"Hey, Alain, keep it down to a slow gallop," Anna called out. The elf was setting a blistering pace. There had been no signs of pursuit since they had won free of the Dark patrols two days ago, but Alain continued to ride as if the furies of Hell snapped at her heels.

Reluctantly, Alain reigned in, eyes fixed on the horizon and their unseen destination. She's sure in one big tearing hurry to reach Stonehenge, thought Anna. I suppose I should be thankful she doesn't just fly off on her own. Anna looked around. The rest of the party, strung out over two hundred yards, was catching up. She allowed herself the luxury of a pleasant memory. Once, in the Nile Empire, the need for speed had been unusually dire, and Alain had pulled out all the stops on the spell she called 'Zephyr of Flight.' The results had been spectacular: The USAF in its wildest fantasies couldn't have flown faster or more nimbly. Fortunately, the Ayslish mages who designed the spell never observed high speed air dynamics, so, for them, the sound barrier didn't exist and Alain wasn't smeared like a bug on a windshield when she hit Mach 1. Anna smiled. Despite some truly desperate odds, that had turned into one of their most successful missions of the War. In concert with a major pan-Arab attack, the Storm Knights managed to smuggle a Core Earth reality bomb out of the Nile, then uproot the stela in the Nile delta. The armies of the Nile Empire for once found themselves on the wrong end of a sudden shift in reality. Three Battlegroups were smashed and an artificial sun and robo-sphinx destroyed in a decisive three day battle that raged all along the Red Sea. Our biggest victory in the War so far.

This mission might have as big a payoff. If they found Camelot. If they persuaded Arthur to help Core Earth. If wishes were fishes we'd all cast nets, she reminded herself. Still, it was nice to be acting instead of reacting for a change. But don't get ahead of yourself. Take it one step at a time. Now, how do I convince Alain of that?

Brenden and Shiro were heartily glad someone had gotten through to the obsessed elf. After three and a half days, each had negotiated an uneasy peace between buttocks and beast. Any upsets to this balance of power were unwelcome. Shiro muttered something about fragile horse legs.

"What was that?" Brenden's Japanese was pretty good, but Shiro had an odd accent. He hoped he had misheard. "Would you care to expand upon that point?" From anyone else, it could be laughed off, but Shiro did things. Not that Brenden thought the horses were in imminent danger, but one had to be careful.

"Nothing but a daydream." Did he really think I'd do something that stupid? Professionals should know better. "Still, it would be pleasant to be at ease when one sat. Perhaps I can sell horseback riding to MarSec as an interrogation technique. Or test it on them."

"Agreed," Brenden replied, dismissing the matter. If Shiro talked about it, he wasn't serious. Besides, Black's imprecations against tourists and sightseers were far more entertaining.

Meanwhile, the cause of all this struggled to master her impatience. With their short lives, how do they cope? There's so much to learn! Now I know why my teachers encouraged us to go into the world and explore. Not everything is gleaned from ancient parchments. In a mere five years, Alain had gone from apprenticeship to just shy of Master Magister status. She only lacked a single process theorem and the time to petition for admission to the Arcane Academies. There was a war going on, after all. She had even learned things undreamed of by the most powerful magisters in Aysle. The Orrorshan magic, Occult they called it, continued to present obstacles, but she persevered. She could do it, usually, but it was so undependable, so undisciplined. It was, however, powerful. Perhaps it never could be fully mastered, only channeled, like a raging river. It also just felt wrong. Magic shouldn't feel evil. Or perhaps not. There were so many unpleasant unknowns in Orrorsh. Then, too, there was also the Mathematics of the Nile Empire. Now, that was fascinating. As rigorous as her own Art, but very different. I wonder what sort of hornets' nest it will stir up when I finally manage to design a spell using Mathematics to encrypt the pattern. That will be a glorious day. The task at hand, however, was to track down Merlin. This, this too would be magnificent. She had so many questions; if Merlin was half the mage he was purported to be, Alain could gladly spend several decades at his feet. Unfortunately, there was a war and her duty lay with her friends and with Lady Ardinay's charge. One or two answers will have to suffice. But someday, someday there will be time for it all. . . Water wears away rock, she repeated to herself, water wears away rock. Perhaps only the oldest of elves had seen enough seasons to fully comprehend this dictum. Alain wrestled with her impatience, cast it down, and hoped another grain of sand had been worn away.

The careful thing, the prudent thing to do would have been to make camp before dusk and so come to Stonehenge rested and in such early morning light as the ever-present storm clouds begrudged them. Unfortunately, despite her best efforts, Alain could not contain herself and so the party debouched onto the Salisbury Plain in the gathering gloom of twilight.

Conn was on point as they rode within view. He reigned in his mount, and raised his left arm. "Our destination," he solemnly announced.

"You don't say," replied Anna drolly, racking the bolt on her H&K. "It could be a trap, folks." Great, now who's spouting the painfully obvious?

Brenden and Shiro had already dismounted. Any excuse to get out of the saddle was a good one. Colour Sergeant Black peered through field glasses. "I see nothing untoward, though yon cave looks to be a good spot for an ambuscade. We should circle left." The "cave" in question was the remains of the underpass that in happier times led from the parking lot, under the highway, and to the megalith. Disrepair and the axiom wash made it seem decidedly cave-like.

The group circled left as Black had suggested. Nothing charged down on them as they neared the stones. Nevertheless, when were a good stone's throw from the circle, Anna signaled for a halt. "So, who knows anything about divination?" she asked rhetorically as she swung to the ground. Alain dismounted and walked over to Anna. "Shall we begin?" she asked. Elf and human paced around the circle, looking for wards.

"Do you sense anything?" asked Conn.

"I'm afraid I can't grok this one," Anna laughed. She was out of her league here. It was like trying to discern the bulb filament in the spotlight shining on your face. "Yeah, there's something there, but damn it hurts to look!"

Alain gave a absent-minded chuckle as she continued divining. "There are so many magics here I can scarce keep track of them all. Some are weak with age, some are very alien, and a few are -- They once sacrificed folk here!" Alain staggered as if physically struck. With visible effort, she reknit her concentration and went on. "Terrible magics of potency when the gentler methods began to fail. Here is writ the sad story of the decline of magic in your world." After some time, Alain finished. Sweat ran down her drawn features. "I do not detect anything actively seeking us, but I know something is suppressing some of the magic here. For want of a better phrase, it feels like Conn's blade."

"Then we must find it," said Conn.

The search began. Black examined the lintel-like stones. If there is a portal to Avalon, might it not be a door? The oriental apparently thought the same, as he addressed himself to the vertical stones. In reality, Shiro had no idea what the others were doing and contented himself with figuring out where he would hide bugging equipment. He wasn't gullible enough to swallow all these tales of magic.

Conn searched the ground for spoor. He found something else instead. "The ground here has recently been turned over." He pointed to one of the inner stones, possibly one leg of an altar. Alain approached and squinted with concentration. She gave a tentative nod.

Together the two began to gently unearth the item. More by feel than sight, they determined it was some sort of amulet. Alain lifted it to get a better look, then wished she hadn't. She fumbled the amulet and yelled, "Put it back! Put it back now!" Conn, utterly taken aback by Alain's outburst, missed his grab and the amulet fell to ground. For two heartbeats, Conn just stared at Alain. Colour Sergeant Black took two strides forward, expertly snagged the chain of the medallion with his bayonet and flipped it back in the damp hole. Conn grabbed Alain's arms and began to haul her out of the ring of stones, away from possible danger, but the elf collected herself before he got more than a few paces. "No, Conn, there's no need. Now."

"What happened?" chorused Brenden, Anna, and Shiro, concerned.

No words came out on Alain's first try. She rallied and started again. The words gushed forth, unfortunately in the Elvish tongue that none from the outside world were ever permitted to learn. The others' concern grew to worry. After several seconds, she noticed their quizzical stares. On the third try, she managed coherent English. "Hellfire. Hellfire and bloody damnation. Yes, those are the words. I will have to thank Father Hardy for them." Relief washed over Anna; Alain didn't waste words in a crunch "I have learned several things. There is a pathway to another world here." Alain's voice came out well to the chilly side of icy.

"Well?" prompted Anna, puzzled.

"It leads to the place you refer to as the Unseelie Court, I believe. Yes, that is the name. Another time perhaps. But not today."

Conn and Anna blanched. Shiro feigned ignorance. "Shit," muttered Brenden. Colour Sergeant Black may not have understood the specifics, but it was obvious to him that the portal led to a place of evil and magic. That was enough. He clutched his cross and murmured a prayer to the Lord God of Battles Terrible in His Wrath.

Alain continued. "There is a ward sealing the portal. I did not sense it because it draws power from many of the other enchantments in the area, not directly from any normal source of power. It is a working of most subtle craft. Lifting the amulet weakened the ward, and dozens of other spells flared to higher life, threatening to burst the portal. This all struck me at once."

"Are we in danger now?" asked the Victorian NCO.

"The portal still strains, and there are bursts of power everywhere, but the ward seems to be re-establishing itself. I think energy from the portal is leaking through, re-energizing the many spells here, but the ward draws power from them and quickly re-asserts its dominance. Very, very clever. This must be the work of Merlin."

"No harm done, then?" asked Brenden hopefully.

"I do not know. I felt another ward trigger when the portal surged against its restraint. It was not keyed to us, and it remained hidden among all the other magics here. I missed it. I am sorry."

"None of us could have managed nearly so well," Conn offered sympathetically. "Do you know what the ward did?"

"Yes. Somewhere, someone knows of our attempt to breach Merlin's ward."

"I don't suppose, ha-ha, that it might be someone friendly to our cause?" asked Brenden sourly.

"It did not wing its way towards any stronghold of the Light."

Shiro remounted his horse without being asked. The party moved on. There would be no thought of making camp until they were miles away from this place. Sometime well after midnight they could go no further. As they stumbled about making the minimal effort required for bare safety, Brenden led his horse over to where Anna was tending her own. Anna tiredly gave Brenden's horse a once-over and pronounced Brenden's care adequate. "I thought maybe for once we'd catch a break. Nope, the regular SNAFU."

Brenden nodded jerkily. "FUBAR'd, just like normal."

Alain came around in time to catch this exchange and ask about these words, her curiosity insatiable.

"They're words of evil and potent magic," deadpanned Brenden, more than a little loopy with fatigue.

"Created by the Core Earth Master Magician Murphy," followed up Anna without hesitation.

Alain quirked an eyebrow and wandered off without a word. Sometime the next day she figured out they had been pulling her leg.

Nothing tried to kill them in the night. This agreeable lack of peril continued for three more uneventful days, brightening spirits darkened by their initial check. The sun made a rare appearance their fourth morning out from Stonehenge. Brenden was already somewhat chipper, having finally been able to assume something approximating a normal gait. Warm sunshine on his face made him break out into song. "Isle of Man, here we come," he warbled, "right back where we started from." Anna joined in with an untrained alto. As the two Core Earthers mangled the words and melody to "California Here I Come," the others stared at their apparently raving companions. This provoked laughter from the two would-be troubadours. It took a few minutes before order could be restored. Even then, after they had mounted up and rode north, Anna and Brenden would occasionally glance at one another and chuckle.

The mirth died on the following day. They entered a dark zone, a place where corruption blasted the land. The realm was gray, a thin, watery gray, like an idiot artisan's fumbling attempt at chiaroscuro. The few inhabitants they encountered were also washed out and gray. In the light zone around London, two years of continuous operation by field armies with medieval logistical support had thinned out the population through flight and impressment. Here, little grew and scarcely any of that was fit for human consumption. Famine had nearly depopulated the land. Where before they could avoid the local population with some effort, here finding even the rudest of hamlets was a daunting task. Brenden told stories to those few they encountered, trying to spark some life in them. First, among the widely scattered resistance communities inside the boundaries of the Living Land, then later among the good people of Cairo, Brenden had grown skilled in this craft. He had become an accomplished storyteller, gifted in languages and personally charismatic. On many occasions, he had been able to rekindle the sparks of life and resistance in the downtrodden. Here, though, his best efforts were for naught. Typically, the peasants approached hesitantly, listened politely, and left silently. Of what use were stories of great deeds in the far away Nile Empire when distended stomachs would not let his meager audiences stop worrying about the source of their next meal?

"We need tell of great feats of arms," Conn opined. "Glorious deeds of battle against the Dark."

"War's not always glory, Conn." An edge crept into Anna's voice. "It may be necessary, sometimes, but we can do better. Should be able to do better. You're right about the stories, though. Brenden, you make a fine bard, but we don't have anything to offer these people. Yet."

Brenden admitted defeat with a curt nod. One more hurt to be repaid on my world's foes.

That night it was Shiro's turn to cook. In keeping with the day's tenor, he burned the meal.

Around midmorning the next day, Anna heard Shiro murmur something in Japanese. As it was the first thing she'd heard him say since dawn, when they'd mounted up, she requested a translation. "The road to Cinnabar was lined with the burnt out wrecks of school buses."

"OK, where did that come from?" Whatever Anna had expected, that certainly wasn't it.

"An SF author had to come up with first lines for some writing class. He later wrote a book around that line. It seemed appropriate."

"How'd the book end?"

"Not badly, though he changed the line in it; weakened it, I'd say. Or maybe it was just the translation."

"I didn't know you were a sci-fi fan. Were you one, before?"

"No," Shiro lied. A 'yes' would peg him as a transformed Core Earther -- no science fiction in Marketplace. No reason to divulge personal information. With that, Shiro returned to scanning the horizon for enemies, and maybe a school bus.

Camp that evening was solemn. Alain and Conn sat away from the fire. Alain, more in tune with Ayslish warrior, had noticed his pensive mood and waited for him to let it out. The flickering shadows from the camp fire concealed his quiet burst of emotions from the others. "We cannot allow the Warrior of the Dark to win. If all Earth and Aysle becomes as this . . ." Anger, grief, or both choked off his sentence.

"Was your home?"

"Yes. We scrabbled the land for food. People fought for crumbs. My sister nearly died for a handful of turnips. My cousins did. This must not happen again."

The Colour Sergeant fed branches to the fire, the mechanical simplicity calming him. Toss. Burn. Toss. Burn. One did not grow inured to Gaea's Horrors, but one adapted as best one could. Sanity demanded it. God required it. Of course, some fared better than others. Duty and a stiff upper lip had served him well enough in the jungles of Indonesia and on the plains of Gaean Rhodesland. But this place was different. Despair such as this was new to him. The terrible landscape seemed to suck positive feelings from him, leaving only emptiness behind. Fear was nearly all-pervasive in Orrorsh, but there was always hope, if only for an untainted death and Mercy instead of Justice for a weak sinner in the world to come. "Focus," he inwardly repeated. "Focus. This can be changed. This will be changed. God willing, we will change it." It helped.

Sometime later, after the others had started to drift off, Anna heard footsteps and looked up from her notes to see Conn looking oddly at her. "Yes?"

"What are you doing? I have the watch."

"Before the War I was a pretty good ecologist. Maybe I can put it to some use here."

"You have spoken of this before. You were a sage and a scholar, this much I understand."

Anna put down her notes and concentrated on finding the right words. "I studied the way plants and animals live together. This place is out of balance. Maybe I can help."

"You have some powerful magic?"

"Knowledge. Sometimes the right knowledge can move mountains." Given where she was, she felt compelled to add, "Easier than with a spell. Maybe we can't beat this corruption, but we might finesse it."

"I do not follow."

"OK, crops don't grow well here, right? But some plants do better than others -- these trees are stunted, not dead. So, we grow tough plants. If people can't eat them, maybe goats can and then the people eat the goats. It might work, with proper controls. But we won't know if we don't try, and we can't try if we don't learn. So I'm learning."

Conn was by no means stupid, but Anna's train of thought was too far outside his experience to follow. Still, it was obvious Anna was trying to do something worthwhile. "May Dunad bless you in this."

On their third afternoon in the dark zone, the winds began to taste of salt and sea. "Most auspicious," Brenden noted. The others glanced quizzically at him. "And on the third day, He rose again from the dead."

After a moment, a brief smile passed across Anna's face. "A bit presumptuous perhaps, but we may hope," Anna conceded, and Black nodded an uncomfortable assent.

Shiro cleared his throat. "To quote another of your other thinkers, 'The Lord helps those who help themselves.' And there appears to be a thicket maybe a klick up the trail. I, for one, do not wish to be ambushed. Perhaps some of us should investigate."

His suggestion made sense. Anna considered her options. "Very well, you, Conn and I will investigate. The rest of you hold back.

"Milady," Black began.

"Shiro could hunt deer with a knife." Shiro grinned slightly. "If he knew what a deer was." The grin melted. "And Conn has eyes like a hawk, and an arm like some other overblown metaphor. Wait for us, or come running when you hear gunfire." Anna was learning the voice that brooked no debate; Montgomery Black knew an order when he heard one and saluted smartly.

The three set off into the thicket, Conn at point, Anna to the left, and Shiro somewhere to the right. For someone who claimed no experience with wilderness, he could certainly melt into it. After fewer than a hundred paces, Conn froze. Anna came over, and Shiro reappeared.

"Listen," Conn whispered. "Off to the left. It sounds like a child crying."

"What would a kid be doing out here?" asked Anna. "Not that I doubt you."

The trio crept closer. Ahead, as Conn predicted, a skinny girl, perhaps six, cried among the brambles. Her short brown dress was torn in several places. Scratches of dried blood etched her skin. Her plain child features were scrunched up and reddened beneath long blondish hair. Muddy rivulets traced from her bloodshot eyes down gaunt cheeks. Shiro flicked off his safety. Why take chances?

Conn stepped forward, making enough noise so it would not seem he was sneaking up on the girl. "What is wrong, little girl?" Conn rumbled. When not trying to kill people, Conn radiated benevolence. The warrior was excruciatingly good, and people instinctively knew it. The girl did not run. Meanwhile Anna wet a handkerchief and approached. The girl's eyes stayed fixed on Conn, so Anna began cleaning the girl's skinned knees.

Conn squatted down beside the girl and made soothing noises. Eventually, her story came out between sobs. "I'm Marsella. I saw goblins. They always come killing and burning. I ran to hide. Now I'm lost." She spoke English.

"Where do you live?" Anna asked patiently. "We'll take you home where you'll be safe from those goblins." I hope. Goblins are too craven to attack settlements unless someone or something big puts a whip to their backs.

"You will?" Wet eyes shone gratefully.

"Certainly," Shiro chimed in. If this is a setup, it's a damn good one.

They made their way back to the others, Marsella's hand wrapped around two of Conn's fingers. Shiro noticed with some satisfaction that Anna, too, seemed jumpy, as if half expecting trouble. Perhaps they're not hopelessly naive.

When the four emerged from the thicket, the others rode forward to meet them. "What have we here?" queried Brenden kindly. Anna led the girl to her horse, and lifted her into the saddle. She then mounted up in back.

"Marsella here escaped goblins. We're going to help her find her home." Fortunately, once on the trail, Marsella immediately began recognizing landmarks. Following the girl's increasingly confident directions, Anna urged her mare to a fast canter. Alain, Conn and Black followed suit, while Shiro and Brenden more-or-less kept up.

The hamlet was only a ten minute ride away. Much to Anna's relief, it appeared unharmed. Consequently, the Storm Knights reigned back their mounts to a quick walk. Dirty faces appeared sporadically in windows and doorways, disappearing when someone took more than a quick glance. The group rode along what passed for the main road, a dirt path wide enough for two carts.

"Where do your parents live?" Anna questioned the girl.

"Our house is that way." She pointed to a cluster of shacks. "But they're in the fields now," she added helpfully.

"Maybe a neighbor is home," Brenden offered, frowning at the villagers' fearful reaction to their arrival. When they first realized the village was intact, Brenden expected to see armed yeoman farmers with enough gumption to hold their land despite the worst these evil times could throw against them. He suspected this dispirited group survived only because no war party had yet noticed their existence. Six well-armed, well-fed, self-assured riders were an overawing presence here. It hurt to see the folk of the English countryside reduced to this, but Brenden put away his rage at the invaders for a more useful time.

The group dismounted when they reached the hovels. No one answered at the first door, but an older girl opened the door at the second.

"Y-y-yes sirs? What, I mean how may I be of service?"

Anna stepped forward, bringing Marsella. "We found her in the woods a few miles south of here. Could you make sure her parents get her?"

"Hi, Alba. They brought me home." Now safe, in Marsella's mind this was no longer a harrowing experience, but a Big Adventure. Getting to ride on a horse made it even more special. As a result, she was now all smiles.

Alba stared, then stammered assent. Marsella walked over to her, and hugged the older girl about the knees. That got Alba moving. "I pray you, kind strangers, wait while I fetch Marsella's parents," she said. Alba disentangled herself from the younger girl after a fierce hug and ran off towards the fields.

The village was a poor one; their hero's reward consisted of a bowl each of broth that may have known meat sometime that year and a barn with stale hay for a bed. With the gratitude of Marsella's family, it was enough.