The Magician (NC-17 Version) - The Collector's Edition
An X-File Story by
Jennifer Lyon  and 
Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@aol.com)

Disclaimer: The X-Files, and the characters of Fox Mulder and 
Dana Scully, and all rights thereto, are the property of FOX 
Broadcasting Network. The remainder of this story is the 
property of the authors. All comments are welcome.

Authors' note: This story is a small departure from most X-Files 
fanfiction. At its heart, it is a fantasy, a slightly deeper trip into 
the 'realm' of make-believe. Sit back, relax, suspend your 
disbelief, and let us tell you a tale. Enjoy!

                         
                   -----------------
Prologue

     He was under no illusions - he was running for his life.  
Here, in the deepest part of the forest where the two realms 
abutted, there was only one possible haven, the one that Reinald 
had told him to seek.  The wind-whipped branches lashed at his 
face as he crashed through the dark and the rain, his pursuers 
terrifyingly close behind. The baying of the Hunters and the 
shriek of the Destroyers were increasingly loud in his quivering 
ears as he headed by instinct to the only possible escape; if indeed 
that's what it was - for nothing had ever returned alive from the 
Vortex. He couldn't be sure he wasn't heading into disaster, but 
with certain death nipping at his heels, the choice was clear.
     He leapt over fallen trees and gnarled roots, panting, his 
chest on fire with the need for air.  He thought briefly - only 
briefly - of his loved ones and the life he would be leaving behind, 
then ruthlessly set those thoughts aside.  Right now, he needed to 
focus on survival. While the baying and shrieks grew ever nearer, 
he finally saw his only chance at survival just a few hundred 
meters away.  He could hear the low pitched roar of the Vortex 
as he forced his exhausted limbs onward.
     Sandwiched between the pursuing fiends and the 
boiling, flashing nothingness of the Vortex, he hesitated for the 
briefest of seconds, then the sour scent of the Hunters and the 
nauseating stench of the Destroyers strengthened his resolve.  
They couldn't be more than fifty meters behind.  As he heard their 
shouts of impending triumph come closer and closer, he drew a 
deep breath and hurled himself into the center of the Vortex. A 
scream of terror echoed faintly in his ears as he fell through a 
spinning web of light and shadow. Fell endlessly, head over heels, 
over and over, until finally...


     ...he crashed onto the floor of a cold, dark, cheerless 
chamber, filled with equipment and metal tables and storage 
spaces.  Certainly different from what he was accustomed to, but 
for the moment, safe.  He curled up into a ball in a corner of the 
room and slept.
                         - - - - - 

     //Reinald stared into the Oracle Cloud - Tarnor was 
safe.  But to bring him back would take all of the Mage's wisdom 
and power.  No one else had ever been able to do it - he wasn't 
certain that even he could.  Especially now, when both his 
strength and that of the Realm itself were being assailed on all 
sides....  Think, think!  Reinald blinked and rubbed his eyes. He 
was already exhausted from the search.  If he did not find 
Another soon, someone with the strength to join with him - 
melding their powers together in defense against the great evil - 
then the Realm would be lost.  Perhaps Tarnor would be better 
off wherever he was.  
     Focusing back on his lost friend, Reinald could get only 
fragmented impressions of that strange place. The darkly clouded 
images, augmented by a few sensations, smells and tastes, were 
obtained less through the Cloud than from his link with Tarnor.  
Focusing his thoughts with fierce determination, he sent a 
message along that link to comfort himself as much as Tarnor, "I 
will not forget - I will bring you back - have courage".//



Chapter One
Washington D.C.
Monday, March 6, 1995
8:30 a.m.

     "Scully, you're going to love this one." Mulder grinned 
up at his partner as she entered their cramped basement office.
     Scully closed the door behind her and made her way 
over to her desk.  From her expression, and the careless way she 
dumped her briefcase on the desk, her week was not starting out 
well.  "Mulder, when you say that, I know the day is shot.  Bad 
enough that I overslept, had no hot water for my shower and put 
a huge hole in my last pair of hose.  Just let me get some coffee 
before I become homicidal."
     He pushed her steaming mug across the desk at her and 
smiled.  "All ready for you, Scully." She picked it up and sipped 
at the hot liquid gratefully, perching herself on the edge of the 
desk. After a couple of swallows, she looked up at him with 
suspicion. "Oh, God, now I KNOW I'm going to hate it.  Okay, 
I'll bite - what is it - Elvis has fathered an alien baby and we're 
invited to the christening,  or what?"
     "I'm hurt, Scully."  He feigned taking an arrow through 
the heart, then he favored her with a glowing smile.  Leaping up 
to lean over the desk, he placed his lips near her ear and 
whispered conspiratorially, "Read this and BE AMAZED."  He 
handed her an X-File with a low ID number, then sat back down 
in his chair as she flipped through it, scanning the documents, her 
eyes widening as she studied the photographs.
     "Mulder, this is impossible." Her partner watched with 
mixed amusement and amazement as one auburn eyebrow inched 
its way up her forehead. She could have given "Mr. Spock" 
lessons in how to display that look of intellectual incredulity.
     "Evidently not," he replied, leaning back in his chair and 
clasping his hands over his knees.   "These photographs were 
taken at MIT.  The file was started in 1951 after the first 
occurrence.  Entries have been made on an irregular basis six 
times since then.  All of the occurrences have been similar.  A 
creature, for want of a better word, suddenly appears in one of 
the labs - always the same one - on the MIT campus.  This lab is 
always kept locked when no one is actually working in it, which 
apparently is most of the time.  It's opened only on days when 
certain experiments are being done using certain equipment.  
Because of the classified nature of the experiments, the room isn't 
even unlocked for cleaning, so it often stays locked for weeks at 
a time.  In the occurrences from 1951 to 1987,  the creatures 
discovered in the lab were dead, probably  from starvation or 
dehydration .   But it's a little different this time.   This time, 
Scully, we've got a live one." 
                         - - - - -

     They were boarding a plane to Logan International 
Airport less than ninety minutes later.  Scully hadn't bothered to 
protest. When Mulder got on the trail of a case like this, he was 
impossible to derail. Either she went with him, or he went alone. 
At least if she was with him, she could possibly keep him out of 
trouble. Of course, there was also the small part of her that was 
fascinated by the case itself.  She didn't like to admit it, but 
sometimes she really was curious about the weird events they 
investigated, and this was one of those times. 
     Finally settling into their seats after a terrifyingly fast 
dash to the airport, Scully was appreciative, as she often was 
when they traveled, that her smaller size made squeezing into the 
cramped seats relatively easy for her. As usual Mulder's long legs 
were crammed into an uncomfortable position, one splayed out 
into the aisle. 
     Mulder grimaced at Scully as he adjusted his position 
yet again, then opened the briefcase he was still holding in his lap. 
He might as well take full advantage of the flight time to fill her 
in on more of the details.  He spread the photographs out on the 
their tray tables. "You'll notice that of the seven creatures, there 
are three distinct types, which they have imaginatively named 
Type A, Type B and Type C.  The types are divided on the basis 
of size, facial and body characteristics, and so on.  The latest 
arrival is a Type B - what I personally prefer to call the Gargoyle 
series, as opposed to the Troll series and the Elf series.  It stands 
approximately one meter tall and weighs 19 kilograms, although 
the weight was probably not accurate, as the creature was neither 
enthusiastic nor cooperative about being weighed.  It does not 
appear to understand any of the languages which have been tried 
- the count stands at thirty five - but researchers on the scene say 
that they feel the creature is intelligent, and they are still seeking 
ways to communicate with it.  Apparently, it is drinking sterilized 
water, but has refused food so far."
     "Mulder, where did this thing come from?"  Scully 
questioned, pulling one of the photographs closer to study it 
intently.  "And please, please don't say what I think you're going 
to say."
     "Believe it or not, I wasn't," he replied, leaning back in 
the chair, angling his head to the side to look down at the top of 
her head, still bent over the glossy photos. "There have been 
several theories throughout the years.  One is that these poor 
creatures are the results of experiments done in genetics at MIT, 
and somehow, they were inadvertently locked in the room and 
were not able to get out. If they are the results of genetics 
experiments, no one has admitted to it, which is hardly surprising.  
Another theory of the early fifties - and the favorite of paranoiacs 
everywhere - is that they were beings created by the Soviets to 
spy on us and take our most valuable research.  The theory does 
not go on to explain how these beings were supposed to blend in 
with the indigenous population," he added dryly.  "In any case, I 
think we can rule that theory out -  our Type B doesn't 
understand Russian.  Anyway, the bodies of the others were 
taken by "someone in the government" according to sources at 
MIT, although no one will ever know who - there's no paper 
trail, no evidence other than what MIT sent the Bureau for 
inclusion in the X-Files, and no one's volunteering any 
information.  I have my own ideas about that, but knowing won't 
get us any further ahead anyway.  So in answer to your question, 
Scully, I don't know where they came from.  That's one of the 
things we're here to find out."
                         - - - - -

     After landing and collecting their baggage, they joined 
the continuous traffic jam that IS Boston and drove the three 
miles from the airport to MIT in the record time of one hour and 
fifteen minutes. They found the building in question quickly.  
Oddly, there seemed to be little excitement,  possibly because the 
students and the professors were so focused in their individual 
pursuits that they were unaware of the extraordinary events 
taking place down the hall. They knocked at the door to Lab 301, 
and it was opened by a gaunt older man in a lab coat.
     "Professor Neumann?  I'm Fox Mulder, this is Dana 
Scully.  I spoke to you earlier today." Mulder and Scully 
displayed their I.D. photos. The professor took hold of Mulder's 
I.D. and studied it thoroughly, nodded, and stepped back to let 
them enter. In answer to their quizzical expressions, he said, "It's 
in the lab proper - this is just the prep room.  My assistant and I 
still haven't had any luck communicating with it.  It is non-
aggressive and appears to be frightened.  I'd say it hadn't been in 
the lab very long when we found it.  It was thirsty, but appears to 
be in good shape otherwise.  We're trying to keep this under 
wraps as much as possible.  I was here the last time this happened 
in '87.  The attitude of the government-types who took charge of 
the creature's body and interrogated everyone here reminded me 
of the Gestapo.  This is a living being, and I believe an intelligent 
one.  I would not willingly trust its fate to people like that.  Well, 
do you think you're ready?"  He smiled wryly and shook his head.  
"Believe me, you will never be totally prepared for what you're 
about to see."
     Neumann lightly rapped an irregular series of knocks on 
the inner door.  A few seconds later it was opened by a middle-
aged woman who, recognizing Neumann, admitted them. The 
room they entered was almost thirty feet in length and twenty 
feet in width, and was divided in half lengthwise by a long, 
gleaming stainless steel work table.  The long sides of the room 
were lined with metal counters, with storage compartments 
above and below.  Scattered on the counters were computers, a 
laser and other space-age equipment.  Neumann and the woman, 
both dressed in identical white lab-coats, went to stand on one 
side of the long table; on the other, in the furthest corner of the 
room from the doorway in which they were standing, squatted 
the creature.
     "Oh Mulder - oh, my God!" Scully backed up a step, 
eyes dilating with amazement. Mulder brushed past her, curiosity 
and delight written upon his face. The two agents remained at the 
head of the table observing the creature.  It was roughly 
humanoid in appearance and clothed in a blue leather-like tunic, 
with a large brown pouch bound to its silver buckled belt. It was 
a steel gray in color except for the palms of its hands and the 
soles of its feet, which were darker, almost black.  Its skin had a 
leathery appearance, and it was scattered with coarse looking 
black hair.  There was no way to tell if the creature was male or 
female though it did have a short, stubby tail protruding out from 
under its short tunic. The joints were knobby, enlarged, and the 
hands and feet were disproportionately big and deformed-
looking, by human standards.   Its face was grotesque, with a 
huge mouth, rather alarming pointed teeth, a spreading nose, and 
tiny eyes. Wide, pointed ears stood out from its head.  Swinging 
around to take in Mulder and Scully, the creature's ears popped 
up to their full length and its chest rose and fell rapidly. It slowly 
moved to a standing position.  
     
     Tarnor stared at the newcomers.  These two did not 
have the weak, pastel aura of the woman.  They didn't even have 
the Thin One's light gray aura of the intellectual. These were the 
types of beings he was more familiar with,  beings surrounded by 
warm, strong, vibrantly colored auras.  The Short One's aura was 
unique - the healer's brown at the center, with a wide border of 
warrior green.  The two colors swirled and mixed in intricate 
patterns where they met. Tarnor had never seen such a 
combination before.  
     Then his eyes turned to her tall, male companion. Great 
Deities above!  Tarnor blinked, then looked again. The fierce blue 
of this human's aura rivaled Reinald's own, almost blinding in its 
intensity.  It glowed, clear and pure, like the cloudless sky on a 
bright summer's noon. At last, something familiar - it was greatly 
reassuring that this frightening strange place had magicians too.  
Surely a magician as powerful as this one would understand 
Tarrnor's predicament. 
     Tentatively, Tarnor focused his thoughts and energy and 
tried to reach out to the Tall One.  He was not accomplished at 
establishing links yet, at least not with anyone except Reinald, but 
if he could find an ally in this strange land...

     Mulder instinctively put his hand out for balance as a 
wave of dizziness and nausea struck him.  Scully grabbed his arm 
to steady him.  "Mulder, are you all right?  Do you want to sit 
down?  You're white as a sheet!"
     "I - I think I...  No, it's gone now.  I'm fine.  Must be jet 
lag or something."  From the way that Scully looked at him, 
Mulder knew they'd be talking about this later.
     The creature was now squatting again, and appeared 
withdrawn.  It closed its eyes for several minutes, its breathing 
slowed, and it appeared as if it had gone to sleep.  Suddenly, it 
stood again, looked at Mulder, and took a few experimental steps 
towards him. The woman scientist instinctively took a step back 
as the creature emerged from the corner. This was new - up to 
now, it had not approached anyone, but had only retreated and 
assumed a defensive posture.  
     Mulder, Scully and Neumann held their ground as the 
creature came several steps closer, now only about fifteen feet 
away.  Mulder squatted down, wanting to avoid intimidating the 
creature by equalizing their heights.  Unfortunately, the position 
also impeded his ability to move quickly if necessary.  He hoped 
that wouldn't be necessary since he desperately wanted to 
communicate with it. He had so many questions.
     "I hope you know what you're doing,"  Scully said 
softly. She and Neumann paced back a couple of steps, and she 
slid her hand unobtrusively to the handle of her gun, never taking 
her eyes off the strange creature.  It continued to advance, now 
within a few feet. Mulder extended his arms, resting them on his 
knees, and held out both hands, palms up, debating whether or 
not to look the creature right in the eyes.  Although a sign of 
honesty and forthrightness in Westerners, a direct stare was 
interpreted as a challenge in some human and animal cultures. 
While Mulder was considering the question, his eyes still focused 
on the creature's feet, it took one more step, then squatted and 
extended its hands to within an inch of Mulder's.  For a minute or 
two, they were motionless.  Then Mulder closed the distance to 
gently touch his hands to the creature's and looked into its face. 
     Everyone watching felt their breath catch and hold in 
their throats.  There was a change of expression on the creature's 
face as the contact took place, a relaxation of sorts.  It placed 
one of its dry palms flat against Mulder's,  and slowly and 
carefully placed the heel of its other hand against Mulder's 
forehead, its eyes locked with his.  They froze in that position for 
several minutes, their expressions vacant. Then, ever so slowly, 
the emptiness on their faces cleared and the creature broke 
contact.   It got back up onto its feet,  walked back to its corner 
in its peculiar rolling gait, and sat.  The room breathed again.
     Mulder stood unsteadily, and again, Scully anchored 
him.  "Professor Neumann, we still need to check in at the hotel, 
and Agent Mulder seems to be having a recurrence of his 
hypoglycemia and needs to eat - could we return this evening?"
     "Absolutely. I should be here until ten or so.  This 
interaction just now - incredible.  Makes me sorry I went in for 
Physics instead of Zoology." The professor eyed the creature 
with an expression of mixed hunger and curiosity.
     "We'll see you tonight then.  Thank you." Scully put her 
arm around Mulder's back and supported him as they left the 
room.
     Mulder was silent as they walked out of the building and 
found the car in the parking lot. "I'll drive, Mulder."  Scully 
insisted, watching him with concern. He nodded silently and 
flipped Scully the keys, which she deftly caught.  After they were 
both settled in their seats, she turned the engine over, and drove 
out of the parking lot.
     They traveled along Memorial Drive to their hotel, the 
buildings of MIT and then Harvard on their right, the Charles 
River and the Boston skyline to their left.  Scully slid a glance 
over to her still-silent partner.  He was pale, and his fingers 
trembled slightly.   Concerned, she asked,  "How close did I 
come to the truth?  DO you need to eat?"
     "It wouldn't hurt."  Mulder said absently.  They turned 
into the parking lot of the Hyatt Regency - a  concession Mulder 
had made to Scully's bad mood earlier in the day.  While Mulder 
registered for the two of them, Scully stopped at the coffee shop 
and got some sandwiches and fruit juice.  When they got to their 
rooms, they opened the communicating door, threw down their 
baggage, and Scully spread the food out on the table in her room.  
"Sorry, no iced tea, they don't have it in the winter up here, 
apparently."
     "S'alright."  He started eating his tuna on toast, his mind 
most definitely elsewhere.  She noticed that although his color 
had improved, he was still trembling slightly.  They ate in 
companionable quiet for a while, although Scully was beginning 
to get impatient. Finally, her patience exhausted, she cleared her 
throat and dived in. 
     "Okay, Mulder, talk." His head jerked up as if he were 
noticing her presence for the first time.  He centered on her with 
an effort.  
     "All right, Scully, but I don't think you're going to like 
it."
     "What was all that crap about jet lag, Mulder?" she 
asked heatedly. "Nobody gets jet lag from a one hour flight in the 
same time zone.  What the hell was wrong with you in there?"
     Yawning, he rubbed his face with his hands, then sat 
back.  "I think it was trying to communicate with me.  Well, 
actually, I KNOW it was trying to communicate with me. The 
first time, when it was still across the room I was aware of  - 
images mostly, and colors and odors and tastes, all of them 
strange, and so sharp and clear they were almost painful.  The 
sensations definitely did not originate with me, they had to be 
coming from the creature. The images made no sense, as far as I 
could tell.  Anyway, I guess I got overloaded by all the stimuli or 
something, because after a few seconds, it became intolerable and 
I felt like I was going to pass out."
     "Which you nearly did.  You took a hell of a chance 
letting that thing get close to you," Scully said with annoyance. 
He was always putting himself into dangerous situations.
     "Not really, Scully.  I think it was pretty obvious that it 
didn't mean any harm," Mulder protested.
     "Obvious to you, maybe.  But it could have hurt you 
without meaning to.  And don't forget that we have no idea what 
kind of foreign bacteria and viruses this thing might carry."
     He shrugged.  "It was worth the risk.  When it got close 
and touched me, I was again sure that there was communication 
taking place.  But, there was something different.  It seemed like 
I was communicating with a different being.  The images I was 
getting were much less intense, more controlled. How can I 
explain it?"  He grimaced in frustration for a second, then said, 
"Kind of like looking at two completely different handwriting 
samples, or pictures by two different artists.  The feeling I got the 
first time was totally different the second time.  It was still 
images, sensations - totally nonverbal.  But  the images were 
toned down, more coherent, more understandable."
     "So what did you get from them?" she asked, curious 
despite herself.
     Sheepishly, he looked up at her.  "Uh - this is the part 
you're probably not going to like."
     She smiled sweetly.  "Don't worry about it, Mulder.  I 
haven't been crazy about any of it so far."
     "You asked for it,"  he warned, then he sighed.  "I got 
an impression of another place, not of this world, but not of any 
other world either. A kind of ... maybe a ... I don't know, maybe 
a parallel reality?  I can't really pin it down any better than that. 
I 
had visions of impending bloodshed, lots of it - that came through 
loud and clear. And also a kind of Manichaean Good versus Evil 
thing, with the smart money on Evil."  He shook his head as if to 
clear it.  "Sorry, Scully, I don't know why I'm so tired, but I feel 
wiped out. Mind if I..."
     "Help yourself," she replied. Mulder got up, walked 
over to one of the beds, stretched out on it and almost groaned in 
relief.   Scully observed him for a moment and then said, "Have 
you given any thought to the idea that maybe all this 
communicating isn't exactly healthy for you?"
     "No.  Scully, wait.  You have to hear the rest."  Mulder 
was fighting a losing battle against the sleepiness which was 
rapidly becoming overwhelming.  "See, the thing is, whatever I 
was communicating with, it ... it sees us - you and me - as 
different ... from the other people it's come across here.  And 
Scully ... it needs us ... the healer and the magician...."  He trailed

off as sleep finally overcame him.
     "Yeah, right Mulder."  Scully took the extra blanket 
from the shelf in her closet.  She removed his shoes, then 
carefully covered him, restraining her impulse to ruffle his hair.  
He could drive her to distraction sometimes with his almost child-
like recklessness and gullibility.  She turned on the radio to the 
local NPR station, keeping the volume low, and cleared away the 
remains of lunch.  Then she unpacked her things, and crossing 
through to his room, unpacked for him.  Finally she sat and 
started the field reports, to the accompaniment of Brahm's First 
Symphony and Mulder's soft snores.
                         
                   -----------------

     "Mulder...Mulder, it's six thirty." Scully was sitting on 
the edge of the bed, neatly dressed in her favorite blue suit, her 
bright auburn hair still damp from her shower. She reached out 
and brushed the dark bangs of his forehead tenderly.
     He awakened instantly, as he usually did, although it 
took a few more seconds for his brain to actually function.  He 
sat up, blinked and surveyed his surroundings.  
     "The hotel," he said, with a hint of question in his tone.
     "Yes.  Mulder, are you all right?  You seem kind of 
disoriented."  Concerned, Scully leaned over and looked into his 
eyes, checking his pupils.
     "I'm fine, Scully.  I guess I just didn't take much notice 
when we checked in. Stay for a minute, I want to finish what I 
was telling you about, before we go back to the lab." He pulled 
himself up to a semi-seated position.
     "I have to tell you," she answered. " I'm very uneasy 
about all this.  There's too much of an "Alice in Wonderland" feel 
to it.  I'm not sure I want to look for an explanation of all of 
this." Scully met his eyes directly, not holding back the 
uncertainty she felt. 
     Mulder nodded. "I think that when the explanation 
comes, it will be the LEAST bizarre aspect of the whole case.  
Right now you have to hear me out and we have some decisions 
to make, because I have a feeling our time is limited.  Sooner or 
later, whoever took charge of the corpses of the other creatures 
will hear about the latest arrival, and will show up on the scene.  I 
would prefer it if there were nothing for them to find."
     "You don't seriously think you're going to be able to 
hide that thing somewhere, do you?" 
     "Hiding it wasn't what I had in mind." His eyes glittered, 
as the corners of his mouth edged upwards.
     "Mulder, should I start getting scared now, because I 
don't like that look in your eyes." She tilted her head sideways, 
watching him with slightly narrowed eyes. Just what was he up 
to? 
     "Scully, believe me, I know how hard this sort of thing 
is for you, but just hear me out, and try to keep an open mind, 
okay?"  He threw back the blanket and got out of bed. As he 
prowled around the room, he tried to find the words to explain. 
"I learned a lot from the second link with the creature.  As I was 
telling you, there are two Realms in this parallel reality, or 
whatever it is.  The visions of these Realms were so richly 
textured, it would probably take me days to mention every detail 
I saw.  Some of the images were so beautiful they brought tears 
to my eyes, and some were so gruesome, so grotesque, so 
abhorrent that I was nauseated.  I could sense time and 
everything else in a very different way.  I don't know whether the 
Communicator helped me to interpret these images, or I did it on 
my own, or what;  I suspect a bit of both.  Anyway, the creature 
in the lab is a sort of assistant to the second being I 
communicated with.  He's here by accident - it was the only place 
he could go.  There is a kind of portal that exists between that 
reality and ours - that's how the creatures get here.  So far, their 
use of the portal has either been experimental or accidental.  I 
saw visions of how the other creatures had ended up here.  The 
first three were experiments, unsuccessful ones, seeing as they 
were unable to get back to their own reality.  They were trapped 
in the locked room and died.  Our Type B was running for his life 
and dove through the portal seconds before he would have been 
killed."
     "Killed by what?" Scully angled her head to get into a 
better position to follow his movements around the room.
     "By the Others - the beings that exist in the Other 
Realm.  This is hard -  I don't know what to call anything, 
because as I said, this was all nonverbal so I don't have names or 
labels.  According to the Communicator, the Others are a 
bloodthirsty race, Evil incarnate.  The forces of the Others are 
being gathered because soon there will be a war for control of 
both Realms.  The Realm of the Communicator will surely lose, 
because its people are peaceful and have no experience with all-
out war, not in living memory anyway.  There is a prophecy 
however that speaks of two magicians who could join their 
powers together to defeat the Others.  The Communicator is one 
of those magicians.  He's been searching for Another." 
     Mulder was silent for a few minutes, then sat on one of 
the beds, his hands together, steepled, his fingers resting on his 
upper lip.  "We seem to have captured the Communicator's 
attention, Scully."
     "How?  And why us?"  Scully's tone was suspicious.
     "Evidently, the creature here can serve as a kind of 
conduit.  The Communicator sees us through it.  As to why us..."  
he turned to look at her with a half-apologetic smile.  "It is 
apparently under the impression that we can help it out, an 
impression it received from our auras.  It spotted you 
immediately as a healer of great ability, combined with warrior 
capabilities, something that's very unusual and powerful in its 
world."
     "And what's your aura, Mulder?" she asked with a tinge 
of amusement creeping into her expression.
     His smile turned more apologetic. "Uh - evidently, it 
feels that I may be the magician it's been looking for." 
     Scully shook her head, incredulous. "You don't actually 
believe all this, do you?  Please tell me you don't believe it, 
Mulder."
     Mulder's smile faded, and his jaw set in a stubborn line.  
"At this point, I don't believe or disbelieve.  I don't know if it was 
telling the truth, but I know what I saw and felt and sensed."
     Scully stood up, obviously exasperated.  "And of course 
you 'want to believe'.  Mulder, hasn't that caused you enough 
trouble and grief?  Aren't there enough people in the Bureau who 
think you're crazy?   You are risking the status of the X-Files, 
Mulder - they could close us down again!  And there's no way 
I'm filing a field report that reads like it's been written by J.R.R. 
Tolkien!"
     Mulder came to halt, turning to look down at her, his 
voice also raised.  "What are the X-Files for, Scully?  They're to 
record the truth, no matter how inconvenient or unconventional 
that truth might be.  All I'm asking is that we go back and try to 
communicate with it again.  That, and keep it out of the hands of 
the NSA or Cancer Man or whoever else may show up to try to 
take it."
     Scully took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to 
remember that what she most loved and respected about Mulder 
was also what made her the most crazy.  "Okay, Mulder.  How 
about we go to the lab, you communicate with it, and we'll worry 
about the rest later?"
     Mulder nodded. "Okay, good enough."  He hesitated, 
then said more softly,  "I'm really not trying to be difficult, you 
know.  I just - "
     "I know, Mulder - you just believe more passionately 
than is good for you, sometimes.  You'd better go take a shower 
and change. You're a mess." She looked pointedly at him. He 
peered down at himself and grimaced. Sleeping in his suit had not 
done it any good, the expensive material was crumpled and 
wrinkled.   Sighing, he stripped off the jacket and yanked at his 
tie as he hurried into her bathroom. About ten minutes later, his 
head peeked out the door. "Unh, Scully..." 
     "Finish your shower, Mulder," she answered laughing. 
"I'll get your clothes."
                         - - - - -

     They were at the lab about an hour later.  Again, 
Professor Neumann answered their knock.  His face was pinched 
and anxious as he said, "I'm glad you got here when you did.  I 
just got a call from a friend that works at Lincoln Labs out at 
Hanscom Air Force Base.  Some "recovery team" has been 
scrambled from there.  She said they were headed our way.  She 
doesn't know about our mutual friend in there, but I can think of 
only one thing such a team might be interested in."
     Mulder became very alert, very focused.  "How long do 
we have?"
     "With luck, about thirty minutes.  No more, probably 
less."  The professor backed up and let them enter the room.
     "Okay," Mulder considered their options for a moment, 
his brow crinkling in concentration. "Professor, if you and your 
colleague would please stay in the prep room and do everything 
you can to delay them.  Get campus security to try to stop them, 
arrange a sit-in downstairs, anything you can think of.  Just 
remember that the people directing this team are ruthless.  Don't 
put yourself or anyone else in any danger.  By the way, can you 
tell me what kind of experiments are carried out in this room?" 
     "I can't get very specific - national security and all that." 
The professor shook his head.  "Very generally speaking, we're 
doing some experiments involving the space-time continuum.  I 
don't feel comfortable saying any more than that.  All right, we'll 
do everything we can to slow the recovery team down.  As I said, 
I was here in '87."
     "Thank you."  Mulder frowned, feeling his typical 
exasperation with government secrecy. "Scully, let's go."  His 
face lightened as a new thought occurred.  "Too bad there's no 
People for the Ethical Treatment of Gargoyles, huh?"  He smiled 
while Scully groaned an exaggerated sigh.
     Neumann unlocked the door to the lab, took another 
look at the creature while they entered, then locked the door after 
them.  Mulder walked about half-way to the creature and sat on 
the floor.  The creature immediately came up to him, sat, and 
placed its hands on Mulder's palm and forehead again.  This time 
they were motionless for at least fifteen minutes.  The creature 
withdrew its hands, and Mulder looked up at Scully who was 
waiting across the room and called her over to them.
     His eyes were intense.  "Okay, decision time.  The 
Communicator, whose name is evidently Reinald, thinks he's 
figured out a way to get the creature back through the portal to 
its own reality.  He would like the two of us to accompany it - he 
thinks that only by our intercession can his Realm - and possibly 
the entire parallel reality -  be saved."  Mulder paused for a 
moment. 
     "I think we have to let the creature try to go back; it 
doesn't belong here and will probably be dissected inside of a 
week if it stays.  The portal may not function, in which case all of 
this is moot.  Or the portal may function improperly, in which 
case anything that goes through it may not arrive in the same 
condition it left here.  The creature is willing to give it a try. 
I've 
been honest with it about what may happen if it stays here."  He 
stared at her directly.  "I'm willing to give it a try, too."
     "Mulder, you're not serious.  You can't be serious about 
this." Scully looked from her partner to the creature, then back to 
Mulder again. But before he could respond, their attention was 
diverted by the sound of approaching sirens, squealing brakes, 
and shouted orders.
     "I'd like you to come with us, Scully." Mulder tried to 
ignore the noise, hoping he had time to convince her.  "Reinald is 
convinced that the chances of success improve dramatically if 
you're involved. He said something about a prophecy."
     Scully looked at him wide-eyed, hardly believing what 
she was hearing.  "Mulder, wake up.  This is not a dream and you 
are not, I repeat, NOT a magician.  We're not going, Mulder, 
neither of us.  If the creature wants to try a disappearing act, 
that's fine, but we - WE - are staying here."  Desperately, Scully 
looked for anything she could use to bring him to his senses, even 
if it meant playing dirty.  "Please, Mulder, you can't leave.  Your 
work is here.  And so am I."  By now, there was the sound of 
booted feet in the hallway.
     Mulder bit his lip and nodded, bitter disappointment 
etched into his face.  He looked at the creature, and they resumed 
their communication position for a minute.  Then the creature 
dropped its hands and closed its eyes.  They could hear sounds of 
shouting in the prep room.
     "Oh, God, I'm dizzy." Mulder's slender frame shook as 
he attempted to stand.  "Quick, Scully, help me up.  We have to 
move out of the way - the portal is going to op...."
     The recovery team from Hanscom kicked in the door to 
an empty lab. 

                         
                   -----------------

     
     Tarnor woke slowly, his entire body aching from head-
to-toe. His nose was pressed down into sweet smelling grass, his 
feet resting on a small tree root. Groaning, he slowly turned onto 
his back and blinked up at the canopy of bright green and yellow 
leaves over his head. Warm bright streams of sunlight filtered 
down, dancing through the whispering leaves and gently waving 
branches. 
     "Oooh, what a horrible dream," he muttered to himself, 
stumbling to his feet as he scratched the terminally itchy spot 
behind his right ear. It had seemed so real...
     "******," a throaty female voice grumbled behind him 
in a totally unfamiliar language. Tarnor spun around, ears flicking 
upright in shock as he watched a small red-haired woman dressed 
in utterly foreign clothing pull herself to her feet. By the Gods, 
the nightmare hadn't been a dream! It had been real! The spot 
behind his ear began to itch even harder as memories flooded 
him. If the woman was with him, then what had happened to the 
foreign magician?
     "********!!!," an aggrieved male voice shouted from 
above Tarnor's head. Oh no, he thought with dismay, his nose 
twitching. The magician had somehow ended up in a tree. He was 
stretched out on a thick tree branch, long arms and legs twined 
around it. Tarnor and the woman both stood up to their full 
heights, her head and shoulders above him, but neither anywhere 
close to reaching the increasing irritated man. Unfortunately, the 
tree he was suspended in was a large ancient oak with a several 
foot wide trunk and no branches close enough to the ground to 
enable one of them to climb up or for him to easily climb down. 
     Utterly confused as to why the Magician didn't simply 
levitate himself down, Tarnor watched in amazement as the two 
strangers started to converse loudly - or was it argue - in their 
strange, dissonant speech. The woman seemed to be somewhat 
amused with the predicament her companion was in, her thin 
human lips baring white even teeth in a grin. The man still 
clinging to the tree-limb frowned down at her, his strong human 
features settling into carved stone, his green-brown eyes turning a 
stormy black. His fiery aura blazed around him, swirling blue fire 
so bright that it made Tarnor's eyes ache just looking in his 
direction.
     Tarnor found himself shuddering with fear, slowly 
backing away. The woman must be either extraordinarily brave or 
truly foolhardy. One did not have fun at the expense of such a 
powerful sorcerer and walk away unharmed. Even Reinald, who 
was a truly white magician, had a deep sense of his own 
authority. One young mage-apprentice who had pulled a practical 
joke on his seemingly-pleasant master had quickly found himself 
pulling wagons in the shape of a donkey for two weeks. And that 
was mild. Tarnor had grown up on horror stories about what less 
merciful sorcerers did to people who angered them. Already he 
could sense the tension growing in the air.
     The sunlight fled as a menacing cloud slowly formed 
above their heads. The trees themselves seemed to pull back, the 
leaves twitching in the sudden calm. The air felt heavy and 
charged. The woman waved up at the stranded man, bending her 
head back and laughing. The moment her first peel of laugher 
echoed in the air the storm broke, a lightning bolt flashing from 
the boiling cloud lancing down to hit the ground a few inches 
from her feet. She screamed and jumped backwards, losing her 
balance and falling to the ground as the sky opened and dumped 
a flood of rain directly on her head. The storm lasted for a only 
few brief seconds, but was still enough to leave her totally 
drenched.
     Once the deluge was over, Tarnor peeked out around 
the tree he had taken shelter under during the short downpour. 
Somewhat wet himself, but definitely in a better mood, the 
magician was laughing down at the woman who was sitting 
dejectedly in a large puddle, her bright hair plastered to her head, 
her dark-blue clothing soaked limp and mud-splattered. Given the 
way her aura was glowing a bright fighter's green, Tarnor was 
grateful not to be getting the benefit of her furious glare. 
     "*************************," she said in an icy 
voice, her eyes stinging the still-giggling mage, who stopped 
laughing and grimaced in response. Then staring down at the 
ground about twice his height below him, he slowly pulled 
himself into a sitting position. Then he swung his legs around so 
that he was sitting on the branch with his feet dangling off the 
same side. Holding on with his hands, he swung himself 
backwards until he was hanging from his knees. To Tarnor's utter 
astonishment, he dropped his knees and spun around the branch, 
suddenly releasing himself and somersaulting to the ground, 
landing on his feet, knees bending down, hands swinging behind 
him to pick up some of the shock of the landing. He took a slight 
hop, throwing his arms back up in the air, then came to full stop, 
his face warming into a brilliant smile.
     Tarnor edged closer to the woman, his feet squishing in 
the mud, as the mage walked closer to her from the opposite 
direction. Tarnor stood motionless behind her, watching 
anxiously as the tall man extended a hand down to the still-sitting 
woman. She ignored the hand for a long tense moment, then gave 
a deep sigh of resignation and took it, accepting his help to regain 
her feet. Even fully standing, her head only reached top of his 
chest, and the fact that the odd spikes on the bottom of her shoes 
were sunk deep into the ground didn't help. But from the warmth 
in the mage's eyes as he helped her out of the mud suggested that 
the worst was over for the moment.
     Still, Tarnor was terribly confused and frightened. They 
were miles from safety, with minions of the dark ones spread 
throughout the woods, and he could hardly communicate with 
this extraordinary couple. If all that weren't enough, it was 
becoming slowly evident that this was a totally untrained talent. 
How anyone could have survived to adulthood with SO much 
power, but with absolutely no training was beyond Tarnor's 
comprehension. But it had to be so, because otherwise, surely, 
the mage would at least have sense enough to shield himself. Or 
was he so arrogant in his power that he thought nothing could 
harm him? Tarnor could only sure that he didn't like either 
possibility. Getting these two safely to Fairwoods Castle was not 
going to be fun.
                         - - - - -

     Dana Scully trudged along behind the strange, gray 
creature, her feet aching. She wasn't sure why she was following 
the odd-looking whatever-it-was, but Mulder had insisted, and 
she had nothing better to do but go along until she woke up. This 
was just an unusually vivid hallucination, she told herself again, 
even as she stumbled over a large tree root and nearly fell down. 
The gargoyle thing was at her side immediately, offering her a 
helping hand, which was more than she could say for Mulder who 
was rambling along behind them, studying everything he passed 
with great interest. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself.
     Back on her not too steady feet, Dana nodded thanks to 
the creature which bobbed his large head and spoke musically in 
an unfamiliar language. I ought to get this dream analyzed, Scully 
thought, my subconscious must be working overtime. But dream 
or not, she wanted out as quickly as possible. It was simply no 
fun being wet, dirty, and exhausted - dream or reality. She took a 
few more steps, then spotted a large boulder under a big leafy 
tree. Sighing with relief she turned towards it. She settled down 
onto the cool stone gratefully, pulling off her formerly navy blue 
pumps and eying them with annoyance. They had been her best 
pair of shoes, but now they were ruined. This had better be a 
dream, because otherwise she was really going to be mad. In the 
meantime, those heels had to go. Practical enough on tiled floors 
and concrete, they were functionally hopeless on dirt, grass, and 
tree roots. 
     Closing her eyes in pain, she banged the shoes against 
the rock she was sitting on until the heels came off. Just as she 
was about to put the now-flat shoes back on her sore feet, she 
felt, more than saw, Mulder perch himself on the rock beside her.
     "You okay, Scully?" he asked, his bright eyes wide with 
concern
     "No, Mulder," she said patiently, like an adult talking to 
a young child. "My new shoes are ruined, as is my favorite suit. 
I'm still wet, my hair is a mess, and my feet are killing me. I'm 
hungry, lost in the middle of a nightmare and I can't wake up. I 
am most certainly not okay."
     "I'm sorry, Scully," Mulder replied. "It's all my fault. If I 
hadn't passed out on you, we might have been able to get out of 
the room  before the vortex formed. You shouldn't be here." He 
gave her a dejected look.
     "I'm not convinced we're out of the room - or if we are, 
we're in a government lab somewhere getting pumped full of 
hallucinatory drugs. This has got to be a hallucination." She 
gestured expressively. "I'm just dreaming and I'll wake up soon."
     "Scully!" Mulder's voice rose in frustration. "This is 
hardly a hallucination. It's real." He banged hard on the rock. 
"How can you deny the evidence of your own eyes, your own 
senses?"
     "Very easily," she said, giving him an annoyed look and 
standing up abruptly. "And as far as I'm concerned you're just 
another figment of my imagination. But since I seem to be stuck 
in this for a while, we might as well get going to wherever it is 
we're going. Maybe I can at least dream myself up a shower and 
change of clothes, food and a clean bed." She stalked away, her 
back straight, head held high.
     Mulder shook his head and eased himself off the rock to 
follow her. Their 'guide' started off again, looking back at them 
every so often to make sure that they were following close 
enough behind it.
                         - - - - -

     The forest seemed endless. They wandered for hours, 
the grey-skinned creature always in the lead, stopping and 
waiting impatiently for them every time they fell behind, leaping 
on ahead when they caught up. He kept up a fast pace, his ears 
twitching as he rolled along though the heavy underbrush. The 
sunlight filtering down through the trees slowly began to wane, 
dusk turning what had seemed a bright, green, and warm place 
into a world of menacing shadows and twisted unfamiliar shapes. 
     Scully was lagging again, finally tired enough to put 
aside her annoyance and accept Mulder's offer of his arm. She 
leaned against him gratefully, admitting - albeit only to herself - 
that she was having a hard time holding onto the belief that this 
was only a dream. Her eyes closed once in exhaustion and she 
stumbled, falling to her knees with a cry of dismay.
     "Scully!" Mulder exclaimed, immediately bending down 
over her.
     "I'm okay. I'm okay," she said, though her face was 
screwed tight in pain. She felt like she wanted to cry.
     Mulder helped her up, then led her over to the shelter of 
a large oak. At least most of the plants seemed basically the same 
as those on earth, he thought, as they sat down among the roots 
and leaves. The 'gargoyle' as Mulder had come to think of him, 
bounced over to stand looking down at them. His tiny eyes 
studied them with what Mulder would have sworn was a look of 
impatience.
     "I'm sorry, my friend," he said wearily. "But we've had 
it. We've got to rest for a while. This seems like a nice enough 
place to make camp." Mulder looked around at the trees and 
bushes, thinking that it actually seemed exactly like every other 
bit of the forest they had trekked through for the past several 
hours.
     The 'gargoyle' looked over his shoulder, then back at 
them. Then he gave a sneezy sigh and came towards them, 
squatting down to sit close to Mulder's outstretched legs. Mulder 
smiled at him, putting his arm around Scully's shoulder guiding 
her head down to rest against his chest. She immediately closed 
her eyes and snuggled against him, her breathing becoming slow 
and steady as she drifted off to sleep.
     Mulder and the 'gargoyle' sat staring at each other for a 
while. The creature seemed almost expectant, like he was waiting 
for Mulder to do something. Could they communicate? Mulder 
hadn't tried since they'd arrived in this world, mostly because he 
didn't want to faint again. But now, since they were taking a rest 
anyway, maybe he could give it a try. But perhaps, they could 
start with something simpler first.
     When he was certain the gargoyle was watching him, he 
pointed to himself and said, "Mul-der,"slowly and clearly 
pronouncing each syllable. Then he pointed to Scully and said, 
"Scul-lee." He then slowly pointed his finger towards the 
'gargoyle,' who reacted instantly, pulling away and wrapping his 
hands around his face and cowering. Hmmm, Mulder thought, 
finger pointing must have a negative cultural significance. How 
could he do this without upsetting him?
     Mulder waited until the gargoyle peeked out through his 
arms, then offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He 
pressed the flat of his hand against his own chest and said again, 
"Mul-der." He pressed  his hand against Scully's shoulder and 
repeated, "Scul-lee." The creature's head poked out from behind 
his arms, his ears beginning to twitch. Mulder again repeated the 
movements and words slowly. Then, ever so slowly, he moved 
his hand towards the gargoyle, keeping fingers together, and 
pressed against his chest. The gargoyle recoiled again, but not as 
much as before. Mulder again repeated his circuit, 
"Mulder..Scully...;" he touched the creature again.
     Ears twitching even harder, the gargoyle bobbed his 
head. Opening his mouth, he spoke softly. "Mmool-dor. 
Ssskallee. Taaarnoor." Mulder grinned brightly as the sounds 
were repeated, this time accompanied by a mimicking of his hand 
motions. The excited creature pointed at Mulder, "Mooldar..." 
He pointed at Scully, "Skaallee...' He pointed at himself, 
"Tarnor."
     Mulder nodded and excitedly repeated: "Mulder, Scully, 
Tarnor!"
     Tarnor bobbed his head again, and bared large pointed 
teeth in smile. "Tarnor!"
                         - - - - -

     Raising its long nose into the wind, the large wolf-like 
creature drew back its red lips, baring long jagged fangs dripping 
with saliva. The droplets sizzled as they hit the grass below, 
burning the green foliage to black cinders. Eyes burning yellow, 
ears laid back against its black-furred head, it sniffed again, then 
let loose a horrific keening howl that was soon answered in kind 
by several others. It leaped up onto its powerful hind legs, which 
ended in three-inch long claws, and raced deeper into the forest, 
joining up with one, then another, then yet another sleek dark 
form. 
                         - - - - -
     Tarnor shivered in fear as his sensitive ears responded to 
the howls whistling in the wind. His entire body tensed as he 
recognized the sound. Soul-eaters! Several of them by the sound 
of it. Ignoring Mulder's startled reaction, the small gray gargoyle 
jumped to his feet and spun around, eyes darting from shadow to 
shadow. This was why it had pushed them so hard to try to get to 
the safety of a village or settlement before dark fall. It hadn't been 
particularly frightened of the more intelligent creatures of the 
dark - the force of Mulder's aura and the purity of the power that 
flowed like clear spring water from every pore of the alien 
magician's body would be enough to frighten them away. The 
hunters and destroyers might watch and wait in the shadows, but 
they would never dare attack such magical strength. 
     However, the soul-eaters were simple animals, driven 
solely by instinct. Mulder's wild, unshielded magic would smell 
like a rich source of food to them. Over the last few years, they 
had killed several newborn mages throughout the Realm. Tarnor 
shuddered, he had once seen the result of the attack of a pack of 
the soul-eaters on a small farm. Reinald had sent Tarnor to offer 
help and protection for the mage-gifted baby and its family, but 
he had arrived hours too late. There had been a large, empty 
crater where house and barn had once existed. Dying, the child 
had resisted the soul-eaters drain on her magic just long enough 
to blast them, herself, and her entire family into eternity. 
     Another series of wrenching howls split the air, and this 
time Mulder's human ears could hear them too. He shook Scully 
gently as he rose swiftly to his feet. "Tarnor?" he questioned, fear 
beginning to trickle its way down his spine. "What was that?" 
     He shook his head in frustration. Tarnor couldn't 
understand him, and he couldn't take the chance on the 
exhausting mental communication if danger threatened. If only 
there was a better way to communicate.
     "What...Mulder?" Scully murmured wearily, brushing a 
tangled knot of auburn hair out of her eyes.
     "I think we've got trouble," he replied, feeling for the 
security of his gun. She rubbed her sleep-filled eyes with the back 
of her hand, then came to sudden awareness as the keening wails 
grew louder in intensity. "Mulder, what was that?"
     "I don't know, Scully. But I don't like the sound of it, 
and neither does Tarnor." Mulder pointed to the little gargoyle 
who was standing nearby, stretched to his full - small - height 
with a large silver dagger clasped tightly in his right hand.
     "Tarnor?" Scully asked, glancing from her tall partner to 
the small creature and back again.
     "That's his name," Mulder replied. "We were able to 
exchange names while you were sleeping, but it looks there won't 
be time for anything more." Tarnor was moving again, waving at 
them to follow him as he pushed his way deeper into the heavy 
underbrush. Mulder and Scully eyed each other for a moment, 
but another high-pitched howl behind them sent them into rapid 
motion.
     Tarnor led them in a wild dash through the tangled 
woods, feeling his way almost by instinct. Scully was able to 
follow reasonably well, her small size helpful, although she often 
found herself falling, scrambling to her feet, and rushing forward 
only to fall again. The tender skin of her face, hands and arms 
became scratched and bruised by tree limbs, branches and thorns. 
One shoe got wedged in a tree-root, and she didn't even bother to 
try to dislodge it, she simply pulled her foot out of it and ran on. 
     Behind her, Mulder was having an even harder time of 
it, his height becoming a serious liability as Tarnor led them 
through low-hanging branches and dense thickets of a thorny, 
ivy-like brush that grew in huge rambling clumps. Trying to force 
his lanky frame through one such hedge, he lost sight of both 
Scully and Tarnor. Before he could finish weeding his way 
through the tangled brush, a scream rent the air. 
     "Scully!" he screamed, struggling against a thorn-
covered tangle that had penetrating far enough through his now-
ragged silk shirt to abrade the flesh of his chest. He tugged at it 
violently, hardly noticing the pain as the thorns bit deep into his 
hand. "Scully!"
     "Mulder...Aaaaaah!" her voice faded off into a screech, 
that was accompanied by a deep, inhuman growl. 
     "Scully!" he cried again in frustration, his shirt ripping as 
he was finally able to pull clear, emerging into a small, moonlit 
clearing.
     The scene that met his eyes in a that brief terrifying 
instant sent waves of shock, fear, and fury through his body. In 
the darkness of the forest night the yellow light of two bright 
moons filtered down through the leafy canopy to hit the ground 
in wavy striations. In one such patch of light, Tarnor was facing 
two large animals, with jagged fangs, glowing yellow eyes, and 
long wolf-like bodies. They circled him easily on their four legs, 
just out of range of the long, gleaming silver knife in his grasp.
     Back to back with Tarnor, Scully was balancing from 
shoed foot to bared foot, her clothes in rags, bright hair falling 
around her face in knotted tangles. Her blue eyes blazed defiantly 
out of her smudged face. She was holding a large broken tree 
limb in one hand and her spray-can of mace in the other. Facing 
her were two more of the creatures, one growling menacingly, 
the other whining as it pawed at its eyes.
     In that same instant that Mulder broke into the clearing, 
the two 'wolves' facing Tarnor attacked. His knife flashed in the 
dim light, accurately hitting one wolf dead in the eye. It yelped 
and fell, its weight tearing the knife hilt out of Tarnor's hand even 
as the other animal bit into his arm, lifing the small gargoyle up of 
the ground with a mighty twist of its large head and tossing it 
back to the ground. Tarnor's agonized scream as the bone of his 
forearm cracked broke Scully's concentration. As she reflexively 
turned her head to see what was happening behind her, the 
remaining unwounded beast struck out at her, knocking her to 
the ground with its front claws. Growling its triumph, it leapt 
over her, covering her body with its own.
     "No!" Mulder screamed, instinctively pulling out his gun 
and firing. The gun clicked repeatedly, but did not fire. "Damn 
it!" he cried, throwing the useless metal object to the ground and 
launching himself at the 'wolf' as its teeth dug through her clothes 
into the soft skin of her shoulder,  its poisoned saliva burning the 
skin of her neck. 
     Mulder came down on top of the beast, tightening his 
arms around its neck, pressing his fingers into the hollow of its 
throat with all of his panicked strength. It responded by shaking 
itself, pulling back just enough to turn around and glare at its 
attacker. Enraged hazel eyes clashed with maddened yellow orbs, 
then the beast abandoned the woman pinned beneath it and rolled 
over onto man still clenched to its back. Then it shook itself free 
of him, somersaulting over onto its powerful hind legs, then 
pushing upwards to stand over him. 
     The other two surviving 'wolves' swiftly joined it to 
form a circle around Mulder, pressing in on him with hunger in 
their glowing eyes. Mulder felt a sudden strange weakness over 
come in, much the same feeling he'd had after the psychic 
communications with Tarnor and Reinald back in the lab. A small 
detached part of his mind couldn't help thinking how far away 
that all seemed right now.
     "No, Mulder!!!!" Scully's voice barely penetrated the 
haze fogging his mind. It would be so easy to sleep now. So easy 
to just close his eyes...
     "MULDER!!!!!" The insistent sound of her voice kept 
breaking the spell. 
     "Scully?" He trembled in response to her demand, 
forcing his eyes to open. He was confronted by a pair of snarling 
beast-mouths full of huge pointed teeth and jagged fangs. The 
moisture from their mouths made his skin itch and burn. Backing 
slightly away, he again heard Scully crying his name over and 
over. Suddenly it was as though he could feel her pain and her 
fear. He could see the way he appeared to her eyes, feel the pain 
lancing through his/her shoulder, hear the beating of her heart 
and the choking sob of her breath. 
     "No!" He wasn't even sure which of them had said it, 
but it didn't matter. He was abruptly angry. Calmly, icily, furious. 
The rage swept through his mind and body, pushing out all the 
fear and pain and uncertainty before it. The torpor was replaced 
by a flood of energy which raced down every nerve of his body, 
firing synapse after synapse, like an electric charge through a 
power line. Each sinew of his body trembled as it fed the current, 
pressure building in his veins until they felt like they would burst. 
The power increased, building within him until he felt like he was 
about to burst into flames, his body shaking with the need for 
release. 
      Blue fire lanced across his skin, igniting the 
night in a firestorm of blinding blue light. The beasts let out 
horrific wails of terror, their attempts to flee failing as they went 
up in blazes of blue flame, burning into cinders in no more than a 
blink of an eye. Lightning bolts flashed from the sky, striking the 
ground in a pattern of electrical discharge, mixing clear white 
light with the deep blue fire that danced and twisted, twining 
around each thunderbolt as it struck from the sky. Huge black 
clouds occluded the moons, creating a deep blue fog that hovered 
and spread across the forest. Finally, a column of blue flame 
followed back up the path of a lightning strike, hitting the center 
of the cloud with a deafening bang. The ground shook slightly, 
then the heavens burst, sending a flood of water crashing down 
on top of three small forms laying still and trembling on the forest 
floor.
------------------------

                         
                   -----------------

     
     Pain lanced through Reinald's head as he slowly came to 
awareness. His next sensation was that of cold hard stone pressed 
against his nose and mouth. Groaning slightly, he lifted his head, 
only to feel a violent rush of nausea overwhelm him. Closing his 
eyes, he only barely held it down, whispering the chant of a basic 
restoration spell. The magic response was sluggish, trickling 
through his veins in slow drops. But finally the roiling fever in his 
belly receded, as did the pounding behind his temples.
     He succeeded in pulling himself to a sitting position, 
running long fingers through his shock of white hair. His ornate, 
brightly colored robe was crumpled and dusty, stained with ash 
and splotches of ink. The room was quiet and dark, the chalked 
diagrams on the floor smudged and broken. How long had he 
been unconscious? Reinald's head jerked upright, his eyes coming 
to sharp focus as the memories returned: Tarnor lost through the 
vortex, communication with a foreign intellect, the struggle to re-
open the vortex out of phase, the overwhelming backlash of 
energies through the link, followed by a deep black nothingness.
     Had the attempt succeeded? Had Tarnor and the 
foreigners made it through? Reinald needed answers, but he was 
hardly in shape to get up and walk, much less utilize his 
overextended magic. Resting his head in his hands, he sent up a 
silent prayer to the Gods to protect both his friend and the 
strangers until he could recover enough of his strength to help 
them.
     Struggling to his feet, Reinald fought another wave of 
nausea, stumbling over to the old, red-satin chair in the corner. 
Sinking into its rich padded comfort, he sighed, then reached for 
the cold pot of tea resting on a carved wooden table. Pouring the 
cold liquid into a small silver cup, he lifted it to his lips and 
forced it down, grimacing at the taste. Normally, he could have 
warmed it with a thought, now it was difficult to even bring it to 
his lips. But the spell-enhanced tea went to work almost 
immediately, giving him a warm rush of energy.
     He quickly downed the cupful, then filled and drained it 
two more times. Finally, he felt some of his strength beginning to 
return. He could pull upon the power node resting deep in the 
caverns below the castle, but he had already put enough of a 
strain on it in the previous months, and felt that it would be better 
for him to handle this under his own power if at all possible. 
     Feeling his muscles ache after the many hours spent 
sleeping on the cold stone floor, Reinald got to his feet and 
weeded his way through the clutter to a high, blue velvet-covered 
pedestal. Placing both hands along the edges, he leaned over it 
for a few minutes, eyes closed, body swaying slightly as he 
concentrated. Swiftly removing the cloth, the prematurely white-
haired magician stared down into the Oracle Cloud, using all of 
his weakened power to focus on the missing Tarnor. Where was 
his old friend?
     The soft white light in the large, perfectly spherical 
glass-like orb flashed, then faded. Slowly an image took shape. A 
small moonlit clearing in the great woods, into which burst a 
small gray figure brandishing a large silver knife. Stumbling after 
it came the slightly larger form of a human woman, her odd-
looking clothes ripped and dirty, her face filled with anguish and 
uncertainty. As she turned to look behind her, four large shapes 
dove out of the trees in front of them. Reinald watched in horror 
as the battle commenced, gargoyle and woman fighting a losing 
battle against the four dark beasts.
     Reinald tensed himself, knuckles whitening as his hands 
gripped the sides of the orb violently, trying to reach out with his 
remaining power to offer whatever help he could. Before he 
could even begin a man burst through out of the thickets and 
dived in on top of the animal assaulting the woman. As it turned 
to engage this new adversary, the man's aura suddenly blazed up 
in a blinding blue flash of color. Reinald gasped in shock, his eyes 
widening at such a display of unshielded power. The soul-eaters 
immediately abandoned Tarnor and the woman, circling in on the 
unfamiliar magician. In response to their attention, his aura began 
to fade, energy leeching into the dark hollow centers of the beasts 
as they hungrily devoured the mage-energy.
     "No!" Reinald shouted, his voice ringing against the 
vaulted ceiling of his work-room. Again he tried to reach out 
with aid, but his strength was failing. He cried out in frustration, 
forced to stand by and watch as a much-needed possible ally was 
slowly destroyed. 
     But abruptly the tide turned. Reinald felt his jaw drop as 
the woman's greenish-brown aura reached out to the blinking 
blue aura of the weakening mage, steadying its color and 
enriching its tone. A mix of blue and green and brown swirled for 
a moment, then broke in bright blue flash that nearly blinded 
Reinald's magic-sensitive eyes. Shielding his face with his arm, 
Reinald sensed more than saw the growing Mage-storm, feeling 
every nerve in his body tingle in response to the intensity of the 
power being focused and released several long miles away.
     Bright blue light illuminated the entire chamber in a 
violent flash, then was gone. Reinald slowly lowered his 
protective arm and blinked as his eyes slowly readjusted to the 
dimmed light. When he could see clearly, he peered back down 
into the darkened Oracle Cloud, amazed to see three figures 
stirring on the water-lashed ground, large scorched area marking 
the spots where the soul-eaters had been consumed. 
     For now, they had survived, though Reinald knew there 
were other dangers lurking in the miles of forest between the 
three and the safety of Fairwood Keep. There had to be a way of 
getting them here faster. If Reinald had his full strength, he could 
have easily constructed a Gate and brought them here instantly. 
But now that was out of the question. He could use the castle's 
power node, but that would mean draining it to a dangerously 
low level. If only there were another way.
     Reinald recovered the Oracle Cloud and slowly 
wandered back to his favorite chair. Once seated he reached for a 
large, heavy book with an intricately-carved metal binding. 
Perhaps, there was another way.
                         - - - - -
     
     Fox Mulder was the first to awaken. Curling over onto 
his side, he cradled his aching head in his right arm. Ever so 
slowly he opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as things slowly 
wavered into focus. 
     "Scully!" he cried out, but his voice came out of 
chapped lips in a hoarse whisper. Pressing hands down into the 
thick deep soil, he struggled to his knees, then awkwardly 
scrambled over on all fours to his partner. She lay shivering in a 
fetal position, right hand wrapped tight around her bloody left 
shoulder. Her face was half-hidden by a knot of matted dark-red 
hair, her lips moving, but soundless, her breath coming in choking 
gasps. Mulder kneeled over her, brushing the hair out of her face 
with a gentle sweep of his hand.
     "Mulder," she gasped, rolling over to face him. "I'm 
okay, I think." She shuddered as she came to a sitting position, 
leaning gratefully against the warmth of his body. She pulled 
away the blackened edges of blue and white cloth from her 
wounds, grimacing in pain. Deftly, she examined the wounds, 
sighing with relief as she realized the beast's teeth had not done 
more than lacerate her skin, causing it to bleed profusely. Her 
biggest problem seemed to be a total lack of anything to bind the 
wound with. But Mulder was ahead of her, already stripping of 
his jacket. "Here, do what you can with this, I'm going to check 
on Tarnor."
     She nodded, taking the already ripped jacket from him 
with a smile of thanks.
     He squeezed her undamaged shoulder with his right 
hand briefly, glancing over at Tarnor who was already sitting up, 
clutching at his left arm which hung from the elbow at an 
impossible angle. His skin had turned from a lustrous gray to a 
dusty black and his ears lay flat and limp against his head. Mulder 
closed his eyes in sympathy, then opened them again, the irises 
turning as black as the dark-widened pupils. Brushing with 
annoyance at the bangs glued to his forehead with the back of his 
forearm, he stood up and went over to Tarnor, kneeling down 
beside him.
     Mulder gave the wounded gargoyle as reassuring a smile 
as he could, then he pulled the ragged already undone tie off his 
neck and peered around him, searching for a usable piece of 
wood. Finally he spotted a broken tree limb not far from his 
reach. Grabbing it, he turned back to Tarnor, only to be faced 
again with the communication problem. However, Tarnor seemed 
to understand what Mulder meant to do, and he bobbed his head, 
his ears perking up a couple of inches.
     "Okay, little one. I'll try not to hurt you too much," 
Mulder spoke soothingly, hoping that at least the sound of his 
voice would let Tarnor know he didn't want to hurt him. Tarnor 
screwed his face up in a tight grimace, slowly extending the 
broken arm towards Mulder who rested the tie and branch on his 
knees and carefully reached out to touch Tarnor's arm. Working 
as quickly, yet gently as he could, he examined the wounds, 
relieved to find that though the gargoyle was bleeding, the teeth 
marks did not appear to be deep. The worst of the injury was the 
obviously broken bone, and once that was splinted, Tarnor ought 
to be all right for a while.  He met Tarnor's eyes, then looked 
down at the arm, then back up into the gargoyle's tiny grey eyes. 
Tarnor's eyes blinked, then met Mulder's square arm, somehow 
managing to indicate understanding. 
     "Well, better get it over with," Mulder said, even though 
he knew Tarnor wouldn't understand. He held the creature's arm 
as gently as he could, to avoid moving the splintered bone and 
causing Tarnor even more agony, and picked up the tree limb. 
Holding it against Tarnor's arm, with one hand, he firmly looped 
the thin strip of material that had once been a silk tie around it, 
splinting the arm. 
     "Not bad, Mulder, for an amateur." Scully had finished 
binding her shoulder with strips of cloth torn from his ruined 
jacket. She sat down behind him and eyed Tarnor anxiously. 
"Though I suppose I'm as much an amateur in 'gargoyle' medicine 
as you are." Mulder couldn't help smiling at the mix of frustration 
and curiosity in her voice. At least it seemed she was finally 
accepting the reality of their situation, even though it was a 
reality he was beginning to dislike intensely.
     Mulder sat back on his heels and looked anxiously 
around him. The rain had finally stopped, thank goodness, but 
they were still lost in the middle of the deep forest, probably 
miles form any source of help, even if he'd had any idea of which 
direction to go. No chance that his cellular phone would work, 
Mulder thought grimly, eyeing the surrounding trees with 
distrust. There had actually been a time when he had liked 
forests, but right now he'd had more than enough of them for 
several lifetimes.
     Scully gave a choking gasp, her body convulsing.  
     "Scully!" he cried, reaching out to pull her into his 
embrace. "What's wrong?"
     "I...I don't know," she replied through gritted teeth. "I 
feel like my shoulder is burning from the inside." 
     Mulder kept one hand around her waist as he probed at 
her shoulder with the other. A tight knot formed in his belly as he 
suddenly noticed the charring of both the cloth and the skin 
around the wounds. His hand crept up to his own neck, as a 
burning itch made itself known in spots along his throat and chin. 
Poison! The beasts' saliva must contain some kind of toxin. Since 
he was not feeling more than some surface discomfort, it must be 
necessary for the the poison to enter the bloodstream as it had in 
both Scully and Tarnor. 
     Scully met his eyes, obviously coming to the same 
conclusion as he had. The fear and worry in her deep blue eyes 
made him feel sick. They didn't know for sure that the toxin was 
deadly, but it was a pretty safe bet, especially since they were 
probably miles away from any source of medical assistance.
     Mulder felt an intense but familiar sense of guilt wash 
over him. Why was he always the one who survived, while 
everyone he cared about was hurt or lost. He should be the one 
poisoned, not Scully, or even Tarnor. Mulder had come to like 
the funny little creature in the short time he'd known him. They'd 
barely had the chance to begin to communicate. It just wasn't 
fair!
     Mulder sat in a dejected silence for a several long 
moments, wallowing in a pit of anguish, guilt and despair. Scully 
sat equally still, watching him, her mind churning, even as she felt 
herself begin to weaken as the poison spread. The odd thing was 
that she was more worried about him than she was about herself. 
He had already lost so much, losing her could destroy him. And 
that was if his own overblown guilt didn't do the job first.
     'Sitting here and feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to 
do you - or us - any good," she chided. "So get up off your sorry 
butt and do something!"
     'Just what am I supposed to do?' he asked, the sound of 
their voices unnaturally loud among the muted rustles of the 
leaves and the pitter-patter of water dripping off the trees.
     'Get help, you idiot!' she replied, her voice breaking off 
into a series of painful gasps, as another set of convulsions 
rocked her body.
     "Scully!" he cried, reaching out to take her back into his 
arms, stoking her head until the shaking subsided. He watched 
her, cradling her, as she slowly slipped into an uneven sleep.
     'I have to get help. I will get help,' he whispered, 
wishing he had even the slightest idea how.
     But the power of his brilliant intellect was already 
focusing in on the problem at hand. Consider the situation, he 
told himself:  you're lost, you have two seriously injured people, 
there appears to be no one around for miles, you have no physical 
means of communication over any distance, no transportation. If 
only...
     Of course! Mulder's head jerked upright, his eyes 
glittering with reflected moonlight. Maybe, just maybe he could 
reach the other person he'd talked with through Tarnor back in 
the lab. It would be difficult without Tarnor, Mulder didn't even 
know how to start, but if they'd been able to communicate 
through the vortex, it ought to be easier when they were both in 
the same world. Though, that was assuming they were in the 
same world. But he didn't have any better ideas, so nothing was 
lost by trying this one.
     Mulder looked around him for a moment, then sighed 
and let go of Scully. He stretched himself out on the ground, his 
hands resting by his sides, then closed his eyes, and took a series 
of deep breaths. After a few moments of attempting to calm 
down, he gave up on the hopeless effort and simply tried to focus 
on calling out to that other mind. His photographic memory 
clicked into gear, supply a detailed record of the sound and feel 
of that voice. A series of hazy images flashed against the back of 
his eyelids: a shock of white hair, chalk drawings on a gray-stone 
floor, a deep, musical voice, a large glowing round orb. "Please 
answer me, we need help. If anyone is there, we need help. Help 
me please, help me, help..."
                         - - - - -

     Reinald's head snapped up as the heavy book slid out of 
his fingers and fell onto his feet with a bang. His head filled with 
the pleading cry for assistance that echoed loudly in his mind, 
Reinald didn't even notice the pain. Impatiently kicking the huge 
tome aside, he focused completely on that voice, grabbing hold of 
it mentally, as he fought his way over to the Oracle Cloud, 
ignoring the crash of several bottles he accidentally knocked off 
of a nearby table.
     Pulling off the velvet covering, he placed his hands on 
either side of the glowing orb and threw his thoughts back down 
that link, feeling the other mind recoil in surprise at the 
unexpected contact.
     "I'm here!" he replied. "I can hear you."
     
                         - - - - -
     Mulder's eyes flew open as a strong, clear voice spoke 
in his head, responding to his call for help. This wasn't like the 
faint link he'd had before, this was like having a microphone 
inserted into his skull. He could FEEL the other mind touching 
his, a sensation he couldn't even begin to describe, even to 
himself. He was assaulted by an intensity of sensations, each 
piling on top of the last, until he wasn't sure which of him/them 
was laying prone on the forest floor and which was standing with 
his hands tightly gripping a smooth clear ball.
     "Take it easy, it's okay," the voice in his mind soothed, 
the sound toning down in volume.
     "Tell me your situation," it continued, gently persuasive.
     "We're lost in the woods somewhere, I have no idea 
where. We were attacked by these wolf-like creatures." A picture 
of the beast with its slavering, fanged mouth and brutal eyes 
swam in front of his eyes, and with it came a sudden sense of 
recognition and a name, 'soul-eater.' Mulder shook his head 
briefly, then forced himself to continue, just barely beginning to 
get hold of this silent, but vivid form of communication.
     "The 'soul-eaters' attacked my friends, breaking Tarnor's 
arm and gouging Scully's shoulder. The wounds aren't too bad, 
but I think they've been poisoned." Reinald shook with anger and 
grief as those images flooded his mind. But Mulder was still 
mind-speaking in a panicked rush of words and images. "Those 
things surrounded me. I thought I was dying, but Scully kept 
calling me, so I tried to get away"  Even his mindvoice trembled. 
"...I don't know exactly what happened next, but it felt like I was 
burning up inside. There was this flash of blue light, then I must 
have fainted. When I woke up the beasts were gone. But Scully 
and Tarnor are burning up. I don't know if there is a way to 
counteract the poison. They need a doctor immediately."
     The concept of a 'doctor' was accompanied by a serious 
of almost frightening alien images. Reinald tried to grasp hold of 
the basics, and sighed with relief as he finally understood. Of 
course, he should have realized by context, a 'doctor' was a kind 
of healer. 
     "Yes, I understand," he mindspoke back along the 
wavering link. "The 'soul-eaters' poison can be treated by any 
good healer, if it is gotten to before it reaches the brain. Our 
biggest problem is getting to you in time."
     "How long have we got?" Mulder asked, panic warring 
with hope. "Do you have any idea how much distance between 
us?" This thought was colored by a sense of amazement that they 
were talking at all. That emotion caused Reinald his own quick 
moment of surprise, but it was put aside for later. Reinald 
considered the question, his mind ranging along the link.
     "A couple of hours at the most, maybe less for Tarnor, 
because he's smaller. Unfortunately, you are about three days 
walk from here; one, maybe one and a half days by horse," he 
replied. His voice took on a deep note of regret as he added, "I 
wish we could set up a Gate."
     "Gate?" Mulder questioned, now the one struggling with 
an unfamiliar concept.
     "A magic portal between two locations. I know how to 
build one, but it usually takes two magicians, and a great deal of 
energy. I used up most of mine opening the vortex out of its 
natural phase, and I don't know what your energy level is. 
Destroying the soul-eaters must have drained you to some 
extent."
     Mulder frowned in concentration, trying to grasp the 
images that accompanied the words. Luckily he had an extremely 
vivid imagination, it leaped into the gaps, building bridges that 
might not be real, but would hold for the moment. "If we had a 
Gate, how long would it take us to get from here to there?"
     "No time at all - it would be instantaneous," Reinald 
answered, his face settling into mirror-image of Mulder's frown, 
deep-etched grooves wrinkling the skin around his eyes. He had 
had too much to frown about in the past year.
     Mulder nodded. "Okay, then show me how to make this 
Gate thing."
     "It's not that easy," Reinald protested. "It takes years to 
learn just the basic theory."
     "We don't have time for that, now," Mulder insisted 
with calm determination. If this was what it took to save Scully, 
then he was going to do it. No matter what it did to him. "Just 
show me how it's done."
     Reinald thought furiously for a moment, his mind going 
in circles. The other mage's grim certainty pricked at the edge of 
his mind like a sharp sword's edge. Fully trained magicians had 
died in the backlash of badly constructed gates, but on the other 
hand, all three were certainly dead if they didn't try. The long-
distance transportation spell he'd been searching for might be 
strong enough to bring through the small gargoyle, but definitely 
not the two humans. And there was no certainty that it could 
bring anyone through alive. He took a deep breath and gritted his 
jaw.  He could not stand by and let them die. There was no other 
option, he decided, sending a wave of acceptance down the link.
     "This is not going to be easy. It will take perfect 
concentration, and you must NOT let go of your end. Do not let 
anything interfere, or we're both dead." Mulder swallowed 
nervously, doubt beginning to curl its way into the pit of his 
stomach. One quick glance at Scully's pale face tightened his 
resolve, and he sent the mental equivalent of a nod down the link. 
"I understand."
     "All right," Reinald said, adjusting his position above the 
globe. He closed his eyes and began to send a flood of images 
down the link, letting his last memory of building a Gate wave 
over them both. Mulder pushed up into a standing position, his 
hazel eyes focused inward as he absorbed every detail, using his 
eidetic memory to lock them into place. Finally the deluge slowed 
to a crawl, then sputtered to a stop.
     "Do you understand?" Reinald's mindvoice was tinged 
with mixture of worry and determination
     "I...I think so," Mulder answered, not in the least certain 
that he understood anything at all.
     Reinald paused for a brief moment, to find his center 
and take another deep breath. "I'll start, be ready."
     "I'll be ready." Mulder mindspoke firmly. For Scully, he 
thought grimly. He would make this work for Scully.
                         - - - - - 
     
     Even braced as he was for it, the sudden blast of power 
was overwhelming. Mulder sank to the ground under the weight 
of it, grappling for control. White and blue flames swirled around 
his body, running up and down the lengths of his arms and legs, 
sparks flying from his finger tips, as he fought to wrap his mind 
around the wayward energy. It was too much, he thought with 
panic, he was going to fail, and Scully would die because of his 
failure. Grief and anger washed over him, propelling him to reach 
just a little deeper into mental reserves he had never known he 
possessed. 
     Straining until the blue of his veins stood out in sharp 
relief under his pale skin, until his brain felt like it would burst
out 
of his skull, Mulder finally was able to seize onto the power. It 
was like a door opening in his mind, suddenly he just knew how 
to manipulate the power. Under his wavering, but increasingly 
determined control, the power surged and tightened, forming into 
a blazing column of light surrounding his quaking body. Relief 
bringing the salty sting of tears to his eyes, he pulled himself to 
his feet, his mind holding onto the stream of magical energy like a 
drowning man hanging onto a floating tree limb.
     Once on his feet, he simply held it for a while, sensing 
the wildness of the magic begin to calm into an steady, even flow 
of bright light. He held out his hands and watched the blue and 
white flames shimmer up and down his arms, amazed that he felt 
nothing more than an intense warm glow, much like the sun on a 
hot summer day. Hysterical laughter bubbled up out of him, as he 
couldn't help wondering what Skinner would say if he could see 
this. But time was short. In shimmer of the magic, he could see 
Scully's skin turning a splotchy, angry red.
     Choking off his laughter, Mulder took a deep breath and 
reviewed Reinald's instructions. He needed to 'ground' it. That 
idea was accompanied by an image of the magic light burrowing 
into the earth. Okay, he thought, I ought to be able to do that. 
Closing his eyes, he tightened his mental hold on the power and 
relived that image. Down, down, into the earth he pushed the 
light, pressing with all his strength.
     The magic shivered and circled around him, resisting the 
push, but finally acceding to his will. Streams of blue fire merged 
into the soil, sending up sparks as it hit the ground, then weaved 
its way downward, disappearing below the surface. Mulder 
pushed for what seemed an eternity, until he gasped for breath in 
a whistling rush, his lungs fighting for the air he had unknowingly 
been denying them.
     The magic column shivered, and nearly flew backwards, 
but as Mulder drew sweet air into his lungs, he gave it one final 
mental push and it held. He took a couple more breaths, then 
checked it again. To his surprise it was still and quiet, anchored 
deep in the ground. He gave it one more downward twist, then 
relaxed, sliding down into the cool, wet forest floor in near-
exhaustion.
     Long moments slid by as he fought to remain conscious.  
Bending his head down between his knees, he heaved violently, 
his empty stomach convulsing. A few drops of stomach acid 
dripped from his mouth, and he spat them away in disgust. At this 
point, the pain was almost a comfort because it kept him awake. 
There was too much left to do. He hadn't come this far to fail 
now.
     Battling against a wave of dizziness, he somehow got 
back to his feet. He paused there for a moment, then pulling on 
the last vestiges of his strength, buoyed only by an intense 
stubborn determination, he again reached out for the power. 
Seizing a current, he tossed it a few feet across the current, his 
mind flowing with it as it hit the ground. Again, he pushed it 
downwards, surprised to find the anchoring to be easier this time. 
Just one more push and a wrenching twist, and it was done.
     Mulder stepped back and studied the flaming arch with 
widened eyes. Voracious gusts of wind, disturbed by the 
presence of the mage-energy, whipped at his body, tore at his 
dark hair and ragged clothes, sent sparks of light flying from the 
shimmering half-circle. But again, as bone-achingly tired as he 
was, there was yet more to do. Stepping into the center of the 
arch, Mulder reached for the now-familiar mindlink, gasping in 
relief as he felt approval and reassurance flow into his nearly-
drained mind.
     "Good, good," Reinald felt a silly grin growing on his 
face. He had had some chilling moments as he could only watch 
and pray that the young, untrained talent could keep his control. 
But somehow the young mage had, and there was only one last 
step to take. "Send it to me!" he commanded, bracing his feet on 
the floor as he felt Mulder's mind begin to focus in response.
     A blast of white fire hit him, and Reinald staggered 
under its weight for a brief moment, before he bent it to his will. 
Straining, his still-weakened body screaming in protest, he bent 
the stream of power, twining into the original blue flame that he 
had created earlier, arching the magical braid into a perfect semi-
circle. Then with a practiced mental twist, he grounded it into the 
stone floor, creating a mirror image to the arch facing Mulder in 
the far distant woods.
                         - - - - -

     Mulder gave in to the tears as he watched the center of 
the arch begin to cloud up. The air itself seemed to bend and 
ripple, finally forming into a a shimmering curtain through which 
he could see a large, cluttered room with huge stained glass 
windows, vaulted ceilings, and walls lined with books. Until this 
very moment, a small part of him had not believed this was 
possible, but there it was right in front of his blinking, streaming 
eyes.
     He rubbed at his eyes with a dirt-encrusted hand, 
spreading streaks of mud across his cheeks, even as a smile broke 
its way onto his face. Through the 'curtain' he could see a tall, 
middle-aged man with a bright shock of white hair, and weary, 
heavily-lined face staring at him with an expression of amazed 
relief. They stared at each other for a moment, then the white-
haired man moved quickly through the portal and grabbed onto 
Mulder as his legs finally gave way. 
     "Easy, easy," Reinald said gently, putting his arm under 
Mulder's to hold him up. "You did even better than I'd hoped. 
Let's get you into the castle." 
     "No, no," Mulder protested weakly. He turned to look 
behind him at the two unconscious forms on the ground. 
"Scully...and Tarnor. Help them. Must help them." his voice was 
barely audible.
     "I will," Reinald reassured him, half-dragging him 
towards the shining Gate. "You go through first, then I'll get the 
others."
     "No," Mulder pulled himself free of the other's grasp 
and stumbled, wavering like a drunk, towards Scully's prone 
body. Obviously, during his precoccupation with the Gate she 
had remained unconsciousness. Perhaps that was for the best he 
thought, wearily, falling to his knees beside her. He reached out 
to take her into his arms, relieved to feel her stir and wiggle 
against him. Then, with no conscious comprehension of anything 
except the need to bring her to safety, he managed to draw her 
limp, unresisting body over his shoulder and stagger to his feet.
     Reinald ran to help him, but Mulder nodded him away, 
angling his head towards Tarnor, not wanting to waste a single 
breath on speech. Reinald studied him for a brief moment, but 
noting the glitter of determination in those burning diamond eyes, 
accepted Mulder's decision and went to pick up Tarnor. Step by 
weary step, both men carried their  precious burdens through the 
Gate.
                         
                         
                   -----------------


     The young brown-haired human, clothed in a mage-
apprentice's blue and grey, stood protectively in front of the thick 
oak doors. "You can't go in there!" he insisted, yet again. 
     "Something's gone wrong. What if the Dark Lords have 
attacked, or what if Reinald has let some dangerous creature in, 
or opened a Gate to The Goddess knows where. We have to 
protect the Prince..." The small round man continued to babble, 
his protruding belly jiggling with every expansive motion of his 
bejeweled hands. Behind him the Royal Guard Captain snorted. It 
wasn't like Drellor was going to lead the charge. It was a 
standing castle joke that the Prince's uncle couldn't even lace his 
own boots without help. He'd make a lot of noise and make sure 
he was nearby to claim any glory, but he'd never put one fat 
finger in jeopardy. Right now Drellor was probably dreaming 
about replacing Reinald as Regent.  
     Captain Jourdain frowned deeply. Unfortunately, the 
scheming fool might be right this time. Much as Jourdain 
respected the Regent/Mage, it was beginning to appear that 
Reinald had finally gotten in over his head. First he had shut 
himself in his workroom, barring the door, followed by a serious 
of loud explosions and a horrendous thunderstorm. Then there 
had been silence for most of the day, with no sight or sound from 
Reinald. And now all evidence pointed to the creation of a Gate 
here. In the castle itself, against all the rules. And a very unsteady 
Gate from the amount of backlash every magic-sensitive person 
in the area was feeling. Jourdain did not like the situation at all.
     Finally fed up with Drellor's ridiculous posturing, the 
big, muscled Captain pushed the little man aside and strode up to 
look down at Reinald's newest apprentice. "Look here, Grejor. I 
know Reinald told you not to let anyone in, and normally you 
couldn't make me disturb a working magician for all the gold in 
the Realm. But something is wrong here, and I have to find out 
what before it becomes a serious threat to the Prince. You are 
going to have to let us in."
     Before Grejor could respond, there was a loud creaking 
noise and the door slowly began to swing inwards. Drellor let out 
a squeak of alarm and scurried back behind two of the armed 
guards. Grejor moved over beside the Captain, only the darting 
of his eyes and the sweat beading up on his lower lip betraying 
his uncertainty and fear.
     The wave of relief was nearly audible as Reinald peeked 
his white-haired head out the door. Barely noticing the soldiers, 
his eyes fastened on the slender brown form of his apprentice. 
"There you are Grejor. Good. We've got some company and they 
need medical assistance immediately. Better go get Healer 
Corvay."
     Grejor and Jourdain just gaped at Reinald. His hair 
stood on end and his normally immaculate robe was covered in 
filth. Reinald ignored the open-mouthed stares, chiding Grejor 
briskly. "Move along there young fellow. We need the Healer 
here now!" His voice rose on the last word, his eyes flashing in 
emphasis. Trained to follow his master's orders, Grejor jerked in 
response, blurting "Yes, Mage," as he fled down the hall.
     "Now look here, Reinald," Jourdain said to the 
magician's back as he let go of the door and hurried back into the 
room. Jourdain caught the door before it shut fully in his face and 
pushed his way past it. Half-way across the threshold, he stopped 
short in his tracks, a look of utter amazement filling his blue eyes. 
The bright shimmering arch of a Gate filled the center of the 
room, opening into a small forest glade. Just this side of the Gate 
were three people, the small familiar figure of a gray gargoyle 
and two completely unfamiliar humans, dressed in the remnants 
of odd-looking garments. Both the gargoyle and one of the 
humans, a woman, were laying on the floor shivering with fever, 
their eyes glazed and skins flushed red. Leaning over the woman 
was a tall, slender man with disheveled dark hair and eyes of a 
color Jourdain couldn't quite identify. But what disturbed 
Jourdain the most was the sense of raw, uncontrolled power that 
surrounded him. 
     "Ahhh, Captain, Good. I didn't notice you were there." 
Reinald finally looked up and saw the bulky soldier. "Better give 
me a hand here. You do know some basic healing spells don't 
you?"
     "I'm a soldier, Reinald, not a healer. I can't do more that 
a simple stasis spell." Jourdain shut the door behind with a 
deliberate shove, noting with some pleasure that it slammed right 
into Drellor's big nose.
     "The two are not necessarily separate, Captain. But for 
now that will do. You take Tarnor and I'll see to Scully." Reinald 
hurried over to the two humans and began the simple chant.
     "That's only a prophecy, Reinald!" Jourdain protested, 
but another quick glance at the wounded gargoyle convinced him 
not to waste time. He went to kneel by Tarnor's side and joined 
Reinald in the chant, their two voices singing in syncopated 
round, punctuated by annoying knocks on the door.
     The spells took hold as a soft brown shimmer of light 
surrounded both Scully and Tarnor. Mulder watched the 
procedure anxiously, then as Reinald pulled away, he reached up 
to grab onto Reinald.
     "What happened? What did you do to her?"
     Jourdain listened in surprise as the strange man spoke 
rapidly in an utterly foreign language, heavy with hard 
consonants. To his further amazement, Reinald answered back 
fluently in the same language.
     "We put them into stasis until the Healer can get here. 
That will at least keep them from deteriorating further."
     "Stasis? You mean something like cryogenic freezing?" 
Mulder asked, trying to grasp the concepts without the aid of the 
psychic link.
     Reinald frowned. His language spell gave him basic 
fluency in their odd language, but those words didn't quite 
translate well. Something to do with intense cold, he shook his 
head. "I'm sorry..." Further explanations were interrupted by the 
near-breathless arrival of Grejor with the brown-clad form of the 
Healer in tow, Drellor following closely behind. Jourdain pushed 
past the Healer, grabbing Drellor by the front of his robe before 
the little fat man could open his mouth. Without a word, Jourdain 
shoved the gaudily-clad noble out the door and shut it in his face, 
knowing he might have to pay for the act later, but not minding 
in the least. Whatever revenge Drellor tried to exact would be a 
small price to pay for not having to listen to the mindless fool 
now.
     "What's this about, Reinald?" Healer Corvay asked as he 
crossed the room, the annoyed look dropping from his face as 
soon as he saw the two figures in stasis on the floor. "By the 
Gods!" he swore, shoving Grejor aside to rush to his new 
patients. "What happened?"
     "Soul-eaters." Reinald said matter-of-factly. Even the 
seasoned warrior, Jourdain, shuddered at that thought. Those 
beasts were enough to frighten anyone.
     "How did they get away?" Corvay asked as he banished 
the stasis spells and reached out to touch Tarnor and Scully,  
writhing as their pain seeped into his body.
     "Mulder blasted them, but not before they bit Tarnor 
and Scully." Reinald responded. Mulder had been following the 
incomprehensible exchange closely, and he glanced up at the tall 
Mage in response to the sound of his name.
     "Just explaining what happened," Reinald soothed. 
"Corvay is an excellent Healer. If anyone can help them, he can." 
Mulder nodded, having no choice but to accept what Reinald said 
at face value. Suddenly the lost agent felt an overwhelming 
fondness for modern hospitals, even though he normally avoided 
them whenever possible. Right now he'd give his right arm for 
one.
     Corvay looked startled at the rapid exchange on the 
unfamiliar language, but he quickly focused back on his two 
patients. Closing his eyes, he stabilized their sleeping patterns, 
then reached with his mind, Tarnor first and then the woman, to 
find the nerves leading to their damaged extremities and closed 
them off to dull the pain. Then, he reached into Tarnor's 
bloodstream and began the slow process of targeting the poison 
for destruction, encouraging the gargoyle's own immune defenses 
to recognize the toxin as a foreign entity to be destroyed. 
Satisfied it was beginning to work, he then did the same for 
Scully, his mind pushing at the tiny living cells circulating in her 
blood, encouraging natural antibody production to speed up, 
helping more of the necessary cells to proliferate and migrate to 
the contaminated areas.
     As Corvay worked, lost in the minutiae of his patients 
bodies, Jourdain caught Reinald's attention with a series of angry 
questions. "What do you mean, 'Mulder' blasted them? And why 
did you build a Gate here? You know they're not allowed within 
the castle! What are you up to, Reinald?"
     "I didn't have any choice," the magician responded, 
giving the big soldier an annoyed glare. Jourdain took it calmly, 
giving as good as he got. Reinald sighed and perched himself on 
the edge of a table, and began to explain.
     "Tarnor was scouting for me in the woods, when he ran 
into a pack of Hunters and Destroyers. Left with no other choice, 
I told him to chance the vortex."
     "You what?!" Jourdain exclaimed.
     "He couldn't let them catch him, he knows too much. 
Anyway, he got through the portal just fine."     
     "Through to where?" Jourdain questioned with slightly 
narrowed eyes.
     "To an alternative Realm, and not The Dark Place, 
thank the Gods. I still don't know much about the place he went 
to, the images I got were very confusing. But once the Dark 
Forces had cleared the area, I was able to reopen the Vortex to 
pull Tarnor back through..." Reinald paused, and glanced at 
Mulder, who instantly sensed the glance and looked up from 
Scully to stare at both men. Jourdain felt the glance, turned to 
look at Mulder, then back to Reinald. "And them...?" he prodded, 
none-too-gently.
     "Tarnor found them," Reinald responded. "The woman 
has the aura of both a healer and a soldier, mixed brown and 
green. The man is a magician of extraordinary strength. He may 
be stronger than I am." 
     "The prophecy!" Jourdain drew a quick breath, and 
turned to stare at Mulder who glared back. 
     "I think so," Reinald sighed and rubbed his eyes. 
"Unfortunately, opening the Vortex took all of my strength. I fell 
asleep for what must have been several hours. By the time I woke 
up and recovered enough strength to even look for them, they 
were under attack. Luckily, the Mage was able to destroy the 
soul-eaters before they drained him, but not quickly enough to 
stop the others from being hurt. He called for help, and together 
we were able to build the Gate to bring them here."
     Jourdain broke his staring contest with Mulder and 
angled his head back to Reinald. "I don't understand why soul-
eaters would attack an adult mage, they usually go after 
unshielded newborns. And how could he fail to know they were 
coming and shield himself."
     Reinald shook his head. "I don't understand it all myself, 
but I'm afraid Mulder IS like a newborn Mage. He has absolutely 
no shield and no control."
     "What?" Jourdain's skin bleached white. "No shield....no 
control...maybe stronger than YOU! How could that be? How 
could he survive? How could anyone around him survive?"
     "I don't know," Reinald replied, shrugging his shoulders. 
"Their world is so foreign to ours, I don't have enough 
information on it to answer that."
     "By the Gods!" Jourdain swore. "Can you keep him 
contained?"
     "I think so. He's pure, Jourdain. Of that I'm sure. His 
aura is clear and untainted." 
     Jourdain shook his head, while he didn't doubt Reinald's 
assertions, he still was terribly frightened. Trained adult Mages 
were enough to make most people nervous, untrained children 
could frighten whole villages until they were taken in hand by an 
older mage. To have one wandering around with absolutely no 
training but with a full adult's power, especially one potentially 
more gifted than the Royal Magician, was a nightmare. The entire 
court, Drellor in particular, was going to go into seizures when 
they found out. 
     A sudden thought occurred to him, and it brought the 
edge of a grim smile to his lips. There was no reason why the 
court had to find out - at least not yet. No one outside of this 
room knew, and it had better stay that way.
     "Can you teach him?" he asked.
     "Yes, of course I can. It will be difficult, but he 
managed to help build the Gate on incredibly short notice. He's 
smart and extremely determined. He'll learn."
     "He'll have to. But we'll need to keep it quiet. I'll report 
that you're exchanging spells or something with a foreign 
magician who is visiting with his...unh..."
     "Wife." Reinald interrupted. Jourdain looked at him in 
shock. Mages never married, they rarely even formed close 
friendships.
     Reinald smiled. "They ARE foreign, remember. As 
surprising as it seems, I think they may even be life-bonded."
     "What!" Jourdain felt like the room was spinning. He'd 
had one shock to many in too short a period of time. His jaw felt 
like it was permanently hanging down. But he was a battle-
experienced warrior, and he hadn't survived three wars - well, 
border-skirmishes - to fall apart now. Okay, so he was faced with 
a living breathing prophecy come true: a totally untrained adult 
alien mage of extraordinary power, and one with a bond-mate to 
boot. Well, why not? He grimaced and focused sharp blue eyes 
on both Reinald and the gaping Grejor. "Nothing of what you've 
told me leaves this room. They are simply visitors from some far-
off land, with slightly odd customs, come to trade spells with 
you. Once you've got him under some control, we can decide 
how much more to let out. But nothing more for now. Is that 
understood?"
     Grejor just gave a barely perceptible nod. Reinald 
rubbed at his chin for a moment, considering, then agreed. "All 
right. But we have to tell the Prince the truth, and Scully will 
need weapons training. She should be a natural fighter, given her 
aura. Is there someone you can trust to teach her?"
     Jourdain thought for a moment, eyeing the still-
unconscious woman on the floor with doubtful eyes. Then he 
nodded slowly. "Aldara can teach her. She's one of the best 
fighters I've ever seen, and she's about the same size."
     "Good!" Reinald replied. "Mulder and I can start 
tomorrow." Mulder again responded to the sound of his name, 
his eyes darkening with his increasing irritation at not being able 
to understand the conversation, except for his intuitive 
recognition that they were discussing him and Scully. At this 
mention of his name, he stood up and spoke bluntly to Reinald. 
"What's going on?"
     "I was just telling Jourdain," Reinald gestured towards 
the Captain, "what has happened. And we're discussing how to 
handle your presence here."
     "You're the one who asked us to come." Mulder's voice 
was belligerent, his eyes snapping. Reinald saw his aura, drained 
as it was, flare up, and reached out to soothe the angry Mage. 
"Yes I was, and I will explain everything to you. I just thought it 
might be better to explain to you and Scully at once."
     "Try explaining to me now," Mulder insisted, his face 
tightening in pain. "Scully is hardly going to be in any condition 
for explanations for a while." A sudden groan from the woman in 
question broke into the conversation, and Mulder instantly 
dropped to his knees beside her.
     "Scully?" he questioned, reaching out to touch her. 
Reinald watched in amazement, as Mulder's blue aura flew ahead 
of his hand, mixing with the faint green/brown of hers, feeding his 
life energy to her. In response her aura flared and strengthened, 
merging with the blue flame to produce a bright rainbow where 
the met.
     "Mulder..." Scully's eyes slowly opened to see his 
anxious face peering down at her. She smiled softly, happy to see 
him there and well. "What happened?" she asked, trying to sit up, 
but her body was too exhausted to obey, and she slumped back 
down to the floor.
     "Hey, take it easy," Mulder warned, though his 
countenance lightened with his joy at seeing her improve. He 
didn't know what the Healer had done, but it certainly seemed to 
have worked. "You were hurt, remember?"
     "Where are we?" she questioned, staring arund her in 
amazement.
     "I found help," he replied succinctly, not wanting to try 
to explain now. "I'll explain later. Right now you need to rest."
     She nodded, exhausted, leaning against his arms and 
closing her eyes. As she slipped into an easy slumber, Mulder 
swept the hair out of her eyes and looked from Corvay to 
Reinald. 
     "Tell him thank you," he whispered.
                         
                   -----------------

     
     Mulder and Scully sat back in their chairs, sipping 
slowly at the odd-tasting potion Corvay had insisted they drink. 
Scully had been particular loathe to drink anything she didn't 
know, but Reinald had insisted. He'd even taken a glass of it 
himself, and was now sitting on a small stool in front of them, 
drinking from his cup and watching them with some amusement.
     Mulder looked over at Scully, shrugged and chugged 
down the rest of his drink. Actually it didn't taste too badly, 
rather like a very fruity wine, and it caused an immediate 
sensation of warmth to spread out from his throat and stomach. 
When Scully saw that it wasn't bothering Mulder too much, she 
gave in and took a deep swallow. Then she smiled and took 
another. "This is pretty good."
     "It's an excellent restorative," Reinald responded. He 
smiled. "And it has the added benefit of actually tasting good. 
Most of the healer's concoctions are enough to make anyone sick 
just from the taste."
     Mulder laughed, "It looks like there are some constants 
in life, no matter where you are."
     Scully threw him a dirty look, then turned back to 
Reinald. "I have so many questions. How did we get here, and 
where is here? What were those creatures who attacked us? And 
what exactly is Tarnor?"
     Reinald smiled warmly at them both. "Okay, I'll try to 
start with the basics, but I can't promise to have all the answers. 
There's a lot I don't know."
     "Fair enough," Mulder replied. 
     "How you got here? Well, through something we call 
"the vortex," though what it actually is, we don't know. It 
reappears every so often in the same part of the forest at regular 
intervals, and seems to be some kind of gateway between 
different worlds. Every so often, someone will disappear into it, 
or some strange creature will appear out of it. It seems to link 
several worlds together, including yours, mine, and the one our 
present problem comes from. I took a big chance sending Tarnor 
through, but it was his only hope."
     "What problem?" Scully asked.
     "The beasts who attacked you are only one small part of 
the terror that has been invading our world from that other realm. 
We think of it as the Dark Place, since everything that has come 
from it has been pure evil. Creatures have been attacking our 
people for close to two years, and every attempt to shut of the 
vortex has failed. Forcing it open to allow you and Tarnor to 
come back through is the biggest success I've had with it, and I'm 
not exactly sure I could do it again."
     "Wait a minute," Mulder interrupted, leaning forward in 
his chair. "What do you mean, you might not be able to do it 
again? Are you saying you may not be able to send us home?"
     "I..." Reinald gave them an apologetic look, "I'm just 
not sure. But you may be able to do it for yourself. Mulder, 
you've got as much magical ability as I do, maybe more."
     "I have no idea how to do anything, I almost made a 
disaster out of the Gate. How am I supposed to control the 
vortex?"
     "Wait a minute," Scully interrupted. "I don't understand. 
What Gate? And Mulder's no magician. I mean I don't even 
believe in magic, and I know Mulder can't do anything like that."
     
     Reinald shook his head, this was not going very well. He 
though for a moment, then tried again. "There must be some very 
serious differences between our two worlds. Let me tell you a 
little more about this one. Maybe that will help." Mulder and 
Scully gave him identical looks of skeptical disbelief, but they 
both sat back and let him continue.
     "You are presently in the castle of the King of Fairwood 
Domain. Unfortunately, the last King died leaving only his five-
year old son as heir. The Prince is about 8 years old now, so as 
well as serving as Royal  Magician, I am acting Regent until he 
turns 16 and comes legally of age. Besides Fairwood, there are 
two other Kingdoms in this part of the Realm. There are others 
across the waters, but except for some trading by ship, we don't 
communicate with them much. 
     "Under the King, there is a collection of noble houses.  
Representatives of each serve on the council, as well as elected 
representatives of the major guilds and religions. Also, the three 
other races have voting seats on the council - Tarnor's people, the 
trolls, and the elves. The other races usually keep to themselves, 
and have their own leaders and homes usually separate from 
human settlements. All in all, we get along pretty well, we haven't 
had more than occasional border skirmishes in over thirty years. 
That doesn't mean there isn't a lot of political jockeying around 
here, the court is rife with it." Mulder and Scully nodded, so far 
they could follow this fine, and most of it had some familiarity to 
it.
     "Now, magic. Hmmm. There do appear to be major 
differences between our worlds in this respect. I don't quite 
understand it, but you, Mulder, have one of the strongest Mage 
auras I've ever seen. You may even be more powerful than I am, 
and yet you don't seem to know the slightest thing about using it 
or controlling it. Magically, you're like a newborn Mage, but you 
are an adult. How did you manage to grow up without training, 
or even learning to shield?"
     Mulder shook his head. "We don't seem to HAVE 
magic in our world, like you do here. A few people have reported 
what we call 'extrasensory perception,' in that they can sometimes 
hear another's thoughts or sense things occurring at a distance. A 
very few may be able to bend a spoon. But that's all. And I've 
never even demonstrated those abilities. Except maybe for strong 
intuition, I don't have any talent - or at least I didn't until I got 
here."
     "That's amazing!" Reinald said, his eyes twinkling with 
interest. "A world without magic. It's incomprehensible."
     "The idea that 'magic' is real is incomprehensible to us. 
It's just a fantasy writers spin to amuse people. It's not real." 
Scully broke in. "And I'm not sure I understand what you mean 
by 'magic.'"
     "You can think about magic as a kind of energy. It flows 
through all living things, and we think it may be tied to the basis 
of life itself, although that is hotly debated since inanimate objects 
can have magic also. Some people have more of that energy than 
others, some can see it better, and a few can even manipulate it. 
That's what defines a mage, someone who has the talent to bend 
the mage-energy to his will."
     Scully frowned, it did make a certain amount of sense, 
though she was still skeptical. "And Mulder has the talent to 
manipulate this energy stuff?"
     "Yes, exactly," Reinald answered. "Everyone is different 
in their sensitivity to it. I think..." he studied her gravely for a 
moment. "I think you have some slight ability yourself, though its 
obvious from your aura that you are more of a healer than a 
Mage, and much more a warrior than a healer."
     Mulder had been quiet for a while, trying to absorb the 
information, but he couldn't help responding to the last statement. 
"Now I could have told you that," he said with a smile.
     "Shut up, Mulder." Scully said, shooting him a daggered 
look, then turning back to Reinald. 
     "I'm not sure I'm ever going to get all of this, but what 
exactly did you mean by our auras? Some people in our world 
say they can see them, but I've never really understood what they 
are supposed to be."
     "They are fields of energy that surrounds every living 
thing. I think you both can see them if you concentrate on it." 
Scully gave him an unconvinced stare, but Mulder was game to 
try. He peered at both Reinald and Scully, twisting his head side 
to side, squinting. Scully couldn't help letting out a giggle at the 
sight of him. "Mulder!" she protested lightly.
     "Hey, I think I got it!" he exclaimed, eyes brightening. 
"Reinald is all blue, and Scully...you're all green. Well, brown and 
green. But mostly green!" Reinald smiled at him approvingly, 
nodding. Scully looked at them both like they were crazy, the sat 
back in her chair and changed the subject.
     "How can you speak our language if you've never been 
to our 'world?'" 
     Reinald grinned. "Through a new creation of mine - a 
language spell. This is the first chance I've had to try it out. I'm 
delighted with how well it works."
     "Can you make one for us to understand your 
language?" Mulder was fascinated.
     "Hmm, maybe. Mine is keyed to me, but it should be 
possible to duplicate it for you. With some training you ought to 
be able to do it for yourself." Reinald responded thoughtfully.
     "With training being the operative word," Mulder said 
with frustration. Scully couldn't help thinking that it might take 
more than that, but again she changed the subject, this time to 
something that had been bothering her throughout the 
conversation. 
     "Magic aside, what about those creatures who attacked 
us in the woods? You said there were more of them?" she asked.
     Reinald frowned, his eyes darkening. "Yes, there have 
been a flood of them over the last two years. Somehow, they 
seem to have gained some control over the vortex, enough to be 
sending through an increasing number of creatures. The beasts 
you fought with are probably the mildest of them." Both Scully 
and Mulder shuddered at that thought. Reinald nodded grimly. 
"So far they have been mostly randomly ambushing our people. 
Attacking the more isolated settlement, an occasional small 
village, but they're creeping in on us a little more every day. I'm 
afraid we're going to be hit by a full-scale invasion sometime 
soon."
     "When we 'communicated' through the vortex, it seemed 
like you thought Scully and I could help," Mulder questioned. 
"Even if I do have some magical ability, I still don't see how 
much help just the two of us can give."
     "I'm not sure either," Reinald answered. "But you two 
do fit an old prophecy. When I saw the two of you through 
Tarnor, I was shocked. No one had really taken the old story 
seriously, and suddenly there you were."
     "What prophecy?" Scully asked.
     "An ancient one, most of which has been lost or garbled 
over the years. It's become a kind of myth. To summarize, the 
story says that when we are threatened by some great evil,  a 
healer-warrior will lead us in battle while two magicians, one 
from this world and one from another, will unite to win the final 
confrontation, and banish the evil from this world forever. You 
see, Scully, your particular aura, with its combination of healer 
brown and warrior green is unique. It never happens. Those two 
talents are considered opposites. So when I saw it, so close to a 
strong Mage power, I suddenly realized that you two HAD to be 
the fulfillment of the prophecy."
     Scully and Mulder exchanged glances, neither one sure 
how to respond to this. It all seemed utterly unreal. Scully felt 
like she had been on a roller coaster for far too long. Even with 
the aid of the potion and Corvay's healing, she was still ready to 
collapse. Mulder was tired too, and even though his intense 
curiosity was running at full speed, one look at Scully's pale face 
was enough to convince him they'd had enough for tonight.
     "This is a lot for us to absorb," he said. "And we're both 
exhausted. Maybe we should call it a night, and get some sleep." 
Reinald gave him a sheepish look, and immediately apologized.
     "I'm so sorry. I knew better than to keep you up for so 
long after all you've just been through. I'm exhausted myself." He 
stood up and went over by the fireplace, reaching up to yank on a 
cord hanging against the wall. "Lets get you settled into a room, 
so you can get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow we can get your 
training started."
     "Training," Both Mulder and Scully spoke at once.
     "Well, we can hardly have an untrained mage wandering 
around. Mulder, you're leaking mage energy like a broken glass. 
If you don't learn control soon, you could cause a major disaster. 
In a way, your training is more to protect people from you than 
anything else. I've put a makeshift shield on you for now. It will 
hopefully hold until we teach you to do it yourself." Mulder 
grimaced and nodded. After his experiences in the forest, he 
wasn't about to argue about this. The last thing he wanted to do 
would be to accidentally blast some innocent person.
     "Okay, that explains Mulder's training, but what am I 
supposed to be learning?" Scully questioned.
     "Fighting skills, of course. You'll need to know how to 
handle a sword. I don't suppose you've ever done any sword-
fighting before."
     "Sword-fighting, of course not!" she exclaimed, her eyes 
widening with surprise. "Why would I want to?"
     "In this case, it's for your protection. You've got a 
warrior's aura, and the last thing we need is for you to get 
challenged before you know how to defend yourself. And with 
everything that's happening out there, we need every trained 
soldier we can get, prophecy aside. Jourdain has arranged for you 
to train with one of his best officers. Her name is Aldara, and 
she's about your size. I think you'll like her." A knock at the door 
caught Reinald's attention, and he left them to cross the room. 
     As Reinald let a young human servant into the room and 
issued instructions in the musical language of the Realm, Mulder 
and Scully just stared at each other for a moment. Reaching out 
to tenderly sweep a bright red strand of hair off her cheek, 
Mulder softly asked her, "Are you all right?"
     She closed her eyes for a moment, then sighed. "I'm 
okay, Mulder. Just tired, dirty, and feeling a little shell-shocked."
     He sighed wearily. "Me, too."
                          - - - - -

     Speechless and numb from exhaustion, Mulder and 
Scully followed the servant through the labyrinthine corridors and 
staircases of the castle. His arm was around her shoulder, hers 
around his waist as they trudged along stone corridors lit by 
torches which created eerie, flickering shadows.  In spite of her 
fatigue, Scully's attention was drawn to the hangings which were 
displayed on the walls.  At first glance, they were not unlike 
medieval tapestries she had seen in museums.  Some were merely 
decorative while others seemed to illustrate a story; whether a 
fable or a tale from the history of the Realm, Scully wasn't sure.  
The richness of the colors and materials amazed her, but there 
was something else which caught her attention.  The images in 
the wall hangings were three dimensional - almost like a woven 
hologram, if such a thing were possible.  She stopped to examine 
the tapestry in wonder, fingering the fine material, then looked up 
at Mulder to speak, and hesitated.  His heavy eyelids were 
drooping closed and he was swaying on his feet.  Gently she 
nudged him and they once again forced themselves to drag their 
feet to follow the young human.
     After what seemed like miles, the servant finally stopped 
in front of a large wooden door and opened it.  It swung silently 
on its hinges to reveal a large stone-walled room.  Mulder and 
Scully entered and looked around them as the door clicked 
quietly closed behind them.  The chamber was at least forty feet 
in length and twenty five feet wide.  A huge stone hearth 
dominated the far wall to their right, and tall narrow windows 
punctuated the wall directly opposite from where they were 
standing.  Between the windows stood bookcases filled with 
richly bound volumes while fine woven rugs dotted the stone 
floor, and tapestries similar to those in the corridors decorated 
the high stone walls of the room.  A large copper tub stood in the 
far corner.  
     Most of the furniture was wooden - a giant armoire, a 
refectory table and chairs, and numerous smaller tables and other 
items scattered around the room.  Two comfortable looking 
upholstered armchairs were positioned by the hearth.  Steam 
wafted from a kettle set near the fire, and nearby on a low table 
between the armchairs was a tray containing cups, a teapot and a 
small loaf.  Illumination was provided by the fire in the fireplace 
and by torches set into brackets at intervals along the walls.  
There was a door in the near wall to their left.  Swathed in 
diaphanous hangings which were tied back for the moment, an 
enormous, high bed jutted from the same wall.
     "Sorry, Scully, I was sure I had reserved a double."  
Mulder peered down at her anxiously.  She was dealing with so 
much right now.  She didn't want to be here in the first place, yet 
it appeared she was going to be instrumental in helping this 
strange world fight for its existence, at the risk of her own. 
Everything around her, this world, this situation - all of this had 
to be an assault to her belief system, which was so rooted in the 
scientific, the explainable.  He was concerned not only about her 
safety but also about how she was handling this threat to her 
most cherished and fundamental beliefs.  And she probably held 
him at least partially responsible for this entire situation.  The last

thing she needed right now was another complication, forcing an 
issue that she was not yet ready to face.  
     "Uh, look - don't worry about it.  I'll just curl up in one 
of those chairs by the fireplace, no problem.  I don't sleep much, 
anyway,"  he said.
     "Don't be an idiot, Mulder,"  Scully said, not unkindly.  
"We may be here for a very long time - you can't sleep in the 
chair for weeks or months.  Maybe you should have arranged to 
transport your couch through the Vortex."  She smiled up at him.  
"Tonight, I'm too tired to care.  Don't worry, we'll manage."
     He looked down at her and decided to broach the 
subject he had been avoiding since they entered the Realm.  "Are 
you okay with all of this?  I know you were angry with me and I 
probably deserve it, but Scully, I swear, I didn't mean for this to 
happen.  Yes, I wanted to come here.  Hell, the curiosity was 
killing me.  But there's no way I would have tricked or forced 
you into coming against your will.  I can't say I'm not glad you're 
here; I am.  But I'd be happier if I knew you didn't hate my guts 
right now."  His voice and expression were calm, but his eyes 
said it all.  The guilt, that once again he had placed her in 
jeopardy; the fear, that their mutual trust had been shattered; the 
respect and caring he felt for her; all were there for her to see. 
     Scully's expression was grave, her eyes shimmering.  
Between the exhaustion and the events of the day, she was close 
to tears.  "I don't blame you for all this, Mulder.  Well, I did at 
first, but when I really thought about it, I knew you wouldn't do 
this intentionally.  But all this is so hard for me.  I feel like I'm
on 
a bad acid trip, or as if I were in a kind of mental freefall.  I can't

explain any of this."  Her voice broke.  "I feel lost."  She took a 
deep breath, her shoulders sagging as she exhaled.  "God, I'm so 
tired."
     Mulder put out a tentative hand and gently caressed her 
cheek.  Softly he said,  "Go sit by the fire.  I'll make tea - or 
whatever it is."
     Scully flopped into the first chair she came to. "How do 
we know it's not toxic?"
     "Well, I guess we don't.  That potion or whatever that 
Reinald gave us was okay. Anyway, we have to eat and drink 
sometime."  Mulder removed the lid from the teapot and sniffed 
at the contents.  He added water from the kettle, then replaced 
the lid.  "I'll drink it first - if I don't keel over, then you can
have 
some.  Deal?"
     "No.  We'll drink it together.  I'll be damned if you're 
going to die and leave me here alone."
     He flashed her a grin.  "That's the spirit, Scully."  
Mulder poured the fragrant brew into the thick earthenware cups 
and handed one to Scully before lowering himself into the other 
armchair with a sigh of relief.  "Okay, Scully, if you can suspend 
your disbelief and just go with this for a minute - what do you 
think of Reinald and what he had to say?"
     "That's a big 'if,' Mulder.  I don't know, I'm black and 
blue from pinching myself, so I know I'm awake.  Well, barely.  
Do I believe you have the powers he says you do? No.  You've 
got many talents, Mulder, but magic?  I can't suspend my 
disbelief that much.  I'm not happy that Reinald seems unsure 
whether or not he can get us back throught the Vortex."  She 
shook her head. "I'm still not convinced all this isn't a dream,  that 
I'll wake up and all this will be forgotten by lunchtime.  How can 
this be possible, how can this place exist?"
     Mulder stretched his long legs out closer to the fire.  
"I've been thinking about that.  Neumann was very coy, but he 
did say they had been doing experiments involving the space-time 
continuum.  What if those experiments somehow caused 
whatever it is that divides our reality from this one, to rupture?  
Reinald seemed to indicate that the Vortex just appeared one day, 
and comes and goes, independently of any factors from this 
reality.  Wouldn't that correlate well with the intermittant nature 
of the experiments?  No one knows that much about time and 
space.  It certainly wouldn't be the first time we were 
experimenting without an understanding of the powers that we 
were dealing with.  You at least have to admit that it's a 
possibility, Scully."
     "Oh, I'll admit that much.  Did you buy the stuff about 
the prophecy?"
     "Every culture has prophecies, and usually events occur 
which can be interpreted as fulfilling those prophecies.  Although 
this prophecy is so specific...I don't know."  He smiled at her.  
"Believe it or not, Scully, I don't just automatically subscribe to 
every weird belief that comes down the pike.  I've got a doctorate 
in psychology and I've had lots of training in the scientific 
method.  I just choose to believe that science, or what we know 
of science, doesn't go far enough sometimes.  That there is a, I 
don't know, call it a higher science or higher wisdom, that can 
offer explanations that conventional science can't."
     "Do you think that you have magical powers?  Come 
on, Mulder, be honest."  Scully was regarding him with a slight 
smile.
     "Well, I didn't.  But I helped to construct the Gate that 
brought us here.  Reinald gave the instructions, he told me what 
to do and how to do it.  But Scully, some of that - whatever it 
was - came from me, I know it did.  I felt it, I controlled it.  And 
I know I want to learn more about it."
     "You're going through with the training?"
     "Of course, aren't you?  After all, we're here for a while, 
at least until the Vortex reopens, or Reinald can figure out a way 
to open it up enough so both of us can get through.  And just 
think - what if it's all true - the prophecy, the threat to the Realm, 
our being able to save it.  This may be our whole reason for 
existence."  He smiled teasingly at her.  "Open yourself to 
extreme possibilities, Scully."
     "I don't think they've ever been more extreme.  Okay, 
for now I'll go along with it, including the training.  But Mulder, 
keep in mind that this isn't our reality, and it may not be anyone's 
reality.  This may all be an illusion."
     "Fair enough.  As long as you keep in mind that it may 
be a reality - our reality - for quite some time to come, okay?"  
He got to his feet wearily and offered her a hand out of the deep 
cushions of the chair.  They leaned into each other in their 
fatigue, and he put an arm around her shoulders as they walked 
away from the fireplace.  Every several feet, they stopped to 
extinguish the torches along the wall.
     "God, I'm exhausted.  What time is it, anyway?"  Scully 
asked, yawning.
     "Good question.  My watch stopped when we went 
through the Vortex.  I have a feeling some rules don't apply here.  
Certainly time may not be the same."  He peered out of one of 
the tall windows.  "It's dark out, so it must be night.  I'm beat, 
too.  You're sure you're okay with the sleeping arrangements?  
It's a big castle, you could probably have your own room."
     "No!" she said quickly.  She colored a bit, then said,  
"No, I'd really prefer it if we weren't separated right now. It's a 
big bed, Mulder.  There's plenty of room for the both of us."   
She looked at him enigmatically for a few seconds, then once 
again became all business.  "Now, I wonder if the Realm has 
discovered plumbing?"
     Mulder opened the door near the bed.  "In here, 
maybe?"  He took a torch from the chamber and brought it into 
the small room, setting it into a bracket.
     The fixtures were primitive and not at all what they 
were used to, but their purpose was unmistakable and Scully had 
no problem divining their use.  On the other side of the small 
room was a stone counter.  A pitcher of warm scented water 
stood next to a ewer,and a stack of soft, folded cloths sat beside 
them.  Scully stripped down to her slip and washed, noting that 
the scented water took on a whole new fragrance when it came in 
contact with her skin.  She felt a little better afterwards. When 
she was finished, Mulder took his turn while she explored the 
armoire.  Inside, she found a silky flowing garment she could use 
as a nightshirt.  It was a little short, perhaps, but otherwise it fit 
well, and its dark green color complemented her creamy white 
skin and auburn hair wonderfully.
     "Why are the beds so high when so many of the people 
are so small?" wondered Scully aloud, trying to find a graceful 
way to get into bed.  The mattress had to be at least four feet 
from the floor.
     Mulder quietly emerged from the bathroom, and seeing 
Scully, his breath caught in his throat.  There were times, usually 
the least convenient or appropriate ones, that he was made 
forcefully aware that his partner was a very beautiful and 
desirable woman.  He brutally quashed the thoughts that were 
rising, unbidden, in his mind.
     "Problem, Scully?"
     She looked over her left shoulder at him as he walked to 
the side of the bed.  Her heart skipped a beat, then raced to catch 
up.  He was clad only in boxers, his damp hair tousled boyishly, 
and he had acquired his own special aroma from the scented 
wash water.  The light from the torch caught the angles of his 
face, the definition of the muscles on his lean body.  It occurred 
to her that the sleeping arrangements might prove more difficult 
than she first believed.
     "Turn around."   Wordlessly, a little breathlessly, she 
turned to face him, not knowing quite what to expect.  He placed 
his warm hands at her waist, then effortlessly boosted her up on 
to the bed.  Their eyes met for a second, then slid away almost by 
mutual consent, neither of them ready to see what was there.  
She pulled down the bedcover and quickly slid under it and 
snuggled down.  Mulder extinguished the torch nearest the bed, 
leaving the embers of the fireplace as the sole source of light.  He 
crossed to his side of the bed, boosted himself up and joined her 
under the covers.  They turned to face away from each other, he 
on his side of the bed, she on hers, and a wide no man's land in 
the center.
     "G'night, Scully."
     "G'night, Mulder."
     Within minutes, Scully's breathing was deep and regular.  
In spite of his exhaustion, it was quite some time before Mulder 
followed her into sleep.
                         - - - - -

"No!  NOOOO!"

     Together they sat bolt upright in bed, both sweating, 
hearts racing, gasping huge breaths into burning lungs, tear-filled 
eyes wide with terror.  Mulder recovered first, and moved to sit 
at the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, then furtively 
wiped the moisture from his cheeks.  He heard the wind outside, 
howling, blowing leaves against the tall windows.  He glanced 
behind him over his shoulder, noticing Scully for the first time, 
and, uncertain of his voice, gently cleared his throat.
     "Sorry, Scully.  Just one of my nightmares.  I didn't 
mean to wake you.  I'm going to stay up for a while.  You go 
back to sleep."
     Her voice was quavering, uncertain.  "I'm not so sure I 
want to, Mulder.  This is bizarre, but... I was having your 
dream."
     "What?"  He snapped around to stare at her.  She was 
white and shaking.
     "I'm telling you, it was weird.  It was like I WAS you, 
seeing everything from your eyes, thinking your thoughts, feeling 
your emotions.  But at the same time, I knew that I was me."  
She frowned.   "That doesn't sound like it makes any sense, but 
that's how it felt."  She looked up at him, disturbed and 
frightened.  Is this really what he saw and felt every time he had a 
nightmare?  How had he managed to keep his sanity?
     Mulder looked at her intently.  "What exactly did you 
see?"
     Closing her eyes to concentrate better,  she proceeded 
to tell him what she had seen in the nightmare in exhaustive 
detail.  As she spoke,  Mulder's expression wavered repeatedly 
between shock and mortification and discomfort.  He had never 
felt so naked, so exposed, in his life.  When she finally finished 
and opened her eyes, his expression had been tamed into careful 
neutrality.
     "What happened, Mulder?  How could this happen?"
     He reached out and took her hand, and caressed the 
back of it with his thumb.  He  kept his tone light.  "Don't make 
too much of it, Scully.  You've known about my nightmares for a 
long time, and you know what they're usually about.  You've 
listened to the regression tapes, you've read Samantha's X-File.  
You know just about everything there is to know about her 
abduction.  Plus, it's not exactly been a routine kind of day, and 
we're both overtired and overstimulated.  It's just a coincidence, 
that's all.  Don't worry about it.  Go back to sleep."
     Somewhat reassured, she settled back down, and 
exhaustion returned her to sleep quickly.  Mulder carefully slid 
out of bed and padded across the cool stones and warm thick 
rugs to the opposite end of the room.  He added another log to 
the bright embers in the hearth, and using a poker, stirred the fire 
into life again.  Then he sat in one of the armchairs to think.  
     At this point, Scully did not need something else that 
she couldn't find a rational scientific explanation for.  But Mulder 
was unnerved enough for the two of them by her experience.  
She had not only shared every bit of his nightmare -  including 
thoughts and emotions he had never told anyone, not even Dr. 
Verber - but she had remembered it with the precision of HIS 
photographic memory.  What the hell was happening?
                         
                         
                   -----------------



     Mulder's eyes flew open the second he heard the soft 
footsteps, but he remained motionless.  Facing the sunlit 
windows as he was, he couldn't see anything.  He turned over as 
if in sleep to try to see who was in their room, only to encounter 
his slumbering partner, her head now fast against his chest, his 
arm around her back and shoulders.  The footsteps left the room 
and Mulder relaxed, giving in to temptation.  Promising himself it 
would be only for a moment, he buried his face in her silky 
auburn hair, breathing in her scent deeply. Then the door opened, 
the footsteps returned and again he became alert as their intruder 
headed for the other end of the room.
     This was pleasant, thought Scully, wriggling sensuously 
and purring a little.   A lovely way to wake up, in the strong arms 
of a ma- !  Abruptly, she awoke, and was held in place by a grip 
that had suddenly turned to iron.  Carefully, she looked up and 
caught the caution in Mulder's eyes.  Barely moving, barely 
audible, he placed his lips next to her ear and said, "Scully, we 
are not alone."  She almost giggled - he had been saying that for 
years.  Then she stiffened as she too heard other noises from the 
end of the room.  Obviously, their intruder had abandoned efforts 
to not awaken them.  Mulder again caught her eye and 
deliberately, he nodded three times.  On the third nod, they sat up 
in unison and slid out of the high bed, and started moving 
purposefully towards the intruder.
     The elf turned to them and smiled, saying something in 
the spoken song that was the language of the Realm in a 
surprisingly low pitched musical voice.  Realizing that her words 
carried no meaning, she walked over to the refectory table, where 
breakfast has been laid, indicating that they should sit and eat.  
Mulder looked at Scully and shrugged.  They walked over to the 
table and sat.
     There were baskets of fresh warm breads and a wooden 
platter containing unfamiliar but fragrant fruits and something 
that looked like cheese.  There were two earthenware bowls 
containing some thick, creamy looking liquid, and a large teapot 
from which a wonderful aroma was wafting.
     "I know I should probably be more careful about this, 
but frankly Scully, I'm too hungry to care."  Mulder had finished 
making his selections from the bread basket and had turned his 
attention to sampling as many different fruits as possible.  "Any 
idea what the white stuff is?"
     "I thought YOU were going to be MY guinea pig, 
Mulder."  Scully covered the tip of her spoon with the creamy 
substance and cautiously tasted it.  "Ummm.  Kind of like yogurt 
but smoother and sweeter and not so tangy.  My opinion might 
change once I know where this stuff comes from, but for now I'd 
say it was delicious.  How's the fruit?"
     "Good.  Those blue things are pretty sour, but the 
orange ones taste a little like apples.  The bread is wonderful, and 
I'm just working up the courage to try that cheese.  The tea, by 
the way, is incredible - it's like tea and vitamins and Jolt Cola all 
wrapped up into one.  I may run a marathon when I'm through 
with breakfast."
     "Save your energy, Mulder.  From what Reinald said 
last night, you're going to need it for your training.  Come to 
think of it, pass the tea down here, please - I think I'm going to 
need it, too."
     When the edge was off their hunger, they paid less 
attention to the food and more to the third occupant in the room, 
who was now in the process of filling the copper tub with 
steaming buckets of water.  She was obviously feminine, and tiny, 
not more than a meter tall, with gamine features and short curling 
dark hair.  She wore a short sleeved tunic and loose pants in an 
attractive shade of rose.  Although she was slender, the ease with 
which she hoisted the huge buckets of water spoke of strength 
unexpected in such a small package.  She half-chanted, half-sang 
to herself as she worked, oblivious to Scully and Mulder.  
     She left the side of the tub, and moved to the huge bed.  
>From underneath it, she extracted a kind of narrow platform.  
Standing on the platform, she had no difficulty straighting the 
bedclothes, first on one side of the bed, then on the other.  Scully 
and Mulder watched her lightning quick movements, fascinated.  
She was done in no time.  Then she was at their sides, trying with 
very little success to explain something.   Finally, she went to the 
armoire, extracted some items and pushed them into Scully's 
arms.  She made a little bowing or bobbing motion, then lightly 
took Scully's wrist, pulling it gently.  
     Scully shrugged at Mulder, then allowed herself to be 
led to the bathroom, where the servant's gestures made it clear 
what she was to do next.  Scully stood with her hand on the door 
latch and called down to Mulder.  "I guess I'll be getting washed 
and dressed in here, Mulder.  The tub must be yours.  Have fun."
     Suddenly wary, Mulder turned his attention to the 
servant, who performed the strange bobbing motion again, and 
lightly took his wrist and tugged.  Feeling a little foolish, he 
allowed himself to be led across the room by the tiny sprite to the 
side of the copper tub.  She smiled and nodded, then grasped the 
waistband of his boxers and began pulling downward.  Aghast,  
Mulder brushed away her hands, grabbed the waistband and 
pulled up.  "Scully!"  The servant patiently began to explain the 
procedure, which of course was lost on Mulder, and again took 
the waistband in her hands. There was no mistaking the panic in 
his voice this time.  "SCULLY!"
     Scully shot out of the bathroom, pulling her clothes 
around her and clutching a pair of suede boots.  "What's going 
on, Mulder?"
     Blushing, perspiring, he looked at her, his eyes wide.  
"She wants to take my clothes off!  I think she wants to give me a 
bath!"
     After a second's hesitation, Scully started to laugh, and 
kept on laughing until tears ran down her cheeks and she fell to 
her knees, grasping her abdomen. Finally she regained control, 
stopped laughing and wiped her eyes.  She looked up at him, still 
giggling a little and said, "I'm sorry, Mulder, really.  I just 
couldn't help it.   That's the best offer you've had in months, and 
you don't want to take it?  There's no pleasing some people."
     "Scully, you know very well that there's a big difference 
between that and - "
     "Yeah, I know."  Scully stood up, and began tucking her 
loose white shirt into her leather breeches.  "Okay Mulder, it's up 
to you.  It looks like this "assisted bathing" is the accepted thing 
in this culture, and you can either go along with it gracefully or 
not.  She's just trying to do her job.  I might also point out that as 
we're probably going to be here for quite some time, we're going 
to have to adapt to a lot of strange things.  You might as well 
start now.  In any case,  I'm leaving to find this Aldara person."  
She leaned against the table to pull on her boots.
     "Hey, Scully.  Nice outfit."  He nodded approvingly at 
her, his eyes warm.  "Be careful, okay?"
     She returned the warmth in her smile.  "Always, 
Mulder."  A second later, she was gone.
     Mulder turned his attention to his tiny servant.   When in 
Rome....  He released the waistband of his boxers and spread his 
arms wide, abandoning himself to his fate.
                         - - - - - 


     Scully had not gone far when she realized that directions 
would have been helpful.  Although the corridors of the castle 
were considerably more populated now than they had been the 
previous night, the language barrier still presented problems.  
Finally, on her fourth attempt she had succeeded in getting her 
message across, only to have a helpful troll give her detailed 
instructions on how to find Aldara, in a language she could not 
comprehend.  She had resigned herself to spending several hours 
lost in the corridors of the castle when by chance she stumbled, 
literally, over Tarnor.  The little creature turned around to give 
the clumsy oaf that fell over him a piece of his mind when he 
recognized Scully.  He bobbed, then took her wrist and pulled her 
down the hall as fast as her feet could carry her.  When he was 
sure that she would continue to follow, he released her wrist, but 
did not drop the pace, chattering away.  Scully figured he was 
probably giving her hell for being late for Aldara.  
     After countless turns and trips up and down staircases,  
they found themselves in a large courtyard.  Tarnor yelled across 
the courtyard to a figure who waved, and started toward them.  
Then he spoke a few more words to Scully, showed his pointed 
teeth in what she thought was meant to be a smile, and left.  
Happy to see the little thing doing so well after yesterday's 
horrors, she watched him leave, then turned her attention to the 
approaching figure.  This was Aldara, the warrior instructor?  
thought Scully.
     The woman coming toward her was just a few inches 
shorter than Scully, but had the same elfen features that their 
servant had possessed.  Her hair was long, curly and black, and 
her eyes were the brightest green Scully had ever seen.  She 
could not have weighed eighty pounds, dripping wet.  Now I 
know why this place is in so much trouble, thought Scully.  
Aldara advanced, holding her hand out, and Scully grasped it 
warmly.  That was the last thing she did before flying through the 
air to land in a heap about ten feet away from where she had 
started.  
     "What the hell was that for?"  she demanded angrily, 
only to be answered with Aldara's tinkling laughter.  
     "Okay, so we're going to play rough."  Scully got to her 
feet, her mind going back over every martial arts class she had 
ever taken, and dropped to a defensive posture. 
      She and Aldara circled each other several times, 
parrying and feinting, then Aldara sprang for her throat.  With a 
few quick moves, Scully eluded her attack, had Aldara on the 
ground and was straddling her, her knuckles drawn back and 
ready to deliver a potentially fatal blow.  Aldara nodded, smiled, 
and raised her arms in submission.  
     "Funny way you have of saying Hi here," Scully said 
coolly, getting up and offering a hand to her opponent.  They 
locked eyes for a moment, smiled, and then Aldara took Scully's 
hand and hauled herself up off the cobbles of the courtyard.  
They brushed themselves off, and Aldara made a beckoning 
motion.  Together they set off across the busy plaza.
     Everywhere stalls were set up, decorated with brilliantly 
colored flags and banners and signs, and vendors were singing, 
chanting, calling attention to their wares.  This was evidently the 
Realm version of the mall, thought Scully.  All sorts of 
foodstuffs, cloth, nails and tools, casks of this and barrels of that 
were for sale, by more different kinds of beings than Scully could 
have ever imagined.  Fascinated by the scene around her, Scully's 
eyes were everywhere, but she was careful not to lose track of 
Aldara - she would never find her if they were separated in this 
crowd.    
     They soon left the colorful marketplace behind, cut 
through a stable, and finally arrived at an open area adjacent to a 
blacksmith's forge.  Aldara went to a recessed wall protected by 
an overhang.  Scully saw that the wall was in effect a weapons 
rack.  Aldara looked back at Scully, performed some kind of 
calculation, and chose a sword.  Carefully, she affixed leather 
guards to both her sword and Scully's, then handed the agent her 
weapon.
     Taken completely by surprise by the weight of the 
weapon, she nearly dropped it but recovered in time to save 
herself that particular embarrassment.  These things never looked 
like they were this heavy in the movies. Damn, thought Scully, 
this thing has to weigh at least twenty pounds.  Experimentally, 
she held the handle in her right hand and tried to raise the six foot 
long piece of metal and found it next to impossible.  Aldara came 
up behind her, and grasping Scully's hands, placed them properly 
on the hilt.  She then helped Scully to raise the sword and swing 
it in an arc around their heads.  She dropped her hands, ran over 
to pick up her own sword, and motioned for Scully to copy her 
movements.  
     For at least two hours, the instructor and her student 
swung their weapons at targets and practiced the rudiments of 
swordsmanship, stopping only when Scully could scarcely raise 
her arms.  As it was, pure Scully stubbornness had been the only 
thing stopping her from begging for a rest for the last twenty 
minutes or more.  Finally, Aldara indicated that she should sit, 
and went into the forge, while Scully collapsed gratefully on a 
hay bale.  
     A few minutes later, Aldara emerged with two mugs 
brimming with the same kind of tea they had had for breakfast.  
Scully gulped it greedily, and was rewarded by a warm, potent 
feeling starting in her stomach and spreading to her limbs.  She 
almost groaned, it felt so good.  Aldara chuckled softly and 
refilled Scullly's mug from her own.
     When they had finished, Aldara gestured to Scully and 
the two women walked back toward the stables.  Aldara 
exchanged a few words with the farrier and within a few minutes, 
two saddled horses were led up to them.  One of the stableboys 
assisted Aldara to mount, then she waited until Scully was also 
on her horse.  But these horses were certainly a breed she had 
never seen. They were enormous, easily 22 hands high, with a 
long, ground-eating stride.   
     The two women walked their horses out into the 
sunshine, heading for an open field about a hundred yards away. 
Scully had a feeling she was about to regret all those times in 
summer camp that she had opted for sailing at the expense of 
horseback riding.  Her equestrian skills were sorely tested by a 
gentle canter around a fenced-in ring - and somehow Scully felt 
that somewhat more than that would be expected of her.  She had 
no sooner had the thought than Aldara said something to her, and 
kicked her horse into a gallop.  Scully's mount did not wait for 
any direction, but took off after its companion, tumbling its rider 
off in the process.  
     "Ooooofff!  Shit!"  Scully painfully picked herself up off 
the ground, wiggling an arm here, an ankle there to check herself 
for any debilitating injuries that would prevent her from having to 
get back on that damned beast.  Unfortunately, she found none, 
and her mood was not improved by the return of Aldara and the 
horses.  Looking at the animal with a jaundiced expression, she 
led it over to a fence, which she climbed and then hopped onto 
the horse's back from there.  This time, Aldara took it slower, 
and Scully felt her confidence starting to return as she proceeded 
without incident from walk to trot to canter.
     When Aldara felt she could handle it, after some two 
hours of basic horseback riding drills, the lessons began in 
earnest.  Aldara would demonstrate some totally hair raising 
stunt, like galloping the length of the field without holding the 
reins, and Scully was expected to follow suit.  "Easy for her, she's 
probably been riding since before she could walk,"  grumbled 
Scully.  But she gamely, and at great cost to her physical 
wellbeing and her pride, attempted everything Aldara was 
showing her.  
     They took a break in the midafternoon.  From the 
saddlebags came flasks of the now familiar tea and a couple small 
loaves of a dark, sweet bread.  After they had eaten, the two 
women looked at each other, smiled and shrugged.  It was 
frustrating to have so many questions that went unasked.   Scully 
resolved to talk to Reinald tonight to see what could be done to 
break down the language barrier.  She was sure she'd pick up the 
language sooner or later, but in the meantime the lack of 
communication couldn't be doing her training program any good, 
and it could even be dangerous.  Finally the two women lay back 
and rested for a while, Aldara napping, and Scully just glad to be 
off the damned horse.  
     The day was gorgeous - sunny, mild, cool breeze, puffy 
pink and white clouds in the bright blue sky.  She gave a passing 
thought to Mulder, wondering how he was faring in his magic 
lessons, and more than a little resentful that compared to her, he 
had it so easy.
                         - - - - -

     "Yeeeeooooow!"  Mulder was hanging upside down in 
midair, suspended about five feet above the stone floor. Reinald 
cast a look skyward that cursed his fate, then wiggled a finger 
and Mulder came crashing to the floor.
     "That is a very good example of what happens when 
you don't first center your power and properly tune your shield.  
And if you try to levitate anything without grounding yourself, 
you will be what's levitated.  This little exercise is harmless, but if

you don't center and ground your power or adjust your shield, it 
could be fatal with many of the other spells."
     "Not precisely harmless, "  grunted Mulder, rubbing his 
shoulder.
     "I've never had to teach this before - these are all things 
that a Mage child knows before it can crawl.  I can't believe you 
haven't killed yourself long before this.  So much power in such 
untrained hands - it's unthinkable.  All right - again."
     Mulder picked himself off the stone floor for what 
seemed the fiftieth time that day and sighed.  Concentrating, he 
closed his eyes and focused his inner energy on a small bottle 
which sat on a table across the room.  Pointedly, he mentally 
drew down his shield, then willed the bottle to come to him, 
slowly this time, slowly, slowly; and then to hang in midair two 
feet from him, where he could just open his eyes and  -
     Crash!
     "It appears, Mulder, that I will run out of bottles before 
you have grasped the concepts of this lesson."
     In the safety of the corner, Grejor snorted, but quickly 
lost his amusement when the icy stares of not one but two Mages 
fell upon him.
     Mulder looked at Reinald and said hopefully,  "They're 
getting closer to me before they fall - don't I get points for that?"
     Reinald looked at him sourly.  "No."
     Mulder rubbed his eyes and sighed.  "The concentrating 
isn't the problem, it's when I open my eyes.  I just get so excited 
when I see that I actually levitated something, I lose my train of 
thought."
     "I would suggest that you curb your exuberance.  We 
don't have the time for it.  You have so much to learn, so much 
more than I thought would be necessary.   Now - again."
     Again, determined, Mulder followed the steps.  Center. 
Ground. Shield. Concentrate.  He opened his eyes and plucked 
the bottle out of the air.  "Easy when you know how," he 
murmured, looking in wonder at the little bottle.
     Reinald permitted himself a small smile.  "It appears that 
we make progress, Mulder.  Perhaps we shall manage to teach 
you what you need to know before you accidentally kill us all.  
Now - again."
     Mulder repeated the exercise flawlessly more than 
twenty times, then Reinald began adding different permutations.  
Each change brought with it a few smashed bottles, but 
eventually Mulder could make the bottle spin around the room, 
move it from one point to another, start and stop it repeatedly 
along its path, and move it between himself and Reinald at his 
will.
     Reinald nodded approvingly and glided over to the 
table.  "We will rest for a short while, Mulder.  Have some tea."
     As Mulder turned, he became aware of something 
hurtling towards his head.  Instantly, he dropped to the floor, and 
cautiously looked up to see if he could identify the missile.  A cup 
sailed overhead and smashed into the wall at the other end of the 
room, spattering its contents on a rather nice tapestry and onto 
the floor.  Reinald looked down at him and shook his head.  "You 
have the powers, now use them. It must become second nature, 
Mulder, something that you don't think about, something 
effortless or there is no point.  Get up - it seems we have more 
work to do."
     It was over an hour later when Reinald finally stopped 
the drills and allowed Mulder a break.  He collapsed on a 
low stool and massaged his throbbing temples.  Any progress he 
had made was at the expense of a terrific headache.  Wordlessly 
he accepted the mug of fragrant tea and gulped half of it down.  
Immediately, his head started to feel better, and he was as 
refreshed as if he had taken a good long nap.  "When I go back, 
this stuff goes with me,"  he declared, only half kidding.
     Reinald's eyes sparkled, but he did not respond to 
Mulder's comment.  "You've made some progress today.  Only 
practice will reinforce these lessons to the point that using your 
powers becomes as natural as breathing.  But I must caution you 
- for now, do not attempt any magic unless I am with you.  You 
are at an extremely dangerous stage right now.  You know that 
you possess power, but you don't know enough about using it.  
I'm quite serious when I tell you that if you made certain errors 
right now, you could kill yourself or those around you.  I'm not 
sure I would have risked bringing you through the Vortex if I had 
known you were untrained."
     "You didn't bring me through the Vortex, it was an 
accident."   Suddenly suspicious, Mulder looked at Reinald 
directly and saw a slight change in his aura, a slight wavering.  
"Wasn't it?" he demanded.  Could his and Scully's trip through 
the Vortex have been manipulated?  Outside, the skies abruptly 
clouded over.
     For his part, Reinald could see the increase in the 
intensity of Mulder's aura, and was alarmed.  "Strong emotion 
must also be avoided right now.  It could bring on" -  a huge 
crash of thunder obscured what the magician said.
     "Then suppose you tell me the truth,"  snapped Mulder.
     Reinald looked at the expression on Mulder's face.  "All 
right - but first you must ground your energy.  Do it now, 
quickly!"  Mulder stared at Reinald as lightning flashed through 
the sky.  He took a deep breath, focused his mind on empty 
space, and pressed his energy into the stone floor, then exhaled.  
Sun once again streamed through the tall windows of Reinald's 
chamber.
     Puzzled, Mulder asked, "Did I do that?"
     "I told you your powers were dangerous and not to be 
taken lightly,"  Reinald spat out.  "Yes, you did that.  
Ungrounded strong emotion of any kind can have an effect on the 
weather.  Now do you see why it is so critical for you to learn 
controls?"
     Mulder shook his head as if to clear it.  "Well, I'm still 
waiting - how accidental was our trip through the Vortex?"
     Reinald nodded.  "Sit."  When Mulder had complied, he 
continued.  "I didn't pull you through the Vortex, if that's what 
you want to know.  I was aware that our communication had a 
tendency to weaken you.  The Vortex opened a bit more quickly 
than I expected it to, too quickly for you to get out of the way.  
Again, that was unintentional.  I admit, I think I could have 
thrown you clear of it. I chose not to, I chose to leave it to the 
gods.  Our need is so great and finding you was such a stroke of 
incredible good fortune, and I could not bring myself to throw 
that away.  But I didn't bring you here.  I just didn't do what I 
could to stop you.  More tea?"
     Mulder held out his mug and thought over what Reinald 
had said.   He felt the Mage was being honest with him.  He 
could accept his reasoning; if the positions were reversed, he'd be 
at least tempted to do the same.  But this was something he 
probably wouldn't share with Scully, at least not right away.
     Reinald looked at Mulder with some amusement .  "I 
sense your wife is not as accepting of your situation as you are."
     Mulder nearly choked on his tea.  "Wife?  Scully's not 
my wife.  In our reality, we're partners, we work together."
     Reinald looked confused.  "But the life-bond - "
     Now it was Mulder's turn to look confused.  "What's a 
life-bond?"
     Reinald got up and paced the room as he spoke.  "A 
life-bond is the closest form of relationship, the highest sort of 
commitment.  It is quite rare in our world, even most married 
people don't have a life-bond.  Those who are life-bonded are, 
almost inevitably, married to each other.  This is very difficult to 
explain, because it has, for us, great cultural and spiritual 
significance that no language spell can adequately translate."  
Reinald stopped his pacing to concentrate on the best way to 
describe the life-bond.  "It is as if the man's and the woman's aura 
fit together like a lock and key - a perfect match.  Not only do 
the auras fit together, but they can mix with each other, to 
achieve true Oneness.  And the two - the man and the woman - 
together they are more than two, in their powers, in the depth of 
their feelings, in their capabilities.  But alone, each is slightly
less 
than a whole person - as if the other is an integral part of the self. 

Life-bonds develop over time, but as I said, most people never 
achieve a life bond.  It is thought that there are two essential 
elements.  First, an aural "predisposition" and secondly a physical 
proximity must both be present for the life-bond to develop.  
Most beings do not have the predisposition.  Then, only a tiny 
minority of those who have the predisposition ever meet, and 
recognize the other that makes them whole.  So it is a very rare 
thing.  And in a Mage - unknown."   Reinald observed Mulder 
closely.
     Mulder shook his head.  "Scully and I are partners, 
we're friends, but that's all.  Besides, if I'm supposed to have all 
these powers, how can I also have a life-bond?  And why can't  
magicians have life-bonds?"
     Reinald smiled.  "In our world, magicians don't form 
close relationships, usually not even
friendships.  It's thought to be too dangerous.  And no Mage has 
ever been born with the predisposition, in any case.  I can't 
explain why you do have a life-bond.  I had assumed it was 
something common in your world, and permitted to your 
magicians.  Apparently I was wrong.  But make no mistake - you 
are much more than partners, much more than friends."  Reinald 
smiled to himself - these beings were so strange, so unaware.  
"The longer you are in each other's company, the clearer that is 
going to be to you.  But in the meantime, if I have inadvertently 
created an awkward situation, I will have an additional chamber 
prepared for your use."  He reached for the wall cord to summon 
a servant.
     "No. No, that won't be necessary.  At least not right 
now,"  Mulder murmured, distracted.  He felt like someone had 
kicked his legs out from under him.  In a way, Reinald's 
information explained so much.  Their incredible effectiveness 
whenever they worked as a team.  The feelings that he had for 
Scully that he tried to deny even to himself.  The way Scully 
looked at him sometimes - yes, Scully would feel the same way!  
His heart leapt with that knowledge. 
     But the life-bond was frightening, too.  It meant that 
there were things he could no longer deny to himself.  Each 
person was not a whole individual - the need for the other was so 
fundamental, so basic, that it was built right into the life-bond. 
And that thought terrified Mulder.  It explained his feelings when 
he thought Scully was dying after her return from her abduction - 
his absolute certainty that he could not exist without her.  If 
anything,  this new knowledge of the life-bond intensified his fear 
of ever losing her.  If what Reinald said about the life-bond was 
true, losing her would be losing himself.  He had nearly been 
there once and it had come close to destroying him.  If a life-
bond meant the potential for that kind of devastation, Mulder 
wanted no part of it.  There had already been more than enough 
loss in his life.
     Reinald's eyes narrowed as he watched Mulder, feeling 
the unshielded emotions that were almost overwhelming the 
young man.  Just to be safe, he cast a brief spell to avoid weather 
disturbances for the next few hours until Mulder had had a 
chance to come to terms with this.
     "I think you have done enough for today.  You have 
much to think about.  I would be pleased if you and Scully could 
join me for dinner tonight.  There will be someone here I want 
you to meet.  We can decide on your lessons for tomorrow then.  
Get some rest.  And remember - no magic, no strong emotion."
     Absently, Mulder accepted Reinald's invitation.  The 
Mage pulled the braided cord and within seconds a servant 
appeared to show Mulder back to their chamber.   For the rest of 
the afternoon, he stared into the fire in his hearth, thinking.
                         
                   -----------------


     Scully and Aldara faced each other, warily circling, each 
armed with two knives.  As the swords had been earlier in the 
day, the knives were sheathed.  For Scully, her drills and 
exercises with Aldara had now become a matter of pride.  She 
had felt all day she was at a disadvantage, coping with learning 
totally new skills.  With close hand to hand fighting and martial 
arts, she was on surer ground.  For some reason, it was becoming 
increasingly important to her to have Aldara's respect.  She 
certainly respected Aldara - the woman was incredible.   She was 
lightning quick, totally fearless and amazingly accomplished at 
everything Scully had seen so far.  She really regretted not being 
able to talk to her.  Several times today both women had 
automatically started to speak in their respective languages, then 
grimaced in frustration and stopped.   Scully hoped Reinald 
would be able to do something about this, and more than once 
wished that Star Trek's Universal Translators were a reality.
     As they circled each other, the sky became dark without 
warning, and a crash of thunder reverberated through the 
forested hills.   Aldara jumped and looked fearful as lightning 
split the sky.  Scully was not normally afraid of thunderstorms, 
but she was in a different world, and the weather certainly 
appeared to be making Aldara uneasy.  Just when she was 
wondering whether she should take a cue from Aldara and look 
for cover, the sky cleared and the sun shone once again.
     Suddenly, Scully had a sense of being elsewhere, then 
recognized Reinald's chamber and heard his voice.  She was too 
startled at first to pay much attention to what he was saying, but 
finally began to listen. He was saying something about how he 
might have been able to prevent them from falling throught the 
Vortex, but chose not to.   She then felt a thought that it might be 
better not to offer this particular piece of information to Scully.  
The vision ended abruptly, and she shook her head to clear it.  
What was going on?
     Meanwhile, Aldara had resumed her aggressor's crouch, 
and Scully quickly did the same.  In this exercise, the agent gave 
as good as she got, and she noticed some rather surprised 
approval on Aldara's face several times.  Both women were 
grimy, bruised and perspiring by the time Aldara indicated that 
class was out for the day.  Scully walked with her to the castle 
and followed her through the corridors, to finish up at a place 
which seemed familiar.  Grejor answered Aldara's tentative knock 
and reluctantly fetched his master.  Reinald spoke to Aldara for 
several minutes.  By the number of times her name came up, 
Scully knew that she was the main topic of conversation.   
Reinald finally nodded a dismissal to Aldara, who performed a 
kind of salute to Scully and then disappeared down the hall.
     Reinald considered Scully's appearance.  "It looks like 
you worked hard today.  I have invited you and Mulder to dinner 
here in my chambers.  You will want to freshen up before that."   
He summoned Grejor to find Scully's servant.  When she arrived 
scant moments later, Reinald issued instructions to her. then he 
turned to Scully.  "Lita will show you back to your chamber and 
draw your bath.  She will also call for you and Mulder at the 
appropriate time and show you back here for dinner.  Until then."  
He bowed slightly and Grejor opened the door, and Scully had no 
choice but to leave, somewhat frustrated.   She had been hoping 
for an opportunity to ask some questions, starting with what she 
was supposed to wear tonight.  Hopefully, someone had stocked 
the armoire with a wardrobe in her size, because she didn't think 
either her present outfit or her green nightshirt would be 
appropriate.  The way back from Reinald's chamber was starting 
to look somewhat familiar, and Scully tried to keep track of the 
lefts and rights.
     The journey to their chamber did not seem to take as 
long as it had the previous night.  As soon as they got inside, Lita 
started transferring hot water from the cauldron on the fire into 
the big copper tub.  Scully gingerly lowered herself into the 
empty chair next to Mulder's by the hearth.  "And how was your 
day?"  she asked, noting his smudged tunic and pants.
     "Oh, you know.  Same old, same old,"  he smiled.  "You 
okay?  You look like you've been through the wars."
     "I have, literally,"  she laughed, and gave him a brief 
summary of her day.  "I hurt in places I didn't know I had. Aldara 
is amazing.  I made the mistake of judging her on her size when I 
first met her.  I'll never do that again.  Anyway, if we stay here 
long enough, I'll either be in fantastic shape or I'll be dead," she 
joked.
     The dark shadow that crossed Mulder's face vanished as 
quickly as it had appeared, but not so quickly that Scully didn't 
catch it.  "What's up, Mulder?"  she asked softly.
     When he looked over at her, his innocent puppy dog 
expression was in place.  "Nothing."
     "Cut the crap, Mulder."
     He shrugged.  "I don't know.  Flashbacks, I guess. 
Forget it."  His expression lightened as he changed the subject.  
"Aren't you going to ask me what I learned in school today?"
     She decided not to press the issue, and sighed.  "Okay, 
I'll bite - what did you learn in school today?"
     Mulder launched into a hilarious account of the day's 
events, but omitted his conversation with Reinald about the 
Vortex and the life-bond.  Sooner or later he would have to talk 
to Scully about the life-bond, but not yet.  And she definitely 
needed more time to become accustomed to the present situation 
before discussing Reinald's part in their passing through the 
Vortex.  He was all the more startled, then, when Scully said, "So 
I understand our trip here wasn't entirely accidental?"
     "What?  Who told you that?"  Mulder said suspiciously.
     "Nobody.  Mulder, it happened again.  For a few 
seconds, I was you.  I was there when you and Reinald were 
discussing how we got here, and Reinald said that he could have 
prevented our falling through the Vortex, but didn't."
     "Might have been able to prevent it,"  he corrected.  
     "Okay, but the fact remains that he could have done 
something and he didn't.  I don't like the idea of someone playing 
God with my life.  And that includes you, Mulder.  Where do you 
get off deciding what information should be passed on to me and 
what shouldn't?  I'm a big girl, you know.  I can take it."
     Mulder privately acknowledged that she might have a 
point, which made him all the more obstinant.  "What, and you 
have no secrets from me, Scully?  I was just trying to do you a 
favor.  You seemed so overwhelmed last night, and knowing this 
particular piece of information would serve no purpose other 
than to get you upset.  I would have told you eventually.  What 
else did you hear or see?"  Mulder was really alarmed now.  He 
wasn't ready to deal with all the ramifications of the life-bond and 
he was certain that she wasn't either, regardless of her insistence 
in knowing everything.   He wanted to give her more time to 
accept everything else that was happening before getting into the 
deeply personal issue of the life-bond, if it even existed.  But if 
she had already "seen" it - 
     She looked at him suspiciously.  "That's all.  There may 
have been more before that, but I really wasn't paying attention 
because I was so surprised.  Well, that and the weather.  Did you 
hear that freak thunderstorm that came out of nowhere?"
     "Uh - I did that."
     "What?"  Scully's eyes flew open and a look of disbelief 
appeared on her face.
     Relieved to change the subject, Mulder said, "Yeah, 
apparently any strong emotions that I have that I forget to 
ground tend to cause sudden shifts in the weather.  I had gotten 
upset when I thought that Reinald might have intentionally drawn 
us here.  He didn't - I guess that's the part of the conversation 
you heard - but for a few seconds I thought he did and I got mad, 
and that's when the thunderstorm happened."
     "I'll have to remember not to piss you off.  What do you 
think is causing these visions?  This is the second time, Mulder."
     "Third, actually.  Yesterday, after the soul-eaters 
attacked us and you had been bitten - I felt it, Scully, I was you 
for a few seconds.  I don't know.  Maybe it's normal in this place 
and happens to everyone.  Or maybe it just happens to beings 
from our world who travel through the Vortex.  Or maybe this is 
ESP that was latent in our world, but something about this place 
brings it out.  We might want to keep this to ourselves just for 
now.  Oh, Scully, I think our friend is trying to get your 
attention."  Mulder grinned wickedly.
     "Her name is Lita.  Evidently, my bath time is in the 
evening.  Okay, Mulder, take a hike.  Do we have any clothes, by 
the way?"
     "Yeah, the armoire is full of stuff for the both of us for 
every occasion.  Reinald said that we'd be meeting someone 
special tonight.  Unfortunately, I don't think there's a Mr. 
Blackwell around to tell us what to wear."
     "Maybe Lita will set things out.  Anyway - vamoose, 
Mulder.  Give me about 25 minutes."
     Actually, he gave her closer to thirty five, having 
become lost in the hallways.  By the time he found his way back, 
Scully was just about finished dressing.
     "Scully - you're beautiful!"
     She was wearing a form fitting, long sleeved leaf green 
tunic made of a heavy satin fabric, shot through with silver 
threads, and caught at the waist by a delicate but ornate silver 
belt.  Simple sandals were on her feet.  Her hair was up, with 
damp tendrils curling around her face.  The torches, now lit for 
the approaching darkness, highlighted the translucence of her 
skin.
     "Thanks,"  she said, almost shyly. "You'd better get 
ready."
     He scooped up the clothes lying on the bed and went 
into the bathroom.  He emerged less than ten minutes later.
     "Well, Mulder, I'd say you're starting to get into the 
spirit of the place," observed Scully, but the frank admiration in 
her gaze belied the coolness of her words.  He always looked 
good, but tonight, in these clothes which so complemented his 
tall, lean form, his appearance was enough to make her heart 
race.
     His outfit was a more formal version of what Scully had 
worn earlier in the day.  His loose white shirt was of the finest 
linen, with a high tight collar and intricate embroidery down the 
full sleeves.  The shirt was worn outside and gathered at the 
waist by a heavy leather belt.  Tight suede breeches and high 
leather boots completed the outfit.
     Lita fussed over him a bit, making tiny adjustments here 
and there, then she nodded and motioned for them to follow her.  
This time, both Mulder and Scully thought they might have 
actually been able to find Reinald's quarters unaided.  Grejor 
answered their knock and dismissed Lita, then stood back to 
allow them to enter.
     Reinald glided forward to greet them.  It was obvious 
that he was making every effort to be a charming host.  "Tonight, 
the Prince has joined us for dinner.  I was anxious for you to get 
to know him.  Oh, and the other individual is his uncle, Drellor,"  
he said dismissively.  "Scully, please have some wine.  I am afraid 
I must offer you tea, Mulder.  Magicians should avoid intoxicants 
of any kind - too dangerous."
     "That's fine,"   Mulder said.  "But Reinald, how are we 
going to communicate with the Prince?  No one but you speaks 
our language."
     "I've extended the language spell to cover this room for 
tonight.  There should be no problem."
     Scully took a glass of wine from a tray that Grejor was 
passing around and turned to Reinald.  "You're going to have to 
do better than that, Reinald.  I have to be able to communicate 
with Aldara.  It's very inconvenient not to be able to even ask 
simple directions.  It's interfering with my lessons.   We need to 
be able to speak your language.  Mulder and I are perfectly 
willing to learn it the conventional way, but that will take a lot of 
time, time that we may not have.  We're here in your Realm, 
we're willing to help fight for it.  But we need to know what's 
going on, we need to be able to communicate.  What can you 
do?"  Her eyes looked directly into his.
     He looked at her equally directly.  "To be truthful, I had 
hoped to limit your access somewhat."  In response to Scully's 
quick frown, he raised his hands in a placating manner.  "There 
are many things about your appearance here which some of our 
people would find confusing.  They are simple, and know nothing 
of the existence of your world.  They may become easily 
frightened."
     Mulder looked at him, caught the slight wavering of the 
Mage's aura.  "And there's something else, isn't there?  What is it, 
the Prophecy?"
     Reinald sighed and shrugged.  "I'm not used to dealing 
with someone I can't shield from.  All right, yes.  Your 
appearance and descriptions do seem to be in conformance with 
the Prophecy.  That is something that I would rather we keep to 
ourselves for now. Not only would it scare the people and raise 
lots of questions we don't want to answer right now, but we 
would be tipping our hand to our enemies.  In our land, it is 
difficult to keep some secrets.  Between the constant intrigue of 
the Court, and the fact that many of our people are sensitive to 
auras, keeping your secret will be difficult enough.  If you can 
fully communicate, you might say something to alarm someone, 
let something slip."  He shook his head.  "No,  it's too 
dangerous."
     "That may be,"  said Mulder quietly.  "However, it is the 
price of our cooperation.  We're prepared to lay it on the line for 
you..."  Reinald's face clouded as the language spell faltered over 
the use of idiom.  Mulder rephrased, "We're prepared to help 
you, the least you can do is trust us to communicate.  It may even 
make the difference between life and death.  Our work in our 
reality requires discretion and judgement; we will use it here as 
well."
     Reinald looked from Mulder to Scully and back again.  
Faced with the firm set of their jaws, the direct stare, the folded 
arms, he realized that he would not have his way, not with these 
people.  Especially if they did fulfill the Prophecy.  He exhaled 
forcefully, then said,  "Very well.  But I expect you to use your 
discretion and judgement.  There are many here at the castle who 
cannot be trusted - the Prince's uncle amongst them.  And there 
are few I trust completely.  I will cast the spell tonight after 
everyone has gone.  In the morning, you will speak, read and 
write our language."
     "Thank you," said Mulder.  "Now, is there any 
particular protocol to be observed with the Prince?"
     "As outsiders, you would not be expected to know most 
of the idiosyncrasies of our culture.  This is fortunate, because we 
have an exceptionally involved etiquette, determined by class, and 
in some cases, type of being.  You could never learn it well 
enough to pass for a native.  That's why we have said that you 
are travellers to our land, so that people won't be surprised by 
what you don't know.  As far as what you need to know for 
tonight - stand when he stands, sit when he sits.  You may 
address him either as Your Highness or simply as Andalor.  I 
think you may be pleasantly surprised.  He will not be what you 
expect.  Are you ready?"
     Mulder and Scully exchanged glances and followed 
Reinald across the room to where the table had been set.  
Because of her nephews and nieces, Scully was as accustomed to 
children as any non-parent could be.  Mulder, if asked, would 
give the traditional bachelor's answer and say he was 
uncomfortable with children.  However,  Scully had seen him 
with kids on several of their cases, and actually he had a rapport 
with them that astonished her, an ability to get onto their level 
and have them open up to him that she envied.
     Reinald led them over to the hearth.  "Andalor, these are 
the travellers I was telling you about.  Come and meet them."
     From behind the high back of an intricately carved chair 
peeked the Prince.  He scrambled off the chair and walked over 
to join Reinald.  The affection between the two was clear.  
Reinald stroked the child's head and Andalor looked adoringly up 
at the Mage.
     "Mulder and Scully, this is Prince Andalor."  The child 
observed them the way children can, with a penetrating gaze that 
can make the most confident adult uncomfortable.  Two 
travellers, one with the mage's blue aura, and one with Healer and 
Warrior colors.  The Prince looked up at Reinald with the poise 
and restraint of a much older and more sophisticated person.  
Young as he was, the meaning of these travellers, of their auras, 
was not lost on him.
     "Your Highness, thank you for the hospitality of the 
Realm," said Scully.  "It is a pleasure to meet you."  The child 
was beautiful, she thought.  Smaller than she had expected for an 
eight year old, he had straight thick blond hair which framed his 
oval face.  His eyes were captivating - large, and of a startling 
violet shade, and hinting at a wisdom far in advance of his years..
     Reinald looked at the child, then nodded, and finally 
gave him a gentle nudge.  Andalor looked at them, stood up very 
straight, and rattled off a little speech he had clearly been 
instructed to memorize for the occasion.  "Welcome to the 
Realm.  Its people are your friends, its fruits are yours to share.  
Come in peace, stay in peace, depart in peace."   In typical 
childish fashion with such memorized pieces,  Andalor rushed 
throught the words on one breath and with as little inflection as 
possible.
     Mulder smiled.  "I'll bet it was hard learning that."
     The child looked up with a slightly mischievous 
expression.  "Not really.  I can remember everything.  Reinald 
says it's a great gift."
     Mulder squatted down to be closer to the child's height.  
"Want to know a secret?  I can remember everything too.  
Reinald's right, it is a great gift."
     "Really?  You really can?"  the boy squealed.  "I thought 
I was the only one.  Are you sure?  Let me test you!"
     "Andalor, do not be rude," chided Reinald.  The  child 
calmed down immediately at the words of the Regent, but looked 
very disappointed.
     "Not at all, I don't mind.  What kind of a test, Andalor?"  
Mulder was rewarded by seeing the child light up and look up at 
Reinald, who sighed and nodded.
     "Good!" exulted the Prince, who took Mulder by the 
hand to lead him over to a tall bookcase teeming with volumes.
     "I can see why you're so proud of him," Scully said to 
Reinald.  The two were observing the antics of Mulder and 
Andalor, who were on the floor, heads together, pouring over 
some books and chattering excitedly.
     "As am I, as am I," huffed a pudgy little man hustling up 
to join them.  He shot the Mage a dark look.  "I'm sure it was 
merely an oversight that Reinald failed to introduce me.  I am 
Drellor, brother to the late King and uncle to Andalor.  Yes, I 
think I've done a fine job with the boy, molding him for the great 
responsibilities he will have to shoulder.  How wonderful it is to 
have such a lovely guest, oh my, yes."   He caught Scully's hand 
and bent to kiss it.  She snatched it back as quickly as she could 
without appearing rude.
     The man's a reptile, thought Scully.  He should be 
hanging around singles bars, asking women their astrological 
signs.  The bad blood between Reinald and Drellor was quite 
obvious.  Table talk could get lively, she thought, almost looking 
forward to it.
     Responding to a subtle signal from Grejor, Reinald 
called everyone to the table.  Both Mulder and Scully realized 
they were famished, having had nothing substantial since 
breakfast.  The meal was simple but delicious - a kind of stew, 
spicy and aromatic, served with crusty hot bread.  Mulder and the 
Prince sat side by side across from Scully and were deep in 
conversation throughout the meal.  Scully's appetite was 
dampened somewhat by being seated next to Drellor, but Reinald 
deftly put him in his place several times during the meal, which 
helped.  At least when he was sputtering about being "in too high 
a position to have to listen to Reinald's insults," his fat little
hands 
weren't rubbing against her knee.  She comforted herself with 
daydreams of what she'd be able to do to the little toad after a 
few more lessons from Aldara.
     After fruit and cheese were served, the meal came to an 
end.  The Prince was yawning openly, Drellor was sulking, and 
both Mulder and Scully wanted nothing more than to return to 
their chamber as the events of the day started to catch up with 
them.  They said their thanks and goodbyes and, refusing the 
offer of someone to show them the way, headed back to their 
room.
     Mulder took Scully's arm and tucked it under his, 
sandwiching her hand between his own. They strolled the hallway 
slowly, taking their time, paying more attention to the decoration 
and design of the castle.
     "You and the Prince seemed to hit it off," observed 
Scully.
     "Yeah, surprisingly, he's a good kid.  I've always 
thought that royal kids would behave like the offspring of Satan 
and have an attitude to boot, but he's really a very nice little boy.  
Very intelligent, almost frighteningly so.  And he does have an 
eidetic memory.  His parents died some time ago.  Evidently, 
Uncle Drellor thought he was a shoe-in for the Regent's job until 
the late King's will named Reinald.   The kid can't stand his uncle, 
by the way."
     "The kid's got good taste.  His uncle is a worm.  Very 
full of himself, ready to take credit for everything that turns out 
well.  If he pawed me one more time, I was going to -"
     "He was putting a move on you, Scully?  I knew I 
detested him on sight for some reason. Don't worry.  I'll change 
him into a frog or something - as soon as I learn how.  Here we 
are.  And you thought I had a bad sense of direction.  Oh, ye of 
little faith."
     Mulder pushed the door open.  Evidently, Lita had 
already been in to prepare the room.  The opaque bedcurtains had 
been loosed from their ties, creating a private cocoon in the midst 
of the large room, and the bedcovers had been opened in 
readiness.  With only two torches still lit and the fire dying down, 
the chamber was cloaked in a comfortable dusk.  Again, tea had 
been prepared on a tray by the fire.
     "Tea, Scully?"
     'Mmmm, please.  This could get to be a very nice habit - 
sitting and talking and having tea before bed,  Very civilized."  
She sat in one of the chairs and gratefully accepted the mug from 
Mulder.  "The nighttime tea is different from the daytime tea."
     "Yeah, this one probably has soporific properties, like 
the daytime tea has energizing ones.  Somehow, I don't think I'm 
going to have any problems with insomnia tonight.  I had a few 
minutes with Reinald while you were saying goodnight to 
Andalor.  I'll be spending the morning with him and then joining 
your friend Aldara.  Apparently, Reinald thinks it would be a 
good idea for me not to be completely dependent on my magic to 
save my life, which may not show much confidence in my magic, 
but it's nice he thinks my life is worth preserving.  Anyway, I'll be 
doing a couple of hours every afternoon with Aldara, playing 
Errol Flynn."
     Scully smiled knowingly.  "I must say, I'm looking 
forward to watching you."
     He chuckled.  "I'm sure.  Unfortunately, you won't get 
the chance.  When I show up, you're supposed to go find Corvay 
the Healer, and get updated on the latest in herbal and psychic 
healing."
     Scully looked dismayed.  "Mulder, I don't believe in 
psychic healing!  How can I learn something I don't even believe 
in?"
     He smiled.  "It's what I keep saying - open yourself up 
to extreme possibilities, Scully."  He smile faded.  "After all, it 
saved your life yesterday from the soul-eaters' toxin.  Anything 
that saves your life is an extreme possibility worth believing in."
     She stretched and groaned.  "Well right now I'd like to 
be able to psychicly heal my aching body.  I knew I had had a 
workout, but God, I'm really feeling it now."
     He walked over to her chair and gave her a hand up.  In 
a low voice he said, "Maybe I can do something about that.  Go 
get ready for bed."
     She looked at him quizzically, but his expression gave 
nothing away.  She walked to the armoire, plucked out a pale 
blue silky thing, and went into the bathroom.  Mulder gathered 
the used tea things on the tray, then extinguished the two torches.  
By the low light from the dying fire, he stripped out of his clothes 
and left them folded neatly over a chair.  Naked, he padded over 
to the armoire and chose some soft dark blue shorts and slipped 
them on. When Scully came out of the bathroom, he entered to 
take his turn.   Before the door closed, he stuck his head out of 
the opening.   "Oh, and Scully?  Take that blue thing off."
     Her head snapped around to look at him.  Her eyes were 
huge.  "What?" she said, in a hoarse whisper.     
     He smiled.  "Relax.  You're just going to get the best 
massage of your life.  Get into bed.  I'll be out in a minute."  He 
closed the door.
     When he emerged, Scully was in bed, covers up to her 
neck.  The blue nightshirt lay on the bedcover near the bottom of 
the bed.  Moving the silky hangings out of the way, he boosted 
himself up onto his side of the bed.  "Roll over."
     Somewhat apprehensively she complied, turning over 
onto her stomach.  He crawled over to her on hands and knees, 
straddled her upper thighs, and gently lowered himself.  "Okay?"  
     Silently, she nodded, then felt him pulling the warmth 
and safety of the bedclothes away, down past her shoulders, past 
her waist, just to the point she would have asked him to stop, had 
he not stopped of his own accord.   She felt him lean over her, his 
special aroma registering in her senses, his breath on her back.  
He placed his warm hands on her neck, his thumbs running up the 
back of her neck in tiny circles to unknot the muscles at the base 
of her skull.  When her neck muscles had relaxed, he started in 
first on her left shoulder, carefully avoiding the injured skin,  then 
the right.  Scully moaned a little, and he stopped. 
     "Did I hurt you?"
     "Unh-uh."  She shook her head a little.  "Feels 
wonderful."    
     His long fingers first kneaded the muscles of her 
shoulders and upper arms gently, then progressively more deeply 
until the knots had been completely smoothed out.  He made his 
way down each arm, even massaging the tiny muscles of her 
hands and fingers, until they lay limp on the mattress.  He then 
turned his attention to her back, his hands sweeping up in long, 
firm strokes.  
     "Sorry, Scully," he murmured.  "This would be a lot 
better with lotion or oil."
     Her words were muffled.  "Mulder, if it were any better, 
I couldn't stand it."
     He smiled, then probed the muscles around her shoulder 
blades with his strong fingers for several minutes, working out all 
the kinks, and smoothed the skin with gentle strokes from his 
palms before going on to the middle of her back and repeating 
the the same magic there.  Finally, he placed his hands low on the 
small of her back on either side of her spine, and using firm 
pressure made small circles with the heels of his hands over the 
tight muscles there.  Scully gasped softly.
     Mulder hesitated for a second and took a breath, then 
continued. His voice was soft and shook slightly.  "Any more of 
that, Dana, and I'm going to have to stop."   He let his hands 
venture under the covers, and sensing no protest, extended the 
deep massage to her tailbone and hips for several minutes.  Then 
he again smoothed the skin of her lower back with soft strokes 
from his palms before rolling up the covers to her shoulders.
     "Scully?"  he whispered.  "Dana?"  Her breathing was 
deep and regular.
     He leaned over her to try to catch a glimpse of her face, 
but couldn't.  Gently, he swept a lock of her hair back from the 
side of her neck and replaced it with his lips for the space of five 
heartbeats.  Then he rolled from her, moved the bedcurtains and 
slid off the bed.  Finding a blanket of sorts in the armoire,  he 
walked to the hearth, moved the armchairs to face one another, 
and stretched out.  Magician or not, there was no way he could 
stay in that bed with her right now.
     Eyes wide open, Scully drew in a tremulous breath.

                         
                   -----------------


     "Good.  Good, you're improving."  Aldara stopped to 
wipe the perspiration from her face with the back of her arm.  
"How about a break?"
     Scully collapsed gratefully where she stood near the hay 
bales, and leaned back into them for support.  She and Aldara 
had been drilling for what must have been hours now.   The 
removal of the language barrier had been a huge relief.  It had 
been nice to make small talk with Lita at breakfast this morning, 
and to be able to ask directions for getting around.  Aldara had 
lost no time in taking advantage of being able to communicate 
and had worked Scully very hard. Physically, she was bone-tired, 
but she was starting to come to terms about being here and with 
her role in the Realm. Already, she felt herself becoming stronger, 
and exulted in it.  Only when she thought of home and what her 
disappearance would do to her mother - again - did Scully have 
misgivings, so she tried to focus as much as possible on her job 
here.
     Aldara appeared, carrying the ubiquitous tea.  She 
handed Scully one mug and sat down in the dust near her.  
Searching in her pocket, she brought out two small pieces of 
fruit, and tossed one to Scully, who caught it and smiled her 
thanks.
     "It's nice to finally be able to talk," Scully began.  "How 
did you come to be a warrior?  Seems like an odd occupation in 
such a peaceful place."
     "It isn't always peaceful, it just seems that way.  Besides, 
there's the Prophecy - the time is coming, maybe soon." Her jaw 
tightened, then she repeated,   "So, how did I come to be a 
warrior?"   Aldara laughed, but it was laughter tinged with 
bitterness.   "Probably because I was always fighting as a kid.  I'm 
half human and half elf."  She drew her hair back to show Scully 
her pointed ears.  "Such mixtures aren't unknown, but they are 
unusual.  The beings usually stick to their own kind.  That was 
part of the problem, but not the biggest part.  The real problem 
was that elves are very sensitive to magic and auras, and my 
father was particularly sensitive, even for an elf.  He had abilities 
that, if they had been developed further, might have made him a 
very powerful magician.  
     "Of course once my mother and he got together, that 
was out of the question.  All my brothers and sisters seemed to 
inherit his physical characteristics and magic abilities - everyone 
except me.  I grew to be even taller than my human mother, and 
was totally blind to the metaphysical, compared to the special 
sight that my brothers and sisters had.  And which they never 
failed to use to their advantage whenever we played games or did 
chores.  I just never felt I belonged, especially after my mother 
died in my sixth summer.  I don't really blame my father, but he 
had more in common with the other kids, and spent more time 
and energy on them.  Nothing I did seemed to please him.  So I 
was always angry."  Again, she laughed bitterly.       "Quick 
anger is one of the few elven characteristics I did inherit from 
him.  Anyway, it became clear that I needed either a way to get 
rid of the anger or to use it, and using it was easier.  So I left 
home in my sixteenth harvest.  I lived in the forest by my wits for 
a while, getting stronger, learning of the world.  When I 
journeyed here to Fairwoods Keep, I offered my services and to 
my surprise, they accepted my offer."
     As Aldara talked, Scully couldn't help but make 
comparisons.  She, too, had always tried to please her father, 
coming to the realization only after he was gone that he had been 
proud of her all along.  And Mulder - his nightmare childhood 
didn't bear thinking about.  Funny, she thought, how these 
experiences affect us.  They either make us what we are, or we 
become what we are in spite of them.
     "Is the weather always changeable? That thunderstorm 
yesterday came out of nowhere." Scully still couldn't quite bring 
herelf to believe Mulder had caused it.
     Aldara looked puzzled for a minute, then her face 
cleared.  "Oh, you mean the Mage-storm."
     "Mage-storm...I don't know what that is," said Scully, 
frowning.
     Aldara looked at her strangely, wondering where this 
traveller was from that she didn't know about Mage-storms.  
"There's thunderstorms, and then there's Mage-storms.  Mage-
storms happen when a magician becomes furious," Aldara 
explained.  "They're different, more concentrated, more violent.  
They can even be directed at someone.  Just one of the countless 
ways that magicians can use their power to frighten and 
intimidate," she finished coldly.
     "I take it you don't like magicians much."
     Aldara shrugged.  "Not much, no."
     "My partner is a magician, you know.  At least Reinald 
thinks he is."
     "I know.  I heard."  She was unenthusiastic.  "Reinald's 
not bad, for a Mage."
     "I think you'll find that Mulder is quite a bit different 
from what you're expecting,"  Scully said.
     Aldara gave her an enigmatic look and stood up.  "Take 
the guard off your sword.  You've learned enough to protect 
yourself.  Let's see what you can do."
     Scully removed the guard, grasped the hilt with both 
hands, and assumed the correct stance.  With a throaty yell, she 
swung it first over her head and then toward Aldara, who fended 
off the blow easily, and launched one of her own.  Scully blocked 
it inelegantly but effectively.
     Mulder stood in the shelter of a stack of wooden crates 
and observed the amazing scene before him.  The clash of metal 
on metal rang in his ears as he watched the two figures whirl and 
thrust and parry, swinging the swords, much longer than their 
wielders were tall, with apparent ease.  Suddenly Aldara's 
weapon sliced through the air with incredible speed.  A thin line 
of red showed through the long cut in the left sleeve of Scully's 
tunic.  He caught his breath and just managed to bite back a cry 
of concern.  But if anything, the wound only spurred Scully on to 
greater ferocity.  Mulder, his heart still beating in his throat, was 
speechless.  Would his partner never cease to amaze him?  He 
could understand now why his overprotectiveness might seem 
like an insult.  He moved from behind the shelter of the crates 
and approached the two women.
     Scully lifted her sword and struck down at Aldara so 
hard that the warrior grunted, and a look of surprised approval 
came over her face.  A couple of deft moves later, however, 
Scully's weapon was flying out of her hands, coming to lodge in 
the ground at Mulder's feet, and Aldara's sword was at her throat.  
The two women looked at each other and tried to catch their 
breath.
     "Excellent, very promising," panted Aldara, smiling and 
nodding.
     Scully merely grinned in response, not having enough 
breath to speak yet.  But the praise from her exacting teacher 
elated her.  She walked over toward Mulder, and used two hands 
to pull the weapon from the ground.  She smiled up at him. "Hey, 
Mulder. You ready?"  She refastened the guard to her sword, and 
passed the weapon to Aldara.
     "From what I've seen, no, I'm not even close to being 
ready.  Are you a quick learner, Scully, or have you been hiding 
some of your talents from me?  Skinner should see you now."
     She flashed a grin at him, then turned to Aldara and 
said, "This is Mulder.  He can be a real pain in the ass, so don't 
let him give you any trouble."  Turning back to Mulder, she did 
not see the warrior's look of anxiety.
     "Good luck,  Mulder.  You'll need it.  Although I tired 
her out a little for you.  You have no idea how much I'd like to 
stay for your lesson," she smiled impudently.  Aldara's concern 
for her new friend grew.  Didn't Scully realize that one just did 
not speak to a Mage like this?
     "Have a nice class with Corvay,"  he teased.   In a very 
low voice, he said, "Maybe he can take a look at that arm.  You 
ladies don't play nice, do you?"  His half-smile did not entirely 
reach his eyes, which showed only his concern.
     "I'm okay, Mulder."  She turned and started walking 
back toward the castle, then called over her shoulder,  "Just be 
careful - she doesn't like magicians much."
     Inwardly, he groaned.  Oh, great.
     He walked over to Aldara and smiled.  "Hi.  I'm Mulder.  
I'd shake hands with you, but I've been told that has dire 
consequences."
     Her unfriendly stare thawed slightly for a moment, and 
then once again became glacier cold.  "What can you do with a 
sword, Mage?"
     "Well, I did a little fencing while I was at Oxford, but 
I've never used anything the size of those,"  He said, indicating 
the long blades.  "Besides, that was a long time ago."
     The language spell had some problems with "Oxford", 
but Aldara understood the essence of what he said.  "Those are 
women's weapons," she said, just short of making the words an 
insult.  She walked over to the weapons rack and chose a sword 
at least eight inches longer and five pounds heavier.  She attached 
a leather guard to it and handed it to Mulder, who was as startled 
as Scully had been at how heavy and cumbersome the weapon 
was.
     "Hold it like this.  Watch, then do what I do."  Quickly 
she demonstrated the basic moves.  All right, Mage, she thought.  
Let's see what you can do with that.  "Now, with me."
     Again, she quickly went through the sequence of 
practice moves and was surprised to see Mulder not only keeping 
up, but performing the actions with a grace and economy of 
motion that was astounding in a beginner.  Aldara frowned a little 
when they had finished.  "Not entirely bad.  Again, by yourself 
this time."
     Mulder swung the sword, performing the whirls and 
kicks and slashes that made up the basics of Realm 
swordsmanship.  Based on what Scully had said about Aldara's 
not liking magicians, he was not expecting effusive praise, 
although he felt he was doing pretty well.  He wondered what she 
had against Mages.  
     "Adequate.  And again." Aldara watched him with an 
eagle eye for mistakes.  For once, it was nice to have the upper 
hand when dealing with a Mage.  She drilled him for over an hour 
without stopping, and he performed the basic moves repeatedly 
without comment or complaint.  Perversely, the better he 
performed and the more he persevered, the more sullen Aldara 
became. So far, he had displayed no weakness, and had 
demonstrated skills that she had labored years to acquire.  It 
wasn't fair, she thought.  It wasn't fair at all.  She began to get 
angry.
     "Now, Mage, let's see if you can apply what you've 
learned and put your new skills to some practical use."  Aldara 
brought her sword up to fighting position.  Perhaps it was her 
anger, perhaps it was something deeper.  In any case, she did not 
notice that she had never refastened the leather guard onto her 
blade.
     Aldara launched herself at Mulder who acted purely out 
of instinct at first, throwing his blade up to repel hers, astonished 
at the force such a tiny figure could exert.  Before he could get 
over the shock of the first attack, she was at him again, coming 
from the opposite side.  Mulder dropped into a forward roll, 
sprang to his feet and turned to face her, bringing his sword from 
around his head to crash against hers with tremendous power.  
His unconventional move had startled her, breaking her 
concentration, and she had to use all her strength to fend off his 
blow.
     Aldara's temper flared as it hadn't done for years.  
Savagely, she attacked, swinging her sword, cutting the air with 
lightning speed, slicing through the air again and again.  Mulder 
defended himself as best he could, but was clearly not a match for 
the seasoned fighter.  He grimly maneuvered his blade to meet 
and stop each of her blows, knowing that he couldn't keep it up 
forever.  Finally, her blade bit into the leather guard on his sword, 
and caught.  Her next move twisted the weapon from his hands 
and sent it spinning out of his reach.  He went down hard on his 
back, her weapon sharp against his throat.  Urgently, he cried 
"Aldara, don't!"
     Hearing her name, Aldara slowly came to herself as her 
white-hot anger receded.  She looked down at her opponent on 
the ground.  Horrified, she saw the point of her unguarded sword 
under his chin, and a steady trickle of blood dripping from the tip 
of her weapon to collect in a little pool at the hollow of his 
throat.
     "Oh gods," she whimpered.  The sword fell from her 
hands as she backed away from Mulder, her horrified eyes never 
leaving his.
     He got to his feet a little shakily, wiping the blood from 
his throat with the back of his hand and breathing deeply to 
counteract the wave of dizziness that hit him.  He bent over with 
his head down, his hands braced on his knees.  "Interesting 
teaching methods," he gasped.
     Aldara continued to retreat, shaking her head in terror, 
tears rolling down her face, until her heel caught in one of the hay 
bales and she fell heavily against it.  Slowly standing upright and 
finding that the dizziness had passed, Mulder trudged over to her 
and extended a hand to help her up.
     "NO!" she screamed, cowering.  She threw her arms 
around her head and curled up in a ball, trembling from head to 
toe.
     Mulder stopped.  What the hell did HE do?  Obviously, 
his proximity just made things worse, so he backed off a few feet 
and sat on the ground, catching his breath.   His arms hugged his 
knees, and he rested his head on them, trying to clear his mind.  
Mentally he went through his magician's checklist, almost a 
mantra for him now, to make sure he wasn't inadvertently using 
his powers.  Satisfied that his controls were in place and his 
power grounded, he sat and rested, hearing Aldara's hysterical 
sobbing slow and quieten, waiting until she was rational enough 
to talk.
     Shakily, angrily, Aldara wiped her face.  What was he 
up to now?  Maybe he was plotting.  Maybe he would report her 
negligence to Jourdain, and she would be banished from the only 
real home she had ever known.  Or worse, he would tell Reinald.  
And then together they would think of a spell so awful - 
     "Aldara, are you all right?"  Mulder asked gently.  He 
was on his feet again and walking slowly toward her.  "Did I do 
something wrong, something to upset you?"  He sat on a bale a 
few feet away from her, anxiously scanning her face for any kind 
of a clue as to what was wrong.
     Her eyes narrowed.  What was this?  He actually 
seemed concerned about her.   He definitely wasn't angry - even 
with her extremely limited sensitivity, she would be able to 
discern the aura of an infuriated Mage. His aura shimmered a 
brilliant calm blue, like a lake on a windless summer day.
     "It was inexcusable," she whispered.  "You could have 
been killed."
     Mulder nodded.  "Did you think I was going to hurt 
you?"
     "I was angry, and I wanted to teach you a lesson, and I 
didn't notice the guard was missing.  Then I ....  Mages have 
killed people for far less reason.  When you tell Reinald, it may 
still be so."  The terror came back into Aldara's eyes.  She 
watched him closely.
     Mulder nodded again and considered.  He couldn't 
believe that Reinald would ever deliberately hurt anyone, but her 
terror was obviously very real. "Okay.  Then suppose we keep 
this our little secret."  Anything, to remove the fear from those 
amazing green eyes.
     Aldara knew she should be silent and thankful that she 
had emerged from this incident with her life and limbs intact.  But 
she just couldn't help herself.  "Why are you doing this?"
     "Because it was a mistake and you didn't do it 
deliberately.  Because I don't think it will ever happen again.  
Because you're Scully's friend.  Because you're a damned good 
teacher, and what you teach us could save our lives someday.  
Because I don't work that way, I don't do that kind of thing."  He 
shrugged.  "Lots of reasons."
     She sat up, starting to relax a little.  "You don't sound 
much like a Mage.  Scully said you were different."
     He chuckled. "Scully was right.  So - better now?"
     "Your throat - it's still bleeding a little.  I-I'm sorry, I 
really am." 
     He wiped at the blood on his throat again, looked at her 
and smiled.  "I know you are.  Don't worry about it, I've done 
worse myself, shaving."  He hesitated for a second.  "Do me a 
favor, though.  That's a pretty awe-inspiring temper you have, 
and it makes me nervous.  Don't ever get mad at Scully, okay?  In 
fact, don't get mad at me again, either.  If you're annoyed with 
me, tell me, alright?  It's all right, Scully gets annoyed with me all 
the time."
     She finally smiled a little, then.  Mulder stood and 
carefully extended his hand.  She just as carefully grasped it, as 
he helped her up.
     "Same time tomorrow?"
     Mutely, she nodded.
     "Okay.  Goodbye, Aldara.  Thanks for the lesson."
     Her  eyes followed him as he strolled back toward the 
castle, stopping to look at things which caught his interest on the 
way.  Scully was right.  He WAS different.
                         
                   -----------------


     Scully pushed at the huge wooden door which swung 
outward onto a pleasant, sunny garden.  At the far end of the 
garden was her destination, a small stone structure - the chamber 
and workroom of Corvay the Healer.  She made her way along 
the path that wound through the plant beds, noting the confusion 
of scents eminating from them.  The door of the little stone 
building was wide open and she poked her head inside.  
"Corvay?"  A muffled, distant-sounding voice called, "Enter."
     Scully walked tentatively into the large but cluttered 
room, looking around for the owner of the voice.  The room was 
long and narrow, with low ceilings, so low that in some places 
even Scully's head brushed the rough-hewn dark wood beams.   
Several cauldrons bubbled purposefully on the huge hearth, 
sending up clouds of steam.  On every surface there were mortars 
and pots and jars holding creams and powders and elixirs.  It 
looked chaotic, but she expected it was the same kind of chaos as 
in Mulder's office, where its occupant knew exactly where to lay 
his hands on everything.  "Corvay?"  Scully called again.
     A tiny figure emerged seemingly out of the very floor 
itself, until Scully noticed the open bulkhead doors which 
evidently led to some kind of a root cellar.  "Sorry, my dear.  Just 
gathering ingredients."  He put a burlap sack on the nearest 
empty place he could find and bustled over to her. "Perhaps we 
can have some tea and you can tell me all about yourself, 
hmmm?"  Corvay found a couple of low stools under a table and 
dragged them out, gesturing at Scully to sit.  He handed her a 
mug, then poured one for himself and sat.  She inhaled the fruit-
scented steam and sipped at the scalding liquid.
     "Now, I know you are a healer, I can see it in your aura.  
What training have you had?"  The elderly elf smiled expectantly.
     "I come from...very far away, and our cultures are very 
different.  The healers where I come from have many machines 
and many, many helpers and other things you don't have.  We 
may have some of the same herbal treatments - I think I noticed 
foxglove and nightshade in your garden.  But for the most part, 
our healers have different methods.  There is no psychic aspect to 
our healing."
     "No psychic aspect!"  The little healer was plainly 
shocked.  "How does anyone ever get better?  How can you 
repair the whole person - his mind and soul, as well as his body - 
if that aspect is neglected?   How can you remove the 
cornerstone and not have everything collapse?  Gods, how can 
you even be sure what is wrong, if you don't use your mental 
energy?"
     Scully shrugged, feeling she had to defend her world 
and her profession.  "We have developed complex 
instrumentation to help us diagnose the causes of injury and 
illness. Most of the time, it works fairly well.  In any case, it is 
the only form of healing we know."
     "What a strange place you come from,"  said Corvay, 
shaking his head.  "Healers that don't heal and magicians who 
never cast a single spell.  It would appear then that we have a lot 
to cover.  Thank the gods that your natural psi ability is so high."
     "Psi ability?  I'm sorry, but you must be mistaken,"  
Scully said, politely but firmly.
     "Oh no, no mistake, my dear.  You have quite 
exceptional ability, it's quite clear.  I can sense it from quite a 
distance.  I can tell it's untrained - your projections are not very 
focused  - but it is certainly there.  Very well, let's begin, shall 
we?"
     He bustled over to the table, his long brown tunic 
dragging on the wooden floor.  "Now, let's start with the herbals 
we have in common, and we'll go from there."
     For the next half hour or so, Scully wracked her brain 
for what she remembered of her botany and pharmacology 
classes.  Using quill pen and parchment supplied by the healer, 
she took careful notes, especially when the lesson proceeded into 
areas not covered in Med school, such as troll toxicology and the 
allergies common in gargoyles.  She was in the middle of such a 
note when she felt a sudden sense of disorientation. One instant 
she was sitting with Corvay, the next she was facing Aldara, who, 
with teeth bared in a ferocious grimace, was taking him/her to the 
ground with the point of her sword at his/her throat.  "Aldara, 
don't!"
     Corvay's head snapped up and he looked over to see a 
very white and shaken Scully.   "Sit down before you fall down, 
Scully, my dear."  The healer took her arm and helped her to a 
stool.  "Now, what's the problem?"
     "I'm okay - it was just for a minute - "
     " - you were somewhere else, " he continued for her, 
very matter of factly.  "With Mulder, I assume.  Everything all 
right now?"
     "I - yeah, I think so, I think it is now."  Scully took a 
couple of deep breaths and rubbed her throat thoughtfully.
     "Quite a demonstration for someone with no psi ability, 
wouldn't you say?"  teased Corvay.
     Scully gave him a long look, then dropped her head into 
her hands and didn't answer him.  What the hell was going on?  
She was really starting to doubt her sanity now.
     "This really is all very new to you, isn't it?'  asked the 
healer, wonderingly.
     Becoming more distressed by the second, Scully 
nodded.  "It never happened before we came here, and now it 
keeps happening - all of a sudden I'll be Mulder, or sometimes 
he'll be me - and it scares the hell out of me!  If that's what psi 
ability does for me, I don't want it!"  she shouted.    Scully felt 
like the floodgates were opening - all the misgivings and fears 
and threats to her beliefs were rushing out in a torrent.  She was 
near tears.   "It just happens, there's no controlling it.  I know it's

Mulder that's in there, and I know we're - we're close.   And 
while there's no one else I'd rather have in my brain, it's MY brain 
- I really don't want ANYONE randomly popping into it.  And 
when I'm in his head, I feel like I'm invading HIS privacy."  She 
was weeping openly now, her tone down to a hoarse whisper.  "I 
shared a nightmare with him the other night, something from his 
past, something that really happened.  I saw so much he hadn't 
told me, hadn't told anyone because he didn't WANT anyone to 
know - the terror, the pain, the guilt.  Now I know, and he knows 
that I know.  How's that supposed to make him feel?  What's that 
going to do to us, what will that kind of stress do to our 
relationship?  And what if someone other than Mulder gets in 
there?  At least I trust Mulder."  She wept, brokenly.  "What am I 
talking about?  None of this can be happening.  I really don't 
think I can take too much more of this."
     The healer took her small hands in his even smaller ones, 
and probed gently into her mind, mentally soothing, calming and 
comforting.  "First, I believe if you really think about it, you will 
find it did happen before you came here, but you weren't attuned 
to it.  Or more precisely, you didn't WANT to be attuned to it, so 
you tried to block it out.  It won't work, you know - you still 
have the gift, no matter how much you may try to ignore it."  He 
released her hands, and smiled. "And you really don't have to 
worry about anyone else being in your brain other than Mulder.  
Healers may enter, but we have a very strict ethical code about 
that kind of thing.  These empathic links between you and Mulder 
- it's not just your psi ability, there's something else at work here, 
too, something specific to the two of you.  There's no need to 
fear for your relationship, as in time you will come to understand.  
But I can help you learn to control these experiences."
     Scully was calmer now, and unaware that the healer had 
helped to instill that state, so gentle was his touch.  "How can I 
control what I'm not sure even exists?  You don't understand - 
this sort of thing goes against everything I've always believed in."
     "You don't believe in psychic healing, either?" asked the 
little elf.
     "Thoughts don't heal people,"  Scully said firmly.  
"Thoughts are just - thoughts."
     "Well, there's thoughts and there's psychic energy and 
the two are not necessarily the same, but we won't argue over 
semantics.  Someone who demands proof!  Very well, let us 
construct a little experiment, shall we?  What happened to your 
arm?"
     Scully glanced down. "Oh.  Just got a little too close to 
Aldara's sword.  It's nothing, it will heal in a few days."
     "What if I were to tell you that we - you - will heal it 
today, right now?"
     "I'd say that you were crazy,"  Scully said flatly.
     The healer laughed.  "Very well, we'll see.  Will you try 
this?"
     "Experimentation is at the very heart of the scientific 
method. I have no objection to an experiment,"  agreed Scully.
     "Good.  Get comfortable, and close your eyes. Just 
listen to me and do as I ask you to do.  Are you comfortable?"
     "Yes.  Look - you're not going to hypnotize me, are 
you?  I really don't want that."
     "If  you mean inducing a trance state, no, it's not like 
that, exactly.  I'm just the instruction manual, if you will.  I'm just

going to tell you what to do, and if you agree, you're going to do 
it.  In no way will you have to reveal yourself, or will you be 
under my power or anything like that.  Now, are you agreed?  
Ready to proceed?"
     "What if I change my mind after we've started?"  Scully 
was clearly nervous.
     "That's all right, you can do that.  I don't think you're 
going to want to, but you may do that if you wish, "  Corvay said 
patiently.
     Scully took a deep breath.  "All right, I'm ready."
     "Splendid.  Try to relax.  Place your right hand on your 
left arm. All right, clear your mind of everything except your arm,  
the wound in your arm.  Picture it.  Picture what is going on in 
your body right now, under your skin, in your veins - the 
elements of the healing process that are working to close the 
wound.  Visualize them, travelling to the wound.  Can you see 
them, Scully?" 
     Slowly, Scully nodded. As she listened to Corvay's 
soothing voice, she felt herself beginning to relax. And with the 
sense of calm, came an odd, yet somehow familiar, sense of inner 
awareness.
     "Watch them," Corvay urged gently.  "They are moving 
much too slowly.  They need to move faster.  Picture them 
moving more quickly.  Make them move faster, will them to 
move more quickly.  Let some of your energy flow from your 
hand to help them move more quickly. Can your hand feel them, 
can you see them moving faster?"
     Again, Scully nodded.  She COULD see them, the white 
cells racing to the site to prevent infection, the skin cells 
regenerating, faster and faster at her will.  She directed them, first 
here, now there, always more quickly.  Finally, from what 
sounded like a very long way away, she heard "You can let them 
move more slowly now, you can let them return to rest."
     "Scully, open your eyes."
     She dragged herself back from wherever she had been 
and looked at the healer, dazed and tired.  He was smiling at her.  
"Look at your arm and tell me I'm crazy."
     She looked down at her arm.  The deep abrasion was 
gone without a trace.  "I did that?" she said, shaken.
     Corvay nodded.  "You did it entirely yourself - all I did 
was to help you center your thoughts, your energy.  The healing 
you did on your own.  Now, this was very simple test, it's usually 
much more involved, but I think we can call the experiment a 
success, wouldn't you agree?"
     "Yes,"  said Scully absently.  "Yes, I guess so."  She 
looked disturbed, more now than she had earlier.
     "What is it, my dear?" asked Corvay, surprised.  He had 
expected her to be pleased that she had successfully healed the 
scratch, especially at her first attempt.  Her reaction puzzled him.
     She looked at him, the confusion and pain, almost panic, 
evident in her eyes.   "I need to think about this.  Will you please 
excuse me?"
     He stood back and watched her trip blindly through the 
door and out into the garden.
                         - - - - -

     After his taxing morning with Reinald followed by his 
workout with Aldara, Mulder had returned to their bedchamber 
exhausted.  Intending to do nothing but sit and relax by the fire, 
he had felt himself sliding further and further into a state of 
torpor, finally succumbing entirely.  Suddenly he awoke, with a 
disturbing picture in his mind.  But what he saw made no sense.  
In his mind was an image of a building, a fine tall modernistic 
skyscraper.  Suddenly, the foundation began cracking, mortar and 
stone crumbling to dust before his eyes.  The cracks spread 
further, higher up, to weaken all the upper stories of the building.  
More stone and brick started falling from the building, until with 
an ungodly roar, the whole structure started to collapse in a 
cloud of dust.  And somehow, all of this had a connection with 
Scully.  He tried to quell the rising anxiety he felt.  It couldn't be 
really happening, there were no skyscrapers in this world.  A 
representation, then?  A psychic analogy?  But for what?  
     He made a conscious effort to relax and make his mind 
receptive.  Gradually, his surroundings changed.  They were 
vague shadows at first, but the images soon became sharper and 
more defined.  He was in a low, crowded room, a room that 
smelled oddly, with lots of jars and things around.  Scully!  He 
saw Scully, and she was with Corvay, and she was upset, near 
tears.  Then, like a door had opened, he heard them speaking, 
Corvay pleased with the success of some experiment, Scully 
shaken to her core.  A healing experiment, Scully had tried 
psychic healing and had succeeded.  But rather than feeling happy 
about it, she was confused, lost.  All her long held-beliefs were 
crumbling, and she was too frightened to believe in anything else.
     Mulder felt her turbulent emotions, her incredible pain, 
the sense of betrayal, of fear, of being alone.   Standing, he saw 
her stumbling down long stone corridors in emotional agony.  He 
had to get to her.   Now.
                         - - - - -

     Almost in a daze, Scully followed the hallways, taking 
notice of nothing, her feet moving automatically, stumbling a 
little over uneven areas in the stone floors.  Corridors that don't 
exist, thought Scully.  They CAN'T exist.  Because if they exist, 
then everything else does as well.  And the magic and the psychic 
healing and the gargoyles and elves and trolls - none of those can 
exist, they can't be real. Only science...only science -  Scully's 
vision was blinded by the hot tears welling up in her eyes.  
Science didn't explain any of this.  Therefore, it couldn't be 
happening, right?  She was insane, or have been slipped some 
hallucinogenic drug or something.  Not much comfort there.
     Or was science betraying her?  Maybe all this existed 
and science wasn't real, and she had been believing in a lie, living 
a lie her whole life.
     Scully's pace quickened, as if she could flee the torment 
of her thoughts.  Oblivious to everything else, she rounded a 
corner and crashed into some young guards wearing the colors of 
one of the noble houses.   She backed up without really seeing 
them, mumbled a vague apology, and moved to go around them.
     "Not so fast, woman,"  said the tallest one as he roughly 
grabbed her left wrist.  "We are of the House of Dordinal, and 
you will give us the respect we deserve."  His friends muttered 
encouragement.  There were four of them in all, young humans 
spoiling for trouble.
     "Look, I'm sorry, it was an accident."  Scully's voice had 
an edge to it, born of the emotional turmoil she had experienced 
that afternoon.  The last thing she needed was a gang of bullies - 
drunk, by the smell of them -  to have to deal with.  She 
attempted to break free of his grasp, but he tightened it, throwing 
her painfully against the stone wall of the hallway and pinning her 
there with the weight of his body.
     He leered down at her. "I don't think you're sorry, you 
don't sound sorry at all.  Whose servant are you, that they let you 
go about in ripped and dirty clothing and insulting the cream of 
the House of Dordinal?"  The hand not grasping her wrist slid 
down her face, her neck and continued touching and grabbing at 
her the length of her body.  His friends looked on avidly, calling 
their support.
     A little belatedly, Scully's mind turned from the problem 
of her crumbling belief system and applied itself to the more 
urgent problem at hand.  Coldly, clearly, she said,  "I'm only 
going to say this once.  Let go of me and back off now."
     Her words were greeted with hoots of derision by the 
his friends, and with furor by the guard holding her.  His free 
hand now went to her throat, squeezing, and he practically spat 
out, "You will live or die by my pleasure, bitch, and you'll wish 
you were dead before I'm through."
     Suddenly, Scully felt an icy anger overwhelm her.  Her 
right hand flashed out to her captor's belt and ripped his dagger 
from its sheath.  She pressed it to his throat.  Looking directly 
into his drunken face and never raising her voice, she said,  "I 
said, let go of me and back...off...now."
     The other guards were confused for a few seconds, then 
began to move toward her.  Smiling, she pressed on the knife tip, 
drawing blood, and the guard's eyes grew wide.  "Get back!  
She's a lunatic!  She's going to kill me!"  The others stopped and 
began to back away.  Suddenly, Scully felt Mulder with her in her 
mind, frantically trying to find her in the maze of hallways.  
Mentally she reassured him, and maintained the contact, letting it 
act as a beacon to draw him to her.
     "Now,"  she snarled, never removing the pressure of the 
dagger tip, "Let's get something straight.  I am a guest of the 
Mage Reinald, and I have travelled here with another Mage.  
Don't EVER touch me again.  Don't ever lay your hands on ANY 
woman as you have touched me.  One word from me will have 
two Mages deciding your fate, and your puny imaginations can't 
even begin to think of the horror they will cast for you.  Is that 
clear?"
     Most of the young guards backed away at the mention 
of Reinald's name.  The bully who had threatened her was mad 
with terror.  But one of his friends looked at her and sneered to 
the others, "She's lying, look at her.  She doesn't know any Mage.  
We can take her!"
     Coolly, a voice said,  "I wouldn't try - I've seen her in 
action, and frankly, I don't think you stand a chance.  In fact, I 
don't think you boys are responsible enough to be around sharp 
objects right now."  He was still for a few a seconds, then 
suddenly, their swords flew from their sheaths to hang in midair 
next to Mulder, who leaned against a wall, shield deliberately 
tuned down to let his mage aura flare, arms crossed negligently in 
front of him.  Four pairs of eyes stared, then four sets of legs 
pounded away from them down the hallway, stumbling in their 
panic.
     Mulder walked over to Scully.  "Tough day?"
                         - - - - -

     They walked mutely back to their chamber, where Lita 
had laid the table for a meal neither of them really wanted.  They 
ate a little, out of a sense of duty to Lita and to their stomachs, 
but sighed with relief when she cleared away the supper things, 
readied the room for the night, and departed.  They moved to the 
armchairs and sat staring into the fire, lost in their own thoughts, 
occasionally wondering who would be the first to break the long 
silence that stretched out between them.
     "Mulder, I owe you an apology."
     He looked over at her, startled.  Of all the things she 
could have said, this was the least expected.   "What makes you 
think that, Scully?"  he asked softly.
     She continued to look into the fire.  "Because during 
our entire association, I've been denying what you've shown me, 
denying what my own eyes have seen.  Denying everything 
because I couldn't explain it using scientific law.  I don't know 
anything anymore, Mulder."  She turned to look at him, the pain 
of her admission reflected in her eyes.  "In the last two days, 
we've seen and experienced things that make anything we've seen 
before pale in comparison.  And I can't explain any of it.   I don't 
know what to believe anymore, what to put my trust in.  But I 
know it's not science."
     He looked at her with limitless sympathy.  "I can't tell 
you what to believe, Scully.  I wish I could.  But you have to 
decide that for yourself.  Science explains some things very well.  
Maybe we don't know enough about science. Maybe we just have 
to expand its definition a bit; or consider magic the local 
equivalent of science. It certainly follows a distinct set of rules - 
or laws - which are determined by experimentation. Goodness 
knows I've spent enough time memorizing them."  He shrugged.  
"As for why things work one way in our world and another way 
here, I don't know. Perhaps certain things just ARE.  Maybe you 
should just accept that and move on from there."
     She sat and thought for some time about what he said, 
and once again there was silence between them.
     She sighed.  "I had another one today - a vision.  What 
happened between you and Aldara?"
     "She got angry with me and got a little carried away.  
You know how I can have that effect on people,"  he smiled.  
"Don't worry, it's all straightened out now, everything's fine.  I 
had one too - when you were upset after you did some psychic 
healing.  Congratulations, by the way."
     Scully nodded.  "Yeah.  Well."   She shifted in the chair.  
"I - ummm - spoke to Corvay about the visions.  He seems to 
think they're a function of my psi abilities and something 
particular about the two of us that he was very coy about.  In any 
case, he wasn't surprised that we were having them.  Mulder, 
how do you really feel about the visions?"
     He didn't insult her by giving her an easy, quick answer 
that he thought she'd find palatable.  He considered the question 
for a long time and answered her honestly.  "There are aspects of 
it I could do without, "  he admitted.  "Don't get me wrong, 
Scully, if anyone has to be in my head, I'd want it to be you,"  he 
said hastily.  "But there's things in there I hate looking at, myself. 

I hate even more the idea of their being inflicted on you."
     Scully smiled a little.  "That's almost exactly what I said 
to Corvay.  It's not so much that what's in there is shocking or 
disillusioning or whatever.  We know each other pretty well - 
strengths, weaknesses, bad habits, sex lives or lack of them.  That 
stuff is minor.  It's more the sense of trespass that bothers me.  
Does that make any sense?"
     "Perfect sense,"  he agreed, nodding.  "But Scully, I 
have to tell you.  Mostly I don't mind it, in fact I really kind of 
like it.  Today, for the first time, I consciously used this empathic 
link we seem to share.  I was concerned about you and I just 
reached out and I saw you.  It was amazing."   His voice was soft 
with awe and wonder.  "Then I came looking for you and I felt 
like," - he looked at her for confirmation - "like you were 
reaching out to me.  And it made me feel better.  And it led me 
right to you." 
     She nodded.   "Yeah, I thought I might need your help 
with those guards.  It was interesting, using the link that way, 
consciously I mean.  Also somewhat ironic, as I was well on the 
way to convincing myself that it didn't exist."  Thoughtfully, she 
said, "Corvay said we could learn to control it.   Presumably he 
meant to preserve some privacy, or make it a voluntary rather 
than an involuntary link."  Scully sighed.  "I guess I feel pretty 
much as you do.  I can certainly see where it would come in 
handy, as it did today.  I can also see where unless we learn to 
control it, that it could be a terrible invasion, too."  She was quiet 
for a while, her head back against the chair cushion and her eyes 
closed.  "I'm so tired,"  she said simply.
     "We'll deal with this better in the morning after some 
rest.  We can both go see Corvay, see what we can do about 
controlling this. You go ahead and take the bathroom first."
     Mulder performed what he was beginning to think of as 
his nighttime duties - checking on the fire, clearing up, 
extinguishing the torches.  He undressed and chose some shorts 
from the armoire and pulled them on.  On his way to the 
bathroom, he gave Scully a boost into bed.  A few minutes later 
he came out, extinguished the last torch, and got into bed.
     For a long time they lay with a wide expanse of bed - 
their no man's land - between them.  Consumed and exhausted by 
their thoughts, they willed their bodies and minds to relax, for 
sleep to come.  Out of nowhere, Mulder thought he heard a tiny 
voice, so faint as to be almost inaudible, as if it were coming from 
a locked vault.  Lost and alone, the tiny voice pleaded,  "Hold 
me."  Did that come from me or from Scully, he wondered.  The 
aching need to hold and to be held grew overwhelming.  Now the 
voice grew stronger, out from behind barriers.  "Hold me!"  it 
insisted, demanding to be heard, demanding to be obeyed.  
     They found each other in their no man's land, and found 
their peace, sleeping soundly in each other's arms.

                         
                   -----------------



     Time passed. For Mulder and Scully the days were filled 
with what had become a familiar routine. Lesson piled upon 
lesson, in an almost overwhelming flood of information and skills 
to be learned. Yet absorbed as they were by the intensive 
training, they still managed to find time to explore the 
labyrinthine corridors of the castle, and to make friends among 
the varied and colorful residents of Fairwood Castle. They soon 
came to like and respect the peoples of the Realm.
      As the flow of days and nights turned into weeks, 
Aldara continued to push Scully hard, drilling her for hours on 
the practice fields. It seemed to Scully that no sooner had she 
mastered one skill, the relentless half-elf would have several more 
for her to learn, each increasingly more difficult than the last. The 
soft skin of her hands blistered then hardened into tough calluses, 
while the untried muscles of her arms and shoulders slowly, 
achingly strengthened until the unfamiliar weight of the sword 
became a comfortable extension of her hand. 
     There was no small sense of triumph when out of a 
combination of frustration and fierce determination, she finally 
pierced through her instructor's guard for the first time, scraping 
Aldara's shoulder with the point of her sword. But even more 
satisfying than the increasing confidence in her own abilities, was 
the warmth of friendship and understanding that flourished 
between the dark half-elf warrior and her human pupil.
     The hours spent in exhausting physical combat training 
were balanced by the mental challenge provided by the demands 
of Realm-style healing. At first Scully had been deeply skeptical 
of Corvay, her scientific training making her suspicious of his 
spell and herb-based treatments. But doubt had given way to 
astonishment and fascination, as her own unexpected talent 
asserted itself. Every sensation of a patient's pain working its way 
into her body, each successful probe of her mind into the tissues 
and cells, feeling them respond to the force of her will, increased 
her desire to learn even more. The disciplines of mind and body 
complemented each other, new skills building on the previous 
ones, so that by the end of each long day she would find herself 
wandering back to the room she shared with Mulder with a 
mixed sense of accomplishment and bone-deep exhaustion.
     The long days were no less trying for Fox Mulder. 
Reinald drove him with ruthless fervor, trying desperately to 
squeeze a lifetime's worth of learning into a few precious weeks. 
They progressed in leaps and spurts, interspersed by long hours 
of frustration as Mulder struggled valiantly to control the mage-
energy that always seemed so close to bursting out of his 
wavering grasp. Learning the history, rules, and long spell chants 
was easier, his eidetic memory devoured knowledge at an 
extraordinary rate. The problem was in translating the intellectual 
understanding into successful performance -  something that can 
only come with experience, and both men were only too aware 
that their time was running short. 
                         - - - - -      

     Fox Mulder rested his hands on the top of the stone wall 
and stared out into the garden. So much of it was familiar, green 
grass, bright flowers, oak and pine and maple trees. But then, just 
out of the corner of his eye, there would be an odd combination 
of colors, a strange shape, an anomaly. Sometimes it would be no 
more than a purple colored fruit, or a quick glimpse of an elf's 
pointed ear. Sometimes it would as unnerving as a gargoyle's 
pointed smile and or a troll's clawed hand. Continuous reminders 
of just how far from home they were.
     As dusk turned to night, the stars began to twinkle 
against the soft black of the sky. Mulder tipped his head back and 
stared at the unfamiliar constellations, searching yet again for a 
recognizable configuration of little bright dots. There, perhaps, an 
overstretched big dipper perhaps, and there just possibly a two-
belted Orion. He shook his head, a feeling of intense home-
sickness sweeping over him. Would they ever find their way 
back?
     "Mulder?"  Scully's voice was warm in his ear. He didn't 
respond as her footsteps brought her to his side. He hadn't 
needed to hear her voice to know she was behind him, by now he 
always knew where she was. It was like having a part of himself 
walking around separate, and yet not separate. As she came to 
stand next to him, her head tilted upwards toward him, her 
auburn hair slipping down over her shoulders in a riot of color.
     "The stars are different." Mulder finally angled his head 
to look down at her. "Have you noticed that, Scully."
     "Yes," she replied. "But it's the two moons that always 
surprises me." Mulder nodded, and turned to stare back up at the 
sky. Scully watched him in silence, admiring the way the long, 
dark blue tunic graced the lean strength of his body as the wind 
stirred up tendrils of his dark hair, which he had been letting 
grow out of its FBI-standard short cut. She loved how the sharp 
planes and angles of his face were defined by the dim light, the 
hollows lining his high cheekbones and the determined thrust of 
his jaw. His dark hazel eyes were turned away from her now, 
searching the sky for the answers it refused to supply.
     "We'll get home." Scully spoke with a confidence she 
didn't feel. He just shrugged his shoulders. No use in going over 
it again, the hopeless round of questions without answers. There 
was simply no assurance that the vortex would ever open to their 
world again, even if Reinald tried to influence it. Apologetic as he 
had been, the mage could make no promises that he could direct 
the portal successfully; the attempt that had brought them 
through had been more chance than expertise. And given that one 
portal opening was tuned to the Dark Realm, would it even be 
safe to try? Beyond that, there remained the question of whether 
they could abandon this Realm to its fate, thereby failing to aid 
the people who were quickly becoming their friends. Neither 
Mulder or Scully could find any easy solutions.
     "Yes, of course we will." Mulder spoke the words as if 
by saying them he could simply make it so. A small voice inside 
him said that he would make it work, at least for Scully. He was 
going to see her home safe, if he had to die trying.
     As if she had read his thoughts, and perhaps she had, 
Scully reached out to grasp his arm. "The operative word there is 
'we,' Mulder. No more 'drawing the line' for me. I'll draw my 
own, and the first one is that, whatever happens to us, we handle 
it together. Leave me and I'll find you and kick your ass, even if I 
have to go through ten vortexes to do it."
     Mulder laughed, and placed his hand over hers. "I'd 
never even think about it, Scully. I've seen you handle a sword." 
A sudden image flashed in front of his eyes from their practice 
swordfight just a few days before. This beautiful woman, now 
dressed in a flowing blue gown, her hair curled into soft ringlets, 
had then been standing triumphant over his prone body, the point 
of her sword unerringly aimed at his throat. Her lips raised in a 
half-snarl, her blue eyes had glittered down at him from a flushed 
and dusty face, her breath coming in short gasps as she recovered 
from the fury of the swordplay. His greatest surprise hadn't been 
losing to her, which he had done many times before, it had been 
the sudden realization that she had never looked more gloriously 
lovely, more truly, dominantly herself, than she did in that very 
moment, despite all the dirt and sweat and disheveled clothes.
     Of course, that hadn't stopped him from giving her a 
literal shock of his own. Closing his eyes in apparent surrender, 
he had sent a wave of magical energy up the sword, turning the 
metal hotter and hotter until she dropped the glowing silver metal 
with a cry of dismay. He wasn't likely to ever forget the flash of 
fury in her eyes as she realized what he'd done, even though it 
had disappeared in a rapid wave of mirth, as she laughingly 
accused him of cheating. 
     "And don't forget it!" she challenged him lightly, jolting 
him out of his reverie. A smile hovering on the edge of his lips, he 
didn't bother to reply. Instead he stood staring down into her 
eyes, suddenly held spellbound by one of those flashes of 
communion, those rare, but consuming instants in which they 
were bound in total understanding. They froze in place, minds 
melding, as bright images burned into their brain, each seeing 
him/herself as though looking through the other's eyes. "Is that 
how I look to him/her?" they thought simultaneously, a flood of 
emotions threatening to break the dam of self-control each had so 
carefully built.
     Scully unconsciously leaned up against Mulder as he 
bent his head down to hers, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss so 
sweet it brought tears to her eyes. She responded avidly, pressing 
her body up against the heat of his, sighing deep in her throat. 
For a long precious moment, they savored the touch and feel of 
each other, only to have the enchantment broken as his mouth 
found the salty drops on her cheeks.
     "Dana," he breathed her name, his eyes finding hers as 
he gently stroked her cheek. She saw the fear and anxiety deepen 
in his expression, turning the diamond-like color of his eyes into 
coal. She shook her head slightly, not able to find the words to 
express what she was feeling, and just as quickly as it had come, 
the instant of empathy faded and was gone, leaving them shaken 
and confused in its aftermath. They remained clasped in each 
other's arms, neither willing to make the first move for several 
endless uncomfortable seconds. 
     Then with a deep breath, Mulder stepped back away 
from her. Holding his left hand out between them, he narrowed 
his eyes in concentration. In no more than a blink of an eye, a 
small glowing sphere of blue light appeared in the palm of his 
hand. A flick of his wrist sent it spinning upwards to float a few 
inches above his shoulder. Smiling in satisfaction, he looked 
down at Scully who was watching him with a mixture of 
amusement and rueful amazement. 
     "Would you like to take a walk in the garden, my 
Lady?" He bowed gracefully at the waist, then held out his arm 
for her.
     Scully let out a bright peal of laughter as she took his 
proffered elbow, deeply relieved and delighted to have the 
uncomfortable silence broken by his irreverent good humor. "I'd 
love to, kind sir" she replied.
     Together they walked around the stone wall and down 
the path, their way lit by the small blue globe floating a few 
inches above their heads.
                         
     In the shadows under a large oak, a small brown figure 
watched them walk by, the small vibrant woman leaning happily 
against her taller male companion.  Totally absorbed in each 
other, neither noticed their silent observer, innocently unaware of 
the jealous rage stirring in his heart. 
                         - - - - - 

     Mirta bounced on the hay in her parent's wagon. 
"Market Day! Market Day!" The little troll was so excited. She 
loved going to the big human village with its bright colors, bustle 
and activity, and above all its stalls filled with food of all kinds. 
Last month her mother had bought her a fancy pastry with 
crumbly bread surrounding a spicy meat filling. Her stomach 
growled just at the thought, while she leaped even higher into the 
air, laughing as she fell down hard into the soft hay. At her 
mother's warning glance, she settled down in the wagon, giggling 
with joy.
                         - - - - - 

     From the edge of the forest, the green-scaled Hunter 
scout eyed the little troll with hunger boiling in its belly. She 
would make no more than a couple of mouthfuls, a sweet-tasting 
appetizer, but her parents would make a full meal. Gearing up on 
its powerful hind legs, it poised itself to attack.
                         - - - - - 

     Market Day at Wide River village was an important 
event in the southwest region of Fairwood Domain, happening 
only once a moon-cycle. People of all races flocked to the little 
town with wagons full of wares and goods. By dawn, the central 
green was already crowded with little stalls, filled with everything 
from fruits and vegetables to linen, cutlery, weapons and 
livestock.
     The air filled with a wide variety of appetizing smells, 
laughter and bargaining, children's voices raised in play. Elves 
bargained with trolls, and gargoyles with humans, trading a 
gleaming silver knife for a hand-crafted pot, a painstakingly 
embroidered shirt for a rare set of spices, bread for meat. Amid 
the bustle and hustle, children darted in and out, chasing each 
other in an elaborate variety of games. 
     It was into the middle of this semi-organized chaos that 
the troll family's wagon, bobbling on a broken axle, was dragged 
by a pair of snorting, wild-eyed horses.
     "Henon, Watch out!" screamed a young gargoyle, 
grabbing her brother's hand and yank him out of the way of the 
way of the rearing, bloodied horses as they raced panic-stricken 
into the busy marketplace. People scattered out of the way as hay 
and vegetables spilled from the damaged wagon. Finally crashing 
head-first into a food stand, the horses squealed and reared up 
onto their hind legs, front hooves clawing the air in terror, 
coming to halt amid a mess of spilled stew and rolling loaves of 
bread.
     One small object rolled out of the wagon to come to halt 
at the feet of a young elven girl, her white-blond hair bound into 
two long braids behind her pointed ears. Reaching automatically 
to pick it up, her skin turned a pale white as a stunned gasp of 
fright escaped her lips. Taking a huge lung full of air, she let out a 
horrific screetch.
     "Hunters," she cried in sudden comprehension. 
"Hunters! Hunters! Hunters!" 
     Almost simultaneously, the tower watch echoed her 
cries, alarm drums sounding in a frantic, staccato beat. No one 
wasted a moment in response. Pandemonium broke loose as 
mothers grabbed children, brothers grabbed sisters, men reached 
for swords and knives and spears. A thousand voices yelled at 
once as stalls full of goods, dishes and linens, vegetables and 
jewelry, bread, and tools were abandoned. As the last door was 
slammed and bolted, the town gate swung shut with a bang, 
leaving only a determined line of armed men fiercely eyeing the 
road from whence the wagon had come. In the deserted 
marketplace, amid the scattered breads and dusty trails of stew, 
the small object lay still and abandoned on the ground: the ripped 
and bloody hand of a baby troll.
                         - - - - -
     
     The villagers fought valiantly, the men fighting 
desperately to protect their families and homes. But inch by inch, 
death by death, the pack of Hunters devoured their way closer to 
the village. In the center of the pack were a pair of Destroyers, 
their twisted, half-human, half-lupine faces sneering in a mockery 
of pleasure as they watched each man stumble and fall, 
surrounded by the eternally hungry Hunters. One Destroyer 
leaned down off its mount and wrenched the arm off a half-
devoured, still living man, laughing as the human convulsed in 
voiceless agony and  collapsed as a hunter tore into the skin of 
his neck, nearly detaching his head in one clean bite.
     The Destroyer leaped on ahead, brandishing the severed 
arm like a trophy, only to be struck in the face with a blast of blue 
flame. Standing on the roof of the gate tower, the village mage 
braced himself, and drawing on every last bit of energy he had, he 
let loose one more blue thunderbolt, this time striking the twisted 
dark-clad figure in the center of his chest. With a roar of 
agonized rage, it fell backwards from its mount, an 
unrecognizably horrible beast with the face of a wolf and the 
body of a lizard. Startled by the sudden loss of its master, the 
beast reared up, clawing the air, while its barely humanoid rider 
scrambled to his feet. 
     From his perch on the top of the village gate-tower, 
Bradnor gathered the shreds of his shield around himself, 
anticipating a counter-attack from the now upright Destroyer. 
The cloak fell back from the creature's face, revealing cold yellow 
eyes and pointed fangs. Bradnor braced himself as it cursed 
vehemently in a raspy voice and directed a gnarled hand with 
long, pointed fingers at him. A black, roiling whirlwind appeared 
as the Destroyer snarled out a series of unintelligible syllables, 
spinning toward the young, terror-sticken mage, excreting a 
appalling stench.
     Falling down into the center of a sticky web that 
inexorably tightened upon his mind and body, the village mage 
closed his eyes and threw his remaining life's energy into a 
desperate call for help. Even as the sticky filaments ate into his 
flesh like acid, his mind fought its way loose, abandoning his 
doomed body, ranging across the Realm in search of a mind 
strong enough to hear his call.
                         
                         
                   -----------------


     Fox Mulder swung the sword sideways, determined that 
this time he was going to beat Aldara without having to resort to 
magic. His small, quick opponent leapt forward, her sword 
flashing in the sun as it weaved an intricate dance, nearly striking 
him in the center of his chest. But he was ready for it. Leaping 
sideways, he brought his sword down in an arch on her extended 
arm, hitting her forearm with the flat of the blade. "Got you...." 
he crowed, his voice trailing off as the sudden weight of another's 
mind came crashing down upon him.
     His weapon clattering to the ground, Mulder clutched at 
his throbbing temples as he was deluged with a vivid series of 
nightmarish images: a creature from his worst nightmare waving 
the bloody stump of a human arm, lizard-like creatures with 
stubby wings and long jaws spitting fire at a small group of men 
defending themselves with swords and pitchforks, a spinning 
black spider web closing in on him, tightening on his limbs, 
squeezing the breath from his lungs. He opened his mouth to 
scream, but nothing came out.
     Aldara's words of praise and challenge stopped in mid-
flow as Mulder collapsed to the ground, cradling his head in his 
hands. She rushed forward to grab hold of him, but he pushed her 
away with trembling hands, mage energy sending blue currents 
up and down his body. As sparks shot out into the air, the sky 
grew thick and dark. A bolt of lightning struck Mulder's 
forgotten sword in a brilliant flash of light, sending Aldara 
scurrying backwards away from the trembling, senseless mage. 
     Water drained from a boiling gray mass of clouds, 
turning the dusty practice field into a sea of mud. In its center a 
tall, slender figure slowly pulled himself to his feet and with a 
sobbing cry stretched up his arms toward the sky. Blue fire 
lanced around those arms, flames spurting out into the rain, 
throwing an eerie blue gleam over the scene. Lightning raced 
through the atmosphere, then gathered and flowed downwards 
twining itself around the blue-glazed man who stood alone.
     Bitter laughter echoed as he tossed bolts of blue and 
white power up at the menacing clouds, causing them to scatter 
and break, froth and rage. Lightning bounced up and down, 
creating a blinding firestorm of light.  Rain fell in thick sheets, 
shimmering curtains of water lit by brilliant rays of light, 
eminating outward in strobe-like fashion from the seemingly frail 
body standing upright at the center of the hurricane. The Mage-
storm grew in intensity until it crashed inward on itself, exploding 
currents of blue-tinged air gushing outwards to flatten everything 
in their path. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. 
     Aldara picked herself up off the ground wearily, 
automatically checking to see if any bones had been broken. Then 
eyeing the motionless man - Mage - standing drenched and mud-
stained several feet away, she was hit by a sudden desire to run as 
far and fast as she could. What on earth had she thought she was 
doing, playing sword master to a Mage of such power? One 
wrong move and he could blast her from this world with no more 
than a casual thought. She had been a fool to let a warm smile 
and friendly good humor blind her to what he truly was. 
     Terrified and angry, she turned to leave, when the sound 
of a body hitting the ground in a splashing thud caught her 
attention, and despite herself she turned to look. Mulder had 
collapsed in an awkward pile of limbs, his face pressed down into 
a puddle of mud, his legs splayed out at uncomfortable angles. 
She took one step towards him, then halted, then took another, 
then halted again. Finally cursing her own foolhardy stupidity, she 
rushed over to his side, pulling his head up to rest in her lap.
     "MULDER!" Nearly tumbling down into the mud as she 
ran across the soaked field, Scully slid down beside her 
unconscious partner and shoved Aldara aside, too upset to even 
notice her as more than an obstacle. 
     Perfectly willing to hand Mulder over to Scully, Aldara 
wiggled backwards, gasping in surprise a big hand closed around 
her arm and effortlessly pulled her to her feet. Her eyes flashing 
upwards, hands automatically moving into a defensive posture, 
she abruptly relaxed she found herself staring into the worried 
face of Captain Jourdain. "What happened?" he asked, even as 
the blue-robed figure of Mage Reinald rushed past them both to 
kneel down beside Scully and Mulder. 
     "I don't know," Aldara replied, trying to rub some of the 
muck off her face with an equally dirty hand, as she looked up 
into Jourdain's blue eyes. "One minute we were practicing - he 
was doing well - the next he just collapsed. Then he started 
throwing mage energy like a child throwing hoopballs.  I've never 
seen so much power, I thought he was going to burn himself 
alive!"
     Jourdain held the small half-elf close, his large hands 
nearly spanning her waist. "Just thank the Gods he didn't burn 
YOU alive."
     "No," Reinald interrupted, from his position below their 
feet. "Mulder would never do anything to hurt you, Aldara. He 
was just taken by surprise. The village of Wide River was 
attacked by a pack of Hunters led by two Destroyers. The village 
mage sent out a cry for help, just as he was dying. Mulder 
received the brunt of it because I was heavily shielded in my 
workroom, testing out a very precise spell. I think Mulder was 
overwhelmed by being mind-linked to the other mage at the very 
moment he died. Mulder's mind may believe it died too, and that 
belief could be enough to convince his body as well."
     Jourdain stared Mulder's prone figure, being rocked 
gently by Scully, in shocked sympathy. Aldara felt a deep pang of 
guilt twist her belly, as she turned in Jourdain's grasp to look 
down at the injured mage with tear-filled green eyes.
     As though divining her thoughts, Jourdain's deep voice 
whispered in her ear, "It wasn't your fault. There was nothing you 
could have done for him, even if you had known what was 
happening."
     "I know," Aldara replied in a barely audible voice, 
"but..." But she had let her fear and hatred of the mage-talent 
blind her to an innocent man's pain. How could she have been 
coward enough to even consider abandoning him? The depth of 
her shame made her body stiffen in Jourdain's grasp.
     Misinterpreting her response, Jourdain abruptly released 
her, chiding himself for being so forward with one of his sub-
officers, especially one who was also a beautiful woman. He was 
a middle-aged soldier who had already buried one wife. What 
could a woman of such strength and grace see in an oaf like him? 
He was a fool to even be thinking about her that way.  Pushing 
his way past her, he kneeled down in the mud beside Reinald.
      Aware only of the man laying senseless in her arms, 
Scully was close to panicking. "Snap out of it, Mulder!" she 
yelled at him, hoping to force a response, but he lay still and 
silent in her lap. Smoothing the wet bangs back off his forehead, 
she checked his pulse, relieved to feel it racing under her 
fingertips. Then she pulled back an eyelid, only to find his pupil 
dilated and unresponsive. "Dammit, Mulder, answer me," she 
cried, clutching him against her as her mind searched for a way to 
help him. A fierce hatred for the Realm and its total lack of 
modern medical facilities flowed through her. Herbs may be good 
for healing a fever, or psychic influence good for knitting a bone, 
but those were no consolation now. Blinded by a flood of tears, 
she brushed at her offending eyes with the back of her arm, 
smearing streaks of brown sludge across her face.
     A strong hand took hold of her arm, and she shoved it 
away without looking up.
     "Scully," a deep-throated male voice insisted. "Let us 
help." Scully glared up at Jourdain, biting off the angry words 
when she saw the very real concern in his eyes.
     "We need to get him somewhere warm" she said, 
forcing the words out through a veil of grief and fury. "Better 
send someone for Corvay."
     "I'll go!" Aldara offered, turning on her heels and racing 
for the castle even as she spoke. Finding the elven healer was 
something she could do and while it was not much in the way of 
making amends for her uncharitable - and cowardly - thoughts, it 
was at least a start.
     Scully didn't want to let go of Mulder, even for the few 
minutes it would take to carry him into the castle, but she knew 
they had to get him out of the cold mud and into a warm bed, 
especially if he was in shock. Reluctantly releasing her partner 
into the two men's hands, she struggled to her feet. Jourdain 
slipped his hands under Mulder's shoulders and lifted him up into 
his arms, even as Reinald cast a simple levitation spell. Together, 
Scully, Reinald and Jourdain guided the floating body across the 
grounds and into the castle.
                         - - - - -

     Corvay and Aldara caught up with them as they entered 
Mulder and Scully's bedroom. Heedless of the effect of the mud 
on the satin coverlet, Reinald and Jourdain slowly lowered 
Mulder onto the bed. Yanking out the platform with a muttered 
curse as it stuck for a brief second then finally came loose, Scully 
clambered up onto the bed, squatting down beside Mulder.
     Corvay was only seconds behind her. Sitting down next 
to her, he reached out to touch the unconscious man's forehead. 
Closing his eyes, the Healer tried to push through the curtain of 
darkness to reach Mulder's mind, but he was thwarted again and 
again. Each time he began to make contact, he was forced out by 
a dark web of fibers which stung at his mind. Finally Corvay 
pulled back, grimacing. "I can't get through," he said, his voice 
tight with frustration and sadness. "It's like there's something in 
there blocking me. Every time I get close, I'm pushed out. I'm not 
sure if it's him, or something else."
     "What do you mean you can't get in? You HAVE to!" 
Scully cried, her eyes flashing fire as she glared at Corvay.
     "I'm blocked out," Corvay repeated, eyeing her with 
saddened empathy. "Unless he can find his own way out, I'm not 
sure there's anything we can do."
     "There may not be anything WE can do," Reinald 
interjected from the foot of the bed. "But I think there's 
something YOU can do, Scully."
     She spun around to face the white-haired mage, hope 
warring with panic. "What?" she demanded.
     "You may be able to reach him in a way no one else can. 
Through the life-bond."
     "The what?" she questioned hurriedly, wishing he'd stop 
wasting precious time with his magical mumbo-jumbo. "Just tell 
me what to DO!"
     Reinald sighed. Why did it not surprise him that Mulder 
had not told Scully about the life-bond? "Just reach out to him 
with your mind. Focus on your feelings for him, how much you 
love him, need him. Demand that he respond to you."
     It certainly wasn't hard to focus on her feelings for the 
usually frustrating, always challenging man she'd come to respect 
and trust more than any other living human being. A small voice 
inside her whispered 'respect?' 'Trust?' Isn't 'Love' closer to the 
truth? She shut it down fiercely, reaching out to take Mulder's 
hand between both of hers.
     Closing her eyes, she tried to remember everything 
Corvay had taught her about contacting the minds of their 
patients. Taking a series of deep breaths, she struggled to find her 
center, her need to help Mulder warring with the almost 
overwhelming tide of emotions raging through her. Finally 
forcing herself into an unsteady sense of calm, she decided it 
would have to be enough. Using a part of her mind she still did 
not understand, she stretched out her awareness, sending a 
stream of herself up through her hands, through the contact of 
her skin with Mulder's, up and up, towards the center of his 
awareness.
     A sharp gasp of pain whistled through her tightly 
clamped lips as she hit a heavy black barrier. Each probe at it sent 
a series of painful shocks rippling back down the connection, 
making her body shudder. But she had no intention of giving up. 
Gathering up her strength, she pulled back, drew and held a 
lungful of air, and pushed with all her might. Not realizing she 
screamed it aloud, she heard her inner voice cry out his name as 
she finally shattered the barrier and fused her mind with his.
     Suddenly, she was caught up in a whirlwind of 
nightmarish sights and sounds. Fire burned at her/his senses, 
causing her/him to cry out in pain. Creatures more terrifying than 
their worst nightmare crowded in on them, tearing at them, 
ripping their flesh apart. A stench so horrible it made their 
stomachs convulse filled their nostrils, a whining screech like a 
thousand nails scraping a blackboard assaulted their ears. Their 
minds connected into one entity, he/she plummeted through a 
vortex of gale-force winds, tumbling down into deep black 
nothingness. 
     "Nnnooo!" she/he screamed. "Mulder/Dana!" his/her 
voice cried out. "Here...here...here," came the echo in response, 
each asking and replying in the same instant. 
"Lost...dying...no...fight..." each thought was bounced back and 
forth between the two halves of the whole, one's thoughts 
becoming the other's thoughts in the very moment the ideas were 
formed. Finally, moving in total unison, the joint consciousness 
struggled to find its way out of the darkness, each person's 
determination feeding off the other's until only one thought 
dominated the mind: to find the light again. It seemed to take an 
eternity, the darkness pressing in on them, shoving them down 
into the mouth of a monster, taking back an inch for every two 
gained. But finally, in one last desperate thrust, they burst back 
out through the dark curtain and into the light of day.
     Their minds twining around each other for a final 
precious moment, they shattered apart. As an edge of light 
filtered through screwed tight eyelids, Scully gulped for breath, 
feeling her lungs ache in protest. Below her, Mulder let out a 
choking gasp, his body jerking like it had been hit with an electric 
shock. Corvay caught the exhausted woman just as she began to 
wobble, and ever so gently placed her down by Mulder's side. 
Together, hands still clasped tightly together, they slipped into a 
deep and peaceful sleep.
                         - - - - - 

     Reinald stirred in the chair, and forced himself to take 
another swallow of the lukewarm tea. Jourdain was stretched out 
in the other chair, staring deep into the fire, his craggy features 
set and cold. The weary magician stretched and stood up to take 
another glance at the man and woman still sound asleep on the 
bed. No change, which was perhaps for the best. They would 
have all too much to face the next morning. At least Reinald had 
finally been able to dispel the remainder of the Destroyer's 
enchantment which had buried its way into Mulder's mind along 
with Bradnor's dying soul. Once that tangled skein of evil had 
been cleared away, Corvay had been able to reach into both 
Mulder and Scully's minds, settling them into a healthy healing 
trance. Hopefully, they would awaken in a few hours, minds 
recovered, at least partially, from the battle they had just barely 
won.
     "Do you think that this is wise?" Jourdain's throaty 
whisper startled Reinald, causing a few drops of tea to spill out 
onto his wrist as his hand jolted abruptly.
     Reinald turned and went back to his chair, placing the 
cup on the table and rubbing the splattered liquid into his already 
dirt-stained robe. "No, it probably isn't wise. But I don't think we 
have any choice. The Time is upon us, my old friend, and like it 
or not, the prophecy will out."
     "How do you know you won't be sending them to an 
early grave?" Jourdain countered, always skeptical of religious 
mutterings, even one as ancient - and increasingly fulfilled - as the 
old prophecy. "They can hardly help us save the Realm if they get 
killed by a couple lousy Destroyers."
     "I know." Reinald closed his eyes in anguish. "I'd Gate 
there myself, but I've never been to Wide River and we don't 
have a living mage on the other end to help create the Gate. I just 
can't afford to leave the Prince for the amount of time it will take 
to ride there by horseback. Besides, it's not much safer for 
Mulder and Scully here, and they need the chance to use their 
skills, or the training is meaningless. Bottom line - the people out 
there need help. Now."
     Jourdain nodded, he couldn't argue with that. But it still 
felt like they were sending a pair of children into battle. For all of 
the foreign couple's strengths, they seemed almost innately 
innocent at times. Perhaps that was just a factor of their 
unfamiliarity with this world, but he couldn't help being bothered 
by it. Nonetheless, Reinald had a point. The way things were 
going, there soon wouldn't be a safe place for anyone.
     Though most people would have been unable to see 
anything other than the carefully-schooled calm on the soldier's 
rugged features, Reinald knew his friend well enough to read the 
conflict in his eyes. "They may actually be safer out there than 
here in the castle," he added, hoping to further convince the 
doubtful Captain to accept this decision. "There's something 
wrong here. I can't bring it into focus, but I have a sense of 
something about to happen here, something evil focused on 
Mulder and Scully. We both know that rumors are flying around 
the council about those two and the prophecy. Everyone is 
terrified and uncertain  - fertile ground for our enemies to strike 
from within. I'm afraid there may be an attempt on their lives."
     "Gods' blood!" Jourdain swore vividly, rising to his feet 
in a surprisingly graceful motion for a man of his large size. "I 
wish that surprised me more than it does." He shook his head in 
disgust as he walked over to peer down at the sleeping couple. 
He stood in silence for a moment, watching them intently, his 
mind in turmoil. But despite his misgivings, the truth of the 
mage's words was clear. With a sinking feeling in his heart, 
Jourdain turned back towards the seated mage, his face drawn, 
but resigned. 
     "All right. We leave at dawn."
                         
                   -----------------


     Mulder watched Scully as she tightened the girth in her 
saddle. She was dressed in a green leather tunic and brown 
leggings, her small feet encased in knee-high leather boots of the 
same forest green as her tunic. Her hair, which had grown a few 
inches over the past several weeks was braided and coiled into a 
fiery knot on the crown of her head. Her sword hung down the 
length of her back, its strap stretched tight between her breasts. 
She looked calm and confident, almost as though she were 
preparing to investigate a crime back home. Trade the tunic for a 
dark blue suitcoat, the sword for a gun, and she could have been 
back in the office.
     The problem was that they weren't at home. Heaven 
only knew what would be facing them at the end of the long two-
day ride to the East. From what little Mulder remembered from 
his mind-link with Bradnor, this could be far worse than anything 
they had faced before. He wished there was a way to keep her 
from going, but he also knew better than to even suggest the idea 
to her. She'd be furious, and selfish though it seemed to him, he 
needed her - wanted her - by his side. Quite simply, there was no 
one in this, or any universe, whom he trusted to watch his back 
the way he trusted Scully.
     "Almost ready, Scully?" he forced himself to ask calmly, 
as though they were about to take a walk in the park.
     At the sound of his voice, she turned to look up at him. 
He was dressed in a dark brown version of the ever-present tunic, 
over a white shirt, black leggings, and black leather boots. His 
sword was dangling precipitously from his left hand, its leather 
guard scraping the dusty floor. His eyes were bright with 
excitement, and a very familiar concern. She knew full well he 
was worried about bringing her into this, but was grateful he had 
enough respect for her to leave it unspoken.
     "Yes," she answered. "Just need to finish packing my 
saddlebags. Better not let Aldara catch you treating that with 
such disrespect," she pointed at the wayward weapon. 
     Mulder sighed and nodded, lifting it up to slide the strap 
over his shoulder. "It feels funny on my back, I can't help thinking 
that I'm going to stab myself in the butt." Scully laughed, 
reaching out to readjust the strap against his chest. 
     "It won't if you wear it in the right position," she chided 
with a grin.
                         - - - - -

     Partially hidden by the supply horse he was loading on 
the other side of the barn, Grejor watched them with a sullen, 
bitter expression. His angry eyes focused on Scully's smiling face, 
he piled one too many bag on top of the horse, and the small 
bundle toppled off the other side of the restless animal. With an 
exaggerated sigh, the unhappy apprentice walked around the 
horse to pick it, only to find Drellor handing it out to him with a 
friendly smile.
     "Hello Mage-Apprentice Grejor," the roly-poly 
councilor said, "You must be sorry to see them go. I'm sure you 
learned a lot from the foreign mage."   
     "Yeah, sure," Grejor replied unconvincingly, grabbing 
the bundle from Drellor and turning to try again to load it on the 
horse's back.
     "Well, at least you'll be able to get back to your studies. 
You must be close to earning your Mage's blue by now." Grejor 
chatted easily, his eyes carefully reading every nuance of the 
young man's expression.
     "Sure, soon enough." Grejor's voice was shakily 
optimistic, but the set line of his mouth belied the relaxed tone. 
"Reinald has just been a little busy lately."
     "Why, of course!" Drellor responded as though he had 
just made an important discovery. "What with the sudden visit by 
his foreign friends, and his responsibilities as Regent, he must be 
quite busy." He shook his head, the rolls of fat under his chin 
wiggling. "It must be hard for you to compete with the young 
Prince for Reinald's time. It's too bad for you, though. You'd 
think he'd plan more carefully to give you the time you need. It is 
his responsibility."
     Grejor peered at Drellor suspiciously, but was met only 
with warm concern. Suddenly all the resentment and jealousy that 
had been slowly building in him burst out. He poured it all out, 
how Reinald had completely forgotten him in favor of Mulder, 
relegating Grejor to fetching and carrying. How Mulder and 
Scully were 'together' yet he was expected to spend his life alone 
studying. How his chance at earning the mage's blue had been 
postponed, perhaps by months, while Reinald trained a fool like 
Mulder who hadn't even known how to build his own shield; how 
Reinald would spend hours with the Prince, but had no time for 
his own apprentice; how...
     Throughout the young man's tirade, Drellor kept 
bobbing his head in sympathy, murmuring his understanding. The 
only evidence of his delight was the sparkle in small round eyes. 
Behind the paternal exterior, his clever mind was racing, 
examining every possible use of this situation. If he played his 
cards just right, the resentful student-mage could prove to be 
very useful to his plans. Very useful, indeed.
                         - - - - -

     Finally packed and as fully prepared as they felt they 
would ever be, Mulder and Scully led their horses out of the barn 
to join Jourdain, Aldara and the remainder of the small company. 
Grejor led the two pack horses after them, surrendering the 
burdened animals over to one of the heavily-armed soldiers. 
Tarnor was already astride his smaller pony, its long white tail 
and mane waving in the breeze. Mulder winced slightly at the 
sight of his welcoming grin. As much as he liked and trusted the 
little gargoyle, those sharp, jagged teeth caused an instinctive 
recoil from the taller human. 
     "Ready to go?" Jourdain walked over beside them, 
giving them a quick once over. They appeared to be prepared, 
though Mulder's sword was still a bit cockeyed, and Scully 
looked tiny and frail next to large horse. But their faces were 
calm and serious, their stances tense and controlled.   
     "Yes," Mulder and Scully both nodded.
     "Good." Jourdain replied, angling around to give his 
soldiers a quick hand signal indicating they should mount their 
horses. Then he looked back at the two foreigners. "Aldara will 
be leading," he instructed. "She knows the area better than 
anyone. I'll be in the rear. Scully, you stay close to Aldara, and 
Mulder, you'd better stay in the middle with Tarnor. It's nearly a 
full days ride  to Horse's Run Inn. We'll stop briefly at noon to 
eat, spend the night at the Inn, then it should be close to another 
day's ride to Wide River." Jourdain gave them one more look-
over, then grimaced. No use putting this off any longer. 
     "Let's go." He returned to his horse, taking the reins 
from Aldara, then leaped into the saddle in one fluid, practiced 
motion. Mulder gave Scully a hand up into her saddle, then 
started to clamber up into his. 
     "Wait, Mulder!" Reinald came running up behind them, 
his long blue robe flying out behind him, white hair nearly 
standing on end.
     "I was beginning to think you weren't going to come see 
us off," Mulder said with a teasing lilt in his voice.
     Reinald smiled as he came up beside the tall dark man. 
"I almost forgot something important," he replied holding out a 
large dark-blue bundle of cloth to Mulder. "You better wear 
this."
     "What is it?" Mulder questioned, taking the woolen 
garment and spreading it out over his arms.
     "A mage-robe like mine. Actually, you should have been 
wearing one already, but since you were in training, and everyone 
in the castle knew you were a foreigner, I thought you could 
manage without one. However, beyond the Fairwood grounds 
you should wear this at all times. It is both a symbol and a 
warning, a mark of both authority and responsibility. The white 
lining signifies your allegiance to the light, the depth of the blue 
the strength of your power." Reinald sighed unhappily. 
"Normally, the robe is conferred with an elaborate ceremony. I 
do not like having to just hand it to you like this, but we do not 
have the time to spare."
     "That's okay," Mulder replied, shrugging his shoulders. 
The cloak felt warm and soft against the skin of hands. "I never 
cared much for ceremonies." He grinned, his eyes twinkling. "It'll 
make a great blanket if we get stuck on the road."
     "Mulder!" Reinald protested, then shook his head. No 
use arguing with his prot�g�'s irreverent humor. He knew just 
how serious Mulder could be when he felt the situation warranted 
it, so let him enjoy himself now. There were likely to be few 
reasons for mirth in the upcoming days. 
     Several of the other observers weren't quite so 
accepting, their expression ranging from Aldara's look of surprise 
to Grejor's sullen resentment. Scully just sighed, Mulder had a 
gift for being annoyingly disrespectful of protocol, no matter 
where or when.
     "Put it on, Mulder. We need to get going," Scully urged, 
impatient to get on the road, already dreading the long ride 
ahead.
     "Okay." Mulder yanked the sword off his shoulders, 
handing it out to Reinald. He arranged the cloak over his 
shoulders, then fumbled for a way to fasten it. 
     "Here," Reinald said, giving Mulder back his weapon 
and reaching up to find a small button on the inside of the collar. 
After Reinald had finished adjusting the cloak, Mulder put the 
sword back on over, with a silent grimace for Scully, then turned 
to contemplate getting on the horse, cloak, sword and all. "This 
looks so much easier in the movies," he grumbled. 
     The only one who could make sense of the reference, 
Scully laughed. "You're the magician. Levitate yourself."
     Mulder flashed her a brilliant smile, as he accepted the 
light challenge in her voice. "All right." Closing his eyes, he 
concentrated for a moment, his brow crinkling into a familiar set 
of lines. Ever so slowly, he rose up into the air, then turned 
sideways and settled himself smoothly down into the saddle. He 
would have completed the levitation perfectly, if he hadn't 
misjudged the reaction of the horse to having someone float in 
the air above it. Snorting, it pulled to the side just enough to have 
Mulder hit its back at angle, sliding off to his left. Yelling his 
annoyance, Mulder grabbed for the horse's mane and only barely 
kept himself from tumbling to the ground.  The horse reared up, 
then down, as its would-be rider clung on for dear life. Finally 
managing to pull himself into an upright position, Mulder glared 
at Scully, as everyone else tried to stifle their laughter.
     "Good try, Mulder," she said, unable to keep the 
amusement out of her voice. 
     "Yeah right. Next time I'll levitate you!" he threatened, 
still trying to adjust himself into a comfortable position. 
     "No thanks" she replied with a sweet smile, nudging her 
horse forward to pull up beside Aldara. Mulder playfully stuck 
out his tongue at her back, then couldn't help relaxing into a grin 
and joining in the general amusement, even if it was at his 
expense.
     As Jourdain gave the signal to go, Reinald grabbed onto 
Mulder's leg. Mulder leaned down to hear the mage's whispered 
words. "I'm sorry we don't have more time to prepare you for 
this. Remember to center and watch your shield." Reinald's blue 
eyes clouded with worry. "And be careful!"
     Mulder's eyes darkened as he nodded. "I will."
                         - - - - -

     It was a perfect day for a ride, Scully had to admit as 
she guided her horse in an easy trot beside Aldara. Only a few 
whisps of white cotton floated in a perfect blue sky. The air was 
warm with a slight cooling breeze, and the road was lined with 
the vivid colors of the forest: the green and brown of the trees 
and the bright rainbow colors of the flowers. She drew in a deep 
breath of clear, untainted air and smiled with pleasure.
     Aldara caught her companion's smile and returned it 
briefly. Then her face settled into a frown.
     "What is it?" Scully asked concerned. Aldara considered 
for a moment, then angled her head back toward Mulder who 
was chatting easily with Tarnor and one of the soldiers, the velvet 
warmth of his laugh echoing in the air. "I don't understand him. 
He doesn't act like a Mage, he doesn't act like anyone I've ever 
met." Her emerald eyes were wide with confusion. Scully 
couldn't help laughing, which only increased Aldara's perplexity.
     "I'm sorry, Aldara," Scully said. "It's just that Mulder..." 
she turned her head to glance back at her partner. "Mulder never 
acts like anyone else. He's utterly and completely unique. I know 
him better than anyone, and he still manages to surprise me." 
     The taciturn half-elf considered that for moment, then 
grinned at her friend. "That must make for an interesting life."
     "Yeah," Scully responded, "Sometimes a little too 
interesting." They shared a look of total understanding, then 
focused back on the road ahead, riding comfortably side-by-side.
                         - - - - -
     
     By the time they rode into the Inn courtyard, everyone 
was exhausted, dusty and hungry. Mulder and Scully were both 
uncomfortably aware that a couple of hours a day of riding 
practice had not fully prepared them for the rigors of spending an 
entire day in the saddle. Scully's back and legs ached intensely, 
every position she'd tried in the last couple of hours as painful as 
the others. Mulder was equally sore, the muscles in his thighs 
complaining fiercely. He was dreading trying to get down and 
walk. Aldara caught both their looks of discomfort and shared an 
amused glance with Jourdain. Good thing she'd brought some 
lotion with her, those two were going to need it.
     The clatter of the horse's hooves on the gravel brought a 
couple of young boys, both with shoulder-length blond hair, 
brown eyes, and elven pointed ears. Excited, they ran forward to 
take the reins from Aldara and Scully, leading the horses into the 
nearby stable. Mulder gratefully handed over his horse to the 
young soldier he'd been talking with on their ride and wandered 
over to the women, grunting as he rubbed at his sore back. 
     Jourdain let his four men take the rest of the horses into 
the barn and headed for the inn. He was met at the doorway by 
the innkeeper, a larger version of the boys: short but well-
muscled. The older elf was dressed in a bright mix of colors, 
bright red pants under a red, green, blue, and yellow vest and a 
white shirt. Around his belly he wore a big leather belt with a 
large set of keys and two big pouches hanging down his side. 
Forced to peer up at the much taller Jourdain, the elf eyed him 
with a mixture of greed and suspicion. Soldiers and mercenaries 
were good-spenders, but they also tended to be trouble. 
     "What can we do for you this fine evening?" the 
innkeeper asked politely.
     "We'll need food, and rooms for the night. And fodder 
for the horses." Jourdain thought for a  moment. The four guards 
could bunk together, as would Mulder and Scully. He and Tarnor 
could share a room, which left Aldara ... well, better make that 
four rooms total. "Four rooms. And baths for the ladies."
     The innkeeper's eyes widened slightly as he did some 
rapid math in his head. "Twelve silvers, and six iron pieces," he 
said, his eyes glinting with avarice. 
     Jourdain frowned, bargaining was not one of his favorite 
past-times, but even he knew that he was being royally over-
charged. "Six silvers and three iron pieces," he replied, deciding 
to begin by slicing the price in half.
     The innkeeper puffed up angrily. "You insult me, sir! 
Why one of our rooms is worth more than that per night. And 
this is a busy time of the year. I was giving you a good deal, 
because things are quiet right now. And you repay my courtesy 
by trying to cheat me! No, I will not take one less than ten silvers 
and five irons."
     Jourdain shook his head. "Eight silvers and four irons. 
Not a bit more."
     "You are nothing but a highway robber!" responded the 
innkeeper. "How am I supposed to feed my family when you 
cheat me like this. My poor children..." The innkeeper went off in 
a tirade, hands flying a series of elaborate gestures, while an 
annoyed Jourdain stood impatiently, tapping his right foot against 
the step.
     Across the lawn, Aldara couldn't help giggling at the 
irritated frown on the Captain's face. "What's going on?" Scully 
asked, rubbing her hands through her hair, pasting it back into a 
semblance of the neat braid she had started out with that 
morning.
     "Jourdain hates to bargain." Aldara shook her head, the 
cloud of black hair framing her face waving down her back with 
the motion. "Guess someone better go help. He'll either give in 
and pay too much, or lose his temper and hit the innkeeper."
     "That wouldn't be good," Scully replied wearily. "Right 
now, though, I'd give about anything for a bath."
     Mulder nodded. "Yeah, me too. There ought to be a 
way to speed this up." He glanced back towards the inn, his head 
tilting slightly to the side. 
     'Uh oh.,' Sculy thought, as Mulder glanced at her with a 
familiar glint in his hazel eyes. Brushing more of the dust off his 
robe, he headed purposefully towards the men arguing in front of 
the inn doors.
     Thinking he was just following her suggestion, Aldara 
stepped in behind him, turning her head in surprise as Scully 
caught her elbow. "What?"
     "I don't know," the red-haired woman grimaced and 
gestured towards the man striding across the yard. "He's up to 
something. I know that look in his eyes."
     "Up to what?" Aldara asked with concern. Scully 
shrugged. "Just be prepared."
     Jourdain was about ready to punch the innkeeper, when 
an imperious voice sounded from the bottom of the steps.
     "Is there a problem, Captain?" Jourdain turned, his eyes 
dilating with astonishment. Standing at the foot of the steps, 
Mulder was looking up at them, his face calm and expectant. 
Despite the dust of travel, and the inevitably-crooked sword, he 
appeared every inch the powerful Mage. His eyes were dark and 
hooded, his finely-drawn features carved in stone. The dark blue 
of his mage-robe seemed to shimmer in the evening air.  Sliding 
up the stairs as though his feet were almost floating, he paused 
beside Jourdain and looked down at the innkeeper. "I assume you 
have rooms available for my friends and myself."
     "Uhh, yes..." The innkeeper stammered, his already pale 
skin turning white. "We were just deciding on the price, 
honorable Magician."
     Jourdain held his smile, saying calmly, "I believe we 
were just settling on six silvers and five irons as a fair price." The 
trembling elf automatically opened his mouth to argue, then shut 
it when he saw blue sparks fly from the tall mage's fingers as he 
absentmindedly brushed his hand though his dark hair.
     "Yes, yes, six and five it is. Come, come," the small elf 
confirmed, backing away nervously towards the door. Throwing 
one more unhappy glance over his shoulder at Mulder, who gave 
him another commanding stare, he hurried inside, calling out a 
rapid series of instructions.
     Still outside, Mulder and Jourdain exchanged looks of 
amusement. "Thank you," Jourdain said as he reached for the 
door. "Elves have refined the process of bargaining to a fine art, 
and not even they can compete with innkeepers. Combine the 
two and...well, normally you end up wasting a good candlemark 
or two arguing price, and if you give in too soon, they get huffy 
and annoyed." Waving Mulder into the inn ahead of him, 
Jourdain added. "Maybe I should bring a Mage along more 
often."
     Mulder grinned, then reassuming his professional 
composure, he swept into the inn's darkened interior. Jourdain 
held the door for Scully and Aldara, who had both been listening 
to the conversation with increasing enjoyment, then followed 
them inside.
     The inn's central room reminded Mulder and Scully of 
an old-fashioned bar. One wall was lined by a long, low counter 
with rows of bottles on shelves behind it. Wooden, circular tables 
were spotted throughout the room. Some were set low to the 
floors, others were elevated with large wooden stools. In the 
corner a large stone fireplace provided most of the light, with 
small streams of the fading sunlight brushing the gloom below a 
few small windows.
     A tiny, but matronly elf wearing a bright yellow dress 
and striped red and green apron burst out from behind the 
counter. "Come in, come in," she urged in a friendly, high-pitched 
voice. Her eyes widened as she stared up at Mulder who towered 
over her in his still-glowing blue robe. She sank into a deep bow, 
then smiled hesitantly. "This way Sir Magician, this way. We 
have the best room in the house for you, just up the stairs. It has 
a nice window, and  plenty of space. My boys will unload your 
horses and bring your things upstairs, while you rest from your 
long journey. Yina, my daughter, is already heating water for 
your bath." She bobbed her head again, glancing up at him with 
wide brown eyes. "Please, follow me."
     Exhausted, Mulder was more than willing to take her up 
on the offer. He held back long enough to let Scully and Aldara 
proceed him, then followed the women up the stairs. Their 
hostess was more than a little surprised when it became obvious 
that the small red-haired soldier was rooming with the mage, 
while the other two guards were taking other rooms. Mulder 
avoided her questions by giving her an intense stare. One look at 
his set, determined face, and she backed off, her hand crumpling 
the corner of her apron in distress. Making a magician unhappy 
could have dire consequences.
     Once the door was closed, Mulder crossed the room and 
settled down on the bed with a sigh. "God, Scully, what I 
wouldn't give for a car right now. Anything, even an ancient rusty 
Oldsmobile, just as long as it ran on wheels and not four legs."
     Scully flopped down on the bed next to him, rubbing at 
the small of her back. "Yeah, me too. FBI training didn't include 
spending ten hours straight on top of a horse. Wake me in about 
a week."
     Mulder grinned and leaned over, propping his head on 
one hand. "Sure. That means I get the first bath."
     Scully's eyes popped wide open. "Oh no it doesn't." 
Groaning slightly, she forced herself into a sitting position. 
"Ladies first!" He opened his mouth, about to give her the nearly 
irresistible reply, but one look at her pale, drawn face convinced 
him that silence was the better part of valor. He settled for 
leaning back in the bed, closing his eyes, and dreaming about a 
nice, shiny Ford truck with air-conditioning and four wheel drive.
                         - - - - -

                         
                   -----------------

     
     After a short nap and a bath, everyone was feeling 
better. Dinner was surprisingly good, a hearty stew with sweet 
brown bread and a thick foamy ale. Jourdain, Aldara, Scully and 
Mulder were sitting at one round table, the four guards seated 
around a neighboring one. Tarnor had accepted a platter of raw 
meat and bread from one of the waitresses and retired upstairs. 
Thinking that she would very soon follow the gargoyle's example, 
Scully sipped at the ale gingerly, while Mulder eyed it 
appreciatively, then chugged down half the contents of his mug. 
     "Better watch it, Mulder," Scully said, her lips curving 
up as she watched him lick at the foam on his upper lip. 
"Tomorrow is going to bad enough without a hangover."
     "One glass of beer is hardly going to make me drunk," 
he protested with a grin. 
     "How do know it's 'beer?'" Scully asked. "We have no 
idea what the alcohol content it, or even whether it is alcoholic."
     
     "No, it's got alcohol, or something nearly as good." 
Mulder smiled as the warmth spread outward from his stomach, 
easing some of the remaining pain in his lower back. Aldara's 
magic lotion had been a godsend, but nothing beat a cold glass of 
beer.
     "Obviously," Scully replied, arching an eyebrow at him 
in censure, though her blue eyes twinkled.
     "Still," Jourdain interrupted between mouthfuls. "Better 
take it easy on that stuff. We ride at dawn, and I expect you two 
to be ready to go on time." Mulder and Scully both grimaced, but 
nodded. Even over a relaxing dinner, it was not easy to forget the 
seriousness of their mission.
     "When do you think we'll get to Wide River?" Mulder 
asked Aldara, breaking off another piece of bread.
     "If we get on the road at sunrise," she replied. "We 
should get there by mid afternoon if all goes well." They sat in 
silence for a moment, each considering what the might have to 
face the next day.
     At a table closer to the door a small group of traveling 
mercenaries were busily getting drunk. All five men were dressed 
in dirty green wool and leather outfits, swords slung over their 
shoulder or propped against their stools. Several had knives 
through their black rawhide belts. All had long hair, bound back 
into tight ponytails on the tops of their heads, and several sported 
jagged scars across their faces, arms, and necks. As the waitress 
passed by, one of the men, with a white-lined scar across his right 
cheek, grabbed her, pulling her down into his lap.
     "Let me go," she cried angrily, jabbing him in the 
stomach with her elbow and leaping away nimbly. He gasped for 
breath as his compatriots roared with laughter, jeering at him. 
Once he had recovered his breath, he sat for a few minutes, 
eyeing the pretty blond elf in her yellow and brown dress as she 
wended her way over to Mulder and Scully's table with a pitcher 
of ale. A few more drinks down his throat combined with some 
rude comments from the other men, and he was at a fever pitch 
of anger and desire.
     The next time she passed by, he leapt up to seize her 
from behind, pulling both her wrists behind her and shoving her 
face down on the table. Immediately, his friends started banging 
their ale glasses on the table, cheering him on with raucous 
laughter. She screamed and wiggled, trying to kick him, but he 
was twice as big as she was. Her scream died out into a muffled 
moan of disgust as he yanked her head back by her long hair, 
kissing her hard as he rubbed his body over hers.
     "Take your hands off her," the innkeeper raced over to 
his daughter's defense. "Back off," the scarred mercenary 
growled, knocking the elf down with one hard punch. One of the 
other men yelled out, "Hey Vidar, hurry up. My turn next."
     That was the final straw as far as Mulder was 
concerned. Unwilling to leave things to Jourdain and his men, 
who had already started across the room, Mulder pushed his way 
past them and seized the would-be rapist by the arm, yanking him 
backwards. The big mercenary responding by tossing the girl 
towards one of his friends, who caught and held her struggling 
body gleefully. Then he pulled his arm out of Mulder's grasp and 
swung at him. Mulder was faster though, ducking underneath, 
then spinning to kick the large man in the gut. He staggered 
against the table, then with a berserk roar of anger, threw himself 
onto his taller, but far more slender, adversary.
     As Mulder and the enraged mercenary fought, Jourdain 
pulled the screaming waitress away from the man pawing her, 
and pushed her away. She ran crying for the kitchen. Robbed of 
his prey, the second mercenary jumped on Jourdain, and 
pandemonium broke loose. Aldara and Scully managed to get the 
innkeeper out of the way, before leaping into the fight 
themselves. Aldara nearly took one mercenary's head off with her 
sword before catching herself and rendering him unconscious 
with the heavy hilt, while Scully jumped on another's back, 
clawing at his eyes. He bellowed and spun, finally throwing his 
smaller attacker up into the air. Twisting as she flew, she 
managed to bring her feet underneath her to land in a crouch on 
top of a table. Her red-hair flying around her face, her blue eyes 
were blazing as she pulled a knife out of her boot and brandished 
it at the mercenary who approached her with a growing smile on 
his rough face.
     "Now, now, pretty wrench. How about you put down 
the knife so we can have us some fun!" he urged, reaching out 
towards her. Scully simply stared at him, waiting until he got just 
close enough, then she struck. "Oowww!" he cried as she sliced 
his cheek with the knife, then leapt out of the way of his hand. 
With dawning respect, he faced her, pulling out a knife of his 
own.
     Behind them, Mulder was still rolling on the floor, 
struggling with his bulkier opponent. The two men hit at each 
other's vulnerable areas with knees and gouging hands. Finally 
delivering a punch into the mercenary's throat that knocked him 
briefly senseless, Mulder was finally able to scramble to his feet. 
One quick glance around at the war being fought across the room 
convinced him that he'd better stop this before someone got 
killed. While it was still more instinctive to react physically than 
magically, Mulder hadn't been studying for so long without 
learning a few useful spells.
     Centering and grounding almost by rote, he tuned down 
his shield and began to focus on creating a spell that would freeze 
the combatants in place, stopping any further violence in its 
tracks. However, Mulder was still slow in utilizing his new 
talents, and before he could finish the spell, the mercenary got up 
to his feet and struck Mulder hard in the stomach. The 
inexperienced mage yelled in pain, his unfinished spell exploding 
in a loud thunderclap around him, sending the mercenary spinning 
upwards to float in mid-air, his body enclosed in a deep blue 
cloud.
     Instant frozen silence descended upon the room, as 
Mulder stared upwards in shock at the terrified man writhing 
inside the blue envelope above his head. Quick to take advantage 
of the situation, Jourdain shoved his wide-mouthed adversary 
aside and strode over to Mulder's side. 
     "My gratitude to you, Magician, for your timely 
assistance," he said in a ringing voice. "My deepest apologies for 
subjecting you to this kind of uncouth brawl. If you wish to retire 
at this point,  Mage Mulder, I'm sure my guards and I can take it 
from here. These men have had enough for tonight, isn't that so?" 
He looked pointedly from the one still suspended in mid-air to the 
others. Shaken, they all nodded, suddenly noticing the color of 
Mulder's robe for the first time. One swallowed nervously, 
seemingly shrinking into the floor. Another turned deathly pale 
and fell to his knees to vomit between his legs.
     At a glance from Jourdain, his men grabbed the four still 
earth-bound mercenaries and propelled them up the stairs to their 
room. Scully and Aldara breathed a sigh of relief, checking to see 
if each other was all right, then walked over to stand beside 
Jourdain and Mulder. 
     "Get him down, Mulder. We should probably call it a 
night," Scully suggested wearily, returning the knife to her boot, 
extremely grateful that she'd bothered to wear it as Aldara had 
recommended.
     "I can't," Mulder replied unhappily. Three shocked pairs 
of eyes turned to stare at him.
     "What do you mean, you can't?" Jourdain questioned.
     "I didn't mean to do this. I was just going to blast the 
ceiling with a few fireworks to catch people's attention - stop the 
fighting. But he hit me before I could finish the spell, and it just 
exploded. I don't know what happened and I haven't the faintest 
idea how to reverse it." Mulder shook his head sadly, spreading 
his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "I think it ought to wear 
off in a few hours, but I'm not sure."
     "Mulder! Didn't Reinald teach you how to turn that stuff 
off?" Scully protested.
     "Sure," he replied, "but the method of undoing a spell is 
directly related to the spell itself, and this one got scrambled. 
Trying to undo it the wrong way could just make it worse."
     Scully looked annoyed for a moment, then the corners 
of her mouth uplifted in a smile. Aldara frowned at her, then up 
at the man floating above their heads, and then found herself 
smiling also. "Well, I guess he'll just have to sleep it off," she 
said.
     They all started to laugh.
                         - - - - - 

     Another long day on horseback, this one spent mostly in 
grim silence. The closer they got to their destination, the more 
they dreaded what they were going to find. But not even their 
worst imaginings could have prepared them for the devastation 
that awaited them.
     Aldara led them in single file up the road to Wide River. 
Even before they drew into sight of the town itself, they could 
see smoke wavering up towards the late afternoon sun. The air 
carried a stench that built in their quivering nostrils until it was 
nearly unbearable. It was a combination of rotting flesh, burnt 
meat, and something unidentifiably evil. Mulder rubbed at his 
nose, thinking that even the New Jersey sewers hadn't smelled 
this bad. 
     They came across the first set of bodies - or what 
remained of the bodies - as they turned a curve in the road and 
saw the shattered town gates a short distance ahead. Coming to 
an abrupt halt, Scully slid down off her horse to kneel down 
beside one twitching body. The man's face was a wreck, one arm 
had been torn off, his legs were ripped to shreds. Large bite had 
been taking from his chest and abdomen, and his intestines boiled 
out of his belly, with crawling flies buzzing into the cavity. As 
Scully bent down over him, he twitched again, his mouth opening 
in a silent cry.
     "Oh my God!" she yelled back at the others crowding 
behind her, all color leached out of her face. "He's still alive!"
     A shout from one of the guards indicated that another 
ravaged man was still alive also. Mulder and Jourdain exchanged 
agonized glances, then turned to Scully.
     "Is there anything you can do for them?" Jourdain 
asked.
     "I..." Scully felt tears sting her eyes as she contemplated 
injuries that even a modern hospital would be hard put to deal 
with. She shook her head, even with surgical facilities, antibiotics, 
and a team of doctors, she doubted this man could be saved. The 
sound of the young guard vomiting into the ashy dust of the road 
not far away, confirmed that the other's injuries were probably as 
serious. "I doubt it. I don't have the skills, or the equipment. I 
don't think even Corvay could heal this." 
     At the sound of her voice, the dying man found one last 
bit if strength and reached out to grasp her arm. She recoiled in 
shock, but was already being hit by his pain. Doubling over in 
excruciating agony she screamed and screamed.
     "Scully!" Mulder yelled, leaping to the ground to pull 
her away. Sobbing, she clung to him, burying her head against his 
shoulder. He held her for a long moment, until her shaking 
decreased. Tilting her head up to face him with gentle fingers 
under her chin, he didn't bother speaking, just let his eyes ask for 
him.
     "I'm okay, Mulder. I'm okay." She brushed the strands 
of auburn hair out of her eyes, then glanced back at the man in 
the dirt. "He...he wants me to kill him." Mulder nodded, still 
holding her tight against him. He brushed the top of her head 
with his mouth, then let her go and stood up. 
     "I'll do it," he said grimly, his mouth set in thin line.
     "No!" Scully's eyes were moist but determined. "He 
asked me. I felt his pain, Mulder. I have to release him myself." 
     "Scully," Mulder protested, but her face was darkly 
certain. "Are you sure?" he spoke softly.
     "Yes," she swallowed and met his dark eyes with a 
confidence she didn't feel. "I have to."
     "Okay," he replied accepting her right to make that 
decision. "Jourdain and I will check the others." The big captain 
tapped Mulder on the shoulder in agreement, then walked past 
them towards the gate. As he brushed past Aldara he angled his 
head towards Scully. "Look after her," he whispered. She nodded 
barely perceptibly, and went over to stand by Scully as the 
grieving doctor knelt down, tears now streaming openly down 
her whitened cheeks, and prepared to do the hardest thing she'd 
ever had to do in her life.
     Jourdain and Mulder worked their way closer to the 
smoldering, broken town gates, examining one bloody, fractured 
corpse after another. To their bitter relief, only two others of the 
close to three dozen bodies were still alive. With gritted teeth, 
and fury in their eyes, they each chose a dying man. In silent 
agreement, the two men drew their swords and in one clean 
blow, severed both necks simultaneously.
     Scully used her mind rather than her sword to give the 
dying man the peace he deserved. Carefully, she reached into the 
base of his skull with her mind and severed the nerves one by 
one, so that he would feel no more pain from his body while she 
tightened a mental fist on the blood vessels bringing oxygen to 
the brain. She felt his relief as paralysis ended the agony, and his 
gratitude as he slipped into unconsciousness and death. She felt 
every sensation he did, until he was no longer there, leaving her 
bent sobbing over an empty shell that had once been a human 
being.
     Aldara reached out to hold her friend from behind, 
wrapping thin, strong arms surrounding her. Scully struggled to 
get free, then collapsed into a whirlwind of exhaustion, pain, 
frustration, sadness, and above all, a deep burning rage. Her eyes 
glowed with blue fire as she turned to glare into Aldara's 
sorrowful green eyes, while her voice was cold, clear and steady.
     "Someone is going to pay for this."
                         - - - - - 

     It took the small company nearly three hours to work 
their way methodically through the ravaged village. No structure 
had been left untouched, even stone walls were crushed or 
scorched. Bodies, or pieces of them, lay flung throughout; no 
more were found alive. In the marketplace, broken pieces of 
pottery lay side by side with crushed melons and severed arms, 
legs, and heads. Bread turned stale next to trails of human 
intestines, spilled stew mixed with gargoyle and elven blood. 
     Working in grim silence, they gathered up every human, 
elf, gargoyle and troll remnant they could find, making four gory 
piles in the town center. Once they were certain they'd retrieved 
as much as they could, nine weary and horrified people gathered 
together to share their grief and rage; to give the dead some 
overdue respect.
     Jourdain stumbled through a short prayer, his voice 
rising and falling from an angry cry to a hoarse whisper. Aldara 
reached out to grasp his hand as he came to a stop in mid-
sentence, unable to find the words to continue. She pulled him 
back, then glanced over towards Mulder.
     "Give them a funeral pyre the entire Realm will see and 
remember, Mage," she said, each word clipped and precise.
     Mulder stepped forward, waving the others back. 
Closing his eyes, he began to concentrate, mumbling sing-song 
words under his breath. As his body began to glow a brilliant 
shimmering blue, he raised his hands and pointed. Flashes of 
lightning struck out of a clear blue sky, each striking one of the 
mounds causing them to burst into flames. Blue sparks lanced out 
of Mulder's outstretched fingers, mingling with the white light 
from the sky and the red of the fires. Four rainbow columns rose 
vertically, illuminating the darkening sky. 
     One more shouted command from Mulder's glowing 
form and the flames exploded upwards, forcing the observers to 
shield their eyes. Another series of thunderclap-like explosions 
deafened their ears followed by sudden silence. Scully and the 
others slowly unshielded their eyes to find four perfect blackened 
circles of ground where there the bloody piles of flesh had been - 
and Mulder kneeling between them, his head buried in his arms.
                         - - - - -
     
     Fox Mulder sat on a tree-stump a few feet away from 
the rest of the camp. Since no one had been able to stomach the 
idea of remaining in the village, even though there was no sign of 
the Destroyers, they had led the horses down the river into the 
woods. Walking in silence, they continued past nightfall, 
continued until the stench of Wide River was cleared from the 
air. The camp had been set in a small grove of elms, each member 
of the troop doing his part without uttering a word. Dinner had 
been prepared and forced down, all knowing the sustenance was 
necessary, each nearly choking on every bite. Two of the guards 
were keeping a nervous watch, while the others settled into small 
tents, pretending to sleep. Mulder hadn't even bothered with the 
attempt.  Instead he had slipped off into the night like a shadow. 
     "Mulder?" Scully came up quietly behind him, pressing a 
hand onto his shoulder. He shrugged it away, moving swiftly to 
his feet and taking a couple steps away from her.
     "Mulder!" she said again, a very slight tremble in her 
voice. He was silent for one long moment, but just before she 
started to speak again, he pivoted to face her.
     In the moonlight, his eyes were dark cavities, the 
arching lines of his cheekbone stretched tight and hard, his jaw 
jutted forward. His voice was icy cold. "All this power, Scully." 
Lifting his hand he threw a sphere of blue light up into the air, 
which fragmented into a rain of glittering sparks at a wave of his 
arm. "Yet all I can do are parlor tricks."
     "Mulder, you can do more than parlor tricks. You know 
that!" She fought for the right words, not even certain what it 
was she wanted to say. "You were the one who took this 
seriously. I kept telling myself it wasn't real, that it was a 
daydream that I'd wake up from like it never happened. If things 
had gone my way, we wouldn't even be here. I don't know if we 
can help these people the way the Prophecy says, I only know 
that we have to try." She reached out to touch his arm, 
restraining him as he tried again to pull away.
     "How can such things exist Scully?," he spoke abruptly. 
"I thought I'd looked into the face of evil before: serial killers, 
vampires and werewolves, men who experiment on children... 
But this?" He laughed bitterly. "Yet, I can't help wondering why I 
am surprised. You know what my first thought was, Scully, when 
we walked through those gates? I felt like a WWII American 
soldier walking into a Nazi concentration camp. In an odd sort of 
way, things make more sense here: evil wears its own face. In our 
world evil sometimes wears a pleasant disguise."
     "Evil wears the same face everywhere, Mulder, 
sometimes you just have to look harder to see it. It feels hopeless 
right now, I know. But we've beaten it before, we just have to 
hold onto the belief that we can do so again." She knew she was 
driven more by rage than confidence, but the battle lines had been 
drawn. After what they'd seen that day, there was simply no 
walking away.
     "I wish I could be sure of that," he replied.
     "There are no assurances, but we still have to try." She 
closed the distance between them, and looked up into his 
shadowed eyes. "Together."
     "Scully...Dana..." he brushed the hair back from her 
face, caressing her cheek gently.
     "I'm here" she answered softly, closing her hand over his 
and pressing the palm against her lips. Their eyes met and clung, 
the world around them dissolving as he finally let the mental 
barriers down and drew her in. 
     For a timeless instant they stood together, minds 
entwined, bodies separated by a few inches of cloth and air. 
Then, groaning aloud, he roughly pulled her up against him and 
claimed her mouth in a demanding kiss. Blood pounding through 
her veins, she reached up to twine her arms around his neck. He 
ground his lips into hers, she pressed upwards for more. His 
tongue forced its way into her mouth, she sucked on it, seizing 
hold with her teeth.
     Gasping for breath, he released her mouth, then 
assaulted her face and neck, kissing every inch of skin along her 
forehead, nose, cheekbones, jaw and throat. Twisting in his 
grasp, she returned kiss for kiss, licking the stubbled skin along 
his jaw, nibbling at the velvety skin of his cheek, biting at his lips 
as they brushed over hers.
     Her body was warm and vibrant in his arms, every curve 
an invitation. She sighed low and deep in her throat as he closed 
probing fingers over a breast, a hip, a thigh. Digging one hand 
into the hair on the back of his neck, she drew the other down the 
length of his spine, pressing it into the small of his back. Then 
curving it downwards to hold him still, she rotated her hips to 
grind her pelvis against his, sealing their bodies together.
     "Dana," he murmured her name over and over, in a 
silky, yet raspy voice, edged with desire. The sound of it in her 
ear, his breath hot against her skin, made her heart race even 
faster. Desire flooding her, she began to pull at his clothes, 
frustration mounting as she struggled with the still unfamiliar 
Realm-style fastenings. He moved to help her, dropping the 
mage-robe to the ground, then yanking the tunic off his head to 
cast it aside. 
     The white cotton shirt he was wearing underneath was 
open to his navel, and she pressed her hands and her mouth 
against the bare flesh of his chest, touching and tasting the heated 
smoothness of his skin, rubbing her fingers through the hairs, 
tonguing his nipples until they hardened. He buried his face in the 
hair on the top of her head, deeply breathing in the smell of her, 
his hands working quickly to undo her belt and lift up her tunic. 
She lifted her mouth away from him to let him strip off her tunic 
and shirt in one swift move. Then she reciprocated, yanking his 
shirt out of his pants and over his head.
     He sank downwards until he was on his knees in front of 
her. Grasping her around the waist to pull her smooth abdomen 
up against his chin, he tilted his head upwards to let his eyes 
drink in the glorious sight of her. Her hair was loose, the doubled 
moonlight turning it into a soft red halo that swirled around her 
face. Even in the darkness, her eyes were a luminescent blue, her 
mouth a dream come true - full and red and trembling, her tongue 
teasing at her bottom lip. Her breasts were full and round, the 
tips already hardened by desire and contact with the cool night 
air. Sliding his hands up her back to close around her shoulders, 
he guided her downwards until she was perched on his bent 
knees, her own knees spread wide around his legs.
     In this position, her face was at an even level with his, 
and they savored the taste of each other, drinking in each other's 
mouths, one hungry kiss after another. Finally letting themselves 
free to touch and be touched, they explored every inch of each 
other's bodies with loving hands. Minds linked, each thought -
each feeling - reverberated between them, allowing every desire 
to be satisfied the instant it was formed.
     Mulder pressed Dana down onto the forest floor, 
covering her with the heat of his body. She clutched him against 
her, wrapping her arms and legs tightly around him, as their 
mouths met and melded yet again. 
     "Mmmmph," Scully muttered deep in her throat, 
suddenly pushing him upwards.
     "Dana, what?" he let go of her in surprise, a mix of 
frustration, desire, and sudden fear jolting through him, startling 
her.
     "No, no it's just a branch...in my back...," she flooded 
his mind with love and reassurance almost without conscious 
effort. Relaxing, he propped himself up on one elbow and 
reached beneath her to remove the offending twig while she 
twined her arms around his neck and arched her body up against 
his, leaving a space between her and the ground.
     Once he had tossed the branch aside, he leaned back up 
to a kneeling position, bringing her with him so that she was fully 
wrapped around him, legs around his waist, arms around his 
shoulders. Holding her there for a moment, he paused and closed 
his eyes.
     Nestled against him, Dana felt a shiver go up her spine, 
like a series of static charges. Angling her head to look into his 
face, her question was communicated without a word. His 
answer was equally nonverbal, the thoughts flowing from mind to 
mind like a water rippling in a brook. Understanding what he was 
trying to do, she closed her eyes, feeling the magic energy build 
within him as it flickered across his skin, brushing hers with 
electric tingles. 
     Mulder watched intently as his abandoned mage's cloak 
floated up in the air, spread itself out, then settled to the ground. 
Another rush of power charged though his mind, and hers, while 
the thin cloak doubled, tripled, expanded in thickness until it was 
like a soft blue mattress suspended just above the forest floor. 
With the release of a final bolt of power their coupled bodies 
began to rise into the air, eliciting a small squeal of surprise from 
Dana. Mulder tightened his grip around her, laughing with a rare 
unguarded joy.
     The beauty of that sound filled Dana's heart with 
happiness as he guided them down into the center of the 
overgrown cloak. She sighed with pleasure as her back hit the 
soft fabric, delighting in the pressure of his body on hers. In 
moments they were again lost in each other, stroking, touching, 
sharing, loving. 
     The remaining clothes were discarded almost without 
thought, Mulder tossing the last boot aside as he buried his 
mouth in the center of her pleasure, breathing in the essence of 
her, even as her ecstasy flooded his senses, bringing his own 
desire to a fever pitch.
     Dana felt his burgeoning need mixed intrinsically with 
her own. Reaching down to gently drag him up across her body, 
she urged him down into her, both nearly sobbing with relief as 
he filled her. She could feel her own moisture and heat as it 
cradled him, he could feel his own throbbing strength as it 
penetrated her. He fed her pleasure back to her, and she returned 
it to him, each sensation multiplying; their love and desire feeding 
upon each other until their minds shattered apart and reformed, 
joined and linked, becoming no longer two separate beings, but 
purely one. 
                         - - - - -
     
     Prince Andalor spurred his pony ahead, laughing into 
the wind as he outpaced his escort. Ignoring their pleas, he raced 
ahead, expertly guiding his pony into the trees. It wasn't as 
though he didn't know every inch of the estate like the back of his 
hand. He'd explored these woods many times; he knew every 
tree, every stone, every stream. This was his home, and he 
desperately needed some time alone to think.
     The weight of being heir to the Realm was sometimes 
frightening, especially to an eight year-old boy who had seen both 
his parents die. Sometimes he dreamed about their deaths, 
reliving every horrible moment in perfect detail. Much as he 
enjoyed his photographic memory, there were moments when 
was a more of a curse than a blessing. The foreign magician 
understood as no one else did, Andalor had seen the knowledge 
and pain flicker in his oddly-colored eyes.
     Actually, it was because of the two foreigners - the two 
Travellers - that he was busily ducking his guards and tutors.  If 
the Travellers were here, it meant that the Time of the ancient 
Prophecy was finally at hand. Already, people were dying, 
suffering throughout the Realm, and Andalor knew deep down 
inside that things were only going to get worse. His tutors had 
tried to shield him, to pretend that things were all right, but 
Andalor was good at hearing things he wasn't supposed to. And 
while the others might lie smoothly, Reinald was a terrible liar. 
The mage would fidget terribly whenever he tried to keep 
something from the Prince - rub at his nose, bite on his bottom 
lip, mess with the hem of his robe. No, whatever they might say, 
Andalor knew the Time was at hand. The young Prince just 
wasn't sure what he should do about it.
     Once he was certain he had left his pursuers far behind, 
the fair-haired child slid down of his pony, and led the animal 
through the underbrush, heading unerringly for one of his favorite 
spots. Breaking through a thicket of pines, Andalor sighed with 
pleasure as he saw the small waterfall trickling down the edge of 
a small incline, a small pool formed at its base. Tying the pony to 
a nearby tree, he yanked off his boots as he ran, laughing as he 
waded into the water.
     He splashed around for a few moments, just enjoying 
the sense of freedom, before he decided to go back to shore and 
settle down to figure out a plan of action. Just as he was about to 
climb onto land, a sudden movement caught the corner of his eye 
and he stopped in mid-stride.
     "Hello?" he called out, glancing around him as his hand 
felt for the small dagger held in a loop of his belt. But before his 
fingers could close upon the hilt, there was a sudden flash of light 
from the forest. The bright blue beam struck the water, freezing it 
into solid form, turning ripples of liquid into carved flows of 
stone. A sharp cry of dismay barely escaped Andalor's lips as his 
body shimmered and glowed, slowly transmuting into a marbled 
statue: silent, motionless, and cold.

                         
                   -----------------


     If there had been a morning in his life that Mulder had 
been happier, he couldn't remember it.   Looking down at the 
sleeping form of his partner, he felt a fulfillment, a satisfaction 
and a happiness that he had never known.  The hell they had 
shared yesterday had given way to paradise in the night.  Clothed 
in darkness, sheltered by starlight, they had removed the last of 
the barriers between them.  Their lovemaking had been both 
tender and fevered, measured and passionate.  It was everything 
either of them had ever fantasized in lonely darkness or in cold 
light.  To be sure, he still feared the negative aspects of the life-
bond - now more than ever, with the danger that surrounded 
them.  But he was starting to realize the immensity of the joy that 
same bond could bring.  For the thousandth time in the past few 
hours, he wished that he could just go off somewhere with Dana, 
to be free to explore each other, to get to know each other better 
in this new way.  The danger to the Realm precluded all 
possibility of that happening now.  After what they had seen 
yesterday, everyone's personal agenda was going to have to wait 
until the fate of the Realm had been decided.  My timing's always 
been lousy, Mulder thought.
     "Oh, I wouldn't say that," whispered Scully, looking up 
at him with laughter and love in her eyes.  Even before her mind 
had fully formed the thought, he had dipped his head to claim her 
mouth, deepening the kiss as he tightened the arm that was 
around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him. 
     "Mulder, it's almost dawn," she murmured, moving her 
head a bit to give him better access to the sensitive skin of her 
neck and throat.  "We should get dressed and get back to camp."
     "Yes, we really should," he breathed.  "Just - not yet...."
                         - - - - - 

     "Aldara!  Wake up!"  Jourdain's urgent whisper carried 
into her tent and the warrior was awake in an instant.  
     She poked her head through the tent flaps.  "What is it?"  
she demanded, knowing that he would have a good reason for 
summoning her before first light.  Or at least he'd better. 
     "The Mage Mulder is missing, as is Scully.  Their tent 
hasn't been slept in all night.  The guards keeping watch said they 
entered the woods soon after everyone retired last night, and no 
one has seen them since.  I'm getting worried.  Anything could 
have happened.  But I don't want to alarm the others, not until 
I'm sure I have to."
     "What's your plan?"
     "Come with me and help me search.  Your eyes are 
sharper than mine, especially in the dark."
     She peered into his face.  He did seem anxious.  She 
knew Scully's capabilities and was inclined to think that the 
foreign woman was more than able to take care of herself in any 
eventuality.  But she knew Jourdain was feeling responsible for 
the safety of  the pair, and she respected that.  She nodded.  "All 
right.  Which way did they go?"
     Quietly the two of them slid out of camp, choosing an 
overgrown track which followed the course of the river.   Not 
daring to call out for fear of attracting unwanted attention, they 
relied on Aldara's sharp eyes and ears in their search.  The only 
sounds she heard were Jourdain's mutterings, a combination of 
prayers and threats to the gods that Mulder and Scully would be 
found safely.  It was perhaps because of those mutterings that she 
did not hear the pair for whom they were searching until they had 
almost blundered into them.
     Aldara, not surprisingly, spotted them first.  "It would 
appear they are in little danger, Jourdain,"  she said dryly in her 
softest whisper.  "In fact, they appear to be in a truly enviable 
state of health."
     Jourdain looked over the top of her head, and grunted 
softly.  Taking her sleeve, he pulled her back up the path for a 
distance of some fifty yards, then sat.  She settled down beside 
him.
     "I'm loathe to interrupt, but we may have to - we need 
to be on the road soon,"  he said.  "I never thought - well, it's 
hard to remember that foreign mages may take a wife, may have 
a life-bond. I hope that didn't embarrass you, Aldara,"  he said, a 
little embarrassed himself.  Noting the shake of her head, he 
continued,  "Gods, I miss that."  Realizing what he had just said, 
he turned to her, eyes wide, stumbling in his effort to explain 
himself.  "Nay, nay, not THAT!  Well, not that exactly. It's just -"  
Giving up, he decided to start again.
     "You know I was married, that my wife died some years 
ago,"   he said softly.  "After a while, you give up on the idea that 
you can have that kind of happiness again.  We weren't life-
bonded, as those two, but we were happy enough.  I miss it.  Not 
so much that, the coupling."  He inclined his head in the general 
direction of where they had found Mulder and Scully. Then he 
smiled, a little guiltily.  "Well, yes, that too.  But especially the 
closeness.  There are just times when - "  he sighed.
     "Have you ever thought of perhaps finding another?"   
Aldara asked.  She, too, sometimes ached for the closeness of a 
lover, but had given up on the idea herself.  How many men 
wanted a half-breed female warrior for a lover?  There had been 
times when she was with Jourdain when she was almost sure that 
he - but then, her experience in matters of the heart was so 
limited, she may have misinterpreted a kind word for more than it 
was.
     He was silent for a long while.  "Sometimes, yes.  But 
I'm not exactly young.  And I'm a soldier, which means I'm in a 
dangerous profession and I'll never be wealthy.  Between age, 
battlescars and nature, I'm not much to look at.  I have little to 
offer a woman."
     "Well, that would depend on what a woman is looking 
for, wouldn't it?"   Aldara turned to look at him, a little shyly, 
hoping to see some encouragement.  Tentatively, she continued,  
"Any woman looking for someone strong, and courageous, and 
honorable; someone dependable, and faithful, and honest, would 
be very happy with someone like you."
     Jourdain was very still, except for the pounding of his 
heartbeat, so loud that surely she could hear it.  Almost inaudibly, 
he whispered, "Would you know of anyone like that?"
     A gentle hand stroked his cheek.  "I might,"  she 
whispered back, smiling.
                         - - - - - 

     The sun was just coming over the horizon, turning the 
river to a ribbon of pink and gold, when Mulder and Scully 
started reluctantly making their way back to camp.  They hadn't 
gone far when they came upon an extraordinary sight.  Jourdain, 
the rough grizzled warrior, was holding Aldara in his lap as 
carefully as if he thought she might break, as firmly as if he 
thought she might disappear.  They were whispering.  Her hand 
was caressing his cheek, his occasionally reached down to touch 
her hair, her throat, her face, as if to ensure himself that she was 
real.
     "Sorry, are we interrupting?"   Mulder said softly.  
     The two sprang away from each other, quite red-faced, 
feeling incredibly awkward in front of the Mage and his life-
bondmate.
     "I'm afraid we have to get going and break camp.  I 
sympathize - you have no idea how much I sympathize,'  Mulder 
said, and then was amazed when the two experienced warriors 
broke into giggles.
     "Oh, we have an idea," said Aldara,  Jourdain not 
trusting himself to speak.  The two led the way back to camp.
     Mulder and Scully lagged a little way behind.  "What do 
you think all that's about?,"  he asked Scully. 
     From her vantage point this morning, Scully had had a 
better view of the trail, and knew very well what their giggles 
were all about.  She smiled up at him.  "Probably nothing."
     Within a minute or two, they were back in camp, which 
had sprung into life.  Pots filled with water and pans with meat 
strips were on the cookfires, and the soldiers were breaking down 
the tents and getting them packed on the horses.  Jourdain and 
Aldara, once again just two soldiers, took charge of the 
remainder of the breakfast preparation.  They had all taken seats 
around the fire.  As Scully passed Mulder a mug of tea and a 
plate, she mentally felt him recoil.  Looking up into his face, she 
saw that he had gone white.
     "Excuse me."  He paced a few yards off, and turned his 
back to the group.  He appeared to be staring into the distance.  
After a several minutes, he turned to face them, his eyes ranging 
over the small clearing.  He nodded, his eyes distant for a few 
more minutes, then he seemed to focus and walked slowly back 
to the fire.
     He spoke in a low voice.  "There's been trouble at the 
castle.  The Prince was discovered to be missing yesterday 
afternoon when his pony came back to the castle without him. 
They've had search parties out all night to try to find him.  They 
finally found him this morning.   Apparently, he has had some 
kind of a spell cast against him."  Jourdain and Aldara cursed 
vociferously and Tarnor looked ready to burst into tears.  Scully 
had already picked up quite a bit from her link with Mulder, so 
she knew before he made his announcement.  Picturing the 
beautiful, vibrant child turned into a cold, hard mockery of his 
living self,  she shuddered.  
     Mulder waited for their outbursts to die down, then 
continued.  "Reinald, of course, is devastated.  No one knows 
who did it, and the news is not yet widely known.  But Reinald 
said that those who have heard about it are getting restless.  They 
want someone to blame.  There have been angry mobs gathering 
at the castle, shouting for Reinald's head.  We have to get back 
there as fast as we possibly can. The ride back will take too long.  
The Realm may be torn apart by revolution and anarchy by then.  
Faced with no other alternative, Reinald and I are going to build 
a Gate."
     "What can we do?"  asked Jourdain.  Right now, he 
needed to do something, to channel the incredible anger he felt.  
He knew Aldara would feel the same way.
     "Take charge of the other men. And the horses, 
especially - they won't like all the noise and lightning and such.  
The last thing we're going to need is my being distracted at a 
critical moment by a stampede."
     Scully looked at him.  "This is dangerous, isn't it?"
     He knew better than to try to lie.  "Yes, it can be,"  he 
admitted.  "But I've done it before and I know a lot more now 
than I did then. I'll be all right.  I'm more worried about what 
we'll find once we get back."
     "I know.  Mulder, that poor little kid.  All right, what 
can I do?"  she asked.
     "Keep everyone clear, no matter what.  You, too."  He 
looked at her, not the way he had looked at her in all the months 
and weeks that went before, but in the way he had started 
looking at her since last night. He sent her a message, for only 
each other's minds to know.  By the way her mind caressed his, 
the way her face glowed, the way her eyes grew slightly moist, he 
knew she had received it. "Okay now, back up, and keep that 
area over there clear."   He indicated the area where the tents had 
been pitched the night before.
     He walked over the center of the area and established 
his connection with Reinald.  In some ways, in spite of what he 
had said to Scully, having helped to build a Gate before was not a 
lot of comfort.  In the previous situation, it was their only chance 
to escape death.  He had been so disoriented and shell-shocked 
by the fall through the Vortex and the attack of the soul-eaters 
that he had not fully comprehended the dangers involved, which 
now he understood only too well.  He also understood better 
now the enormity of their task and the price he would pay 
physically and mentally, even if everything went as it should.  He 
braced himself, and sent Reinald the signal.
     Within seconds, he was surrounded by the crackling 
white and blue power flames, and he staggered with their force.  
Scully gasped as white fire danced from his fingertips, blue flames 
coursed down his legs.  Although he had shielded himself, 
because of their special bond she felt the incredible strength it 
took for him to control this energy. Concentrating all his efforts, 
he drove the power deep in the earth, anchoring it with the 
professional twist Reinald had taught him.  Panting, he squatted 
down and took a couple minutes to recover, realizing that if he 
passed out during the construction of the Gate, he would die and 
would probably kill Reinald, as well.  When he felt strong 
enough, he stood and centered himself once again.  Then, he 
seized the top of the huge column of fiery energy with his mind, 
bending it and plunging it into the ground.   Taking a shaky 
breath, he stepped into the center of the arch he had created, and 
sent the energy back to Reinald.  
     A minute later, the arch began to cloud, then slowly 
focus into sharp definition, and Reinald was there, calling to 
them.  Mulder summoned the soldiers, who had covered the 
horses' heads with blankets to prevent as much as possible their 
becoming frightened.  They led the rearing, snorting beasts 
through the arch to the castle courtyard.  Next went Tarnor, then 
Jourdain and Aldara.  Wearily, he walked over the Scully and 
took her hand.  
     "Speechless, Scully?  That's not like you,"  he teased.
     "You did that before?  Built a Gate like that when we 
were in the woods?  You're right, I am speechless," she said.  
"That was incredible." 
     He gathered her close, then cupped her face in his hands 
and kissed her.  "It was much more incredible this time.  I'm 
surprised I had the energy, after last night," he observed.
     "If you weren't so obviously exhausted right now, I'd get 
you for that."  She smiled up at him, took his hand, and led him 
through the Gate to Fairwood Keep.                
                                   
     - - - - -

When they had all arrived back through the portal, the soldiers 
took charge of the horses and led them off in the direction of the 
stable.  Grimly, the others followed Reinald to his chambers, 
every so often hearing the shouts and clamor of the mob outside 
the castle gates.  In his chamber at last, they sat at the hearth 
while Reinald updated them.
     "Did you tell them the nature of the spell on the Prince?"  
he asked Mulder.
     "No. Scully knows, I think.  I thought I'd wait until we 
got back here and they could see for themselves."  Mulder paused 
while Grejor served him tea.  "Are you any closer to knowing 
who did it?"
     "I wish I were.  Ask most of the people gathered outside 
the gates and they'll tell you I did it."  Reinald shook his head, a 
resigned expression on his face.  "I can't blame them really.  It's 
the most logical solution.  Besides, they're frightened.  The 
harvests the last several years have been poor, not enough to 
cause famine, but poor nonetheless.  There have been intermittent 
plagues, especially among the young. And now the attacks of the 
beasts from the Dark Realm.  It doesn't take a Mage to tell them 
that the Prophecy is being fulfilled before their very eyes.  They 
know as well as anyone what's coming - that it could be the end 
for all of us, for our world.  They've looked to Mages from time 
immemorial for protection, and all too often that trust was 
abused by magicians who used their powers for selfish or spiteful 
reasons.  Their trust has been eroded.  Now, it appears a Mage is 
responsible for harming their Prince.  Naturally, they'd be after 
my head."  Reinald's voice grew rough with emotion, and unshed 
tears glinted in his eyes.  "Oh, Andalor,"  he whispered.
     "Where is he now?"   Mulder asked gently.
     Reinald gestured to Grejor, who opened the door to his 
master's bedchamber.  The Prince stood in the center of the 
room, frozen for all time in stone.  Mulder and Scully looked in 
first, followed by Jourdain, Tarnor and Aldara.  The five returned 
to their chairs with identical expressions of sorrow and anger.
     "What can we do?"  asked Scully.
     Reinald pulled himself together.  "There's so much to do 
I hardly know where to begin.  Jourdain, Aldara - our enemies 
without and within will lose no time in taking advantage of this.  
As it is, word of the Prince's fate reached the people suspiciously 
quickly, leading me to believe that factions inside the castle 
spread the news.  The ever-bickering factions and a panicked 
populace would be enough to deal with.  But we can hardly 
expect the attacks from the Dark Realm's forces to stop.  
Therefore, we have two battlefronts, Jourdain, my old friend.  
And I believe one of your first duties will be to arrest and 
imprison me."
     "Nay!  I'll never do it!" declared Jourdain.  "No one can 
make me.  The idea - that you could harm a hair of the Prince's 
head - it's ridiculous!"
     "Thank you, Jourdain, your faith is appreciated, believe 
me.  But when the time comes, arresting me is exactly what you 
must do."  Reinald looked gravely at his Captain and friend.  
"There will be revolution if it appears that the Prince's attacker 
will not be brought to justice.  As it is, there was almost a riot 
when the magically sensitive in the crowd sensed the construction 
of a Gate - I'm sure they thought I was making my escape.  In 
any event, if there is revolution, we will never be able to defend 
against the evil creatures of the Dark Realm, and we will be 
doomed for certain.  Aldara, you will be in charge of keeping 
order internally - preventing riots, keeping the factions and the 
noble houses in line as much as possible, reassuring the people.  
Keep Jourdain abreast of your activities.  Jourdain, you need to 
take charge of preparing our troops for war with the forces of the 
Dark Realm."  He stopped, noting the warrior's expression.  "I do 
realize that what I'm asking for is nearly impossible.  Through 
Mulder and Tarnor, I saw the unspeakable slaughter and 
devastation at Wide River.  But those creatures must have some 
kind of  weakness, or we must have some form of strength that 
can be used successfully against them.  I want you to find our 
strength or their weakness and draw up a strategy for using what 
you find.  You are to have all the resources of the Realm at your 
disposal, including the cooperation of Mage Mulder, Scully, and 
my apprentices, Tarnor and Grejor.  Do you understand?"
     Grimly, Jourdain nodded.
     "Good."  Reinald paused, letting his head drop back 
against the chair.  The Mage's skin was almost gray from 
exhaustion.  Between being up all night coordinating the search 
for the Prince, the emotional drain of the Prince's fate, and 
building the Gate, the toll on him had been heavy.  "You may all 
leave, all but Mulder and Scully.  Grejor, you too are dismissed."
     "Mage, is there nothing I can help you with?  You are 
exhausted,"  Grejor protested.
     "No, lad.  You're a good boy, but I'll be resting soon.  I 
just need a few words with the Travellers first.  I'll call you if I 
need you."
     Sullenly, Grejor mumbled a farewell, then left the 
chamber.
     When he had gone, Reinald turned to Mulder and 
Scully.  "Well, I see another part of the Prophecy has been 
fulfilled!  One that for a change brings me great joy."  He smiled 
benignly at the pair.
     Scully sensed Mulder grow tense beside her.  Reinald 
sensed it too.
     "Even now you haven't told her, Mulder?"  he chided, 
shaking his head.
     "Told me what?"  asked Scully, looking at Mulder.
     "Everything happened so fast!  Really, Scully, I would 
have told you on the ride back today, if there had been a ride 
back.  I didn't want to tell you before because..."  Mulder 
hesitated.  "Well, several reasons, I guess.  I was having a hard 
time dealing with it, and I thought you'd have an even harder 
time.  And I didn't want to put any pressure on you, I wanted you 
to make up your own mind, and - "
     "Told me WHAT?"  She demanded.
     "Um...Reinald, would you - ?"  Mulder looked almost 
desperately at Reinald, who chuckled, then nodded.
     "Mulder must be forgiven for not telling you, my dear,"  
Reinald said.  "I'm not sure he believed me when I first told him, 
and then the idea frightened him badly - "  He noticed Mulder's 
look of shock.  "Well, it did, did it not?  Yes, I thought so.  
Anyway, try not to be too hard on him.  He has a point when he 
says that he didn't want to influence you in any - "
     Scully's voice was icy.  "If one of you doesn't tell me 
what's going on, NOW, I'm going to throw a little Mage-storm of 
my own!"
     Mulder and Reinald looked at the irate woman and then 
at each other.
     "Oh, I'm sorry.  Well,"  said Reinald.  "You and Mulder 
share a life-bond.  Your auras predetermined it.  Once you met, 
there was no stopping it."
     "What exactly is a life-bond?"  Now that her questions 
were being answered, Scully's voice had lost its edge.
     "It's the closest kind of relationship that exists, Dana,"  
explained Mulder.  "It's why we had those visions when we first 
arrived, before Corvay taught us how to control them.  It's why 
we always know where the other is.  That's very unusual here.  
It's not because of your psi ability either, although that kind of 
makes it all the stronger.  Mostly it's because of this life-bond 
thing."
     "Mulder, why in heaven's name didn't you tell me?"  
asked Scully.
     He looked down, not wanting to meet her eyes, partly 
ashamed of not telling her about the life-bond,  partly ashamed of 
his fear.  Seeing Mulder's difficulty, Reinald stepped in.
     "There are aspects of the life-bond which are 
rather...daunting,"  explained Reinald.  "I believe Mulder had 
trouble with the concept that the life-bondmates are less than a 
whole, singly.  He feared losing you, and losing himself in the 
process."
     "I just emotionally hared out,"  admitted Mulder softly, 
deep pain in his eyes.  Also in his mind, and she was getting the 
full force of it, as she gasped and her eyes filled with tears.  "Oh!  
Dana, I'm sorry." He shielded, and her pain diminished.  
"Anyway, thinking about the life-bond brought back all the hell of 
your abduction and illness and all my self-destructiveness and 
desperation then.  I just didn't want to deal with the potential for 
that much devastation again."
     Even if she had not just shared his pain, she would have 
known the effect that Reinald's explanation of the life-bond 
would have on him.  He was only too well aware of the fact that 
without her, he was not  whole.  He hardly needed some life-
bond to reinforce it.  And she was well aware of his fear for 
losing her.  Even in their own world, without telepathy or 
empathic links, that fear had been communicated to her in a 
variety of ways in almost every case they had investigated 
together.  "And now?"  she asked, her eyes still bright with tears.  
"Nothing's really changed, Mulder.  Can you deal with that 
potential now?"
     "Now I know the extent of the joy, too,"  he said 
simply, his voice rich with feeling.  "And I'm willing to risk the 
pain for the incredible joy that this brings.  That you bring."  
Mulder searched her face.  "But I wanted you to choose freely, to 
decide to enter into this relationship without the pressure of 
knowing that it was destined."
     "So are we life-bonded now?"  asked Scully.  "How did 
it happen?"  She looked at Mulder, who in turn looked at 
Reinald.
     "In a way, you always were, from birth.  Once you met 
and spent time together, it was - I'm sorry, the language spell 
really can't cope with this, your language doesn't have the words 
-  "forged", is the closest word you have.  The bond becomes 
increasingly strong and close over time.  And once it has been  - 
oh, the language problem again -"validated", it becomes inviolate, 
unbreakable, unassailable, with even more closeness.  Yes, now 
that your bond has been validated, it shows quite clearly in your 
auras.  Scully's now carries a little of Mulder's blue, and Mulder's 
has some green and just a touch of brown.  Both absolutely 
unique.  You may still need some training in dealing with some of 
the feelings you're going to have, especially now that you're 
validated.  Corvay can help with that, if there's time."
     "Time is something we're running short of.  What do 
you want us to do, Reinald?"  asked Mulder gravely.
     "Find out who did this to the Prince,"  Reinald replied 
without hesitation.  "I appreciate the fact that you don't think it 
was me.  Obviously it was someone with a knowledge of magic, 
but that could be any of hundreds - every village has its Mage.  
Yesterday was a Market Day, so there were countless numbers of 
strangers within the castle gates.  Some Mage in the pay of one 
of the noble houses, perhaps a friend of Drellor, who knows?  
But we must find the person who cast the spell.  In the language 
of the casting we will find the only clues we're likely to get for 
the key to removing the spell."
     "Is the Prince still alive?  Can he hear us, sense us?"  
asked Scully.  She didn't know which would be worse, not 
sensing at all, or being able to sense those around you, but not be 
able to move a muscle or communicate in any way.
     "I believe with all my heart and mind that he is still alive, 
but is in some form of stasis," replied Reinald.  "As to the other 
..  I go in, I talk to him, I try to reassure him, but ..."  His eyes 
filled with tears.
     "We'll do whatever we can,"  Mulder promised.  "In our 
reality, this is the kind of thing we do for our work - investigating 
- and we're pretty good at it.  Just keep your mind open to 
communication, especially if you're arrested and they won't let me 
see you.  By the way, am I likely to be suspected of casting the 
spell on the Prince?"
     "There's been some talk, again I think it was generated 
by someone here in the castle,"  Reinald admitted.  "But 
fortunately you were at too great a distance and with too many 
credible witnesses for anyone to take such talk seriously."  He 
sagged.  "I'm sorry, but I must rest now.  Mulder, you should rest 
too for a few hours, to recover from building the Gate.  You 
don't know when you're going to be called upon to use your 
powers, so you need to keep them in top form."
     "I'll do that, Reinald."
     As Mulder and Scully stood to leave, the Mage grabbed 
Mulder's sleeve and looked at him.  The two communicated 
silently for a few moments, then Mulder nodded.  "I'll remember," 
he said.
     After seeing Reinald safely to bed, the couple strolled 
wearily to their chamber.    
                              - - - - -

     "Mad at me?"  He looked at her askance.
     The two had spoken little on their way from Reinald's 
quarters.  Now they were back in their own chamber.  The 
weather, perhaps sensing the mood of the Realm, had grown 
overcast and chilly, and they were glad for the fire that crackled 
merrily in the hearth, cheering the otherwise gloomy room.
     "I'll get over it.  I do understand why you didn't tell me - 
but that doesn't mean I agree with it. When will you learn not to 
try to protect me all the time?  No more, all right?"
     "No more," he agreed, a little too easily.
     Scully sighed.  "Mulder, don't promise what you can't 
deliver.  I'd be satisfied with a promise that you will in the future 
at least ATTEMPT not to be so overprotective of my body and 
my psyche."
     "Okay.  I will try as hard as I can not to be so 
overprotective.  How's that?"  He looked at her hopefully.  
"Friends again?"
     In spite of herself, Scully smiled.  "I guess that's the best 
I can reasonably expect."  She closed the distance between them 
to put her arms around him.  He bent his head, his lips finding 
hers in a kiss that began chaste and sweet and gradually became 
more demanding, as he cupped the rounded softness of her 
bottom and pressed her against him.  While she could still think 
straight, Scully broke away from him.
     "You need to go to bed, Mulder."
     "I intend to."  He kept moving toward her, his hands 
tangled in her hair, raining little kisses on her face, backing her up 
until she was sandwiched between his body and the bed.
     "Those were Reinald's orders.  You're supposed to get 
some sleep,"  she said, with mock severity.
     "I will, I usually do..."  Mulder took her hair and freed it 
from its practical braid to cascade around her shoulders.  
"...afterwards."
     He took her by the waist and boosted her onto the bed, 
standing with her knees on either side of him.  Unlike that first 
night so many weeks ago, now they did not avoid each other's 
eyes.  No more did they have to hide the ferocious hunger 
reflected there; rather, they gloried in the implicit promise.  No 
more did they have anything they had to hide; they were eager to 
share everything they were or needed or wished.  Her arms 
curved around his neck and she leaned close to trace his lips with 
her tongue before plunging it between them to kiss him deeply.  
He removed the belt securing her tunic and ran his hands between 
her shirt and her skin, savoring the warmth and softness they 
found there.  He breathed as if he had been running.
     His hands came out from beneath her shirt to cup her 
face.  His expression became grave, and he looking deeply into 
her eyes.  "Do you think you can manage going through the rest 
of your life being bonded with me?"
     He asked the question seriously.  She knew he expected 
a serious, considered answer.  Her reply was in her head, and 
then it was in his, too, before she could bring the words to her 
lips.  She was suddenly afraid that maybe it was the wrong thing 
to say, that she had said too much, or too little....
     "No, that's perfect,"  he said, softly.  "Me, too, Dana."
     "You know,"  she said with a hint of a smile, "if you had 
said "bonded TO you" my answer might have been different."
     He returned her smile.  "I knew what I was doing.  I 
chose my words deliberately."
     She relaxed and stroked his cheek.  "This instant 
communication is a little scary.  Unless I think to shield, before I 
even say something, you know what it is.  An unguarded thought 
could really hurt.  I can see that this could have its downside."
     "Yes, but right now let me show you the upside," he 
murmured.  He buried his face in the curve between her neck and 
her shoulder, nibbling on what, for her, had always been an 
especially sensitive erogenous area.  His hands had again slipped 
under her shirt to caress the skin down the length of her spine 
and back up again, just the way she had been hoping he would. 
She tightened her legs around his waist and gasped softly.
     "Show me more."
                         
                   -----------------


     Scully awoke when Lita came in to light the torches and 
lay the supper table.  Placing a cautionary finger to her lips, she 
extricated herself from Mulder's limbs and reached for the shirt so 
hastily discarded a few hours before.  She pulled on the long, full 
garment and slid out of bed.  She and Lita went down the length 
of the room to stand near the hearth.
     "Try not to disturb him, he needs to rest.  Leave the 
torches unlit for now.  Just set the food out, in case he wakes up 
hungry.  I'll take care of anything else."
     Lita regarded her with an impish grin.  "Congratulations, 
Traveller Scully."
     Scully looked puzzled.  "For what, Lita?"
     "On your validation, of course," she smiled.
     "What is this, written on a billboard somewhere?"  
Scully groaned.   "First Jourdain and Aldara see us and then 
Reinald knows and now you know.  Is there anyone who doesn't 
know?
     "It's real hard to keep secrets here.  It's in your aura," 
she explained.  "My people are very sensitive to auras, and I'm 
more sensitive than most, more so than many Mages, it's been 
said.  Anyway, you clearly share some Mage aura now.  It's no 
wonder he needs his rest," she teased.
     Scully chuckled.   "Thanks for your good wishes, Lita.  
Why don't you take the rest of the evening off, I don't think we'll 
be needing anything else.  See you in the morning."  She watched 
as the elf quickly finished laying the table in preparation for 
dinner, and departed.
     I wonder what it's going to be like having no secrets and 
damn little privacy, Scully thought, as she pulled on the rest of 
her clothes.  Tenderness washed over her as she looked at 
Mulder on her way out.  He was sprawled across the bed on his 
stomach, the bedclothes twisted around him, hair falling into his 
eyes, dreaming - dreaming of her!  She smiled.  Mentally she 
pulled down a light shield, blocking his dreams from her view.  
His dreams, at least, should be his own.  She gently closed the 
door behind her.
     She found Corvay in his workroom as she expected.
     "My dear, come in, come in!  Congratulations on your 
validation!"
     Scully's eyes rolled heavenward.   She resignedly shook 
her head, then she accepted his salutation with good grace.
     "I'm so happy for you.  And for us, as this helps to 
further the Prophecy.  Maybe we have a chance now.  Please, 
have some tea and tell me why you're here, visiting an old elf like 
me when you could be with your bondmate."  Corvay scurried 
about, finding the tea things and a couple of stools.
     "You knew all along about this life-bond - you even 
hinted about it when I first told you about the visions,"  Scully 
accused, curious.  "Why didn't you tell me?"
     "It wasn't my place to tell you.  Besides, Reinald asked 
me not to.  He knew that Mulder was having a hard time with it, 
and unless it was absolutely essential to your welfare for you to 
know, he thought it best to just give him some time to come to 
terms with it.  I agreed.  So, now you're validated!  Obviously 
this did not come to pass in the usual manner..."  he looked at her 
expectantly.
     "Since I'm still not certain exactly what is meant by 
validation, I have no idea what the usual manner is,"  said Scully.
     "Oh, well, with validation there's a long period of 
preparation and training, then a very long and involved traditional 
ritual.  This is followed by the families of the bondmates 
accompanying the couple to a special dwelling, and  performing 
yet another long, complicated ceremony, and then leaving them 
there for several days. During that time the validation takes 
place."  The little elf's nose twitched and his face was alight with 
curiosity.
     "I'm still just guessing to a certain extent, but if 
validation means what I think it means, no, it was nothing like 
that,"  Scully admitted, smiling.  "I think it's something that 
Mulder and I have consciously avoided for a long time.  We each 
decided independently that it would complicate things too much.  
Since we've been here, though, there have been changes. We've 
become closer, but - I don't know - I guess we've still been 
avoiding the issue.  But last night, after all the horror at Wide 
River, we needed each other so badly, it just happened.  It just 
seemed right - to affirm life - after so much death and 
destruction.  Actually, that's why I'm here to see you.  I had to do 
something in Wide River, something I didn't want to have to do, 
something that has been haunting me.  I need your advice."  Her 
smile had transformed into a troubled frown.
     "May I enter as a Healer and touch that memory, 
Scully?"   he said formally, quite serious now.  "You could tell 
me about it, but it would be preferable if I saw it as it actually 
happened.  I must tell you though - you should know that this 
will also force you to see it again, to relive the moment actually,  
which will probably cause you some distress."
     She considered his request for a moment, thinking with 
a little wistfulness of the days when she was the only one with 
access to her mind.  God, the last thing she wanted to do was to 
have to face those horrible moments again.  She sighed, gathered 
all her courage, then she nodded.
     "Just relax."  Corvay brought his stool next to hers, held 
her hand and was motionless for some time.  When he finally 
broke contact several minutes later, both of their faces were wet 
with tears.  "I'm so sorry, my dear.  What a horrible experience.  I 
don't think anything I could do could have prepared you 
adequately for that, not if I had had years to do it rather than 
weeks."
     "Corvay, did I do the right thing for that poor man?"  
Scully voice was still hoarse with grief and guilt.  "Was there 
anything else I could have done?"
     "Nothing that would have changed the outcome for the 
poor devil.  You were correct, there was no treatment for him.  
You had no option.  You did precisely as I would have done.  
Sometimes the only thing a healer can do is offer a merciful 
death.  That is doing your patient as much of a service as 
anything you can do in healing."
     "In my reality, healers are not permitted to do this.  I 
can see both sides of the issue very clearly, in fact I accept some 
of the arguments against such action.  But his suffering was so 
intense, and there was no purpose to it."  The troubled expression 
remained on her face, her eyes still shimmering with tears.
     "The upcoming times are going to be filled with such 
situations  Just know that what you are doing is right."  He 
smiled sadly at her.
     She sniffed a little. "That helps, Corvay, it really does.  I 
think I knew all along, but it helps to hear you say it."
     "I can help more, if you let me.  I have a healing chant 
for such troubling thoughts - will you permit?"
     Shyly, she nodded.  He held her hand lightly and thought 
rather than uttered the chant, the soothing words going deep into 
her very soul.  He released her hand and let the words instill in 
her mind for a short time without distraction.  Gradually, she 
returned to full awareness and smiled at him.
     "Better now, isn't it?  Even your aura shines a bit 
brighter.  Good, I'm glad an old being could help.  Will you be in 
for your lesson tomorrow?"  the tiny elf inquired. 
     "I hope so.  Things are happening so quickly.  Have you 
seen the Prince?"
     "Yes."  The little elf looked downcast again.  "There's 
nothing I can do, not right now, anyway.  Perhaps when a Mage 
has removed the spell, Andalor will need my assistance if his 
memories of the event have traumatized him, especially in view of 
his gift.  As he is, I can do nothing."
     Scully nodded, knowing how much the admission 
probably hurt the soft-hearted elf.  He was a Healer, he wanted 
nothing more than to stop the pain and the hurt, and sometimes it 
was not in his power.
     "Well, you've helped me. Corvay, thank you so much."  
Scully bent down and kissed him on the top of his head.  "See 
you tomorrow,"  she smiled, as she stepped out into the dark 
garden.
                              - - - - -

     Infuriated, Jourdain paced back and forth in Drellor's 
chambers.  The revolting little man was smiling smugly, almost 
gloating.  He had made a valid point and he knew it.
     "I admit I have never cared for Reinald.  He is arrogant 
and obnoxious and uses his power for his own advancement, like 
so many Mages these days.  Whether I think it was he that turned 
my nephew into such a deplorable condition is beside the point."  
He smiled nastily.  "I happen to think that he did, but as I say, it 
is beside the point.  What is to the point is that the Realm is in a 
state of terrible unrest, and only bringing the Prince's attacker to 
justice will quell the coming revolution."  He paused to let his 
words sink in.
     "What is the point of bringing someone who is NOT the 
Prince's attacker to justice?" growled Jourdain.  "Because 
nothing anyone can say will ever make me believe that Reinald 
knowingly did that child harm."
     Drellor shrugged.  "First of all, it will prove to the 
Realm that the matter is in hand, and that no one can escape 
justice, no matter how powerful.  That, in itself, is I believe a 
good enough reason to arrest Reinald without delay."  His eyes 
narrowed as he saw the logic of his argument register with 
Jourdain.  
     Much as the warrior did not want to admit it, Drellor's 
point was well taken.  He had met with Aldara an hour ago, after 
she had had a chance to gather information from the mobs still 
camped outside and representatives of the noble houses and the 
other species of the Realm.  The news was sobering.  The Realm 
was teetering on the brink of collapse.  Rumor ran rampant, fed 
by the factions who were eager to turn any situation to their 
advantage.  Some factions were lining up behind Drellor, and a 
few were staying loyal to the Regent.  Most were just fanning the 
flames of discontent and waiting for an opportunity to advance 
their own candidate to replace Reinald as Regent as soon as he 
was found guilty of putting the spell on the Prince.  The populace 
was mostly concerned about the Prince and thirsting for justice 
for his enchanter.  Aldara reported that Reinald had been correct 
- there was a lot of anti-Mage sentiment among the people, and 
they were terrified that the Prophecy was coming true.
     Drellor broke into Jourdain's thoughts.  "Possibly, the 
spell was a mistake, maybe Reinald lost control of his power for a 
moment and inflicted harm when he was trying to do good.  And 
now he is so consumed with guilt and regret that even he has 
blotted out the event from his memory."  Drellor looked at 
Jourdain slyly.  While the Royal Guard Captain might never 
admit to the possibility of Reinald harming the Prince 
deliberately, he might find the argument of a tragic mistake 
persuasive.  He saw that he had made another direct hit.
     Again, Jourdain could not keep his expression neutral as 
he considered Drellor's suggestion.  Not very likely, he thought, 
but just barely possible.  He was under no illusions - he was not 
taken in by Drellor's act of rationality and devotion to the Realm.  
The man was scum, just out to get an enemy removed and 
himself named as Regent, so he would have control of the Realm.  
But Jourdain also knew how Drellor's arguments would sound to 
the factions and the people, if in fact he had not already broadcast 
them.
     Drellor was ready with his final salvo.  "If, as you say, 
Reinald is completely innocent," he said earnestly, "what better 
opportunity for luring the malefactor into a state of security 
where he likely to err and reveal himself, than by Reinald's arrest?  
As the trial of Reinald proceeds, you can be waiting to trap the 
real enchanter."
     Jourdain stared at Drellor with distaste.   Actually, he 
had had the same thought himself, he was ashamed to say.  He 
strode over to within an inch of the pudgy little man, towering 
over him and purposely intimidating him as much as possible.
     "All right, Drellor, you have made your point.  I go now 
to arrest my friend Reinald.  But remember, one of those I shall 
be watching most closely is you!"
     He stomped over to the door and flung it open.  Grejor 
almost fell into the room from the hallway, looking at Jourdain 
with terror.  Jourdain snorted, now both of the other inhabitants 
of the room beneath his contempt.  Growling, he strode out the 
door and down the hall.  He stopped at the armory, and selected 
four guards to accompany him, then continued to Reinald's 
chambers, where he tapped on the door.
     Reinald himself answered.  "Come in, my friend, I've 
been expecting you."  He opened the door wide and stepped back 
to allow the Captain and his guards to enter.
     Jourdain's face was grave.  "I'm sorry about this, 
Reinald.  I would give all I have not to be doing this."
     "No, you're doing the right thing.  But I have a few 
instructions for you."  Reinald seemed to be taking his arrest 
calmly.  The sleep he had had the past several hours seemed to 
have done him a lot of good.  "First, I give you charge over the 
Prince.  See that he is kept somewhere safe - the armory, your 
quarters, wherever.  But he is never to be left alone.  I don't think 
there will be any further attempts on him, but it pays to be safe.  
Secondly, see that news of my arrest is broadcast immediately.  
This might calm some of the people's fears.  Make sure everyone 
knows that you were instrumental in my arrest - it is important 
that you are seen more as an administrator of justice than as my 
friend and ally.  And third, do not allow Mulder to see me."
     Jourdain's eyes grew wide and he gasped.  "What?  Do 
you suspect him?  Do you think he may try to harm you?"
     "No, no, nothing of the sort.  Just the opposite, in fact.  
The purity of his aura would dismiss that thought, if nothing else 
did.  No, if anyone is acting for totally unselfish motives, it is 
Mulder and Scully.  But again, it is not wise for them to be seen 
as too closely allied with me.  They invite speculation because 
they are foreigners to begin with, and his being a Mage also 
makes him suspect.  They must be able to move about freely in 
order to find the person that enchanted the Prince;  they won't be 
able to do that if they are dogged by my enemies who also 
suspect them.  Between ourselves, if Mulder and I need to 
communicate, we can do so, but in a way so no one else will 
know.   Can you do these things for me?"  Reinald inquired.
     "Of course, Reinald.
     "Have you made any progress on the plans for our 
defense from the Dark Realm?"
     "I haven't had much chance.  I have met with Drellor, 
who knows I am about to arrest you and is no doubt clapping his 
fat little hands for joy."  Jourdain glowered.  "I have also met 
with Aldara concerning the status of our internal enemies.  She 
has things well in hand there,"  he said with some pride, which 
was not lost on Reinald.  In spite of his predicament, the Mage 
smiled, understanding only too well the source of that pride.  
"She has also given me the beginnings of an idea for our strategy 
against the evil ones.  I dare not say more until I have had time to 
think."
     Reinald nodded.  "Then you appear to have things under 
control, insofar as that is possible.  Trust no one, my friend - no 
one except Mulder, Scully, Tarnor and Aldara.  Of them I can be 
certain; to my sorrow, no one else," he said sadly.  Then his voice 
picked up some energy.  "Now.  I have had an idea.  I suggest we 
put on a little demonstration.  Put me in shackles."
     "But Reinald, there is no need for that!"
     "I know, but it will look good for the mob below.  You 
will take me up to the battlements and make the announcement of 
my arrest, I will show them my shackles, and then you will take 
me to the dungeon - the most commodious cell, please, I do not 
wish unnecessary discomfort - remove the shackles and then you 
will lock me up.  That should please the mobs and our other 
enemies and give you a little respite from them as well."  Reinald 
smiled.  "Anything worth doing is worth doing well, Jourdain."
     Jourdain motioned for one of the guards to shackle 
Reinald's wrists.  "But loosely, mind!
Belspar, you will stay behind here to look after the Prince until 
my return.  No one is to enter other than myself, is that clear?"  
The guard saluted and took went into the bedchamber where the 
Prince stood.
     Then the little group started the long walk through the 
hallways and up to the battlements.
                         
                   -----------------

     Scully arrived back at their chamber to find Mulder 
pulling on his breeches and shirt.  "Reinald's been arrested,"  he 
announced without preamble.  "He just contacted me."
     "What are you going to do?"  Scully said, concerned.
     "For the moment, nothing,"  replied Mulder.  "He's 
made it clear that he doesn't want me to visit him in jail.  It's 
getting fairly late to do anything tonight, as far as real 
investigation goes.  I thought maybe we could use this time to 
come up with a plan of action for tomorrow.  And eat.  I'm 
starving, for some reason."
     "The fact that you haven't eaten today may have 
something to do with that.  Let me see what Lita left us."  Scully 
stirred the pot.  "Looks like a vegetable stew.  Let me just stick it 
on the fire for a few minutes to warm up.   That was interesting, 
what Reinald said about the poor harvests for the past few years.  
I had noticed a certain sameness to the diet, but I figured that's 
just what people ate here.  I didn't realize that it might be because 
of food shortages."
     "We're guests here, Scully.  I'm sure we would have 
been the last to feel any effects from food shortages.  Their 
natural sense of hospitality would have made sure of that.  Things 
must be getting worse, though;  meals have been pretty skimpy 
lately.  And if we're going to be mobilizing troops, there will 
probably be some form of rationing imposed."
     Scully stirred the stew, then dished it into thick 
earthenware bowls, passing one to him.  "Mulder?"
     "Oh, thanks,"  he said, distracted.
     "I didn't get most of that.  What are you thinking 
about?"  She dipped her spoon into her bowl and began eating.
     "Trying to think of a way to go about investigating this,"  
he replied.  "We really don't have any authority here, so the 
cooperation we get will be pretty haphazard.  From the little that 
Reinald has told me about all the various political and family and 
species factions, an outsider doesn't have a snowball's chance in 
Hell of figuring out what's going on with them.  If the motive is 
purely political - someone out to remove the present authority 
and replace it with someone else - I think we're in trouble,"  
Mulder said, frowning.
     "I agree.  And from the little contact I've had with the 
noble houses and from what Aldara has said, I think the 
cooperation we can expect is somewhere between extremely 
limited and none,"  Scully said.  "The thing is, Mulder, if the 
motive isn't political, what is it?  I can't bring myself to believe 
that anyone here, not even the repulsive Drellor, would align 
himself with the forces of the Dark Realm.  First, I don't think the 
creatures of the Dark Realm feel the need for an "inside man" - 
they probably think that this Realm is theirs for the taking any 
time they want to take it.  Also, there would be communication 
problems, assuming the creatures speak a different language, and 
there's no reason why they wouldn't.  So I think we can eliminate 
treason, consorting with the enemy, that kind of thing.  Want 
more stew?"
     "Please."  Mulder pushed his bowl forward for another 
helping, then leaned back in his chair.  "All right.  I agree.  
Treason is out.  Politics is something we don't want to consider 
unless all else fails.  So what's left?"  Mulder counted on his 
fingers.  "Greed.  Not a very good motive, in my opinion.  I 
haven't noticed evidence of any great wealth around here.  Maybe 
it's a result of an agrarian economy and consecutive years of poor 
harvests, but I'd say the movers and the shakers here at the castle 
are no better off than the farmers and merchants and craftsmen.  
Besides which, with the forces of the Dark Realm camped on our 
doorstep, how long could anyone reasonably expect to stay 
wealthy?  Or alive, for that matter.  So I would have to eliminate 
greed as a viable motive.  What else?"
     "Revenge?"  suggested Scully.  "We know there was 
bad blood between Drellor and Reinald.  And we know that anti-
Mage feeling is running high.  Maybe we shouldn't be looking for 
someone who wanted to harm the Prince or change the order of 
succession.  Maybe we should be looking for someone who's out 
to get Reinald."
     Mulder nodded slowly, considering her suggestion.   "A 
personal motive.  I like it, Scully.  It would certainly be much 
easier to investigate.  Okay, what else?  What other personal 
motives should we be considering?"
     "Love, requited or otherwise.  Since Mages don't 
indulge - present company excepted, of course - that seems 
unlikely."  Scully grinned at Mulder.  "Your turn."
     "Jealousy.  But jealous of what?"  Mulder looked 
puzzled.  "Reinald has better than average magical powers, but 
that's a gift.  It isn't reasonable to be jealous of that."
     "We may not be dealing with someone who's thinking 
reasonably,"  Scully observed.
     "Good point.  What else is there to be jealous of?  
Attention maybe?"   Mulder posed.
     "You know what strikes me?"  asked Scully.  "The 
timing.  Why now?  It would seem to be a really stupid time to 
try to take over the Realm, with the Dark Forces breathing down 
our necks.  That's another reason I think this is personal, Mulder.  
As part of a plan for acquiring power or wealth, it's insane, it 
makes no sense at all.  But if this is just some person acting out 
of anger or jealousy or frustration, then it does make sense."
     "Scully, you're right!"  Mulder leapt to his feet and 
started pacing, just the way he had done so frequently back in his 
basement office at FBI headquarters a lifetime ago.  "This makes 
it much easier.  Now we just have to compile a list of suspects - 
people who would have reason to want to get back at Reinald for 
some personal reason, probably anger, revenge or jealousy.  Or 
any ideas about who we can eliminate?  We can't ignore the fact 
that someone without magical powers might have hired an 
unscrupulous Mage to do the dirty work, either, though I'd still 
lean towards someone with Mage ability - and quite a bit of it. I 
know from experience that a spell as complex as this one is not 
easy to build or use."
     "Well, I vote we eliminate Jourdain, Aldara and Tarnor 
for a start,"  she said.  "First of all, they were with us in Wide 
River.  I suppose that wouldn't prevent them from having hired 
someone, but still.  I know Aldara pretty well.  I'm aware she 
doesn't particularly like Mages, and that might be seen as a 
motive.  But if she got angry, she'd slit Reinald's throat in a 
temper. She wouldn't plot, nor would she use an innocent kid to 
get back at him.  It's just not her style."
     "I agree, one hundred percent.  Having been on the 
receiving end of her temper, I know you're right.  If she lost it, 
she'd be perfectly capable of doing a lot of damage before she 
came to her senses, but never something like this."  Mulder's eyes 
narrowed as he thought.  "Okay, what about Jourdain?  He too 
strikes me as a very up-front kind of guy.  If pushed, he'd run 
someone through with a sword, but he wouldn't hatch plots.  Nor 
would he harm the Prince.  That's out of the picture 
psychologically, he has an innate awe and respect for authority 
figures.  
     "Tarnor?" Mulder shook his head. "I can't believe he'd 
do this. He does have some mage ability which should put him on 
the suspect list, but in all the time we've spent with him, both in 
the forest and at Wide River, he hasn't done or said anything 
suspicious."
     "Okay, so who does that leave, that we know of?"  
Scully's eyes lit up with an idea.  "Maybe it was an elf - they're 
supposed to have a fairly high level of natural magical ability.  
But not Corvay - I refuse to believe that.  He's devastated about 
the Prince.  Besides, he's in my mind and I'm in his all the time. If 
he had anything to hide, I think he would have made some kind 
of excuse to stop my lessons.  He couldn't be certain that I 
wouldn't take a peek someplace in his head I wasn't supposed to 
be."
     Mulder smiled, intrigued and as always, burning with 
curiosity.  "Someday you're going to have to teach me how that 
psychic healing works.  Anyway, about elves.  I suppose it's 
possible.  But Reinald's been so busy with me, he hasn't had time 
to even notice the existence of anyone else, let alone time to piss 
off some elf so badly that the elf would want to put a spell on the 
Prince and a frame on Reinald."  Mulder sat and leaned back in 
his chair and closed his eyes.
     Who had the thought first, neither could say.  But 
suddenly, the both sat upright.  "Grejor!"
     "It makes perfect sense, Mulder.  He has magical 
abilities, so he had means.  He was here at the castle, so he had 
opportunity.  He was the apple of Reinald's eye until you came 
along.  Then all Grejor was good for was sweeping up smashed 
bottles and serving tea and other menial tasks."  Scully's face was 
lit with enthusiasm.  "He's jealous of Reinald's attention to you, 
your training, and your abilities.  His training has come to a 
standstill, while Reinald has devoted himself to you.  He's 
probably even been jealous of the affection between Reinald and 
Andalor.  So he had a motive."  She frowned.  "What I can't 
understand is why he didn't target you.  He should be more angry 
with you than with anyone."
     "That's something we'll have to ask him.  It makes sense 
that he's got the mage talent. I didn't like the idea that a mage 
handed off such a powerful spell to someone else to activate - it 
could explode too easily in the wrong direction. All right, so we 
consider Grejor our prime suspect,"  Mulder said.  "Now how do 
we flush him out?  Any ideas?"
     "Too bad they don't have polygraphs here,"  Scully 
joked.
     Mulder stared at her.   "But they do!"
     "What?"  Scully stared at him.
     "They do."  Mulder sat forward to explain.  "Whenever 
Reinald was trying to be evasive or less that completely truthful, 
something happened to his aura.  The best way I can explain it is 
that it flickered, and the tone got very slightly darker.  Now, 
Reinald has an aura that's really easy to distinguish, because he's 
so powerful.  I'm not very good at auras at the best of times.  We 
kind of glossed over that part of the training because it wasn't 
really a priority.  In fact, Reinald admitted to me that auras 
weren't his specialty either, that reading auras took a lot of 
concentration on his part.  Anyway, theoretically, Grejor's aura 
should undergo some tell-tale changes if he lies while we're 
questioning him.  Unfortunately with my lack of skill at reading 
auras, I don't think I'd be able to see it well enough to discern 
slight changes."
     "Lita!"  Scully exclaimed.
     "Where?"  Mulder glanced behind him quickly, thinking 
that she had just come in.  "What about Lita?"
     "Lita knew immediately that we - ummmm - were 
"validated", because she could see it in my aura.  She said she 
was especially good at reading auras, better than some Mages, 
she said.  Do you think she would help us?"
     "We can ask in the morning.  Okay, now that we have 
our prime suspect and a way to gather evidence, we need to think 
about something else."  Scully looked quizzically at him.  "What 
kind of evidence do we need?"  Mulder prompted.  "For all we 
know, their justice system works like trial by fire or the Spanish 
Inquisition or the Salem witch trials.  I think we need to find out 
the course of the trial and what kind of evidence is admissible or 
inadmissible.  Also we need to get a time frame.  Will the trial be 
tomorrow, next month, next year?"  Mulder sighed.  "Not that I 
think we have that long."   He stood up, restless.  "It's not too 
terribly late, is it?  Do you think we could go ask Jourdain or 
Aldara?"
     "I don't see why not,"  said Scully, standing.  "I know 
you - you'll be up all night thinking about it if we don't find out."
     He put his arms around her.  "I may be up all night, but 
that is NOT what I'll be doing."
     Scully laughed. "Let's go, Mulder."
                              - - - - -



     The two tapped at Aldara's door, hoping for better luck 
than they had had finding Jourdain.  There had been no answer at 
his door, and too many possibilities for where he might be.  It had 
taken them some time to get to Aldara's quarters.  She lived 
outside of the castle proper, although within the gates, in one of 
the small outbuildings by the stable.  They waited a minute or 
two, then tapped again.
     "Maybe it is too late at night to go visiting,"  Scully said.  
Just as they were turning to leave, the door opened.  Aldara 
stood in her breeches, her shirt untucked, her cheeks flushed and 
her eyes sparkling.
     Scully smiled and whispered so only Aldara could hear, 
"It seems that turnabout is fair play."  Louder, she said, "We had 
some questions about your justice system.  Can you help us?"     
     Aldara chuckled and pulled the door back to allow them 
to enter.  Jourdain was inside, sitting decorously at the table, but 
with the same high color in his cheeks and uncharacteristically 
mussed look.
     "Ah, Jourdain, good,"   said Mulder, apparently 
oblivious to the fact that he and Scully had interrupted 
something.  "We need to pick your brain."
     "What?"  Evidently the language spell had problems 
with that idiom.
     "Sorry.  We need to get some information from you.  
What happens now to Reinald?  When will the trial start, how 
long will it last, what kind of evidence will we need?"  Mulder sat 
at the table, nodding his thanks to Aldara as she pushed a mug of 
tea his way.
     "This kind of trial is unusual, there hasn't been one in 
living memory,"  Jourdain began.  "When the accused is a high 
noble or a member of Royalty, human or otherwise, the structure 
is a little different.  The Council of Representatives is called into 
session.  They act as the jury.   Unfortunately, because it is so 
highly factioned, the way they will determine guilt or innocence is 
based less on the evidence and more on politics and family 
histories.  Representatives of the other species' governments are 
also invited to sit.  They will probably be much more influenced 
by the actual evidence.  Torture as a means of gathering evidence 
is illegal, as is the use of magic spells.  Everything else is 
admissible.  Usually the prosecution makes its case very quickly 
and doesn't present a great deal of evidence.  It doesn't have to.  
Unless the defense evidence is overwhelming, the accused is 
always found guilty."
     Mulder and Scully looked at each other.  "Now I see 
why you didn't want to arrest Reinald."  Scully said.   
     "Exactly," replied Jourdain, grimly.
     "When will the trial take place?"
     "Normally in one to three days from the time of arrest.  
But these are not normal times.  Because of the travel hazards 
and the problems with communication due to the Dark Realm 
incursions, it will take longer to get everyone here.  Maybe a 
week, no longer than that.  The trial itself won't take more than 
two days.  The sentence is carried out immediately."
     Mulder stirred uncomfortably.  "If Reinald is found 
guilty, what's that sentence likely to be?"
     Jourdain sighed heavily.  "If Reinald is found guilty, he 
will receive the death sentence."  
     Mulder and Scully gaped at him.
     He looked over at them, then lowered his eyes.  "It gets 
worse.  As Captain of the Royal Guard, I will be his 
executioner."
                         
                   -----------------

     Scully lay comfortably in the enormous bed, letting her 
mind wander.  Idly, she wondered what time it was.  The light 
that filtered through the opaque bedcurtains was diffuse, 
deceiving.  It was after dawn, anyway.  She looked down at 
Mulder, his head pillowed on her breasts.  He looked absurdly 
young when he was asleep, she thought.  She absently stroked his 
hair, and he stirred a little, his arms tightening around her as if to 
reassure himself of her presence, then relaxing again.  What the 
hell had they been so afraid of?  How much would this actually 
have complicated things, she wondered.  The past two days with 
him had been - incredible.   Now she regretted all the time they 
could have been sharing this closeness, but had chosen not to for 
reasons which now seemed impossible to fathom.
     There was a soft tap at the door, and Scully heard it 
open and close.  Lita.
     "Mulder,"  she whispered, and leaned down to gently 
touch her lips to his.
     "Mmmm."  Still half asleep, he reached for her, to 
prolong and deepen the kiss.  Funny how in just two days that 
reaction had become automatic.
     Scully smiled against his lips.  "Not now, love.  Time to 
get up - no, I know, I don't mean that.  Lita's here."
     Mulder sighed and rolled over onto his back and 
stretched.  Finally he opened his eyes.  "Breakfast!  I'm starved."
     "Mulder, you're such a romantic."  Scully grinned.
     "Mmm, well, you're the one who said 'not now.'  Scully, 
you don't suppose you can find me something to wear?"
     She tossed him his shorts from the bottom of the bed, 
slipped on her nightshirt, and slid out of bed.
     "Good morning , Lita.  We have a favor to ask you,"  
Scully said, crossing to the breakfast table and seating herself.
     "Of course, Traveller Scully.  What can I do for you?"  
Lita answered without pausing from her task of filling the copper 
tub with bath water.
     Mulder finally appeared from behind the bedcurtains and 
shuffled to the table.  "Scully tells me you have a gift for seeing 
auras.  We're going to need some help interpreting someone's 
aura.  Specifically, trying to determine if this person is telling the 
truth.  I've noticed aural changes when someone lies.  What do 
you think, is that true?"
     "Oh, yes, quite true.  The more vibrant the person's 
aura, the easier it is to tell, but yes, there's almost always some 
kind of change.  Strictly speaking, it isn't related to lying, as much 
as trying to hide something,"  Lita said.  "I had a brother who 
was always into mischief and trying to get away with things.  He 
was always surprised he got caught.  It took him ages to figure 
out his aura gave him away.  He was not blessed with 
intelligence, that one."
     Scully smiled.  "So will you help us?"
     "Yes, of course.  What do you want me to do?"  Lita 
looked expectantly from Scully to Mulder.
     "Just come with us when we question someone,"  
replied Mulder.  "Don't say anything until afterwards, when we're 
alone again, then give us your impressions of what happened to 
his aura when certain questions were asked.  Can you do that?"
     Lita nodded.  "Who are you going to question?"
     Mulder and Scully looked at each other and a rapid 
flurry of messages passed between them.  Deciding that they 
were committed to trusting her, Scully finally said "Mage 
Apprentice Grejor."
     "Him!"  snorted Lita.  "I could tell you stories about that 
one, I could!"
     Mulder tried to keep the keen interest out of his voice.  
"Like what, Lita?"
     She lowered her voice.  "Well, I'm not a gossip as the 
gods well know, but that one has no business being a Mage 
Apprentice.  His gifts are ordinary, very ordinary," she sniffed 
disdainfully.  "Many's the time Reinald almost went mad from 
frustration trying to teach him.  It's been said the only reason 
Reinald kept him on is that he felt sorry for him.  That, and 
Grejor's determination.  He is ambitious, determined to go back 
to his village as a trained Mage."  She stopped and frowned.
     "What is it?"  asked Scully.
     "Well, now that I think about it,"  Lita said slowly, "I 
haven't been running into Grejor as often as usual for the past few 
days - in fact, I don't think I've actually laid eyes on him for a 
week or more.  I've had a couple of errands to do that involved 
going to Reinald's chambers, but Grejor always seemed to 
disappear into another room or a closet whenever I showed up."
     "Lita, is your ability to read auras well known 
throughout the castle?"  asked Scully, catching Mulder's eye.
     "Pretty well known.  In fact, Reinald himself asked me 
to help him concerning an aural problem,"  she finished proudly.
     "Was Grejor apprenticed to Reinald then?"  asked 
Mulder.
     "Wait, let me think.  Yes, I believe so, very early in his 
apprenticeship, it was. No, wait!  It was when Grejor was being 
considered for the apprentice post.  That's it,"  Lita smiled.  
"Reinald himself was having problems reading Grejor's aura.  
Reinald's really not very good at auras for such a powerful Mage 
and Grejor's aura is very strange anyway.   Blue, but a little on 
the pale side for anyone with Mage ability, and kind of - "dusty" - 
is the only way I can describe it.  So Reinald asked me to read 
Grejor's aura for him.  I think Grejor was upset about that - a 
mere maidservant interpreting his aura.  He tends to be a little 
defensive about his aura as it is.  So anyway, I told Reinald what 
I saw."
     Scully was almost afraid what the outspoken Lita might 
have said.  "What did you tell him?"
     "Well, I was nice to the lad.  He couldn't help it, after 
all.  I was honest with Reinald about the aura - that's a matter of 
pride with me - but then I said he was a likely looking lad and I 
was sure that he would work hard.  And he has, I'll give him that. 
He'll do anything to get ahead.  All right, will there be anything 
else?"
     "Are you coming back for my bath?"  asked Mulder 
hopefully.  What had begun as an embarrassing ordeal had 
become for him a highly appreciated luxury, almost a decadence, 
that he happily anticipated every morning.
     Lita laughed.  "Heavens no, you're validated now, 
Mage!  That is now something your bondmate may do if she 
wishes, no one else.  I've filled the tub, I'll empty it when you're 
finished.  That's where my duties end now."
     "Oh.  Well, thank you for setting me straight on that," 
said Mulder, disappointed. "Yes, check back with us in a little 
while, then we'll go see Grejor."
     She left, and they began to eat breakfast. Mulder 
seemed distracted.
     "Uhhhm...Scully...?"
     "Only if you promise to behave."
                         - - - - -

     They were almost ready when Lita rapped at the door 
about an hour later.   While waiting, she busied herself with 
clearing away the breakfast things, then turned to the tub.  She 
surveyed the flood of water on the floor surrounding the tub and 
shook her head. "There's a trick to emptying the tub.  Leave it for 
me, don't try to do it yourself."
     "That's not - "  Mulder began.
     "Thank you, Lita, we'll remember that," said Scully 
hastily.  She finished braiding her damp hair.  "Okay, let's go."
     The three walked through the hallways to Reinald's 
chambers and knocked.  There was no answer.  They then 
checked Grejor's quarters, the food hall, the courtyard and the 
stables, all without success.
     "All right, I'm open to suggestions, ladies,"  said 
Mulder, his mouth twisting into a grimace.  "Any ideas where 
Grejor might be?"
     Lita shook her head.   "I can put the word out amongst 
the servants, Mage.  That'll probably work as well as anything.  
Meanwhile, there's duties I must get back to."
     "Yes, of course.  Sorry for wasting your time, Lita,"  
said Mulder.  "We'd appreciate your spreading the word.  We'll 
see you tonight; sooner if you find out anything."
     They sighed simultaneously as they watched her leave.
     "Mulder, let's try Drellor.  He may know where Grejor 
is.  Whether he wants to tell us is another story,"  said Scully.  
"Interesting, what Jourdain said about Grejor being at Drellor's 
chamber yesterday.  There may be a perfectly good reason for it, 
of course, something perfectly innocent, but somehow I kind of 
doubt it.  It sounded like Grejor had been eavesdropping.   
Besides, Drellor is such a worm, I can't believe anything good 
about him."
     "It can't hurt," agreed Mulder, and they struck out for 
Drellor's quarters.
     Scully rapped on the door.
     Drellor's frown turned to an oily smile when he saw 
Scully.  "Oh my dear, how lovely of you to visit me."  He had 
grabbed her hand and put it to his wet lips when he caught sight 
of a glowering Mulder behind  her.  He dropped her hand 
abruptly.  "Oh, and Mage Mulder, I am so honored,"  he said, 
with considerably less enthusiasm than he had greeted Scully. 
"What can I do for you?"
     "We've been looking for Grejor.  I don't suppose you'd 
have any idea where he is, would you?"  asked Mulder, 
somewhat imperiously.
     "What would you want Grejor for?"  asked Drellor 
suspiciously.  
     "We need to consult with him regarding some magic.  
With Reinald in jail, Grejor is the only source I have for some of 
Reinald's books and so on,"  Mulder answered smoothly.
     "I'm sorry, I have no idea.  I expect he'll turn up sooner 
or later.  Now if you don't mind, I have much to do."  Drellor 
looked pointedly at them, and then the door.
     "I'm glad to see you bearing up so well, what with the 
tragedy involving your nephew and all,"  said a very sympathetic 
Scully.  "It must have been a terrible shock for you.
     Evidently, Drellor didn't have an ear for sarcasm.  "My 
dear, you have no idea what a blow it's been. That's why I have 
decided to put all my energy into preparing for the trial.  I have 
applied and been accepted for the role of Prosecutor Royal."  The 
dreadful little man puffed up his chest and began almost strutting 
around the room.  "Yes, if I can't have my beloved Andalor back 
to normal, I can comfort myself with the knowledge that I have 
done everything in my power to bring Reinald to justice."
     "Then you have no doubt that Reinald did it?" Contempt 
hung on every one of Mulder's words.
     "None whatsoever,"   Drellor snapped.
     "Maybe you can help me, Drellor,"  said Scully.  "We're 
foreigners and not used to your ways.  What happens at the trial, 
and what will you do?  Prosecutor Royal sounds like a very 
powerful and responsible position."
     Drellor decided to ignore Mulder's presence in the room 
and just address himself to Scully, who obviously had much more 
respect for his position.  "My dear, it is, it is.  It will be my job
to 
present the Crown's case and to bring in witnesses who can help 
to show Reinald's guilt."
     "What witnesses?"   asked Scully, puzzled.   "I was 
under the impression that no one knew about it until the Prince 
was found hours later.  Of course, I only know what I hear 
around the castle, I'm sure you're privy to much more reliable 
information."
     "Well, no one saw the actual act itself, no, that's quite 
true.  But there's such a thing as intent, and that will go a long 
way to proving our case. We will have a very powerful and 
incriminating witness who can testify to the fact that Reinald had 
been working on this spell and spoke many times about how 
Andalor was a thorn in his side."  Drellor looked smug.
     "Well, you certainly seem to have thought of 
everything,"  Scully said, a look of admiration on her face.  "I'm 
so sorry we disturbed you.  I know you have a lot to do.  If you 
see Grejor, just tell him we're looking for him.  Thanks for your 
time."  She favored him with a lovely smile.
     "Goodbye, my dear.  You are welcome back any time."  
He emphasized the "you." Drellor bent over her hand once again.  
In a much colder tone, he said, "Goodbye, Mage Mulder."
     They walked in silence all the way back to their chamber 
before Mulder started chuckling.
     "Scully, that was absolutely the most disgusting display 
of fawning I think I have ever seen in my life.  I had no idea you 
were capable of such duplicity.  You may have missed your true 
calling on the stage.  Or possibly as a bunco artist.  I learn more 
fascinating things about you all the time.  Come here."  When she 
complied, he wrapped his arms around her.
     "A whole new slant on the Good Cop/Bad Cop 
routine," she agreed, looking up at him.  "Obsequious 
Cop/Contemptuous Cop maybe.  But we found out a couple 
things we didn't know before.  I would bet any amount of money 
that Grejor is the star prosecution witness..."
     "...and Drellor has him stashed away until the trial.  I 
think you're right,"  Mulder said, resting his cheek on her hair.  
"It certainly makes a lot of sense.  Grejor can testify that he saw 
Reinald practicing a spell to turn things to stone, and had been 
talking about how he wanted to exercise more power as Regent."  
Reluctantly, he let go of her - he needed to pace.  "I can't think of 
anyone else who would be such a strong witness.  But he'll be 
perjuring himself, Scully, and that might be our chance."
     "I hate to have it wait until the trial," replied Scully, 
uncomfortable with the prospect.  "That's cutting it awfully close.  
If for some reason the aural changes don't occur or aren't 
convincing, we don't have anything to fall back on, and almost no 
time to come up with anything else.  She added grimly, "It's not 
like there's a long appeals process here." 
     "No.  So Drellor is the Prosecutor," said Mulder 
thoughtfully.  "That might help us.  The man is clever, but not 
particularly intelligent, and his conceit is a huge weakness."
     Just then there was a knock at their door.  Mulder 
opened it to discover Tarnor, looking up at him anxiously.
     "Tarnor!  Come in."
     Scully began to prepare tea.  They had been in the 
Realm long enough now that they were starting to observe some 
of its customs.  One of the greatest breaches of Realm etiquette 
was not to offer tea to a guest.  Mulder seated Tarnor in one of 
the armchairs by the hearth, and brought over a wooden chair for 
himself.  Once tea had been made and served, the reason that had 
brought the little gargoyle to their chamber could be discussed.
     Tarnor accepted the mug gratefully and shifted in his 
chair.  "I've been named Defender Royal.  I'm not happy about it, 
but I can't think of anyone else to do it, and besides, Reinald 
asked me, so it's official.  Reinald said to talk to you, that you're 
trying to find out who really cast the spell on the Prince.  Have 
you found out anything?"  He looked at them hopefully.
     "We're working on it, Tarnor,"  Mulder said.  "We think 
we know who did it and why.  It's now a matter of getting proof, 
and we have a plan for that.  But I don't know if it will be 
enough.  From what Jourdain told us, the defense evidence has to 
be overwhelming.  I'm not sure we'll have that."
     Tarnor shook his head.  "Poor Jourdain.  He would 
rather cut his own throat than be in the position he's in right now.  
If it weren't for the incursion of the Dark Realm, he'd resign.  But 
he feels the Realm needs him, and it does.  I'll tell you this, if 
Reinald is found guilty and Jourdain must do his duty as Captain 
of the Royal Guard, it will be the end of him.  He'll lead the fight 
against the Dark Realm, but he won't survive it - he'll see to that."
     Scully nodded.  "I can't say I'm surprised to hear you say 
that.  You're right, of course - there's more than just Reinald's life 
at stake here.  With Reinald gone, no one is likely to be able to 
take the spell off the Prince, so in essence, he'll be dead.  And 
Jourdain."  She thought of Aldara.  If Jourdain fell on the field of 
battle, she knew that Aldara would follow him into death, at his 
side and taking as many of the enemy with her as possible.  She 
shook her head, trying to erase the picture.  She felt Mulder's 
mind give hers a reassuring squeeze.  "Well, we'll just have to 
come up with enough evidence to clear Reinald,"  she said with a 
confidence she didn't feel.
     Tarnor's face lightened a bit.  "Can you do that?  Who 
do you think enchanted the Prince?"
     "We're pretty sure it's Grejor,"  said Mulder.  Briefly he 
explained their reasoning and their plan for using Grejor's aural 
changes as evidence.  "Obviously, we'd prefer to find out before 
the trial starts if the plan will work by questioning him and having 
someone interpret his aura.  But Grejor seems to have 
disappeared."
     "Drellor's hiding him,'  Tarnor grunted.  "I'm sure of it.   
He's probably trying to keep him away from you."  He sat up and 
looked more animated than he had since arriving.  "I'll tell you 
something else - I've worked side by side with Grejor.  I probably 
know him better than anyone.  I'm going to give you a list of 
names - all Mages who aren't above dabbling in the Black Arts.  
Grejor won't have dreamed up that spell himself, he hasn't got the 
talent.  But he's perfectly capable of casting a spell that someone 
else has made up.  Grejor is terribly ambitious.  He was 
complaining to me one day a long time ago of the slow pace of 
his training, and muttered something about there being a faster 
way to get what he wanted.  I can't be sure, but I think the Black 
Arts is what he had in mind.  You'll need to be careful with these 
people, Mage Mulder.  They are not overwhelmingly powerful, 
but they are clever and unscrupulous."
     As Scully looked for parchment, ink and quill pen, 
Mulder said, "If we can trace the spell, that would help 
enormously.  What do you think the chances are of these people 
cooperating?"
     Tarnor shrugged.  He accepted the writing materials 
from Scully and started to jot down names.  "I don't know.   It's 
hard to say.  Perhaps better than we expect, especially if Grejor 
has done something to anger them.  Such as inviting the scrutiny 
of a Mage asking all sorts of difficult questions."  He handed the 
list to Mulder and wiggled down from the chair.  "Remember, use 
great care and watch your back.  Be ready for anything with 
these people."
     The little being started for the door.  "Thank you.  
You've raised my spirits already.  I actually think we may have a 
chance now."  He flashed them the alarming gargoyle grin, and 
left.
     "What are your plans now?  Are you going to check out 
that list?"  Scully asked.
     "No, I have some research to do, a little assignment 
from Reinald,"  Mulder said.  Scully looked at him.  She couldn't 
believe he wouldn't want to start investigating Tarnor's list 
immediately.  Mulder shook his head.  "Remember when he 
communicated with me immediately before we left his chambers?  
He made me promise to make this a priority - looking for a way 
to reverse the spell on the Prince.  He told me that nothing, not 
even his defense, was to come before this."
     "But, Mulder,"  argued Scully, "If we put all our energy 
into finding the person who put the spell on the Prince, we'll have 
a better idea of how to reverse it."
     "That's true only if the guilty party - as we believe, 
Grejor - decides to confess all and cooperate in reversing the 
spell.  Certainly that would be the best solution to the problem.  
However, Reinald was of the opinion that we're likely not to have 
that kind of cooperation,  and it may be up to us to find a way.  
I'll start checking out the names on the list tomorrow.  What are 
you going to do?"
     "Do you want me to start checking on some of those 
names?"
     "Absolutely not, Scully.  When we go, it will be 
together.  As it is, when we go tomorrow, I'm going to have to 
provide a little supernatural protection for us - I wouldn't trust 
these characters as far as I could throw them."
     "In that case, I have a lesson with Corvay, if you don't 
need me for anything else.  If Wide River was any example, 
there's a lot more about healing I have to learn,"  Scully said, 
suppressing a shudder.  "Let me know if Grejor turns up or 
anything important happens, okay?"
     Mulder looked up from the list and smiled warmly at her 
- a smile that touched not only his eyes, but his mind, and hers as 
well.  "See you back here for dinner?"
     Nodding, she returned his smile, caressing his mind.  
Then she was out the door.
                         
                   -----------------


     With a terrific headache and profound tiredness, Scully 
finally sank onto a stool.  Corvay had been at it for hours, 
teaching her the chants and stasis spells and other healing 
techniques reserved for those with the most severe injuries.  She 
felt more prepared for the upcoming carnage now, while hating 
the fact that it was necessary.  Her next lesson would be more 
difficult still - learning the release chants which would quickly 
exchange pointless agonized suffering for peaceful death.  
Wordlessly, she accepted the mug of tea Corvay handed her and 
took the first scalding sip, eagerly anticipating the resulting 
spread of warmth and energy.  She sighed.
     "You did well, my dear, very well.  Learn these chants 
and you will be a Healer in every way my equal."  Corvay looked 
at her anxiously.  "I'm not going too fast, driving you too hard, 
am I?" 
     "No, Healer,"  she half-smiled at him.  "Unfortunately, 
it's necessary.  We don't have any idea how much time we have 
before the invasion of the Dark Realm forces starts in earnest.   
We have to be ready."
     "Your healing skills will be....  Scully, are you all right?"  
The little elf went to her side in response to her look of 
concentration and concern.
     "Yes."  Scully took a deep breath.  "Yes, I'm fine.  
Corvay, we need to get to where Reinald is imprisoned, right 
away.  Mulder is on his way there.  Something's wrong with 
Reinald, Mulder doesn't know what, but he thinks it may be 
serious.  We need to get there now!"
     The two moved as fast as Corvay's short little legs could 
carry him, running along hallways and down staircases for what 
seemed like miles, before finally descending the last staircase and 
arriving in the dungeon.   Mulder had gotten there before them 
and was in the process of interrogating one of the guards.   The 
atmosphere felt electrically charged and damp.  Scully looked 
around and up at the ceiling, then mentally reminded Mulder to 
shield.   He caught her eyes, nodding almost imperceptibly, and 
paused a second to do so.  The climate started to change 
immediately.  He broke away from the guard and approached her, 
as Corvay scurried into the open door of Reinald's cell..
     "Mulder, what happened?"   Scully said anxiously.
     "I was reading when I suddenly heard Reinald talking to 
me, saying he had been drugged.  By the time he realized it 
himself, he was almost in a stupor. I contacted you and I 
followed his thoughts to him as far as I could, then he lost 
consciousness.   Then I had to get directions for the rest of the 
way here.  When I got here he was comatose and unresponsive."
     "Did he have any idea who did this to him?"
     Mulder shook his head.  "No, he had just had some tea, 
it must have been in that.  He didn't see or hear anything out of 
the ordinary.  According to the guards, the first they knew 
anything was wrong was when I got here and started yelling at 
them to let me into his cell.   Jourdain should be on his way."
     Scully and Mulder went into Reinald's cell.  Corvay was 
bent over him, his face twisted in concentration.  Impatiently they 
waited for his assessment.  Finally the little healer dropped 
Reinald's hand and opened his eyes. He picked up the tea cup by 
the side of the bed and delicately sniffed at it, then put it down.  
Standing, he motioned them out of the cell.
     "He's in a deep coma.  I have identified the herbal 
involved.  As you may have suspected, it was introduced into his 
tea.  It's relatively rare, but I am familiar with its properties.  
Reinald will need watching, but the best treatment is for him to 
simply sleep it off."  Corvay looked from Mulder to Scully.  "I 
could attempt to erase or reverse the effects, but such treatment 
isn't normally used and can have some dangerous side effects.  If 
there is no pressing need for him to be conscious, I would 
suggest we allow him to sleep.  I will stay here with him, just in 
case."
     "Could this drug have killed him?"  Mulder asked the 
healer.
     "It's unlikely.  It could have, but that would be 
unexpected.  Even at quite high doses, the effect seems to be 
more or less the same, the length of the coma is the only variant."
     "How long do you think this will last?"
     Corvay considered.  "From the amount I deduce he has 
ingested, I would not expect him to be back to normal for three 
or four days. If he had finished that cup of tea, he would have 
been out for five or six days."
     "In other words, almost until the trial," said Mulder.
      Corvay nodded.  "He may have very brief periods of 
sentience starting probably the day after tomorrow.   I would 
prefer to use those times for giving him fluids, rather than having 
him talk, unless it is critical."  He looked at Mulder.
     "No, Corvay, you take care of him.  Whatever you say is 
fine."  He lowered his voice.  "Actually, we made plans before he 
was arrested to deal with this eventuality.  I would suggest that 
from now on his food and drink is tested."
     "While Scully is here and can stay with Reinald, I'll go 
back and fetch the teas and potions I will need from my 
workroom.  We won't trust anything that doesn't come from 
there."
     "Good plan,"  said Mulder.  Scully went into Reinald's 
cell to watch over him and Corvay left to fetch supplies from his 
workroom.  A deep growling voice came from the staircase and 
preceded the entry of Jourdain.
     "I had a few words with the Healer.   I gather the news 
is not serious?"   Jourdain said.
     "Serious enough.  But I don't think anyone wanted to 
kill Reinald,"  Mulder said slowly.  "Certainly if they had wanted 
to they could have.  But for some reason they didn't."
     "Then why would anyone do such a thing?"  Jourdain 
demanded.  "Reinald wasn't going anywhere."
     "I think to prevent his communicating with me.   We 
kept up a telepathic communication from the time of his arrest - I 
could ask his advice, he could give me information.  Obviously, 
someone thought that was dangerous."  Mulder paused.  
"Whoever it was seems certain that Reinald will be found guilty.  
Otherwise, I think they would have just slipped him a lethal dose 
of poison and been done with it.  Whoever drugged him wants 
him to go through the torment of the trial and execution, wants 
him to die in shame.  And that, Jourdain, speaks of someone with 
a lot of hatred for Reinald."
     The Captain grunted.  "Do you know who did it?"   
     
     "We're working on it and I think we're getting pretty 
close,"  Mulder said encouragingly.  "Certainly this attack on 
Reinald is a sign that someone is worried about what we might 
find out."
     "May the gods prove you right, Mage," Jourdain sighed.  
"I don't know how I'll get through this if he is found guilty."
     "I know.  We're doing everything we can.  Tarnor gave 
us some more information that may prove valuable."  Mulder 
smiled.  "We have a plan.  Try not to worry."
     Jourdain shrugged.  "I think I'll sit by my old friend a 
while."
     Mulder nodded.  Scully stepped out of the cell to give 
him some privacy.  The grizzled soldier had seemed close to tears 
when he entered the cell.  Answering her unspoken question, 
Mulder said, "It could have been Grejor, it's hard to say.  Could 
have been one of Drellor's lackeys, too.  I don't think we'll ever 
prove it either way.  Reinald didn't know who slipped him the 
drug, I'm certain of that."
     Corvay returned with Aldara in tow, both loaded down 
with pots and jars and kettles.  "I have everything I'll need for the 
next three days.  After that, I'll need someone to go back for 
more supplies.  Scully?"
     "I'll be happy to, Healer,"  Scully replied.
     Corvay nodded, then entered Reinald's cell and started 
unpacking his potions.  Aldara put down what she had carried 
into the cell and stood looking at Jourdain for a few minutes.  He 
appeared to have turned to stone himself as he sat by his friend's 
bedside, holding his hand.  She walked out of the cell and over to 
Scully and Mulder.
     "Scully, would you walk with me back to my quarters?  
I need to ask your advice about something."  Aldara's voice was 
uncharacteristically tentative and her eyes reddened.
     "Sure, give me just a second."  The half elf moved away 
to the staircase.  "Mulder, I'd better go, she seems really upset,"  
Scully whispered, searching his face.  "Do you mind?"
     "Of course not, go."  Mulder smoothed back some hair 
that had escaped from her braid.  "I'll be leaving here shortly 
anyway, there's not much I can do.  I'll just go back to our room.  
We probably missed Lita - she'll have set out supper by now."
     "Go ahead and eat without me.  I don't know how long 
this will take.  Just save me some and I'll have it when I get 
back."  She sent him a more personal farewell along their mind 
link and reached up to touch his cheek.  He captured her hand 
and held it there for a few seconds, sending his own message.  
She blushed lightly and smiled, then joined Aldara and the two 
left.
     Mulder strolled into Reinald's cell.  Jourdain hadn't 
moved a muscle.  He squatted down next to the healer and spoke 
in a very low voice.  "Corvay?  I'm going now.  Send a guard for 
me if you need me for anything.  Let me know if his condition 
worsens, all right?  And you might suggest to Jourdain to limit 
access down here to only those we know we can trust."
     "Don't worry Mage, Reinald will do fine."  Corvay 
turned his head to observe the scene at the bedside.  "He's doing 
better than Jourdain," he remarked with sympathy.
     There was no adequate reply to make.  Mulder merely 
nodded and then made his way out of the dungeon.
                         - - - - -

     Lita had indeed already prepared their chamber for night 
when he got back.  The torches were lit, a fire blazed in the 
fireplace, and the table was set for dinner.  He lifted the lid of the 
pot set on the hearth coals - looked like some kind of soup.  He 
sniffed it appreciatively.  Lately his appetite had been enormous.  
Rather inconvenient, with the food shortages becoming worse 
and worse.  There's your incredible timing again, Mulder, he said 
to himself.
     He ladled out some soup and sipped several spoonfuls 
of the hot, savory liquid.  The edge off his hunger, he now took 
the time to pick up the knife and start slicing the warm loaf of 
black bread on the cutting board.  After the fifth slice, he put the 
knife down and flexed his right hand.  Strange, he thought.  The 
pins and needles sensation in his hand and the numbness in his 
fingertips must be some kind of side effect to Gate building - little 
wonder, all that raw energy coursing down his arms and out his 
fingers.  He picked up a slice of bread and munched on it 
thoughtfully for a minute or two.  It was as he lifted the spoon to 
his lips again that the first pain hit him.
     "Aaaaghh!"  Mulder's face contorted in torment as a 
spasm twisted his stomach, leaving him shaking and sweating 
when it passed a few seconds or an eternity later.  He struggled 
for breath, feeling like he couldn't get enough air.  Now both 
hands felt numb, and his lips and his feet.  He focused his 
thoughts.  "Scully, I need you...poison...."  He got no further.  
This time the pain drove him to his knees, leaving him helpless to 
do anything other than grab his abdomen and scream in agony.  
His chest got tighten and tighter, until it was just too hard to fight 
against the pain and the tightness anymore, and he welcomed 
oblivion as a friend.
                         - - - - -


     "Aldara, the only thing you can do is to be there for 
him."  Scully sat across the table from her friend, rubbing her 
right hand absently.  "It's thankless, it's one of the hardest things 
you'll ever do, but you can't force the issue.  He'll just freeze you 
out.  When he's ready and he needs you enough, he'll come to 
you and you'll be there for him."  Scully looked at her friend with 
sympathy.  "Believe me, I've been there and I know."
     Aldara smiled sadly.   "I just wish I could do more."
     Scully nodded.  "I know exactly -"
     Suddenly she went dead white and grabbed her 
midsection, barely containing a scream of pain.
     "Oh, God, Mulder!"  she breathed.  As much as she 
hated herself for it, she shielded herself from him.  She couldn't 
help him if she were writhing on the floor, sharing his agony.  
"Aldara, get Corvay, quick!  Mulder's been poisoned and I think 
he's dying.  Bring Corvay to our chamber.  Go!"
     She ran until her sides ached and her lungs burned.  She 
burst into their chamber and to Mulder's side on the floor by the 
table.  He was unconscious, cyanotic and barely breathing, 
twitching from time to time as spasms continued to wrack his 
body.
     Damn, Mulder, don't die, please, she pleaded.  She 
started mouth to mouth resuscitation, seeing his color improve 
slightly after a few minutes.  In contact with him, she entered his 
mind and body as a healer, easily finding the toxins that were 
ravaging his body.  Plant alkaloids.  Neurotoxins.  Probably from 
poisonous mushrooms.  I can do this, she told herself.  I've 
learned this.  Frantically, she mentally searched through her 
repertoire of healing spells and chants, looking for the one which 
would eliminate this poison. She seized on it, gave Mulder a few 
more breaths, then started the chant.  She didn't notice when 
Corvay and Aldara ran breathless into the room.  She noticed 
only that another voice took up the chant, adding strength, 
helping her first to visualize, then to destroy the toxins that were 
killing her life-bondmate.
     Aldara put the potion they had brought with them onto 
the fire to heat.  All three would need the restorative when the 
chant was finished.  She looked at the Mage.   He had lost the 
alarming blue color he had when they arrived and seemed to be 
breathing by himself now.  He and the healers continued to 
endure spasms of pain which occasionally wrung an involuntary 
gasp from them.  Finally, after more than an hour, the chant 
slowed to a stop, and the healers sagged with exhaustion.  
Mulder lay pale and quiet on the floor, breathing normally.
     Aldara pulled on the braided cord on the wall.  Within a 
minute or two Lita was there.  Together they got Mulder into 
bed.  Then they assisted the healers to armchairs and poured the
restorative potion.  They held the cups to the healers' lips until 
they had regained enough strength to drink unassisted.      
     Eyes blazing, Aldara turned on Lita.  "Tell me about 
your dinner preparations.  Did they include poison?"
     Lita drew back, horrified at first, then the elven temper 
flared.  She met Aldara's glare and snapped, "I prepared the food 
and the room as I always do.  No one was here, so I have no 
witnesses.  But I didn't do it!  The Travellers are my 
responsibility.  Whoever did this has made me their enemy, and I 
will see to it that they pay dearly."
     "Aldara, Lita didn't do it,"  Scully said wearily.  "She has 
no reason to do it. We're often not here when she prepares the 
room for the night.  There's no lock on the door, anyone could 
have come in and added the poison to the soup."
     Corvay piped up.   "Especially if they knew that you 
would be occupied elsewhere.  This may have been another 
reason for drugging Reinald - to make sure you would be out of 
the room so there would be an opportunity to poison the food."  
He paused.  "Scully, someone hates Mage Mulder.  This is one of 
the most painful poisons in our world, and from the amount in his 
bloodstream, there was enough to kill him ten times over.  
Whoever did this wanted him to die horribly."
     Staring into the fire, Scully just nodded.  To reassure 
herself more than for any other reason,  she touched Mulder's 
mind gently and felt only refreshing, dreamless sleep.  No pain.  
She took a deep breath and tried to stop her hands from shaking.
     "Scully, I'm going unless you need me,"  Aldara said in a 
low voice.  "I'll tell Jourdain what happened."
     Again, Scully nodded.  Tearing her eyes from the fire, 
she looked at her and said, "Thanks, Aldara, for everything.  And 
good luck."
     Aldara smiled and left.  Lita started clearing away the 
supper things, her eyes suspiciously bright.
     "Lita, are you all right?"
     The elf nodded and bit her lip.  "I'm just so sorry."
     "It wasn't your fault, Lita,"  Scully said firmly.  
"Everything's fine now.  If you want to help, you could bring us 
more food, and some tea.  I don't trust the tea that's here."
     Happy to be able to do something useful, Lita cleared 
the remains of the food that had been left for Mulder and bustled 
out.
     In the companionable silence, in the calm that followed 
the frantic activity to save Mulder's life, the inevitable reaction 
began to set in and some slow tears made their way down 
Scully's cheeks.  Corvay, concerned, reached out and took her 
hand.  Scully wiped the tears away with the back of her other 
hand.  "Don't mind me, Corvay, I usually get shaky after the 
fireworks are over."  She tried to smile, but her chin started to 
quiver.   "It was so close," she whispered, the tears threatening 
once again.
     Corvay held her for a few minutes, reaching in, touching 
her mind, bolstering it with the support of friendship and a 
healing chant.  Scully sighed, and smiled.
     "Thanks don't seem enough but they're all I have.  
Thank you for Mulder's life,'  she said simply.  "You'd probably 
better get back to your other patient now."
     He got down from the chair.  "You're a true healer now, 
Scully.  You did everything perfectly, including pulling down 
your own shield.  If you hadn't, you'd both be dead, you know 
that, don't you?"  She nodded.  Corvay continued, "Anyway, I 
didn't save him.  You did.  I'll check with you in the morning to 
see how he's doing."
     As the healer went out the door, Lita came in, carrying a 
pot of soup, bread, tea, and several delicacies they hadn't seen in 
quite some time.
     "Don't worry, Traveller.  I have tasted all this food 
myself, and it is safe.  I found a few of his favorites, maybe it will 
tempt him to eat again."
     "Thank you, Lita.  You're a lifesaver."  She smiled 
warmly at the servant as she left.
     When Lita had gone, she went to Mulder's bedside and 
checked him.  She could have done it psychically from across the 
room, but suddenly needed the reassurance of seeing him with 
her eyes and touching him with her hands.  Satisfied he was doing 
well, she sat at the table and forced the first few bites down her 
throat.  Then she found she was really quite hungry, and ate well.  
She saved half the food and made some daytime tea, feeling she 
needed the energy.  She heard Mulder stirring, and poured some 
restorative potion into a cup and brought it to him.
     His eyes were open and he was attempting to sit up.  He 
was pale, drawn and weak, but otherwise showed no sign of how 
close he had come to death only a couple of hours before.
     "Let me help."  Scully assisted him to sit up and 
propped his back with pillows.  She kept a steadying hand on the 
cup as he lifted it shakily to his lips.  "Do you remember what 
happened?"
     He looked up at her from under his lashes.  "Only too 
well - eidetic memory, remember?" he said weakly, with a fair 
attempt at a smile.  Then he sobered.  "Unbelievable pain, and I 
couldn't breathe, and I called you, and - and then you shut down 
on me, Dana.  Why?"  His eyes weren't accusing, they merely 
reflected hurt.
     "It was the hardest thing I ever did, Mulder,"  she 
whispered, crawling into bed beside him.  "I felt like I was 
abandoning you.  But you weren't shielding at all.   Even before 
you called to me, I was having the same  pain and difficulty 
breathing you were having.  I couldn't help you that way, I 
couldn't even move.  I knew I had to get here and get into a 
healing mode.  I didn't WANT to drop that shield, I HAD to, or 
neither of us would have survived."  She looked at him anxiously.
     He took her hand and kissed the palm.  "I'm sorry.  I 
should have known it was something like that.  I wasn't thinking 
too clearly at the time."  She wasn't shielding now, and Mulder 
saw only too clearly what was going through her mind.  "No!   
Dana, no!"  he said, appalled.
     She didn't pretend not to understand him.  "I only 
thought about it for a second, when I first found you.  It  just 
flashed into my mind how hard it would be to go on if...if you 
died.  And how easy it would be...just to remove my shield while 
you were dying, and...and be with you.  But it was only for a 
moment, Mulder...I - I don't think I would have done it."
     Mulder looked shaken.  "This is the kind of thing I've 
been afraid of since the first time Reinald mentioned this life-
bond.  Is that possible - that just by not shielding yourself, you 
could die as well?"
     She nodded.  "Corvay has been extremely informative 
on the subject.  Theoretically, you could shield, if you were in 
any condition to do so, to try to prevent my being with you.  But 
yes, it's not only possible, it's often what happens among life-
bondmates, especially those who have been validated for a long 
time.  The whole concept of life without the other becomes, over 
time,  unthinkable.  In some cases, physically impossible."
     Mulder took her hands in his.  "Dana, you've got to 
promise me you'll never seriously consider doing anything like 
that ever again.  Promise me that if anything happens to me, 
you'll shield yourself, you'll go on."
     She regarded him quietly for several moments.  "Can 
you honestly promise me the same thing?"
     For a long time he was motionless, eyes down, focused 
on nothing in particular while he considered his thoughts.  When 
he did raise his eyes, it was to look directly into hers. "No, I 
can't.  I can't promise that."
     She shrugged and sadly smiled.
                         - - - - -


     Mulder was up even before Lita arrived the next 
morning.  Most of the ill-effects from the previous day were 
gone.  Last night he had nibbled at some of the food Lita had 
brought, but had not eaten much, his lack of appetite stemming 
less from his being poisoned than it did the conversation he had 
had with Scully.  He had always considered the bond in terms of 
what losing her would do to him emotionally.  He hadn't seriously 
considered what it might do to her emotionally, or what it could 
do physically to either one of them.  Now there was a whole new 
set of life-defining questions and decisions, things that they 
needed to come to terms with quickly in view of the perilous 
times.  He had slept little, with long periods of tossing and 
turning, the life-bond - or death-bond - issue churning in his 
mind.  His only respite had been the times when he had reached 
for her and they had made love with an almost manic passion, so 
mindful were they of what they had nearly lost.
     He had washed and dressed and was seated in an 
armchair, checking through one of Reinald's tomes on spells 
when Lita tapped and entered.  She took in the shadowy shape of 
Scully through the filmy bedcurtains, and quietly made her way 
down the length of the room to the hearth.
     "It's good to see you up, Mage, I hope you're feeling 
better.  I've brought breakfast, and it's been tested,"  Lita 
whispered, laying the food on the table.
     "Thanks, Lita.  No bath this morning, I've already 
washed,"  he responded in a low voice, and gave her a brief smile 
that did not quite reach his eyes.
     "Is there something wrong, Mage?  You seem - not 
yourself this morning, if you'll forgive my saying so."
     "Just a little tired, Lita.   Don't worry about it."
     "Very well.  I'll be back later to clean up."  The little elf 
quietly closed the door behind her.
     Mulder poured tea and absently ate some bread and 
fruit, never looking up from his scrutiny of the book until he felt 
Scully's presence behind him.  She leaned over and put her arms 
around his neck, stroking his cheek with her own.  He closed the 
book, turned, and his strong arms drew her into his lap.
     For a long time neither of them said anything.  Although 
neither was shielding, they did not seek each other's thoughts, 
perhaps already knowing what they were, perhaps discomfited 
enough by their own.
     "I'm so scared, Dana,"  Mulder mumbled into her hair.  
"I'm so scared of losing you."
     "I know, love.  Me, too."   Scully caressed his cheek, 
and they were quiet for a while.  Some minutes passed, then she 
said softly,  "I read a line in a book once that I've always 
remembered.   I don't know what the title of the book was or the 
story or anything else, but I've always remembered the line, 
which said 'The only sin love can commit is to be joyless'. "   She 
paused for a few seconds.  "We can't let our fear of losing each 
other take away the joy, Mulder.  If we do, there's no point to the 
life-bond, there's no point to anything."  She looked up at him, 
her eyes peaceful.
     He entered her mind then, seeking the calm, the serenity 
that was reflected in her eyes, letting the reason of her mind 
nurture and comfort his, drawing on her courage to sustain him. 
They remained motionless, locked in each other's embrace, 
locked in each other's mind.  Finally, Mulder sighed, with joy and 
contentment this time, and kissed her lips gently.
     "You need to eat.  Lita will be back soon and we have 
to hit the road.  Before we go, I have to do a little spell casting.  
I've just been looking for the best one for our purposes."
     Scully gave him a little squeeze, then moved to the table 
and started eating.  "Where are we going first?"
     "Well, Tarnor annotated his list.   He seemed to think 
our best bet is someone called Baalmas in the elven village of 
Wishalla, which isn't too far from here.  Scully, I want you to go 
armed.  I have no idea what to expect, but I want to be prepared 
for anything.  If nothing else, maybe we can do a 'little winning 
through intimidation'.  I don't for a moment think anyone is going 
to confess they made up the spell for Grejor, not unless they have 
some kind of death wish.  It may be enough just to find out 
Grejor was nosing around about such a spell, and hopefully find 
out something about it so we can figure out how to remove it."
     Scully hurried finished her breakfast, washed and 
dressed.  She strapped on her sword and stuck her dagger down 
her right boot.  "Okay, Mulder, I'm ready."
     He, too, was ready, just finishing buckling the clasp of 
his Mage cloak.  "I shouldn't say so, but I hate this thing.  It gets 
twisted around my legs, I can't mount my horse properly, and it's 
so damn ostentatious.  But I suppose I have to dress the part.  
Okay, Scully, stand directly in front of me.  I have carefully 
researched and come up with a little something that I think will 
assist us to 'watch our backs' as Tarnor so helpfully suggested."
     His eyes on Reinald's book propped on the table, he 
spread his arms wide with his hands up.  In the long cloak, he 
reminded Scully strongly of the priests she had watched in her 
youth from a rear pew of a crowded church.  He muttered the 
incantation. The electric-blue flames coursed down his body and 
up his arms to arc between his upraised hands and enclose the 
two of them in a cocoon of power.  Scully felt a tingling 
sensation all over her body and shivered a little.  Finally, as 
Mulder's incantation wound to a close, the electric blue faded to 
almost white, adding what appeared to be another layer to their 
auras.  The tingling sensation remained, though at a less irritating 
level.
     Mulder opened his eyes and lowered his arms.  "That 
should do it."
     "How long will it last?"  asked Scully.  "And what 
precisely is it supposed to do?"
     "Theoretically, it's supposed to act as a kind of shield, 
preventing most things from getting through - tangible things like 
knives as well as intangible things like spells.  It should last until 
the sun goes down, at least if I've read Reinald's book correctly.  
Sometimes some of the language is kind of representational or 
symbolic, so it's hard to tell.  Ready?"
     "'Theoretically', Mulder?"
     He smiled at her.
     They went down to the stables to get their horses.  After 
a good-natured argument about who was going to be responsible 
for navigation, Scully got directions for finding all the places on 
Tarnor's list.  At least as far as she was concerned, this 
significantly increased their chances of being back at the castle 
before the spell wore off.
                         
                   -----------------


     The village of Wishalla was an hour's easy ride away.   
The weather had turned grayer, colder and windier in the past 
several weeks, and Mulder and Scully were looking forward to 
the inevitable tea when they arrived.  Following custom, they 
stopped first at the house of the village chief to announce their 
arrival, offer their good wishes and state their business.  After tea 
was served, they asked for the location of Baalmas' house.  The 
elf chief's eyebrows drew together in a fierce scowl and he spat 
on the dirt floor.  "By your aura, Mage, you are honorable and 
powerful.  Why would you want to have anything to do with 
Baalmas?"
     Mulder soothed the chief and got the directions he was 
looking for.  The elf concluded his meeting with them as quickly 
as hospitality would allow.   "Not a popular guy, this Baalmas, "  
Mulder commented to Scully.
     They were approaching the outskirts of the village, and 
easily found Baalmas' hut.  Scully insisted on preceding Mulder 
into the windowless hovel.  Inside, it was dark and there was a 
pervasive rank odor, an odor of dead things.  They found the 
Mage looking over some books by the light of a single candle.  
He was tiny, even for an elf, but had a dissipated look about him 
they had yet to see in the Realm.  His appearance was not helped 
by the fact that he was missing his left eye.
     He ignored them for as long as he dared, then turned to 
Mulder.  "To what do I owe this honor?" he sneered.
     "We're looking for information.  Information that I think 
it would be in your best interest to share with us," Mulder began.
     "And what makes you think it's in my interest to share 
anything with you?" snapped Baalmas.
     "I know Reinald had nothing to do with the Prince's 
spell.  When he is released, he's going to be very angry with the 
people responsible - very angry indeed.  Together our powers are 
formidable, as you can imagine.  I think you'll rest easier, 
knowing that you cooperated."  Mulder regarded him blandly.
     Baalmas looked at the him, considered the power of his 
aura, and Reinald's reputation.  He picked up a cup and hurled it 
in frustration across the room to smash against a wall.  The 
suddenness and violence of his action alarmed Scully, who pulled 
her dagger and had it at Baalmas' throat almost before the shards 
of the cup had hit the floor.  His one eye bulged out of his head 
and he babbled in terror.
     "No, please, spare me, Mage.  Call off this warrior.  
Please, I'll tell you what I know."
     Mulder signed to Scully and she shoved Baalmas onto 
the one chair in the room.  He nervously licked his lips.
     "Someone from the castle came to me many days ago, 
seeking a spell that could render someone ineffective.  I know 
such spells, but I didn't trust this person not to give me away, so I 
refused to help him."
     "Who was it?  Was it Mage-Apprentice Grejor?'  
demanded Scully.
      He looked at her for a few seconds and finally nodded.  
"Yes.  He didn't tell me the intended recipient of the spell and I 
didn't want to know.  The less I know, the better.  Anyway, he 
got no spell from me."
     "So who did you send him to see?" asked Mulder.
     Baalmas looked at him resentfully, then mumbled a 
name.  "Zoalstra.  I told him to go to Zoalstra.  She's mad, it 
would never even occur to her to fear for her life.  She'd cast 
such a spell for any reason or for none, it makes no difference to 
her."
     "Where can we find Zoalstra?"
     "The last I heard she was in Blackforest Township, half 
a day's ride from here.  Just don't tell her that I sent you.  She's 
mad, she'd turn me into a bug just for the fun of it."  He 
shuddered.
     "Our silence depends on your cooperation," said Scully.  
"We want you at the trial.  You may not even have to testify, but 
we want you there.  It starts in five days.  If we do not see you 
there, you won't have to worry about this Zoalstra turning you 
into a bug" - she indicated Mulder -  "he'll do it himself, and save 
her the trouble.  Do we understand each other?"
     His expression made his hatred of them quite clear, but 
he grudgingly nodded.  "Aye, I'll be there."
     They left the hovel and walked back into the village.  
"So what was that, Scully - Bad Cop/Bad Cop?"  He smiled over 
at her.
     She shrugged.  "Don't argue with success, Mulder."
     Not trusting Baalmas' directions, they confirmed the 
way to Blackforest Township by asking the village chief and set 
out immediately.  They made good time and arrived in the mid 
afternoon.  Finding Zoalstra was more of a problem, as the 
inhabitants of the gargoyle settlement appeared terrified of her 
and were reluctant to point them in her direction.  Finally, a few 
folk were convinced by the power of Mulder's aura and they were 
directed to the hut.
     If anything, Zoalstra's hut made Baalmas' look like a 
palace.  There was a pall of pure evil in and about the place, a 
stomach-turning stench that nothing could eradicate.  Nothing 
within a hundred feet of the hut lived - not a tree, not an insect, 
not a blade of grass.  The gargoyle looked normal enough, except 
for the lunatic glint in her eye.
     "And what can I do for you, Mage?  Come to trade 
spells with me, perhaps?"  She chuckled nastily.
     "We've come to ask if you assisted an acquaintance of 
ours with a spell,"  Mulder said.
     "Oh, I assist many.  Perhaps if you described him..."
     "A young human, smaller than me.  Brown hair, brown 
eyes.  From Fairwood Keep."
     At the last clue, her eyes flickered with recognition.  "I 
do seem to recall someone like that.  Now what did he need help 
with?"  Seeing she had their complete attention, she was not 
about to lose it.  "What was it, now - maybe help finding a lost 
valuable, perhaps.  No, no that wasn't it.  What was it?"  She 
continued to play the kindly eccentric, stringing them along.  
Finally, Scully tired of it and began to investigate some of the 
objects in the hovel.
     "Now what was it, if I could only remem-  Hey, what is 
it you're doing there?  Stay away from my things!"  Her voice had 
risen to a scream that could shatter glass.
     "Mulder, take a look."  Scully removed the lid from a 
tiny pot to reveal what looked like several human eyeballs.
     "No!  Leave that alone - you'll spoil it!"  The infuriated 
gargoyle began to shriek.  "Get out!  You've ruined it, it's no 
good anymore.  You'll pay.  I'll see to it you pay!"
     Moving like lightning, she pickled up a long thin knife 
from the table and threw it at Scully's back.  Scully reacted 
quickly and dived for cover while withdrawing her own dagger.  
But the stiletto struck Scully's spell-enhanced aura and ricocheted 
back at Zoalstra.  The blade stuck her mid-chest with such force 
that she was pinned to the wall behind her.  She died 
immediately.
     "You alright, Scully?'  asked Mulder anxiously.
     "Yeah."  Scully removed the stiletto from the wall and 
the gargoyle's body slumped to the floor.  "She won't make much 
of  witness, however."
     "No,"  admitted Mulder, looking at the black magician's 
body distastefully.  "But then again, I don't think she would have 
anyway, even if she had been alive.  And we may have just done 
this settlement a service.  We'd better go find the chief and tell 
him what happened."
     The explanation didn't take long, and Mulder had 
correctly deduced the village's reaction.  General rejoicing broke 
out as the word spread.  Mulder and Scully were showered with 
food and flasks of tea for the journey back to Fairwoods.  
Zoalstra's body and her hovel were set ablaze.
     They lost no time in setting out.  There was no way now 
that they would be back at the castle before dark, a fact which 
worried Scully greatly.  After two hours they stopped by the side 
of a small creek to rest and water the horses while there was still 
a little light, and had some tea and food themselves.  When the 
last rays of the sun faded from view, they remounted and urged 
their horses into a fast trot down the narrow road illuminated by 
the two moons.
     They were nearly back at Fairwoods when Scully 
noticed that her skin was no longer tingling.  "Mulder?"
     "I know.  I would guess that we're no longer shielded.  
Well, it was nice while it lasted."
Mulder glanced at Scully, who was suddenly alert and looking 
around.  "What is it?"
     Scully drew her sword and said grimly,  "I think it's 
soul-eaters.  I can't see or hear them, but I can feel their presence. 

Let's get going, Mulder."
     The horses needed little urging to break into a gallop; 
they has also sensed the creatures.   They outran the pack and 
eventually slowed, only to sense another.
     "What the hell is going on?  They shouldn't be this close 
to the castle,"  Scully murmured.  Again they spurred their 
horses.  This time, however, before they outran the second pack, 
they had picked up a third.  The battlements of the castle were in 
sight when suddenly, they were running for their lives.
     Scully's horse screamed as two soul-eaters converged on 
it, their claws raking its flanks.  Her sword flashed, decapitating 
one of the monsters and slashing the other deeply across its ribs.  
Mulder concentrated what energy he could while riding at a 
gallop, stunning two more of the creatures and having the 
satisfaction of seeing them drop in their tracks.  The last soul-
eater persisted in chasing them all the way to the castle portcullis, 
when Scully turned in her saddle and impaled it on her sword.  
She tipped the weapon, letting the creature's body slide to the 
ground, even while her horse never broke stride in its race to get 
through the portcullis to safety.  They flew through the gate 
which crashed down behind them, and slid to a stop in the 
courtyard.     
     They dismounted, dirty, disheveled and panting.  Mulder 
looked at Scully, liberally splashed with the blood of soul-eaters, 
her hair, freed from its braid, wild around her face.  
     "I'll say this, Scully - a date with you is never boring."

                         
                   -----------------


     As the day of the trial approached, Fairwoods Keep was 
filled to bursting.  For days there had been a constant parade of 
Council Representatives and their entourages arriving at the 
castle, needing food, shelter and stabling.  Many of the 
Representatives were accompanied by hundreds of kinsmen, 
militia members and camp followers, sometimes in an attempt to 
impress onlookers and rivals with mere numbers, but more often 
simply for security during the trip. As Mulder and Scully had 
found, the woods were alive with soul-eaters.  The 
Representatives of other species who had come the furthest 
distance had brought their entire armies with them, realizing that 
the time was soon approaching when their armies would be 
activated and called to Fairwood for deployment on the field of 
battle.  Everyone felt the spectre of the Prophecy and knew that 
time was short before the Realm would be forced to fight for its 
survival.  
     Prince Mavor was one such leader.  An elven Prince 
who had journeyed two hundred miles to attend the Council, he 
would have been making his way to Fairwoods in any case.  His 
fine-boned, almost gaunt, aristocratic features were calm and 
serious as he and his general Karvan led hundreds of elven 
cavalry troops, clothed in yellow leather and silver armor.  Elves 
were famed for their horsemanship both on and off the field of 
battle, and the addition of these troops would give Jourdain one 
more force for the Dark Realm to reckon with.
     Meanwhile, the noble houses squabbled continually 
amongst themselves.  The House of Dordinal schemed with the 
House of Maalfees against the House of Ranfaus, then Maalfees 
would align with Ranfaus against Dordinal in an endless dance of 
changing partners.  Aldara's internal security forces had been hard 
pressed to keep the hot-blooded guards of each of the Houses 
from each others' throats, and were constantly breaking up 
fistfights, swordplay and duels between noble cliques.
     The day before the trial was difficult on all involved, the 
only positive being that Reinald had recovered from the effects of 
his drugging and was completely back to normal.  Otherwise the 
news was uniformly unpleasant. There had been further attacks in 
the eastern part of the Realm by Hunters and Destroyers in 
addition to which two Representatives and their entire entourages 
had been slaughtered on their journey to the castle.  Grejor was 
still missing, and Mulder and Scully had been unable to unearth 
any more evidence to support Reinald.  
     Jourdain had spent the day meeting with Mulder, 
Reinald, and the various species leaders and generals all day, 
trying to come up with a battle strategy that was both effective 
and agreeable to all parties.  This seemed less and less likely with 
each successive meeting.  Meanwhile, Aldara's forces had broken 
up at least forty seven fights that day, some caused by 
overcrowding, some by interspecies tensions, and most by the 
noble houses instigating trouble.
     Later that night, Aldara prepared a simple supper for 
herself in her remote quarters.  She was exhausted, depressed and 
very troubled.  Cherishing her friend's advice and support, she 
had spoken briefly to Scully that morning, expressing the terrible 
depth of her worry about Jourdain and the responsibility he was 
handling.  From the moment of Reinald's arrest, he had remained 
remote, tightly coiled, keeping himself rigidly controlled.  Aldara 
knew it was mostly a facade; as she had a good idea of the hell he 
was going through.  It was probably too early in their relationship 
to hope for, but not for the first time she wished that he trusted 
her enough, felt comfortable enough to share his feelings with 
her, to let her ease some of his burden.  In fact, Aldara thought 
bitterly, it was too early in their relationship to even be sure they 
had a relationship.
     There was a tap on her door, so soft she wasn't even 
sure she had heard it.  She opened it, expecting anything but the 
huge form of Jourdain on the threshold.  "Jourdain!  Please come 
in.  Have you eaten?"
     Jourdain threw himself into a chair by the hearth and 
sighed.  She pressed a mug of tea into his hand which he sipped 
at automatically, appreciating the little boost it gave him.  Aldara 
allowed the silence to continue as she set an extra place at the 
table, dished out stew, and sliced bread.  "Come and eat, 
Jourdain."
     The big man moved slowly to the table and sat on the 
rough wooden bench.   "Thank you, Aldara."  They ate in silence, 
Jourdain still distracted by his thoughts of battle plans, his friend's

trial and his possible role as executioner.  He didn't eat well, but 
still better than he had since Reinald's arrest.
     When he had finished, Aldara cleared the dishes away as 
he remained at the table, leaning on his elbows, supporting his 
aching head in his hands.  Aldara washed the dishes, wiped down 
the table and added another log on the fire, all in silence.  Finally, 
she sat in a chair at the hearth, staring into the fire.  The silent 
minutes stretched out.  Jourdain wrenched his mind from the 
difficulties of the day and observed Aldara.  In the light of the 
fire, she was beautiful, her appearance deceptively fragile. 
Suddenly he realized what her quiet, unwavering, undemanding 
support meant to him, and what it had cost her.
     "I love you, Aldara,"  Jourdain whispered hoarsely.  
"I've no right to say it, but I love you and I need you."
     Aldara sat very still for a moment, hoping she had heard 
correctly.  She stood and slowly crossed to him, and standing 
behind him, began to massage the tense muscles of his neck with 
her small but strong hands.  He groaned a little and sagged back 
against her.  After a few minutes, he reached back, captured her 
hands and brought them to his lips.  "Aldara?"
     "Yes, Jourdain?"  Her reply was quiet, calm.
     Circling her wrist with his hand, he pulled her down to 
sit next to him on the bench.  "Aldara, did I say something 
wrong?"
     "No...no, you said something I've been waiting to hear 
all my life."  Her emerald eyes were huge, loving, trusting.
     Gently he reached out to stroke her cheek, then his hand 
went to cup the back of her head, fingers tangled deep in her 
ebony curls as he closed the distance between them.  His lips 
were soft on hers until, impatient with his gentleness, Aldara 
nipped at his lip and deepened the kiss.  He made a sound of 
surprise in his throat and returned her passion, letting her set the 
pace.  After some minutes, she broke away to catch her breath.  
His lips found the tips of her ears and she gasped softly.  He had 
discovered how sensitive her ears were mostly by accident the 
one and only time he had kissed her.  If Mulder and Scully had 
not chosen that time to visit, things would have quickly gotten 
out of control.
     Out of control was definitely where things were headed 
now.  He tongued and sucked the tips of her ears, sending her 
into a paroxysm of need.  She unbuckled his belt and her own 
with unsteady fingers, discarding leather and weapons on the 
floor.  Her hands reached into his tunic and under his shirt, 
stroking the broad chest with its mat of curly dark hair.  He 
brought her tunic over her head, adding it to the heap of 
discarded articles on the floor by their feet, and pulled her shirt 
from where it was tucked into her breeches.
     Lifting her in his arms, he stood, crossed the room and 
gently laid her on the bed, sitting beside her.  He sat for a few 
seconds, just looking at her, knowing himself to be fortunate to 
have her love and trust.  And then suddenly he was afraid.
     "Jourdain.  What is it?"  Aldara sat up, touching his 
face, his chest, alarmed at the look of concern and fear on his 
face.     
     "I want you so badly, Aldara."  His voice was tight.  
Etched into his features, his need was no secret.
     "I want you too, Jourdain."
     He kissed her softly, his hands skimming lightly over her 
curves, and wondered how he was going to ask what he needed 
to know.  "Aldara, you've not-"  He stopped, not knowing how 
to go on.  She looked expectantly at him, waiting for him to 
continue, then realized what it was that he was asking. 
     "No, I haven't.   Does that matter?"
     He gathered her in his arms and held her close, savoring 
her warmth, her return embrace.  "I'm so afraid of hurting you," 
he whispered.
     She smiled, and pulled away from him far enough that 
he could see her face.  "I love you, Jourdain, and I want this. 
Stop worrying, please."
     He searched her face, a little reassured by her lack of 
fear, but knowing that it was based mostly on naivet� and blind 
trust in him.  
     She looked him directly in  the eyes.  "Trust me, I know 
what I'm doing.  I'm not a child."  Her smile broadened and she 
snuggled close to him, her lips near his ear, her breath tickling 
and caressing at the same time.  "Besides, you do that with my 
ears again, and you're going to have to worry about my hurting 
you!"  she purred provocatively.
     Jourdain chuckled in his throat, kissed her deeply, then 
moved slowly and deliberately to her lovely pointed ears.
                         - - - - -

     "We feel like we've let you down, Tarnor."
     Tarnor shook his head.  "You've done better than I had 
dared hope.  We have Baalmas and we have the evidence of 
Grejor's aura.   I don't think Drellor has a clue that we have any 
kind of defense to mount, so that's in our favor, too.  Grejor's 
time as a witness will be critical - first, that we have correctly 
deduced that he is the main prosecution witness, and secondly, to 
see how his aura behaves under questioning.  Prince Mavor of the 
elves is here.  He is reputed to have the most sensitive eye for 
auras in the kingdom.  He will be a very powerful impartial 
witness to corroborate what Lita has to say about the aural 
changes.  And then we have several character witnesses, 
yourselves included, who can swear to Reinald's affection for the 
boy.  I don't see what more we can do."
     Scully sighed.  "I'm just concerned about any tricks that 
Grejor could play.  Is there any way he can disguise his aura, or 
anything like that?"  She looked at Mulder.
     He was quiet for a few minutes, eyes seemingly focused 
somewhere across the room.  Finally he shook his head.  "Reinald 
doesn't know of anything that could disguise or camouflage it.   
But Grejor's familiarity with unscrupulous Mages who practice 
the Black Arts has me worried.  I suppose it's possible that one of 
them might know a few tricks Reinald doesn't.  After all, who, 
other than someone who is doing something wrong,  would want 
to disguise his aura?"   Mulder began pacing around the room.  
"The one thing that cheers me up is the fact that Grejor seems to 
have made a conscious effort to avoid Lita around the time of the 
Prince's spell.  That tells me that he was afraid she would see the 
changes in his aura and wonder why."
     "In any case, I've got to be ready to pounce on Grejor as 
soon as he finishes testifying for the prosecution,"  Tarnor said.  
"I don't want to give him another opportunity to disappear."
     "Oh, he won't disappear, Jourdain will make sure of 
that,"  Scully said.   "He has already assigned three or four men 
to do nothing but keep track of Grejor's whereabouts, just as 
soon as he surfaces."
     "Tarnor, you said you have more evidence than you 
expected.  But is it enough?"  Mulder asked.  "You know your 
legal system, we don't.  Do you have enough to save Reinald's 
life?"
     The gargoyle shrugged.  "I don't know.  It's always 
difficult trying to predict how the noble houses and other factions 
will vote.  Even if it were up to the more impartial non-human 
species, it would be very close indeed.  I'm hoping that Grejor 
will confess.  Maybe seeing Baalmas ready to testify or having 
Lita testify to the aural changes will make him see the futility of 
his position.  That's what I'm hoping - not necessarily what I'm 
expecting."
     "Is there anything more we can do?"
     "Just be there, though you can miss the first part.  As 
with all of our other traditions and customs, there's a long ritual 
before anything happens, and then a judge is chosen.  The judge 
is mostly a ceremonial position, but it wouldn't hurt to have 
someone chosen who is either on our side or is impartial.  If we 
can get the right judge, it would help tremendously."  Tarnor 
smiled at them.  "For a change, we're in a good position there - as 
Defender Royal, I get to make the first nomination for judge.  
Drellor will probably try to refute it and make his own 
nomination.  It's my job to come up with someone who Drellor 
can't refute without looking bad.  Which is how I'm going to 
spend the rest of the night." He rose from the table, gathering his 
parchment documents in his hand, and moved to the door.
     "We'll be there, Tarnor.  Good night."  They closed the 
door behind him. 
     "How do you think- "  Scully began.
     Mulder stopped her with his lips.  After a minute or so, 
he murmured,  "Not another word.  We've worked hard since 
very early this morning.  We can't do anything more right now.  
The rest of tonight is for us.  Agreed?"
     Scully smiled.  "Agreed."

                         
                   -----------------


     At dawn, the castle came alive.  The day was cold and 
windy, but the sun made an appearance which was all too rare 
these days.  The smoke from the cooking fires hung in the air, 
and the clank of armor rang out, as soldiers were arrayed in full 
battle dress, and everyone else dressed in the traditional garments 
of their occupation or station in life.  Shortly after breakfast, 
there was a general thronging to the Great Hall.
     The Great Hall was an enormous room, now used little 
except for coronations and other major ceremonies.  It was 
almost three hundred feet in both length and width, with lofty 
vaulted ceilings.  Huge dark wooden beams, painted with 
intricate designs, crossed the ceiling, and the walls were hung 
with tapestries and with banners representing the major religious 
groups, the non-human species and the noble houses, past and 
present.  In the very center of the room were three large chairs, 
set facing each other in a triangle.  Surrounding them were three 
concentric rings of smaller chairs, about 50 in all.  The inner ring 
would be taken by witnesses and the Prosecutor and Defender 
Royal, and the outer two rings by the Council Representatives.  
The rest of the room contained stands, taken from storage and 
set up in the past few days by the castle workmen, where most of 
the spectators were even now taking their places.
     It was still early morning when the stands were filled to 
the breaking point.  Outside, the trumpets and bagpipes swirled 
their fanfares, a different one to honor each of the Council 
Representatives, as they and their retainers took their place in the 
procession to enter the Great Hall. The crowd watched in awed 
silence, not privy to such a display since the coronation of their 
late king a generation ago.  To trumpet and drum beat, the 
procession made its way from the gigantic doors, down the aisle, 
and filling the seats that had been set aside for them.  The order 
was strictly followed.  First, the heads of the major religious 
groups were seated.  Then came the human clans, with the most 
ancient of clans taking place of honor, followed by the next most 
ancient, and so on.  Unfortunately, this meant that often 
seatmates were fierce rivals, and a certain amount of pushing and 
shoving was going on.  Last came the Representatives of the non-
human species, conducting themselves with considerably more 
decorum.
     Next, the witnesses filed in, led by Drellor and Tarnor.  
Mulder and Scully had decided to attend the entire trial and took 
their places in line, Mulder dressed in his Mage cloak, and Scully 
in her warrior green leather with a brown hood to denote her 
unique dual status.   They were near the beginning of the line, 
following Jourdain and Aldara. Grejor, who had finally resurfaced 
and was looking about him anxiously, was somewhere near the 
middle.  Some witnesses were missing from the procession by 
design, such as Lita and Baalmas.  Tarnor had decided to appear 
weak and defenseless to Drellor at first, and then spring the 
witnesses on him, hoping to catch the Prosecutor Royal by 
surprise.   
     Finally, Reinald was led in by a guard, to a mixed 
reaction from the crowd.  Some hooted and called for his head, 
others were quite touching in the support that they shouted from 
the stands.  As, the accused Mage took one of the three central 
chairs, the crowd quieted.
     Drellor and Tarnor remained standing.  They started 
chanting in sing-song voices in a language that Mulder and Scully 
did not understand.  Scully looked questioningly at Aldara.
     "This is an ancient form of our language, reserved for 
important ceremonies," she whispered.  "I don't understand more 
than a few words of it myself, and most people don't know it at 
all."
     Scully nodded her thanks.  After a while, she began to 
realize why Tarnor had advised that they skip the first part of the 
trial.  The chanting seemed to go on for hours, sometimes taken 
up by some of the nobles.  Occasionally, she could discern chants 
in other languages, and her puzzled look brought answers from 
Aldara, that the languages were the original tongues of the Elves, 
Trolls and Gargoyles, who now all spoke the one major language 
of the Realm.  She looked over at Mulder, who generally had a 
very low tolerance for ceremony.  He looked as if he were giving 
it his closest attention, but a quick look into his mind proved 
otherwise.  Scully didn't understand much of what was going on 
in there, but it appeared he and Reinald were in communication, 
applying themselves to finding a way to reverse the Prince's spell.  
Scully left Mulder's mind as unobtrusively as she could.  She 
turned her attention to Aldara and Jourdain, sitting more closely 
together than necessitated by the arrangement of the chairs.  He 
seemed a little less haunted by the spectre of the trial, and she had 
a softer, less guarded look.  Scully cured her boredom by 
speculating on the cause for the change in her friends, until finally 
the chanting stopped.
     Drellor sat down and Tarnor took a sip of water.  Then 
he announced,  "As dictated by our laws and our traditions, I 
claim my right to name a judge."  He bowed deeply to Drellor 
and to Reinald.  In a more conversational tone, indicating a part 
of the ceremony that wasn't scripted, he said,  "I have put much 
thought into my choice for judge.  I wanted someone impartial, 
someone who commands respect, who is held in the highest 
esteem by both his own people and others as well.  I realize I am 
breaking with tradition slightly in my choice, for he is a non-
human.  I ask for approval to name Prince Mavor judge in this 
matter."  Tarnor sat down to the buzzing of the spectators and 
shouts of rage by some of the nobles.
     Drellor stayed seated, his mind trying to catch up with 
this unexpected turn of events.  He had assumed that Tarnor 
would ask Mulder to be judge, and he had prepared all his 
arguments against Tarnor's choice based on that assumption.  
Prince Mavor!  What was Tarnor up to?  Prince Mavor would 
indeed be impartial, and was respected, and was of royal blood - 
elf blood to be sure, but still royal.  Drellor knew he risked a 
revolt of the hot-tempered elves if he tried to refute Tarnor's 
choice.  He looked at his little gargoyle rival with a mixture of 
dislike and new-found respect.  He rose.
     "The Prosecutor Royal can find no good reason why 
Prince Mavor should not be named judge of these proceedings if 
it is his wish to so serve."
     Then Prince Mavor stood and said in his low musical 
voice, "I am honored and choose to serve."  He made his way 
from his seat with the non-human representatives to the second 
large chair in the center of the concentric circles and sat down.
     The chanting began again, this time with Prince Mavor 
joining in.  It lasted a comparatively short time.  Then at a signal 
from Drellor, the witnesses and Representatives filed out of the 
Great Hall, in search of food and drink to sustain them through 
the afternoon proceedings.
     Outside the Great Hall, Mulder and Scully caught up 
with Tarnor.
     "Looks like you surprised Drellor with your choice," 
said Mulder.
     Tarnor smiled.  "A little espionage on my part, I'm 
afraid.  Well, it's not my fault that Drellor has a chatty servant 
who is not particularly enamored of his master.  My servant 
found out from his servant that Drellor thought I was going to 
name you as judge."  Seeing Mulder's expression of concern, he 
chuckled.  "Don't worry, you were never in any danger.  But I 
was of two minds.  I  wanted Mavor, but I really didn't want to 
remove Drellor's false sense of security quite so soon.  He may be 
watching us more closely now than I would prefer.  But, it 
couldn't be helped."
     "Well, I can't tell you how happy I am that Drellor was 
wrong,"  Mulder said with a grin.  "I've never pictured myself as 
a judge."
     Just then, the elegant Prince Mavor joined the group.  
Tarnor quickly performed the introductions.  Mavor looked at 
Mulder and Scully, looked away, then looked again, his eyes 
widening.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare, but, by the gods, this 
is incredible.  A Mage, a Warrior Healer, bonded - by the gods, 
bonded! - and newly validated!"  Mulder stifled a laugh as 
Scully's mind pictured a huge billboard nailed to the wall of the 
Keep which listed the most intimate details of their lives.  Mavor 
turned to Tarnor.  "Do you realize what this means?"
     Tarnor nodded.  "Yes, Your Highness."
     "You are the prophesied ones...the Mage bonded to the 
Warrior Healer.  I had heard rumors, of course, but I didn't really 
believe them.  A bonded Mage...incredible!"
     Prince Mavor moved off to join his courtiers, looking 
back over his shoulder occasionally as if to assure himself that 
Mulder and Scully did, in fact, exist.
     "Isn't it a problem for the Prince to be both judge and 
possible defense witness?"  Scully asked.
     Tarnor looked at her blankly.  "No, why should that be a 
problem?"
     Scully shrugged.  "No reason, I guess."
     Tarnor bade them farewell and scurried off to attend to 
some business.  Mulder and Scully spotted Jourdain and Aldara 
and hurried to catch up with them.  The four decided to stop in at 
the tavern for refreshments.
     While Mulder and Jourdain were ordering, Scully pulled 
Aldara through the crowded tavern to an empty table in a dark 
corner.  "Okay, so what happened?"  inquired Scully.  "I know 
something happened, so don't try to deny it."
     Aldara blushed, laughing.  "You must be a very good 
investigator in your world.  Or does it show that much?"
     Scully smiled. "Maybe only to people who know you as 
well as I do.  I'm just really glad you're happy."
     "Very happy,"  said Aldara.  "Jourdain was wonderful - 
so caring and sweet."  She sighed contentedly, thoughts of the 
previous night bringing a blush to her cheek once again, then she 
giggled.  "I think I shocked him."
     Scully laughed.  "I'm not going to ask."  The women 
looked up to notice their lovers approaching, and deftly changed 
the subject.  When the men arrived, Aldara and Scully were deep 
in a conversation about the linguistic changes that had occurred 
in the long history of the Realm.   They moved over on the 
benches to make room for Mulder and Jourdain, who carried 
bread, cheese, beer and for Mulder, tea.
     Jourdain's mood, too seemed lighter.  He was extremely 
pleased by the choice of judge, and by Drellor's confusion.  "I had 
almost begun to regret all those times I insulted Drellor and 
slammed doors in his face,"  he said.  "I know he was reveling in 
the idea that I would have to execute Reinald.  It will be 
wonderful to disappoint him."
     "You certainly sound much more optimistic,"  observed 
Scully.
     "Well, Tarnor selecting Mavor as judge was a 
masterstroke," he said.  "Mavor is very highly thought of.  His 
opinion will influence many of the Representatives.  Except the 
House of Dordinal - they're known to be species bigots - and they 
weren't likely to side with Reinald in any case, so we haven't lost 
anything."  Jourdain shrugged.  "I don't know, I just feel like we 
might have a chance, that things have turned around and are 
going to go the way I want them to go."
     Scully smiled into her beer mug.  "What happens this 
afternoon?"
     "The prosecution presents its case,"  Aldara said.  "It 
may run over to tomorrow morning, which would be in our 
favor, though Drellor may not know that.  Grejor will probably 
be the last prosecution witness, because his testimony will have 
the most impact.  We don't want him to have the opportunity to 
disappear, so we'd like Grejor to testify tomorrow morning, and 
Tarnor can follow up immediately."
     Jourdain grunted.  "I have four of my best men keeping 
an eye on him, but I still don't trust the little rat."  He noticed a 
parade of people headed for the Great Hall and downed the rest 
of his beer.  "We'd better get back."  Jourdain and Aldara rose 
and went out.  Mulder caught Scully's arm for a few seconds so 
they lagged behind their friends.
     "I know I can contact your mind any time, but I prefer 
actual talking - most of the time, anyway,"  Mulder said with a 
knowing look.  "What's going on with Jourdain and Aldara?"
     "What do you think?"  grinned Scully.
     Mulder smiled back.  "The old devil.  Good for them.  
They seem happy."
     "Don't get carried away by all the romance, Mulder.  
Let's go back to the Great Hall."
     There was no procession this time.  Everyone found his 
seat or his place in the stands.  When they were filled, Drellor 
stood.
     "We are here to bring a terrible criminal to justice.  
Someone who took advantage of the trust of a small child.  
Someone who broke a sacred covenant with our Realm. 
Someone whose arrogance and quest for power led him to 
commit a horrible crime.  I speak of Reinald, Regent of the 
Realm.  Long has he pretended affection for my beloved nephew 
Prince Andalor, all the while plotting against him, against the 
Realm, and against the order of succession ordained by our laws 
and traditions."
     Drellor hung his head dramatically.  "I am so glad my 
beloved brother King Barnos is dead.  If he had lived to see the 
day when his cherished child was turned to stone to further the 
ambitions of an unscrupulous, power-hungry Mage - well, I 
shudder to think."  Drellor shuddered for his audience.
     Scully didn't know whether to be amused or disgusted 
by the show Drellor was putting on.  The man did not know the 
meaning of the word subtlety.  She touched Mulder's mind to find 
that he felt the same.  In fact, he had reached his saturation point 
for Drellor's rhetoric, and was in the process of "tuning out" 
again so he could re-establish contact with Reinald and put his 
time to good use.  Scully kept her eyes on Drellor, but most of 
her mind was with Mulder and Reinald in their quest to find a 
way to remove the spell from the young prince.
     It was just as well Scully kept herself occupied, because 
Drellor held the floor for almost two hours, expostulating on the 
evil of Mages in general and Reinald in particular, and on the 
trusting innocence of Prince Andalor.  Tarnor rejoiced with every 
minute that Drellor extended his oration.  It was becoming a 
certainty that Grejor would not reach the stand until the next 
morning.  Also, it appeared that the length of Drellor's speech, 
after the long, stultifying ceremony of the morning, might be 
antagonizing some of the undecided votes among the 
Representatives.
     Finally Drellor stopped talking and started calling 
witnesses.  He called a long series of character witnesses, mostly 
from noble houses and factions which had long been aligned with 
Drellor and against Reinald.  Each witness took the third of the 
large central chairs and parroted essentially the same testimony, 
often repeating verbatim what other witnesses had said, that 
Reinald had abused his position and his powers and had 
committed treason against the Realm.  Although none of the 
witnesses spoke for very long, there were so many of them that 
the sun had long since set before the last of them had testified.  
Finally, Prince Mavor called a halt to the proceedings for the 
night.
     "But sir, we have not yet finished presenting our case,"  
babbled Drellor.  "I have another witness who must testify, our 
most important witness."
     "Prosecutor Royal, you should have thought of that 
before," declared Mavor.  "In any event, a witness so important 
should be heard when we are fresh.  We will stop now and 
reconvene in the morning."  His expression did not invite 
argument or discussion.
     "Yes, sir,"  said Drellor, deflated.
      Mulder and Scully got up, stretched and started 
walking back to their chamber.  "This inactivity is killing me,"  
groaned Mulder.  "I'm going to change and go for a run on the 
battlements.  Want to come?"
     "No thanks, too cold  for me.  I can unwind in a nice hot 
tub."  She shivered as a cold, wet wind roared through the 
courtyard, and Mulder drew her closer to him.  "How are you 
and Reinald coming on something to reverse the Prince's spell?"
     "We thought of something today, actually.  Reinald has 
been deprived of his books of spells since being arrested, but I 
committed them to memory and have been a kind of "living 
book" for Reinald since he regained consciousness.  There's a 
couple of things we're working on.  Of course, Reinald has to 
beat the rap first."
     "I know, I've been thinking about that.  And so has 
Prince Mavor, by the way,"  Scully said.  "He has very high levels 
of psi ability, and I was standing quite close to him.  I didn't mean 
to eavesdrop in his mind, but I couldn't help but notice that he 
has correctly put two and two together.  If Reinald is executed, 
then the Realm is doomed, because there won't be two powerful-
enough Mages to combined their powers to defeat the Dark 
forces.  I was wrong before when I thought there were four lives 
at stake here - everyone's life is at stake, including ours.  Mavor 
understands that.  I think that will work in our favor, too."
     They came at last to their chamber, lit by the fireplace 
and a couple of flickering torches.  Steam rose from the hot 
water in the big copper tub, and the tea kettle was on the fire.
     "Need help washing your back, Scully?"
     "I thought you were going for a run."
     "You were right, it's pretty cold out.  I'll figure out 
another way to get some exercise."
His smile was deceptively innocent.
                         - - - - -


     The following morning was stormy, with wind-driven 
sleet making little pinging sounds as it struck armor and shields.  
The witnesses and Council Representatives did not bother with a 
procession and fanfares, merely entering the Great Hall with all 
due speed in an attempt to get warm.
     When everyone was in place, Drellor called Grejor to 
the stand.
     "State your name, birthplace and station, then tell the 
assembly what you know of Reinald and his crime."
     "My name is Grejor.  I came originally from the village 
of Cattle Ford in the southern part of the Realm.  I am a Mage 
Apprentice under Mage Reinald and have held that post for seven 
seasons."
     Three small cloaked and hooded figures quietly entered 
the Great Hall and began making their way down the central 
aisle.  Grejor stared at them, distracted.
     Drellor noticed Grejor's hesitation and impatiently 
prodded him.  "Yes, yes, go on.  Tell us of Reinald's crimes."
     "Well, uhh...many's the time Reinald told me that 
Andalor was a thorn in his side.  That being Regent was a 
thankless job.  That as long as he was going to have to do the job 
of running the kingdom, he should have the power and title and 
respect to go along with it."  Grejor hesitated once again, as he 
noticed one of the cloaked figures incline its head toward Tarnor 
to speak, and Tarnor apparently listening with interest, nodding 
several times.
     "Grejor, please pay attention,"  Drellor demanded.  
"Your testimony is important."
     "Yes.  I'm sorry...uhhh, where was I ?"
     "You were telling us how Reinald wasn't satisfied with 
being Regent,"  Drellor said through clenched teeth., barely 
holding on to his temper.
     "Yes, right."  Grejor's attention was still held by the 
three cloaked figures.  He watched them, mesmerized, like a 
rodent would watch a huge, coiled serpent.
     "AND..."  prompted a furious Drellor.
     "And - and he - I saw him practicing a spell, many times, 
using small objects like bottles at first and then living things like 
birds and cats."  Grejor stopped. Visibly trembling now, he 
swallowed nervously as the cloaked figure spoke again to Tarnor.  
     Drellor smiled, oblivious to the cause of Grejor's 
discomfiture.  "And what happened when Reinald would cast this 
spell, Grejor?  Tell the assembly."  He indicated the gathered 
representatives with a dramatic sweep of his arm.
     Grejor stared at Tarnor and the three figures.  Who the 
hell were they, and why were they talking to Tarnor?  What were 
they saying about him?
     "Grejor!  Tell the assembly what would happen!"  
Drellor shouted.
     "uhhh...uuhhh...the objects would turn to stone,"  Grejor 
said in a rush, beads of sweat now standing out on his brow.  
Prince Mavor stared at Grejor, disgusted, but said nothing.  Most 
of the assembled crowd began to call again for Reinald's head, 
but many of the elves and the magically sensitive looked on in 
consternation and began to shake their heads and talk among 
themselves.
     Drellor had planned on getting into more detail, but the 
manner in which Grejor was giving his evidence was not at all as 
they had rehearsed.  He decided to quit while he was ahead.  
"The witness may go," he said airily, and Grejor was out of his 
seat in a heartbeat.
     Tarnor leapt up.   "I have a few questions I would like 
to ask Grejor."
     Prince Mavor nodded and motioned Grejor back to the 
witness chair.  Grejor looked hunted, trapped.  He looked around 
for any possible alternative to returning to that chair, and saw 
none.  Guards were everywhere.  That fool Drellor had promised 
that this would not happen, had said that once he had told his 
story for Drellor that he would be free to go back into safe-hiding 
until it was all over.  Grejor shot a look of hatred at Drellor, and 
returned to the witness chair. Drellor almost stood to argue 
against Tarnor's request, but looking at Mavor's face thought 
better of the action, and stayed seated and silent.    
     "Tell us how you came to be Reinald's apprentice," 
began Tarnor.  
     Grejor relaxed very slightly.  "I applied for the post 
when it came open."
     "Were you accepted immediately?
     "I don't know what you mean,"  Grejor said guardedly.
     "Well, what I mean is, did Reinald recognize your vast 
store of Mage energy from your aura, did you dazzle him with 
your prowess, something like that?"
     Grejor flushed angrily.  "You know very well that wasn't 
the case, Tarnor.  You were there."
     Tarnor nodded.  "Yes, I was but all these other people 
were not.  Please tell the assembly the circumstances of your 
being chosen."
     "I don't see what this has to do with anything,"  growled 
Grejor.
     "Nor do I," said Drellor in a stage whisper.  Several of 
his noble cronies snickered.
     Prince Mavor looked over at Grejor.  "Answer the 
question."
     He stared at Tarnor with hot, furious eyes. "Reinald 
couldn't read my aura.  He brought in some scullery maid to read 
it.  Between them, they decided my powers were "marginal", but 
Reinald accepted me anyway."
     Tarnor walked up to Grejor.  "Did you get along well 
with Reinald?"
     "He was all right," said Grejor sullenly.
     "Wasn't he a hero to you, at least until recently?"
     "All right, that's true,"  admitted Grejor.  "I worked 
myself into exhaustion for that man, I worked harder than any 
apprentice he had ever had."
     "Well, what happened to change your mind?"
     "It was the black magic, the spells he was practicing.  I 
didn't want to get into any of that stuff.  And the way he was 
talking about Prince Andalor.  I had no idea that's who he was 
going to use the spell on - if I did I would have reported it to 
someone,"  Grejor declared.
     The crowd buzzed, Mavor frowned, and Drellor 
gloated.  The fool Tarnor was making Drellor's case for him.  
The end should come soon now.
     "Did you not complain numerous times of the length of 
time your training was taking?", inquired Tarnor.
     "I might have.  The old man was always picking on me.  
Nothing I ever did was good enough, everything had to be just 
so.  Even after I learned something, he'd go over it again and 
again, picking my performance apart, repeating things until I 
thought I'd go crazy.  Sometimes I thought he was delaying my 
training on purpose."
     "How long does an apprentice usually spend with a 
Mage?"
     "Maybe eight seasons."
     "You said you had spent seven seasons with Reinald.  
Does that mean you were about to leave him, that you had almost 
completed your studies?"
     Grejor glowered.  "No.  I had completed barely half my 
training."
     "Did you blame Reinald for that?"
     "I worked hard.  He was always against me, he never 
appreciated me.  Sure, I blame him."         
     Tarnor was quiet for a few seconds, glancing back at the 
three hooded figures and consulting a parchment before him.
     "You are a Mage Apprentice, so you must know 
something about auras, am I right?"
     "A damn sight more than Reinald,"  declared Grejor, 
with bravado.  Some of the Dordinal nobles laughed.
     Tarnor just nodded.  "I know.  Auras were always 
Reinald's weakness, weren't they?  What happens to a person's 
aura when that person lies or tries to conceal something?  
Grejor?"  The witness merely stared at him, deathly pale, 
perspiration rolling down his face, in spite of the chilly 
temperatures.
     Drellor shot to his feet.  His witness was coming apart.  
Grejor had said something about auras when they had rehearsed 
his testimony, but he hadn't been able to follow it.  "Prince 
Mavor," he blustered. "You can't allow this kind of question.  
Magic spells are not allowed in obtaining evidence, and an aura is 
like a magic spell."
     Mavor looked at Drellor with distaste.  "There is 
nothing magical about auras.  They simply exist, as your hand 
exists.  The fact that some species are unable to see them does 
not make them supernatural.  Now sit down."
     "Answer the question, Grejor!"  Tarnor said in a harsh 
voice.  "Isn't it true that auras undergo characteristic changes 
when someone tries to hide something?"
     "An old wives' tale!"  babbled Grejor, terrified
     Tarnor turned  and nodded.  Suddenly, one of the 
cloaked figures pulled off her hood.    
     Grejor started as if he had received a jolt of lightning.  
Lita!  He had been afraid of just this situation.  He had tried to 
tell Drellor, but the fool had no idea about auras.
                         
                   -----------------



     "Do you want to change your answer?"  Tarnor sneered.
     Grejor was silent and looked at the witness section with 
hatred.
     "You are familiar with Lita, here, aren't you Grejor?  
Lita is an acknowledged expert on auras.  She read your aura 
once before, didn't she?  It's not an old wives' tale, it's a well 
known fact.  I think all the elves in the assembly will agree with 
me that auras do indeed change with lies and concealment, am I 
right?"
     A chorus of  "Ayes" came from the elves in the stands 
and the elven Council Representatives.  Prince Mavor solemnly 
nodded his head.
     "And I think you will also agree that you have noticed 
these changes happening to Grejor's aura as he sat here and gave 
evidence against Reinald.  I plan to ask both Lita and Prince 
Mavor to take the witness chair to testify concerning the changes 
they saw - two acknowledged experts who will tell you of the lies 
that Grejor has told today against the man that befriended him."
     Tarnor strode up to the witness and looked him in the 
eyes.  "When did you start to hate Reinald, Grejor?  Don't bother 
to lie, that will just be something else that Lita and Prince Mavor 
will have to testify to."  Grejor merely returned a look of total 
hatred.
     "Didn't you start to hate him when Mage Mulder came, 
and Reinald started working with him and had no time for your 
training anymore?"  Tarnor charged.  "No answer.  All right, how 
about this one?  When did you start to plot against Reinald?  
When did you seek out those who practice the Black Arts, to try 
to find a way to get back at Reinald for ignoring you?"
     Grejor began to shout,  "I never - ".  Suddenly, his eyes 
stared in horror as a second hooded figure stood.  Baalmas swept 
back his hood and looked directly at Grejor.  The third cloaked 
figure sat still.
     "NOOOO!"  screamed Grejor.  "Drellor, you fool!  I 
told you about my aura, but you wouldn't listen!  No, you said go 
ahead and lie anyway, that everyone would believe me.  You said 
they'd never be able to trace that spell, and now they have.  You 
fool, you stupid conceited fool!"
     Suddenly Grejor bent down and pulled a long dagger 
from his boot and leapt to the side of Reinald's chair, holding the 
knife to the Mage's throat.  Madness glinted in his eyes.  Jourdain 
started to rise from his seat, but Mulder caught his wrist in a grip 
of iron, never taking his eyes from Grejor and Reinald.
     "All right.  Lita knows about my aura and Baalmas will 
tell of my seeking a black magician to supply a spell.  Zoalstra, 
there, will tell of the spell she made up for me.  Do you want to 
know why I did it?  I treated Reinald like a king, like a hero, and 
he humiliated me every chance he got.  He wanted me to fail. He 
treated me like an idiot, a moron.  And then Mulder came.  
Wonderful, perfect Mulder who had everything that I didn't have 
- unlimited powers, a life-bondmate who never even noticed my 
existence, all Reinald's respect and attention.  And it got worse."  
Grejor laughed bitterly.  "I couldn't believe Reinald could treat 
me any worse, but he did.  After all my work, I was fit only for 
sweeping up all the bottles that Mulder broke because he couldn't 
do the simplest levitation spell.  I wish I had just killed you, 
Reinald.  And I won't get the chance now, will I?"  He looked at 
Mulder with loathing.  "Because Mulder's cast a shielding spell 
for you, hasn't he?  I can feel the resistance against my knife 
blade.  Damn you, Mulder!  You're not a Mage, you're a witch!  
You can't even be poisoned!"
     Grejor reached across and grabbed Prince Mavor.  He 
giggled insanely.  "Here's one you haven't shielded, Mulder.  Too 
bad I can't reach your little bondmate."  He turned once again to 
Reinald.  "But I know a better way to get you, Reinald!  I put the 
spell on your precious little Prince Andalor; only I can take it off.  
Well, Andalor is going to stay the way he is - forever!"
     Grejor shoved Mavor to the floor and took a step 
backwards.  Before anyone could move, with a flash of his 
dagger, he slashed his own throat from ear to ear.  He dropped to 
the ground, gurgling and twitching horribly, then was still and 
silent as his blood ran out on the stone floor.
     Pandemonium broke out.  While spectators shouted and 
screamed, Jourdain and Scully moved to Grejor's side, Scully 
only able to confirm that Grejor was beyond a healer's help.  
Jourdain assisted Prince Mavor to his chair, and then collared 
Drellor and summoned two guards to take charge of the shaking 
little man.  Mulder crossed to Reinald's side, and put a 
comforting hand on the Mage's shoulder.
     Prince Mavor looked at Jourdain, who yelled "Quiet" at 
the top of his lungs.  After several shouts, the throng finally 
settled down.  Prince Mavor rose.
     "These events are unprecedented.   Our traditions do 
not dictate to us how to deal with this situation.  Obviously, 
Reinald is innocent;  the guilty party has confessed and is dead.  I 
am ordering the arrest of Drellor on the charge of conspiracy.  
Do I hear any objections?"
     Two or three of Drellor's noble lackeys called out "Aye" 
but they were the only ones.  Drellor was taken away by the 
guards, to the catcalls of the spectators.
     Then Mavor declared,  "For the record, I call a vote to 
determine Reinald's verdict.  Who believes Reinald has been 
proved innocent?"  There were affirmative shouts from nearly all 
the Representatives.  "Guilty?"  Incredibly, there were a couple of 
Dordinal nobles who shouted "Aye."  They were roundly jeered 
by the spectators and the other Representatives.
     "Reinald is released and this Council is dismissed.  
Because of the events which have transpired, we will forego the 
closing ceremony."  Prince Mavor sank into his chair, emotionally 
exhausted, as spectators and Representatives alike moved in a 
cacophonous animated tidal wave for the exits.
                         - - - - -

     Back in Reinald's chambers, the five friends huddled 
around the fire drinking tea, as they had a scant week ago when 
this nightmare had first begun.
     "I just want to congratulate Tarnor,"  declared Jourdain.  
"He did a wonderful job."
     Tarnor shook his head.  "We have Mulder and Scully to 
thank for the most part.  Without the evidence that they 
uncovered, I wouldn't have had anything.  The aura idea was 
brilliant, and finding Baalmas put the final nail in Grejor's coffin."
     "Literally, unfortunately,"  Reinald sighed. "I wish I had 
paid more attention.  The boy couldn't help that he just didn't 
have strong enough powers.  And I did ignore him shamefully the 
past several weeks."
     Mulder shook his head.  "I, too, wish I had paid more 
attention, but for a different reason.  When I was studying for my 
doctorate in psychology, we studied cases like Grejor.   Scully, 
I'm sure you did too."   Scully nodded.  "Reinald,"  Mulder 
continued,  "You never would have been able to give Grejor all 
the time and attention he thought he needed.  He was shifting the 
blame for his lack of success away from his shortage of talent, 
which he couldn't accept, and on to your lack of attention and 
appreciation, which he could.  I blame myself because I should 
have spotted Grejor's pathology and anticipated a problem.  
Besides, Reinald, we've been working to try to save the Realm.  
It may sound harsh, but I think that had to take precedence over 
one person's bent psyche."
     The language spell had a few problems, but the 
company understood most of what Mulder was trying to say. 
     "One thing I don't understand,"  said Aldara.  "If 
Zoalstra was dead, who was the third hooded figure?"
     Tarnor smiled.  "I recruited Drellor's gargoyle servant, 
who was only too happy to help us against Drellor.  I never 
intended to have him take his hood off.  I just hoped that Grejor 
would assume what he obviously did - that Zoalstra was alive and 
ready to testify against him.  If Grejor had been thinking straight, 
he would have known that there was no way anyone could have 
trusted Zoalstra in the witness chair, as crazy as she was."
     There was a knock on the door.  Jourdain walked over 
and opened it to admit Corvay.  The little elf was handed a mug 
of tea and shown to a seat.
     "I hate to be the voice of doom," began Scully, "But this 
is really only the tip of the iceberg.  I mean, Reinald, I'm totally 
delighted you're free and it's a wonderful and necessary first step.  
But it's only that - a first step.  The biggest battles lie ahead of us

- ridding the Prince of his spell and especially, defeating the Dark 
Realm."
     Mulder caressed her hand, and her mind.  "Reinald and I 
have a possible solution to the Prince's spell.  We're not sure it 
will work.  Since we don't have anything around that is under the 
same spell as the Prince, we can't test our little remedy.   And we 
don't want to make things worse than they are right now.  We 
wanted to consult with all of you.  We need to weigh the benefits 
against the risks."  Mulder looked around at all of them.  "I'm 
aware that this will all be guesswork, hopefully educated 
guesswork.  Corvay - your thoughts?"
     The little elf looked at everyone with bright, knowing 
eyes.  "I am of the opinion that the longer the Prince stays in his 
current state, the harder it will be to both remove him from that 
state, and return him to health if he is removed from that state.  
There's no telling when, if ever, you could come up with a better 
plan.  I think if you have a plan, put it into action now."
     "I don't know if anyone cares what I think,"  Aldara 
ventured, "But I'd be inclined to wait.  And not for the reason 
you think.  I'm sure that Reinald and Mulder will take all due 
care, and may even successfully bring the child back.  But think 
about Wide River.  Do we want to bring the child back to face an 
end like that?  Our future is so unsure right now.  Is it fair to 
bring him back only to suffer the fate of those poor people in 
Wide River?"
     The group was quiet for some time.
     "Admittedly, I hadn't thought of that," Reinald said.  "I 
love the child, and the gods know I would not want him exposed 
to that.  But he is also the Prince, the head of the Realm.  As 
such, he has certain responsibilities, and he both knows and 
accepts that fact.  His return to normal would have a very 
positive effect on the morale of our soldiers and on all the people 
of the Realm who need to be ready to sacrifice all they have to 
defeat the Realm's enemies.  For that reason alone, the sooner we 
bring him back the better."  He turned to Aldara.  "I don't mean 
to sound hard and uncaring, my dear.  Unfortunately, I must 
think not only as someone who loves Andalor, but also as Regent 
of this part of the Realm, and sometimes that must take 
precedence."
     Scully looked uncomfortable.  "I can't help but think the 
Prince is in there, sentient, unable to move or communicate.   
Maybe it's because of a past personal experience of mine, only 
tiny fragments of memories - "  Scully voice became choked and 
she shuddered.  Immediately she felt Mulder in her mind, 
caressing and soothing, supporting and comforting.  She 
communicated gratitude, and cleared her throat.  "Anyway, if 
what I feel is true, we have to bring him back, as quickly as 
possible, before he has lasting effects from the experience that 
even Corvay can't heal."
     "I must say, too," Corvay piped up, "If Scully feels that 
way, there is a much better than average chance that she is 
correct.  Her psi ability is much higher than that of anyone I 
know, and she may be able to sense the Prince's presence."
     Reinald took a deep breath.  "Then, if no one has 
anything else to say, I think we need to come to a decision.  
Although I acknowledge the possible deleterious effects, I believe 
we have no other choice than to try to restore the Prince.  
Anyone opposed?"
     One by one they shook their heads, some firmly, some 
hesitatingly.
     Reinald nodded approvingly.  "I took the liberty of 
discussing this possible course of action with the heads of the 
noble houses, the priests and with the non-human representatives.  
As expected, the nobles could not agree on anything but not 
agreeing, and the priests and Prince Mavor and the troll and 
gargoyle representatives were very supportive, regardless of the 
outcome.  Are you ready, Mulder?"
     Solemnly, Mulder nodded.  Scully suddenly felt very 
anxious.  She knew all too well Mulder's overblown sense of 
responsibility.  If this didn't work, he would find it very hard to 
ever forgive himself, especially where a child was involved.  
There was already so much that wasn't his fault that he felt guilty 
for, the last thing she wanted to see was something else on that 
list.  Her mind sent a constant stream of love and support and 
trust to his.  She saw a flicker of recognition and appreciation on 
his face, then he turned to her and smiled.
     They all went into Reinald's bedchamber where the 
Prince stood as he had since the previous week, his stone feet 
encased in a broken block of stone that had once been clear, 
spring water.  Reinald lit eight candles and placed them at precise 
positions around the Prince.  Mulder took a small stone dish of 
water, floated a fresh flower blossom in it, and placed it at the 
Prince's feet.  The Mages then took up positions on either side of 
the Prince and spread their arms wide.  Closing their eyes, they 
started chanting, and blue and white Mage-energy began 
snapping from their finger tips.  The energy and power increased, 
until both Mages were shaking with the effort to control it.  The 
cadence of the chant picked up, as did the volume.  Suddenly, the 
Mages joined their hands, encircling the Prince in a finely woven 
screen of blue and white.  They were now almost yelling the 
chant to be heard over the crackling of the power cage they had 
created.  Finally, with a hoarse scream, they pulled their hands 
apart and collapsed on the floor.  Between their prostrate bodies 
were eight candles, burned down to the holders, a dish with a 
stone flower, a puddle of muddy water, and a pale and shaky 
little boy.
                         - - - - -

     The next hour was a busy one for everyone.  Corvay 
took charge of Andalor, scooping the child up and placing him in 
Reinald's huge bed.  He sat next to the child, holding his hand, 
reaching deep inside the child as a healer, assessing the damage 
done by the spell, starting the healing process.  Scully looked at 
them anxiously - the child was very, very pale, and had not 
spoken a word.  She went to the fire and put a pot of restorative 
on to warm.  Then she helped the Mages to a sitting position and 
held the potion to their lips, assisting them to drink.  Meanwhile, 
Aldara and Jourdain went to deliver the good news to the 
Council Representatives who had not yet departed for home, and 
had it announced from the battlements to the joyous cries of the 
crowd gathered below.
     The five gathered again by Reinald's fire an hour or so 
later.   The Mages were exhausted, but satisfied that their spell 
had worked.  But they all awaited the word of Corvay, who was 
still in with the Prince.  Scully left the fire to check on Corvay, as 
she had every five minutes for the last half hour.  This time she 
was gone longer, and emerged from the bedchamber supporting a 
weak and trembling Healer.  Jourdain bolted from his chair and 
carried the little elf to a seat at the fireside, and Scully help him 
drink some restorative.  It was several minutes before he had 
recovered the strength to talk.
     At last he sighed and sat up a bit straighter.  "It was as 
Scully felt - the Prince was aware throughout the ordeal.  He is 
not yet well.  Several sessions will be needed to heal him 
completely, but he can be healed.  Reinald - your speaking to him 
and reassuring him right after it happened made a huge difference 
to his state.  Had you not done that, I may not have been able to 
restore him to health.  Likewise, Aldara and Jourdain -"  
everyone looked at them, and they looked at each other, in 
surprise -  "your visits to him when Reinald was imprisoned 
helped him to maintain a link with this world.  Again, I'm not sure 
whether his mind would have survived without them.  It will take 
a few days, and there may be a few lingering effects - nightmares 
and so on - but he will be well again.  Don't leave him alone for a 
while.  No excitement.  Limit visitors to just ourselves, and a few 
of the Council Representatives, as necessary for matters of state, 
who can be trusted to behave themselves.  Now, I must sleep.  
Jourdain, may I ask you for some help?"
     Jourdain lifted the old elf in his arms as he would a 
child.  Aldara opened the door for them, and the three left for 
Corvay's quarters.
     Scully helped to pull Mulder to his feet.  "Is there 
anything else you need, Reinald?" she asked.
     The Mage shook his head and smiled.  "What more 
could I possibly ask for?  I have my life, and my freedom, and 
Andalor.  I don't want to make the gods envious - an old Realm 
expression, Scully.  Take your bondmate back to your quarters.  
We've all done good work and it has been an exhausting day.  
When Corvay gives the word, there will be a day of celebration 
for the delivery of the Prince from this spell.  The people need 
something to celebrate - the gods know there hasn't been much 
lately.  Goodnight."
     Scully smiled at the Mage.  "Goodnight, Reinald."  
     She guided Mulder through the door and back to their 
chamber.  She helped to get him undressed and into bed.  For 
tonight, she assumed the nighttime duties he normally saw to, 
extinguishing all but one of the torches, stoking the fire, and 
bringing him a cup of tea.  She lay quietly beside him, both of 
them too exhausted by the events of the day to speak.  When he 
fell asleep, she eased the tea cup from his hand. Sliding out of 
bed, she put the cup on the table and put out the last torch.  Then 
she crawled up beside him and lay in the shelter of his arms for 
the remainder of the night.
                         - - - - -

     The party was in full swing three days later.  Andalor 
scampered in and out of knots of people, acting very much as a 
normal eight year old boy at a party.  They were all in their finest 
clothes, and the affair was made all the more glamorous by the 
many Council Representatives who had stayed on at Fairwood 
Keep to celebrate.  An unseasonable warm turn in the weather 
allowed much of the party to take place in the courtyard.  There 
were musicians and dancing and food hoarded for a special 
occasion was presented on long tables.  Nobles mixed with 
common folk in a celebration that touched all the people in the 
Realm.
     Unnoticed was a small, bloody figure, half staggering, 
half dragging himself toward the sounds of merriment.  As had 
happened so often in the last three days, he fell heavily, only to 
find the strength from his dwindling reserves to pull himself up 
again, leaving bloodstains on the ground where he had fallen.
     Aldara stood at a little distance, watching the revelers, 
Jourdain amongst them.  He was rarely lighthearted these days, 
and it was good to see for a change.  She saw Scully, looking 
radiant in a golden gown, floating on Mulder's arm in time to the 
music, the two of them as handsome and graceful a couple as she 
had ever seen.  At present, Aldara was engaged in one of her 
favorite private pastimes - watching the sun go down behind the 
battlements.  Not normally a contemplative person, she used this 
one time of the day for talking to herself and to the gods.  She 
looked out over the shadows caused by the setting sun, the 
interplay of dark and light - and saw something move.  The 
delicate, feminine partygoer was gone and the warrior surfaced.  
Drawing the knife from its sheath strapped to her leg, she 
followed the walls for cover as much as possible, her sharp eyes 
on the source of her concern.  When she got to within a hundred 
feet, she recognized the huddled shape as Fossia, an elf who 
maintained a watchpost near the Vortex.
     "Help, we need help here!  Healers!"  She ran to the elf, 
who had again fallen.  She lifted his head.  "Stay quiet, help's 
coming."
     Within seconds, Jourdain, Corvay, Mulder and Scully 
were at her side, lifting the injured elf and carrying him to a bench 
made softer by the donation of cloaks from concerned onlookers.  
The Healer tried to establish contact. 
     Fossia shook off Corvay impatiently, showing some 
typical elf temper with the last of his energy.  "No, Healer, not 
yet.  I did not drag myself all this way...to be put into a healing 
trance now.  Jourdain!  I must tell you...the Vortex...Hunters and 
Destroyers, pouring in...thousands amassing...our doom."
     The little elf finally surrendered to unconciousness and 
Corvay grabbed his hand to establish contact and start the healing 
trance.  Jourdain looked at Aldara gravely.
     "Gather the Representatives for a special meeting.  I'll 
find Reinald.  It's started in earnest."
     Mulder looked at Scully, with concern and regret and 
sorrow in his eyes.  "Party's over."

                         
                   -----------------


     Fox Mulder pushed the doorflap aside, ducked his head 
and stepped into the tent. Immediately to the left of the door was 
a small table covered with fruits and simple breads; to the right 
was a large pile of parchment maps.  In the middle of the tent, 
several brightly patterned cushions had been placed into a circle, 
surrounding a small open area.  Scully and Jourdain were already 
seated on two of the big colorful pillows, each sipping at a 
steaming mug of the Realm's magical tea. 
     "Can I have one of those?" Mulder asked wearily, 
dropping his lanky frame onto one of the empty cushions next to 
Scully, who handed out her cup to him with a ghost of smile.
     "You sure?" he questioned, looking at her critically. 
When had those lines developed around her mouth and eyes? Her 
blue eyes were cloudy, her lovely hair dusty and tightly wound in 
a now-characteristic braid. She was dressed in dusty green leather 
and light silver chain mail, her sword still hanging down her back. 
A warrior, calm and tense as a coiled spring.
     "Yes, I've already had enough to keep me wired for 
hours." Scully sighed and stretched, watching with hidden 
concern as her partner sipped at the hot tea. His skin had paled 
underneath its tan to a sickly yellow pallor. His eyes were red-
lined and heavy-lidded, his delicate hands trembling slightly. She 
knew he had been pushing himself far too hard, the demands on 
the surviving Realm magicians increasing daily. And Mulder was 
always one to take more than his share of the responsibility.
     "You need to rest," she scolding him, uncomfortably 
aware of her own exhaustion.
     "I know, but it will have to wait for a while. We still 
have to get Erensto evacuated." He took a gulp of the tea, 
wincing as it scalded the back of his throat, sighing as he was 
rewarded with a warm rush in his belly.
     "Mulder..." Scully shook her head. He was right, there 
were too many lives at stake. Too much left to do. And far too 
little time left.
     Further conversation was halted as Reinald nearly 
staggered into the tent followed by the bulky Troll General, 
Kergidor. Andalor was barely a step behind them, tugging 
impatiently on the hand of the gargoyle leader Beerak. The elven 
Prince Mavor entered last, his thin, finely carved features haughty 
with disdain as he eyed Kergidor diving eagerly into the 
refreshments, juice running down his pointed jowls.
     Reinald took the seat next to Mulder, waving to young 
Andalor to sit next to him. The boy Prince did so quickly, his 
mobile features coalescing into a look of worried expectancy. 
Beerak sat down gravely, ignoring the food. Mavor followed suit, 
though not without a sharp look of disgust at Kergidor, who 
bustled over to the remaining cushion, even as he nibbled at a 
chunk of bread, crumbs spilling down onto his stained brown 
armor.
     Silence reigned for a few uncomfortable moments once 
everyone had been seated, eight pairs of eyes darting from one 
closed countenance to another, no one wanting to be the first to 
speak. Finally, Jourdain cleared his throat and began.
     "The East and South regions are lost. We've evacuated 
as many people as we could from the towns of Dreegan, 
Yellowfork, and Jinderling. The Gargoyles have cleared out of 
Goodearth caverns, the Elves have had to abandon Fairwood 
Glens. Mage Mulder will be aiding Mage Gera in evacuating 
Erensto this afternoon. That should clear out the last of the 
people in the area between here and the Fairwood crossing. So 
far, we've been able to hold the line at Fairwood Crossing, 
though the losses have been heavy. With the help of mages 
Flordan and Giels, we've been able to Gate in gargoyle and 
human reinforcement units, hopefully they'll be able to hold until 
tomorrow night.
     "We're setting up a staging ground here on the Uriin 
Plains, near the Sentinel cliffs. The river provides a natural barrier 
on the other side, giving us the chance to surround them - if we 
can draw them in. We'll swing troops around behind them and 
place archer units on the corners. One they're surrounded, Mages 
Reinald and Mulder will create the vortex in the center, our job 
will be to drive the Dark Army through it." 
     Mulder and Reinald exchanged grim looks while 
Jourdain leaned forward to draw lines in the dirt floor with his 
knife edge, explaining the battle strategy in detail, even though 
they all knew it by heart. Many long hours of planning, arguing, 
hope and desperation had gone into the decision.  If the two 
magicians failed at creating and holding the vortex, if the 
surrounding troop lines broke, letting the enemy escape, if the 
timing was wrong at any stage - it could result in disaster. 
Reinald gave the best assurances he could concerning his and 
Mulder's ability to control the vortex, though all were painfully 
aware of the small crater that now graced the top of one of the 
Sentinel cliffs. All knew this could easily blow up in their faces - 
all knew it was their best, and only, hope.
     Still, they discussed it yet again: the placement of troops 
and cavalry, archers and magicians. Each race had its own units 
which had to be coordinated with the others. Familiar arguments 
were raised and dismissed, almost by rote. Additional 
reinforcements were planned, some consisting solely of farmers 
and merchants, refugees who had traded their plows and wagons 
for knives and swords. Supply lines were given extra guards, 
healer positions were rearranged. 
     Finally the discussion dwindled into a another painful 
silence. Only one last question to answer.
     "Who is going to lead them into the trap?" The words, 
spoken in Reinald's weary tones quivered in the air. 
     "I will." Seven pairs of stunned eyes turned to stare at 
the red-haired woman. Her face was as calm as her voice, her 
eyes steady and certain.
     "Scully!" Mulder began to protest, his blood beginning 
to chill in his veins. She silenced him with a wave of her hand.
     "Someone has to do it, and you are all needed here. 
Jourdain has to organize the trap, Reinald and Mulder have 
nearly impossible responsibility as is. Andalor can't be put at risk 
while Kergidor, Mavor and Beerak are needed among their own 
peoples. That leaves me. I'll take a group of volunteers from 
among the soldiers, I don't think anyone should be compelled to 
do this."
     "You are needed here, too," Reinald protested. Scully 
shook her head.
     "Anyone can do what I do. You've got dozens of better 
trained healers, thousands of more experienced soldiers. And 
don't forget the Prophecy: 'Woman, born to be a mage's bond, 
Soldier, Healer, lead the fight.' I think that this is what the lines 
mean - that this is what I'm supposed to do." 
     Again, she forestalled Mulder's protest, "I HAVE to do 
this. It will fail if anyone else does. I'm not sure how I know this, 
but I'm right." Good heavens, she thought, now I'm even starting 
to talk like Mulder.  She was terrified of the prospect facing her, 
and yet she also felt an odd sense of peace - a sense of rightness. 
THIS was why she was here, what she had been training for over 
the long months. This was her role to play, and she couldn't hand 
it off to anyone else. A part of her wanted to laugh - intuitive 
knowledge was Mulder's style, not her's. But the growth of their 
mind-link had blurred the barriers between their minds, their 
personalities, their capabilities. Another part of her wanted to cry. 
She was so scared. Please don't shut me out, Mulder, she pleaded 
silently, I need you.
     Mulder's eyes glittered, his jaw held so tightly clenched 
his teeth began to ache. She reached out to touch his arm 
tenderly. "I'm sorry, Mulder, please...I have to do this." Feelings 
warred back and forth down the mental link between them, then 
shut off as he pulled down a seamless mental barrier between 
them. Ignoring the worried faces watching them, she pushed at it 
with all her energy, only barely keeping herself from screaming 
aloud. 
     The air in the tent grew dark and heavy with moisture, 
thick with static charge, as Mulder battled with himself. Part of 
him wanted to scream, to throw her over his shoulder and lock 
her up somewhere safe until the battle was over. But another part 
of him respected and admired her courage.  He'd come to 
understand over the past few months of the escalating war, in a 
way he had never done before, just how ferocious a warrior his 
partner was. She was in her element on the battlefield, fierce, 
relentless and unstoppable. Sometimes it frightened him, the way 
she scythed her way through the enemy, sword flashing, eyes 
blazing blue fire. But he also couldn't forget her gentler side, the 
graceful, elegant beauty who melted in his arms, the woman 
whose love made him whole. He couldn't let her do this, he knew 
the pain of losing her would destroy him. To lose her would be 
losing himself - he would not live without her. Yet he also knew 
that nothing he could say would stop her. 
     "Mulder, for goodness sake's stop it. Ground yourself 
now!" Reinald reached out to grab Mulder's hand as heavy black 
clouds formed in the pointed top of the tent. Mulder yanked his 
arm away and leaped to his feet. Surveying them all with ice-cold 
eyes, he turned to leave. "Maybe a good soaking will bring you 
to your senses," he said bitterly. Buckets of rain poured 
downward within the tent even as Mulder stopped out into the 
bright morning sunshine.
                              - - - - -

     
     The cliffs rose in huge, nearly flat sheets of white-lined 
rock straight up from the fields below. Only the most careful 
observer would note the small dots of caves and crevices that 
wound their way into the base of the towering stone slabs. The 
hidden province of the gargoyle miners, some of the caverns were 
filled with huge crystal formations and bubbling pools of 
subterranean heated water. 
     It was beside one such pool that Scully and Tarnor 
found Mulder, his boots tossed carelessly aside, his feet plunged 
into the hot water, while he rested on his back across a slab of 
bright red crystal. Staring straight up at the glittering stalactites 
hanging in massive formations from the cavern's ceiling, he didn't 
react to the echoing sounds of their footsteps. Scully let go of her 
anxious guide's hand, and indicated he should go back with a tilt 
of her head. In response to the gargoyle's worried look, she 
smiled and patted him on the shoulder.
     "We'll be okay," she reassured. "Go on." Glancing from 
her to the lanky recumbent figure on the rock, Tarnor shook his 
head, then ambled back out of the cavern leaving them alone.
     Scully walked over and sat down beside Mulder, tucking 
her feet underneath her. He turned his head to look at her silently 
for a moment, his eyes dark and clouded.
     "Mulder..." she started to speak, but he interrupted her 
with a wave of his hand.
     "Do what you have to do, Scully," he said tonelessly, 
turning his head back to continue glaring at the cavern's glittering 
ceiling.
     "Stop it!" she yelled. "Just stop it!"
     "Stop what?" Mulder's voice was calm and reasonable, 
he glanced at her with wide-eyed surprise.
     "Stop shutting me out," she insisted angrily, reaching 
out to tighten her hand around his upper arm.
     "I don't know what you mean, Scully," he replied even 
as he disentangled himself from her hand and sat up, putting 
several long inches between them.
     "You know exactly what I mean, Mulder. I won't let 
you do this. Not now."
     "I'm not..."  "Ouch!" Mulder rubbed his cheek, 
staring at her with an aggrieved, little-boy innocence. "You hit 
me!"
     "Yes," she replied firmly, "and I'll do it again, unless you 
cut the crap and start talking to me." One look at the set of her 
jaw and the determination in her bright eyes and he knew she 
really meant it.
     "Scully..." he paused for a moment, not knowing how to 
begin, what to say.
     "Yes..." she prodded, none too gently. Miserable, he 
curled up into a ball, pulling his feet up out of the water, pressing 
his knees to his chest, and hugging his legs. "Don't do this, 
Scully. Let someone else go. It doesn't HAVE to be you!" His 
voice rose, slipping off the last word.
     She closed her eyes for a brief second, then looked 
straight into his eyes. "I wish it didn't have to be me, Mulder. 
Believe me, the last thing I ever wanted to do is play bait for an 
army of monsters. But it has to be, just as it has to be you and 
Reinald who have to find a way to end this thing. I know I am 
asking you to put your life on the line too, that if I die, the life-
bond could pull you under with me..." Her voice broke off as 
Mulder shook his head head at her, then turned to stare down 
into the bubbling, steaming water. Even without the open link 
between their minds she knew instantly he was thinking that his 
life didn't matter, only hers did. That realization made her angry. 
     "Do you think I haven't worried about you?" She 
shouted. "About what it might do to you to try to create a vortex 
here? Reinald's one attempt at manipulating an already existing 
vortex nearly killed him." Suddenly it all poured out of her. "How 
many times have you ran off and put yourself into danger without 
even telling me? Mulder! Do you have even the slightest idea 
how I felt each time you disappeared, running off to Wisconsin, 
Arecibo - the damned North Pole, for God's sake! If I hadn't 
gotten there in time, you'd be DEAD! Dead..." She stopped for a 
moment, drawing a shuddering breath. He opened his mouth to 
speak, but she stalled him with one burning glance. "No, Mulder, 
this time you're going to hear me out. I'm sick and tired of your 
trying to protect me, then taking unconscionable risks with your 
own life. We're supposed to be partners, supposed to share the 
risk. God knows I don't want to do this alone - I don't 
particularly want to do it all - but I have to do it, with or without 
you. So which is it going to be? Are you going to trust me to 
carry my share of the responsibility, or do I have to go it alone? 
Because, if you won't be with me, then I might as well go play 
bait - that's about all that will be left of me." Drained, furious, 
terrified, she came to a stop and buried her head in her arms 
while Mulder stared at her, his jaw hanging in amazement.
     "Dana?" His voice was barely a whisper as he reached 
out to touch her arm. She jerked away from the contact, the tears 
that has been threatening finally cascading down her cheeks in 
audible sobs.
     "Dana, I'm sorry," he replied helplessly, totally unable to 
cope with her tears. He'd only seen her cry twice before, after 
she'd been kidnapped by Pfaster and when she was forced to 
euthanize the injured man at Wide River. He'd hated it then, but 
this was even worse because it was HIS fault. The barrier he'd 
been holding up between them shifted, wavered, and collapsed 
under the flood of his guilt. Scully shook as she was hit by the 
waves of shame, Mulder felt his own eyes begin to fill with salty 
moisture as he was rocked by her fear and anguish. Almost 
before either one of the knew they were moving, the space 
between them was breached, Mulder wrapping his arms around 
her and clutching her against him. She buried her head against his 
chest nestling into the iron warmth of his embrace.
     After an all too brief embrace, she forced herself to push 
him away. As powerful as their psychic connection was, this was 
something she had to say aloud, if only for emphasis.
     "This is NOT your fault." She articulated each word 
slowly and precisely. "You are NOT responsible for bringing me 
here, or for putting me in danger. Coming here was an accident - 
or fate, perhaps - and I have chosen all my own risks since I've 
been here. Unless you brought the Destroyers and their minions 
here, you are not at fault for any of this. One more feeling of guilt 
and I'll really kick your butt...and don't think I can't."
     Mulder let a bubble of laughter work its way out of his 
throat. "I would never doubt your capability, Scully. My bottom 
is sore enough from the many times you've dumped me on it."
     "Good," she replied, closing her eyes and snuggling 
deeper into his arms, breathing in the unique, familiar smell of his 
body.
     They held onto each other for what seemed like hours, 
the emotions racing back and forth between them. Finally, the 
internal storm calmed enough to let them exchange more 
coherent thoughts. Foremost in both their minds was the horror 
of losing the other. Even if Scully didn't bait the trap, there was 
no guarantee that either one would survive the upcoming battle. 
Neither could tolerate the idea of the other being hurt or killed, 
both wanted to protect the other, almost at any cost. But in the 
end, they both knew there was no way to avoid the upcoming 
war and their roles in it. They couldn't abandon the friends they'd 
made here. Both felt called to try to stop the Dark invasion of 
this peaceful world, especially since they knew that it was their 
world that had originally created the vortex. 
     "Fox," she lifted her head to meet his liquid brown eyes 
with the gentle blue of hers. "Please help me through this. I..." He 
silenced her with a passionate kiss, his mind reaching out to twine 
with hers, offering acceptance, understanding, support...though 
he couldn't hide the knife edge of fear, the twist of guilt, the 
buried anger that still colored his thoughts.
     She responded eagerly, drinking in the taste of his 
mouth, suckling on his tongue as it stroked behind her teeth. Her 
mind fused to his, mixing her own emotions with his, fear and 
desire, love and terror.  He reached up and traced her nose and 
eyelids, then drew his finger down across her cheekbone to her 
mouth. She sighed softly as he rubbed her lips, then stretched out 
her tongue to lick the sensitive pad of his fingertip. Moaning deep 
in his throat, he slipped his hand under her chin and tilted her 
head upwards to again meet his descending mouth.
     She arched herself upwards to accept the demands of his 
kiss, her mouth hungrily devouring the taste of his. She twined 
her fingers though the silky darkness of his hair, using battle-
trained muscles to pin his head still while she thrust her tongue 
deeply between his teeth, almost touching the back of his throat. 
A touch of laughter echoed from his mind to hers, and he closed 
his teeth down on her tongue while he stroked the underside of it 
with the tip of his. As their tongues, teeth, mouths continued to 
duel and caress, he ran his hands over every curve of her body, 
delighting in the firmness of the muscles, the softness of her 
breasts, the heat between her legs.
     Emitting a whistling groan that was swallowed into his 
mouth, Scully shifted her position to allow his hand deeper access 
to the now-aching region between her legs, wishing for a way to 
strip the clothes off their bodies without having to lose one 
second of his touch on her or her touch on him. His lips curving 
into a smile as he moved downwards to suckle on the sensitive 
skin in the hollow of her throat, he soundlessly sent her the 
thought, 'Your wish is my command.'
     As always, some amazement penetrated the whirlwind 
of desire possessing her mind when Scully felt Mulder summon 
and focus the mage energy. She shivered slightly in his embrace 
as the electric-like currents spun a fine, blue, glowing web around 
both of their bodies, leaping from his skin to hers like mini-
lightning bolts. She felt the strength of his will fighting for - and 
finding - control, and then the sudden twist of release.
     "Whhat?" she gasped, as the heavy chain mail and 
leather she was wearing glowed blue, then melted away, leaving 
her skin exposed to the hot and cold currents of air. Drawing her 
hands down his now-naked back, she pressed herself tighter 
against the heat of his skin, giggling slightly against his forehead, 
then lowering her head so that she could meet his amused, green-
tinged eyes. He gave her a slow smile of such endearing warmth 
that her heart skipped a beat, a mix of tenderness and passion 
rushing through her heart.
     "Dana..." he breathed her name in so soft a velvety 
whisper, that she wasn't certain whether he'd said it aloud, or 
simply thought it. She responded with her mind, sending her own 
private image of him back down the bond-link; not "Fox," not 
"Mulder," but rather the very essence of him as seen through the 
filter of her love. "Dana..." again came his fully psychic response, 
as they shared another deep kiss, bodies pressing together, sliding 
past each other in search of the deepest possible contact. Using 
his shoulders as leverage, she pushed herself upwards to move 
her legs around his back. He slipped a hand under her and 
supported her as she came to rest upon him, arms and legs now 
locked behind his back. Then leaning downwards, he tried to 
lower her to the surface of the crystal beneath them. However, 
without the friction created by the now-absent clothing, the slick 
surface of the rock gave way, and entwined together, they slid 
downwards, landing with a splash into the heated pool below.
     Both came up sputtering, still grasping onto each other. 
"Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, rubbing the dripping hair 
back off his forehead.
     "Yes, I'm okay," she said with laughter in her voice. He 
grinned back at her, his eyes alight with the sight of her beauty. 
Standing on the bottom of the pool, the water lapping about his 
hips, he reached up to push his fingers through her hair, finding 
and releasing the pins one by one. She closed her eyes and leaned 
back slightly in the hot water which just barely covered the 
hardened tips of her breasts, enjoying the sense of utter 
contentment.
     The handful of pins clattered on the rocks as Mulder 
tossed them away. Then ran his hands through her hair, bringing 
it down to cover her shoulders and upper slopes of her flushed 
breasts in a riot of auburn tendrils. She sighed softly, not yet 
opening her eyes, her hips pressed up against his abdomen, her 
back half-floating on the water. He lowered one hand to rest 
under the small of her back, caressing the wet skin in slow gentle 
circles, while he leaned down over her to press soft kisses against 
her face and neck.
     Moving her hands around his back to anchor tightly 
against him, she abandoned herself to his caresses, delighting in 
the tingles of the nerves within her skin as his hands and mouth 
roamed over her body, ever so slowly, ever so tenderly, exploring 
each sweet, scented inch. The water bubbled over her skin, 
frothing between his fingers, flowing in warm waves over her 
belly and chest, meeting the probe of fingers into the most 
sensitive parts of her body. He traced her back and buttocks with 
one hand, while the other cupped the soft mounds of her chest, 
bringing a pebbled nipple up into the demanding heat of his 
mouth. A cry of ecstasy escaped her lips as he nibbled and bit at 
her, generating a furnace of need in the pit of her belly.
     While his mouth continued to suckle at her breasts, he 
drew one hand up the insides of her thighs in long sure stokes, 
pressing the palm of his hand deeply into the solid, muscled flesh; 
teasing the skin of her abdomen with light brushes of the 
fingertips of his other hand. Digging her hands into the powerful 
muscles of his shoulders, she convulsed up against him, legs 
spreading outward in invitation, her head falling backwards to 
rest on the water,  her hair fanning out around them. Lifting his 
head to kiss her already swollen, red lips, he then looked deeply 
into her eyes as he met her unspoken command, plunging two if 
his fingers into the moist depths of her body, using his thumb to 
find and caress the throbbing center of her desire. His body shook 
with hers, the strength of her orgasm flooding them both in 
concentric waves of pleasure, drawing a cry from him as he 
struggled to maintain his control.
     Floating down to awareness, she gave him a glowing 
smile, claiming another deep kiss, then shifted to an upright 
position. Clamping her knees around his hips, she began to return 
his caresses, exploring his body with her hand and mouth, teasing 
his small nipples, tracing each line of muscle and bone. Sighing 
with delight, he gently lifted her head so he could look into her 
eyes. Her face was bright with love and amusement, joy and 
pleasure, her eyes wide and brilliant, her mouth parted in a gentle 
smile. Wet strands of bright red hair framed her face, a few 
tendrils pasted to the creamy skin. His eyes darkened in a 
returning flood of desire as his mind told her in a way that could 
never be verbalized just how beautiful she was.
     Her smile deepened as she returned the wave of love 
and admiration, leaning up to share a gentle soothing kiss. They 
rested in each other's arms for a few moments enjoying the simple 
closeness. Then, as desire slowly began to build again, they 
moved in total unison to sheath his aroused manhood into the 
moist center of her body. She slid down over him in perfect ease, 
fitting him like a glove. Tightening her vaginal muscles around 
him instinctively, she locked her arms and legs back around his 
shoulders and waist, glorying in the sense of oneness. He cupped 
her bottom with strong, but gentle hands and began to move her 
slowly against him. Sighing with pleasure, she used the satin-
sheathed iron of his shoulders as a ballast, going with his 
movements, quickening the pace at which she slid along his 
length. Again claiming her mouth, his tongue mimicked the 
motions below, causing her to purr deep in her throat. Her body 
surrendering to the power of his, yet equally demanding in its 
pursuit of their ultimate union; she answered each thrust of his 
hips with a thrust of hers, each  plunge of his tongue with a 
plunge of hers, rocketing them both into a maelstorm of ecstasy 
and fulfillment.
     Minds melding into the heat of their bodies, emotions 
and sensations feeding off each other, they slid over the edge of 
the volcano and tumbled into the furnace below, neither hearing 
the other's cry - or their own - as they again fused into one being: 
one mind, one body, one soul.
                         
                   -----------------


     "You are not going." Jourdain's voice was velvety steel, 
his expression forbidding. Dwarfed, but unintimidated, Aldara 
glared up at the big man. "I am going. Scully needs me." She 
enunciated each word slowly and carefully, "There is no way that 
I am going to let her face this without me." Pivoting on her heels, 
she turned away.
     "No, you are my officer and you have a job to do here." 
Worry and terror driving his anger, Jourdain reached out to grab 
her arm, pulling her back against him, only to jump back in shock 
as he found a knife pressed to his belly. "Don't ever touch me like 
that again," Aldara's eyes flashed emerald fury, her jaw gritted in 
fury. "And don't ever assume that just because you're bigger than 
me that you can push me around. This is a volunteer mission, and 
I am going whether it meets your fancy or not. I've taken care of 
myself quite well since I was a child, I can do so now." She 
poked him with the tip of the knife, then spun away, her small 
strides still eating up the ground as she left him behind.
     "Aldara!!!" he yelled after her, but she was gone, 
slipping into the chaos of the crowded camp with practiced ease. 
"By the gods," he swore, slumping to the ground. Of all the 
impossible, outrageous, reckless women in the Realm, why had 
he gotten stuck with that one. But a voice inside him reminded 
him all too clearly of why he had come to love the fiery, dark 
half-elf. He'd thought he'd never feel again the way he had about 
his late wife - and perhaps that was true. His feelings for Aldara 
were very different than his feelings for the sweet, gentle Niera. 
One had been his solace, his haven, the other was a constant 
pinprick under his skin; he couldn't stop arguing with her, he 
couldn't stop wanting her. And now she'd decided to risk herself 
on a suicide mission. He buried his head in his hands as he sat 
dejectedly in the dirt, feeling an intense sympathy for the foreign 
mage. Somehow Jourdain doubted Mulder had gotten any further 
with Scully than he had with Aldara.
                         - - - - -

     Blinking as he walked out into the sunshine, Mulder 
turned to Scully who was walking silently beside him. "You are 
really going to do this, aren't you?"
     "Yes, I have to," she replied. "Just as you have to help 
Reinald create the vortex." She laughed, but it was an unhappy 
sound. "I think I may be safer with the Dark Forces than you will 
be messing with that much energy." She came to a halt and 
peered anxiously up at him. "Do you really think that you can 
handle this?"
     He stopped in mid-stride and turned back to look down 
at her. Shrugging his shoulders, he answered, "I'm not sure. 
Reinald was able to open it to bring us through, and we have 
been able to recreate it on a small sale, though not for long. I 
guess we won't know until we try - it's too dangerous to practice 
in full-scale - so we'll find out tomorrow night."
     "That's not exactly encouraging, Mulder." She said, 
walking up past him towards the camp.
     "I know," he responded, falling in step beside her. "But 
its the only way to stop them. We'll never win with swords and 
knives. What I wouldn't give for a truckload of machine guns."
     "I'd prefer a couple stealth bombers, or better yet, a 
couple Patriot missiles." They grinned at each other, then both 
sighed and shook their heads. No use dreaming for the 
impossible. In silent, tense contemplation of the battle ahead, they 
walked together into the camp.
                         - - - - -
     
     Fairwood Crossing was no more than a deep crevasse 
between two sharp mountain peaks, a narrow winding ridge of 
rock that could carry no more than one horse, or two men 
walking abreast. It hugged the curves of the mountain edge, small 
loose pebbles tumbling down across and over it to vanish into the 
dark depths of the ravine. A few scraggly vines and trees clung 
desperately to its edge, their roots digging deep into the unsteady 
earth, clinging precariously to life. Dana Scully felt like she was 
sitting on the edge of just such a precipice as she stood looking 
across the empty air to the darkened landscape beyond. 
     On the other side of the mountain, the earth crawled 
with creatures worse than her most terrible nightmares. Things 
with the eyes of and mouths of beasts in twisted human faces 
wandered among lizard-like beings with foot-long jaws and 
layered rows of reddened teeth, half-human, half-lupine creatures 
with glowing eyes and clawed feet, blood-covered shapes that 
writhed and slithered along the ground, their featureless, eyeless 
heads shifting and shaking with every movement, and shimmering 
black spider webs that appeared and disappeared in pockets of 
pure dark nothingness that swallowed the very air itself.
     The Realm soldiers guarding this side of the path were 
worn and haggard, eyes haunted and red-lined. They spoke in no 
more than whispers, heads jerking in response to the slightest 
sound, even the barest whistle of the wind. Scully turned to meet 
Aldara's hooded green eyes, nodding slightly, receiving the 
slightest flicker of a response. Behind the two women, the 
remainder of the volunteer unit stood in grave silence, seven men 
and two women, each a survivor, each having lost all that was 
worth living for to the nightmare they were preparing to face 
again. Scully didn't know each of the stories in detail, but she'd 
seen enough over the past months to have a painfully accurate 
idea of what the tales might be. She had picked up too many 
pieces of human wreckage. And that was not ignoring the horrors 
suffered by the other races of the Realm, to Scully they were all 
'human' now - as was anyone capable of love and goodness - in 
comparison to the living nightmares crawling on the rocks 
beyond the all-too-short divide.
     As it became obvious that dusk was beginning to fall, 
Scully drew a deep breath and sent a fervent prayer upwards to 
all and any Gods there might be, her hand pressing unconsciously 
into the hollow of her throat where her mother's cross lay hidden 
under her leather tunic and the heavy silver-armor. Then turning 
back to lead her nervous horse back away from the path's edge, 
she barked out a staccato series of instructions to the guards. 
     "They'll try to cross as soon as the sun goes down. Hurj, 
you and your archers should fire some warning shots, then pull 
back up into the caverns to your right. Mulder and Flordan will 
have a Gate ready to retrieve you. When the time comes, move 
FAST. We'll have a cavalry unit ready to come through from the 
other side to flank in behind the Dark Army as soon as it passes.
     "Jakeer, you and your people should give them a good 
fight. Make them feel like they're working for it, but do not 
sacrifice yourselves unnecessarily. Let them think you're 
retreating, then get out of the way. Reinald and Giels have a Gate 
set up just over the next rise to your left, as soon as I give the 
signal, get to it, and leave things to us. There'll be a troll unit 
ready to come through after you've cleared the Gate."
     Eyes grim, she turned back to her ten volunteers. "This 
is it. If there is anyone who wants to back out now, no one will 
question you." She peered intently from one set, determined face 
to another, each met her gaze squarely, fiercely. 
     "We're with you," Aldara's voice was deadly calm, only 
the glitter of her emerald eyes betraying the emotions within. 
Like the others, she held herself like a rattlesnake prepared to 
strike.
     Scully took a deep breath, wishing she could talk her 
friend out of this, but knowing deep inside that nothing she could 
say would change the half-elf's stubborn mind. And Scully 
couldn't help feeling a rush of gratitude that her friend was here 
with her. It helped immeasurably not to be facing this alone.
     "You're not alone...never alone..." came the softest of 
echoes in the corner of her mind. "Mulder," she sighed under her 
breath.  Even over several kilometers, their life-bond was strong 
enough for him to be heard. She closed her eyes for a brief 
second savoring the love and support that trickled over that 
tenuous, precious link. Then she opened her eyes and nodded, 
accepting Aldara's words on behalf on the small company.
     "Okay, we'll settle in behind Jakeer's group. Stay back 
until I signal, then race forward to fill the breach while the others 
slip away. We'll charge the lead creatures, sting them as hard as 
we can, then run back away. Be QUICK!" She glared at them, 
trying to force her orders home. "We want to anger them, bring 
them after us. And we need to get out of it alive. They won't 
follow us into the trap if we're dead. So it doesn't matter if you 
kill, maim, or miss your target. One strike and then RUN! Is that 
understood!"
     Ten heads nodded understanding, ten pairs of eyes met 
hers in unblinking concordance.
     Before Scully could give the order to take their 
positions, one of the sentry's gave a ringing yell.
     "They're coming, they're coming!" Without a single 
more word spoken, the assembled Realm forces scattered into 
position, each person, human, elf, or gargoyle finding their 
assigned spot in a rapid, noiseless scramble. Scully and her unit 
mounted their horses in a unison, fluid motion, racing back to 
shelter behind a big outcrop of granite stone. Peering just around 
the edge, Scully's eyes widened in a mix of terror and rage as she 
watched the flood of creatures begin to cross the divide.
     Arrows whistled in the darkened air as Hurj and his 
gargoyle archers let fly a deadly volley of spell-tipped arrows. 
Screams rent the air as four of the hunters and one of the 
crawlers stumbled, two sliding from the edge. The other two 
bodies were simply ignored by their fellows, crushed underneath 
as more and more of the monsters pushed their way across. As 
the first Destroyer passed the mangled bodies, it swooped down 
a long claw and picked up a broken forearm and bit into it with 
manic pleasure.
     Two more volleys of arrows, the last fire-tipped, then 
the archers fell back, melding into the rocks like shadows. The 
attention of the Dark forces was immediately seized by the 
shrieking battle cry of the human soldiers. Names of the various 
clan houses filling the air, they took up position at the edge of the 
pass, a place so narrow, the creatures had to attempt to pass one 
by one. The battle raged for a brief span of time, a time that still 
seemed endless to Scully and Aldara as they watched from their 
sheltered vantage point. The hunters and crawlers clambered over 
the fallen bodies heedlessly, the soul-eaters leaping into the air, 
crying their hunger towards the rising moons. 
     Slowly, ever so slowly, the human forces slipped 
backwards, giving up ground inch by apparently reluctant inch. 
One soldier, overcome with fury and terror, ignored his orders 
and threw himself up over the backs of the hunters, managing to 
launch a flashing knife directly into the eyes of the lead 
Destroyer, before he fell to the ground to be torn apart limb by 
limb between a soul-eater and a small hunter. The doomed man's 
screams of mixed triumph and excruciating pain mixed with those 
of the blinded monster as it drew the knife out its eyes, blood 
spurting from the wound.
     Other men fell too, one drawn into the gaping mouth of 
a misshapen crawler, another tossed up into the air to fall into the 
mouths of three hunters. Another soldier used his sword to 
cleave off his own leg at the knee, leaving the bloody stump in 
the mouth of a soul-eater, dragging himself backward on one leg, 
until another soldier could carry him out of the way.
     As the monsters slowly fanned out onto the ledge, 
Scully gave a piercing whistle which was taken up by Aldara and 
Jakeer. In a carefully planned and perfectly executed drill, the 
two forces changed positions before the Dark Forces even knew 
it was occurring. Blinded by the taste of blood and flesh, and 
consumed by the driving need for more, they never noticed that 
the faces of their targets altered. Jakeer and his men melded back 
into the shadows, slipping up the rocks and out of sight, while 
Scully and her small unit charged forward with whooping cries 
and swords flashing brightly in the double-moonlight.
     Scully rode like an avenging angel, her hair a glowing 
red, her eyes flashing blue fire, her sword scything through the air 
like a lightning bolt. Aldara was her dark mirror, hair floating 
around her face in a ebony cloud, eyes brighter than emeralds, 
sword in one hand, knife in the other, controlling her terror-
stricken stallion with no more than the pressure of her knees. 
Side by side they drove straight for the lead monsters, swiping 
out in every direction with the deadly silver blades.
     Scully choose one large hunter, and in one precisely-
timed stroke, half-severed its neck, then yanking back on the 
reins with her other hand, she pivoted her rearing horse on its 
hind legs and raced back the way she had come. Aldara was only 
seconds behind her, leaving the small silver knife embedded in the 
dripping nose of the crawler that had consumed one of the 
soldiers, her sword burning with the guts of a soul-eater.
     Seven of the others were quickly behind them, leaving 
two casualties behind, a woman whose screams of triumph 
degenerated into agony as her horse was literally eaten out from 
under her. Falling into the claws of the monsters, she bravely 
took two of them with her into death. The last man almost made 
it free, but was taken from behind by one of the dark spider webs, 
his cries literally sucked out of his mouth. Not waiting to let it 
drain him slowly, he found enough remaining strength to sever 
his own throat in one desperate slash of his knife.
     Howls split the air as his spurting blood creating a 
feeding frenzy among the monsters, tumbling over each other to 
steal a taste of the sticky red fluid. Then in a burst of resumed 
blood-lust, they chased blindly after the fleeing riders, pressing 
each other onward in a violent stampede, causing the ground 
itself to shake, seemingly in revulsion of the horrors that ran and 
crawled over its helpless surface.
     Just barely holding a small distance between them and 
their pursuers, Scully and her group rode like the wind, knees and 
feet digging into the sides of horses that hardly needed the 
direction. nothing would have stopped the frightened animals 
now. Nothing, but a misstep on the rocky ground.
     "Aldara!!!!" Scully screamed in horror as her friend's 
horse stumbled and crashed to the ground a few paces in front of 
her, rolling its huge weight over the tiny half-elf.  "Go! Go!" 
Scully ordered the others, swooping down off her horse to pull 
Aldara away from the wounded steed, which was struggling to 
find its feet, whinnying in pain as it broken leg couldn't take the 
weight.
     "Get out of here," Aldara yelled through gritted teeth at 
Scully, trying to push her away. Scully didn't bother wasting the 
breath on reply, she simply grabbed Aldara under her arms and 
yanked her to her feet, causing Aldara to gasp in pain as weight 
came down on a shattered foot. The howls of the monsters 
getting closer and closer behind them, Scully tried desperately to 
lever Aldara onto her horse, but was unable to do so. Slipping in 
and out of consciousness, Aldara was dead weight in Scully's 
arm, her small size belying the heaviness of her well-trained 
muscles.
     A whinnying scream rent the air as Aldara's horse was 
claimed by a pair of soul-eaters. Scully turned to look over 
Aldara's shoulder, only to find herself looking straight into huge 
open mouth of a hunter. It grinned wickedly at her, almost willing 
to play with a helpless prey before claiming it. "Noooo!" Scully 
wasn't sure if the cry was even hers, as she somehow found 
strength she didn't know she had to toss Aldara up onto the back 
of the other horse. Then she drew her sword, pivoting warily as 
she realized they were surrounded.
     One of the hunters swiped out at her and she took its 
foreclaw off in one clean sweep. Two more circled in on her, and 
she barely escaped being crushed between them, only her small 
size and quick speed saving her. Ducking and twisting, she 
fought what she knew was a hopeless battle, praying only to take 
as many of them with her as she could.
     "Nooo," another cry of rage and terror split through her 
mind, this time accompanied by a wave of burning energy. 
"Mulder!" she screamed her name as a soul-eater rushed between 
her legs, spilling her to the ground, the sword clattering out of 
her hand as it struck a jagged rock. The creatures moved in on 
her, only to jerk back whining as bolts of blue lightning sizzled 
across her skin and up though the air. Thunder roared above, as 
the air thickened.
     "Aaahhh," Scully groaned aloud, her body convulsing on 
the ground as unbelievable currents of power coursed through 
her, setting her veins on fire, sending shocks racing up every 
nerve in her body. Drawn in by the alluring mage energy, the two 
soul-eaters grew closer in an attempt to feed, but found 
themselves tossed several feet in the air as a flash of white 
lightning hit the ground between them, mixing with the blue fire 
sparking the air around Scully.
     Stumbling to her feet, she felt the fire grow in her until it 
was nearly unbearable, unable to understand or control the 
incessant waves of energy that flowed through her. "Mulder!" she 
cried again, body jerking again as his mind flew along the streams 
of power, fusing with hers, bringing the control she needed. 
Together, minds melded to one purpose, they created a ring of 
blue flames around Scully, her horse, and the unconscious 
Aldara. Then surrendering control of part of her mind to Mulder, 
allowing him maintain the power through her, she forced her 
aching body up onto the rearing, wild-eyed horse, reining it in 
tightly while she secured Aldara to the saddle, the wounded half 
elf's arms and legs hanging limply off either side of the horse.
     Once they were both settled on the horse, Scully sat for 
a moment, amazed by the incredible waves of power that flowed 
into her mind and out of her body, utterly controlled by the fierce 
will of her life-mate. She'd experienced him in her mind before, 
and had felt him exercise his talent, but never quite so intimately. 
This time she was part of it, she could direct it, direct him. The 
sense of power was almost overwhelming, she felt exultant, 
charged, like she was riding a whirlwind. But a moaning sob from 
Aldara broke her concentration, and she reluctantly eased back 
on the link with Mulder. Sensing instantly what she needed, he 
gave her one deep rush of love and affection, then released the 
link - and the mage-energy - in one booming, blinding explosion. 
Shielding her eyes, Scully forced her horse into an almost instant 
gallop, her head and body bent down over its neck, her feet 
pounding into its flanks. snorting, it raced over the rocks, kicking 
up clouds of dirt, eating up the ground in long rapid strides.
     Holding on to both the horse and Aldara for dear life, 
Scully drove them forward at an nearly impossible pace, actually 
catching up with and passing the remainder of her troop. They 
hardly noticed she was there, never altering their run, never 
looking behind. Together, they led the Dark Army through the 
mountains, across a trickling stream and up onto the edge of the 
Urrin plains, bringing their bloodlust-blinded pursuers ever 
deeper into the trap.
                         
                         
                   -----------------


     Jourdain stood at the cavern's lip staring out over the 
dusty plains. Turning, he paced back and forth in the shadows, 
pausing every so often to peer again over the moonlit grassland, 
watching for the tell-tale signs on movement on the horizon that 
would signal the approach of the enemy led by the remainder of 
Scully's small troop. A man more accustomed to action than 
contemplation, Jourdain felt itchy and uneasy. But with the 
troops were all set and waiting, the Gates installed, everyone in 
place, all he could do was wait. Already the Dark Army was on 
the move, heading straight for the trap that had been so carefully 
set. A trap - or a disaster - Jourdain wasn't sure what the 
outcome would be.
      His heart twisted in his breast as he recalled Mage 
Mulder's half-sorrowing, half-reassuring words. Only six 
members of the original ten volunteers had still been alive when 
they passed the sentries hiding in the abandoned village of 
Erensto. Two had fallen in the first skirmish, two more along the 
road. Almost three - the thought made Jourdain want to scream 
with his sense of helplessness. Mulder had insisted that Aldara 
was alive, clinging stubbornly to life in Scully's arms. "Stubborn," 
Jourdain laughed bitterly, that certainly described the fiery, dark-
haired woman who had become the center of his life, even in the 
middle of what could become the end of their world. Briefly 
closing his eyes in agony, he prayed that she would make it 
through this alive, though he was well aware of the irony of 
hoping for one person's survival, when all could perish.
     "Jourdain?" Mulder stepped up beside the bigger man so 
quietly, Jourdain didn't notice he was there until the mage's voice 
broke the silence. Pulling into a fighting stance automatically, 
Jourdain forced himself to relax as he recognized his companion. 
"Any word?"
     Mulder tensed, then shrugged, his eyes darkening. 
"They're covering ground pretty well, but it should still be 
another hour before they get to the change point. The 
replacement unit is ready - and getting anxious. Gera is holding 
the Gate, we'll bring them directly to the cavern Corvay has 
preempted as a Healing site." He brushed long tendrils of black 
hair out of his eyes, absently wishing that he'd taken the time to 
cut it, but there never had been the time to think of such things. 
The few stolen moments not spent in preparation for this night 
had been focused solely on Scully. He didn't begrudge a second 
of that time, he just wished there had been more.
     "They are alive," Mulder knew he was reassuring 
himself as much as the grizzled soldier standing tensely beside 
him. "My sense for Scully increases as she gets closer. She's 
nearly exhausted, but still hanging on. The images are shaky, but 
I think Aldara is unconscious, but alive. Perhaps it is best she's 
not aware right now."
     Jourdain nodded his head, still eyeing the plains, not 
trusting himself to speak. With total understanding, Mulder 
reached out to grasp the other man's shoulder, then silently re-
entered the cave. 
                         - - - - -

     Bending down over the neck of the sweating horse, 
Scully hung on for dear life as they raced across the small stream, 
spewing up splashes of ice-cold water. The wind tore at the skin 
of her face and hands, whipped her hair loose from its bindings, 
and bit at her lungs. Clenching her teeth, she urged the 
increasingly exhausted animal below her onward with tightly 
wedged knees, though the whining howls and bitter stench of the 
horde following all too closely behind was a much stronger 
stimulus to the horse's instincts than the weakening pressure of its 
rider.
     Tears stinging her bloodshot eyes as she lifted her head 
to gauge their course, Scully tightened her grip on Aldara's limp 
body, and pulled the horse slightly to the right. It resisted for a 
moment, then gave in, for one direction was as good as another, 
as long as it was away from their pursuers. Scully didn't even 
bother to look behind her to see if the remnants of her small 
company had followed her lead, if they were still alive, they 
would be there. If they weren't, she didn't want to know.
     Closing down her mind to anything except the motion, 
the ground speeding away under the clatter of the horse's hooves, 
she focused solely on staying awake. Almost there, almost there, 
almost there...the words kept repeating in her mind, a mix of 
hope and utter desperation.
                         - - - - -

     "Go!" Karvan screamed, spurring his big white horse 
through the arching light of the Gate leading a group of seven 
elven warriors dressed in yellow leather and bright silver mail. 
Together the eight galloped in a neat arrowhead formation, 
Karvan leading, Guiran and Teedin forming the point. Breaking 
around a pile of crumbled rock, they burst out onto the far edge 
of the Uriin plains. Running at angle, they soon pulled up beside 
the ragged remnants of Scully's troop.
     Karvan immediately recognized the Traveller woman, 
her auburn hair blowing out behind her like a banner in the wind, 
the body of his half-cousin laying in front of her. The closest of 
her remaining volunteers was several paces behind, the man 
swaying dangerously in his saddle. The next was a woman, 
clutching blindly to her horse's mane, her face a bloody mass of 
tissue and broken bones. The last two men were riding double on 
an staggering horse, one man's leg dangling literally by a string, 
the flesh and bone clawed in half.
     Sickened, Karvan threw a horrified glance behind him, 
eyes widening in shock at the size of the Dark Army. It seemed 
to fill the entire horizon, like a giant black sea swallowing the 
land beneath it. For the first time truly realizing what they were 
up against, Karvan expertly paced himself to Scully's horse and 
reached out to grab her hand. Bent against the horse's neck, 
wind-scarred eyes centered on the ground ahead, she jolted, 
almost falling off the horse in sudden panic.
     "Easy, easy, Traveller Scully." Karvan's shouted words 
were whipped away by the wind. Scully gasped, reaching for her 
boot-knife, then relaxed slightly in relief as she recognized the 
dark-haired, slender elf. Meeting her eyes, Karvan nodded, then 
jerked his head to the right. "Around the next bend, take off to 
the right. You won't have long, be quick!" he reminded her.
     Her eyes flickered in understanding, pulling back on the 
reins just enough to let him race out ahead of her. Then she 
angled to the right, finally allowing herself to look back at the 
rest of her troop. A mixture of relief and anguish caught her, as 
she was grateful to see that half were still alive, but saddened to 
know which ones were gone. While maintaining a full gallop, the 
experienced elven riders assisted the almost exhausted human 
soldiers into a single file line to the far right. Then, just as the 
path ahead narrowed between two gigantic columns of rock, 
marking the edge of the Uriin plains, they began a rapid set of 
maneuvers, swords flashing reflected moonlight, sing-song war 
cries echoing in the wind, silver chain mail glittering. 
     Not wasting a second, Scully drew her horse behind the 
right stone tower, begging it for one final burst of speed. It 
obeyed long enough to bring them out of sight, then stumbled to 
its knees, gasping for breath, its mouth foaming. Scully went with 
it, sliding off it in one fluid motion, moaning as her legs began to 
crumble underneath her. Fighting for control, she forced her legs 
to support her, reaching out to untie Aldara.
     "We'll get her," a pair of strong arms accompanied the 
whispered words,  closing around Scully's waist and lifting her off 
the ground. Twisting to break free, she turned to come face-to-
face with a very familiar face.
     "Jourdain," she sighed in relief, letting herself sink into 
the welcoming warmth of his arms.
     Catching her as she slumped against him, Jourdain 
swung the small woman up over his shoulder and carried her 
towards the shimmering Gate. Only when he was sure that Scully 
was safely though the Gate and surrendered into the hands of a 
brown-robed Healer, did he race back to Aldara. Without a word, 
he gently, but firmly, removed her from the arms of the soldiers 
carrying her, a sob catching in his throat as she murmured and 
shifted in his grasp, pressing her head into the warmth of his 
chest. Holding her like an infant, supporting her head in the crook 
of his shoulder, he strode through the Gate, eyes shedding silent 
tears, rough features calm and set. Inside him a voice kept 
shouting in joy, she's alive, she's alive, she's alive!
                         - - - - -

     "Here, Traveller Scully, drink this," the young healer, 
her blond hair coiled over her human ears in thick braids was 
holding out a steaming cup of tea. Scully accepted it mutely, 
closing her reddened hands around the mug gratefully. Sitting on 
the edge of a makeshift bed, simply a pair of mattresses placed 
between rocks on the cavern floor, the room swirled around her, 
her body feeling like it was still in motion. She barely noticed 
when the hot tea scalded her throat.
     "Scully?" Corvay brushed the wings of auburn hair out 
of his apprentice's face. Blinking, she shook her head slightly, 
trying to bring his face into focus. "Corvay?" she asked in a 
trembling voice.
     "Yes, Scully, it's me. Are you hurt?" His pointy ears 
nearly twitching, he placed a cooling hand on her forehead. His 
touch was gentle on her wind-burned skin, while his mind 
soothing hers with gentle waves of comfort.
     "No, I'm okay," she replied automatically, slowly 
coming to awareness of her surroundings. The Healer unit looked 
rather like a distorted WWI army field hospital buried in a cave. 
Torches, lanterns and an occasional mage-light threw flickering 
streams of light over tables covered with bottles and jars, 
mattresses and blankets strewed among crystals and rock 
formations, pots of water boiling over small flames, scurrying 
personnel dressed in the healer's invariant brown robe, the white 
of the Priesthod, and the soldier's green leather. The war hadn't 
begun yet in earnest, and already there were casualties to be 
cared for. 
     Flooded with a mixture of relief, grief, and an emotion 
that felt almost like depression, she chugged down one more 
swallow of the tea, gasping slightly at its heat, then began an 
internal check. She sighed aloud as she realized that she was 
going to be VERY sore, but otherwise all right. Then reaching 
out along the length of the bond-link she brushed the edge of 
Mulder's mind, feeling a welcome rush of love and relief; 
affection and support. She sighed softly, not noticing the tear that 
traced its muddy way down her dusty cheek.
     Kneeling at her feet, Corvay smiled as he monitored her 
self-check, something that had been the hardest lesson for her to 
learn. Now, she did it like an expert, too caught up in the past 
events to notice what she was doing. He opened his mouth to 
praise her, but Scully interrupted before he had time to speak.
     "Aldara!" Scully jolted to her feet, knocking Corvay 
backwards, inwardly reprimanding herself. How could she have 
forgotten her friend, if only for a few minutes? As she came 
awkwardly to her unsteady feet, Corvay landed in an undignified 
heap of brown wool on the floor, muttering in annoyance. 
     "Where is she?" Ignoring his reaction, Scully abandoned 
her cup of tea, stepping directly over Corvay to run towards the 
Gate. Just as she came up to the brightly shimmering arch, 
Jourdain burst through it, Aldara cradled in his arms.
     "Quick," Scully shouted, her own exhaustion instantly 
forgotten. "Bring her over here." She tugged on Jourdain's 
sleeve, pulling him towards the bed she had just abandoned. 
Jourdain placed Aldara down gently on the mattress, only 
reluctantly letting go of her when Scully pushed him aside. 
Corvay gave Scully an irritated look, but let it subside, no time 
for questions of dignity now.
     "Well...is she going to be okay. Can you help her?" 
Jourdain stood anxiously at the end of the bed, balancing in 
frustration from heel-to-toe.
     "We'll do better without you making noise," Corvay 
grumbled, peering up at the Captain towering over him, his 
pointed ears twitching. "Surely you've got more important things 
to do than make our work more difficult." Dismissing Jourdain, 
Corvay turned his attention back to his patient, slipping easily 
into the healing trance. 
     Jourdain wanted to yell at the little elf, but he knew the 
healer was right. He had a war to fight and win. His personal 
concerns would have to wait. Muttering under his breath, "Take 
care of her," he spun on his heels and headed out towards the 
larger adjacent cavern leaving Aldara in Corvay and Scully's 
hands.
     Taking towels soaked in heated water and herbs, Scully 
began to clean Aldara's wounds. As much as she wanted to dive 
into the trance with Corvay and assist him in the internal healing, 
she knew that she was in no condition to help. The trance 
involved deep concentration and energy, but Scully was 
exhausted and unfocused. Images kept flooding her mind: the 
blood spurting from the young man's throat while his body was 
being consumed by the black web; soldiers being torn apart, limb 
from limb; rows of jagged teeth in a Hunter's jaw so close that 
she could smell the rotten stench of its breath; the horrible manic 
pleasure in the Destroyer's twisted features; the sight of the Dark 
Army covering the ground like a giant plague of locusts. Closing 
her eyes in anguish, she forced herself to concentrate on the 
simple task of caring for her wounded friend. 

                         
                   -----------------


     Mulder stood near the edge of the Sentinel cliff, peering 
anxiously towards the plains. In the midnight dark, they looked 
more like a giant ocean than a field of grass and weeds, the wind 
causing faint ripples across the dim surface. The two moons gave 
just enough light for him to see the oncoming enemy.  From the 
heights they resembled a giant black tidal wave, pushing a few 
flickering spots of light before them.  Shivering despite the 
warmth of his blue woolen cloak, he again reminded himself that 
Scully was no longer out there. He had known the moment 
Jourdain had helped her through the Gate to relative safety, 
feeling the miles between them collapse. Now that she was so 
much closer, he could sense her thoughts and emotions like an 
undercurrent in his mind. 
     He reached out to caress the edge of her mind, barely 
skimming the surface of her thoughts, catching a flash of Aldara's 
whitened face and an image of torchlight flickering across 
Corvay's white hair. She was worried and exhausted, but fighting, 
this time for her friend's life. A well-spring of love washed over 
him as he considered what an extraordinary woman Dana Scully 
was. It amazed him that a woman of such resilient courage and 
strength could love HIM. The certainty that she did, brought him 
a deep sense of joy. And the knowledge that she was alive and 
safe - as much as anyone in the Realm could be - gave him the 
strength to face the difficult ordeal ahead. 
     Reaching deep within himself, he exercized the mage 
power, wrapping his mind around the flow of energy, feeling it 
surge at his command. Then, shutting it back down, he remained 
standing still and silent on the cliff edge. Waiting for the battle to 
begin.
                         - - - - -

     The elven Riders had long since given up on anything 
but racing for their lives. Gone were the flashy shows of 
expertise, the intricate patterns and formations. Now they rode 
like the wind, a small group of silvered shapes running in the 
night, pursued by an army of demons.
     The Dark Army ran in a mighty stampede, the earth 
itself groaning underneath their weight. Collapsing into a thick, 
heavy stream of twisted shapes, they squeezed between the 
columns at the neck of the Uriin plains, pushing each other 
onward in a hungered frenzy. The slow among their own ranks 
were crushed under claw and slither, left mangled to expire in 
their own fluids, or more mercifully at the hands of the stealthy 
Realm units cleaning up behind their enemy. No survivors were 
spared, no quarter given.
     The watching Realm forces, hidden in the shadows of 
the cliffs, waited in grave silence until the last of the monsters 
cleared the bottleneck, nearly filling the massive plains with their 
immense number. But at last the trap was set, the die cast. The 
Time had come.
     Jourdain looked at Andalor and the representatives of 
the neighboring kingdoms. All three solemnly met his gaze, 
inclining their heads. The war leader bowed once, then strode 
towards the edge of the cavern. His eyes focused on the shining 
figures of the Riders closing in at breakneck speed, their light in 
sharp contrast to the heavy darkness all too close behind, he 
closed his eyes and, sending a fervent prayer, he gave one single, 
simple command: "Now!"
     Instantly the night turned into day, as the shimmering 
outline of Gates burst into being at the four corners of the plains. 
>From the center of the glowing arches flowed green-clad humans 
and silver-clad elves, gargoyles brandishing spears as long as they 
were tall, trolls waving spears and heavy wrought iron axes. 
Seeing only fresh sources of blood and tasty flesh, the Dark 
forces split into random chaos, the creatures bounding over each 
other to chase the most obvious morsel among the forces arrayed 
against them. From his vantage point at the cavern's edge, 
Jourdain could only hope that the lack of control and 
organization within the Dark hierarchy would give the Realm an 
advantage. 
     In the center of the plains the battle was a nightmare of 
shadows and screams. Here an elf went down under the claws of 
a hunter, there a troll hacked a screetching crawler into pieces. 
The Destroyers on their massive brutal mounts cut wide swaths 
through the Realm defenders, screams of triumph mixing with the 
cries of the dying. The spinning web-creatures drew victim after 
victim, leaving no more than dried and empty bones to clatter to 
the ground. One mage caught a webspinner in mid-meal, blasting 
it with a charge of blue fire. The blue light was instantly absorbed 
into the dark center, then like a tornado spewing out dust, it 
threw out the blue flames, shrinking in on itself into a pinpoint of 
darkness. Its half-digested victim collapsed to the ground, 
skeletal legs hanging from a steaming torso, his cries lost in amid 
the clamor of the battle.
     With a fervor borne of desperation, the Realm forces 
held the Dark Army to the Uriin plains, even using the growing 
piles of corpses as one more barrier - one more enticement - to 
keep the monsters trapped. One troll unit took down a destroyer, 
while nearly simultaneously a gargoyle unit fell below an 
onslaught of crawlers and hunters. Each win was bought at a 
bloody price, each loss brought them closer to final annihilation. 
                         - - - - - 

     Reaching behind him to touch the hilt of his sword, still 
encased in its sheath on his back, Jourdain  wished he were out 
there on the battlefield instead of being confined to the cave.
     "Someone must command, my friend. It is sometimes 
very much the harder chore." Reinald came to stand at his old 
friend's side, his face drawn and lined, combining with his 
whitened hair to give the impression of great age.
     Jourdain studied him for a moment, then stared out 
again at the battle raging in the moonlight. "Don't you have a 
spell to prepare?" he said abruptly. Reinald didn't respond for a 
moment, watching the other man closely. Then he wrapped his 
blue mage's cloak around him, and turned to leave.
     "Be ready. We may not be able to hold it for long." he 
warned as he stepped through a small Gate to the top of the 
cliffs.
     Jourdain didn't answer.
                         - - - - -

     Pausing in her rush to help to assist the latest casualty, 
Scully felt for Aldara's pulse. It beat strong and steady within the 
small woman's throat. At least she would survive, even if she had 
probably lost full use of her right leg. Scully was grateful for her 
friend's life, saddened at the many losses she knew were yet to 
come. Brushing back a wayward strand of orange-red hair, the 
tired but determined healer turned to help carry the broken figure 
of a troll towards one of the few remaining beds. Just as she 
settled the small bulky figure onto the mattress, she stumbled to 
her knees, gasping for breath.
     "Mulder...."
                         - - - - -
     
     "Mulder," Reinald's mindvoice was quiet, but certain. 
"It's time."
     Mulder threw one last glance at the raging combat so far 
below, then turned to stand shoulder to shoulder with his teacher 
and friend. Their minds linked with the ease of long practice, 
power lancing between their tall, stark figures and throwing 
sparks of blue fire out into the night. Standing against the 
darkened sky, their bodies were soon enveloped in a bright blue 
glow, the clouds gathering above their heads in response to the 
concentrated energy. Lightning lit the sky in a brilliant show of 
light, striking down among the combatants, mixing with the blue 
bolts thrown from the other Realm magicians, filling the air above 
the plains with a brilliant display of fireworks.
     To anyone looking up from the battlefield below, they 
appeared as twin columns of blue light. In one swift unison 
movement, their arms swung outwards long fingers pointing 
down into the center of the plain. Strands of mage energy twined 
through the four hands, then leaped outward. One in mind, one in 
purpose, the two magicians melded their power into a single 
long, shining filament of blue fire, flames spun like silk fibers. 
Stretching down from the pinnacle of the cliffs, the power flew 
until it hit the ground in a blinding explosion. Night turned to 
day, as a huge blazing blue circle formed on the ground, 
everything within it burned to ashes in no more than a single 
breath.
     Gale force winds blew in concentric paths, fanning the 
flames, driving the Dark forces back as they hid from the brilliant 
light. Dust and ashes, bones and broken flesh flew upward into a 
spinning tornado, bolts of electricity racing across the edges. 
Then, in a second thunderclap, the whirlwind resolved into the 
water-like black and white ripples of the vortex. High on the 
cliffs, both magicians staggered under the weight of holding the 
power in check, the vortex spinning and reverberating in 
nauseating patterns, threatening to break from their control.
     "Go! Drive them into it. Into the vortex!" Jourdain 
screamed from the cavern's edge, his bellow merely a whisper in 
the storm. But the soldiers nearest him took up the cry, and from 
mouth to mouth is echoed throughout the ranks, until it reached 
the front lines. Soon thousands upon thousands of voices, male 
and female, human and elven, gargoyle and troll, were shouting 
as one: "Into the Vortex." Swords flashing with reflected light, 
the Realm forces began to drive the light-blinded creatures into 
the nebulous center of the massive vortex.
     With cries of rage and frustration, the monsters were 
finally forced backwards, howling in fury and defiance, even as 
their bodies were sucked up into the whirlwind. Then, with a 
shrieking yell, one, then two, then three destroyers broke free of 
the ring of Realm fighters crowding them closer into the center, 
creating new avenues of combat, whirls and eddies of slashing 
claws and clanging swords spreading throughout the  plains.
     Again it was a game of give-and-take, the each small 
triumph balanced by a loss, the senseless force of the vortex 
stealing away its first Realm casualty, then a second and a third. 
The cries of the fourth seemed to be carried on the wind to the 
mages fighting with the very universe itself to control the raging 
beast they had unleashed. Shoulders bent, eyes squeezed shut, 
veins nearly popping through his skin, Reinald stumbled upon his 
hands and knees. "Mulder..." his mind-voice called in despair. 
But Mulder was too caught in the struggle to maintain control to 
be able to respond, his body held stiff and upright, back ramrod 
straight, fists clenched at his sides, fingertips digging into the 
flesh of his palms. His head was tilted upwards to the sky, his 
eyes wide open, his mind burning within his skull.
     "Mulder..." Reinald gave one last frantic call, then 
collapsed to the ground in a broken heap. "Reinald!!!" Mulder 
screamed to the stars, not needing to look down to know that 
Reinald was gone, his mind shuttered into peaceful darkness, 
exhausted and empty. The broken link shot back into Mulder's 
mind and body causing him to convulse as the blue fibers 
whipped around him, lancing his skin, searing his eyes. On the 
battlefield below, the vortex shifted and swung, drifting to first 
one side, then another, swallowing everyone and everything in its 
path.
     Reaching deep down into himself, Mulder strained for 
every last bit of strength he had, drawing on the deepest 
resources, cannibalizing his body's own energy sources in 
unconscious desperation. Knees buckling, he came down hard on 
the rough stone, a strangled cry escaping from between his 
gritted teeth. The power swirled around him, barely contained, 
pushing to break free of the mage's control, pressing to explode 
free into the heavens. 
                         - - - - -

     In one instant the battle collapsed into a mutual retreat, 
Dark creatures and Realm defenders joining in one massive flight 
for safety. The vortex swung free, indiscriminately sucking up 
every living being in its path. The attempts of the few Realm 
leaders to restore order failed, then were abandoned as the raging 
tornado swelled to two, then three times its original size. It 
angled to one side, then swung to another at random, the cries of 
those caught in its path lost in the gale-force winds. 
     Jourdain grabbed for his sword and pushed his way out 
onto the battlefield, charging against the flood of his own men, 
mixed uncaringly with the Dark creatures. He swiped the 'head' 
off one crawler as it slithered past him, then shouted as he saw a 
shell-shocked Karvan standing frozen in the midst of the chaos, 
staring up at the vortex, his sword hanging limply from his hand. 
"Karvan!" Jourdain cried again, finally squeezing through to grab 
the slender elf's silvery-shoulder and shake him.
     Karvan's eyes were bloodshot and dilated as they turned 
to look up into the war leader's face, taking long moments to 
recognize Jourdain. Once the recognition and awareness hit, the 
elf looked around him in horror, bolting backwards into the 
bigger human as a terrified, whining pack of soul-eaters brushed 
by him, commingling with a troop of ash-colored gargoyles. 
Leaning against Jourdain, Karvan glanced back up at the violent, 
spinning maw of the vortex and shuddered.
     "Get a hold on yourself!" Jourdain growled. "We've got 
to rally our people."
     Karvan stared at him in disbelief, hysterical laughter 
bubbling out of his throat. "Rally? Are you crazy?  That THING 
is out of control!"
     "All the more reason to drive the Dark forces into it, it's 
our only hope!" Jourdain insisted. Karvan just laughed. "The 
prophecy has rung true, and we are doomed. Doomed!" He 
threw his head back and laughed bitterly.
      Karvan hit the ground in a pile of limbs and 
weapons, only barely missing being stepped on by a pair of wild-
eyed horses bereft of their riders. Jourdain didn't spare him, 
striking out with his foot to kick the elf with the toe of his boot. 
"Get up, you helpless coward and get yourself together. It's not 
over yet, and I intend to keep fighting.
     "Coward? How dare you call me that, you overgrown 
hulk of human manure!" Elven temper aroused, Karvan leapt to 
his feet, brandishing his sword, only to meet Jourdain's grimly 
amused grin.
     "You son of a whore!" Karvan swore again, but he 
lowered his head and nodded. "OK, 'war leader,'" he said 
sarcastically, "just what exactly do you think the two of us can 
do."
     Jourdain frowned deeply, since he really had absolutely 
no idea what they could do. But he'd be damned if he wasn't 
going to try. "There!" he spotted a stubborn group of trolls 
fiercely crowding a group of hunters back towards the 
unpredictable vortex. "Come on!" He seized Karvan's arm and 
half-dragged him through the stampede, using the bulk of his 
shoulder's like a battering ram. 
     When they reached the small troop of axe-wielding 
trolls, both the human soldier and the horseless elf Rider joined in 
a desperate attempt to continue the fight, each praying silently 
that somehow the Mages would find a way to bring the vortex 
back under control before it swallowed them all.
                         - - - - -

     Deep in the caverns below, Dana Scully fell to the rocky 
floor, her body laced with blue currents. The air within the cavern 
itself grew thick and heavy, the Gate behind her wavering in and 
out. "Back, get back!" Corvay shouted, pushing people away. 
"Evacuate now!" No one questioned the small aged elf's order, 
gathering the wounded up between them, healers, priestesses and 
soldiers alike scurried deeper into the caverns, leaving Corvay 
and the nearly senseless Scully behind.
     "Scully!" Corvay called out, trying to touch her, but a 
blue spark lanced into his hand, sending him sliding backwards 
across the floor. Scully moaned and shifted, her skin burning 
brilliant blue, rolling onto her back and stretching a hand towards 
the distant ceiling. 
     On the cliff top, Mulder continued to hang onto 
conscious by a thread, mind lost in whirlpool of liquid fire, his 
open eyes sightless. The vortex slipped further from his control, 
threatening to escape him, but he held. For a few terrifyingly long 
instants, he kept control. He reached again for Reinald's mind - 
but the end of the link was dark and empty. He was alone...
     "Mulder..." Scully's voice echoed into the whirlwind of 
his mind. "Mulder...!" Her mindvoice was terrified and 
demanding at once. "Mulder..mulder....mulde..." It came again 
and again, bringing with it the very sense of her: the scented smell 
of her hair, the taste of her mouth, the feel of her body, the color 
of her eyes. "Scully, NO!" He cried back down the link. "Get out, 
get out...get out!" But he was incapable of shielding her, his mind 
flying closer and closer to the edge of the yawning vortex. It 
pulled at him, teased him, drew him. All he had to do was relax 
and it would be over.
     "Mulder, no!" Her voice was louder, more insistent. It 
rang in his ears, flooded his awareness, yanking him back from 
the abyss. Abruptly, their minds fused, both tumbling as one small 
ball of awareness around the edge of the roiling vortex. Around 
and around they went, rocketed on the streams of power, until 
with one massive grasp for control, the Mulder/Scully meld 
seized onto one glowing strand of energy and then another. 
     Ever so slowly they wove one incandescent fiber of 
energy around the others, until they secured the edge of the 
vortex in a gleaming blue web. The ravenous hole strained 
against the delicate strands entangled around it, but was unable to 
break free. For what seemed like an eternity, the joint mind 
continued to add to the web, layer after layer of energy, until the 
remainder of their strength slipped out in one final gasp. 
Together, they tumbled into darkness, not into the heart of the 
vortex, but rather into a soft, deep, warm place in the center of 
their being, in the apex of mind-link, two so fully joined as one 
that their bodies were left to fall where they were, the separate 
shells empty and abandoned.
                    
                         
                   -----------------


     When the vortex stabilized, drawing in upon itself and 
standing still like a stationary whirlpool in the bloody center of 
the plains, a few of the Realm survivors began fighting anew. In 
wake of Karvan's flashing silver blade, Jourdain's merciless iron 
sword, and the axes of berserk troop of trolls cutting bloody 
swaths through the creatures in their path, a new battle line was 
drawn. One by one the fleeing Realm soldiers felt themselves 
shamed by their precipitous flight, and turning with weapons 
drawn, chose a still-retreating monster and attacked. Pockets of 
combat formed in eddies of the stampede, blockages around 
which the flow stopped and rearranged. Like centers of 
precipitation in an over-concentrated salt solution, the small 
battles aggregated into larger complexes, elven tempers aroused 
in bright flashes of silver, troll cries echoing, terrified creatures
of 
the night falling dead to the ground, or driven with screeches of 
outrage and helpless fury into the maw of the vortex.
     At long last, the tide had turned. The Realm defenders 
finally saw victory in their grasp and with fierce determination 
they seized upon it. Most still running in instinctive terror, the 
creatures of the Dark were unprepared for the abrupt assaults 
that came from all sides. They were separated, so tightly mixed 
with their foes that the power of their numbers was diluted. 
Packs were split, individuals isolated, so that now it was four 
elves chopping on a single hunter, two gargoyles slicing at a 
single lost soul-eater, a destroyer going down amid the raging 
cries of a dozen human soldiers. 
     As the war continued, pockets of the Dark Army 
coalesced and put up violent opposition. The ground grew thick 
and slippery in blood, fighters stumbled over the fallen of both 
armies, each Dark death drawing its bitter cost. But momentum 
was on the defenders' side, and inch by gory inch, they 
surrounded and drove the disoriented creatures into the center of 
the vortex, watching in triumph as they were sucked out of the 
universe and into the unknown beyond.
     Night slipped unnoticed into a gray and cloudy dawn, 
and then into a muddy noon, as the conflict continued. It took yet 
another dusk and rising moons until the last Dark creature was 
thrown with strangled cries, half-broken, into the yawning vortex 
which spun and twisted, ever trying to break free of the invisible 
magic bonds holding it - but the strands of azure-colored magic 
held. The defenders had succeeded, and their yells of triumph 
broke into pandemonium as the realization there was no one left 
to fight slowly penetrated battle-hazed minds. In those precious 
moments of final victory, elves hugged trolls, humans and 
gargoyles, boundaries of race and class and station forgotten in 
an intense and tearfully overwhelming flood of joy.
                         - - - - -

     Doing his best to cope with the ever-increasing flood of 
the wounded, Corvay was unable to help Scully. She lay still and 
quiet on the small pallet, her body going through the motions of 
maintaining life. Each time he passed, the little elf would reach 
out to touch her skin - still laced with static sparkles of mage-
energy. But warm and flushed as her flesh was, his psi-trained 
senses easily recognized the absence of that part of her that was 
most fundamentally HER. Her mind - her soul - was lost, and he 
could not spare the time needed to attempt to bring her back, as 
long as she was apparently still alive. Perhaps she was better off 
wherever she was for now, he thought, his shoulders bent double 
under the weight of so much anguish and death. The cries of 
another injured soldier broke into his thoughts, and with one 
more saddened brush at the coppery hair of his apprentice - and 
friend - Corvay turned away to give the newcomer what little 
peace he could.
     Hours turned into days for the overburdened Healers. 
Sleeping in short shifts, they worked until their eyes were glazed, 
their skin ashen, their minds exhausted. Still, the stream of the 
wounded and injured continued to flow, everything from broken 
limbs to those so mangled that nothing more than a quick and 
merciful death could be offered. It was from delivering one of 
those death spells, his heart heavy with loss, that Corvay looked 
up to see Jourdain standing over him. 
     "Captain," Corvay spoke wearily, accepting the 
supporting hand on his arm, however covered in blood. They 
were all doused in the vital fluid now, it had spilled over them all 
in a bright red waterfall, seeming to color the very air itself.
     "Healer," Jourdain found the words coming with 
unexpected bitterness. "It's over. We've won."
     "It's hardly begun," Corvay responded. Jourdain 
nodded, accepting the truth of the aged healer's words. The battle 
itself may have been done, but the results would be with them for 
a long time to come. He knew all too well that it had been only 
luck that had allowed him to escape with no more than bruises 
and gashes. He had seen far too many of his friends and comrades 
fall to their deaths. But now that the enemy was gone, he had 
energy left for only one thing.     
     "Aldara," the name came through Jordain's lips in a 
breathless rush. 
     Corvay didn't waste time speaking, simply lifted his hand 
and pointed towards the corner. Jourdain offered a simple thank 
you, then turned to weave his way through the tumult of the 
makeshift hospital. Finding Aldara still sleeping on a small 
mattress in the corner, he knelt down beside her and engulfed her 
hand in his and watched her with tender eyes.
     Laying curled on her side on the blood-stained mattress, 
she looked small and fragile, her face half-hidden by a curtain of 
wavy black hair. Her damaged leg was stretched out awkwardly 
below her, her chest rising and falling in uneven sleep. Just as he 
reached out to stroke the hair back from her face, she cried out -
"Nooo!" - her voice slurred and pitifully weak. She shook and 
twisted, hands moving to protect herself from an imagined, or 
perhaps remembered, horror.
     "Aldara," he soothed, trying to restrain her as gently as 
he could. "Aldara, love, it's me - Jourdain. You're safe 
now...safe..."
     Her eyes jolted open, then focused on the face hovering 
over her. A combination of relief and resumed pain made her sink 
back down into the mattress. Running her tongue over dry lips, 
she tried to speak. "Jourdain?" His name was a question mark.
     He finally managed a real smile. "It's over. We won." 
His smile dropped into a grimace as he remembered the cost of 
the victory. "It wasn't easy," he added. "But it is finished."
     "Thank the Gods," she whispered hoarsely, trying to 
pull up into a sitting position. He restrained her with gentle 
hands. "Take it easy," he warned.
     Grasping onto his arms, she snuggled closer into his 
warmth, using him to support herself. The change on position 
jarred her leg, and twisting in her lover's embrace, she looked 
down at it for the first time. Wrapped in thick bandages, it was 
immobilized by a long wooden splint. Despite her effort, eyes 
squeezing shut in concentration, she couldn't feel anything below 
the knee, and what she felt above the knee was raw and searing 
pain.
     "My leg!?" she gasped, angling her head to peer up into 
Jourdain's eyes. He tried to avoid giving her the answer she 
sought, but her gaze bore into him. "I don't know," he finally 
replied honestly. "Corvay and Scully did the best they could." At 
the pain and fear burgeoning in her expression, he added quickly. 
"But it doesn't matter. You are alive. That's what counts."
     "Alive, and a cripple!" She said, pushing him away. He 
wrapped his arms tighter around her, refusing to release her.
     "You don't know that," he insisted. "And even if it is so, 
it doesn't matter. Not to me."
     "You say that NOW. Besides, it matters to ME!" she 
denied, tears stinging her eyes.
     "So you may have to use a cane, so what?" he protested.
     "So what? How can I do my job, how can I support 
myself? I'll be helpless." The tears began to flow more seriously. 
She'd always been totally independent, counting on her agility 
and fighting expertise to keep her safe and secure. The thought of 
losing that freedom terrified her.
     "One good leg, or two, you're still the best weapons 
trainer I've ever seen. Look how quickly you trained Scully. This 
won't dull your aim with a knife, or inhibit your ability on 
horseback, or affect your mind. You will be fine - and your leg 
may heal. Don't count yourself out either way." His voice turned 
softer as he continued. "But I was kind of hoping you'd consider 
doing something different."
     "Whhat," she sniffled against his chest. She did know 
how good she was at teaching fighting skills, but the thought of 
being confined by infirmity made her feel weak and sick inside. 
     "I...I was thinking about maybe..." he found himself 
stammering, the words escaping him.
     "Maybe?" she asked, a slight glimmer of what he meant 
slowly penetrating the confusion in her mind. "Jourdain?" she 
prodded, lifting her head to meet his eyes.
     "Well, that maybe you'd consider being a guard captain's 
wife?" He finished it in a rush, the words spilling into each other.
     A small smile warred with her tears, creeping up on her 
face, as she asked shyly. "And did you have any particular guard 
captain in mind for me to marry?"
     "Well, uhh, of course. I'd like you to marry me." He 
looked down into her tear-stained, almost smiling face, never 
more aware of its elven cast than he was at that moment. Could 
this fierce, lovely, half-elf woman really commit herself to a 
middle-aged human soldier like him? His breath caught in his 
throat as he waited for her answer.
     Aldara hesitated, her delight at the offer she had 
dreamed of for so long struggling with her fear. She refused to 
marry him if he was asking her out of pity or responsibility. Elven 
temper so easily aroused, she found herself shouting at him, 
"Don't you dare marry me because you feel sorry for me! Or 
because you think you have to, because I'm hurt. Cripple or not, I 
will not be anyone's burden!" She regretted the words as soon as 
they were spoken, but she remained stiff in his arms, holding to 
her challenge. 
     "Aldara!" Jourdain shook his head, expressing his 
feelings had never been easy for him. He was better with a sword 
than with words, better at battle strategy than relationships. In 
fact he hadn't had a relationship since his wife died - until now. 
But coming so close to losing Aldara had convinced him of how 
precious she was. Yet, the hardest part seemed to finding the 
words to convince her.   
     He looked into her emerald eyes for a moment as she 
waited tensely for an answer. "Aldara, I want to marry you 
because..because..." he stammered for a moment, then placed a 
finger under her chin and lifted her face up even close to his. 
"Because I love you. Because I don't want to lose you. When I 
heard you had been injured, I felt like a part of me had died. 
Aldara, I know I'm no prize, I'm older, and set in my ways, but I 
need you." He stopped and gazed into her eyes, his craggy 
features caught in such an expression of unguarded vulnerability 
that she finally relented.
     "I'd like to marry you very much," she replied, her smile 
deepening even as he claimed her mouth in a joyful kiss. She 
wound her arms around him and returned his embrace with 
delight. In the midst of all the horror of the war, sometimes the 
simplest things were the best. The very best, indeed.
                         - - - - -

     After several long minutes of kisses and whispers, 
Aldara pushed Jourdain away and looked around her. "What is 
it?" he asked anxiously.
     "I wonder where Scully is?" she replied. 
     Jourdain shrugged. "She must be around somewhere. 
Maybe she went out on the battlefield to help the wounded."
     "Yes," Aldara shivered at the thought of so much 
carnage. But then as she turned back to Jourdain she caught a 
glimpse of a still form on the neighboring pallet, red hair strewn 
across the mattress.
     "Jourdain, there!" Aldara cried, pointing over his 
shoulder. He pulled back onto his heels and angled his body 
around to look behind him. There, unnoticed before in his 
concern for Aldara, was the unconscious Scully, her skin waxen, 
her bright blue eyes staring blindly at the ceiling.
     Realizing that Aldara was not going to accept remaining 
where she was, Jourdain swiftly scooped her up in his arms and 
carried her the few feet over to Scully's bed. He sat her down on 
the edge, cautious of her damaged leg. "I'll go find Corvay. He 
should know what happened." Aldara nodded, reaching out to 
gently stroke her unresponsive friend's cheek.
     Across the room, Corvay was delivering a rapid-fire set 
of instructions to a pair of brown-robed human healers. Jourdain 
pushed up behind the small elf, towering over him like one of the 
stone columns at the entrance to the plains. Corvay felt the large, 
brooding presence at his back, but refused to acknowledge it 
until he was finished. As the other two healers scurried away, 
Corvay straightened his back and pivoted to look up at Jourdain, 
bristling with impatient authority. "What is it now, Captain?"
     "Traveller Scully is hurt!" Jourdain pointed to where 
Aldara was bent over Scully's unconscious figure.
     "I know, I know." Corvay's tone dropped from brusque 
to sorrowed. He shook his head. "I've never dealt with the effects 
of being life-bonded to a mage before - it's never happened 
before."  
     "What happened?" Jourdain questioned intently.
     Corvay shook his head. "She was fine, doing a superb 
job, when suddenly she just collapsed. Her skin started glowing 
with mage-energy, nearly creating a full-scale Mage-storm in 
here. We had to evacuate the cave for hours. I stayed with her, 
but there was nothing I could do. I couldn't even touch her. 
Then, just as quickly as it started, it ended. She convulsed, then 
lay still. After a while, enough of the magic faded so that I could 
move her to the pallet in the corner and we were able to start 
using the cave again. I've checked on her every chance I get, but 
there's no change. I THINK she's with him, with Mulder, 
somehow. Perhaps he was handling too much power and it 
overflowed down the life-bond. I just don't know."
     Jourdain frowned, as much as respected and liked both 
Reinald and Mulder, he didn't like messing with Mage talents. 
The power was unpredictable at best, destructive at worst. "Isn't 
there anything you can do for her?" he asked, his deep voice 
roughened with worry and tension.
     "Perhaps, if I had time and strength to spare I could try 
to reach her mind. But that is a slow process, and requires my full 
attention." The deep-etched lines in Corvay's face dug a little 
deeper as he scowled. "For now, I have thousands in more dire 
need." As Jourdain opened his mouth to protest, Corvay waved 
his long-fingered hand in the air between them. "She is alive and 
resting comfortably. For all I know at present, that sleep could be 
exactly what she truly requires." At Jourdain's disbelieving look, 
the elf sighed. "I care about her, too, Captain. She is the finest 
apprentice I've ever had. And remarkably honorable for a human. 
I do not want to loose her, but there is little I can do right now. 
Perhaps a Mage like Reinald would have more understanding of 
what occurred."
     "Where is Reinald?" Jourdain glanced around the busy 
cavern as though expecting to see the blue-robed, white-crowned 
figure of the Royal magician suddenly appear in a puff of smoke. 
"For that matter," he continued, "Where in the Realm is Mulder?"
     "I don't know," Corvay replied. "I assumed they were 
busy with the battle. From what happened to Scully, they must 
have been handling immense amounts of mage-energy."
     "Yes, " Jourdain concurred, his memory of the vortex 
and the magestorm surrounding it all too frighteningly clear. "But 
that should have been over by now..."
     The tall, bulky human and the little elf suddenly stared at 
each other, the same shocked concern evident on their faces. "If 
Scully was hurt, then what might have happened to Mulder?" 
Jourdain felt his stomach sink. 
     "Given that they are life-bonded..." Corvay frowned 
even deeper. "We just don't know what to expect from a mage's 
bond." As sudden commotion at the nearby Gate heralded a new 
influx of casualties, interrupting their conversation with the cries 
of the injured. Corvay took a deep breath and gave Jourdain a 
sorrowful look.
     "That's okay, Healer. Go on, I'll go find Mulder and 
Reinald." Jourdain said.
     "Good, good." Corvay replied absently, already 
brushing past the soldier towards the incoming wounded.
                         - - - - - 

     After forcing his way though four Gates and five 
crowded caverns, Jourdain finally reached the last Gate - the one 
that would lead him to the cliff-top Reinald and Mulder had used 
as a staging ground for their spell. Along the way, he had been 
hugged, pummeled, danced around in circles by hysterical 
soldiers of all races. The massive caverns echoed with the bizarre 
mixture of the groans of the injured and the jubilant cries of the 
victorious. Normally Jourdain would be the first to celebrate, 
chugging down tankards of the thick foamy ale that was flowing 
in rivers among the surviving soldiers, but not now.  Jourdain 
heard the warning bells in his mind chime louder and louder as 
every person he asked denied seeing the two mages since they 
had left to begin their spell. It was possible that he was simply 
missing them in the chaos, but an intuitive part of his mind kept 
insisting that something was wrong. Mulder would never leave 
his life-bondmate in such condition without being at her side, not 
unless he was in no condition to go to her himself.
     By the time Jourdain arrived at the final Gate, he was 
nearly running, his large size and obvious urgency forcing open a 
path through the celebration. Just as he was about to step 
through the Gate, two small gargoyles stepped into his path. 
Swearing violently as he nearly fell over them, Jourdain tried to 
push them out of his way.
     "You can't go up there!" One of them insisted, baring 
his teeth in anger at nearly being stepped on by the big human.
     "Get out of my way!" Jourdain rumbled, not in the 
mood to waste time arguing.
     "Mage Reinald left orders that no one was to go up 
there until he said it was safe!" The second gargoyle responded. 
     That did make Jourdain slow down, as he knew full well 
that Reinald would not have given such instructions without 
good reason. But on the other hand, Jourdain's own instincts 
were screaming that something was seriously wrong up on the 
cliff, and that his friends needed his help. "Have you heard 
anything from either Mage Reinald or Mage Mulder since they 
first went up there?" he asked.
     "No...No" both gray-skinned gargoyles responded in 
unison, their ears begin to twitch nervously.
     "And no one else has gone up there to check on them?" 
Jourdain questioned. This time the two little creatures just shook 
their heads.
     "That's not right. I think they may be hurt." He 
swallowed and eyed the shimmering Gate nervously. In all of his 
rush to get here, he hadn't bothered to think about what he could 
run into up there. His back straightened with resolve. Whatever 
did happen, Mulder and Reinald were his friends. They needed 
his help; he was not going to let them down.
     "I'm going to check on them," he said with a confidence 
that was only on the surface. One of the gargoyles opened its 
mouth to protest, but Jourdain quelled it with a glare. Glancing at 
each other, and shrugging over the human soldier's foolhardiness, 
they sighed in unison and moved out of his way.
     Taking a deep breath, Jourdain stepped through the 
Gate...
     ...And arrived instantly on the dark wind-swept heights, 
the bitter cold of the air making him gasp in shock after the heavy 
humid warmth of the crowded caverns. Above him the moons 
glowed in the black night, surrounded by a field of diamond stars, 
so close he felt like he could reach out and touch them. Taking 
one careful step after another, Jourdain felt his way towards the 
cliff edge, getting as close as he dared to the precipitous drop 
down onto the shadowed plains below.
     His eyes focused intently at the place where solid earth 
gave way to empty air, Jourdain didn't see Reinald until his foot 
came up against a soft barrier on the ground. "Reinald!" Jourdain 
cried, dropping to his knees beside his obviously unconscious 
friend.
     As Jourdain touched the pulse in the Royal magician's 
neck, relieved to feel it throbbing at a slow, but steady rate, he 
finally saw Mulder laying a few feet beyond, sprawled like a rag 
doll on the weed-covered rocks. Forcing himself to leave Reinald 
for a moment, Jourdain went over to Mulder, again feeling some 
relief to find that he, too, was still alive.
     Kneeling between them, Jourdain considered his 
options, then stood up and raced for the Gate. Bursting through 
it, he grabbed the nearest two soldiers by the arms and propelled 
the startled men towards the Gate, shouting instructions to the 
watching gargoyles. "Get word to Healer Corvay that Mages 
Mulder and Reinald have been found unconscious, then get 
stretchers up here immediately. Move it!!!!"
     In mere moments, though it seemed like a lifetime to 
Jourdain, the two mages were being carried through the Gate and 
down towards the Healing caverns, only the slightest rise and fall 
of their chests indicating that they were still alive.
                         
                   -----------------

     Sitting her quiet vigil by Scully's side, Aldara simply 
shook her head at Jourdain as he hurried over to her. There was 
no change. Jourdain frowned, then inclined his head towards the 
stretchers being carried over by two dusty green-clad soldiers and 
two brown-robed elven healers. "Oh no," Aldara breathed in 
sharply as she instantly understood. Attempting, and failing to 
stand up, she swore briefly as she remembered her leg.
     "They're alive," Jourdain told her as he drew her up 
against him, letting her use him as a crutch, knowing full well that 
she knew who the bodies were. "Like Scully, their minds seem to 
be gone, but they are breathing and have steady heartbeats."
     "Thank the Goddess for that," Aldara replied, willing 
leaning into his strength. "But what happened?" They both 
watched as Mulder was lowered onto the pallet that had been 
Aldara's, Reinald onto the next one over. "I don't know," 
Jourdain replied. "It could just be that the spell to create the 
vortex exhausted them, and once they've recovered their strength 
they will wake up." His voice was full of doubt.
     "But that doesn't explain what happened to Scully?" 
Aldara protested.
     "She's life-bonded to Mulder." Jourdain attempted to 
explain. "Corvay thinks that maybe the mage-energies Mulder 
was trying to control were too strong, and they flowed down the 
bond-link to Scully. He says she lit up with mage power like the 
castle grounds at summer festival just before she collapsed. No 
one's ever been life-bonded to a mage before, especially not such 
a powerful one, so we don't know the effect it could have."
     "Do you think they will be all right?" Aldara asked, her 
eyes glimmering with unshed tears.
     Jourdain shook his head sadly, tightening his arms 
around her. "I hope so...I don't know," he answered honestly.
                         - - - - -

     //Dana Scully laughed into the wind, running barefoot in 
the sand, the brilliant blue of the endless ocean beckoning her 
onward. Chasing her, Fox Mulder grinned with delight as he 
caught her around the waist, tipping them both into the white-
foamed surf. Twisting in his arms as they fell, Dana wrapped her 
arms around the satin-sheathed steel of his shoulders, pulling him 
onto her even as she hit the water with a splash. Mulder released 
her waist just long enough to support himself a tantalizing inch 
above her body, his hands pressing into the swirling sand, 
grinning down into her bright face as she laughed warmly up at 
him.
     "Come here," she demanded, using both her arms and 
legs to draw him closer. Echoing her laughter, he complied, their 
sounds of their joy turning from open laughter to moans of 
pleasure as they made love on water's edge, the tide washing 
slowly up and down over their entwined bodies.\\
                         - - - - -

     Hours had passed with no change. Jourdain and Aldara 
sat a lonely vigil by the three bedsides, waiting and watching for 
any sign of returning awareness. Mages Gera and Flordan had 
visited briefly, both barely able to stand in their own exhaustion. 
Aldara had looked to them for answers, but both blue robed 
magicians had simply shook their heads. Corvay buzzed by as 
often as he could, the demands on him and the other healers 
seemingly endless. All he could suggest for now was to let them 
sleep.
     "You should try to sleep," Jourdain suggested as he 
watched Aldara's eyes droop, then shoot open as she tried to 
keep herself awake.
     "No!" she protested. Then turning to look into his 
bloodshot eyes, she suggested that he get some rest. "I'll watch 
them for a while."
     "No, "I'll sit watch. You need to get some sleep. You 
are hurt too," he insisted. Just as she was about to start arguing 
with him, a small sparkle of her former vivacity awakening in her 
emerald eyes, the sound of a groan from one of the beds caught 
her attention.
     "Jourdain!" She cried, grabbing his arm and pointing 
towards Reinald who was beginning to shake and twist on his 
bed. Not wasting a moment, Jourdain picked Aldara up in his 
arms and moved around Mulder's bed to set her on the edge of 
Reinald's pallet. 
     "Reinald?" the dark-haired half-elf called out, surprising 
herself with the depth of affection she felt for the white-haired 
mage. Before she had met Scully and Mulder, she had both hated 
and feared magicians, even the friendly and honorable Reinald. 
But now that had changed. She had begun to see them as 
individuals, the use of their power an extension of their natures. 
Reinald and Mulder were trustworthy because they were good 
people. Her father and siblings had been vain and selfish - so the 
use of their power had simply reflected who they were. That 
didn't diminish the horror that an evil person with the talent could 
cause, but she could begin to like and respect the ones who were 
honest and fair, who tried to use their gifts for good purpose.
     Reinald shifted in his sleep, crying aloud. "Mulder..."
     "Shhh," Aldara replied, reaching out to stroke his brow. 
"Reinald, can you hear me?" Behind her Jourdain stood silent and 
tense, worry and hope warring on his grizzled features.
     Reinald muttered unintelligibly for a moment, then 
silenced as his eyelids flickered open. Blinking rapidly as he tried 
to focus blurry eyes, he whispered, "Aldara?"
     "Yes, yes!" She urged, leaning back to share a grin of 
relief with Jourdain. "And Jourdain. How do you feel?"
     "Like I was hit by a lightning bolt," Reinald replied, 
rubbing his face with trembling hands.
     "Do you remember what happened?" Jourdain 
questioned gently.
     "I'm not sure..." Reinald stared up at the ceiling for a 
moment. "I remember beginning the vortex spell." He shivered. 
"It was so strong. It kept trying to break free of our control. I 
started to get tired, I kept slipping under. I called out for Mulder, 
but he couldn't respond. Then I...I lost awareness. Everything 
went black." He shook his head, "I failed," he said, voice deep 
with grief. "I failed."
     "NO!" Jourdain corrected loudly. "You didn't fail. We 
won! The vortex stabilized and we drove the Dark forces into it. 
The battle is over and the Realm is safe."
     Reinald looked up at him, disbelief struggling with hope. 
"Won? Stabilized? But how?"
     "We assumed you and Mulder did it - at least the part of 
controlling the vortex," Jourdain answered. "It broke free for a 
while, then suddenly drew back, as though someone or something 
was containing it. It was like it was caught in a trap, unable to 
break free. Once it stopped moving, we were able to take control 
of the war, the Dark army was split and demoralized. It took 
almost a whole day and night, but it's over now."
     "Thank the Gods," Reinald closed his eyes, feeling relief 
wash over him in waves. At long last it was over, and they were 
safe. But after a moment of enjoying the victory, the questions 
returned with a vengeance. "I still don't understand how the 
vortex was restrained. When I collapsed we were losing it, I can't 
believe Mulder held on his own."
     "He wasn't on his own," Aldara broke in, sudden 
comprehension lighting her thin, oval face. "Scully helped him!"
     "What?" Reinald sat up abruptly, his voice breaking into 
a cry as pain thudded through his temples.
     "Easy, easy," Aldara insisted, pressing him back down 
onto the mattress. Reinald hardly struggled, the fire lancing 
through his head convincing him to lay as still as possible.
     "Corvay says that Scully was working down here when 
she suddenly fell down and started to glow with mage-energy," 
Jourdain explained. "Apparently she caused quite a Mage-storm 
down here. After a while, though, it ended and she just simply 
collapsed. She hasn't woken since. You and Mulder were both 
the same way when I found you. So far you're the only who has 
woken up."
     "I knew she had some slight mage ability, but it was 
hardly enough for simple spells, much less something of this 
nature. I know she and Mulder are life-bonded, but even so..." 
Reinald shook his head. "I just don't know."
     "Will Mulder and Scully be all right?" Aldara asked 
worriedly, glancing behind her at their motionless, recumbent 
figures.
     "I...I THINK so," Reinald replied. "They should wake 
up once they've recovered their strength. At least that's the way it 
usually is for mages who have overtaxed their powers."
     Both Aldara and Jourdain caught the uncertainty in his 
tone. "But..." Aldara prodded.
     "It depends on how much they over-used their life-
energies. And we're dealing with the unknown of their life-bond. 
It could help them," Reinald sighed, glancing from Aldara's pale 
features to Jourdain's weary face.
     "It could also hurt them - if one dies the other could 
easily follow." 
                         - - - - -

     //Hands laced behind his head, Fox Mulder watched the 
cottony whisps of clouds floating in the deep blue of the sky. A 
gentle breeze played with the tendrils of his dark hair, splaying 
them across his temples as he rested in the warmth of the sun. 
Curled against his side, her head pillowed in the hollow of his 
shoulder, Dana Scully closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 
The air was fragrant and pure, a mixture of grass and earth, 
strawberries and pine, tinged by the unique masculine sent of the 
man resting beneath her. Her hand gently stroked the velvet of his 
skin, exposed by the half-unbuttoned white shirt, the tips of her 
fingers red and sticky with the juice of strawberries. A small pile 
of the fresh-picked berries lay beside them, cradled in a fold of 
the blanket on which they lay.     
     Mulder closed his hand on hers, pressing it against the 
center of his chest, then lifting it up to his mouth. Slowly he 
licked at one sweet, flavored fingertip after another until Dana 
moved to pull herself up along his length, framing both their faces 
together in the shelter of her auburn hair which cascaded down 
around them a bright red waterfall, glowing in the midday sun.
     Hazel eyes danced under lazy eyelids as a slow smile 
teased the edges of his mouth. Eyes bluer than the sky above 
glittered in response, her breath hot against his cheek. 
Seductively, she began to actively trace his lips, slowly dipping 
deeper into his mouth, while his tongue reached out to wrap 
around her fingertips, catching at them with the edges of his 
teeth. Then his hand released hers and swept around to caress the 
bare skin of her back above the silk edge of her flowery dress. A 
soft sigh of utter contentment escaped her lips as she bent down 
inch by inch to finally cover his mouth with hers.\\
                         - - - - -

     Sipping at the hot tea, Reinald studied the sleeping 
Travellers with still-weary eyes. The flood of the wounded had 
slowed to a trickle, many of the healers getting their first chance 
in several days to sleep. Now it was the priests who were busy, 
gathering up the dead and committing them to the care of the 
gods. Too, too many dead, he thought sadly. And far too many 
still hovering on the edge.
     "Any change?" Jourdain whispered.
     "No," Reinald turned to look up at his friend. "If it was 
simple exhaustion, they should have woken up by now." He 
glanced back at the man and woman laying on the bed, the slow 
rise and fall of their chests the only remaining sign of life. Even 
when they had been moved from the Healing cave back to their 
original quarters, neither had showed any sign of awakening.
     "I'm afraid they are lost somewhere." Reinald shook his 
head. "All that power echoing down a life-bond. I have no way to 
know the consequences." Jourdain frowned, a newly etched gash 
showing in sharp relief against his cheekbone. He was tired of 
hearing how little anyone knew about the combination of a life-
bond and mage talent. What he wanted was an answer, or at least 
some suggestion of a course of action.
     "Can't one of the Healers reach them, or another mage? 
If they are caught in some backlash of the spell, can't you undo 
it?" Jourdain questioned.
     "It's not that simple." Reinald took another deep gulp of 
the stimulating tea, grateful for the warm rush it caused in his 
belly. "Without knowledge of the cause - or the details of the 
magic binding them - it would be like looking for one grain of 
wheat in a field." His face brightened slightly. "However, a 
Healer may be able to get to them in a way a magician couldn't. 
Corvay is planning to try as soon as he has a chance to recover 
his strength."
     Jourdain nodded, relieved, but not surprised. The 
irascible elven Healer obviously had a soft spot for Scully, he had 
hovered over her at every opportunity. "Well, if anyone can reach 
them, it will be Corvay." Agreement flickered in Reinald's tired 
eyes, then he gazed down at the 'sleeping' couple. After a 
moment, during which Jourdain stood quietly at the end of the 
bed, the thin, white-haired mage spoke in nearly a whisper. "I just 
wonder if they are not happier wherever they are."
                         - - - - -

     //Mulder handed Scully the wine glass, their fingers 
brushing as she took it from him, looking over the rim at him 
with a hint of a smile. He picked up his own glass and held it up 
between them, letting the firelight flicker through the amber 
liquid. Meeting each other's eyes, they clinked the glasses and 
drank the clear, dry wine in appreciative silence, no spoken 
words necessary to communicate the toast. The same thought - 
the same feeling - reverberated between their minds. "To you, my 
love," his mindvoice had caressed her soul. "To us, my darling 
forever," hers had whispered back, warming his heart.
     Resting her head into the hollow of his shoulder, the 
place that seemed made to hold it, she set the wine glass aside. 
He took one more swallow, feeling his throat cool as the dry 
alcoholic fluid evaporated as it went down. Then placing his glass 
on the floor beside him, he tightened his arm around her 
shoulders, fingering the silken gloriously bright strands of her 
hair. Sinking down onto the cushions in front of a roaring fire, 
they held each other in utter joy and serenity.
     "Mulder...." the faintest whisper of a voice brushed 
against the edge of his mind. He stirred slightly, ears perking to 
listen even as he tried to dismiss it. But it came again, a little 
louder, disturbing the edges of his awareness. It brought a rush of 
feelings, disquiet and fear, rage and sorrow. There was something 
he had forgotten, something....
     Something he didn't WANT to remember. "No," he 
hadn't realized he said it aloud until Dana stirred in his arms, her 
face full of sleepy contentment. "Fox..." she murmured, gazing up 
at him, her face alight with such beauty that he lost all other 
thoughts except his love for her. Giving her a glowing smile, he 
bent to kiss her, drinking in the sweet taste of her mouth.
     Dana felt her breath catch in her throat as his mouth 
claimed hers, reaching out to pull him even closer. Just as his 
arms tightened around her, a voice began to whisper in her ear, 
"Dana...Dana..." She tried to ignore it, to lose herself in the 
ecstasy of her lover's embrace, but the voice refused to silence. 
Instead it grew louder, ringing in her ears until she was forced to 
pulled away from Mulder, grabbing at her ears. 
     "Dana, what is it?" He reached out to hold her, the joy 
on his face slowly darkening into concern. Just as his hands 
closed around her shoulders, he too heard the voice again, 
insistently shouting their names over and over. 
     "NO!" they cried in unison, as the warm safety of the 
room around them began to fade. Fear curling through them, they 
clung to each other as they found themselves adrift in a deep, 
black night, strands of blue fire wrapping its way around them as 
they tumbled through the void.
     A kaleidoscope of images, sounds, voices flashed by 
them, teasing them with half-forgotten memories that were gone 
as soon as they reached out to hold them. A saddened woman 
with deep black eyes and curly black hair stretched out her hand 
to them, changing in an instant to a beautiful girl-child with hazel 
eyes and waist-length black hair. Then it was a younger woman 
with bright auburn hair and a crystal glittering at her throat, 
followed by a man dressed in a long blue cloak with a shock of 
white hair.    "Mulder...Scully...Fox...Dana..." Their names 
echoed in their ears in a thousand different voices, some pleading 
and sorrowed, some loving and welcoming, some angry and 
sneering.  Yellow eyes blazed as an unnaturally-elongated arm 
stretched out towards them. Recoiling, they turned to see a 
hundred mirrored reflections of a woman with hazel eyes and 
long wavy brown hair, dressed in a brown suit. Turning yet again, 
they faced an older man, with contemptuous eyes, half-obscured 
by smoke. One visage after another spun past, blending and 
mixing into a nightmarish assembly of friends lost and enemies 
gained, sorrows forgotten, and horrors remembered.
     Clinging to each other, their screams echoed and were 
lost in the darkness that threatened to close in around them. But 
just as they found themselves sinking even deeper into the void 
below, a single commanding voice chimed in their ears. "Come!" 
it demanded. "Return," it insisted. "Follow me..." it urged. One 
arm still wrapped in a death grip around Scully, Mulder reached 
out to the silvery, blue-tinged strand that quivered with the sound 
of the voice. Somehow able to close his fist around the pulsing 
fiber, he held to it tightly, letting it pull them both upwards.
     Once the motion began, they flew along the vibrating 
strand with increasing speed, Scully releasing one of her hands 
from Mulder's shoulder to grasp onto it, stabilizing them both. 
Confused, exhausted, frightened, they followed the ever-guiding 
voice meekly, letting it take them where it willed. Upwards they 
spiraled, darkness giving way to a nearly blinding light. 
     Just at the edge of the glowing incandescent source, 
they paused to stare deeply into each other's eyes. Both felt the 
desire to slide back into the darkness they had left, into the 
serenity of world they had created for themselves in the apex of 
their love, warring with the call to return to the worlds they had 
left behind. It would be so easy to stay lost together, sheltered in 
their private world. To forget the pain and sorrow of their past 
lives. However, before they could allow themselves to slip 
backwards, two of the voices sounded again:
     "Fox, don't leave me..." a child's voice sobbed.
     "Dana, come home..." a woman's voice cried.
     Hesitating, they hovered for a moment, then accepted 
the decision echoed in each other's eyes. In silent communion, 
they slid apart until they were linked only by clasped hands and 
dove together into the center of the light.\\
                         - - - - -

     Gasping for breath, Corvay let go of Mulder and 
Scully's hands and collapsed backwards into Reinald's waiting 
arms. Not needing to be asked, Jourdain rushed over to help the 
mage carry the Healer into a waiting chair. Letting the big soldier 
support the small, barely conscious elf, Reinald reached for a cup 
of the restorative potion and pressed it up against Corvay's 
whitened lips. "Drink this," he urged, ignoring the elf's attempts 
to push him away. Finally Corvay gave in, taking first a small sip 
of the warm, sweet liquid and then a larger gulp.
     "Are you all right?" Reinald asked.
     "I...yes, I'll be fine." Corvay spoke in a rough whisper as 
even his pointed ears seemed to droop. 
     "What happened," Jourdain questioned urgently. "Did 
you..."
     "Just need to rest..." Corvay interrupted, closing his 
eyes and slumping down into the chair, slipping instantly into 
sleep.
     Jourdain and Reinald exchanged worried glances, 
Corvay had spent nearly two hours in the trance, leaning over the 
unmoving, unresponsive Travellers. If he hadn't succeeded in 
reaching them, then...
     "Mmmmaaagh," came a muffled groan from the 
direction of the bed. Reinald nearly dropped the cup as he and 
Jourdain rushed over to the bed.
     Mulder was rubbing his eyes with the back of one arm, 
his body shivering as the muscles began to awaken. Beside him, 
Scully twisted and yawned, her eyelids blinking rapidly. "Mulder! 
Scully!" Reinald cried, reaching out to shake Mulder's shoulder in 
an explosion of joyous relief.
     "Wwwhat?" Mulder groaned aloud, his eyes slowly 
opening to focus on the face hovering over him. "Reinald?" he 
questioned.
     "Yes, yes!" the white-haired mage shouted gleefully. 
Both Mulder and Scully cringed in response, Scully pressing her 
hands against her throbbing head. "Ooooh," was the best she 
could get out. Mulder eyed her, then the delighted faces of 
Reinald and Jourdain peering down at them, and sank back down 
into the bed, giving them such a woebegone, sick-puppydog look 
that, nearly giddy with relief, Jourdain and Reinald both broke 
out laughing.

                         
                   -----------------


     It had taken nearly a fortnight to clean up the battlefield 
and set the slow process of recovery in motion. After the vortex 
was closed by the still-exhausted mages Reinald and Mulder, the 
Uriin plains became one massive funeral pyre. Each race, each 
religion, each great house held its own sorrowful ceremony, 
releasing the souls of their dead from their mortal remains in huge 
blazing bonfires. For days the fires burned, throwing sparks and 
ashes up into the sky, visible for nearly a full-day's ride away. The 
smell of burning flesh and incense filled the air, painful and 
cleansing at once, washing away the stench of the Dark. Villages 
were reclaimed, fragmented lives resumes, late harvests begun.
     The surviving leaders of the various houses and races 
made their solemn way back to Fairwood Keep, their entourages 
barely a ghost of the flashy colorful displays that had first 
accompanied them there for Reinald's trial so many long weeks 
before. And yet, underneath the somber colors, the mood was 
brighter, the steps lighter than they had been before. A shadow 
had been lifted from the Realm, and despite their many sorrows, 
the people felt the first stirrings of hope for the future. As if in 
benediction, the sun broke through the clouds and shone in full 
glory upon the heads of the returning soldiers as they marched 
through the Fairwood castle gates.
     Mulder and Scully were grateful to settle back into their 
comfortable room with the big fireplace and large soft bed after 
so many nights spent sleeping in tents or caves. The most 
pleasant sight of all was the big tub, filled and waiting for them 
when they arrived dusty and tired from the long march. Lita 
straightened from pouring in another freshly heated bucket of 
water into the tub and turned to them with a glowing smile. 
"Welcome home Mage Mulder, Lady Scully."
     "Thank you, Lita," Mulder replied, draping his robe over 
the back of one of the chairs in front of the blazing fire and 
dropping into it with a sigh of pleasure. Scully simply walked 
over and gave the little elf a big hug, delighted to see her. Lita 
returned the embrace, then pulled away, saying brusquely, "Your 
bath is ready. I'll return later with dinner and empty it then." 
However, her eyes were bright as she bustled from the room.
     Scully went over behind Mulder and wrapped her arms 
around his shoulders. He leaned back into her embrace, reaching 
out to draw her closer. She played with the dark locks of his hair 
for a moment, then dropped a kiss on the top of his head and 
withdrew towards the steaming tub. "Don't know about you, but 
I'm not losing a second before taking a bath." She sighed, 
yanking her tunic over her head. "I can hardly remember the last 
time I felt clean."
     "Ummm, I'll join you in a minute," Mulder replied, 
staring absently into the fire as it leapt and crackled in the huge 
brick hearth. Sensitive to the darkening of his mood, Scully 
stopped after removing her leggings and stared at the back of his 
head. "Mulder?" she asked, coming around in front of him, 
dressed only in the long white shirt with tails that nearly touched 
her knees. "What's wrong."
     "Nothing, Scully." He stretched, yawning loudly. "I'm 
just tired." She continued to gaze down at him, hands 
unconsciously closing on her hips in a stance that he immediately 
recognized. "Scully," he insisted, eyes deepening to a dusky 
brown. "I'm fine, it's just been a long day." 
     "Uh huh," she replied, her face drawn and serious. 
"Mulder..." she sat down across his knees so that she could look 
straight into his eyes. His arms closed around her almost of their 
own accord, instinctively drawing her into his embrace. "Mulder, 
I don't want to go prying into your mind. If you don't feel like 
talking about whatever is bothering you, then I can wait until 
you're ready, but..."
     "No, no, Scully," he interrupted. "It's okay. I just felt a 
little, well, funny when Lita said 'welcome home.' We've been 
here for so long now, that this does feel like our 'home' 
sometimes, and yet I'm also well aware that we don't really 
belong here. I couldn't help wondering what was happening back 
on our earth."
     Scully nodded, reaching out to tenderly brush a 
wayward black lock of hair out of his eyes. "I know," she said 
sadly, "Sometimes I worry about my mother. After everything 
she's been through, to have me just disappear again like this - and 
you as well. I wish there was a way to let her know that we are 
safe and well."
     "Me, too." Mulder responded. "You're lucky to have a 
family like yours. They're good people," he managed a teasing 
grin, "even if your sister is a bit weird."
     Scully laughed. "You're hardly one to talk about being 
'weird,' 'Spooky.'"
     "Touch�, Scully," Mulder said. Then his face fell. "My 
parents won't even notice I'm gone."
     "I'm sure..." Scully started automatically, then paused. 
She'd never met his parents, but she'd picked up enough during 
their years of partnership, and through the growing mind-link, to 
have a pretty good picture of his family, especially after sharing 
his nightmares.
     Mulder caught the edges of the hurtful images going 
through Scully's mind, and he grimaced in response. "The only 
person in my family who really cared about me has been gone 
much longer than I have." His voice was deep with sorrow.
     "Samantha." Scully whispered softly, feeling the knife 
edge of pain strike deeply into her own heart as it plunged 
through his.
     "Samantha," he echoed, and suddenly it was though the 
shadowy figure of a slender eight year-old girl with a waterfall of 
black hair and dark hazel eyes was standing beside them.
     Mulder and Scully were both silent for a moment, then 
Mulder spoke the thought in both their minds. "If I stay here, I'll 
never have a chance to find her."
     "I know, sweetheart," Scully said, trying to project as 
much love and reassurance to him as she could. "And as much as 
I've come to love the people here, I want to go home too. But the 
vortex is dangerous. It nearly killed you and Reinald..."
     "And you," Mulder interjected, unable to avoid a pang 
of guilt. Scully gave him a fierce look, not even bothering to tell 
him aloud to stop the guilt. He sensed her thought and nodded, 
his eyes apologizing for him.
     Scully smiled and leaned forward to brush his lips with 
hers, brushing his mind with love and reassurance. Then she sat 
back and picked up their discussion where it had left off. "At 
least here we have friends and what could be a good future. With 
the Dark Army gone, the Realm will be a peaceful and pleasant 
place to live. If we make a mistake with the vortex, we could end 
up anywhere, including the place those walking nightmares came 
from."    
     Mulder sighed. "I know. We can't even be sure of where 
it was we sent the monsters. God, I hope it wasn't to our world."
     "I doubt it," Scully said. "I don't think they'd fit all too 
well into Neumann's lab." 
     Mulder grinned. "No, probably not. Still, we don't know 
where they ended up, and I certainly wouldn't want to be there 
with them." He paused for a moment, his brow crinkling in 
concentration. "Nonetheless, Reinald did manage to bring Tarnor 
and us through properly, and he and I were almost able to control 
a much larger vortex than the one we fell through. Manipulating 
a smaller one ought to be feasible, especially if we work 
together."
     "Mulder..." Scully felt a whirlpool of emotion flood her. 
If only they COULD make it home. But what if they instead 
ended up in a far worse place - or dead? And it would be very 
hard to say goodbye to their friends in the Realm. She had never 
had very many close female friends, and she knew that she would 
miss Aldara terribly, as well as Jourdain, Tarnor, Reinald, and 
Andalor... Her heart warmed at how many wonderful people they 
had befriended here. Still, it would be so wonderful to see her 
family again. 
     "We don't have to make a decision tonight," Mulder 
suggested as with his emotions in a turmoil, he felt her 
uncertainty augmenting his own. "We're both exhausted, hungry, 
and very dirty. How about we take that bath, eat dinner, and 
sleep on it."
     Scully smiled.  Maybe some of her rationality was finally 
rubbing off on her impulsive imaginative lover. It was definitely 
about time. Standing up she took his hand and led him over to 
the still-waiting tub of steaming water.
                         - - - - -

     Two full days were spent in preparation for the victory 
celebration. The castle was filled to bursting with people, most 
running here and there on one errand after another. The 
courtyards were covered with brightly colored tents, the stables 
crammed with horses and other livestock. The gargoyles took 
possession of the dungeons, the elves spread out into the nearby 
woods. The Great Hall was stripped and scrubbed from floor to 
ceiling, the massive tapestries washed by long rows of women, 
voices raised in melodic song as they worked.
     The castle kitchens were like a furnace, all of the ovens 
working at once. The surviving villages all contributed food and 
grain, wine and meat, and a surfeit of expert cooks. When 
Aldara's security forces weren't breaking up brawls and drunken 
pranks, caused by huge quantities of rich, intoxicating ale that 
was flowing out of barrels and down thirsting throats, they were 
busy separating would-be chefs flailing at each other with iron 
pots, arguing over whose recipe for soup or stew was the best. 
Nonetheless, most of the fighting was done in a good-hearted 
manner, and even the Dordinal rowdies were in pleasant moods. 
The shadow was gone, and the sunshine streamed down on 
Fairwood Keep in bright and glorious streams of warmth.
     Despite the almost-exasperating amount of cavorting 
and merry-making, the castle staff still managed to get the job 
done in record time. The cleansed tapestries were re-hung on 
gleaming stone walls, rows of high-backed, satin-cushioned 
chairs were set up along each of the long walls. The throne-chair 
was carried down out of the storeroom by four large trolls, set up 
on a small platform at one end of the hall, and endlessly fussed 
over by half-a-dozen castle staff under the direction of  the castle 
steward - who seemed about ready to tear his hair out by the end 
of the second day. Nonetheless, the castle was fully prepared by 
nightfall prior to the day of celebration. Every square inch of the 
castle and its grounds had been scrubbed clean, with only one 
exception.
     "Get out!" Reinald stormed at the pair of elves 
scrubbing at the chalk marks on the floor of his workroom. Both 
squealed in fright, one dropping her brush as she attempted to 
scramble to her feet. But the floor was wet and she slid down to 
land on her little round bottom on the floor, brightly-shod feet 
knocking over a bucket of soapy water, red-ribboned yellow 
braids flying.
     "Now look at what you've done! I TOLD that idiot 
steward Rurvic to leave my room alone!" the infuriated magician 
raged. The carefully designed spell diagram on his floor was 
completely ruined. It had taken him hours to plan it out, and now 
he'd have to start from scratch. Even the most carefully-shielded 
mages can lose their tempers, and the air in the room began to 
grow heavy with moisture as Reinald moved to stand glaring 
fiercely down at the utterly terrified - and soaked - young 
servants.
     The one who had fallen stared up at the blue-robed man 
glowering over her like a terrified rabbit, the other cowered and 
sobbed beside her. Just as Reinald reached out to yank the 
yellow-haired one to her feet, an amused voice sounded from the 
doorway, "What's this? Terrorizing the staff?"
     Reinald turned to direct his glare at Mulder who was 
indolently leaning against the heavy oak doors, his arms crossed 
across his chest, ever so slowly shaking his head.
     "These fools ruined my spell - it was brand-new and I 
didn't even have the chance to write it down on parchment yet. 
Hours of work lost." Reinald was still blazing angry, though his 
friend's good humor was slowly breaking through to him.
     "Well, I doubt it's their fault," Mulder said gesturing to 
the frightened elves. "You know how busy everyone is. Someone 
just forgot to tell them to skip your room. Look, I got a good 
look at the diagram before she knocked the bucket over. I can do 
the basics, and you can fix the little bit the they had erased." 
Mulder grimaced. "I could use the escape from out there. 
Someone just tried to clean ME, clothes and all." The comical 
look of annoyed disbelief on the other Mage's face was too much 
for the usually even-tempered Reinald and he started to chuckle. 
     Mulder grinned, then didn't waste a second hustling the 
two elven servants from the room. As he was closing the door 
behind them he told them to pass the word to leave the Royal 
Magician's quarters alone. Both quite certain they had only barely 
escaped some horrible fate, they bobbed their heads and scurried 
away, brushes and pails in hand.
     "You gave those two quite a scare," Mulder noted.
     "I know," Reinald frowned. "But sometimes it's the only 
way to get some privacy around here, especially when Rurvic is 
on one of his cleaning binges. The last time I let him get his 
people in here, they decided to polish and wax the Oracle Cloud. 
It took a week to get the stuff off of it!"
     "I can imagine!" Mulder said. "They corralled me this 
morning to levitate a couple of gargoyles so they could scrub the 
kitchen ceiling. Apparently a pair of cooks got into a fight over 
which spice to use in a stew, and one threw the pot of boiling 
stew all over the room, including the ceiling!"
     Reinald shook his head and lowered himself into his 
chair, reaching automatically for the teapot. "I understand the 
need for a proper victory ceremony, but I wish I could just 
disappear for a few days before and after it." Pouring the tea into 
two mugs, he handed one out to Mulder who accepted it 
gratefully, perching himself on the edge of a small table.
     "Yeah. I don't know whether to offer to help, or just try 
to disappear. Scully is busy with Corvay trying to heal the 
recovering soldiers. I feel almost useless."
     "I'm sure she relies on you heavily," Reinald said 
reassuringly, focusing sharp gray eyes on his friend. "But 
something else is bothering you, isn't it?"
     Mulder nodded solemnly, then hesitated. "Reinald, 
I...uh, Scully and I... I know this is a bad time, but we've been 
thinking..."
     "You want to go home," Reinald finished for him, his 
expression saddened, but not surprised.
     "Yes," Mulder took a deep swallow of the tea, then met 
the other man's eyes directly. "We both have families. Well, 
Scully has a family, and I have a sister who...needs me. We've 
talked about it - about nothing else - for a couple days and while 
we both know how risky the vortex is, we both feel we have to at 
least try."
     "There's no guarantee we can get you to the right 
place," Reinald warned. "You could end up in a dangerous place. 
And that's even assuming you live through it again."
     "I know, I know," Mulder replied, setting down his tea 
and leaping up to prowl the room. "But this, the Realm, it isn't 
our home. We don't belong here."
     "You could belong here," Reinald offered. "You have 
both done us a great favor at risk to your own lives. I promise 
you we will repay you well, if you choose to stay. I've been 
thinking of retiring as Royal Mage, Mulder. I'm getting old, and 
tired of the politics. You could take the position. Andalor trusts 
and admires you. You would have a home here for as long as you 
wanted. Or if you wanted to settle in a quieter place, there are 
hundreds of villages that would compete for you to be their town 
mage. And Scully will always be needed, and welcomed, as a 
healer anywhere in the Realm."
     Mulder paused in his pacing and turned with a warm 
smile. "I'm glad we were able to help and we very much 
appreciate all the kindness you have shown us. Believe me, we've 
thought seriously about staying. We've made good friends here, 
some we would rather not leave behind." His face settle into a 
serious expression. "But we have to try to go home. We both 
have unfinished business there, as well as people who are 
depending on us."
     "I understand," Reinald responded. "and I'll do my best 
to help. But I would ask that you keep this between us until after 
tomorrow's ceremony. There will be enough intrigue going on as 
is. Andalor is young, and there are still factions of the nobles that 
would like to see him - and me - replaced. It is vital that 
everything goes smoothly. Afterwards, we can tell the Prince 
privately and then begin to make plans."
     Mulder nodded agreement. "WE certainly don't want to 
spoil the party. Afterwards is soon enough to tell people, and 
we'd rather not make a big production of this anyway. If we can 
slip away quietly after saying private goodbyes to our friends, 
that would be best."
     "Good." Reinald said, though he didn't feel happy about 
any of it. He was suddenly realizing just how much he'd come to 
like and rely upon this unusual young talent and his extraordinary 
life-bondmate. He knew he'd miss them terribly, however, he also 
understood their desire to return to their interrupted lives. 
"Come, come," he said briskly, masking his emotions. "We'd 
better get started fixing this mess." 
     Both men turned to stare down at the smeared, watery-
mess on the floor and sighed.
                         - - - - -

     The day of the Victory celebration dawned bright and 
warm, the sun rising in a clear blue sky. In the absence of the 
Dark shadow, the Realm had returned to its normal summer 
weather, hot days and cool  nights, lush greenery and a slightly 
tropical humidity in the air. Curled up against Mulder, her head 
pillowed on his chest, Scully stirred and yawned, her breath 
brushing against his skin. He shifted in his sleep, his arms still 
tight around her. Trying to disentangle herself without disrupting 
him, she managed to reach a sitting position, gazing drowsily out 
between the bed curtains just as Lita came into the room. 
     The little elf was dressed in bright red and green dress, 
her dark hair bound up in tiny, but elaborately swirling braids. 
Behind her came two more elven servants, both mirror images of 
Lita, the same decorative clothes and fancy hairstyles, their 
pointed ears framed in heavy black braids. All three were carrying 
clothes, Lita's arms filled with a bundle of shimmering blue and 
white silk, a small corner of black leather peeking out over her 
elbow. Between them, the other two were carrying a heavy load 
of emerald green velvet with gold fibers woven through the 
edges.
     Sitting up in bed, Scully gave them a friendly smile, 
clutching the heavy brocade coverlet up against her breasts, her 
auburn hair cascading down over her milky-white shoulders. "Are 
those for us?" she asked, unable to hide her excitement at the 
sight of the dress the two elven maidens were laying over the 
back of one of the chairs. Practical as she might be, Dana Scully 
still had weakness for beautiful clothes and she had been 
concerned about what she was supposed to be wearing to the 
ceremony. All attempts to question Lita on the subject over the 
last couple of days had been met with a mysterious smile and 
instructions to leave it to the elf. To Scully's eye, it appeared that 
Lita had outdone herself.
     Lita smiled broadly as Scully bounded from the bed, 
wrapping her robe around her shoulders. At the sound of giggles 
from the other two elves, Lita admonished them fiercely, setting 
them to work preparing the water for the tub. Once they were 
busy stoking the fire and setting iron buckets of water into the 
hearth, still exchanging grins and giggles, Lita relaxed and drew 
Scully over to show her the dress.
     "I made it myself," Lita said proudly. "The velvet is 
from my home village, and the embroidery is pure silk." The tiny 
woman's face beamed with delight as Scully fingered the soft 
fabric, exclaiming at its beauty.
     "It's stunning!" Scully brushed a tear out of the edge of 
her eyes. "Thank you so much. I just hope I can do it justice."
     "I have no doubt that you will," Mulder surprised her, 
placing his hands on her shoulder and leaning down to kiss the 
burnished top of her head. "No one will be able to hold a candle 
to your beauty," he complimented romantically, stirring a fresh 
round of giggles from the elves. Lita silenced them with a frown, 
then whisked them out of the room. "Be quiet, and go get Mage 
Mulder and Lady Scully their breakfast."
     Bobbing and grinning, they scurried from the room. Lita 
sighed dramatically. "My nieces are still very young, I'm afraid."
     Wrapped in each other's arms, Mulder and Scully both 
smiled in amusement.
                         - - - - -

     After enjoying a quick bath together, they downed a 
breakfast of fruit and fresh bread, supplemented by the 
stimulating tea. Then gathering up the clothes Lita had brought 
for him, Mulder shut himself into the small bathroom, leaving 
Lita and Scully to go on with a detailed discussion of hair styles. 
His one comment, that he didn't understand why she didn't just 
leave her hair down, netted him such a pair of  outraged glares 
that he decided that absenting himself from the proceedings was 
the safest course of action.
     He easily donned the black pants, white shirt, and long 
embroidered blue tunic. Cinching the heavy silver belt around his 
waist, he had to admit some satisfaction with the result. The 
clothes fit as they had been made for him, which they almost 
certainly had, and the deep blue suited his dark coloring and 
tanned skin well. He spun in front of the mirror once, then 
grinned unabashedly at his reflection. Not bad, but he'd still be 
better off leaving the fussing to the women.
     Lita was vigorously combing Scully's hair, the two 
chatting away easily, as he stepped out of the bathroom. Lita 
smiled appreciatively at him, then buried her attention into 
preparing Scully's auburn tresses, while Scully just stared at him.
     Seeing Scully's blue eyes widen at the sight of him, he 
automatically began to check himself. He hadn't thought he'd put 
anything on wrong, it wasn't that much different from their usual 
outfits. He'd actually thought he looked rather all right. "Is 
something wrong?" he asked plaintively, earning a snort of 
amusement from Lita.
     Scully recovered her composure and gave him a look of 
pure appreciation. "No. You look wonderful!" Better than 
wonderful, she thought. The tunic graced his lean figure 
perfectly, highlighting the broadness of his shoulder and his 
height, the blue color contrasting with the black of his hair and 
gleaming hazel of his eyes. She liked the slighter longer length of 
his hair, the way the bangs draped across his temples, the bottom 
strands curled against his neck. He looked both handsome and 
distinguished - and very sexy in an inutterably masculine way.
     "Oh, thanks," he replied with relief. "I thought that I'd 
go catch up with Reinald for a while you get ready."
     "That's a good idea," she said, her lips curling upwards 
in a smile. "Better give us a couple hours at least."
     "Women." he said, shaking his head as he escaped out 
the door, only just missing being hit in the back by her towel.
                         - - - - -

     The period of banishment had been worth it, Mulder 
decided as Lita finally allowed him to re-enter his room. Scully 
was standing by the edge of the bed, and the sight of her stole his 
breath away. Her hair was gathered up into a loose pile of 
brilliant curls on the top of her head, interwoven with gold 
strands that mirrored the shimmering embroidery on the sleeves, 
hem, and bodice of her deep emerald gown. A few copper-
colored tendril of hair settled against the smooth porcelain skin of 
her neck and shoulders. The bodice of the gown framed her 
breasts in warm velvet folds edged with white lace, dipping 
precariously between them. The shoulders of the gown were 
settled just off the tops of her shoulders, the sleeves ending at her 
wrists in froths of white lace. The thick green velvet fit her figure 
like a glove, accentuating her chest, gathering tightly in a gold 
clasp at her waist, flaring over her hips and down to her feet, 
which were shod in matching slippers with gold twine wrapped 
around her ankles.
     "Scully," he gasped her name, all of his emotion 
flooding out from him, washing over her in waves of loving 
admiration. A smile of pleasure brought her reddened lips into a 
gentle upwards curve, as her eyes sparkled, the green of the dress 
altering their color to a deep sea-like aqua. She stretched out her 
hands to him, shyly asking him aloud if she looked all right.
     "Scully, you look incredible." He finally found the words 
to speak aloud, even though their bondlink was already being 
flooded with the intensity of the feelings she aroused in him, and 
the answering waves of emotion from her. As he took her hands 
into his and stepped closer to her, to gaze deeply into her eyes, 
Lita grabbed her nieces and yanked them from the room. Mulder 
and Scully never noticed the sound of the door closing.
                         
                   -----------------


     Noon. Horns blared into the midday sun, announcing the 
start of the festival. Already, the dignitaries were in place for the 
procession into the Great Hall, the courtyard filled to bursting 
with people of all the four races, each dressed in their best finery. 
Humans wore the bright colors of their houses, red and green, 
orange, yellow and purple. The trolls were dressed in shining 
copper and iron armor, the gargoyles in multi-hued tunics, but 
the elves outshone everyone, their clothing shimmering like spun 
silver and gold in the sunlight, shade upon shade of yellow and 
white, augmented by encrusted jewels and glittering ceremonial 
daggers.
     Another blare of the resounding horns, and the doors to 
the hall opened, allowing the procession to move. Slowly, by 
order of customary precedence first the Head Priests of each sect, 
then the elders of each house marched into the hall, down toward 
the dais on which sat the small figure of Andalor, looking young 
and frail in the huge throne, and yet gravely regal. Each 
Representative bowed to the boy Prince, then led his retainers 
aside to their appointed place in the hall, creating a patchwork 
sea of colors.
     Once the Great Houses were in their places, the non-
human Representatives followed, Mavor of the Elves, Kergidor 
of the Trolls, and Beerak of the Gargoyles. The final part of the 
procession was taken by castle staff and villagers, filling into the 
end of the hall in muttering, excited clusters, until the entire 
massive room was crammed, leaving only a small aisle down the 
center.
     Andalor rose slowly from his throne, using a small 
footstool carefully placed at the bottom of the giant wrought gold 
and iron chair. Once he was on his feet, he stood and waved out 
towards the crowd. In an instant the room fell silent, except for a 
few murmurs from some of the nobles, who fell swiftly to 
disgruntled silence when faced with the disdain of their fellows. A 
hushed expectancy fell over the room as the eight-year-old Prince 
took a deep breath and began to speak, his voice amplified by 
magical aids and the natural echoes in the hall.
     "People of the Kingdom of Fairwood, Races of the 
Realm, Travellers and citizens alike, welcome to Fairwood Keep. 
Its people are your friends, its fruits are yours to share. Come in 
peace, stay in peace, depart in peace. A time of great celebration 
is us upon as the Great Dark has been driven from the land. By 
joining our hearts and strengths as one, we have cleansed our 
homes of the shadow that threatened them. The Time of 
prophecy is over, and we are victorious!"
     Cheers rang out thoughout the room, accompanied by a 
nearly deafening stamping of feet on the stone floor. After a 
moment, Andalor again raised his hand, and silence returned.
     "The victory has not come without losses. Too many of 
our peoples are dead, and far too many wounded, suffering, 
homeless. Now the time has come to turn our great energies to 
healing the injured, rebuilding the villages, planting our harvests. 
Just as we fought and won, together, so too can we build 
together."
     "But that is for tomorrow. Today is a day of celebration 
and joy. Henceforth, this day of the year will be a day of festival, 
a day to put aside the chores of daily life and reflect upon the 
bounty of the land, to be grateful for our families and homes, to 
remember the Darkness that came so close to stealing it all away. 
Remember always and cherish the pleasures of our lives. The 
Time of the Prophecy has passed, and we are at last triumphant." 
Andalor again raised his delicate hand for silence, as another 
outbreak of cheers and foot-stomping rippled through the hall.
     "Before we begin the festival, there are a few who must 
be recognized for their courage and dedication to the Realm." 
The boy Prince nodded to the side, and a group of soldiers came 
forward, each carrying a a draped object in their arms. The first 
knelt beside the Prince and handed him a jeweled chain. Andalor 
took it from him, then turned to face the assembly.
     "Reinald, Regent of Fairwood, Royal Magician, step 
forward and be recognized." A ripple of color shimmered as 
Reinald threaded his way from the right corner to make his way 
onto the dais. Halting in front of the Prince, he dropped to his 
knees.
     "In recognition of your loyalty, and the great risks to thy 
health and safety taken to defend the Realm, I, Prince of the 
Fairwood Demesnes, do declare thee a hero of the Realm." 
Andalor chanted ritually as he dropped the glittering gold chain 
over the mage's bent, white-haired head. Reinald smiled proudly 
up at the boy as he bowed over the Prince's hand, then stood up 
and returned to his place.
     The same procedure was repeated three times, for 
Karvan of the Elves, Gytural of the Trolls, who had been the troll 
leader who had kept his troop fighting even when the vortex had 
gone wild, and Tarnor of the gargoyles. From their position in the 
back of the room, having taken places beside Jourdain and 
Aldara, Mulder and Scully exchanged delighted grins at seeing 
their little friend's ears twitch in excitement as the heavy gold 
chain was draped around his neck. "No one deserves it more," 
Jourdain whispered in Mulder's ear,. Mulder nodded in 
agreement.
     After the four Heroes had been recognized, Andalor 
next took a  pair of silver daggers from the next soldier in line. 
"Bravery takes many forms, some are found in battle, some in 
self-sacrifice, some with a man's sword, some in a woman's heart. 
It has come to the attention of the crown that two of my finest 
officers, whose bravery on the battlefield have been a shining 
example to us all, have exchanged the vows of betrothal. There 
can be no better way to celebrate the return of the life and light to 
the Realm than to sanctify a marriage. Captain Jourdain, Sword-
Master Aldara, please step forward."
     "What?" Jourdain exclaimed as Aldara gasped in 
surprise. Mulder gave him a slight push, and Scully winked 
brightly at Aldara. "Go on!" she said.
     Aldara was still leaning on a cane, her leg recovering 
slowly from its injuries. Knowing how painful each proud step 
was for her, about half-way down the aisle Jourdain scooped her 
up in his arms and carried his shocked, but smiling, betrothed up 
to the Prince amid rousing cheers and raucous laughter. Setting 
her down carefully in front of the Prince, they both bowed.
     The Prince inclined his head towards them, then 
gestured towards a tall, white-robed woman, wearing a heavy 
wrought iron necklace and a heavy lace veil, standing on the edge 
of the platform. The Priestess came forward to take the silver 
daggers from Andalor, then turned to stand silently facing the 
betrothed couple while Andalor climbed back up onto his throne. 
As the boy wriggled into his seat, the Priestess raised her hands 
high in the air and proclaimed in a commanding voice, "before all 
assembled, before the all-seeing eye and heart of the Mother and 
all the lesser Gods, we bring this man and this woman to be 
joined as one for now and all time forward." 
     She pointed the two silver daggers at Jourdain and 
Aldara's chests. "Two as one you shall be, husband and wife. 
Bring forth children to grace your union, be strong in support of 
the land, never break this bond sworn to this day. Do you 
Jourdain, Captain of the Guard swear your faithfulness to this 
woman, of your own free will."
     "Yes," Jourdain responded gravely.
     "Do you, Aldara Sword-Master, swear your faithfulness 
to this man, of your own free will."
     "Yes," Aldara replied, her cheeks flushed and red, her 
eyes glittering as she turned to smile up at the tall man by her 
side.
     The white-clad Priestess held the two daggers out to 
Aldara and Jourdain. Each took one and staring into each other's 
eyes, made a quick slice on their palms, then pressed the cuts 
against each other, letting their blood mingle as it dripped into a 
chalice held beneath their clasped hands. After a moment, the 
blood stopped flowing and the Priestess spoke again.
     "As Priestess to the Goddess, the Mother of All, I so 
bind these two as husband and wife. May SHE bless you with 
children, may the Gods smile upon your path." Bringing the cup 
up to her mouth she took a swallow, then offered it to Jourdain, 
who drank, then gave it to Aldara, who did the same, then 
handed the cup back to the Priestess who gave it to a servant. 
Jourdain and Aldara turned to the crowd and held their hands up 
in the air. Those in front who could see the healed scars where 
the cuts had been broke out into loud cheers, which were soon 
were echoed throughout the room. Standing in the back, Mulder 
eyed his hand, then sent a thought down their mindlink to Scully. 
"If you don't mind, I think I'd rather wait until we get home to 
get married." 
     While Jourdain and Aldara returned to their places in the 
back, Andalor reclaimed the stage from the Priestess, scrambling 
back down from the throne far less ceremoniously than he had 
before. Mulder thought with amusement that the boy must be 
getting rather bored by now; but as Scully pushed around Mulder 
to give Aldara a hug, the Prince resumed his regal bearing and 
gestured for silence. His child's musical voice rang out over the 
sounds of the crowd. "The last debt the Realm owes could never 
be paid in full. Any offering I could make would be an 
insignificant return on the sacrifices they have made for us. 
Travellers, come forward."
     It took Mulder and Scully a moment to remember that 
meant them, then Scully took Mulder's hand and led him forward. 
She knew this kind of thing embarrassed him, but she knew how 
important this was to Andalor. Solemnly they walked the length 
of the small corridor and up to the dais, then kneeled down in 
front of the Prince.
     "You have both offered your lives for the Realm, even 
though it is not your home. In recognition of your loyalty and 
bravery, you are hereby granted full rights and citizenship within 
the Fairwood Kingdom. Visitors you no longer are, here will be a 
home for you for as long as you wish it, for any and all time you 
wish to remain or return to this demesne. As a symbol of your 
status, I give you each a sword." At Andalor's words, two 
soldiers stepped forward, each bearing a shiny iron sword with a 
silver handle, encased in a wrought leather holder, the smaller 
one dyed brown and green, the larger one a deep rich blue. 
Mulder and Scully each took the appropriate sword and bowed 
to the Prince. "Thank you," they said in unison, blue eyes bright 
with unshed tears, hazel eyes clear and gleaming.
     As the two Travellers stood to face the assembly, 
thousands of voices rang out in one thunderous cheer.
                         - - - - -
     
     The celebration went on throughout the day and deep 
into the night. Mulder and Scully had eaten until they were 
stuffed, danced until they were exhausted, and drank enough 
foamy ale to make them both giddy. After a fumbling start, full of 
good-natured laughter and slight embarrassment, they had both 
learned the elaborate line and circle patterns of the Realm's 
formal dancing. More than once, Jourdain had swept Scully 
away, leaving a blushing, but lovely Aldara to lean against the 
strength of Mulder's arm. The early tension between the half-elf 
and the foreign mage was long gone, replaced by a an easy and 
comfortable friendship. Sometimes they just stood and chatted, 
Mulder's dry wit picking at the various dignitaries until Aldara 
was laughing so vigorously she could hardly take a breath. Or he 
would mimic her new husband, picking up her small frame into 
his arms and carrying her across the floor.
     Scully saved a dance to drag the sputtering Reinald out 
on the floor, the mage disclaiming the entire time that he did 
NOT dance. But after the first few steps, and a good shove in the 
back by a very amused Mulder, he gave in and danced quite well, 
enjoying himself immensely, even though he refused to admit it. 
Mulder winked at Scully as he retrieved his life-bondmate from 
her reluctant partner, getting a peal of laughter in return. 
     Even the old Healer Corvay was not completely immune 
from the festivities, Mulder and Scully both delighted to see him 
lead Lita in one of the dances. One look at Scully's happy, but 
thoughtful, face and Mulder teased her silently, through their 
bond-link, "Now, Scully, don't even think about it." Her face was 
purely innocent, and breathtakingly beautiful, as she turned to 
look up at him, the question in her wide, clear blue eyes and 
slightly parted lips. He grinned and leaned down to whisper in her 
ear, his breath hot against her neck, "No matchmaking!" She 
leaned back to look gravely up at him, "I wouldn't dare!" she said 
gravely, then bust out into laughter. "Come on, Mulder. Let's 
dance." 
     After several hours, it was with a sense of relief that 
they finally escaped into Reinald's workroom, along with Reinald 
himself, Aldara, Jourdain, and Tarnor. Scully sank gratefully into 
the heavily-cushioned chair in front of the fireplace, her dress 
fanning out around him a rich folds of green velvet. Her cheeks 
were blooming with color from the dancing, her eyes were 
brilliant sapphires, gleaming with laughter and a bit too much 
wine. Mulder settled himself at her feet, long legs splayed out 
across the floor, leaning his head back against her lap. She rested 
one hand on his shoulder, using the other to gently caress his 
hair. He crossed his hand over his chest to hold hers and closed 
his eyes in pleasure.
     Jourdain took over the neighboring chair lifting his bride 
up into his lap. Aldara wrapped her arms around his neck and 
shoulders, resting in the security of his embrace, the bright 
yellow-green of her flowing silk dress spreading over Jourdain's 
cradling arms. Reinald eyed the two couples with unconcealed 
amusement, and when the customary offer of tea was refused all 
around, he pulled a third chair towards the fireplace, joining them 
while Tarnor got the fire started. Once it was blazing in the big 
hearth, throwing out streams of light and warmth, Tarnor 
squatted down on the floor beside Mulder with a sigh, rubbing 
his belly.
     "Ate too much, Tarnor?" Mulder teased.
     As the little gray gargoyle nodded, Scully grinned. 
"You're one to talk about over-eating. After today we may need 
to have poor Lita take out a seam in your clothing." Mulder shot 
her an exaggerated pout while the others laughed. Then he 
smiled, too, rubbing his own stomach. "You may be right."
     Once the laughter had died down, Scully turned to 
Aldara and Jourdain. "So what are your plans now? In our world, 
a marriage is usually followed by what we call a 'honeymoon' - 
the couple takes a trip together."
     "That's an interesting custom. Usually here, the newly-
married stay at home with their families. In fact its customary that 
a member of both families is present at the first union." Aldara 
explained. "But our situation is a little different. Jourdain doesn't 
have much family still living, and mine has no interest in me." 
Mulder gave her a look of intense sympathy as Jourdain tightened 
his arms around his bride at the sadness in her voice and kissed 
the dark top of her head. "Your family is right here," he 
whispered. She angled her head to give him a glowing smile, then 
looked back at Scully. "Actually, I really like your custom. How 
long do these journeys usually last?"
     "Depends on the people involved, a couple of days to a 
couple of weeks. The idea is to give the newlyweds time alone 
together away from responsibilities."
     "I like the sound of that more and more," Aldara 
responded. Jourdain sighed, then grinned. "Why not? My men 
can handle cleaning up any stray creatures without me. And I've 
always wanted to visit the ocean."
     "Oh, yes, please!" Aldara said, her hair rippling down 
her back as she hugged Jourdain tighter, getting a snort from 
Reinald, mutual smiles from Scully, Mulder and Tarnor.
     "There's one thing I don't quite understand," Mulder 
commented. "Corvay explained to Scully about the rites of 
validation for a life-bond, in which the couple is left alone in a 
special house. Why is it so different from the marriage ceremony? 
After all, they're pretty much the same thing."
     "Marriages and life-bonds are often shared by the same 
two people, but not always," Reinald explained. "Most marriages 
do not involve a life-bond, though most life-bonded pairs do get 
married. Still, these are considered quite different events. A life-
bond is a special joining of two individuals, private and unique to 
them. But a marriage is often far more than that, usually it is a 
joining of families and properties, involving questions of land 
rights, political alliances, and inheritances. Often the parents or 
siblings of the married couple have much more at stake than the 
new husband and wife. Also, its an ancient custom to have 
members of both families witness the...unh...proof of the 
bride's...ummm...innocence on her wedding night." He came to 
halt, his cheeks flushing bright red. Aldara and Scully both 
grinned at the mage's embarrasment, while Mulder looked 
thoughtful, absorbing the information.
     "What about you, Mulder, Scully?" Tarnor asked. 
"Marriage may be something of a formality with a life-bond, but 
have you thought about it?"
     "I think we'll wait until we get home," Scully replied, 
then added teasingly. "Mulder doesn't like the idea of cutting 
himself." 
     "Home?" Jourdain and Aldara both stared at the 
Travellers. "You're not planning to try to go through the vortex 
again?" Jourdain asked worriedly.
     Mulder, Scully and Reinald exchanged glances, then 
Scully spoke softly. "I'm sorry. We meant to land the news on 
you later, in a better way. If there is a better way. It's just that I 
miss my family, and Mulder does too, at least..." she hedged, 
looking down at Mulder's darkening face.
     He spoke up quickly, deciding to tell them the full truth, 
however much it hurt to say it aloud. "My sister disappeared 
many years ago. I think she's still alive - somewhere. I swore that 
I'd never give up trying to find her. I can't do that here, I have to 
go home. And Scully's mother and sister and brothers must be 
frantic, not knowing what happened to her."
     Jourdain nodded, he understood about keeping oaths, 
especially the ones you made with yourself. But there was still 
the question of the vortex. "Manipulating the vortex already 
nearly killed you both once. Can you be certain that you can 
control the vortex enough to end up in the right place, and still 
alive?"
     "No, not for certain." Mulder admitted.  "But this vortex 
will be much smaller than the one we created for the war. So it 
should be easier to control. Reinald was able to bring Tarnor, 
Scully and me through one alone, with my help, and the 
additional experience we've had, it should be easier this time."
     "Are you sure you don't want to stay here?" Aldara had 
to ask. She knew it was selfish of her, but she hated the thought 
of losing her friends, she had few to start with and Scully was as 
dear to her as any sister could be. "With your talents you could 
make a good life here. With the Dark gone, the Realm really is a 
pleasant place to live." 
     Scully saw the pain in her friend's eyes, even through the 
alcoholic haze, and reached out to take her hand. "I don't like the 
idea of leaving our friends. You have been wonderful to us, and 
we've come to love you all very much. We thought very seriously 
about staying.  But we have to at least try to get home. I'm 
worried about my mother. My father died recently, and having 
me just disappear like this will be very painful for her. I'm sorry 
Aldara, but we don't really belong here."
     "I understand," Aldara said tearfully. And as much as it 
hurt, she really did understand. "I'm going to miss you both a 
lot."
     "We're going to miss you, too," Scully replied, her blue 
eyes growing bright with unshed tears. "All of you." Her voice 
broke on the last word, and Mulder pulled her hand in his to his 
mouth so that he could kiss it, his mind sending waves of love 
and comfort through the life-bond. 
     "Well, it's not like we're leaving tonight. It will take a 
while to make plans. No need to spoil tonight with good-byes." 
Mulder suggested. 
     "That's right," Reinald agreed. "The spell will probably 
take days to work out. In the meantime, this is supposed to be a 
celebration. Anyone for another glass of wine?"
     "Sure," the men exclaimed, eliciting mutual sighs from 
the women. Tarnor had been silent up to this point, his ears 
twitching with emotion. Now he bared his alarming teeth in a 
wide grin and stood up. "I'll go see if there are any sober servants 
around," he offered, bobbing towards the door. When he didn't 
quite make it, coming to a confused halt then plopping to the 
floor with a loud burp, the others burst out laughing. 
     "Forget the wine," Scully observed between giggles. 
"Better get Tarnor into his bed."
     "And me as well," Aldara responded. She hiccuped, then 
giggled again, as Scully couldn't resist commenting, "I don't think 
you'd fit to well into Tarnor's bed. Besides, I think Jourdain has 
other plans."
     "I think it's time to get YOU into bed," Mulder 
responded, standing up and scooping her up into his arms. She 
wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled against his 
shoulder. As Mulder carried her past the dazed figure of Tarnor, 
Scully leaned her head backwards to wink upside down at 
Jourdain and Aldara.     "Enjoy your wedding night!" She 
dissolved into another fit of giggles as Mulder carried her 
through the door and down the hall, the room echoing with her 
mirth.
                         
                   -----------------



     As a teary-eyed Lita left the room, Scully ran into the 
welcoming shelter of Mulder's arms. He clasped her against him, 
leaning down to kiss the tears from her eyes. She reached up to 
grasp onto his shoulders, letting his love wash over her in 
soothing waves. They remained standing in their embrace for a 
few moments, then Scully tilted her head up so she could meet 
his eyes.
     "I'm going to miss everyone here so much," she said.
     He leaned down to brush her lips with his, then nodded. 
"Me, too." He sighed, his eyes turning black. "I hated seeing 
Andalor so upset. He really wanted us to stay."
     "Yes, he's very attached to you," she said, remembering 
all too clearly the boy-Prince's unhappy response to their 
goodbyes that morning. It had been difficult for all involved, but 
especially for Mulder. He may not admit it, even to her, but she 
knew her life-bondmate well enugh to know that he was just as 
fond of the young Prince as Andalor was of him.
     "Just as Lita is attached to you." He whispered, catching 
the essence of her thoughts, even as he rested his forehead 
against the top of her head, breathing in the fragrance of her hair. 
"I wish there had been an easier way to do this."
     "Me, too," she echoed, presing her face into the 
muscular strength of his chest, the place just below his shoulder 
which she felt was made just for her. Lita, too had been deeply 
upset by the news they were leaving, though she had attempted 
to hide it. Scully wished there was a way she could have avoided 
hurting her friend's feelings.
     "How did Corvay take the news?" he questioned, 
sending a mixture of concern and suppport down their mindlink 
in response to her pain. 
     "Well," she replied, her voice muffled by the fabric of his 
tunic. "I think he understood best of all. He wished us both well, 
and gave me a packet of his medicinal herbs." She angled her 
head up to look at him, a tentative smile on her face. Corvay had, 
as was usual with him, been very philosophical about the whole 
thing - and obviously unsurprised. "I think he knew somehow 
that we would need to leave once the battle was over, so was 
prepared for it, though I think he would have prefered for us to 
say." Her smile grew warmer. "He was gruff about it, but I think 
he'll miss me some."
     "I think he'll miss you a lot." Mulder responded, 
returning her smile.
     "I'll miss him too," Scully responded. "But I have to 
admit that I'm delighted with the herbs he gave me. I can't wait to 
be able to get them analyzed."
     His smile widened as he teased her. "Why am I not 
surprised, Doctor Scully?"
     "Beast!" she accused in a more lighthearted voice than 
he had heard from her in a while. He kissed her forehead, then 
looked down into her eyes, his expression becoming more 
serious. "I know saying goodbye to out friends here is hard, 
Scully, but I think we're doing the right thing. We belong in our 
world, not here."
     "You're right," she responded, her face saddened but 
certain. "All the training and then the trial and the war kept me 
too busy to think much about it, but now...now I just keep seeing 
my mother's face. Finding out we disappeared must have been 
devastating for her."
     "We'll get home, Dana," he reassured her, tightening his 
arms around her. "I promise."
                         - - - - -
               
     The day Mulder and Scully left Fairwood dawned clear 
and bright, the sun beating down in shimmering waves of heat. 
Scully was already sweating by the time she had finished saddling 
her horse. The packs containing clothes, food, and the medicinal 
herbs Corvay had given her a a goodbye-gift were carefully 
secured to the back of the saddle, the sword that Andalor had 
given her was hanging down her back. She was dressed in a light 
green tunic over brown leggings, her feet encased in soft leather 
boots. As usual her hair was bound in a bright red, braided knot 
on the crown of her head. One final check of the girth and the 
bridle, and she knew there was no more reason for delay.
     She turned to Mulder who was standing by his horse, 
staring up at the castle, a somber expression on his face. He was 
dressed in a bright blue tunic, his matching mage cloak draped 
over the back of his saddle. The silver-gilded sword was hanging 
down his back, as crooked as ever, and she only barely resisted 
the temptation to reach out and straighten it.
     "Ready to go?" she asked. He turned to face her. "Yes, I 
guess there's no point in waiting."
     "I'll miss this place, too," she said sympathetically.
     "I know, Scully," he smiled softly down at her, his eyes 
bright as they looked into the beauty of her face. 
     "Well, maybe this will help you remember us," Aldara's 
voice interrupted them as she hobbled into the courtyard, leaning 
on a silver cane. Behind her, Jourdain was carrying a large cloth 
bundle, tied with a bright red string. 
     "What is it?" Mulder asked, curiosity lighting his eyes.
     "It's a tapestry. We had it commissioned the day after 
the celebration. Reinald set the spells himself, and Lita did most 
of the design work." Aldara explained with a hesitant smile.
     "That's wonderful!" Scully exclaimed, taking the heavy 
wrapped cloth from Jourdain. "We'll treasure it always." Mulder 
nodded agreement, his mouth curving upwards in a smile.
     "Are you sure you don't want company on the ride?" 
Jourdain offered, as he done repeatedly over the few days.
     "No, Jourdain, thank you. Tarnor will guide us well. 
You belong here with your bride. We wish you both the best." 
Scully replied, handing the tapestry over to Mulder, then reaching 
out to give first Aldara and then Jourdain a tearful hug. "Take 
good care of each other!"
     "We will," Jourdain promised, putting his arm around 
his wife's shoulders. 
     Just as Mulder had finished securing the bundle to his 
saddle, Reinald rushed over to join them, his blue robe askew, his 
white hair sticking out in all directions. "I'm glad I didn't miss you 
before you left. I have something for you," he said, holding out a 
small pouch to Mulder.
     Mulder accepted it and opened the drawstring, pouring 
the contents out into his hand. It was a tiny version of the Oracle 
Cloud suspended on a thick gold chain. "It's beautiful," he said, 
eyes bright with pleasure. 
     "I THINK it may allow you to contact me if necessary, 
even from your world. It will only work once, so be careful of 
when and how you use it." Reinald explained with some pride. 
Mulder's mage-trained eyes could see the blue strands of the spell 
on the tiny crystal, and he smiled gravely. "I will treat it with 
care, Reinald. Thank you." He pulled the chain over his neck and 
dropped the crystal under his shirt so that it rested against his 
chest. 
     "Goodbye, dear friends," Reinald said sadly. "I hope you 
find your way home safely."
     "Goodbye," Mulder said reaching out to clasp his 
friend's shoulder. "We'll never forget you, all of you!"
     At that moment Tarnor led his small pony out of the 
barn and came up beside them. Mulder gave one more long look 
around at the place that had been their home for close to a year 
and sighed. "I guess we'd better get on the road." Scully agreed, 
turning to mount her horse with the ease of long practice.
     Once all three were mounted and ready to go, they rode 
silently to the edge of the courtyard, then turned and waved. 
Standing by the door to the stables, Reinald, Jourdain and Aldara 
waved back, watching together as the three riders guided their 
horses in a steady trot to the castle gates, then waving back once 
more, urged them out onto the road, breaking into a smooth 
cantor.
     "Gods go with you," Aldara whispered, leaning against 
her husband's shoulder. "May the Mother watch your path and 
guide you safely home."
     "Amen," Jourdain responded, still gazing out at the 
dusty road. "Amen."
                         - - - - -

     The ride through the woods was quiet and peaceful. 
Except for the occasional deer-like animal and the ever-present 
chattering birds, they did not encounter another living soul once 
they left the Forest Edge Village where they had stopped for 
dinner and a good night's sleep. The last day of their three-day 
journey was spent mostly in silence, each caught up in his or her 
own private thoughts. Mulder and Scully were not shutting each 
other out, they simply gave each other the space they each 
needed to start putting the past behind them and begin the 
process of focusing on the future.
     Tarnor guided them easily through the woods, closing in 
on the vortex site hour by hour. They stopped for lunch on the 
banks of a small stream, refreshing themselves with the clear 
water and a meal of bread and fruit. Then they continued along 
their journey, in places having to dismount and lead the horses 
through the dense forest, in others having to use their swords to 
cut the heavy brush back from the heavily overgrown path. But 
Tarnor's gargoyle sense of direction was just as exact here in the 
deep woods as it was in the rambling mines and caves of his 
people's homes, and he brought them into the familiar clearing by 
late afternoon.
     A wide grin broke over Mulder's face as he gazed up at 
the massive oak he had fallen into on their first trip through the 
vortex. "Well, at least I know I won't get stuck up in a tree in the 
lab," he commented wryly.
     "That's if we actually end up in the lab," Scully reminded 
him. "Are you sure you can do this?" she asked Mulder 
anxiously. Now that they were actually here, her fears over 
stepping into the unknown vortex were rising sharply.
     Mulder swallowed, the instant reassurance dying on his 
lips. "I...I THINK so, Scully," he replied honestly. "If you want 
to call this off, I'll understand," he said, sharing her concerns. 
Though he thought he could handle this, he couldn't be certain 
until he tried it, and he was hesitant to put Scully in danger.
     "No" Scully said, her chin jutting forward in 
determination. They had come this far, she was not going to give 
up now. Not when they could be home in a matter of minutes - 
well, at least in the right dimension. She slid down off her horse, 
then glanced up at her partner, blue eyes bright as she insisted 
firmly. "Take us home, Mulder!"
     He nodded, accepting her decision. Dismounting from 
his horse, he took Scully's reins and handed both horses over to 
Tarnor. As he and Scully both removed the packs from the 
horses, he told Tarnor to take the horses out of sight. "The last 
thing we need is the horses bolting from fright."
     Tarnor bobbed his head in understanding. He looked 
anxiously at the couple standing on the forest floor in front of 
him, his ears twitching. "Good luck to you both. I hope your 
journey home is both quick and safe."
     "You, too, Tarnor," Scully responded, knowing she 
spoke for both Mulder and herself. Smiling she reached to tap the 
little gargoyle on his leg. "Take good care of Reinald, and watch 
out for Jourdain and Aldara."
     "I will," he promised, giving them one last glimpse of his 
toothy smile. Then he turned to lead the horses back through the 
woods, leaving Mulder and Scully standing alone in the fading 
light, small leather bundles piled at their feet.
     "Ready?" Mulder asked, throwing one of the packs over 
his shoulder by its straps and hefting the bundle containing the 
tapestry in his left hand.
     "Yes," Scully answered tensely, looping the other two 
packs over her shoulder, then reaching out to take his right hand. 
He threaded his fingers tightly through hers, then closed his eyes 
and began to concentrate.
     Scully felt the now-familiar power grow in him, blue 
strands of fire lancing up and down their clasped arms, filling the 
small glade with brilliant blue light. Quickly grounded and 
shielded, so as not to create too much of a Mage-storm, Mulder 
centered, then focused the power, slowly building the vortex spell 
step by step.
     Scully shuddered and moved closer to him as the wind 
began to pick up and the air darkened. Mulder's chant was silent, 
but it echoed in both their minds as it increased in intensity, the 
power leaping up around their bodies, then swirling out at his 
command to form a pinpoint of light a few feet in front of them.
     The small center of the spell wavered and expanded, 
seemingly drinking the very air itself. Concentric black and white 
circles formed one upon another, rippling in a mesmerizing flow 
of light and darkness. One shouted command escaping from 
Mulder's clamped lips and it burst into outward into a shimmering 
whirlpool nearly six feet wide. 
     Wind whipped around it, making Mulder and Scully 
fight for their footing as they stepped cautiously toward the 
mouth of the vortex. Right at its edge, the paused and looked 
deep into each other's eyes.  
     "I love Dana!" Mulder's mindvoice echoed in Scully's 
mind.
     "I love you Fox!" she sent back, grasping onto his hand 
so tightly her fingers turned white. Minds melding in one last 
exchange of affection and commitment, they simultaneously 
closed their eyes and stepped forward into the vortex...

                         
                   -----------------


     ...and the Vortex spat them out into that cold, sterile 
room, five feet from the surface of the floor.
     "Aaaagghhh!  God damn it!"
     "Mulder, are you all right?  Oh, gods, my head!"  Scully 
rubbed her temple where it had struck the counter.
     The room was dark, but certainly looked like the place 
they had left precipitously so long ago.  The windows looked out 
on a night sky and rain spattered against the glass.  The room 
was chilly, with a strange, foreign, metallic smell to it.
     "Yeah, I just twisted my knee.  Not even back thirty 
seconds and I'll need to have x-rays.  Incredible," growled 
Mulder.  He dragged himself and his bundles over to the closest 
wall and sat leaning against it.
     Still dizzy from the trip through the Vortex, Scully 
grabbed her sack and crawled over on her hands and knees to 
where Mulder was sitting.  "Let me see it.  You're going to have 
to take your pants down, Mulder - they won't roll up and I need 
to examine your knee.  It's going to be hard enough in the dark."
     "Just don't take advantage of me in my weakened 
condition,"  said Mulder.  He did as she asked and grimaced in 
pain when the movement jarred his leg.
     "You should be so lucky,"  murmured Scully, examining 
his knee with her now curious mixture of conventional medical 
knowledge and Realm healing practices.  She was quiet for a 
while, obviously trying very hard to concentrate.  "Well, you did 
a nice job, Mulder - it's definitely badly sprained, with maybe 
some ligament damage thrown in for good measure."
     "Can you fix it, or are you going to make me go to the 
hospital and then I'll have to fill out all those insurance forms.  I 
can hardly wait until I get to the space where it asks how the 
accident happened - "Well, I was returning through a vortex from 
another reality when -"   They'll lock me up for sure."
     "In view of some of your other injuries and how they 
were acquired, I wouldn't worry about it."  Scully looked at him.  
"Well, it will be interesting to see if psychic healing works in this 
reality.  I was able to examine your knee the "Realm way", but it 
was more difficult to do and the results were less clear than they 
would have been in the Realm.   Okay, hold still, let's see what I 
can do."
     She laid her hands on his knee and concentrated as hard 
as she could, reaching in with her mind to find the injured cells, 
help them heal, stop the small amount of bleeding in the tissues, 
and soothe the inflammation away.  She was trembling with the 
effort when she felt Mulder's hand on her cheek.
     "Scully, it's all right, come out of it."    Mulder's 
expression was concerned and he sought her eyes anxiously.
     She took a deep, tremulous breath.  "Evidently, these 
powers don't travel well.  Did I make any difference?"
     "Yeah, the pain's not so bad now.  I got a feeling of 
warmth when you were in there.  It's still pretty swollen, though."  
Mulder pulled up his leather breeches.
     "Do you think it's the same with all the extraordinary 
things we could do in the Realm?  Do you think we're losing 
everything?"  Scully asked, suddenly alarmed.  "Mulder, our 
link!"
     Almost in a panic, his mind reached out to hers, and she 
caught and held it gratefully, caressing it in relief.  She put her 
arms around him.  "Oh, thank the gods, Mulder.  It seems like 
we've given up so much to come back home, but that's the one 
thing I didn't want to lose - that feeling, that closeness.  I don't 
think I could stand being 'alone' in there again."
     Mulder smiled gently, tracing her hairline, her eyes, her 
lips with his fingertips.  "I guess life-bonds travel better.  No, I 
couldn't stand it either."  He kissed her slowly, sweetly, his 
gratitude for that special bond evident in his touch.  They held 
each other close for some time, celebrating the survival of that 
most precious souvenir of the Realm.
     "I wonder what the date is?  Too bad there's no calendar 
in here,"  Mulder said.   "Everything looks exactly the same as 
when we left, but I suppose this lab hasn't changed substantially 
in years.  I'm just assuming that the door is locked, of course.  
Uh, Scully, you wouldn't want to walk over there and check it 
out, would you?  In view of my weakened condition?"
     "That's going to get old real quick, Mulder."  Scully 
cautiously got to her feet, holding on to the wall for support until 
the dizziness had abated.  Then she walked the length of the 
room and tried the doorknob.  "Locked."  She felt the walls near 
the door.   "Evidently the light switch is on the outside of the 
room.  So we're going to stay locked in the dark for a while.  She 
walked back again to Mulder and sat down next to him on the 
floor.  "Now what?"
     "Well, we'll see when it gets light.  Kind of depends on 
what day it is.  If we've had the lack of foresight to come back on 
a Sunday, we could be in here for a while.  If it's a weekday, 
someone will be around, either next door or below us or 
somewhere.  Hell, we can heave a piece of equipment out the 
window to attract attention if we have to.  Or, I could try to 
unlock the door."
     "Too bad you don't have your burglary tools with you,"  
Scully commented.
     "Well, you had the opportunity to see if your powers 
still worked, let me see what I can do with mine."
     She sensed him concentrate and go through the now 
automatic routine of centering, grounding and shielding.  Scully 
saw the doorknob turn marginally, heard a metallic clicking 
sound from time to time.  Sweat stood out on Mulder's brow 
from the effort he was exerting.  
     "Mulder, stop.  It doesn't matter.  Not at this point, 
anyway,"  said Scully, concerned.
     "I see what you meant, Scully.  It seems like it's harder 
to focus, harder to see what you're trying to do."  Mulder sighed.  
"Well, it was nice while it lasted.  Too bad, I was kind of looking 
forward to levitating a few bad guys."
     "Just as well, Mulder.  Try explaining THAT to 
Skinner."  Scully smiled up at him.
     They were quiet for a while, locked in their own 
thoughts.  Scully sighed and opened the sack.  She took out the 
tapestry and sat touching it wistfully.  Mulder entered her mind 
very gently and sensed her melancholy.
     "I know - I miss them already too."
     "Mulder, did we make the right decision?  It seems we 
left just when things were going to be at their best - the Prince 
back in good health, the Dark Realm forces defeated, that little 
wart Drellor in prison.  Maybe we should have stayed around for 
a while, to enjoy it while we could, without the training and the 
fighting and the blood and the horror."
     He held her closer and stroked her hair.  "The longer we 
stayed, the more attached we would have gotten and the harder 
transition we would have back here."
     She nodded.  "I know that.  I guess I'm just being 
selfish, but if it hadn't been for my family, I would have been 
happy to stay there.  If it hadn't been for your search for 
Samantha, you would have wanted to stay, too."  She felt his 
mind flinch, recoiling slightly at the mention of Samantha's name,  
and she communicated an apology.
     "No, that's all right,"  Mulder said with a sad smile.   
"You're right, Dana, a large part of why we came back was 
because of my work and your family.   But it's not like we had a 
horrible existence here.  I think that you're tired and reacting to 
the effects of the Vortex and the transition back.  Give yourself 
some time.  Besides, there's some good things about being back."
     "Like?"  Scully was getting a perverse pleasure out of 
her depression, and was not about to give up on it easily.
     "Okay, how about coffee?  As wonderful as their tea 
was, there were times in the Realm I would have killed for a cup 
of coffee.  And sunflower seeds.  Of all the plants for the Realm 
not to have!  And tacos and burritos and pepperoni pizza.  Uh-
oh, probably not a good subject to raise, sitting in a locked room.  
I know we have bread and jerky, but somehow it's just not quite 
the same."
     Scully smiled.  "You know what I missed the most?  
Showers!  Tubs are great, and sometimes even fun," she said with 
a sidelong glance at Mulder.  "But  I want a nice hot shower so 
bad..."
     "Showers can be fun, too,"  said Mulder, and he looked 
so hopeful that Scully laughed in spite of herself.  They were 
quiet for a few seconds, just enjoying being in each other's 
presence.
     "Thank you," she said.
     "For what?"
     "For being you.  For loving me." She took hold of his 
hand as it rested against her shoulder and threaded her fingers 
through his.
     "Mmmm.  Any time."  He sighed and lay his cheek 
against her hair. 
     "That's going to be something else to get used to."
     "What?"
     "You and me.  Here."  Scully snuggled into his chest.  
"Maybe that's another reason why I miss the Realm so much - I 
kind of associate the Realm with you and me being, you know, 
together and life-bonded. I associate our world with having to 
hide feelings and being unaware of our life-bond and being so 
alone."
     "Never again,"  he said firmly.  Mulder thought for a 
minute.  "We're still life-bonded and we'll always have that, it's 
undeniable.  And because of that, we'll never be alone again, for 
which I, for one, am incredibly grateful."   He hugged her tighter 
and she returned his embrace.  "But about the 'hiding our feelings' 
part - there's still the Bureau."
     "I know - Mulder , what are we going to do?"
     "I don't know, we'll figure it out.  I think as long as 
we're discrete, it will be alright.  Maybe business as usual at the 
office, and we'll figure out something with the living 
arrangements.
     "How are we going to explain all this Vortex and 
gargoyle business to Skinner?"  asked Scully.
     "Now that is definitely something I'm too tired to think 
about right now.   I don't know, let's wait until we've talked to 
Professor Neumann.  We might as well get some rest.   Nothing's 
going to happen until it gets light out, at the earliest, and it 
doesn't look like that is going to happen any time soon."
     They closed their eyes, not counting on sleeping, but the 
effects of the trip through the Vortex and their attempts to use 
their powers had drained them more than they knew.  They slept 
leaning against the wall in each other's arms for several hours.
                         - - - - -

     The thud of a closing door nearby awakened them with 
a start.  They had just opened their eyes to the murky dawn light 
when the overheads came on suddenly, and they involuntarily 
closed them again.  They heard the sound of a key in the door, 
and forced their eyes open, squinting in the bright light.
     "My God!"  Professor Neumann stood silhouetted in the 
doorway against the dark of the prep room.  "Where did you go 
to?   God, look at you!"  He stared at them, disbelief, wonder, 
and fascination passing in turns over his face.
     Mulder and Scully rose to their feet, Mulder with some 
difficulty.  "It's a very long story,"  he said.  Suddenly, his 
attention was focused on the vinyl tile floor.  Either they had very 
poor custodial services, or...
     "Professor Neumann, how long have we been gone?"  
Hearing the tension in Mulder's voice, Scully looked up at him, 
and started to touch his mind.  Coffee stains?
     "It's Wednesday morning - you disappeared Monday 
evening."
     Scully stared at him.  "That's impossible," she said flatly.
     Mulder was staring out of the window, then he turned 
around to face her.  "No, he's right.  I noticed those stains on the 
floor where someone had dripped coffee and they're the same, 
exactly the same.  The trees are still in bud, exactly as they were 
when we left.  And more proof - our rental car is still in the same 
place we parked it, except it appears to have a small collection of 
parking citations on it now.  No, Scully, he's telling the truth.  I 
just can't explain it."
     Neumann continued to stare at them as they talked, his 
eyes dilated with amazement. Thirty six hours ago, he had met 
two professionally dressed and coifed agents, in good physical 
shape but nothing special, with the pallor of a long winter on 
their skins.  Now - God, now!    They both wore leather 
breeches, soft white shirts and some kind of leather vest or tunic, 
and were shod in boots.  The clothing was certainly a departure, 
but the Professor had been around Cambridge long enough to see 
everything in terms of bizarre clothing choices.  It was the 
physical changes which were so striking.  The young man's 
physique was different - leaner, stronger, the shoulders and chest 
broader. He had a hardness, an edge to him, a presence or sense 
of self that simply hadn't been there before.  The woman, too.  
Gone was any sense of softness.  Her appearance almost 
screamed that this woman was a force to be reckoned with.  She, 
too, was much leaner and stronger looking, her arms like 
whipcord.  With both of them, there was something in the eyes - 
knowledge, horror, peace; just a hint of more substance.  Both 
were tanned and windburned, the kind of changes to skin that 
occur only over long periods of living or working out of doors.  
Both had long hair, several inches longer than it had been, 
definitely not FBI issue and a change that could not occur in a 
day and a half. 
     "Wherever you've been, it's obvious you've been there 
for more than thirty six hours," he finally said, his voice calmer 
than he felt.  "I'll put on some coffee and we can talk about it."
     "Could we talk somewhere the recovery team did not 
have access to yesterday?  I don't like to sound paranoid, but I 
think you have to at least consider the possibility that some bugs 
may have been left behind."
     "A very good point, Mr. Mulder.  I will have some 
people I know do a thorough check later today.  Meanwhile, we 
can go into a conference room that has been in constant use for 
the past two days for a meeting."
     They  walked down the hallway, or hobbled in Mulder's 
case, to the conference room where they were unlikely to be 
disturbed, at least not for several hours.  A stunned silence was 
maintained while the professor fired up the Mr. Coffee, and then 
poured out a cup of the strong brew for each of them. 
     "Why don't you tell us what went on here after we 'left'.  
You don't have quite as much time to fill in as we do,"  suggested 
Mulder.  He sipped the coffee as if it were ambrosia.
     Professor Neumann nodded.  "Well, I'm assuming you 
heard the arrival of the recovery team?"  Mulder and Scully 
inclined their heads. "They kicked in the door and were not 
pleased when they found nothing.  They interrogated myself and 
my assistant for several hours, including lie detector tests.  It 
perhaps worked to everyone's benefit that we did not have a lot 
of time to talk and exchange ideas prior to your disappearance.  
Since I had no idea where you might have gone, passing the 
polygraph was not a problem."
     "They really forced you to take a polygraph?"  Scully 
asked, astounded.
     "Well, no one put an actual gun to my head,"  replied 
Neumann.  "They just threatened to pull strings and have my 
grants withdrawn - a fate worse than death, as any research 
scientist will tell you.  In fact the gun may be preferable - only 
one life is snuffed out, not a huge body of research."
     Mulder looked a little guiltily at Scully, then at 
Neumann.  "Anything else?"
     "They searched the place pretty thoroughly yesterday, 
looking for hidden panels, anything that could explain how you 
had managed to elude them.  They seemed especially diligent 
when they learned - not from me, by the way - that you, Mr. 
Mulder, were the agent in charge of the case.  They left 
midafternoon yesterday.  Evidently the official line is to be that it 
was a student prank.  They were not amused by the incident."
     "Did they leave you with the impression that they might 
be coming back?"
     The Professor shrugged.  "Anything's possible, I 
suppose, but I honestly didn't get that feeling.  I got the idea that 
they felt they had wasted enough time here and were only too 
happy to go back to Hanscom.  Now, Mr. Mulder, I think you 
two have a story to tell, do you not?"
     Mulder nodded.  "You might want to use those tape 
recorders over there,  and make an audio record for each of us.  
For our own private use, right?  I'm warning you in advance, a lot 
of what you are going to hear is going to sound crazy. As far as 
physical evidence goes, there's our appearances, which show 
changes that can't have been accomplished in thirty six hours.  
We have some things here in the sack which we brought with us, 
but I'm not sure how much they prove.  And we have the fact 
that you saw us go into the locked room with Tarnor, and not 
come out."
     "Tarnor?"
     "Oh, yes, sorry.  That was the name of the gargoyle."  
Mulder looked at Scully - this was going to be very difficult.  
Scully looked at him sympathetically and shrugged.  If Mulder 
had come to her with this story, she would have been very hard-
pressed to believe it, and she knew and respected him.  What was 
this complete stranger - a physicist, no less, used to masses of 
quantifiable data - going to believe?
     As if he had read their minds, he said, "I want to assure 
you - I'm a lot more openminded than you may think.  Space/time 
continuum experiments open up a lot of areas that have only been 
explored in science fiction.  Often, there is a sense of unreality 
about what we do."
     Mulder smiled.  "The irony is, Dr. Neumann, that it isn't 
a case of a lack of reality - it's more a case of too many realities.  
Start your tape recorders."
     When the machines were running, Mulder quickly gave 
a summary of how the Bureau had been notified,  the history of 
X-File involved, the telepathic communication with the creature, 
and their fall through the Vortex.
     "We were in a reality that had multiple species of 
intelligent lifeforms - humans, gargoyles, trolls and elves, which 
lived together in towns but also had separate settlements.  
Interspecies bigotry was not unknown but neither was it 
institutionalized or encouraged.  All spoke the same language and 
participated to varying degrees in the same culture, government, 
and so on.  Certain species had particular gifts, talents and other 
attributes, which we can talk about in more detail later.  There 
was a feudal/agrarian kind of economy and a parliamentary 
monarchy politically. Technologically, the Realm was at a par of 
say, Europe in the 13th or 14th century, with some exceptions - 
anachronisms, I guess you'd say.  However, certain of their 
institutions showed an amazing degree of sophistication; for the 
most part, these were areas in which paranormal or supernatural 
forces were harnessed and used.  I can speak directly to the use 
of magic."  Mulder then went on to explain about how he was 
trained as a magician, the language spell that permitted them to 
communicate,and some of the feats of which he was capable in 
the Realm, up to and including building the Gate and the Vortex.  
Professor Neumann's eyes grew wide with fascination and 
delight.  Mulder then handed the microphone to Scully.
     "I can speak to the use of what would be considered in 
this reality paranormal forces in the diagnosis and treatment of 
disease and injury."   Scully then went on to describe her training 
as a Healer, the use of herbal remedies and the use of psychic 
healing for everything from abrasions to Mulder's poisoning, from 
broken bones to ruptured organs.  She handed the microphone 
back to Mulder, her chest constricting with something very like 
homesickness for the Realm that was so far away.
     "This is all sounding very dry and clinical,"  Mulder said.  
"Actually, it was anything but.   The people and other beings 
there were wonderful, with just as many heroes and villains, just 
as many clowns and tragic figures as we have in our reality.  We 
really became totally integrated into their world in an amazingly 
short length of time.  We left behind a lot of good friends."  
Mulder felt his throat tightening with emotion as he thought of 
them.
     "How long did you perceive you were there?"  inquired 
Neumann.
     Because of the professor's involvement with time 
experiments, Mulder gave the question serious consideration and 
tried to be as accurate as possible in his answer.  "It's difficult to 
tell - they did not appear to have very sophisticated processes in 
place for measuring time - it was mostly by natural phenomena - 
moon cycles, seasons, things like that.  As far as I am aware there 
were no clocks, and I never heard dates referred to.  It was all 
rather vague.  Our watches stopped when we went through the 
Vortex , not that they would have accurately measured time in 
the Realm in any case.  To answer your specific question, we 
were under the impression that we were there 9 to 12 months.  
I'm sorry I can't be any more specific.  We weren't really keeping 
track."
     "I can understand why Scully was trained as a healer, 
because she's a doctor here.  Why in the world were you trained 
as a wizard?"  asked Professor Neumann.
     "Actually, she was a warrior first and a Healer second,"  
Mulder explained.  "It has to do with auras.  These people 
believed that some things are destined to be, and it's indicted by 
an aura of a certain color or quality.  The aura might indicate 
certain talents or in some rare cases, couples who are predestined 
to be together.  My aura is a bright clear blue, considered to be 
indicative of magical ability.  In a way, that's how we ended up in 
the Realm, because of our auras."  Oh god, he's never going to 
believe this, thought Mulder.
     "That's right,"  said Scully.  "They had an ancient 
Prophecy that told of a powerful magician who is bonded to a 
warrior/Healer who come from far away and save the Realm 
from an unspeakable evil.   My aura, warrior's green and Healer's 
brown, is unique - it doesn't exist for anyone else.  Tarnor acted 
as a conduit, our auras were noticed and we were - not prevented 
- from being sucked into the Vortex."  Scully paused.  "Which 
brings me to the important thing we must discuss - "
     "Just a minute.   First tell me what you mean by 
'bonded'."
     "That's something personal.  In any case it can wait,"  
said Scully.
     "Well, what about this unspeakable evil?"
     "That's what we're trying to explain,"  said Mulder.  
"The Vortex is not a natural occurrence in the Realm.  It has 
appeared on an irregular basis for a very long time now.  At one 
time they were conducting experiments with it, but none was 
successful.  When Tarnor and Scully and I travelled through, it 
was the first time anyone had been retrieved successfully from 
this world back to the Realm.  We believe strongly that there is 
be a correlation between the experiments you perform on an 
irregular basis and the appearance of the Vortex in the Realm."
     Professor Neumann nodded.  "Based on what I know of 
the experiments that were performed before my time, and 
certainly the ones I've been performing, I'd say that is surely a 
possibililty."
     Mulder sighed.  "If it were merely a case of an 
intermittant link between our world and the Realm, I would not 
be quite so concerned.  I still wouldn't rest easy, knowing some 
of the types like the recovery team that could go in there and 
wreak havoc, but it wouldn't be as horrible a situation as the one 
that existed."
     Neumann frowned.   "Was there a problem?"
     Scully took up the story.  "The problem was that the 
Realm and our reality were not the only ones involved.  There 
was at least one other, what the people of the Realm called the 
Dark Place. It was -"  Scully shuddered a little and forced herself 
to continue - "it was a place populated by hideous nightmare 
creatures that slaughtered whatever got in their path wherever 
they went.  They used the Vortex to enter the Realm.  They killed 
tens of thousands, between the villages they wiped out, and the 
men and women killed on the field of battle, trying to drive them 
out.  That was the unspeakable evil the Prophecy talked about.  
For us, the war ended just a couple of weeks ago.  You can't 
even begin to imagine how horrible it was."
     "And you think that our experiments created the Vortex, 
allowing these other creatures to enter the Realm,"  said the 
professor thoughtfully.
     Mulder's face reflected the horrors that he and Scully 
had experienced.  "Well, it's extremely unlikely that these Dark 
Realm creatures would have any form of culture which would 
support a science sophisticated enough to have a Vortex that 
originated with them.  These beasts were just killing machines, 
they didn't even have an organized army, just packs of vicious 
things running amok.  And we have no idea what other realities 
may have been linked."  He paused.  "We had no certainty that 
we would emerge here when we came back, we could have 
ended up anywhere, including that nightmare place.  There may 
be forces at work here we're not aware of that direct where 
something exits from the Vortex."
     "God, it would be fascinating to be able to find out what 
those forces are, to control them, to have a limited transportation 
back and forth,"  Neumann's face was illuminated with the 
wonder of it all.  "Can you imagine how fantastic it would be?"
     "Forgive me if I don't share your enthusiasm,"  Mulder 
said drily.  "Don't get me wrong, I would love to go back to the 
Realm someday;  we nearly chose to stay there.  But not if there 
is any risk of again exposing the innocents of that place and time 
to the nightmare we were forced to deal with.  And there's 
another reason.  We couldn't be sure that those creatures weren't 
coming through to our world.  As far as I know, nothing but 
dumb luck prevented it.  In brief, Professor, if we're going to 
open doors, we'd better know what's behind them."
     "What are you going to do?" Neumann asked, his voice 
tinged with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
     Mulder bent over and rested his arms on this knees.  He 
shook his head and stared at the ground,  then looked up at the 
physicist.   "I don't know, I honestly don't.  How likely do you 
think it is that anyone will believe our story?"  The professor 
smiled and shook his head.  "Exactly.  No one is going to believe 
it.  If we were believed, that might be worse. The next thing you 
know the NSA or some organization like it  would be in charge 
of the project, and those 'Gestapo types' you mentioned, 
Professor Neumann, will be trying to take over the Realm.  I 
would personally blow up this lab and take the consequences to 
prevent that from happening, or to prevent another catastrophe 
like the one we saw with the Dark forces."  Mulder looked 
Neumann directly in the eyes.  "The Realm is a living, breathing 
culture, as rich or richer than our own in many ways.  We have a 
lot to learn from them.  For one thing, there was quite a bit about 
their practice of medicine that was more effective and much more 
humane than our own.  But while I would hate to see the door to 
the Realm shut forever, it would be preferable to contamination 
from another reality." 
     "Is there any way that the experiments could be 
controlled to eliminate the risk of opening up another Dark 
Realm?"  asked Scully.
     "Possibly," said Neumann.  "You see, we were just 
working on theory before, merely  hypothesizing that other 
realities existed.  By your evidence, we now know that they do 
exist.  Knowing that, I think some safeguards can be built in 
that...just give me a minute here."  He grabbed a  pencil and pad 
of paper from the conference table and rapidly began scrawling 
some complex mathematical formulae.  He worked intently for at 
least fifteen minutes. 
      Finally Scully said, "Professor?"
     "Oh, sorry, I forgot that you were here,"  he said with 
an apologetic smile.  "All right.  Yes, theoretically, it is possible 
to build in a 'directional factor'.  I can't explain the physics of it
to 
you, and there's a lot of data correlation I would have to do to be 
certain, but I believe that it is possible."     
     "You're saying that you think there's a way to continue 
the experiments that would guarantee that other 'doors' would 
stay closed, and you could open the door to the specific reality 
you wanted to explore,"  Mulder said.
     Neumann nodded.  "Theoretically, yes."
     "Professor, how many people are involved in your 
experiments?"
     "Myself and my assistant, Dr. Karen Mather, are the 
only ones with complete knowledge.  I bring others in as I need 
them to run certain equipment, record results, that kind of thing. 
They're usually grad students, looking for either money or 
academic credits.  Actually, it's possible for me to perform most 
of the experiments with just my assistant."
     "Could you please excuse us, professor?  Just for a 
minute?"  Mulder asked.
     "Certainly. I 'll arrange for that electronic surveillance 
sweep.  I'll call from my office."
                         
                   -----------------


     They watched him leave.  "Mulder, what do you-", 
Scully began.
     //No, Scully, like this//  Mulder's thoughts came through 
to her mind clearly.  //What do you think?//
     //I think he means what he says, Mulder.  I think he'll try 
to eliminate the risk of opening another door like the one to the 
Dark Realm.  But just because he has good intentions doesn't 
mean it's possible.//
     //I know.  The safety of the Realm has to be the number 
one priority, that goes without saying.  But I hate the idea of that 
door closing forever.  And there's the practical aspect.  I think  it 
is very unlikely that we could convince Professor Neumann to 
just drop his life's work, and that of Dr. Mather.  Short of 
blowing up the building with everyone in it, I think the best we 
may be able to hope for is to convince him of the need to protect 
the Realm from contamination by other realities, our own 
included.  Limited exchange is one thing, contamination is 
something else.  Do you think we can trust him to take the same 
care we would?// 
     //Well, I certainly think he's not likely to bring in the 
NSA  or any other government organization, which is to his 
credit.  As to the safeguards to prevent undesired 'leaks' between 
realities, I think he'll do his best.  His fascination and curiosity 
could get the better of him, though. He might decide to go ahead 
with an experiment even if the safety factors are not all that they 
should be.  He reminds me of you a little, Mulder - I think he 
sometimes lets his fascination come before good sense.  Don't 
you think he might tend to let his enthusiasm run away with 
him?//
     Professor Neumann knocked and entered the conference 
room to find Mulder and Scully silent and looking at each other 
intently.  He carried Scully's purse, left behind when they tumbled 
into the Vortex.
     //I don't think so, Scully.  First, I might risk my own 
skin, but I wouldn't risk anyone else's, and I think he's the same.  
I don't know why, but I trust this guy.  I'd like to know a little 
more about his assistant, though.//  Mulder smiled.  //This way of 
talking is going to come in real handy, Scully.//
     Scully smiled back. //Yes, well, right now Neumann is 
looking at us like we just arrived from Mars, so you'd better say 
something.//
     "Sorry, Professor, just thinking,"   Mulder said.  "What 
can you tell us about your assistant, Dr. Mather?"
     "She's in her early fifties, has been here since she was an 
undergraduate.  She's been like a daughter to me and I'd trust her 
with my life.  She, too, has had her share of grief from 
government sources.  I had mine in Germany as a young man 
under the Nazis; she had hers when her father was hauled up 
before the House Un-American Activities Committee in the 
fifties.  She continued in the family tradition by being arrested 
frequently during anti-war protests here in Cambridge in the 
sixties and early seventies.  She has an almost pathological 
reaction to government control.  In other words, Mr. Mulder, I 
think you'd like her.  You will forgive me, the chief of the 
recovery team yesterday went on in some detail about you."  
Professor Neumann grinned.
     Mulder grinned back.  "All very complimentary, I'm 
sure."  He looked at Scully, felt her mind.  "All right, Professor, 
we don't really have much choice other than to trust you. Just 
remember - the people of the Realm are like family to us. We will 
not take it kindly if they get hurt."   The necessary warning given, 
he crossed to where the sack lay on the table.  "If it helps you to 
make them more real, look at these."   
     He pulled the tapestry and swords and some of the other 
gifts from the bag.  Scully joined the men at the table, and Mulder 
and she explained the gifts, their use, their significance, to a 
fascinated Neumann. At times in their story,  one or the other 
would be overcome by the memories and have to stop to regain 
control, while the other went on.
     Eyes shining with wonder and emotion, Professor 
Neumann looked at them when they had finished, and spoke with 
sincerity.  "I give you my word, the Realm will not be placed in 
any further jeopardy by my experiments.  I am only sorry for the 
damage caused by our ignorance.  Rest easy, Mr. Mulder, it will 
not happen again.  Dr. Mather will agree."  He offered his hand, 
which Mulder and then Scully solemnly shook.
                         - - - - -
 
     The  rest of the day went by in a surrealistic blur.  They 
collected the rental car and drove back to the hotel.  It had taken 
Scully a moment to remember how to operate the car, and 
driving, like everything else - sounds, sights, smells - seemed both 
strange and familiar.  When they got to the hotel, they changed 
into sweaters and jeans, rediscovering the most mundane things 
with a momentary flash of surprise - zippers, running water, flush 
toilets.  Then, Scully finished packed their belongings while 
Mulder put in a call to Skinner at the Bureau.  He gave a quick 
summary of the status of the case, hoping Skinner would not ask 
too many questions until he had had a chance to think up more 
plausible answers.
     "I'd like you and Agent Scully to report to me in person 
on this matter, Agent Mulder,"  said Skinner in his typically 
closed manner. "I'll be in meetings for the rest of today and a 
good part of tomorrow.  Be in my office with Agent Scully on 
Friday morning at 9 a.m. sharp."
     "Yes, sir.  By the way, I injured my knee.  I'm just going 
to have it checked out up here before returning."
     He heard Skinner's sigh of impatience.  "Agent Mulder, 
do you have a death wish?  Is there some reason that you are 
unable to complete a case without ending up in a hospital?"
     "Just bad luck, sir."
     "Alright, just follow Bureau protocol.  You should be 
familiar enough with it."
     "Yes, sir." Mulder hung up with a sigh of relief. At least 
now they had some time to think.
     Checking out of the hotel was next, and doing so as 
though they had only been there for a couple of days added to 
their disorientation. But they made it to Mass. General and then 
on to the airport without mishap.  Mulder was not happy about 
squeezing onto a plane with his damaged leg, but luckily their 
flight was relatively empty.  A flight attendant, taking pity on 
Mulder with his knee now encased in a Velcro splint and being 
impressed by the FBI ID, showed them to some empty seats in 
the nearly deserted first class section where he would be able to 
stretch his leg out more comfortably.   Scully shot him a dirty 
look when he gave more than passing thought to using the device 
every time they flew.
     The entire flight and the drive back to Mulder's 
apartment was the same bizarre mixture of familiarity and 
strangeness.  On one level, flying in a jet and driving a car were 
things that were accepted, that they did every day.  But in a way, 
their minds were still very much in the Realm.  Every stimulus 
brought a sort of double-take of response - the first response 
from the mindset of the Realm, one of wonder and surprise and 
newness; and the second one, almost of tedium, accompanied by 
a depressing suspicion that their whole stay in the Realm had 
been a figment of their imaginations.
     On their arrival in Washington, Mulder's eidetic memory 
was, not for the first time, invaluable.  After the passage of nearly 
a year in Realm-time, Scully had no idea where they had left the 
car in the multilevel parking garage.  After finally locating the 
car, they found themselves facing the massive culture shock that 
was Washington traffic during rush hour,  resulting in a long and 
frustrating drive to Mulder's apartment.  After Scully drew up to 
the curb outside his building, they sat motionless for some time, 
then looked at each other and smiled, both a little uncomfortable.
     "I know it's stupid to feel like this," Scully said.  "I guess 
this is kind of what I meant when I said that I don't associate the 
places in this reality with our being together."
     "You can go back to your place if you want, Dana.  If 
you don't feel ready for this here."
Mulder's eyes were calm but he had pulled down a light shield, so 
Scully knew he was not quite as equable as he appeared.
     "No!  No, I'm just being silly," she said firmly, as if 
trying to convince herself.  "Anyway, I'd have to drive your car 
home and I don't think it would be a good idea to have your car 
parked outside my apartment all night."
     "It's been there before, when we've been working on a 
case, and your's has been over here all night.  Let's not get 
morbidly sensitive about all this."  Mulder smiled.  "Discretion is 
one thing, paranoia is something else.  Besides, I'm the one that's 
supposed to be paranoid enough for the both of us."
     They got out of the car, Scully carrying the sack and 
bundles, Mulder leaning heavily on his crutches as they slowly 
made their way up the walk and then up the steps to Mulder's 
building.
     "Better use your keys, Scully.  Mine were in my jacket 
pocket and I think they fell out when I was fighting with a soul-
eater."  They looked at each other, trying to make sense of the 
concept of battling one of those hideous creatures, while standing 
in the middle of Washington D.C.  "This is going to take some 
getting used to,"  admitted Mulder.
     Scully used her key to open the outer door, and when 
they got upstairs, the door to Mulder's apartment.  Once inside 
she put the bundles down on the floor out of the way.  He hung 
his jacket on the coat rack, then took hers and did the same.  
Then he hobbled into the living room, fed his fish and tapped on 
his computer to check his e-mail.
     "Mulder, what are you doing?"  Scully stared at him.
     "I - I'm sorry, Scully.  What?  I'd carry you over the 
threshold, but in my weakened condition -"
     "I don't mean that.  How can you do that?  How can 
you just go around doing what you normally do when you get 
home?"  The tone of her voice was strained, the pitch high.
     He crossed to her, caressed her cheek with his hand, and 
motioned her over to the couch.  His expression was a mixture of 
sympathy and amusement.  "Sit down, Dana. Tell me what's 
bothering you."     "After all that's happened, how can you act 
so...normal?  Things happened to us that have never happened to 
anyone else!  Ever!  There's a whole other world out there, and 
twenty four hours ago, we were in it!  How can you just come in 
and feed your fish?" She felt the sense of disorientation, of 
strangeness, threatening to overwhelm her. Her eyes filled with 
tears as she stared up at him.
     He shrugged helplessly, it was hard for him to explain. 
Now that he was back in his apartment, he just found himself 
doing the things he was accustomed to doing in these 
surroundings.  "I always feed them on Wednesdays.  What would 
you like me to do, Scully?"
     "I don't know.  Something - I don't know."  She was 
trembling now, a single tear dripping down her right cheek. 
     "It's all right, love,"  He smiled tenderly, reaching out to 
wipe away the tear, then gathered her close.  "It's a lot of changes 
to absorb all at once.  I can understand how you feel."  He held 
and rocked her, letting his understanding flow through their life-
bond until he felt her start to relax a few minutes later.
     "Better now?" he asked gently.
     She nodded.  "Sorry."
     "You don't have to apologize." He assured her lovingly.
     "Mulder, if you trot out that nauseating line from "Love 
Story" about love meaning never having to say you're sorry, so 
help me, I'll sprain your good knee,"  Scully said grumpily, then 
sighed.  "I am sorry, though.  I don't usually become a basket 
case.  Why are you dealing with it so well?"
     Mulder laughed.  "Is that an implied insult, Scully?  
Like, why isn't Spooky being spooky?  I've been wondering about 
that myself.  I don't know.  Maybe it's because the abnormal 
seems more normal and less threatening to me than it does to 
you. I'm used to living with the idea that there are strange things 
out there."
     "There's strange, and then there's what we've been 
through, which is way, way beyond strange," she reminded him.
     "Yeah, I know," he responded. "Beats me.  It's not often 
I get yelled at for being normal.  Maybe it's something in the 
bond that won't let us both be crazy at the same time."  He smiled 
at her and gently smoothed her hair.  "Are you staying?'  he asked 
quietly.
     "Yeah, I'm staying."
     "It's up to you.  Only if you want to, if you feel ready."
     //I love you.//
     //I know, I love you, too, but you don't have to stay to 
prove it.//
     Scully looked into his eyes as she brought her lips to his.  
She kissed him tentatively at first, as if he were new to her 
instead of the man who had been her lover for months.  Her 
hands lightly traced his face, his hair, his neck.  Mulder sat very 
still, his arms around her.  Gradually her lips became hungrier, 
demanding and receiving more of a response.  His hands twined 
in her hair, his mouth covering hers until he wrenched it away to 
nibble on her neck.  Scully's hands were in constant motion, now 
flying to his sweater and under to trace his ribs, to feel the skin of 
his chest.
     "I wish I could sweep you off your feet and carry you 
into my bedroom," he murmured.  "But in my weakened 
condition..."  His eyes twinkled.
     Scully's hands never stopped their exploration.  She 
smiled.  "Apparently not all that weakened..."
                         - - - - -

     "Mom?" Dana tried hard not to let her voice shake.
     "Dana, hi!  You don't generally call on a Thursday, 
especially not at this time of the morning.  Is everything all right?  
You're not sick, are you?" Mrs. Scully's voice deepened with 
concern.
     "No, Mom, everything's fine.  What's new?"  Scully's 
hands trembled as she listened to her mother babble on about 
Melissa's new boyfriend and the latest adventures of her brother's 
kids and all the other things that she usually only half-listened to 
while entering a report into her PC.  Today, Scully listened to her 
mother's rich voice, picturing her in the cozy kitchen of her 
house.
     "Look, Mom.   What are your plans for this weekend?  I 
was wondering if Mulder and I could come up for the weekend, 
if there's nothing going on at work and you're not busy."
     "Of course, dear, you know you're both always 
welcome."  Her mother's voice took on a cagy tone.  "One or 
two?"
     Dana chuckled.  Her mother's usual question.  "One, 
Mom."  Not her usual response.
     "Oh!  Oh, okay, I'll see you late Friday night, then, all 
right?  Bye, Dana, I love you." Dana could almost see her 
mother's smile through the phone.
     "Love you too, Mom.  Bye."  Scully laughed out loud.  
She had to hand it to her mother.  She had really tried to play it 
cool, but there was just no hiding the delight in her voice.  She 
wandered back out to join Mulder in the kitchen.
     "How's your mom?" he inquired.
     "Fine.  I think I scared her, calling on a weekday 
morning."
     "Is it okay for this weekend?"  Mulder looked up from 
buttering toast to meet her eyes.
     "Yeah, fine," she replied, sitting down at the table.
     "Does she know...uh, is it going to present a problem 
that..." He couldn't hide the anxiety in his voice or his mind.
     "She's thrilled!" Dana grinned.  "You have no idea how 
long she's been making my life miserable.  Every time we'd visit, 
she would always call ahead of time and ask me if she should 
prepare one room or two, becoming increasingly disappointed 
every time I said 'Two.'  I think I just made her day."
     Mulder smiled with open relief.  "Good, I'm glad she 
approves.  Your mom means a lot to me, and I wouldn't want her 
to think I was corrupting her baby girl.  So what are our plans 
now?"
     A slow smile spread over Scully's face.  "It occurs to me 
that I still haven't had that long-overdue shower,"  she said 
provocatively.
     Mulder dropped the toast he had been munching on, and 
reached for his crutches. "Who's corrupting whom?"
                         - - - - - 
     
     After a long, and very pleasant interlude in the shower, 
they got dressed and drove over to Scully's apartment.  She was 
grateful Mulder was with her when she went inside, for stepping 
back into the apartment which looked exactly as she had left it 
brought another rush of tears to her eyes.  The same pile of dirty 
clothes was sitting in the same basket by the bathroom door, the 
same pile of bills sat on the living room table, right next to the 
novel she'd been reading.  She felt simultaneously like she'd been 
gone forever and hadn't been gone at all.
     Mulder caught the edges of her emotions and wrapped 
his arms around her from behind.  "You okay?" he asked.
     "Yeah, I'm fine," she lied, taking a deep breath.  Mulder 
knew she wasn't feeling 'fine' but he also knew this was 
something he was going to have to let her deal with it her own 
way. "Why don't you go ahead and unpack," he suggested, "while 
I borrow your phone."
     "Who are you calling?" she questioned, picking up her 
suitcase and walking towards her bedroom.
     "The nearest beauty salon." At her arched eyebrow, he 
smiled and fingered his hair. "Want to try to explain THIS to 
Skinner?" he asked.
                         - - - - - 

     "Why do I always feel like I'm Daniel, stepping into the 
lion's den?"  asked Mulder softly, his hand on the doorknob to 
Skinner's office.  "You ready?" 
     Dana nodded and took a deep breath.  "Here goes 
nothing."
     He opened the door and let her precede him, 
encumbered as he was by the crutches.  They took their 
accustomed seats in front of the desk.
     Skinner looked at them - and looked again.  "Have you 
two taken some vacation time lately?  You look different, like 
you've been working out in the outdoors and gotten a tan.  Did 
you ski while you were up in New England or something?  Is that 
how Mulder hurt his knee?"  Skinner's eyes narrowed, trying to 
pin down exactly what it was about them that appeared so damn 
different.  They were dressed as usual, Scully in a neat red suit, 
Mulder in a well-tailored blue suit, disgraced by one of his 
horrendous ties.  Scully's bright hair was bound professionally in 
a neat knot, Mulder's was sheared to bureau-standard length; and 
their expressions were calm.  Other than the apparent suntanning 
of their skin, there was nothing he could put his finger on, and yet 
he knew instinctively, that SOMETHING was different about 
them.
     "No, sir," Scully said blandly, eyes guileless, just as she 
had practiced.  "The only day we took off was yesterday, and we 
called in per protocol."
     "I only ask because Colonel Frost, the head of the 
Recovery Team from Hanscom Air Force Base in Bedford, 
Massachusetts, spent a day and a half up at that lab at MIT and 
never once saw you."  Skinner's gaze was piercing.
     "We were pursuing various lines of inquiry, sir.  We did 
speak extensively with Professor Neumann,"  responded Mulder.
     "Yes, I know, he mentioned it."
     "Have you been checking up on us, sir?" demanded 
Scully, nettled.
     Skinner gave them a long look.  "I had a question about 
something on Tuesday.  I was trying to get ahold of Mulder to 
get an answer, and couldn't.  In view of the fact that Mulder has a 
habit of disappearing from time to time on projects that have little 
to do with his assignments, I think I was justified in being 
concerned, Agent Scully."
     "It's all in the report, sir,"  Mulder said, passing him the 
file.  "I believe we spent much of Tuesday at the Chi Phi 
fraternity house, tracking down the group of pranksters that 
perpetrated this little stunt."  The report was a masterpiece of 
distraction and subterfuge and half-truths that had taken them 
hours to put together the previous afternoon.
     Skinner skimmed through the report, then closed it and 
gave them a fishy stare.  "So it's your opinion that this whole 
thing was a student prank then?"
     "Not opinion, sir,"  stated Scully.  "It's borne out by the 
facts as we have presented them in the report."
     "So I see," said Skinner, sounding rather dubious.
     "Is there anything else, sir?  Anything new come up 
while we were away?" asked Mulder.
     Skinner looked at him, still at a loss to explain the 
change in the agent's appearance.  Perhaps it was the way he held 
himself - but was he more relaxed, or more tensed, or even more 
confident? Unable to identify the difference, Skinner forced 
himself to concentrate on the discussion. "No, Agent Mulder.  I 
sent back a couple of reports to your office that need some more 
exposition.  Other than that, I don't have anything for you right 
now." He paused, appearing that he wanted to say something, or 
ask something.  Instead, he said,   "All right, you may go" and 
pressed his lips together in a disapproving line.
     They were almost out of the room when he said "Agent 
Scully?"
     The two of them froze, and slowly turned around.
     "Agent Scully, have you lost some weight or 
something?"  Skinner looked so puzzled
that she was hard-pressed not to laugh.
     "Yes, sir, a few pounds.  Thanks for noticing!" They 
turned and fled before Skinner could think of any more questions.  
     Leaning back in his chair, the Assistant Director stared 
at the closed door for a few long moments.  He had little doubt 
that he had just been lied to, but their story matched the official 
reports from the military recovery team.  Nonetheless, he knew 
those two agents well enough to know that something had 
happened - something they obviously weren't willing to talk 
about.  That fact, in and of itself, was enough to make him 
worried.  It was far more Mulder's style to shout the 'truth' from 
the rooftops, the more bizarre the better.  If MULDER unwilling 
to report it...Skinner sighed and, removing his glasses, rubbed his 
eyes...then he was quite certain he was better off not knowing. 
Not that he wouldn't keep a close eye on those two agents. But 
then again, he always did.
                         - - - - - 

     Entering their basement office, Scully tossed her coat 
and briefcase onto her chair and turned to face Mulder as he 
plopped himself down in his chair, leaning back to place his feet 
on the corner of the desk.
     "Do you think Skinner believed us?" she asked, pushing 
his feet aside to give herself space to perch on the edge of the 
desk.
     "No."  Mulder said bluntly.  "But he HAS to accept our 
report.  It matches the official story, and there's hardly anything 
objectionable in it."  They both grinned with amusement, it had 
been - deliberately - the most 'ordinary' field report they had ever 
written. 
     "I wonder what he would have said if we'd tried to tell 
him the truth?"  Mulder spoke pensively.   For all the pleasure he 
usually got out of being outrageous, this time he felt the need to 
keep their unusual experiences private, if only to protect their 
life-bond - and the friends they had left behind. 
     "He'd probably have had us both thrown into a rubber 
room," Scully replied with characteristic practicality.
     "Yeah," Mulder agreed.  "In straight jackets."  They 
shared a moment of silent laughter, then sat quietly.  Mulder let 
his eyes wander around the room, feeling much like he was 
slipping into an old, but very comfortable pair of shoes.  Much 
more than his apartment, this room really felt like home.  A smile 
flirted with the edges of his mouth as he glanced up at his favorite 
poster, the one of a flying saucer with the big bold slogan, "I 
want to believe." 
     "What is it?" Scully asked aloud, even as her mind 
reached out instinctively to brush the edge of his.
     "I'll miss our friends," he said, his smile widening into an 
engaging grin.  
     "But it really is good to be home."
                    
                         
                   -----------------

Epilogue
Two months later

     The late spring heat wave and the boats on the Charles 
were just two of the changes they noticed in their drive from the 
airport to the MIT campus.  But the stark, utilitarian complex 
where Neumann's lab was located looked no different than when 
they had last seen it two months earlier.
     Mulder took the steps two at a time, waiting impatiently 
for Scully to catch up.
     //I'm coming.  You really don't have to run, you know.//
     //I know, I'm just anxious to find out what's going on.//
     They found the prep room door without difficulty, and 
Dr. Mather answered their knock immediately.  No need for ID's 
this time, they solemnly exchanged handshakes and went into the 
lab, closing the door behind them.
     "When was the last time you saw him?"  asked Scully 
sympathetically.
     Dr. Mather smiled.  "The day before he left.  He 
preferred to have no one here when he went so he programmed 
the equipment in advance."
     Mulder and Scully exchanged long looks, and then he 
turned to Dr. Mather.  "The FBI was notified by the authorities at 
here at MIT that Professor Neumann had disappeared, and that it 
was possible that foul play was involved.  Are you saying that 
that isn't the case?"
     "That's exactly what I am saying, Mr. Mulder.  When 
was the last time you heard from him?"
     Mulder thought.  Ever since he and Scully had returned 
from the Realm, they had communicated regularly with Professor 
Neumann.  He frequently asked questions about the people and 
places of the Realm, and they would regale him with stories of 
their experiences, or painstakingly explain various facets of the 
culture.   They had even provided him with crude maps, and 
diagrams of the castle and the layout of their room.  The 
Professor was always eager and grateful for the information, and 
it was very cathartic for Mulder and Scully to be able to talk 
about the place they still missed so much with someone who was 
interested, understanding, and who didn't think they were crazy.
     "We exchanged e-mail about a week ago, and we spoke 
on the phone three or four days ago.  Why?"
     "He went through to the Realm, didn't he, Dr. Mather?"  
Scully said it quietly but with a sureness that Mulder had never 
known to be misplaced.
     She nodded.  "About a month ago he found the 
'directional factor' he had been looking for.  Well, he can 
probably tell you better than I."  She handed Mulder an envelope 
and went out to the prep room, closing the door behind her.
     Mulder turned the letter over in his hand. It was 
addressed to him and Scully in Neumann's tight scrawl. 
Exchanging concerned glances with her, he tore open the seal, 
pulled out the letter and began to read:

     Dear Mr. Mulder and Dr. Scully,

     "I've left instructions with Karen to give you this after 
I've left.  I'm sorry I couldn't share my plan with you.  I don't 
think I finally decided to do it until a couple of days ago, and then 
I was afraid you'd try to talk me out of it.
     The directional factor is a reality - on paper.  There's no 
way to test it without sending a human through the Vortex.  Ever 
since I first saw Tarnor, I've been obsessed by the prospect of 
visiting the place where such a creature could come from.  I can't 
describe how envious I was of you both when you returned from 
your adventures in the Realm.  And in a few moments, I shall 
begin my own adventure.
     I have kept my word.  All possible safeguards have been 
built into the system.  An aside that you may find interesting, 
even comforting - some of my experiments have shown time to 
be fluid (actually, 'gel' might be a more accurate expression).  
Based on this, I believe that the time factor you experienced, of 
thirty six realworld hours to approximately one Realm year, 
almost surely is not a constant.  Thus, in spite of the passage of 
time since your return, it is my belief that I will find your friends 
much as you left them.
     I wish there had been another way to do this without 
attracting the suspicions of some of the groups we would just as 
soon avoid.  When you receive this, Karen will begin to construct 
a very elaborate paper trail which should allay the fears for my 
wellbeing and any questions as to my whereabouts for several 
weeks to come.  She has also been instructed to provide you with 
whatever documentation you need for your reports.
     I'm bringing some gifts from our world, carefully chosen 
to avoid contaminating their culture.  When I return, we shall get 
together and I'll bring you news of your friends.  I shall give your 
love to Jourdain and Aldara, to Reinald and Andalor, and of 
course to Tarnor and Corvay, and tell them how much you miss 
them.   

     Wish me luck.

     Gunther Neumann



The End
-----------------------------------------------------------------------


THE PROPHECY:

Long past the years of Poor Harvest
When peace has returned to the Realm
And the People no longer cry out in Sorrow and Unrest
There will be a time of Great Plenty and Calm.
Cherish the Grace of the Land,
For when the moons have turned ten score and ten,
The End will be near to hand;
And Darkness awaits for the children.

Upon the Land a Dark Shadow will feast
Upon the hearts of men a sickness will lie.
Mothers will scream in the mouth of a beast. 
And their children will sicken and die.
And the fruit will rot on the branch, 
And the fields will run red with blood.
And the grain will wither upon the stalk.
And the waters will rise in a flood.

No man shall hold Kingship alone or in part.
Divided the Council shall stand.
Treachery will turn within a noble heart.
And sudden storms will sweep the land
Deep within the Great Woods the Beasts will roam.
No longer shall innocents call this their home.

Yet, even as the Dark takes hold upon the Realm
Deep, deep within the great woods,
>From that same source the evil floods,
The Travellers will come.

Travellers who seek the truth.
Travellers whose hearts are pure.
Travellers whose strength will bind the right.
And bring salvation to the light.

Mage to mage, the power draws.
Blue to Blue, together fight.
Brown and Green, the Healer's art
is found within a soldier's heart.

Mage of Realm and Mage Beyond
Join your powers in the night.
Woman, born to be a Mage's bond,
Soldier, Healer, lead the fight.

Night will fall before it's done
Shadow grow and death be strong
Only when the two are one.
Will the Dark be gone.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Text file Source (historic): geocities.com/area51/orion/5345/combos

geocities.com/area51/orion/5345
geocities.com/area51/orion
geocities.com/area51

(to report bad content: archivehelp @ gmail)