortal man shall never return."

Corbin nearly fell off the great horse in his panic, "if death is to be my lot, why go to so much trouble? Rather end it here and now!"

"Easy," said Ithril soothingly, "you mortals are certainly a jumpy lot, at least where matters of life and death are concerned, but you need to look beyond such paltry concerns if ever you are to be successful in that which shall be asked of you."

"I do not understand," said Corbin mournfully, "if we do not ride to my death, then towards what are we racing with all the speed of the wind?"

Ithril smiled gaily, "oh, I did not say you would not die, only that there is more to life, and beyond it, than death. It is an inevitability of your mortal state, but not one that must be feared nor has my Master overlooked it. Tell me what you know of such tales, for very soon shall you find yourself therein."

Corbin shivered in dread and anticipation, still wondering at the mysteries which the elf had only begun to reveal, remembering what his father had told him many a time before a comforting fire as the wind moaned and wailed without, 'men are as restless and fretful as the wind upon the moor, lad, just as wild and full of sorrow. We would have our own way, no matter the cost, even be it death, and life, as we currently know it, is the result. You'll hear men bemoan and pine for a life that is not so full of sorrow, darkness, evil, and death, for our hearts are uneasy and restless within us, knowing such was not meant to be our lot, for once it was not so. All was good and wonderful, but man chose his own way over that of his Master and the world was broken forthwith.

The Mists came and shrouded the Bright Lands, lest they blind our now shadowed vision. The Villain, who tempted and teased man until at last he chose evil over good, selfishness over joy, himself over the Master, death over life, was cast into the very south of the world and rules now over the Forsaken Lands until at last he and death itself are cast forever into the Abyss. Mortal men dwell in between, either servants of life and light or dupes and slaves of evil and death. You must choose whom you'll serve lad, but before you do, remember, though we turned our back on Him who created everything, He has neither forgotten nor forsaken us, rather He took mortality upon Himself and came in search of His sundered children, bearing even death for our sakes. You must choose for or against Him, to merely not choose is to side with our Enemy and Death, but the choice is yours.'

Said Corbin quietly, "my father spoke some upon such matters, but I considered them as idle and fanciful as all the other tales he told of lands near and far, never had I yet taken them seriously, yet you tell me they are the very truth?"

"Indeed," said the elfin boy, "you must choose a side in this war, and soon, for you cannot enter the Mists else." He shivered, "well, you could enter them but I would not recommend it."

"I wanted them to be true," said Corbin quietly, "but how could such tales be believed by any rational man?"

Laughed the elf, "then what would you believe? From whence did man and the world come? What is the point of it? Why are your hearts restless within you and discontent with the world as you find it? A tale without a beginning or purpose is no tale at all, yet you are determined that there are such things as meaning and hope in the world, but without Something to bequeath just that to the world, how can such be true?"

"You make me think, elf," said Corbin with a laugh, "to live on in blissful ignorance is the only wish of many a man, and such I fear I might once have been, but you have made me curious and now I shall not rest until I have the answers I desire."

"I am glad," said the elf with a smile, "else this errand was in vain." They chatted on in this fashion as they galloped over the moor, Ithril answering as best he could the many and varied questions of his companion, until they were both exhausted with such postulations, but as the light was quickly failing and the horse beginning to tire, they thought it best to rest for the night and continue on again in the morning, both in their travel and in their more philosophical exercises.

As they sat before the fire, Corbin asked, "so what must I do to earn a place amongst these Knights of yours?"

Ithril shook his head, "that is just it, just as it is for my Master's offer of joy, it is not something that is earned, but rather must be humbly received. You can do nothing to save yourself, but rejoice, for my Master has done it on your behalf!"

Corbin smiled wryly, "that is the piteous predicament of our mortal strivings, ever do we base our value and worth upon our own accomplishments, possessions, or skills. It is the hardest thing in the world for us to say we are helpless and depend upon the succor of another for our hope and wellbeing, but so it is."

Ithril nodded grimly, "even some of my own folk have chosen thus, discontented with their idyllic life within the Mists, preferring rather to see what they can make of their own lives in this miserable sphere."

Corbin asked curiously, "do many of your folk seek such service as you intend?"

The boy blushed, "few indeed! Most of my folk would dwell forever away from the sorrow and death of this sphere, especially for the sake of a people that were sundered from the Master of their own accord."

"But why then do you seek it out?" asked Corbin.

Ithril grinned broadly, "I fear neither death nor discomfort and wish to be of service to my Master, in whatever He would ask of me, and this is what He has asked."

"You have seen Him then," asked Corbin, a little breathlessly.

The boy beamed, "He walks among us! We have neither sun nor star within the Mists, but rather He is the only light we need or desire."

Corbin frowned, "yet you would abandon all that to dwell among mortal men?"

The boy's eyes danced in the light of the fire, "with all my heart, for seeing the pitiable state of your folk, I cannot but hope that my service, small as it may be, might somehow relieve their plight and point them back to the source of all true hope and joy."

Corbin smiled gratefully, "then let me thank you upon the behalf of all mankind, if none else will do so." He asked quietly, "what then are these Knights and what is their service?"

Ithril shook his head, "that is known to themselves and my Master alone."

Corbin frowned, "why me?"

The elf grinned, "why not you? Who are we to question the Divine Will? Does He not know us and the future, better than ever we could? Trusting Him is the greatest adventure of all!"

Corbin yawned but asked one last question before they retired for the night, "what is our path and destination?"

Ithril said thoughtfully, "we must angle north and east until we come to the Ruins upon the very edge of the Mists, therein will we face our destiny, whatever it is. We must cross much wild and rough country, but with such a wondrous horse, it will be neither long nor difficult. Good night my friend." They turned in and rose with the dawning, upon their way once more.

For two more days they pressed steadily onwards, until they came to a great river flowing deep and fast that completely blocked their path, forcing them to follow it southwards in hopes of finding a bridge or ford. As they traveled, Corbin noticed a smudge upon the far horizon, Ithril said they were mountains and it was out of these from which the river flowed. Had they gone northwards in hopes of finding a crossing, they might just as likely have found themselves trapped in a pathless and rocky wilderness, never more to be seen among mortal men, so they turned south and hoped the river soon widened and its flow became less treacherous. For another four days they rode south along the river until at last it broadened and allowed travelers a chance of crossing via a ford. It was here they encountered their first signs of civilization, save the scattered herdsmen and hunters found in those wild lands. An inn and several houses stood along what passed for a road in those lands, adjacent to the ford.

Ithril said eagerly, "shall we pass the night among your own kind? I have a great desire to see such a gathering of your curious folk."

Corbin said uneasily, "little do I know of the ways of so-called civilized men, but I do not think they will receive either a penniless wanderer or an elf with joy."

"I suppose not," said the elf sadly, "but it is just this sort of curiosity that drew me from the Mists!"

Corbin smiled grimly, his own boldness and curiosity overcoming his previous good sense, "very well, I am equally as curious. Let us see what comes of the matter." Ithril gave him an impish smile before jumping from the saddle and dashing into the inn, Corbin close on his heels.

Corbin had been correct, the inmates of that particular inn did not look on their coming without suspicion and malice. The usually irrepressible elf deflated the moment those cold and calculating eyes focused on him, he nearly collided with Corbin, as he turned to go as suddenly as he had entered. Corbin felt the frigid stares, and concurred with his friend, though no words had passed between them. They withdrew hastily and climbed back into the saddle, hoping to cross the ford and find some hidden dell in which to safely conceal themselves for the night, but it was not to be, for they had not left the inn unpursued.

They were hardly halfway across when three cloaked men on dark horses gave chase and a bowstring sang in the twilight. Ithril gasped in pain while the great horse reared in terror, plunging them all into the river. Corbin barely maintained his hold on the horse and his friend as the water flowed fast and cold around them. Ithril gasped, an arrow in his side, "ride on my friend, ride on!" He slumped in death and Corbin wanted to cry aloud in agony, but his immediate circumstances were not very understanding of his angst and grief. The current took hold of the elf and soon swept him forever from the grasp of his friend, while the horse seemed intent on being swept downstream himself, well away from their pursuers and the dangers of the ford. With a sigh, Corbin could do nothing but cling to the saddle and let the great beast bear him whither it would, knowing nothing of horses or the equestrian arts, his heart too heavy to care.

In the dim grey light of dawn, they came ashore, cold and exhausted, but well away from those that meant them harm. Corbin lay upon the bank and wept, until exhaustion and sleep overcame him, some part of his mind hoping he might never again waken to such a world of grief and sorrow. But he did awaken and had no choice but to go on. With a sigh, he mounted the great horse once more, turning the beast north and east, as he had been bidden, obeying his friend's last command, for he had nothing behind but knew little more of what lay ahead.

His food had dwindled to nothing, his heart ached keenly, and only the hope of finding the Ruins allowed him to ride one weary day after another. The mountains towered black in the distance over a climbing plain as rocky and grim as his own moors, but in their midst stood an old ruin. As night gathered, little tendrils of mist crept out of the low places and stalked the plain like some blind predator in the depths of a cave. Could this be the place? His hope rising, Corbin kicked the weary horse to a stumbling trot in hopes of making the crumbling stone structure ere full dark. In the light of the rising moon, with the mist swirling about his feet, the place was eerie indeed, though little remained of the ancient fortress but a broken stone ring. He heard a sound of scraping feet and scuffling in the stillness of the place and focused his gaze upon this intruder into this eldritch solitude.

Said the cloaked figure, "might I ask why you have come, sir?"

Corbin dismounted and asked eagerly, "is this then the Ruin, spoken of in legend?"

The figure seemed taken aback for a moment but then nodded eagerly, "certainly sir, of a certainty it is! Do you then come seeking the legendary Knights of the Mist?"

Corbin nodded, nearly bouncing in his growing excitement, "I have thus been summoned, but lost my guide upon the way. Can you tell me what then I must do?"

"Do?!" said the cloaked figure in consternation.

The hooded man took in the boy's worn and tattered clothes and was aghast thereat, but Corbin took his implied meaning far differently, said the boy in contrition, "you are correct sir, for it is naught of my own valor or doing, but rather something that must be sought with all humility and reverence, I meant only what next is to be done?"

"Ah," said the man, still not understanding but beginning to appreciate the wondrous horse that stood at the boy's shoulder, "come kneel here in the center and we shall see what comes of the matter."

The boy nodded eagerly, "certainly."

He knelt and the man drew his sword, raising it high and proclaiming, "have now your due!" as he thrust it into the boy's unprotected back. Corbin's eyes widened in pain and surprise, and as the darkness seized him, he realized he had erred horribly. The wondrous horse reared and screamed his horror before fleeing with all his uncanny speed, thus depriving the man of the only prize he could have gained by such treachery.

Snarling as he cleaned his bloodied blade, he shuddered in inadvertent horror as his gaze was drawn inexorably to a great raven perched upon the crumbling wall, croaked the bird in malicious glee, "this is an amusing little scheme if ever I saw one. Continue on in like manner and you will be handsomely rewarded. Send all true supplicants to their well-deserved graves and knight the haughty and proud into the Mist." The bird flew off with a raucous laugh, leaving the man to smile in cruel delight as a profitable scheme materialized in his mind.

He dragged the unmoving form out of the ruins and dumped it unceremoniously into one of the many rills that crisscrossed that uncharted land. Once the hooded figure vanished with distance, the little fingers of mist playing along the edge of the gully began to thicken, drew together, and glowed with a light all their own. The figure of an elfin boy stepped out of the gathering mist and sadly peered down into the wash at the dark figure below. With an agility strange even for the elfin folk, he descended into the ditch and climbed out, dragging his morbid prize. Tossing his head excitedly, the great horse met him at the top, but did not whinny in triumph as he wished, for his late master motioned him to silence. Ithril climbed aback the eager horse, his grim burden before him, as all three dissolved into mist and moonlight.

An ancient elf sat upon a stone just outside the ruins of a once marvelous castle, once the pride of the ancient world, but now half draped in the uncanny Mists. He shook his head when a certain young elf stepped out of the mists with the mortal remains of his friend. "It won't do lad!" warned the elder of the pair, "It will avail you nothing!"

"But he was summoned!" said the boy in dismay, "I must try at least."

The older elf said with a sigh, "have it your way, but do not say I did not warn you."

The boy nodded, "thank you."

The man shook his head and returned to his contemplative study of the night, wondering what the world was coming to in these latter days, forgetting what it was to have been young. It was not that the world had changed so very much but rather he had forgotten how it had always been.

Ithril entered the Ruins and lay the corpse upon a stone, the Mists tenderly wrapping themselves about him as they drifted past in their varying tendrils, threads, and veils, but no change was wrought in the still form, it continued to lay there as unmoving as the stone upon which it lay. With a sigh, the boy went to his knees beside his murdered friend and wept out his prayers that things might be otherwise, but still lay the form, as it seemed likely to do until it had rotted to the dust from which it had been wrought.

Ithril felt a gentle hand on one shoulder and looked up into the amused face of the ancient elf, who grinned, "I told you it would avail nothing."

Ithril sighed heavily, "but how can you find such joy in my dismay?"

The elf chuckled, "it is not your dismay that amuses me but rather your backwards and ineffectual method of going about things. I told you this would avail nothing, but I never said all was lost." He smiled knowingly and seemed to exchange an amused smile with someone Ithril could not see.

The boy frowned as he stood, turning to face this unknown personage and gaped in utter astonishment, before crying aloud in joy and wonder, "why did you not tell me?"

The ancient elf chortled, "because you did not take the time to ask, for you would do it no way but your own."

Corbin stood there, the Mist swirling about him, smiling in delight at seeing his sundered friend and in vast amusement at his discomfiture, said he, warmly embracing his friend, "now let's go have a proper adventure!" Ithril could only smile in utter delight.

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

Sample Chapters of 'Shadow of the Unicorn,' the first in the 'In Shadow,' series:

### 1

Jace stood upon the battlements, staring, though unseeing, out upon the bleak grey landscape of the failing year ere snow covered and softened the weary land for its winter repose. Leaden clouds lowered ominously on the horizon while a mournful wind moaned pitiably in the half completed towers of the grotesque fortress; the river passed sullenly by without comment, preoccupied with its looming icy imprisonment. Though only partially complete, the grim fortress was already falling to ruin, as were the souls who lingered therein. The place was hardly cheerful, even upon a bright morning of spring, and was at its most dismal ere the first snows of winter, but it was not the weather that brought the boy out to pace the battlements upon such a dreary day, rather he had much to contemplate and none of it good. His patched cloak flapped wildly in the wind but he little noticed, for his thoughts were just as unruly. His grandfather, a nobleman displaced by war, had laid the foundations of this ruin and his father had further built up the fortress after its founder's untimely death, but the family fortune had run out long before the project was finished, so it moldered in half-completed splendor while its occupants dwelt ever in the shadow of poverty and isolation, and now it seemed, madness as well.

Jace's father was but a boy when war forced the family to flee with what they could salvage of their wealth. The patriarch was determined to start anew in a strange land, much to the dismay of the locals, but they were a rather peaceful folk and he began his project without asking their permission, and as they were notorious for their willingness to forgive, the project continued despite their misgivings. But tragedy struck the third winter the family spent in their new home, for both of Jace's grandparents died of pneumonia within a fortnight of one another, leaving their son, still very much a boy, alone in the grim fortress with only a few faithful servants and guards that had accompanied the family in its flight, for they trusted no one in this strange land, least of all those of common descent. But the boy was not crushed by his loss, but rather was as determined, perhaps more so, than his father to finish the project and become a veritable lord in this strange land, the protests of the original inhabitants aside.

Construction continued slowly as the boy grew to manhood and the family fortune dwindled, but surely the son of a nobleman might make a proper match and thereby reinvigorate his fortune as well as perpetuate his line. So it was that Jace's father went a-courting and soon came home with his beautiful and captivating bride, the very picture of a wealthy lady, but only a picture, for though of noble blood, her family was as destitute as that of her new husband, though neither had thought to broach the subject before their marriage, assuming the other was indeed as rich as they portrayed themselves to be. The truth came out very soon after Jace was born; the ensuing fight was the stuff of legend, at least if you believe the tales told in after years by the aging servants, but in the end, the lady fled, leaving her infant son and husband to fend for themselves. The man looked coldly upon the boy, who was so like his mother in form and feature that he could not help but despise him. He turned his back on the child, stared stonily at the open door out which his wife had fled, and then withdrew to his own chambers. Had one of the few remaining servants not taken pity upon the poor creature, he likely would not have survived infancy.

The man seemed indifferent to the fate of his son, pretending that he did not even exist and focusing all his time, thought, and energy on his project instead, but there was no money to pay workmen or buy stone and timber, so the man had to do everything himself. Only two servants remained of the few that had fled with the family, lingering on out of faithfulness and because they had nowhere else to go, for their lord had long since ceased to pay them. The old housekeeper did the cooking, looked after the domestic side of things, and was the only mother the boy ever knew. The other was an aging guardsman who had taken on the duties of butler, valet, and jack-of-all-trades; it was he that taught the boy what little he knew of reading and more importantly, to his mind at least, the sword. The rest of the lad's education was left to what he could glean from the few books that lay forgotten around the fortress and what the housekeeper could impart in the form of old stories as she wandered about the keep seeing to her myriad duties.

As the boy neared manhood, at last his father took a modicum of interest in him, but whether it was due to some newly realized desire for kith and kin in his fading years or because his rheumatism forced him to abandon his fortress building activities, none knew. But one day the master of the ruin summoned the lad into his chambers, where he sat in relative splendor in a fraying robe with a moth-eaten velvet chair for a throne. Upon the lad's entrance, the man studied him as he might a horse he had a mind to buy. After several minutes of dreadful silence, the man said at last, "what do they call you boy?"

The lad blinked in surprise that his father did not even know his name, but his servile foster parents had taught him courtesy, if little else, said he with a proper bow, "I am called Jace, sir."

The man nodded as if it were of no matter and continued, "very well boy, they say you are my son, a claim I cannot verify yet neither can I fully deny it. In either case, it is high time you started to earn your keep around here. My father had a vision that this castle would one day tower over the surrounding countryside and herein would his descendants be safe from war, plague, and the like, nevermore to be driven like refugees from that which was rightfully our own. This is all my purpose and destiny and it shall be yours, whether you like it or not. You will take up where I have left off: cutting timber, collecting stone, using it to finish what my father began, well?"

The boy gaped, was this to be all his future? A slave to another man's futile dream?

The man shook his head sadly, "I see you are not a man of vision, like unto mine, a pity, for I think it proves that you are not my son after all. I will give you the afternoon to ponder your future, either submit yourself to my father's dream and fulfill your true purpose in this life or get you gone from here, never to return." The boy gave a perfect bow and vanished from the room, fleeing to the battlements to mull over his future, whatever it might be.

Night was falling and still he had found no sensible reply for the grim man waiting impatiently in his chambers below, prematurely aged by labor, sorrow, and unrestrained ambition. Jace glanced uneasily out upon the darkening world, could he truly find a life out there in the world that had forsaken his family, from whose stock had sprung his faithless mother? Yet he knew he could not remain forever a slave to his grandfather's dream as his father had ever been. What was he to do? Where was he to go? The outside world terrified him, but could he live on for countless years in futile toil? He wanted to scream or weep and came very close to doing both, but his reeling thoughts were interrupted by a stooping ghost that loomed out of the darkness before him.

Came the gruff but concerned voice of the guardsman, "what troubles thee lad? The master sent me to find ye, he is impatient for yer answer."

The boy glanced silently out into the darkness and the man nodded in grave understanding, "aye, it is a hard choice, but no choice at all I think. This cursed place has consumed two generations of yer family lad, don't be a fool and make it three. Whatever horrors lay without, they can be nothing to what lurks herein."

The boy nodded his silent thanks and then went to find his father, knowing the man had spoken truly. He knocked timidly upon the door and entered upon the gruff command to do so. He found his father standing before the hearth, staring into the flames, his hands clasped at his back; he did not turn around or even look at the boy, said he, "a harlot's son, through and through, cannot even stay on to succor an aging wreck of a man in his failing years, the selfish, selfish wretch." Suddenly the man turned, his anger giving him strength and speed that years of hard labor had stolen, he took up an iron poker that lay to hand and his eyes seemed to blaze with the light of the fire at his back, snarled he, hefting the poker aloft, "Out! Out! Get out, you insolent oaf!"

The boy knew the man was in earnest and half out of his mind besides, lingering not a moment longer, he turned and fled the chamber and hied himself that moment from the crumbling keep. The housekeeper and guardsman watched him flee with sad eyes, shook their heads in dismay, but had known for many a year that there could be no other end to the tale, but at least this wretched fortress would not utterly consume the boy as it had his forbears, what the outside world might do to him was another matter entirely.

Jace fled with only the clothes on his back, packing was of little matter as he was currently wearing everything he possessed. His only thought was to escape the broken dreams and empty years that lay behind with no concern for what the morrow might hold, for he knew nothing of purpose, joy, peace, hope, or comfort. His world was as cold and lonely as the fortress he had just fled. A miserable drizzle began to fall not long after his flight, forcing him to seek what shelter he could beneath a clump of spruce trees that seemed to huddle together for comfort amid the cold, wet dark. Every fiber of Jace's being cried out to do the same, but one cannot comfortably cuddle with a conifer so there was nothing left to be done but cry himself to sleep.

A wan shaft of sunlight filtered down through the clouds and pierced the fastness of the boy's retreat, bringing him blinkingly awake. He sighed heavily as he gained his feet, seeing no reason to go on save that he was too anxious and grieved of heart to sit still. So off he went into the dawning, grateful that the rain had stopped and that he could now see whither he fled. Which got him to wondering where exactly he was to go. He knew nothing of the outside world, save for forays with the guardsman into the surrounding forest to collect wood or to hunt. He had never even seen a farmer's cot, let alone a village. He had heard the housekeeper mention a city once, a concept he could not quite comprehend, but he was not sure he wanted to venture thither, for she had spoken of it in hushed tones one night with the guardsman as they sat before the kitchen fire, certain the lad was abed and not hiding in the doorway, listening in horrified fascination as she described the demon-worshippers that dwelt therein and the horrid practices with which they maintained their uncanny powers.

He smiled grimly to himself, pondering what was best to be done, as his feet followed a game trail seemingly of their own accord, so little did he notice or care whither his path led. He could wander out into the wilderness and undoubtedly die of exposure or starvation during the coming winter or he could find this city and see if the housekeeper's awful tales were even half true. It might be death either way, but at least he could discover what a city was ere the end. With this grim acceptance, did he suddenly step out of the surrounding woods and look upon a great swath of cultivated land, dotted with farmhouses and well-tended copses, and in the distance loomed the infamous city. He had inherited a little of his father's ambition, so with a grim smile pasted on his face did he set out in quest of what could only be his doom.

His smile became incongruous as his journey progressed in a rather anticlimactic fashion, for though he had prepared himself for sights grim and terrible, the countryside was rather picturesque and the few folk he observed in passing seemed as sensible and down-to-earth as either the guardsman or the housekeeper. He consoled himself with the thought that of course the commonfolk would be of similar disposition to the menials with which he was acquainted, it was only their fell masters that would be workers of such foul magicks. He hastened his steps to discover this inevitability for himself but was again sorely disappointed. He soon found himself in a veritable flood of humanity headed for the city to conduct the day's business. People at first trickled in from the outlying farms and villages but soon converged upon the main road leading into the city.

Jace gazed about him in wonder, never having imagined there could be so many people upon the face of the earth, let alone upon one certain stretch of road. The houses and shops that began to line the way were also strange to his eyes and he goggled like the yokel he was; some of the more world-weary passersby about him smiled in welcome amusement at the lad's befuddlement, for a moment remembering their own forgotten youth. A veritable city had grown up around the walls of the original settlement and many of Jace's fellow travelers vanished into the labyrinthine streets and alleys upon their own errands, but most continued on through the gates, few even glancing at the guards who stood silent watch at the gates and upon the walls, but the boy froze in fascinated terror. His sudden halt brought a few complaints and jostles from those nearest him, but they shoved around him and continued on their way, some giving him a meaningful glare but most shaking their heads in vast amusement.

So too did those fell warriors eye the boy with smiles that never broke the stony facade of their faces. But as more and more people pushed by the lad and entered the gates unscathed, he drew a deep breath and pressed ever onwards into the heart of a city inhabited by sorcerers and worse, though strangely, none of the folk about him seemed overly concerned about their impending doom. He was drawn inexorably to the center of the city where a great castle towered over everything. For a long time he stood as one transfixed, staring up and up and up at the edifice that soared above him. A rueful smile split his lips, for even had he and his descendants ten generations hence worked ceaselessly, never could they hope to make anything like this of that horrid fortress. And thence lay his doom. At last, he gathered his courage and set forth upon the last leg of his final journey, thinking it quite a heroic effort on his part and not a little disappointed that there was not a bard or poet at hand to record the tale. Most of his erstwhile companions had vanished long ago into the city proper and left the bumpkin to stare as he would. So it was that he came to the castle gates and found himself very much alone with a whole host of those grim faced guards just waiting to make a gory end of him. Where was a poet when you needed one?

He stood awkwardly out of the way, studying those who guarded the gates and those who came and went upon their own errands, not finding anything too sinister in any of it. Again rather disappointed, the lad at last made his own approach, knowing his courage was hanging by a thread. His first attempt at speaking failed dismally with the guard looking at him in perplexity and what might, to Jace's horrified mind, be pity!

But the guard saved him from further embarrassment and possible flight by asking, "what can I do for you lad?" He actually smiled, "you need not be so terrified, you are quite safe within the confines of Astoria."

The boy blinked in utter astonishment, could this fearsome warrior truly be speaking to him, and with kindness? Demon-worshippers indeed! Said he at last, a quaver in his voice, "I am in desperate straits, sir, but well know that there is little hope for one such as I in this cold, indifferent world."

The guard nodded in understanding and said gently, "aye lad, many come hither with just such a tale, but take heart, for we shall do all we can to remedy your plight, whatever it be." Jace looked near to fainting with hunger and astonishment, as the man motioned for a servant standing within the courtyard to take charge of the flummoxed lad and see to his comfort. The servant smiled in amusement, having done the same a thousand times before, and easily guided the gaping boy into the castle proper, leaving the guard to speak with the next person awaiting his attention.

At last Jace collected his wits enough to comprehend what the servant was saying, "the morning meal has just finished, but I can bring you something once you are settled." He studied the lad's ragged attire that was more patches than original cloth and smiled wryly, "and I'll see to your wardrobe as well. Have you come to study then?"

Jace froze and studied the man as if he had asked if his father were a toad, said he in astonishment, "study? You must know I could little afford such a luxury!"

The servant grinned, "I suppose it is priceless at that, but come lad, anyone is free to study in Astoria and all the Lady asks is that you abide by her rules whilst you reside in the city."

The boy gaped anew, but a smile danced in his eyes, said he with an incredulous grin, "then I will certainly take you up on that offer, sir." The servant nodded as if it were simple sense and they continued on their way.

He stopped before a door at the end of a long corridor and said, "you can sleep here for now, this room is currently unoccupied but if you stay very long, you will undoubtedly find yourself with roommates rather soon. I'll see about finding you something to eat and some appropriate attire." He smiled broadly as he turned to go, "welcome to Astoria!"

The boy stared wistfully after the retreating form for a moment and then curiously opened the door and entered the room. Glancing about at the small but comfortable chamber, he laughed aloud and said, "demon worshippers indeed!"

"How dreadful!" came a startled and unfamiliar voice.

Jace turned around in surprise to find a girl about his own age, or at least so he assumed, not having much experience in such matters, peeping round the door, a broom forgotten in one hand. She squeaked in dismay, "forgive me, I was just sweeping the hall when I heard your outburst and just had to investigate." She blushed crimson at her own unseemly outburst and though she colored further, pressed on, "can you tell me more about these demon worshippers?"

Jace was not sure whether he was more startled, annoyed, or amused by this perplexing creature, but said as calmly as he could, "I haven't much to tell, for I was only laughing at the incongruity of this place with a description I once heard of it. The old woman was convinced this place was naught but a den of such villains, but I have yet to find them, should they exist."

Briane laughed excitedly, clasping her hands like a little girl, "oh, you will have to look long and hard to find such in Astoria. I have been here all my life and have never heard of such goings on."

Jace smiled wryly at his previous eagerness, "so there isn't anyone in Astoria possessed of uncanny abilities as my unenlightened source assumed?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," came the voice of the returning servant. He gave the girl a patient look, "have you not things to be about?" She squeaked again, dropped a curtsy, and disappeared round the corner with a death grip on her broom. The servant shook his head and smiled ruefully, "the silly girl spends more time eavesdropping than attending to her chores; more curiosity than a cat, has that one."

Jace was gaping again, but the servant ignored him and thrust a pile of clothes and a tray of food into his hands, saying as he did so, "as promised, here is your breakfast and a change of clothes. If you hurry, you can just make it to the next class session. You'll have an official schedule soon, but until then you had best tag alone with some of the other Students." He smiled impishly, "and as to your unasked question, you'll soon discover the answers for yourself if you pay attention in class." He nodded at the boy and vanished about his interrupted errands.

Jace shook himself, frowned in consternation at the servant's retreating back, and then hastily changed his clothes and wolfed down the food, both from hunger and eager to begin his education. Only then did he realize he was alone in an unfamiliar castle with no idea where to find said classes. He shrugged, smiled as his audacity reared its head once more, and dashed down the hall in search of a class or an adventure, whichever came first.

He nearly collided with a pair of slightly older boys as he came careening around the corner, determined not to be late. Suddenly ill at ease, Jace muttered his apologies and stared at his feet. One of the older lads must have heard, 'new here,' amongst Jace's mumbling for he cheerily replied, "don't worry about it! Come with us and we'll help you get settled."

The boy stared up in astonishment, gaping yet again, stuttered he, "how can this be? How can you be bothered with helping me? I don't understand?"

The older pair exchanged a grin, then Adan, the lad who had spoken, clapped the younger boy on the back and smiled, "it seems you have much to learn about life in Astoria. Wherever you came from, it must have been a rough life. But come, else we'll be late." Jace smiled at his reassuring words and then blanched in near panic at the thought of being the cause of their tardiness. The older pair shook their heads in amusement but all three hastened off to class.

Jace remembered little of that first lesson, so overwhelmed was he with all that had happened in the last day and all the novel sights and experiences he had taken in. His erstwhile guides were assigned chores in the stable the following hour, which allowed the overwrought Jace some much needed time to sit and think while his companions shoveled muck. The midday meal offered another course of novelty and wonder to Jace's abused sensibilities, never in his life had he been amidst so many people, and most astonishingly of all, though complete strangers, they actually seemed to care about him. Another round of classes was set for the afternoon, but Jace felt he needed some time alone to sort everything out, and perhaps even a nap after his difficult night. He goggled, less than a full day had passed since his father had cast him out, alone in the night. Adan nodded his understanding and showed him back to the corridor that housed his room, and though he valiantly intended to contemplate upon all that had happened, he fell promptly and soundly asleep.

2

A ruckus in the hall wakened the boy as the eager Students returned to their rooms after their last class before going to the evening meal. Jace glanced blearily about, wondering for a moment where he was, but suddenly realization dawned and a great smile lit his face. He had come home at last. He adjusted his rumpled clothing, grateful it was not too wrinkled from his nap and ran a hand through his hair, it would do, then dashed excitedly from the room, again nearly colliding with Adan, who smiled roguishly at the boy and hoped such behavior was not becoming a habit. Said the elder lad with a grin, "it is good to see you so refreshed, you looked rather stunned when we parted and I know you learned nothing in class today, but it seems there is hope for you yet."

Jace smiled ruefully, "it has been quite a day." He glanced hopefully in the direction of the dining hall, even after so short a stay he had become very much accustomed to being fed regularly and well, which was an unlikely occurrence in his former life, said he, "and I'd be happy to tell you all the tale over the evening meal, that is if you care to hear it."

Adan laughed outright, "aye, it must be quite a story indeed, but fear not, there shall be plenty of food to go around."

Jace colored and began studying his boots, abashed that his greatest desire at the moment was so blatantly obvious. Adan glanced at said boots as well and frowned, "but first we had best stop by the supply room and find you a decent pair of boots."

Jace looked up suddenly in surprise, would the miracles in this place never cease? He had never owned a decent pair of boots, this particular pair had been worn by his father when he fled his homeland, ages ago! Adan smiled warmly at the look of grateful astonishment in the lad's eyes and led the way, eager to see the wish fulfilled. The servant in charge of the supply room at that hour took one look at the antique footwear, turned away with a disgusted groan, and vanished into the storage area, reappearing with a worn, but quite serviceable pair of boots that actually fit the agape lad. Rather pleased with himself, the servant smiled smugly and reluctantly took the ancient boots in exchange, his countenance taking on an unruly expression as he did so, their fate remains a mystery to this day but judging from his face, it was not a pleasant one.

As they walked to the dining hall, Jace remarked with an awe tinged voice, "I have never encountered such generosity, not even from my own folk!"

Adan shook his head, his eyes sparkling, "you've seen nothing yet, all we've done this day is see you properly clothed and fed."

Jace froze mid-step and faced his companion, "there's more?!"

Adan clapped him on the shoulder and smiled, "aye, more than you can begin to imagine." They continued on, Jace speechless in incomprehension.

As they sat at table, finishing their food, Jace told his tale, much to the horror and astonishment of Adan and his friends who had joined them for supper. No wonder the boy was so grateful for the least bit of kindness or attention! Adan said at last, "so that is the tale behind that ugly heap of rocks up river? Long have we theorized amongst ourselves about who or what had built it, or rather begun it, and why. It is a grim enough story in its own right." He smiled ruefully, "though nowhere near as horrific as some of the tales we've birthed."

The others shared a wry laugh and eyed their companion with both pity and wonder, Jace awkwardly studied his peas, uneasy being the focus of such attention. Adan continued, more to distract his companions away from their study of the abashed boy than for anything else, "well, this is the place to start over or start anew, if that is your wish. Any idea what you want to do with your life?"

Jace could not restrain his laugh, "it was but a day ago my father cast me out and I encountered true human society for the first time in my life, let alone human kindness. Must I already know the course of my future?"

The others joined in his mirth, forgetting how high were the expectations of their hosts and thus, inadvertently perhaps, their own. Once the laughter had subsided, Jace asked a bit timidly, still uneasy speaking his mind amongst so many strangers, "what is this place? Who founded it? How can they afford to support so many ragamuffin students with no expectation of remuneration? Is there some hidden agenda or trap, for it seems too good to be true?"

Adan smiled, "rest easy my friend, there is nothing sinister or hidden here. You may stay as long as you wish and leave likewise. The only requirement is that you do your best, be respectful of others, and follow the rules as best you can. According to legend, Astoria was founded centuries ago, near the very Beginning. The country is self-sufficient and quite prosperous in its own right, but is also supported by various Kings, Lords, and wealthy benefactors who believe in its mission or have benefited from its services themselves. They have been educating all comers since its foundations were laid."

Jace nodded thoughtfully, "a noble cause I suppose, but who founded it and why? My experience of the world is limited, but I do not see blind philanthropy as a common trait amongst men, someone must have had a reason."

Adan studied his companion thoughtfully, trying to gage his reaction to what was to come, said he at last, "you will learn far more in your initial classes, but the simple answer is: the Master Himself provided for the city's founding as a home for the Brethren and those they serve."

Jace blinked, not having imagined the so far sensible Adan to be one who believed in fairy tales, said he in consternation, "that is what the legends say?"

Adan grinned, "you are a skeptic then?"

Jace shrugged somewhat sheepishly, though he was not the one who seriously thought myth had once walked about under sun and star, "I suppose, though I know little enough of the subject, and of all else for that matter, that I should withhold judgment until I am certain."

Adan nodded, "fair enough, but don't worry, there is no requirement to believe a certain way to study here. Even if you hold it all to be a tall tale, there is still more wisdom to be garnered here than you'll be able to absorb in a lifetime."

Jace smiled in relief, "that is good to know." He frowned thoughtfully, "I met a servant earlier who made a rather cryptic comment about certain individuals around this place having uncanny abilities, but he said I would have to wait for my classes to answer my questions in that regard. Our old housekeeper was convinced the city was inhabited by demon-worshippers, a claim I am certain is wrong, but what is the truth about this place and its denizens?"

Adan smiled in amusement at the servant's evasiveness, he was pretty certain who it was the lad had met, but he said, "the Brethren are purported to have certain gifts given to them in their service to the Master, you will learn far more in days to come if you want specifics, but there is nothing evil in the mix. Uncanny yes, miraculous certainly, but not demonic." He smiled impishly, "how is it you can believe in demons but not the Master?"

Jace frowned at the thought and then smiled ironically, "that is an incongruous thought! But then, I am not sure I believe in demons either, it was just something I overheard and never gave much serious thought until I was bound hither in the dark, alone, after being cast out from all I ever knew. I guess the imagination is prone to embracing the grim and frightening with far less reluctance, especially under such circumstances, than the rational mind is in accepting the supernatural in far more congenial surroundings."

Adan smiled broadly, "my friend, you have come to the right place, for yours is a mind quick and ready to absorb all available wisdom and knowledge, and here you will undoubtedly find ample fodder for thought."

They continued their conversation upon more general topics, for which Jace was thankful, little liking being the center of attention when he was so little used to it; so absorbed was he in all that was said that he did not notice Briane sitting on the edge of the group, studying him with sparkling eyes and a knowing half-smile upon her lips.

Adan saw him back to his quarters after the meal, for even with his nap, Jace was exhausted though sorely disappointed not to be able to participate in the games and conversations held amongst the students that evening, but such was the ritual every night, so he consoled himself with the thought that there was always tomorrow and many days thereafter. Yawning, he bid goodnight to his companion, and was soon asleep.

Sample Story from 'Over the Hills and Far Away:'

' _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~

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 known to be 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 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 or 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 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 attention 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, but 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, and 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 well loved 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 morning in spring. 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 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 clan and the grim fate that had undoubtedly befallen them, but I can assure you, they were all of them wrong.

### Chapter Sample of The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book I:

Long ago, when the world was young and men still walked in innocence, an ancient king made an alliance with the terrible god of war. In exchange for the life of his maiden daughter, he would receive power to conquer all the kingdoms of men and have dominion over all mortal lives. The night was dark with neither star nor moon giving light or hope to those who gathered upon the face of that forbidden hill to commence with their evil deed. The king had gathered all of his generals and advisors to stand as witnesses. The girl was brought forward and the hood removed from her head. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she stared with pleading eyes into the cold and remorseless depths of her father's eyes. She saw neither love nor regret there, only a thirst for power beyond the reach of mortal ken. He drew forth a cruel knife from a sheath of black leather. Very soon the alliance would be sealed and no power on earth could withstand him. He approached the girl with a cruel and mirthless smile and raised the blade to strike.

He was thrown back from the girl and blinded by a cold light, and all standing around the pair fell to the ground in fear. Like a bolt of lightning, a bright and terrible figure stood between the man and his prey. The king regained his footing with a sneer and a triumphant laugh. "You have no authority here," he scoffed, "be gone before I become violent."

The light receded slightly and those standing about could make out a vaguely equine shape amidst the glow. The figure reared up on its hind legs and pawed the air. He appeared in the form of a horse but with the awe reserved for a charging bull or roaring lion. Then he spoke, "you must not do this terrible thing. You will forever tear apart the laws that bind the world together."

"I will do as I please," scowled the king, "and there is nothing you can do to stop me."

"If you are set upon this course I cannot stop you by force, but perhaps I can offer you an exchange," said the figure.

"What can you possibly offer me," growled the king with the light of avarice in his eyes.

"The foul demon with whom you are dealing demands innocent blood for your vile contract, so be it! Take mine instead of the girl's," said the mysterious figure.

"Yours!" gasped the king, "but of what advantage is that to you?"

"To ransom the life of this dear child shall be gain enough," said the figure.

"Very well," said the king. "I have a feeling my master will be quite pleased with the exchange. What is one small child when the blood of his enemy is laid at his feet? What are your terms?"

"Give me one hour to bear this child to safety, then I will return hither and you may do as we have agreed," said the figure.

"How do I know you will not steal the child and disappear?" asked the king.

"You know very well I do not lie," roared the figure. He swept the child onto his back and as the light disappeared over the rim of the hill called back, "in one hour I shall return."

For a time the girl clung silently to the back of her rescuer but as the horror of what she had so nearly escaped sunk in she began to sob uncontrollably. "Do not weep little one," said the figure, "you are safe and all will be well."

"How can you say that?" sobbed the girl, "evil is about to be unleashed upon the earth and no one will be able to stop it."

"I can," said he softly. A sense of immense peace fell upon the girl and dried her tears. Shortly, they approached a small cottage by the edge of a little stream that chattered invisibly in the night. A woman emerged from the door and wrapped a blanket around the quivering form of the girl. She bowed once to the retreating figure and took the child into the house. The girl fell into bed and knew no more that night. The woman stared into the darkness, tears streaming down her cheeks. Within the hour agreed upon, the figure returned to that forsaken hilltop. His light was dimmed to the slight flickering of a dying candle. He stood before the men with a drooping head but a righteous fire blazed in his eyes. The king laughed him to scorn, drew his blade, and approached the apparently cowed creature. Steel flickered in the light as the blade struck home. The light dimmed and went out. As if from a vast distance, a great wailing cry rent the night, as if the earth itself had been mortally wounded by the blow. A wind came howling out of the west and clouds blotted out the sky. Darkness engulfed the world, lightning flashed in the heavens, and thunder rolled as if all creation reared up in fury at the atrocity that had occurred. The hill itself began to roll like a wave on the sea and split in two. The men were thrown from their feet and retreated in confusion and fear from the horror before them. Their horses reared and snorted, broke loose, and disappeared into the storm.

"What have you done!" roared one general over the wind. "

I have loosed the wrath of the heavens," screamed the king. A panic spread among them and all fled into the darkness.

The next morning, the girl rode up the accursed hill hoping to find some trace of her rescuer. She found the vile blade broken in two, but no sign of the mysterious glowing figure. She dismounted and peered with dismay into the gaping chasm that had once been the heart of the hill. "What is it you seek?" asked a voice behind her.

With a shriek of pure joy she flung her arms around the figure that now stood at her shoulder, glowing like the sun. "You are alive!" she said.

"Yes," said he simply.

"But what of last night?" asked she, "I was sure you had been slain. What of that horrible shriek and the dreadful darkness?"

"My life cannot be taken against my will. Before anything ever was and after all has passed into nothing, I was and ever will be. I laid down my life not only for you, but for all things that would have been utterly destroyed by the acts of last night. Your blood would have strengthened that foul demon beyond anything he has yet achieved. My blood offered willing in exchange for another's broke his power. What began in selfishness and evil, ended in selflessness and love, which alone has power to conquer the darkness. He has been vanquished but not destroyed. He still lurks in the world, full of malice and hate and ready to assist any who give themselves over to a lust for power and destruction. Until last night, mankind had lived in peace and harmony with one another and with all creation, but that peace has been shattered. Man has shown himself vulnerable to evil, willing to place himself above all else, even his own children. It is no longer safe to assume that all men are good in and of themselves. Each individual must hereafter make a decision to follow what is right and good, or to follow his own selfish path into evil and darkness. From the dawn of mankind, it was given into your hands to decide whether to pursue goodness or darkness. A member of your race has chosen the ultimate evil and with his fall, all are now required to make a decision that once came naturally to all."

The girl fell sobbing at his feet, feeling in herself the dreadful truth she had just heard spoken. It was as if something inside her had been torn or ripped away and she was left with a gaping hole, much like the defiled face of the hill. Looking up into his eyes, she said, "I have lost something within myself. I am no longer whole. I have a longing, a desire for something. Something, though I know not what. Something greater than myself."

"Yes," said he, "your whole race now shares that same longing. And with what you fill that hole will determine the course of your life, and the lives of all those around you, from now and ever onwards. Choose carefully."

"Can I choose you?" she asked hesitantly.

A smile crept over his face and the whole hillside seemed to laugh with joy. "Of course," he said. "After last night, the world is hurting and needs to be told these things which you have just heard. I need someone to go forth and tell them. Bring your horse forward."

The girl ran over to the horse which had strayed and was happily nibbling at weeds upon the far side of the hill. She led the beast towards the figure. The stallion pulled back against the reins and nearly reared, trying to avoid the glowing figure before him. "Do not be afraid my simple beast," said the figure, "from now and ever onwards, you and your descendants will no longer be considered simple." The figure turned his side towards the girl and for the first time she saw the gaping wound in his side. From it dribbled a steady stream of silver blood. She gasped in horror and drew back. "Do not be afraid," he said, "this is the price of last night's adventure. Though much was lost, much good also came of it. Take a drop of my blood on your finger and place it on the horse's tongue." Hesitantly the girl complied. Almost reverently she poked a finger into the sliver stream and placed a drop of the precious fluid into the horse's mouth.

An indignant snort was followed by a blinding flash. She no longer held a horse by the reins but a unicorn. The sorrel coat had become white as the snow; wisdom and fire were in his once placid and simple eyes. Cloven hooves of silver had replaced his single hooves of grey. A silver horn protruded proudly from his forehead. He shook his head in disgust a few times and looked with dismay at the girl and the glowing figure.

"Remove his bit," laughed the figure. The girl complied and the unicorn seemed much happier. "Now it is your turn," said he. The girl looked with shock and disgust at the gaping hole in the figure's side and turned pleading eyes to his. "If you really wish to serve me, you must taste of my blood," he said, "by doing so you are binding yourself to me and my purposes. You will gain much in wisdom and abilities but in doing so you are also swearing to serve me, even with the forfeit of your life be it necessary. Do you wish to proceed?"

She nodded and did as she was bidden. She seemed to grow taller and a thirst for knowledge grew within her. A deeper understanding of things once hidden to mortal mind blossomed in her heart. She had changed as much as the horse.

"Now," said the figure," I will tell you of things long hidden to the race of men, things vital to your quest. The demon of war, to whom your father nearly sacrificed you, was once my greatest servant. But he desired things beyond his grasp and made an attempt to supplant me as The Master of All. He was banished from my presence and ever since has made war upon all that is good and wonderful. He has claimed lordship over all creation and still yearns for the power he cannot have. Until last night, he had made little progress in his war against me, but last night there came a breaking. Men, who had once lived in peace, have heeded his call and some have broken away from me seeking the power promised by their new master. Now all must decide whether to follow him or me. None can sit this out. By stepping aside, they are simply declaring themselves for him, if only by doing nothing. This is war a war that has raged since before the world began, there can be no civilians. He will devour everything if all stand aside and let him. I will only do so much. I am Master of all things, but I have given all sapient creatures a choice, and upon that freedom I will not trespass. They must choose what is right or what is evil. I will not infringe upon their decisions for good or ill. If they choose the right, I can assist them, but if they choose the evil I can only stand aside and weep for their ill choices and dire fate. That is why I could not interfere directly in the affairs of last night. It is up to you, and those like you: my servants, to pursue evil in whatever form or guise it takes and do what you must to defeat it and to defend the innocent. You must spread word of this through all lands and to all peoples. It will not be easy and there will be great heartache along the way but you will never be alone; it must be done or evil will consume the world and all within it. Last night a deadly blow was dealt to my enemy, but he is still lurking about and still very powerful. In the end, he will be completely vanquished but until that final day, you are all that stands between the world and devastation. A rent has been created in the hearts of men. They will yearn for me and try to fill the gap with all sorts of vain things. You must tell them the truth of what you have seen. Last night, the innocence of man was lost, but by my blood it can be healed."

The girl had been held spellbound by the tale. The light around the figure dimmed a little, just enough so that she could make out his full form. She had glimpsed a horse-like figure last night and this morning, but now saw him fully, as if a fog had lifted. He was similar to the unicorn standing at her shoulder, but taller and more terrible; his horn and hooves were of gold and he glowed with the very light of the sun.

"Your faithful steed will be the father of the race of mortal unicorns and you shall be the first among a great and future throng of my servants. I will hereafter withdraw from wandering abroad in the world but I will be found by those who seek me. Go forth and teach what you have been taught, fight evil, and protect the innocent." With that he seemed to glow brighter and as the sun topped the head of the hill, vanished into the blinding rays.

### On Heroes: A Foible

Aido had been an under-clerk for the Department of Prophecy Amelioration for over a decade, and at last he was about to embark on his first undercover investigation. He had been in training for years: working out, perfecting his combat techniques, learning to procure and prepare 'wild food,' studying old maps and forgotten languages, familiarizing himself with the prophetic writings of every culture, real or imagined, learning the arts of healing, riding, and woodcraft, and only shaving every third day. Finally, his superiors had decided that he was ready to be promoted to the rank of Investigator for the Sub-department of Hero Isolation and Containment. He happily walked over to the Repository of Draught and Riding Beasts to procure his very own work vehicle; hopefully something in a blood bay with a little spirit, but that was asking for too much, after all, his was a bureaucratic position.

At least he was not assigned the riding ox or the donkey that would only go left regardless of whether you asked him to stop, turn, or back up. He took the reins from the bored looking kid who worked the desk and looked over his new wheels skeptically; it had four legs at least, that was a start. The sorrel coat would blend in with every other horse on the planet, which was far from exciting, but perhaps being inconspicuous would be an advantage in the field. It would get him where he needed to go in an efficient manner and that was all the Department cared about. He sighed and led the beast out of the Repository and parked it in the loading area before going to retrieve the rest of his equipment.

If the horse wasn't exciting, maybe his weapons allotment would be. Aido stood in line for what seemed hours as a fusty old lady pottered about behind the counter of the Dispensary of Potentially Lethal Implements, adjusting her glasses and scratching her head in confusion every three seconds. Finally his turn came and he handed over the paperwork requisitioning what he would need for his field investigation. She stared at him blankly, blinked a few times like a confused chicken, and then after a few minutes of silence said, "you will have to come back after the Midday Ingestion Break, Investigator. You know it is against Regulations for me or anyone else to do any sort of Official Business between the hours of Twelve and Thirteen." He stared at her in astonishment, not believing it was already that late in the day and dreading the thought of more delay, but there was nothing to be done. If either of them were caught working over the Break, the results would be catastrophic. He said something inconsequential and made his way to the Room of Edible Procurement and then returned to the Dispensary to wait, finding that he had lost his place in line. He sat down with a sigh and tried not to weep in frustration. Finally, just before the Afternoon Refreshment Period, he was allowed to get his allotment of PLIs. Like the horse, there was nothing at all interesting about the assortment of weapons but they were functional at least.

Quite nervous that he would not be able to leave today after all, he hurried to the Division of Wardrobe Affairs to outfit himself for his new role and thankfully arrived after the Refreshment Period. He stared glumly at the bundle of clothing, knowing it looked like it was supposed to but that the material and craftsmanship would not hold up if he encountered any weather that was not sunny and warm. The middle-aged clerk watched his reaction carefully, with a slight sneer on his face, saying as he saw Aido's dismay, "don't blame me, we have limited time to make the stuff and whoever bought the material got a great deal on it, but I wouldn't use it for rags, but it ain't my fault."

Aido sighed again and left with his allocation of lousy clothes. Finally, with the sun low on the horizon, he returned to his nondescript horse to pack and be gone, but it took him another half hour to figure out which of the eight sorrel geldings in the loading area was his. When he finally identified the beast, he almost turned right around and demanded his old job back, for there was a parking ticket tucked into the creature's bridle. He glanced at the sign, thirty minute parking indeed! He loaded the saddlebags and swung into the saddle. With a grim smile, he crumpled up the fine and tossed it over his shoulder and then urged his horse to a trot before anything else could delay him.

He stood outside the Edifice of Monetary Exchange and wanted to scream. He needed to make a withdrawal from the Department's account to finance his journey but the facility was closed and would not open again for three days, as it was an Obscure Holiday Weekend (Foot Fungus Awareness Day). Aido could not wait that long or his superiors would demand to know why he was so inefficient in his duties. He had no choice but to hope there was a branch Edifice in one of the villages through which he would undoubtedly pass. He turned his mediocre beast and made his way out of the city. Darkness had fallen, forcing him to pull over for the night. He glanced about hopefully, but there was no sign of either an Approved Nocturnal Repose Sight or a House of Temporary Accommodation for Wayfarers. He could get in trouble for camping in an unapproved fashion but it was a risk he would have to take, and with the mood he was in, he was quite ready to defy any and every regulation he could think of. He even built a fire without a permit from the Incendiary Activity Coordinator and used wood without asking leave of the Arboreal Comptroller. The cheery blaze revealed a sardonic smile on the face of the Investigator as he rethought the day and began to wonder at his previous eagerness for this assignment.

He had always been as much a stickler for the rules as any petty bureaucrat could be, but after all the headache and frustration of the day, he began to wonder at his previous zeal for such stipulations. With these uneasy thoughts on his mind, he turned over and tried to sleep in as unregulated a fashion as possible. The birds awoke far earlier than any sensible regulatory body or department could fathom, a challenge the Avian Affairs Agency was still trying to bring under control, but the small, feathered fiends just would not submit to their authority though fines and imprisonment had all been tried, alas to no avail. Aido was glad there was something in the Universe that had as yet defied regulation and even more grateful that he would be up and on his way long before the lackeys of the Thoroughfare Safety and Compliance Administration were abroad. His more sensible side began to regret his rashness with the parking ticket, but another part of him laughed mercilessly at the part that fretted over such a trifling matter. He gathered up his gear, mounted his horse, and continued on his way.

It was just the sort of day to prolong the usefulness of his standard issue substandard clothing and his heart rejoiced in the beauty of the morning, quite insensible that he was violating at least nine subparagraphs of the Modern Aesthetic Code, which frowned upon such natural splendor and the enjoyment thereof, rather preferring the appreciation of the far more grotesque and grim (not to mention more financially lucrative) products of the modern writers, musicians, and painters. But what did this mere underling know of High Culture and the Finer Things of Life? He rode along amongst the bucolic charm all about him, content in his ignorance. The plain old horse jogged along indifferent to the countryside about him, and therefore quite obviously a lover of Fine Things and of a higher social order than his master. They came to a sizable market town that afternoon and Aido hoped to make a successful withdrawal from his work account to finance the remainder of his mission, else the paperwork to obtain a reimbursement of his expenditures would take the rest of his mortal days to accomplish.

He stopped before the newest and ugliest building in town, certain that it must be what he sought. It was, but like every other public institution, it was also closed in observance of an Official Obscure Holiday Weekend. Apparently his work related expenditures would have to be passed on to his children as an inheritance as he would not live long enough to be reimbursed. He sighed and urged the beast out of town before he started screaming in frustration and risked being locked away as a lunatic or a disturber of the peace. Aido rode on for another hour before stopping alongside a happy creek, where he decided to take a break from his saddle and water his highly efficient mode of transportation. He mused upon his assignment and its futility as he leaned on the bridge railing and watched the gladsome water frolic in its stony channel beneath him. He wished his life could be as happy and careless as that unceasing flow. Another day of riding would bring him to his destination, perhaps his previous enthusiasm would then return once he was truly doing what he had always dreamt of doing one day and for which he had spent his entire life preparing. With a heavy sigh he climbed back into his saddle, knowing chances were very good that only his loathing would grow in the days to come, for his heart had grown cold towards his first and only love. He rode on, wondering what he was riding towards or perhaps more correctly what he was trying to escape.

He passed through several small villages while the day lasted, each with its own Regulation Stopping Places but he ignored them and rode on, enjoying the illicit thrill of thwarting the over-regulation under which he had happily toiled his entire life. Thankfully it was a Holiday Weekend, else he might not have made it through the first village without being apprehended by the local constabulary for his various, heinous crimes against humanity and the world in general, to say nothing about the discarded traffic citation. He rode on through more and more villages, each more forgettable than the last, laid out in the precise pattern required by the Zoning Commission of Outlying Settlements. He camped again in an unregulated fashion before rising on the Official Obscure Holiday and rode into Happytown in time for the Midday Ingestion Break. He glanced around uneagerly at yet another cookie cutter village and sighed, but he had work to do. He entered the Requisite Lodging and Nourishment Establishment for Transients, the only place open on an Official Obscure Holiday, and allowed the flighty teenaged hostess to seat him in the nearly empty common dining area and acknowledged that he would gladly consume the Daily Balanced and Nutritious Repast. She returned with the unassuming concoction in a bowl and set a mug of some viscous purplish-green liquid before him that smelled of aged turnips and old socks, which immediately killed what little appetite he had.

As he was staring balefully at his inedible Repast, a man with a knowing look in his eyes seated himself beside the Investigator and smiled superciliously at him. Said the newcomer without preamble, "you work for the Feds don't you." It was not a question.

Aido looked up in surprise but did not deny it, saying, "what gave me away?"

The man's smile became condescending, "anyone dressed in cloth of that poor a make must either be destitute or a government employee." He laughed in derision, "my brother is a fabric merchant and makes a handsome living by selling such pathetic material by the square acre to lackeys in the Department of Acquisition and Distribution of Necessary Consumables. He makes more per yard from that flimsy stuff than he does selling the finest material available to the Great Lords."

Aido smiled ironically, "that does not surprise me in the least."

Said the stranger, "so what are you doing here? Obviously you are here on Official Unofficial Business else you'd be in a Right and Proper Uniform."

Said Aido warmly, "I am here to discover if any Heroes might be budding in Happytown. Certain of the Prophecies hint at just such an Occurrence in the very near future."

The man laughed, "trying to thwart Prophecy again, are they? Will you people ever realize there are just some things government cannot control?"

Aido stared at his regulation soup in dismay, "that I highly doubt."

Said the man eagerly, "so just what happens if you discover said Hero?"

Aido said dryly, "we offer him a great government job. If he declines that, then he gets to attend Mandatory Reeducation Sessions for the Socially Dysfunctional and will inevitably end up committing suicide, excuse me, I mean he will choose Elective Self Annihilation."

"Lovely," said his companion, "you people have a title for everything!"

Aido smiled wryly, "the Department of Nomenclature is the biggest division of the government." He glanced around furtively and said, "I would rather get out of this line of work. The sooner the better."

The stranger brightened, "with that I may be of assistance." He continued with an amused smile, "are you aware that you are a fugitive?"

Aido frowned, "I was not aware that it was Official, but it would not surprise me, though it is an Obscure Holiday. The parking fine?"

The stranger laughed, "you didn't?!"

Aido caught his amusement and nodded, "I carelessly tossed it aside." He then whispered, "among other vicious crimes."

The stranger smiled deeply, "then I will gladly aid your disappearance. We criminals must stick together. Come!" They stood silently, heartlessly leaving the inedible fodder on the table and a less than standard tip for the Hostess.

As they walked inconspicuously down the street, Aido noticed several posters bearing his face and emblazoned with directions for his immediate apprehension. They continued their steady, unhurried progress (so as not to draw attention) and turned down a smaller lane that apparently vanished into the neatly managed coppice behind the village. Eventually the Regulation Side Path crossed the threshold into the Unregulated and Semi-wild Wooded Area and became as unmanaged as the forest through which it wound. They continued on in silence for nearly an hour, and only when they felt themselves truly alone and unobserved did the stranger finally speak, "so what has prompted your flight from Order my friend?"

Aido laughed, "I set out with every good intention of fulfilling my orders but it seemed at every turn there was a governmentally imposed hindrance to me accomplishing my task or even surviving for an hour without unneeded frustration and complication. That and the ride out here gave me plenty of time to consider life and the lack of meaning therein."

The stranger smiled broadly, "welcome to the first day of a purposeful life my friend. I am called Gunyon and am a member of the Freemen for Commonsense."

Aido grinned, "that sounds like something birthed in the Department of Nomenclature."

Gunyon laughed, "it was, we social rebels had not yet got around to naming our pathetic little society and the guys over at Nomenclature could not abide having such an as yet unnamed group running at large so they came up with a name for us."

"Just what does this society of yours do?" asked Aido as they trekked deeper into the confines of the wood.

Gunyon shrugged, "we really haven't accomplished much of anything yet. We started only a few months ago as a small group of annoyed citizens who occasionally met to grouse about too much Order over Tea. Of course our Tea Time was not considered the Official Hour for Consuming Brewed Beverages so the authorities soon started to take notice. We each received a rather nasty letter, in triplicate of course, indicating that we had best mend our ways or there would be Dire Consequences."

"What did you do?" asked Aido, both amused and aghast.

Gunyon smiled, "we went underground of course. On the outside we are just monotonous citizens but when no one is looking..." he paused for effect, "we each of us are rather disorderly and unique."

"Your crimes far outweigh mine, sir," said Aido with a respectful bow.

Gunyon smiled in anticipation, "but you have hardly begun to rebel my friend. I think you could make quite a career of it." For the first time since he left his old life behind, Aido felt the first stirrings of eagerness and what he was startled to realize must be hope.

Once Aido was completely confused as to direction and the hour, they stood outside an old fashioned but well tended cottage with only a few unofficial weeds daring to show their leaves in the otherwise regulation vegetable patch. Aido said in appreciation, "how do you get away with keeping up such a residence?"

Gunyon smiled, "the Inspectors for the Regulatory Authority of Domiciles and Outbuildings are loath to travel this far off the beaten path to make sure my house is up to code. I don't tell them anything and they don't ask; it is a mutually beneficial relationship." They stabled the horse in an old lean-to that had once housed a cow, but Gunyon had not bothered to go through the rigmarole required to acquire a new one after the decease of his previous beast. They entered the cottage and Gunyon's wife happily served them a brewed beverage outside the requisite hours. As they sipped their tea, they discussed many things and Aido felt himself enjoying life and real companionship for the first time in living memory.

"So what about this Hero of yours?" asked Gunyon as he munched on his fifteenth cucumber sandwich.

Aido said with a mouthful of cookie, "what about him?"

Gunyon said, "what makes The Powers That Be think one is like to rise from such a place as Happytown?"

Aido swallowed his cookie and said, "the name alone would suffice, but there are certain vague writings from an extinct people group native to the very south of the world that suggests as much, but as I said, the Prophecy is vague and it could be any of ten or twenty different villages and this may not even be the Appointed Time. That is the problem with Prophecy, it is often rather vague and fulfills itself often without us knowing until long after the fact. But just to be on the safe side, they are taking all precautions."

"How do you go about finding a Hero?" asked Gunyon with a smile.

Aido chewed thoughtfully for a moment and then replied, "we will of course monitor all known widows with only sons, step-families containing an ill-tempered woman, orphans raised by obscure or cruel relatives, and anyone who has ever found a child of unknown pedigree on their doorstep. Of course the current management strategy for all such High Risk Families has been implemented to prevent just such an occurrence. None of these Families at High Risk of Hero Production or Prophecy Fulfillment are left to go hungry, become poor, or otherwise grow discontent with their lot in life. If there is no discontent or need, or so the theory goes, there is unlikely to be a Hero produced or a Prophecy fulfilled."

"An interesting theory," said Gunyon as he chewed, "has it worked?"

Aido shrugged his shoulders, "before my promotion to Investigator I worked mostly in the Laboratory of Statistics and Numerical Data which compiles numbers on Everything, even on things that have no numerical data, but there was very little convincing evidence that any of their preventive protocols either helped or hindered Prophecy/Hero attainment. In reality, such occurrences are so rare that it would take a millennium to get enough data to even begin calculating whether their programs are effective or not. Of course, no one really cares if a bureaucracy is effective so long as it seems to be doing something."

Gunyon chewed on this revelation and another sandwich, before saying, "can we improvise our own Hero?"

Aido sat back and said thoughtfully, "it certainly isn't done that way, at least if you are going by the Book, but I am so tired of 'The Book of All Regulations Pertaining to Decent and Orderly Civilian Life' that I think we should, just to spite them all!"

Gunyon nodded, "very well, we will."

They stayed up much of the night (quite against the Treaty on Reasonable and Necessary Nocturnal Activities) discussing their plans to implement a Hero and/or fulfill a Prophecy. As they made up their lists, discussed necessary attributes, and inventoried equipment, Aido said in surprise, "it seems my training to prevent Hero actualization has actually equipped me with all of the requisite skills."

Gunyon smiled, "and out of Happytown a Hero shall arise. Prophecy fulfilled! Excellent! Now all we need is a ragtag band of followers and we shall be ready to shake the Pillars of Order."

Aido said hopefully, "your company of so-called Freemen?"

Gunyon shook his head, "a few might be interested or willing to assist in our caper, but we need the seediest, most scandalous, and underrated band of cutthroats this world can supply."

Aido nodded, "ah, you suggest a raid on the Facility for the Containment of Socially Awkward Individuals." Gunyon smiled in anticipation of what was to come.

They went to bed and slept well into the day (violating the Compact on Acceptable Awakenings) and after a scrumptious breakfast that had nothing whatsoever to do with the Highly Recommended and Otherwise Required Guidelines for Food Preparation and Consumption, they went about plotting their raid. They made their way out of the forest in the twilight, knowing no true government official would bother being out of doors at that hour. They stayed overnight with another Freeman who lived on the far border of the forest and set out before first light the next morning. For three days they traveled as far and hard as they could each day without risking exposure by too much exertion. They arrived outside the Facility of CSAI in time for the Afternoon Refreshment Period and had to wait for admittance until the Guard for Security and Safety had finished his allotted Refreshment. The bored and disgruntled looking man in his fading years studied their paperwork, stared at them, returned to the paperwork, whistled tunelessly, and then resumed staring at them. Finally he said in irritation, "seems like everything is in order Investigator, you may proceed with your prisoner."

Gunyon nodded grimly and touched Aido in the small of the back with his swordpoint, grumbling, "move along scum." They both contained an exuberant smile that their subterfuge was working so well, of course it helped that Aido was truly an Investigator with a real Department and that Gunyon was a renowned scribe who could copy, forge, or create any document or handwriting desired.

As Aido was by now a well-known criminal, it was quite reasonable to present him as the newest inmate of the Facility. They wound deeper into the complex, passing each checkpoint and guard station with ease until they were in the very heart of the detention area. The day was wearing out as they passed the last checkpoint and Gunyon asked after the keys, that he might lock up his captive for the night. The guard yawned and said, "it is one minute to close pal, whatever you do afterhours is no concern of mine but I won't be held liable for overtime. Take the keys, I'm going home." He handed over the gigantic key ring and left for the night, leaving the pair alone with the inmates.

It took several hours to free the captives, as there were countless keys to try in each lock, but finally the prisoners were loose and they began discussing strategy. It was an easy matter to capture the skeleton crew that guarded the facility at night and lock them up in the prisoners' stead. It was many months before the incarcerated guards were able to convince the morning crew that they had been illegally detained, but finally the paperwork made it through all the proper channels and the guards were released with only a severe scolding. The morning crew thought it odd that the number and faces of the prisoners had changed overnight but as there was no official paper trail on the matter, no one wanted to get in trouble or take responsibility, so nothing was said about it until the proper paperwork was completed, by which time our Heroes were long since gone.

Most of the detainees went home, as there were far too many of them to go a'questing, but there were half a dozen that stayed to help. Aido studied their motley crew with appreciation; here were rebels indeed. One man had green hair that clashed with his favorite purple shirt, another really liked liver and onions, there was a lady who was overly fond of cats, Robert insisted on being called Bob, there was a repeat jaywalker (crosswalks hadn't been invented yet), and a man who had accidentally cut the tags off of a mattress he did not own. Few were the criminals in the realm more vile than these, let The Powers That Be tremble, for the Shakers of Empire had emerged (yes, the Nomenclature people are at it again). They easily made their way out of the Containment Facility after raiding the parking garage and locker room for their own personal benefit and went out to, well, shake the Empire.

So how do eight people make an Empire tremble and bring an overbearing bureaucracy to its knees? Easy! Destroy the Paperwork, for if it does not exist on paper, it does not exist, at least in a bureaucracy. So off they went, to interfere with the lifeblood of this bungling, lumbering giant and who better to aid them than the Minions of Government themselves. Aido thought the tree obsessed people over at the Arboreal Comptroller would be just the folks to get on their side, for if it were well nigh impossible to get paper, one could not have paperwork, and no paperwork meant no bureaucracy. So our zany friends arrayed themselves in varicolored splendor and did not bath or shave for several weeks. Once they appeared to be quite friendly with the earth and all therein, they wandered over to the Main Office of the Arboreal Comptroller and made their plea. The Administrative Assistant was quite perplexed by these hippy-wannabes and did the only thing possible in a confusing or overwhelming situation: she delegated. So it was that they passed from one office to another, from one flunky's hands to a lackey down the hall. Finally they arrived in the Office of the Arboreal Comptroller himself and happily extolled their plan of saving the nation's precious forests from the horrid fate of wanton waste and negligence that was rampant throughout the realm. The man nodded, ordered his personal aides to present themselves, and soon interrogated them as to the abuse of the obviously vanishing woodlands.

The minions agreed to the last man (what else are minions for?) that there was certainly a problem and only drastic and instantaneous action could preserve some small scrap of the once great forests from total annihilation. One went so far as to proclaim that his son's third grade science teacher had complained the other day that they seemed to be cutting down too many trees lately, at least more than she remembered as a girl. This smote the hearts of all those listening sore and even lent scientific credence to the Theory of Arboreal Apocalypse. The Comptroller had heard enough; he would act immediately.

The Service for the Collection and Distribution of Information: Useful and Otherwise, was summoned to report on this horrifying discovery and soon the whole nation was in a near panic at looming paper shortages, rampant deforestation, and the resulting air pollution, acid rain, and erosion that would no doubt make the entire world uninhabitable for at least a thousand years, give or take an Officially Obscure Holiday. So it was that Drastic Measures were taken and the forests were saved and the masses appeased. Paper became scarce and terribly expensive until someone decided to import it from less prudent nations, thus restoring paper to the peasantry. Of course, during the paper shortage the entire government collapsed due to lack of paperwork and most of its officials were forced to seek sanctuary in the nation's universities and on the professional speaking circuit, where they remain to this day.

While the economy suffered a grievous recession in the public sector, private industry and productivity flourished (even without paper) as never before, and for the first time in history, people without a government job could actually make a living. Eventually things settled down, paper was restored to the nation, and the government returned, but in a more modest and humble form, which was the only kind now acceptable to the temporarily freed plebs who, once drunk with the wine of freedom, could not again taste of the moonshine of bureaucracy. As for our heroes, each was honored with his or her own Official Obscure Holiday but after the Paper Revolution, only the Service for the Distribution of Written Communications officially observed said Holidays, but then, no government is perfect!

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.

