ELFEN GOLD
Sheri L. McGathy

ISBN 1-58608-020-0
Rocket Edition 1-58608-192-6
Copyright  © 1999, Sheri L. McGathy
May 2000
New Concepts Publishing
4729 Humphreys Rd
Lake Park, GA 
http://www.newconceptspublishing.com

Prologue

	He emerged from the swirling mists and raised his eyes skyward; the pain mirrored within was raw and exposed...as vulnerable as their owner.
	Exhausted, he dropped down to his knees, sinking deep into the dew-sodden ground. Ignoring its clammy feel against his bare skin, he shouted, “Was it in vain?”
	The mists recoiled from his voice, pulling back and folding in upon itself.
	Digging his fingers through the wet earth, fighting the urge to surrender to hopelessness, he cried, “Promise me it was not!”
	A lonely wail was his only answer.

Chapter One
A Child is Born

	“Gather round, children, gather near. This tale nags at me to be told. If you tarry then you’ve only you to blame when you are confused. Come, come, do not dally! My old bones creak and moan their protests, begging me to begin.”
	Settling about him, their tiny faces eager, their eyes shining brightly with anticipation, they wait. They know he is about to begin yet another tale filled with beings which no longer roam the earth, and visit places only lived within one’s dreams. They lean in close as he begins his whispery dialogue. As one, they close their eyes, trying to capture the images as his voice draws them easily into another time.
	“And so,” he proclaimed, “it begins...”

	...Ar-Ion paced back and forth within the Great Hall, each step echoing loudly into the deafening silence. His thoughts were clouded. His fears -- rampant.
	Wringing his hands, he turned and paced the length of the hall yet again. He dare not stop to allow his mind free reign. It was either pace or stand about like an ancient artifact which had long since outlived all usefulness...and so he paced.
	He heard the soft swish of the inner doors as they swung open and looked up expectantly. A Court Herald stepped into view, and with a sharp snap of his heels, said, “My Lord, I beg of you to forgive this intrusion, it is only that Captain Ra-Nu wishes an audience.”
	Ar-Ion nodded his head slightly but added, his voice hard, “Ra-Nu is to be the only one I shall see this eve. I will tolerate no more intrusions. None save for news of my mate.”
	“Aye, my Lord.”
	“Now, leave me, and forget not my wishes.”
	With a backward wave of his hand, Ar-Ion returned to his pacing. Stepping into the hall, Ra-Nu stood forgotten inside the door portal. He noted the worried frown marring Ar-Ion’s youthful face...aging it. He wondered if this was perhaps how Ar-Ion would appear in 200 phasings or more.
	Both their mothers hailed from the Forest Bands. Ar-Ion’s mother, Sal-May, had brought Ra-Nu’s mother as her personal maid when she had bonded to Ar-Ion’s father, Ra-Ree. Given life first, Ra-Nu was a natural choice to become Ar-Ion’s companion and personal guardian. They had been nearly inseparable in their youth and, even now, managed to maintain the strong bond forged so many phasings past.
	King Ar-Hur, Ar-Ion’s grandfather, had ruled then. Ra-Ree was to have been the next Ruler of the Elfen nation of Ra-Jee but instead had died young. King Ar-Hur, it was rumored, became dispirited and had sunk into a deep depression. Soon after he had turned his reign over to a very young Ar-Ion...and then one cycle, King Ar-Hur had simply ceased to be.
	Ra-Nu had been too young then to understand and still did not know exactly what had happened. He had sensed a great sadness in the land, a sadness shadowing it ever since. Everything seemed in harmony, but there was no great spiritual uplifting within the hearts of his fellow Elves. Peace ran through the Valley but without the true contentment which should have gone hand-in-hand with it.
	That had been many phasings gone now. Sometimes Ra-Nu felt as if the Royal House was under a curse. He contemplated the birth that was, even now, struggling to take place. Would this child mean an end to the curse or a new facade to a dark family secret? He wished he knew.
	Was he about to welcome a new life into the world who would ultimately usher in the end to the existence he now knew? He shook his head, ‘Such nonsense.’
	As if suddenly realizing his presence, Ar-Ion’s voice broke the uneasy silence that filled the chamber. “My dear friend, always near when my heart aches. Come,” he added, motioning Ra-Nu forward with one slender pale hand. “Help me chase the demons from my mind.”
	The empty void of the unknown loomed within his vacant stare, its presence a cold unwelcome embrace.
	“I have come, my friend, as I always will, to ease your pain and give you what strength I possess.”
	Ar-Ion offered him a weak smile. Stepping near, they embraced.
	“Come, sit,” Ar-Ion insisted, before taking a seat himself.
	“How does the Queen fair?” Ra-Nu asked, taking a place across from Ar-Ion’s tense form.
	“It has been so very long, Ra-Nu, with the pain exceedingly hard and constant. My Mi-Ra grows weaker with each passing of the ancient hour.”
	His eyes remained haunted as he locked them to Ra-Nu’s own blue orbs. A moan escaped his parted lips, and he cried out, “I hear her screams echo down the halls and I feel the pain, here in my soul,” he said, punctuating the statement by pounding his fist forcefully upon his chest. “I am King of all Ra-Jee, yet I am powerless to aid her.”
	Clutching his chest, he stood and walked away. The silence hung heavily within the Great Hall while Ar-Ion battled his private demons. Then softly, his voice a mere whisper, he admitted, “It chills me to the very bone.”
	Ra-Nu remained silent, sensing Ar-Ion did not really expect an answer.
	“I fear for the lives of them both. I know to lose one would mean the life of the other,” Ar-Ion admitted.
	He threw himself down upon the soft pillows of a nearby chair to land in a pitiful heap. Turning his head, he confronted Ra-Nu squarely, “Tell me, while I am the Ruler of all Ra-Jee, and therefore the chosen holder of the true magic, why can I do nothing to aid her?”
	Tears coursed freely down pale cheeks, staining his silk collar as he buried his face deep within trembling hands. “I am unable to stand the wait a moment longer but know that I must.”
	Through his sobs, he confessed, “I cannot stop my fear of living if Mi-Ra should die. Is this any way for a King to behave?”
	Ra-Nu rose, and with long strides, quickly covered the space separating them. Draping his huge arm across Ar-Ion’s shoulder, he offered, “You are a ruler with great power, my friend, but alas, you also love very deeply. Because you care, sometimes when others hurt, you feel their pain as if it were your own,” Ra-Nu stated. Then he asked, “Have you thought to use the Amulet?”
	“Aye,” came Ar-Ion’s whispered reply. “It was my first thought. Yet it remains a futile hope. The act could prove not one of mercy, but one of destruction. The magic could worsen the pain, or seek to end it...with death. I can call it forth, but I cannot control the outcome. I would summon it in an instant if I could be sure it would aid.”
	Rising, he tucked his arms behind his back and added, “And so, Ra-Nu, I am reduced to nothing more than a frightened walker of haunted halls. The pain worsens, even as we speak, for I feel it deep within my soul.” Stiffening his shoulders, he turned from his friend and walked away, within the span of a heartbeat, he had resumed his vigil.
	“All will be well, Ar-Ion. Mi-Ra and the babe will be fine. You will see my words are true. Sometimes life takes a long time to come, which makes it all the more precious.”
	“Aye, forever wise, old friend. I am, as always, relieved that you have come, for you ease my burdened soul. Come, let us face this cycle of darkness together, just as we did in our youth.”
	They talked well into the Second cycle. Sometime before the start of First, Ar-Ion slipped into an uneasy slumber. Ra-Nu stood and stretched his long legs, feeling the muscles complain as he forced them into use again.
	He walked out onto a balcony that encircled the entire Keep, its white marble railing casting a floating, ghostly ring upon the prevailing blackness of the night sky. He ran his palm along its flawless beauty, comforted by the feel of its cool, smooth surface.
	The Keep had been built by what his Race called the Ancients...a Band of Elf whose demise occurred so long ago that his people knew little about them. He often pondered what had happened to them. He shrugged, having no answers. They were no more, just like King Ar-Hur, they were all simply gone.
	Their ways remained mysterious. There were hordes of Wise Ones still trying to unravel the puzzles they had left behind. These puzzles, great tombs of written riddles, were stored in chambers far beneath the city. The key to understanding them locked within the now faded words scrawled across the dry, brittle pages they left behind.
	Directly across from these libraries was the Chamber of the Gold, the home of a clear crystal near the size of a horse, and mounted upon a marble stand as white as the railing he leaned upon. Once its core pulsed with pure power, but now it was little more than a silent sentinel to the knowledge buried beyond. Its once strong flame reduced to a mere spark glowing within the Amulet of Ra-Jee that hung around Ar-Ion’s neck. And he feared that even that small spark was dying. He believed it would soon grow lifeless, returning to memories and dust, much like the Ancients.
	The Crystal’s death would leave many mysteries unsolved. He doubted very much if Ar-Ion would know any of the answers. He was a good and faithful ruler, but he had never bothered to study anything concerning the Ancients. He shook his head, already grieving the loss.
	Ra-Nu glanced up at the sky. The rays of the moon reached out to caress the land with its long, silvery fingers while a gentle breeze sang softly across the fields, its cool light brushing gently across his fevered skin. All the land stood bathed in the twilight hour.
	He knew this was not going to be an easy birthing for his Queen. The ‘Season of the Gold’ had returned. It was said very few could bring forth life and still manage to hold on to their own during this time. Magic was not an understood touch, it burned as it passed, and the helpless soul had no defenses to ward against such a searing caress.
	The ‘Season of the Gold’ was suppose to be a time of deep, ancient magic, with few belonging. Those few who survived, seemed bound by the magic, answering only to the Crystal...bound in ways Ra-Nu did not understand.
	Great Rulers had been born into this Season: Elfen males of great courage and strength, rumored to possess soul magic so powerful they could have destroyed their Race with one mighty pass of their hand. Yet, the ‘Gold’ never permitted the dark of heart into its fold. Its bright lights encircled and bathed only the worthiest of the Race. Therefore, ‘Children of the Gold’ held much compassion for their fellow beings, their strength used to protect the Race.
	Ra-Nu had only read about these beings, for there had not been a child born into the ‘Gold’ in countless phasings.
	Unlike Ar-Ion, Ra-Nu thought it important to know something about his people’s past. It had been his wish to better understand the things around him -- become one with all he shared his world with. So, he had studied what few translated Charters were available. He had learned well the warnings of the ‘Gold’.
	‘Aye,’ he thought. ‘I could tell Ar-Ion his greatest fears could be true.’
	He sighed. The wheel has spun full circle. A ‘Child of the Gold’ was struggling to be born. This child would probably die, along with his Queen, Ar-Ion’s true love, and in the knowing, Ar-Ion himself. The Crystal was dying. There was no need for a magical champion. No wars loomed on the horizon. No evil lurked in the shadows. The harmony was within the land, and all was as it should be.
	Back in the deepest recesses of his mind, doubt plagued him. Yet, it was entirely possible that the Queen could hold out long enough and miss the time of the ‘Gold’. If this happened then the child would be born ordinary. Nothing more than a new addition to Ar-Ion’s little family.
	“Aye, that is what I shall hope,” Ra-Nu whispered, mentally burying his worries.
	A warm sensation crossed his fingers, and he looked up with a start. The new cycle was coming. The sun was peeking slyly up over the hills that surrounded the Valley, coating the Kingdom in a golden blanket of cheer, and wrapping Ra-Jee in its warm embrace. The Elfen Race lay huddled within their homes, unaware of the events transpiring within the Keep. All about him hung the mantle of peace and tranquility.
	A tiny cry rang out to disrupt the calm that had enveloped the land, shattering the stillness of the coming cycle.
	Ar-Ion was awake and in motion, reacting to the sounds with long, quick strides toward the inner doors. Ra-Nu hastened along to close the rear.
	The Queen’s maid practically fell over them when she pushed open the doors.
	“Oh dear, my Lord. Oh my! Please excuse me. I, I...I was in such a hurry, I...” she stammered as she sank down awkwardly to her knees.
	Ar-Ion yanked the young Elf to her feet and pinned her with his piercing blue eyes.
	“The Queen? How does she fare?”
	His anxiety only caused the pale little maid to become more tongue-tied.
	“I must know now! To the darkness with your manners!” he shouted.
	“Oh my, oh...” she stammered as she tried to tuck a stray lock of hair back in place. Taking a shaky breath, she managed to reply, “The Queen fairs well, my Lord. Aye, oh but she truly does. And the babe,” she sighed, “‘Tis quite well, too!”
	The King stood silent, staring down at her with eyes open wide, and his mouth frozen in a silent ‘O’. As the truth wormed its way into his fevered mind, he turned and bolted from the room, nearly tossing the maid to the floor in his haste. He soon disappeared down the long corridor.
	Ra-Nu lingered behind. He turned to the young maid. ‘Now what was her name?’ he thought. ‘Aye, I have it,’ always making a point of remembering the comely ones.
	“Could you answer a question for me, Sin-Ca?”
	“Aye, t’would be a pleasure,” she replied with a smart curtsy.
	“Truthfully now, how does the Queen fare?”
	“Oh, the poor dear. She suffered long, ‘tis the truth. I did not think she would survive the pain. Ah, but thank the Ancients, she is stronger than she appears. As soon as the moon ducked its pocked face down below the hills and the sun swaggered out to embrace the land, the babe arrived. It seemed as if the young heir was only waiting to enter the world by the light of a new cycle. There will be no darkness for that one.”
	“Oh, and you should see how happy the Queen is with that golden-haired beauty in her arms. The King will be beside himself with joy,” she cooed.
	“The Queen and our new Prince are both well? You saw nothing wrong in any way?” Ra-Nu nervously began his true course of questioning.
	“Except...” she hesitated, “the prince, might, I suppose, seem a bit strange to you!”
	A faint twinge nagged at his gut, pulling his insides tight, while ice daggers sliced through him. Outwardly, he managed to appear calm and composed.
	“Whatever could you mean, my sweet Sin-Ca? How different could he be? Is he marred or deformed in some hideous manner?”
	Sin-Ca smiled at her handsome questioner, the tips of her mouth tilting upward slightly as she swirled her skirts in a flirtatious way, “Well, maybe marred to your way of thinking.”
	Ra-Nu cocked a brow in question, and she laughed. “You big oaf, the prince, is a princess!”
	Her reply came mingled with further laughter. He, in turn, could do nothing but stand in the hall staring at Sin-Ca with his mouth hanging agape.
	“Ra-Nu, be at peace. She is a rare beauty. A golden-haired darling with the loveliest eyes to match. I have never seen the likes of those eyes. My, but will the King not be pleased?” she winked, a whimsical sigh escaping between her plump, pink lips.
	“I really must be off,” she said, giving him one last long appraisal, and an inviting flip of her skirts. Sighing again, she added, “The Ancients blessing on you, Ra-Nu.”
 	Then she turned and rushed off in the direction that Ar-Ion had fled not so very long ago.
	“A girl,” Ra-Nu mused, giving no notice to Sin-Ca’s suggestive behavior, completely absorbed in this new twist to an old legend surrounding a child born into the ‘Gold’. “A girl? It seems I may have been a bit silly with my fears. She is definitely a ‘Child of the Gold’, her eyes tell me that, yet I do not think she is a ‘Herald of Doom’. Mayhap she is a pledge to the continuation of peace and harmony upon the land.”
	There had never been a female born to the ‘Gold’...females were not warriors! He had never met one, and he had spent most of his life meeting them. It was one of his hobbies and a delightful one at that. So far, he had met with no female warriors, nor with any complaints. So it seemed that he could lay his fears to rest. ‘Mayhap,’ his weary mind contradicted.
	Something buried within his memories begged to be recognized, but he could not name it. He would have to consult the Charters, try to sort it out before he dared to voice any doubts to Ar-Ion. It was far wiser to think a thing through, have a little patience, and be sure of his facts before his fears labeled him a fool.
	He turned and headed down the corridor after Sin-Ca. He wanted to get his first glance at this golden beauty, the Royal Princess, the child who lately had been a great source of his fears.
	Away from the Great Hall he strode, every inch of him the mighty warrior, his strong strides carrying him quickly toward the Queen’s chambers...”

	“...Yes, children, he was taking his first step in a long anticipated journey...Ra-Nu the Warrior and the golden Princess of Ra-Jee,” whispered the Storyteller. “It was time for the two of them to meet!”

Chapter Two
It Begins

	The cycle dawned warm. The simple azure of the sky providing a cheery blanket over the land, lending a welcome air to the festivities.
	Ra-Nu wandered aimlessly through the growing crowd. Noting its size, he thought perhaps every Band in the Kingdom had traveled to Ar-Ion’s Palace to pay tribute to Ra-May, their new Princess.
	‘A good name,’ he agreed. She had been named in traditional Elfen fashion. The first part of her name in memory of her grandfather, Ra-Ree, while the second part for Sal-May, her grandmother. Hence forth, she would carry the names of her family as a badge of respect, never forgetting from which branch she grew. Thus, the roots of the bloodline would continue to be strong for future generations. The custom of honoring the past would be satisfied once again.
	Five runs of the moon had come and gone since Ra-May came screaming into her new world. Ar-Ion had delayed her Birthing Ceremony, which went against custom, to give his mate and tiny daughter time to regain their strength. He had stubbornly refused to hear any arguments against his decision, swearing that his family would have their chance to recover first.
	Ar-Ion was not a strong ruler, but he was a kind and loving one. He was very different from many of Ra-Jee’s former kings, for he let his heart tip the scale toward compassion every time. Ra-Nu had been full of pride by his decision and had stood by him through all the arguments against it.
	Now the appointed cycle had arrived, and it held the promise of being beautiful. With the sun shining bright and warm, and the air filled with sweet scents wafting in on the gentle breezes, it was hard to imagine a more perfect setting for a celebration. The aroma of newly blossomed flowers filled the walkways and served as a stimulate, boosting the crowd’s spirits.
	A steady stream of Elves had been pouring into the city all of First cycle. The air was thick with hearty greetings and joyish cries as someone stumbled into another not seen in countless phasings...all glad for the occasion to see, once again, old friends and long separated family members.
	All appeared peaceful, but one never knew when trouble would arrive. For that reason alone, he kept his Warriors scattered throughout the area.
	Gazing out over the sea of heads, he was reminded again of how short in stature the other Bands were. He was able to look in all directions without a single head obstructing his view. Among his own, he was considered tall, but he had never towered over them as he did now, standing among the other Bands.
	His height seemed natural within the Palace Keep. The King’s descendants were all from a mixture of the Forest and Water Bands. Both Bands producing the taller Elves of Ra-Jee.
	Satisfied, he left the watch and threaded his way through the milling throngs toward the Palace Keep. He had not gone far before he began to feel as if someone watched his every move. He swore he could almost feel the heat of another’s stare. The unsettling perception worked its way into his senses and would not be banished.
	He pivoted slowly, scanning the crowd with keen eyes, but saw nothing out of place. All appeared as it should be.
	Elves of various Bands lounged about, or stood in small groups, greeting relatives and friends. He saw Helpers weaving expertly through the crowds, and children playing with utter abandonment on the well-kept lawns, but he saw no danger. He moved on.
	He began to wonder if he was just being overly edgy, what with the Valley filled to its limit with all manner of Elf coming to pay homage. He allowed his unease to be explained away and turned back on course, once again making his way toward the Keep.
	He walked parallel with the west wall surrounding the Keep, knowing the long, white barrier would eventually lead him to Ar-Ion’s private entrance. He kept his pace slow, choosing to linger within its cool confines for as long as possible, the deep shade calming recently frayed nerves.
	He should report to Ar-Ion what he had felt while walking the crowds, but how to explain the oddness? And did he even really want to try? He was unsure anymore as to what he had felt and wondered now if he had been just jumping at shadows. All too soon, the private entrance came into view.
	Reluctantly, he left the shade and entered the Palace. He found Ar-Ion sitting alone in the Great Hall, his head bent over an enormous Charter, his blonde locks falling forward, obscuring his face.
	The room was immersed in shadows. He could see dislodged dust swirling in the limited beams of light that had been permitted entry. Beside Ar-Ion stood the remains of a well-used candle.
	Ra-Nu cleared his throat.
	Looking up, Ar-Ion’s expression was a cross between surprise and guilt.
	“Ra-Nu, please enter,” he invited, his smile as warm as his words. “Come in, sit. Tell me, how go the preparations? Tell me everything!” he sang. “It is a glorious cycle, do you not agree?”
	Ra-Nu could only nod.
	“We have time to talk before the ceremony begins. Ra-May still naps and Mi-Ra searches, in vain, to find just the right cloth to wrap our little jewel in. Ha, my sweet Mi-Ra always worries about what is, or what is not, proper.”
	Ra-Nu had to laugh in spite of a restless mood.
	“Sit, sit, please, Ra-Nu. Join me and share my good fortune.”
	Ar-Ion waved his hand to indicate the empty chair opposite his own.
	Ra-Nu sat down with a sigh.
	“My friend, whatever has you so morose? This cycle you are to be honored. Does this displease you in some way?” Ar-Ion asked in earnest, visibly holding his breath as he awaited Ra-Nu’s answer.
	Ra-Nu stared at his King in what amounted to a mixture of concern and chagrin. “Nay, I am deeply moved to have been chosen as Princess Ra-May’s protector,” the Warrior stated openly. “I thank you, Ar-Ion, for the honor. I, I...”
	Ar-Ion held his hand up for silence. “Ra-Nu, I expect no thanks, only that my daughter be kept safe. But...” he paused to study his face, “there is something, I sense, worrying you!”
	“It is nothing really. Nothing more than an odd sensation I felt while walking the crowds,” Ra-Nu admitted, finally acknowledging his edginess.
	“How so?” Ar-Ion asked. Leaning his chin upon enfolded fingers, he calmly waited for him to continue.
	“Only that...just odd! I felt watched, and at times as if I were being followed.”
	“And did you investigate?” his King asked.
	“Aye, but I found nothing. I think it only nerves,” Ra-Nu admitted, still unsure how to describe the sensations he had felt.
	Ar-Ion smiled. “I think, mayhap, you are right. You are a bundle of nerves, and have every right to be. After all,” he laughed, rising to gently slap Ra-Nu upon his shoulder, “is it every cycle that you are honored so highly in front of all the Bands?”
	“True,” Ra-Nu agreed. “I suppose you are right. I do hope that I am found worthy of this honor.”
	“You shall be,” Ar-Ion laughed. Then his tone grew serious, “Which leads me toward another honor I wish to bestow upon you.”
	“Nay, no more, Ar-Ion. I fear I cannot stand further praise.”
	Chuckling, he ignored Ra-Nu’s protests and continued on, “Do not ever doubt your worth to me. Now, for my favor, for it is a favor, not an order. You do understand this?”
	Ra-Nu bowed his head in answer.
	“Ah, good, very good,” Ar-Ion smiled. Rubbing his hands together, he continued. “My friend, what I want is for you to be more than my child’s protector. I want you to be her eyes and heart. All this until she is old enough to be these things for herself. I want you to raise her as if she were your own in the event that something should happen to me.”
	“Ar-Ion, nothing is going to happen to you! I will see to that,” Ra-Nu sputtered. “Besides, I do not know how to handle children! In truth, they do not like me! In fact, I believe that they fear me!”
	“Oh, Ra-Nu,” Ar-Ion chuckled at the exasperation written on his friend’s strong features, “I did not mean that I was going to up and vanish this very moment. I am not my grandfather. I just want Ra-May with one I can trust in the event that something should happen to me.”
	“But,” Ra-Nu insisted, “Mi-Ra, or your mother, Sal-May, would raise her. The Royal Family would never allow an outsider to raise a Royal child. You know this, Ar-Ion. I cannot, or would not, be allowed the honor. In the event that something did happen to you, the child would be swept away inside the Keep, guarded heavy against any and all.”
	“Aye, it is right that you should think this, for it is how I was raised. This could happen, but only if Mother thought she could get away with it. She cannot, for I shall decree it into law. Once my seal is placed upon it, no one can change my wishes. None would dare interfere.”
	“Do you not see, Ra-Nu?” he asked. “You are my choice. It is my right as King. I do not wish for Ra-May to be raised as I was. I do not want her to grow to be afraid of her own shadow! I want her to commune with nature, to be able to walk, unafraid, into the dark. With your help, she will be able to hold her head high. I know what she is capable of becoming,” he stated, patting the heavy Charter that lay on the table before him. “I know she may, one cycle, know the Crystal’s embrace.”
	Ra-Nu’s eyes followed the motion, coming to rest upon its title, unable to keep his features from registering his surprise.
	Ar-Ion did not seem to notice as he continued, “That is ‘if’ she has the proper teacher to show her the true path.” He turned his face away and whispered, “Aye, Ra-Nu, I read the ‘Chronicles of the Gold’; I know I have once again looked upon the face of one of the Gold’s children.”
	Ar-Ion studied his friend’s face. “But there is a condition, Ra-Nu. I want you to know this before you answer. It would not begin on the cycle that I cease to be, nay, but now, even before she is able to utter her first words. I will expect this if you agree to my request...she would then spend all the free time we could spare, with you. You will take her to the forest, teaching all that you know. The things that I now admire in you, I will soon see in my daughter, and admire them anew! You must teach her to be caring, yet, unlike myself, who has always lived in fear, you will teach her to walk unafraid, one with her world and with her Race!”
	Ra-Nu’s emotions were once again reeling. What a cycle for the senses to be toppled. Standing, he offered his hand. “I do not need time to think, I have made my choice. I will accept this honor. If the time ever comes that I must honor it to its full extent, then I shall not let you or Ra-Jee down. I just pray by the light that the time never dawns. For if it does, then I have genuinely lost the part of me that makes me whole.”
	“Aye, this is good. You have blessed my household by accepting. I shall decree it into law this very cycle. Let all the land know of my trust and faith in you.”
	He then aimed Ra-Nu toward the door and said, “I believe that we should both go and make ourselves ready. Ra-May cannot sleep forever, now can she?”
	They walked out of the Great Hall, side-by-side, with Ra-Nu silently reflecting on what had just transpired, his earlier unease gone, replaced now by an even stranger sensation.
	As they walked down the carpeted corridors, reality crashed heedlessly into their thoughts, and their solitude was completely and fully stolen from them. What they had just shared as friends must be put aside as position surfaced. They were once again, Ar-Ion, the King of Ra-Jee, and Ra-Nu, the Royal Captain of the Guards.

Chapter Three
A World Shattered

	The Palace had been seized! It was deeply entangled within the clutches of frenzied activities. Each Elf within had been placed into service in order to provide enough fare for the celebration.
	The large amounts of food  being prepared caused fresh fragrances of sweet delights to drift down the corridor. The rich aromas made Ra-Nu forget that he had just recently eaten. He thought of all the wondrous concoctions that awaited his inspection, and his grin widened. Maybe it was time that he took himself off to the kitchens for an inspection. He was, after all, Captain of the Guards and Protector to the King!
	“I shall see you at the celebration, my Lord,” Ra-Nu stated, bowing respectfully to Ar-Ion. “I go now in search of a new and entertaining adventure.”
	Ar-Ion laughed, waving him onward. “Stand hard, my friend, for Cook is a worthy opponent.”
	As Ra-Nu hastened toward the kitchens, Ar-Ion turned and made his way toward his private compartments. It was time to check on his family. Soon it would be time for Ra-Jee to welcome Ra-May into its care. His hand absently stroked the great jewel that always hung about his neck. His thoughts were elsewhere, or he would have noticed its golden glow.
	Upon reaching the kitchen level, Ra-Nu’s mouth began to water. ‘Here, indeed, was a true paradise.’
	Everyone within was busy creating some wonderful concoction, each trying to outdo the other in their perfection.
	Ra-Nu wandered from table to glorious table, tasting whatever caught his fancy. Here, laid seductively before him, was a mouth-watering roast. He cut himself a hunk. Popping it into his mouth, he moaned as its flavor deluged his senses.
	There, on a nearby shelf, sat an enchanting concoction of spun sugar. He tracked a finger lightly along a bowl filled with the same spun wonder and quickly popped the gooey mass of glistening splendor into his mouth, finding himself blissfully seduced as the sweetness passed over his tongue.
	He moaned.
	It did not take long before the Head Cook noticed the intrusion into his domain. Quickly, and quite rudely, Ra-Nu had thought, the Elf pushed him from the area, and out into the bailey.
	‘Just my luck,’ Ra-Nu thought, ‘no more samples.’
	Knowing he would have to wait for the celebration, he sighed. He would wait, albeit reluctantly.
	He heard the tolls from the lake bells ring out to all within Ra-Jee, the gentle peal singing of the celebration that was about to begin.
	First, there was to be entertainment provided by the various Bands, each having prepared something special to be performed. Ra-Nu could only imagine what enchanting feats the Bands of Air would perform. They possessed a grace well beyond the other Bands and watching them was a sensual delight.
	Then it would be time for the King to present his daughter to his Subjects, and finally, the best -- they would be invited to eat.
	Before the feasting began in earnest, the King would retire his young daughter, while motioning for the Bands to dance, dine, and enjoy.
	The celebration would then last well into the second cycle. Many would still be standing to greet the new one. Ra-Nu could barely contain himself. The maidens would be waiting, and he intended to make himself available to any and all that would accept his attention. And accept they would. He was considered a charmer in his own right. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
	He moved further into the bailey and made his way to his own chambers. If he was to be presented in front of all of Ra-Jee, then he wanted to be sure his attire fit the occasion. Full Warrior regalia was what was called for, and he was never one to disappoint.
	Ra-Nu arrived at the meeting grounds just before the presenting ceremony was to begin. The dais lay in wait for the principle players. The Bands mulled around the fair grounds in restless anticipation, awaiting their King’s presence.
	Ra-Nu stood proudly with his own Band, his attire befitting the occasion. The leather of his tunic, brown to represent the foliage of the forest, was polished to a high shine. His Band colors were intertwined with the Royal blue of Ar-Ion’s Band: green for growth, and blue to feed that growth.
	His bow and sword were slung across his back with great attention given to the angle, and his arm bands winked brightly as the sun reached down and kissed the polished metal.
	His Band had a spot reserved at the front of the crowds, just below the dais. This was a position of honor. Mi-Ra was of his Band, the Forest Elves, so they received the recognition due them.
	Looking fondly upon his Band, he pulled his shoulders back and puffed his chest forward. His Warrior colors becoming an even greater source of symbolism to him...the mixture through the ages of the Forest Bands with that of the Water Bands. Water fed the forest and promised it continual growth. This mixture was good. All one had to do was look to the Royal Family for proof.
	He let his eyes dart lightly through the Bands, smiling as he would look upon one that he knew. He found that he smiled a lot. He knew them all - all except for one rather tall Elf standing alone on the edge of his Band’s perimeter, near the start of the Water Bands.
	He was plainly dressed, with no adornment to be seen, nor did he display any identifying Band colors. His head was covered from the tip of his nose downwards with what looked to be a cloth made of silk. Ra-Nu wondered if the Elf had an affliction that he felt would be too hideous for others to look upon. Or was it that the Elf could not tolerate the sun? He carried no weapons that Ra-Nu could see, and the way his shoulders sagged, it seemed that he was old -- very old, if his frame had begun to bow...‘Or was he deformed in stance?’ he thought.
	Despite all the outward oddities, there was something in this stranger’s being that sparked recognition. He was too tall, even with his height stunted by stooped shoulders, to be a member of the other Bands, which meant that he either belonged to Ra-Nu’s own or to the Water Bands.
	Ra-Nu frowned. He knew the Water Elves nearly as well as his own Band. The puzzle’s solution was elusive and kept his mind working overtime.
	Moving toward the Elf, intent on questioning him personally, he pushed his way through the crowds until he was but a few feet from his objective.
	The stranger stood apart from the others, alone among the many. Ra-Nu thought he looked harmless enough but knew he would still speak with him.
	At that moment the King made his way onto the dais. The crowd fell silent. Behind Ar-Ion trailed his Queen, Mi-Ra, with the handmaid, Sin-Ca, carrying her Royal charge, the Princess Ra-May.
	The silence turned to a flutter as the crowd bowed in unison.
	Ar-Ion’s breath caught in his throat as he looked out over the crowd. Feeling pressure upon his arm, he looked down into Mi-Ra’s warm smile. Nodding toward the crowd, he whispered, “It is heartening to know so many come to honor our family.”
	She squeezed his arm before stepping back to leave him standing apart on a dias carved from pure gold. It twinkled merrily in the afternoon sun, standing as a symbol of Elfen heritage. The carvings that served as its surface were formed in the Crystal’s honor, showing all the glory of another time.
	Contained within its many pictures was the tale of the ‘Great Circle of Life’, from birth to the final embrace of death. Some suggested that it held predictions of the future, but none now could accurately interpret the images. All knowledge lost to them. All answers locked within the hazy past.
	Delicate streamers of braided silk had been hung decoratively from nearby trees, casting a rainbow of color down onto the dais, making it appear alive in the wash of the multiple hues. The silk whispered a soft hiss as the wind gently pushed the streamers to and fro.
	He looked out toward the crowd and touched them with his smile. They remained silent. Raising his arms, Ar-Ion began the formalities that were demanded of the Royal House, “Rise, rise and let me be heard. I, King Ar-Ion, Ruler of Ra-Jee, am honored at your presence for this ‘Celebration of Life’.”
	The crowd burst out with applause: a loud exploding din that threatened to deafen the multitudes. Holding up his hands for silence, he was immediately rewarded.
	In the quiet, Ra-Nu thought he heard a sneer. He turned toward the sound, and found himself staring at the old Elf, once again. He made a move toward him, but had not taken two steps when he heard his name being announced from the dais.
	Ra-Nu was torn between his desire to honor a friendship and his responsibilities as a warrior. Choosing friendship, he turned to make his way toward Ar-Ion. He glanced once more to the stranger and shrugged. His questions would just have to wait.
	Mounting the golden stairs, Ra-Nu heard Ar-Ion say, “My friends, here arrives the Royal Captain of my Guards, Ra-Nu. He is my most trusted Warrior and, above all, my dearest friend.”
	The Forest Elves cheered. Again Ar-Ion had to beg for silence. He signaled to Sin-Ca, who hurried forward to bring his daughter to him.
	Cradling Ra-May within his arms, he whispered something in her tiny ears, something for her alone. Then he carefully pulled the cloth away from her face and lifted her high over his head, “May I present to you, to Ra-Jee, and to the Ancients, my daughter, the Princess Ra-May. So named in the customs of the Ancients, now and forever. May this please the land, and all within find harmony and be blessed.”
	The Bands sank to their knees, as the customary call rang out, “Hail to thee, Princess Ra-May. Live full and with harmony.”
	The salute was repeated over and over in a sort of chant, until the King, his arm waving wildly, finally managed to quiet them.
	“My friends, it is not custom to announce laws at the ‘Celebration of Life’, but this one is very important to me. I hope you will bear with me as I delay the feasting but a few moments more. I hereby decree the guardianship of Ra-Jee, of my daughter, the Princess Ra-May, and all who live within, to my trusted friend, Ra-Nu, in the event that I should be unlucky enough to depart before my time.”
	“He shall watch over her, and all that will be hers, until the time she is able to wear the Amulet and take her rightful place upon the throne. Do you, Ra-Nu, understand all that is asked of you, and will you accept?”
	“I do, my Lord.”
	“Then let it so be witnessed, and having been witnessed, let it now become law,” Ar-Ion proclaimed.
	He placed Ra-May gently into Ra-Nu’s large, shaking hands and lifted the Amulet and pressed it to his daughter’s breast.
	“By the Power of the Amulet, it is now so. Let all hear; let all obey!”
	Abruptly, the blue of the skies changed. In a swirling, hazy slither, the hues deepened and grew threatening. A dense fog rolled in from the mountains, blanketing the Valley in its moist, smoky grasp.
	Ar-Ion felt as if his skin was being peeled away, much as the colors of the sky were being stripped of all brilliance. Baleful clouds began to build, rushing to canopy the Valley, while menacing thunder echoed from within their blackened depths. A sudden anger of Nature was upon them.
	Ar-Ion stared, watching with horrid fascination, almost as if he had stepped outside of himself and was only a witness in the events that were taking place around him, watching helplessly as the movements of his Race slowed, quickly eroding toward paralyzes.
	Ra-Nu still holding the princess, swung his head about, frantically searching for someone to take her. He needed the use of his weapons. But no one was near. Realizing he was now as helpless as the babe within his arms, he knew could not aid his King.
	The stranger Ra-Nu had noted earlier, separated from the crowd and moved forward. He mounted the dais with a stride that resembled that of a slithering serpent sliding and slinking across the patterned surface. Ra-Nu expected to see grotesque scales across his arms when he raised them, but to his astonishment, there were none.
	The hair on Ra-Nu’s arms bristled from the charged air. Something was very, very wrong. There was danger in the darkness that threatened to smother them, and it centered around this stranger. He led it as if it were his pet, Master of the threatening elements, unleashing them upon a helpless Ra-Jee.
	The strange Elf turned toward Ar-Ion with a sneer etched firmly across his features. A deformed hand, resembling a claw, hung limply at his side, and his voice came out in a hideous whisper through the veil draping over his face.
	The crowd’s unreal motion amplified, their movements a liquid, breezy dance. Unified, they swayed to the spell while their souls struggled against it. But their struggle remained impotent against the spell that held their physical bodies. The comprehension shining in their eyes chilled Ra-Nu’s own soul.
	The Elf or demon, pointed a bony finger at Ar-Ion and hissed, “You, Play King, have no right to decree anything. You are weak. It is a pity that you have made this so easy for me. I would have expected more from Ar-Hur’s blood,” the dark one spat as a gnarled hand snaked out of his robes and snatched away the veil that hid his features. “But of course, he is gone, and it seems, so is his power.”
	‘How can this be?’ Ar-Ion’s shocked mind screamed as he sank to his knees. He fought for control of himself. He was the King. He must protect the land and all within. The land that was Ra-Jee depended upon it. He opened his mouth, yet nothing came out. His lips moved, but no sound drew forth.
	“Oh, what has happened? Has the Play King lost his tongue? Too bad,” sneered the creature. “Well, I shall answer the question that I am sure you would ask if you were able! Ra-Jee is now mine. My Kingdom and my servants. I will take the Amulet, for you will have no further use for it. I am Ra-Jee’s only heir now.”
	Then he laughed and, in a movement that belied his stance, knelt down before a silent Ar-Ion and whispered, “What? I see in your eyes that you have doubts. It matters not. I still lay claim. Ha! Why, Play King, I am now your Ruler. My name may have been removed, but my essence remains; awaiting my return. Ra-Jee does not forget her own.”
	“Know this -- from this cycle forward, Ar-Hur, and all his blood, will be forgotten. He was a plague upon the land, a fester that never healed. But now I have returned to heal it.”
	He threw his head back and released a hideous, raspy howl. The vibrations shook deeply into Ar-Ion’s soul. He was lost, all was lost, unless...
	Backing away, scrapping his knees across the deep engravings, he made his way toward the center of the dais. He whispered the ‘Chant of the Amulet’ while summoning all the remaining strength that he possessed. His fists were balled tightly at his side as he reached outward to his lifeline...

	“...The sky was now as black as second cycle, nay -- blacker, for there were no stars or moon to guide their sight. They were wrapped in the evil, caught in the void,” the Storyteller gasped...

	...Their facial expressions were frozen in horror. The crazy, rhythmic swaying had ended, but no Elf moved to break the strange spell, and no Elf defended the King.
	As one, the Bands began to careen, faster and faster, with the strange swaying movement. Appearing hypnotized, they rocked unsteadily to and fro, until they finally surrendered and fell limply to the ground.
	Ra-Nu still clutched the babe in his arms. Try as he might he could not make his legs work. He gasped, realizing that his own movements had become retarded, mired in an invisible mixture of mud and water where swiftness and grace were impossible.
	He saw the Queen turn toward Ar-Ion with sleek, liquid movements that caused the hair at the base of his neck to stand at attention. He gathered his strength and pulled against the power that threatened to overcome him.
	He heard the stranger’s hoarse cackle. Turning his head, he sought him, but was rendered sightless by a brilliant flash of light. Tasting magic clogging the air and feeling searing wind torment his skin as it blew by, he thought he  understood what had happened.
	Blinking, he sought Ar-Ion, only to discover him lying in the center of the dais, his body motionless, a gaping wound pumping his life blood outward to soak his tunic. His fists were balled at his side, the grip so tight that the knuckles had paled and now appeared pure white. Mi-Ra knelt beside him, weeping, her long, blonde braids slick with the flow of Ar-Ion’s blood. Then, like the Bands, she too, was overcome, landing limply upon the dais in a motionless heap.
	The strange Elf stood above them, his laughter sharp and wild. “Mine, mine! Finally, mine!”
	Ra-Nu stood rooted to the floor. He tried to move, but his feet refused to obey. He was growing weary, his limbs becoming heavy and cumbersome, his head a burden to hold upright. Then he felt, rather than heard, Ar-Ion call out.
	“You must protect her. Revenge the land, Ra-Nu. Protect my child, for she is the power of Ra-Jee. Farewell, old friend. What I do, I do for Ra-May. By the Power of the Amulet, my will shall be done.”
	Then, instead of succumbing to the alluring song of the magic, Ra-Nu found he was filled with a renewed vigor, able to break free and move. Not wasting the gift, he stepped back and turned to run, but it was too little, too late. Looking up, he saw the stranger bearing down on them. In his gnarled claw he held a dagger, its gleaming metal out of place against the otherwise opaque backdrop.
	The situation hopeless, Ra-Nu turned his back in one final act of protection, hoping to take the blow himself. He covered the babe with his large frame and waited for the pain he knew would come. Waited and felt nothing.
	He opened his eyes to the sun’s blinding, yet welcome, glare and lifted his face to greet it, sighing as its warmth caressed him.
	He no longer stood upon the dais. For that matter, he realized that he no longer stood within the Valley of Ra-Jee.
	Before him stood a huge, lush forest contently accepting his intrusion. But he had never seen these woods before. Although beautiful and enchanting, the forest’s very existence frightened him. He did not know this place, nor understand how he came to be here, but was reasonably sure magic was making his choices for him. There were no others in sight. No buildings nor any signs of there ever having been a Race, of any kind, calling this place their home. Just him and the babe in his arms.
	He reached down and removed the cloth from around her face. His movements caused her to snuggle deeper into his chest. A yawn surfaced, shaping her mouth into a simple circle.
	He smiled.
	He looked around for a place to set her down. He needed to be free to sort this mess out. What had happened? How did they arrive here? A lot of questions and no one to answer them.
	He saw a small clearing nearby. The spot looked beaten back in preparation of their arrival. The thought was unnerving.
	He shook off his emotional clouding and went toward it. It was shady and cool and looked to provide sufficient shelter for the moment. He could see in all directions and saw it was the best that the woods could offer him -- for now.
	Pushing dried leaves together with his feet, he formed a crude cradle for his charge. He bent his knees awkwardly, trying to move smoothly, not wishing to wake the babe. He did not really manage a graceful descent, but he did manage to keep the child in slumber.
	“Good,” he said out loud. “Now what?”
	He drew his hand across his eyes, rubbing at the throbbing pain forming behind them. He was tired, and understood nothing. Sighing, he reached down to pull Ra-May’s covering over her arms. Something hidden within the cloth winked at him as it caught the sun.
	He leaned closer and whistled, “By the Ancients! I do not believe this.”
	Across the babe’s chest lay a Circlet, formed of pure gold, the symbol of royalty in Ra-Jee. In its center, seamed and mounted in all its glory, stood a jewel blinking a welcome to him. He knew that jewel. He had seen it many times as it swayed on a chain around Ar-Ion’s neck.
	It swirled and pulsated, flashing its light as he reached down to touch it. It hummed with its power. He held it in his hands and repeatedly turned it over and over. Aye, it was the Amulet, all right. Transformed for a new owner but still the same jewel. Accepting its new role, to its new master, the Princess Ra-May.
	He remembered the serpent who had invaded his homeland. He visualized the Elves as they floated downward to their doom. Were they dead? He did not know. He relived the sight of Ar-Ion’s bloody body and the awful knowledge of the meaning...and the words, once again resounded in his mind...“Protect...Protect...”
	He did not fully understand but knew that, with the aid of the Amulet, Ar-Ion had sent them here. He knew of the love Ar-Ion held for his tiny daughter and remembered the urgency in his friend’s eyes, the emotional plea, and the yearning Ar-Ion expressed for his only child’s safety.
	So now, here they were. Safe supposedly, within a wooded sanctuary protected by some unseen magic that the Amulet sought to impose.
	Ra-Nu sighed.
	‘Safe?’ he questioned.
	Rubbing at the tightening that had developed across his massive chest, he struggled to hold his tears at bay. ‘We are safe while all else that I have loved is, quite possibly, gone. In a blink of an eye, all that I have ever known is simply no more.’
	He bowed his head and prayed for guidance, pleading that some hope still remained for his Race.
	He stayed thus for a long time, then when the shadows began to grow long about him, the Warrior in him awoke, snapping him back to his present situation.
	Giving a loud snort, he shrugged, “Well, what else is there to do?” A vow was a promise that should never be broken. “It is a matter of honor,” he admitted to the still forest glade.
	“I promised to care for you, little one,” he proclaimed as he looked down upon Ra-May’s sleeping form. “And care for you, I will. But how? That is the question. But I will do it...somehow. I promised your father, and now I will vow the same to you. No harm shall ever come your way as long as I live. Your steps will be guided and your mind will be taught. Never shall you forget the evil that passed within our shadows, nor shall I let you forget those who loved you. You shall always know the land that supports you and be told of the great land that is called Ra-Jee -- your true home. You are Elf, little one; you are Ra-Jee! This is my pledge to you, now and forever. I will not fail you as I failed your father...my friend.”
	He looked around again with a clearer mind and began to make plans...

	‘...Within the blankets, the jewel glowed Gold...’

Chapter Four
The Crowning

	First cycle was receding, gently angling toward the dusky start of Second with a delicate sigh of surrender. He watched the silent passage of the sun wrapped in his own cocoon of solitude.
	He lazed against a great shading tree while Ra-May picked berries nearby. They would use them to add color to their late meal. He sighed, knowing contentment.
	It was hard for him to believe that it was Ra-May’s Birthing cycle. By his own calculations -- which was the only time piece that they had -- a hundred Elfen phasings had passed in the outside world, give or take a phase or two, while they remained safely ensconced within this forest hideaway, seen by no one, nor seeing any other. Safe but trapped as well.
	When Ra-May was still little more than a sprite, he had tracked the boundaries of their small world, hoping to discover a chink in the magic’s armor, or mayhap a small area that one could squeeze through. It was one thing to select the area and time to leave, yet another thing all together if someone or something could come upon them unexpectedly. And so, he had wandered their domain at random, but always ended up at his original starting point.
	Possessing phenomenal forest skills, he should have seen the obvious but was too stubborn to give up easily. Over and over again he had set out to win...but win, he could not. Eventually he had admitted defeat and surrendered to the greater power.
	Mayhap they were not prisoners exactly, he amended. He knew the magic holding them was a protective reaction to the threat from the Del-a-Shar -- the soul stealer -- as he had so christened the stranger that had attacked them. Although he did not understand it, he had come to accept the magical boundaries about him, for what it was: Ra-May’s guardian and his keeper. No matter what one named it, he still felt trapped.
	He had reasoned many phasings past that when the time was right, they would be set free, once again able to soar as an Elf should be permitted. Somehow, a path would appear to show them the way out. He had to believe that, or go insane. Until that time he knew that he would just have to make do.
	He grinned. He had made do, perhaps not in the way Ar-Ion had suggested, but he had managed.
	“And not too badly,” he preened. “Aye, not too bad for an Elf never joined.”
	Enjoying the feel of the smooth bark against his back, he allowed himself the luxury of remembering those first phasings of their imposed entrapment.
	It was apparent from the beginning that he was going to have his hands full. If Ra-May had been just an ordinary Elfling he would have been in for a difficult time, but she had turned out to be no ordinary anything.
	Something that made itself known from almost the very first cycle, and had given him quite a shock, was Ra-May’s ability to wield magic. Not spells of nature or oral incantations but true magic brought out through the soul.
	When still a tiny Elfling she had been able to brandish such a pure stream of magic that it had scared him senseless. The flow came from within and centered in her tiny hands. Once there, its power was released into the air to create beautiful streams of color dancing merrily above her crib. Aye, how she had giggled and cooed at those brilliant, multicolored rainbows. She had done it without the Amulet or any other device that he could see. This was a feat that he had only heard about in many of the old tales that the village Elders had told.
	The appearance of true soul magic had reminded him that he was being charged to raise a ‘Child of the Gold’. It was a sobering thought. How was he going to handle this new development? No Elf, none since the time of King Ar-Hur, had commanded soul magic. Oh, the magic was still there, within them, but it came out in the form of their skills, or in the land that they lovingly cared for.
	Actually Ra-Nu had never really believed the Elders’ claims. When it came to the stories about magic once having flowed freely from all Elves, straight from their souls, on command, well...he had not, in truth, been able to believe it. Old Elves with feeble minds, he had thought then...now he knew they had spoken true.
	He was going to have to reshape, and rethink, his beliefs. He had never seen an Ancient, but looking down at Ra-May as she displayed her special skills, he could guess at their nature.
	It seemed that all the teachings of the Crystal, all the lessons he had endured as a young student, were surfacing, fighting for recognition within his foggy mind. He would have to remember them all if he was going to teach her.
	He had bowed his head that cycle and begged for guidance...pleading of the Ancients to grant him wisdom. He needed all the aid he could muster especially in trying to raise a child that could, if the mood struck her, turn him into a bug.
	He laughed again at the memories. In the end, he had relied mostly on his instincts and raised her the only way he knew; which was to say, he had raised her as a warrior.
	In the final assessment, his instincts had been the only true course he could have chosen. It was the only magic he possessed.
	‘Now,’ he thought, ‘Ra-May has reached her 100th phasing. By the laws of Ra-Jee, she is grown.’
	‘Aye, grown,’ he chuckled as he watched her. ‘And so too, her magic.’ He shook his head.
	Nodding, he whispered, “I have not done so badly. At least we are still alive. My little Sprite has grown into a maiden who is kind of heart, pure in thought and a rare feast for these old eyes.”
	During her childhood he had repeatedly stressed goodness, encouraging her to use her magic wisely. She was Elf, he had lectured, and as such, she must always remember that the magic was a bonding with nature. To do harm with the gift was to harm the land.
	He had taught her all that he knew, which turned out to be a great deal. More than he himself had realized. And now, though still in fine shape, he was soon to cross his 300th phasing and was beginning to feel it.
	Yet, he had never given in, not really. He taught her about her heritage, the Elfen Race, about Ra-Jee and her Royal lineage. He had made her attune herself to their surroundings, learning to be as one with nature, teaching her to use the forest, and the creatures within, to her advantage.
	He had spent endless cycles telling and retelling the teachings of the Crystal and the great stories of the Ancients, at least what had been known, while always stressing the center, or point, within one’s self that created balance. These were important things, things she would need to learn in order to rule Ra-Jee.
	Together they had hunted, climbed, worked endlessly with bow and arrow, and sword against shield. Rigorously, they practiced the short blade and set up targets to throw the fling shot. They tracked and learned camouflage -- the teacher showing the pupil how to blend in, unnoticed, within their tiny world.
	Those had been the easy lessons; things that he had known and was able to give without doubt or unease...the hard ones came when he had to try to teach her to act as a lady should.
	He began by recalling all the things that he admired in maidens and brought them to bear. There were attributes like: charm, poise, beauty and grace. All things that made a maiden feminine. 
	He had foolishly taken these things for granted, thinking that this was a thing that was born inherent but soon realized that it was not. Females, he discovered, learned these things from others as they grew, and if he wanted Ra-May to act the role, he would have to teach her that too.
	If he continued to treat her as a warrior, then she would grow up more a male and less a female, at least in her actions. He had strived to find a balance between the two sexes and, looking at her now, knew that he had somehow achieved the harmony that he had sought.
	He blushed. That embarrassing task had begun very comically, giving him a great deal of grief. Yet somehow things turned out in spite of himself. She had indeed grown up with all the feminine charms that he had admired in others.
	Now the lessons were done. Watching her, he thought that Ar-Ion would have been proud. Truthfully, in his heart, she was his daughter, and he took all the credit for how fine an Elf she had grown to be. Aye, grown and time for her to rule Ra-Jee, if only within her mind.
	Lost within his thoughts, he failed to hear the footsteps as they crept toward him. When the shadow crossed his face, he looked upward with a start. Ra-May stood over him, silently watching, her mirth barely contained, witnessed by the pure mischief dancing in her golden eyes.
	“Oh, Ra-Nu, you must have fallen asleep. So sad,” she teased, “when the pupil can so easily sneak up on the teacher.”
	“Alas, not sleep, I fear, but the sands of time seeping away. Age has dulled my senses and rendered me nothing more than helpless prey. Come and help this old Elf up and into the hut.”
	Ra-Nu croaked, extending a huge hand out to swallow Ra-May’s small one. “If I do not eat soon, I fear that I will die.”
	She laughed and began to tug on his outstretched arm, his great size not being an easy weight to lift. Ra-Nu raised himself to his full height and looked down at her. Smiling, he wrapped an arm around her petite form and began to maneuver them both toward their tiny home.
	“Let us eat, little one, and then I have a surprise for you.”
	Ra-May halted with such quickness that she nearly caused Ra-Nu to trip upon his own feet. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, her face aglow.
	“Please tell me what it is? Please?”
	“Oh, ho,” Ra-Nu chuckled, “and I thought you grown, yet here you stand, acting as if you are still a sprite no higher than my knee.”
	“I am sorry,” she whispered, head bent, almost as if she meant it -- almost. He was not fooled. He knew her better than that.
	“Now, Ra-May, if I told you what the surprise was, then it would no longer be one. Learn to have patience. That lesson has always been the one you have failed. Patience will win out in any battle, whether it be physical or of the mind. Remember this.”
	“Now,” he said, slapping his hands together, “let us clean those berries. As I have already stated, if this old Elf does not eat soon, I will fade away to a worthless pile of skin and bones.”
	All through their solitary meal, Ra-May watched Ra-Nu like a cat worrying a mouse. Her impatience apparent in her every gesture. If she had possessed any patience at all, it had long since departed.
	She had hurried through her meal, quite unladylike, and quickly tidied up. Now she sat across from Ra-Nu -- fidgeting.
	He finished his second bowl of stew and seriously considered having a third. He could only grin when he heard Ra-May’s foot begin to tap upon the wooden flooring.
	“This stew is uncommonly delicious, Ra-May. I cannot seem to get my fill.”
	Outwardly, he pretended to be ignorant of her agitation, yet inwardly he was all too aware of the building storm that was threatening to blow in. Soon her inner emotional turmoil would work itself to the surface and then he would be at her mercy. The thought made him chuckle. “I think that I will have one more bowl. Mayhap it will sate my excessive hunger.”
	Rising, he made his way carefully toward the fire pit. He heard Ra-May blow an exasperated sigh and hastened his steps. Setting his bowl on a rock ledge beside the stew pot, he maneuvered his back to her. Turning his head slightly so that he could watch her under lowered lids, he placed his hand inside his leather tunic.
	Nestled protectively against his chest was the Royal Circlet, wrapped in a piece of Ra-May’s own swaddling cloth. He withdrew it and reached for his bowl. By placing the bowl directly on top of the cloth, he was able to conceal it from her view as he made his way back to the table.
	Ra-May watched as he hoisted himself back onto the stool and released another pitiful sigh. Her antics brought a smile to his lips, causing the skin around his eyes to crinkle. When she rested her chin forlornly upon one of her hands and began to ideally draw patterns upon the polished table top with the other, he relented. Enough was enough. She was doing remarkably well considering her inability to remain patient.
	“Little one, come here and sit in front of me. You know how I enjoy our talks during meals, and your lovely face will help me enjoy this food all the more.”
	She rose and scooted her own stool over so that she was directly opposite him. She had started to sigh yet again but stopped midway when she noticed his empty bowl.
	“Ra-Nu, please forgive me if this sounds rude, but I could have sworn you just went and refilled your bowl. Whatever could you be plotting?” This last remark punctuated by one of her most innocent pouts.
	“Alas, Sprite, you have found me out.” Shaking his head, he continued, “I must admit though, watching you try to have patience where there has never been any before has given me great amusement. Ah, but the teacher knows when it is time to end a lesson.”
	He reached across the table and took her soft hands in his rough, calloused ones.
	“I promised you a surprise and you shall have it soon, but first allow me to speak that which is on my mind.”
	Ra-May sat strangely still, aglow with anticipation. Her heightened state polishing her fair coloring into a rare jewel.
	“I have raised you,” he continued, “as I hoped I would raise my own, and I do love you as if you were from my own loins. No matter what else may happen, remember what I have said, and know that I will always be near. If you are in need, I will be there for you.”
	He rose from the table and came around to stand in front of her. Lowering himself down to kneel on one knee, he reclaimed her hand and said, “I do hereby swear on all the blood of your ancestors, on all the power and wisdom of Ra-Jee, my unconditional allegiance to the Princess Ra-May, daughter of King Ar-Ion, and now, Ruler of Ra-Jee.”
	“Ruler?” Ra-May whispered. “Whatever are you babbling about? I do not deny that you wanted me to be this Ruler.” She shook her head, “But I never believed you. I always thought you told me the tales of the Royal House, of my supposed parents, and all the other marvelous things, just to make me feel special. All wonderful tales, no more, nor less.”
	His mouth fell open. Sighing, he questioned, “Sprite, why in the name of the Ancients would you believe otherwise? I am nothing more than your guardian: your teacher and companion. All duties your father assigned to me, placing his faith in me to see you grown and safely installed upon the throne of Ra-Jee.”
	“It is just that, well, I always believed that you made it up,” she whispered.
	Ra-Nu leaned forward, straining to hear her words.
	“Yet, now I begin to sense the truth of your words, here,” she proclaimed pointing to her chest, “within my heart.”
	“Does this not please you, Ra-May?”
	“Yea and nay. If the truth be told, I am bewildered. What proof is there for me to hold? I have seen nor heard no other save for you all my life. Am I to sit upon a wooden throne and rule over you? Nay, I think not. That would surely displease me. I think that I would rather go on as before, you staying yourself and I remaining, as I have always been, your little Sprite.”
	“You will not sit upon a wooden throne, yet, it is true that I will be one of the many that you will rule. You asked for proof, and that was to have been the real surprise, not the jolt you just gave me. I never knew that you had not believed me all these phasings. Shame, child, for not telling me so in the beginning. We could have had this over and done with, then this cycle could have contained only joy.”
	Having delivered his admonishment, he carefully brought forth the cloth package and allowed its wrappings to unfold. Placing the Circlet upon her golden head, he stepped back to admire his charge.
	Ra-May sat in silence, awed by the magnificent ornament glistening upon the backdrop of her long locks. ‘Reminiscent of her mother,’ Ra-Nu thought as he watched the ornament’s strange light play across and down the length of the mass of silken tresses.
	The moment the Circlet touched her brow, the metal leapt to life, snatching eagerly at the available light, absorbing it, then reflecting it back in a swirl of multi-leveled hues that swarmed like tiny, darting fireflies throughout their hut.
	Ra-May touched the jewel at its center with shaky, tentative fingertips. She smiled down into Ra-Nu’s older, yet still youthful, face.
	“Oh, Ra-Nu,” she breathed, “it is so wonderful. It sings to me. I hear its song and it is so very beautiful. It caresses my inner being, pulling it from its resting place begging me to come and dance in the light.”
	“Hold tight to the feelings, little one. One cycle these feelings may tell you all that you will ever need to know.”
	“Welcome to thee, my Princess Ra-May. Hail and hearty Birthing cycle,” he offered as he bowed deeply before her.
	Ra-May knelt down and hugged Ra-Nu, thanking him for the wonderful, if not startling, gift.
	“It has always been yours, Sprite. I did no more than keep it safe until you were ready to guard it for yourself.”

Chapter Five
Once Upon a Dream

	He sat beside the forest pool pondering his own melancholy reflection. His image shimmered as it floated atop the pool’s silvery surface. Like his reflection, his thoughts had no anchor, wandering to and fro, backwards and forwards, like some endless tug-of-war.
	To feel so unsettled while at the edge of his little pool was a very strange emotion. This had always been his sanctuary, his one place where he could come and sort out the confusion that muddled his thoughts.
	But now the glimmering water, with its soft gentle murmurs, offered no peace. No soothing thoughts took form to calm him. The water was clear and peaceful, it was his mind that was troubled -- muddy and full of murky emotional debris.
	He leaned back with a heavy sigh. Realizing to struggle was useless, he surrendered to his unease, allowing his thoughts to roam where they chose.
	He drifted, effortlessly recalling a succession of fanciful moments from his youth, until one memory surfaced that refused to lay meek. Its bold demand for attention forced all other thoughts far into the background while awakening emotions he’d buried deep within himself -- so deep that his subconscious had regulated them to the faded remnants of dreams...until now.
	He recalled that the forgotten cycle had dawned like countless others, with little to mark it dissimilar, but it had felt distinctive to him then.
	An odd feeling of inadequacy had overcome him, leaving him inundated with emptiness. He felt completely entombed by oppressive sadness, shrouded by a dark, threatening cloud. He had been quite young at the time, and not understanding the disquiet, it had frightened him.
	He’d happened upon the pool that same spring morn, although he hadn’t come looking for any great peace of mind, nor any sanctuary from the regimen of daily life. He’d happened across the pool in his one great act of rebellion. His headlong flight of escape...escape from trying to be all that others expected him to be.
	He’d ran that cycle to free himself of tutors, of duties, and all the things others said he must know because of who he was...and he ran from the fear that gripped his heart. That morn he didn’t wish to be a prince, youngest child of the House of Doran. He had just wanted to be a little boy named Michall, responsible to no one.
	So, he had rebelled that long ago spring morn, fighting against rules and restrictions. After all, he’d thought then, what good was it to be a prince if you were never allowed to be free? He’d yelled and stormed in a most unprincely manner, then raced out of the Palace toward the stables. Once mounted, he cleared the courtyard and gave his steed free rein.
	The wind had flapped around his small frame. His long, thick locks flew gleefully behind him and joined the wind in a spiritual dance. He was free, if only for a while. For one brief moment he had become the wind. He’d been alive and unhindered.
	His horse had run on and on without him caring in which direction they headed. Then he’d felt the wind die away and his senses slowly return. His mount was spent, its weary limbs quivered with exhaustion. It could run no further.
	The simpler pace allowed him to view his surroundings in earnest. His mood altered, the rage fleeing, being replaced with a rare, innocent pleasure. He immediately dismounted.
	He discovered that he stood within a small, secluded glade nestled deep in the Royal Forest, staring at an inviting pool that stood at its center.
	He sat down beside the cool water and let the reflections that skimmed its surface console his troubled thoughts.
	The liquid slid smoothly over his fingers as he trailed them lightly through the water, the action creating tiny rings that skipped quickly over the once calm surface. The lapping sounds caused by the gentle rippling whispered to him, shooing away the last dregs of his anger.
	Without being consciously aware of it, he dozed. At least, it felt like he’d slept, yet he still didn’t know for sure.
	He saw beautiful things, images that floated within a misty reality, showing him dream scenes veiled in enchantment, its fibers wove from pure light.
	Drawn to its glow, he approached the weave. He stood at its edge and felt its heat radiating before him. He reveled in its warmth as he walked the perimeter. But, strangely, he walked as a man, not the child he knew himself to be.
	The man...or himself...stood beside the pool of silver, caressed by the glowing light of enchantment. On impulse, he looked across the water and was surprised to see he wasn’t alone.
	The lights of the magic wrapped themselves tightly about them as he looked on the maiden watching him from the far shore. She belonged to the enchantment, he was sure it could be no other way. No real being could be so perfect. He stared, mouth hanging open as her golden eyes pierced his soul, causing him to grow weak in the knees.
	The sight of her made his heart ache. He’d never known such exquisite pain, nor joy, and thought with some dismay that he finally felt complete.
	Her silver gown floated effortlessly upon the light, merging with the swirling mist. He wanted to call to her, ask her name, yet said nothing for fear that in breaking the silence he would break the spell that was upon him. He was reduced to standing awkwardly by the pool, in a body that was not his own, watching her in silent agony.
	She met his stare, holding it as she pointed downward toward the little pool. His gaze reluctantly left her, traveling the length of her arm, coming to rest upon the pool’s shining surface.
	The water had hardened and took on the true features of a mirror, yet, unlike a mirror, gave nothing back -- no reflections to mimic him. A cold chill ran up his spine and the small boy in him became afraid. After all, he was only a child and didn’t understand what was happening to him.
	The hard, slick surface began to change, turning a golden hue before his astonished eyes. His fears turned to shock, and his mind sounded off its own warnings. ‘What abounds within this glade?’
	The golden hues of the pool continued to change, transform. Images began to take shape within its swirling depths, flashing pictures of things he’d never witnessed, but somehow, somewhere, he knew them. Great white towers rose majestically upward from a watery surface connected to the land by long, slender bridges shaped in delicate arches. Representing a fantasy, framed by crystal clear lakes and a lush green forest, stood a walled palace made of the purest stone, its eternal beauty complemented by marble statues and colossal monuments. He noticed strange runes engraved at their bases and along the expansive walls. Combined, the setting was one of surreal elegance.
	People roamed casually upon the manicured lawns and polished pathways of the Keep, moving as one toward the great white towers that stood pristine and impressive within the center of the lake.
	All were dressed in colorful finery and from their relaxed, easy manners, seemed to be willingly engaging in some manner of festivities.
	Then darkness began to descend over the once blue skies. Screams rose up as panic-strickened faces looked upward in confusion, but their cries were quickly muffled by the growing void.
	Michall’s eyes scanned the scene, searching until he located the source of the darkness. There, upon a great golden dais set between the white towers, stood its root...a thing creating a black cavity that reached out and snatched all the life from the air, swallowing all light and replacing it with its foul breath.
	Michall started to turn away, unable to abide the destruction, but stopped when he noticed a huge man standing apart, cradling a small babe in his arms.
	The thing turned, swooping down on them as a falcon would his prey.
 	Michall was horrified. What could he do to help them?
	Somehow he understood he must act; he must give them his strength. Instinct alone drove him as he stepped toward the vision. When he moved, a great sword suddenly appeared in his hand, seemingly from out of thin air. Michall could feel its power surging through him.
	Raising the sword, he thrust it into the water. A blinding flash erupted from the rent, rendering him momentarily sightless. The light beat back the darkness with its glow, its power throwing Michall backwards upon the ground. When his sight returned, he quickly sought the pool’s surface, and noted, somewhat triumphantly, that the scene had changed.
	The man and babe had vanished, and the thing stood roaring in outrage, filling the air with its screams, sending the sound out across the land in echoing waves. The valley he had so admired, lay in ruin.
	He looked up and across the pool to where the maiden stood. He saw her tears as they cut glistening tracks down her pale cheeks. She held out her hand to him, then pulled it back to clutch her heart. With her other hand she waved a sorrowful farewell as her image grew thinner, fading toward transparency.
	Michall couldn’t let her go -- not yet.
	“Wait,” he’d screamed. “Don’t go! Tell me why! Tell me why have you come?” he’d pleaded. “Are these events of things to come, or things that have already passed? Do you warn, or do you seek to punish me for my disobedience?”
	Upon the winds rose a low, wistful sigh, its breath blowing a gentle, caress across his fevered brow.
	“Ra-Jee...Ra-Jee...Ra-Jee.........................”
	Then he awoke, or had he ever been asleep?
	All his instincts had told him that what he’d seen had been real. He looked anxiously down at his hands, inspecting them for change. He was no longer a man, but a little boy lying beside a small pool, in a forest glade.
	He was awash in emotions and grieved for his loss of the maiden -- whether she was real or not, he knew that his life would be forever changed. He laid his head down beside the pool of silver moonlight and allowed himself the luxury of tears.
	Again the old memory faded. He’d not thought of that long ago cycle, nor the vision, in many phasings, and wondered why he should choose to recall it so clearly now. Still, if he was to be honest with himself, he’d carried the horrors of that cycle with him since.
	He remembered how useless and out of sorts he’d felt after returning home. His parents had known he was troubled but had reasoned it centered around his recent outburst. They had left him alone with his thoughts.
	For many full turns thereafter, he’d been shadowed by a terrible foreboding. His sleep plagued by nightmares: evil, horrid scenes, causing him to wake screaming of the dream city and its ultimate destruction.
	Each new cycle saw him more sullen and moody, withdrawing further from his friends, snapping at his sisters whenever one penetrated to far into his inner sanctum.
	Not understanding, his parents summoned in Specialists, hoping that their skills could somehow soothe their son’s troubled mind. But the Specialists found that they could do nothing to dispel whatever demons rested within Michall’s mind. Rumors began to circulate throughout the grounds that the young prince was going insane, that he’d lost his mind.
	In desperation, his father, King Mikam, gave up on the so-called medical profession and turned to more mystic ways. He’d summoned an old soothsayer whom it was rumored knew all there was to know of magic: evil or good. King Mikam begged the man to try whatever was necessary to rid his son of the haunting dreams.
	Michall had sat with Helmon-Dy-e, the ‘magic man’ as he’d dubbed him, and told of all that he’d witnessed by the pool. The ‘magic man’ had listened patiently, nodding often, and occasionally waving but always coaxing him to continue.
	When Michall had cried out the last of his tale, Helmon-Dy-e had reached over and patted the prince’s hand, “Listen to me, boy, for I’ll tell you, and you alone, the secrets behind your veiled eyes. You’re not mad, child. No, not mad, only chosen.”
	Michall looked up, brows raised in a questioning arch, dark eyes opened wide, appearing too large against the backdrop of his youthful face.
	Helmon-Dy-e continued, “Come, don’t look so stunned. Is it so hard to believe that you could possess magic?”
	Michall said nothing, capable of only staring at the strange, old man.
	“Listen and believe,” Helmon-Dy-e said. “A very long time ago, long before our time, there was a place called Ra-Jee. I know this to be true; my Masters taught me of this place and I have no wish to doubt their words. No mortal place was this Ra-Jee. No, it was a valley filled with magical beings known as Elves.”
	“There are no such things as Elves,” Michall retorted rather regally.
	“Oh, no? Well, regrettably, not now there isn’t.” Helmon-Dy-e sighed and shook his head. “But once, a long time gone now, they walked our world. Once, they lived and breathed. There were great numbers of them, existing in our world then, as easily as we live here now. Then one cycle, Ra-Jee and its Race just disappeared. No one knows what happened, not really. There are always the rumors to consider. Perhaps your dreams are the answer to the riddle. Perhaps you have been given, not a burden but a gift; a chance to see what no mortal has ever seen.”
	“But, if these visions are from the past, and the maiden a being departed, why do I dream endlessly of its destruction? Why does she haunt me?”
	“Prince Michall, magic is a tool that isn’t understood. It comes and gifts so very few that positive answers constantly evade us.”
	He paused as if to ponder his next words, then continued, “I do think that now that you understand these dreams are of the past, and that there is nothing you can do to help Ra-Jee, your nightmares will begin to ebb, and eventually, fade into nothingness.”
	“One cycle, very soon, you will sleep and dream sweet things, and probably not even remember these trying times. Do not fight the demons of the past, rather let them play themselves out and be done.”
	“What of this pool where the visions first appeared?” Michall asked, his voice a mere whisper.
	“My Prince, I wonder myself about that pool. Perhaps it was once a doorway to that enchanted kingdom. Maybe a small bit of magic still remains, even this far into the future. You, being gifted, naturally picked up on lingering vibrations. Who can really say?”
	Helmon-Dy-e had been right. The dreams disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. It seemed that he’d completely forgotten them, or at least tucked them deep within his mind where they no longer troubled him.
	But this cycle they’d come back with startling clarity. It was as if someone had undammed the dike and his childhood nightmares were returning to drown him.
	‘So lovely; such a waste,’ he thought. How could he have buried those visions? How was it possible that he had forgotten the maiden? Now that he recalled her, he couldn’t put her from his mind. To have been shown such beauty, to have felt that he’d found a kindred soul, only to remember that he would never know her was a cruel irony. She was gone from his realm, lost in her own time, hundreds of phasings now gone.
	Gripping his gloves tightly in his balled fists, he took one last wistful look at the tiny pool, then turned to remount. He had to return to the palace...it would not do to be late for his own Birthing celebration. He felt a prickle along his neck and turned again toward the silvery reflections cast by the pool, feeling somehow reluctant to leave. In the water’s reflection he saw himself, as a man, the same man envisioned in the long forgotten dream...

	“...and a very lonely young man,” reflected the Storyteller, “and had been all his life. His eyes, dark and filled with swirling emotions, always seemed to be searching each face he encountered. But he could not find what he searched for. In disappointment, he would withdraw into himself, shutting others away...”

Chapter Six
Disturbing Images

	“Ra-May went to bed early,” Ra-Nu stated to no one, his voice piercing the room’s silence. Of late, he found that he worried about her more and more. He had the beginnings of rare fear nibbling at his senses but as yet these fears had not made themselves understood.
	“Ra-Nu, you old swamp weed,” he exhaled. “Your mind grows fogged within these peaceful surroundings.”
	He leaned back into the downy softness of his chair and watched the fire as it played a crackling symphony upon the log within the stone hearth. Soon, he too, dozed.
	A scream shattered the calm presiding within their tiny hut, snapping him awake, while at the same time chilling him to his marrow.
	Always the warrior, he bounded to his feet, pulling himself to his full height, unconsciously taking a fighting stance, sword already in hand.
	Muscles bunched, taunt and ready, he brought his sword up and scanned the hut like a large cat stalking its prey. And then he saw her standing in the doorway, her skin damp with moisture, her eyes wide and darting wildly about, while large tears ran down her pale cheeks.
	Ra-Nu put down his sword and opened his arms. She ran to the proffered sanctuary, and he folded her in his strong embrace.
	“There, Sprite, what is it? What has come at you in the dark?” he cooed.
	“Ra-Nu,” she sniffed, “I have been away. I left the forest and...and... went to Ra-Jee. I, I...I saw the Del-a-Shar...it...it, it...” she sobbed her breath coming in ragged gasps, “it was trying to kill me!”
	“Hush, little one, it was nothing more than a dream.”
	“Nay,” she moaned, “it was not. I do not feel as if I have been asleep. I was there when Ra-Jee was attacked, but, I was not alone. There was another who, who...stood with me,” she managed. “But he was mortal.”
	“He stood there as my protector -- my guardian -- possessed of a mighty weapon containing powerful magic. When the Del-a-Shar reached out to steal my soul, he stood tall, striking out at it, becoming the light that saved me.”
	With tears still streaming down her cheeks, she looked him directly in the eyes and asked, “What does it mean, Ra-Nu? Who is he, and why did he show me Ra-Jee as it fell?”
	Ra-Nu felt sharp claws slicing his insides to shreds. He stared down into the trusting face of his ward and was helpless to give her a reply. He felt an invisible, cold fist squeeze his racing heart.
	He struggled to give her an answer...but no lie would come. He looked away, unable to meet her stare, and shrugged, “I do not know, Sprite, I honestly have nary an answer...”

	“...What strange magic abounds? What, indeed, could cross such a distance of time, uniting two very different beings for one brief moment?” asked the Storyteller of his audience but received no answer...

Chapter Seven
Restless

	Ra-Nu decided to go hunting and leave Ra-May to herself. Lately, more and more it seemed, she preferred it that way.
	He could not help but notice the faraway expression that crept more and more frequently into her eyes. He knew she yearned for something...but as yet, she did not seem to know what that something was.
	He blamed the dreams for her discomfort. They had continued for several moons then, as quickly as they had appeared, the dreams vanished. Gone, but their essence lingered, hovering about his charge like a tumultuous cloud.
	He thought it best for now to leave her to her solitude. She needed to find the balance...a balance that would make her whole once more.
	He understood, even if she did not, that she had stepped within the portal of her awakening. She had begun to view their little world much the same way he did: less a haven, more a prison. Her desires and needs were manifesting, her worries surfacing.
	He shook his head, knowing that he could never be what she needed. He hoped that the spell that held them here in safety, did not cause greater harm by locking them away from others.
	He longed to be free too and so understood her mood. His heart went out to her. She was young. She deserved a mate and elflings to call her own. In truth, she needed more than he was willing to provide. All he could do was wait and hope.
	And so, with his bow in hand, he had fled into the forest on the pretense of finding food for their late meal. But in truth he needed to be away from his sad little charge. Her unhappiness was not a thing he bore well.
	Ra-May had sent him off with a sad smile playing across her face as she turned away, seeking, he knew, her own seclusion.

	She walked quietly through the lush, green forest that was her home, her feet following a well-worn path to a small clearing ringed by ancient trees. The growth here was tame yet, at the same time, wildly beautiful. This was her world, her tiny universe...her home. It was the only home she had ever known. Yet she knew that there was another place, another home, that claimed her.
	She was uncomfortable within herself and could not define exactly why. She felt lonely, yet that was not the whole problem because she was not alone. It was more like she had somehow lost a part of herself and existed now as a mere shell of her former self.
	She conceded, if only to herself, that the man/child of her dreams had stolen part of her soul -- the part that nourished her.
	Running her hands through her already tousled tresses, she leaned back against a sheltering willow with a sigh and allowed her mind to wander.
	Sunlight trickled in through spaces in the heavy foliage above her, letting in tiny, speckled rays to dance gaily through the air on their way to the ground. One beam found its way to shine brightly upon her Circlet. The gold, warmed by the ray, began to hum a low, sad tune, the very same tune, she realized, as the one it sang the cycle her dreams had begun.
	Forgotten images of frightening dream scenes assaulted her, bombarding her senses, seizing control of her mind and forcing her to again witness the Del-a-Shar, his face contorted with malignant, savage rage as he delivered wanton destruction upon the land.
	Merely a ghostly spectator in a world unknown in the present, she’d stood mute, unable to stop the Del-a-Shar from reaching for Ra-Nu. She’d tried to cry out but had no voice in this reality. Her pulse raced, and her head was besieged with pounding throbs but she could do nothing.
	Then, as was always the case in this dream, the man/child, her savior, plunged his sword into the vision and light engulfed them, swirling the visions into another realm.
	Always before she had awoke screaming, tears streaming down her face, and a concerned Ra-Nu standing near, but now she cried alone, her mind once again her own.
	She sighed.
	Ra-Nu had reasoned that she had somehow invented the man/child warrior out of loneliness. To please him, she had agreed, while secretly thinking her savior a messenger of the Crystal, a guardian in mortal guise.
	Yet she had known that she was groping at stars. The Crystal was no longer powerful, and her thoughts were nothing more than wishful thinking. In time she had convinced herself that she really had made the man/child up. Yet the dream image was not an easy thing to dismiss. His soft brown eyes, so like the eyes of a forest deer, would be forever a part of her memories. He had been her beacon of hope amongst the threatening darkness. A spectral thief that had awakened, and then stolen, her heart.
	She clasped her trembling hands before her and tightened her grip. Taking a deep breath, she concluded, “He had seemed so real.”
	The Circlet continued to hum, but the song had changed. The air around her grew still. A voice whispered to her from where there should not have been one -- its soft breath brushing against her cheeks.
	The rays of the sun intensified bathing her in golden light, and a strangeness seized her. She gasped as an unknown presence joined spiritually with her, its lifeforce sending a shiver through her. Yet she felt no fear, only peace.
	The voice expanded, its presence burrowing deeper into her mind. Pictures formed, and she realized that she was seeing through some unknown’s eyes the white towers of her home -- the untouchable, tragically lost, Ra-Jee. The scenes began to flip, flashing in her mind, carrying her swiftly down someone else's memories.
	The presence walked past the towers and followed a path that ran parallel to a long, white wall. Stopping in front of a vine-covered section, a hand that was not her own rose before her eyes and parted the vegetation to reveal a door hidden beneath. The hand waved and the door opened, and she soon found herself descending stone steps that wound downward into an uncertain darkness. Footfalls echoed into the silence creating a lonely wail that went screaming out before her.
	Arriving at the last step, the unknown traversed a long, dark tunnel before entering into a great, round room with ancient markings covering the walls. In its center stood a massive jewel. She knew instinctively that this was the Crystal of the Ancients. She felt a sense of longing and of coming home when she looked upon it.
	The jewel’s inner heart pulsed loudly, radiating a fiery light that filled the room, generating a blinding glow. The light wrapped her spirit in tranquil warmth.
	The weary voice of the presence filled the chamber, “What am I to do?”
	She dared not move. She remained silent.
	“Prepare the way for the daughter of Ar-Ion! Help to seek out this plague,” sang the jewel in response.
	“I do not understand!” Ra-May cried, seeking to add her voice to the echoes of the other, but her voice remained trapped within her, the unknown held dominance in this reality.
	Now the Crystal’s light began to fade.
	“You must search until you find, lands of Man, the town, Doran. You must fulfill the legacy.”
	Fading...fading................
	The other was fading with the Crystal. She could feel its presence weakening even as it struggled to maintain their link. Try as it might, it was too weak.
	A chill raced up her spine as the unknown presence separated from her. Struggling to be heard above the wail of the wind, its hollow voice instructed, “Find him, daughter of Ar-Ion, he is waiting. Remember, you have known him once, deep within your dreams.”
	She opened her eyes. She was once again within her forest home. Released from the enchantment, but imbued with a rare certainty, she jumped to her feet and rushed to find Ra-Nu. The time for them to leave was near. Events were starting to move after being idle for so long, and they had to hasten if they were to answer the call. The entrance to and from their tiny world would soon open, a hunch she did not doubt, and she intended to be standing there waiting.
	‘I go in search of this Doran,’ she thought, ‘and my dream.’

Chapter Eight
Manhood

	The Grand Hall was decorated in high fashion, the adornment adding a touch of enchantment to an otherwise dull chamber. Fresh cut flowers and bright ivy, intertwined with satin ribbons of gold and blue, hung from every ceiling beam within the enormous area while the flawless surface of the hand-polished floor was ablaze with candlelight reflection.
	The banquet tables were heaped to overflowing with all manner of delectable delicacies: roasted, juicy goose; whole, succulent pigs, cooked with their skins still intact to seal the flavorful juices within; a large variety of game birds from the Royal Forests and mouth-watering meat pies, swimming in their own dark, spicy gravy.
	The ale was in abundance, cool and foamy, as well as chilled cider for those who preferred a less potent drink, with wine topping off the list of sweet drinks that would be served. Desserts of all types lay in wait on each and every table as the cooks of the Palace competed with each other to see who could come up with the fanciest dessert tray. No one, it seemed, would go without this cycle.
	Sitting prominently at the head of the Hall, the dais stood vacant. Guests had been seated and, like the empty dais, awaited the Royal family’s presence.
	Michall stood just outside the Grand Hall, out of sight of the many guests within. His cousin, Phillip, stood by him. From this vantage point he could observe without being seen, and that was the way he preferred it.
	“There seems to be a more than fair turn out, don’t you agree? It would appear that every lovely within the Kingdom has seen fit to honor you this cycle. Would that I could be in your place. Ah, what fun I would have.” Phillip laughed, nudging Michall in the ribs as he winked.
	His wink produced the desired effect, and he smiled as he watched Michall roll his eyes skyward.
	Rubbing his hands gleefully, Phillip continued, “My, won’t there be fun sport in this old Hall this eve?”
	“Phillip, your wolf’s fangs are showing. Do you suppose the moon has so soon, returned to full?” Michall said, laughing at the expression of wounded pride on his kin’s face.
	“Dear cousin, I wish to assure you that, regardless of personal danger, I shall be ever at your side this eve, keeping the young she-wolves fangs from your regal throat.”
	“Or,” Michall countered, “is it more like you wish to trap a few within your own?”
	 “I? Why, I would be a fool to stray too far from your side. My greatest ambition, at least just now, is to be always touching some part of your tall shadow while within that Hall. My dear, dumb Michall,” Phillip sighed for effect. “This eve, whether you realize it or not, every fair maiden in the land, and some who are not so comely, shall be flocking to your side. You’ll be completely surrounded, I fear.”
	“Oh, and why is that, dare I ask? Have I changed from midnight to morn? Do I now have some talisman that turns the ladies into muttering fools?” Michall asked, his sarcasm barely concealed.
	“No talisman, just one simple truth,” Phillip replied.
	“Which is?” Michall asked dryly.
	“Well, let’s see if I can put this in terms so that even one such as you may understand. Hmm, yes it can be said simply. You, dear boy, upon this Birthing cycle, are a man...and not just any man, no, but THE most eligible man in the Kingdom. Imagine, if you will, what a prize you must seem to them. Why, the maiden that catches your dark stare could become the next Princess of Doran, with all the privileges that title allows. Yes, you are a nice prize to be vying for, I think.”
	Michall scowled, but Phillip’s good humor could not be daunted.
	“They’ll be doing all sorts of interesting things to win your favor. In earnest, they may even try to capture your heart. Why, not only will they be crowned, but if they are lucky, they will have the devotion of the best looking man in the land. Not bad for a cycle’s work. I’d say your looks alone should be enough to get them in a flurry. Yes, I shall stay by your side this eve. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. May I have the throwbacks?”
	“Are you finished?”
	Phillip paused, his face grown serious. Then nodding, he said, “Yes, I think so, at least for the moment.”
	“Good! Now, you will listen to me. They don’t appear to be the calculating she-wolves you’ve just described,” Michall managed without letting his features slip into a grin. “I can’t imagine long fangs being hidden behind all those laced fans. Besides,” he shrugged, “I’d like to think I controlled the situation, and my heart, not a bunch of young maidens pulling invisible strings.”
	“Famous last words, if ever I heard any. I shall enjoy this celebration. It will be interesting to see who really rules...your head, your heart, or the one setting the trap.”
	“But, Michall, believe me, I do see your point,” Phillip said, looking up into Michall’s face, his own gone solemn. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe they are not she-wolves ready to lunge, but rather fat hens, ready to roost,” he concluded, bursting into merry laughter that rang out gaily into the Hall, causing all eyes to turn their way.
	“Well, see here, Michall, you’ve really done it now. They know we’re here and shall soon pounce upon us.”
	Phillip slapped his rather tall cousin between his board shoulders and bemoaned, “If only I could walk in your boots, what a grand time I would have. What a shame that it shall all be wasted on such a simpleton as yourself.”
	He flashed Michall one of his dazzling smiles before turning to enter the Hall.
	Just before seating himself, he turned his blonde head and winked one of his steel, blue eyes. Michall could see the mischief shining through those ‘all-to-innocent’ orbs.
	Phillip mouthed, “Remember, cast a long shadow.”
	Michall, whose eyes had taken on a hue darker than the deepest blues of his tunic, folded his muscled arms across his massive chest and casually leaned upon the door frame.
	He chuckled softly, “What a character you are, Phillip. Asking me to cast a long shadow, when it truth, I’ll need your shadow, just to find a dance. Every maiden in Doran, and some in neighboring Kingdoms, have heaved a breathless sigh when you, so merrily, strolled by. What I wouldn’t give to be so blessed by the sunlight. To carry it in my looks, instead of the darker shades of second cycle.”
	He shrugged, “We shall see who is right.”
	‘Of course,’ Michall thought ruefully, ‘Phillip would be seated between two very fair maidens.’ He noted how they lowered their eyes in a ladylike fashion and giggled behind laced fans as Phillip took his place.
	He knew that his kin had somehow arranged his seating, most likely enlisting the aid of Renne or Catlin. He knew his sisters’ weaknesses, and Phillip was one of them. He was a real devil when it came to the ladies...kin or not. Phillip always had the luck.
	He watched Phillip’s gestures, his hands adding action to some tale as he talked. A flash of golden tresses drew his eye. For a moment, he almost expected to see...but no, that was long ago. Instead, he found himself staring at the Lady seated to Phillip’s right. He admitted she was a rare beauty, just not the beauty he had wished for. She did possess sunlit tresses, much the same as Phillip’s, but owned pale, blue eyes that peeked out from behind her frilly fan. Not gold.
	Shaking off the melancholy that threatened to overtake him, he searched his mind to add a name to the face. ‘Ah, the Lady Marthee.’ Her father ran lands for King Mikam. Michall’s mother, Sarah, had mentioned her breeding to him recently.
	‘In fact,’ he smirked, ‘Mother has been mentioning a lot of ladies’ fine upbringing of late.’
	He supposed that it was time to find a bride. He knew his parents thought so. They’d certainly been dropping enough hints about it. He also knew that he couldn’t put it off for too long, but...what? Something always held him back.
	He stepped closer to the door and stared boldly at the Lady Marthee, who noticed immediately and blushed under his direct scrutiny.
	Phillip, noticing her sudden color, followed her gaze. With his crooked smile locked in place, he rubbed his hands together and turned to speak to the Lady seated at his left.
	Sighing, Michall turned his stare elsewhere. “If only,” he whispered, “her eyes shone with tints of gold.”
	Just then the Palace heralds filled the Hall with deafening trumpet blasts. Whatever his next thought would have been, it was completely shattered by the noise.
	The Head Footman walked regally into the Hall and announced, “Honored guests, his Royal Highness, King Mikam, and our lovely Queen Sarah welcome you.”
	The crowd rose in unison as the Royal couple entered. Michall prepared himself. The next calling would be for Renne, Catlin, and himself.
	Michall felt a light touch on his arm and smiled. Renne, her wild, auburn hair, now tamed and coiled high above her head, smiled back. Her gown, royal blue as was expected, hung loosely about her petite frame, the edges just brushing the floor. He knew she wore elevated slippers beneath the swaying hem, and piled her hair high, to give her the illusion of height. Yet, even with all the added extras, she barely reached his chin.
	Catlin stood ready at his other side, a taller duplicate of his oldest sibling. But unlike Renne, she needed no elevated slippers or hair stacked high. Catlin possessed natural height but remained shorter than himself. He thought both his sisters lovely, but guessed that Renne would always outshine Catlin. She was every inch the heir to Doran, and she knew it.
	He offered an arm to each of them and waited for the summons. He focused his eyes forward and watched his mother’s face as she climbed the dais. She really was beautiful. Somehow, she had managed to hold on to her youthful appearance even though the soft petals of girlhood had long since faded.
	Her hair held just a small trace of gray, but her figure remained willowy, never having grown full, as so many women did past their maidenhood.
	He glanced at his father standing dominate above the heads of his guests. He had not aged as well as Sarah. His middle had widened, and his hair was near as silver as the little pool in the glade. Yet he remained a powerful presence, a strong and willful mind sat upon his broad shoulders. Michall chuckled dryly, ‘and a stubborn one, as well.’ Many a man had rued the cycle they had locked horns with his father.
	As the King and Queen seated themselves, Michall centered himself within the portal. Framed on each side by his sisters, he looked down into the soft brown of their eyes and nodded. They both returned the gesture.
	The crowd had stood and bowed when his parents entered the room, and once they were seated, reseated themselves. Now they’d have to do it all over again when they entered. He sighed, ‘things could become so silly in the name of honor.’
	He heard the Herald announce them and thought again of all the pomp as he made ready to take his walk. He took a deep breath, painted on his most resplendent smile, squared his shoulders, and entered, escorting his siblings toward the dais.
	In no time his long strides carried them across the room and next to his parents. Having done what was expected of him, he heard his father announce, “Let the feast begin!”
	The room became a flutter of noises and sounds. Entertainers jumped gracefully into the Hall and began to dance and sing among the many tables while servants scurried about, their arms burdened by the chore of serving such a large gathering.
	Michall sat, toying with his food, only half listening to those around him, saying nothing. His mind was far away, seeing again Ra-Jee in all its glory and wishing to hold an enchantress, with sunlight living in her hair and gold shining in her eyes...

	“...Yes, a dream I myself have had from time to time,” the old man laughed, the sound more a wheeze than a chuckle. The children didn’t care, they just wanted him to continue...

Chapter Nine
Powerful Images

	King Mikam cleared his throat and stood. The Hall grew silent as all eyes turned toward him. He nodded to a nearby Page who, in response, bowed and quickly left the Hall.
	Michall recognized his father’s antics and immediately began to act out his part in their annual play.
	“Ah, my King, whatever could you be about?”
	“Oh, ho, the young pup does have a voice, does he?” his father laughed, but his tone told Michall that the remark had not been entirely in fun. “Shall you simply make a guess at what Birthing gift this cycle holds, or would you prefer a riddle instead?”
	Michall liked this new twist to an old game. “A riddle, I think. Spin me a tale so that I might try my skill.”
	“A riddle the lad does choose,” King Mikam echoed out to the crowd. “Then a riddle he shall have.”
	Turning to his beloved wife, King Mikam flourished his arms out before him and bowed, awarding her center stage. Smiling, she faced her son. Soft, yet musical, her words sang from her lips: “Polished with rays from the sun’s bright depths, born from a time that time forgets. It is a thing both mighty of song and strong of will, a champion of the weak, but with a warmth to drive away the chill. Long in shadow, it towers. Held in hand, it produces power.”
	‘Hmm,’ Michall thought, ‘that’s good; too good.’
	“Come, son, have you figured it out?” the King hooted.
	Michall shook his head.
	“I know.”
	It was Phillip. “Please, let me try to guess, my Prince?”
	Michall, even knowing it could be a huge mistake, invited, “Have your try, my fine fair one.”
	“Very well, I shall!” Phillip laughed, the impish look in his eyes alerting Michall that the jest was sure to be at his expense.
	“I believe that your most loving family has decided to gift you with a bride,” he declared. Then, without missing a beat, he continued, “And, I daresay, by the sounds of the riddle, she will be one whose shadow towers over you.”
	Michall turned eyes grown stormy upon him; usually enough warning to quiet him, but Phillip was just warming to his subject.
	“And I believe the fair hair of your bride to mean the sun and her voice so beguiling that your strong will shall soon be shattered. I also believe that her power, at least over you, shall soon grow.” Turning, Phillip met with Michall’s scalding stare, and knew it was time to retreat.
	Letting his smile fade, he said, “I’m sorry, my Queen, I just couldn’t resist a jab at my sulking kin. Please except my apologies, for I honestly have no idea what the answer could be.”
	Sarah leaned down so only Phillip could hear her whispered reply. “Dear Nephew, Court would not be the same if you were away. Such a naughty prankster. But still, I know that you are as close to my son as I, and would not wish him ill. You are forgiven...yet again.”
	A knowing grin formed as she stated loudly, “Perhaps on your next Birthing cycle, I can persuade your father to locate you a bride much like the one you would have chosen for Prince Michall.”
	“If it pleases my Queen, I will gladly except, but not until the prince has had his pick,” Phillip stammered. “I have no wish to deprive him of first choice.”
	Laughter filled the Hall. Phillip stood silent, his eyes shining a little less jovial. He knew when he was beaten.
	“Too late for you to guess now, my son,” the King roared, “Here comes the answer. I fear that after you have toted it around awhile, you may wish that we had given you a bride instead.” Leaning in close, he whispered to his son, “At least she could have traveled on her own.”
	The Page came forward and presented the King with an object bound in what one might call leather, although the guess was dubious. Riddled with deep cracks, it looked as if it would turn to dust if disturbed.
	The object passed quickly from the King’s hand to the Queen’s lap. Sarah ran her fingers over it in a gentle caress as she looked into her only son’s curious gaze.
	‘Beautiful eyes,’ she thought. ‘Deeply emotional; genuinely caring.’ But she knew that those same beautiful eyes were capable of turning cold and hard. Sometimes, when he was deep in thought she could see the muddled emotions rolling wildly across their shiny surface, and her heart would reach out to him.
	Her eyes shone brightly, her smile, warm, as she handed him the bundle. “Michall, here is your heritage, handed down from generation to generation. It has never been removed from its wrappings since its original owner placed it there. Your grandsire, many times removed, was the last to brandish it in battle when he lifted it high to fight for the hand of the Princess Dirina, female heir to the throne of Doran.”
	“Passed from female heir to female heir, it became nothing more than a symbol of ascension.”
	Michall shot an apprehensive look at his eldest sister, Renne. Raising a brow in question, he awaited her response. Her smile held no malice, she nodded.
	“Now,” Sarah said, her white hand inching the object free of its outer wrappings. “This cycle sees me gladly breaking with tradition as I deliver ‘Power’ into your hands. You...my last born, and the first male born in countless generations.”
	Michall held out his hands for his mother to place the leather-clad gift upon his upturned palm. His hands trembled slightly as he stared down at the ancient object.
	“My Prince, unbind it. I think all here would like to see a thing that has not seen the light of first cycle in hundreds of phasings,” Phillip shouted, having regained his voice.
	Many nodded in agreement.
	Michall looked down at the bundle that lay in his hands, the inner wrappings almost as riddled with cracks as the outer covering had been.
	Carefully, while all eyes focused on his hands, he began to withdraw it, the old leather sending dust across the table as he gently urged it into the light.
	Uncovered, he looked down upon its unnatural beauty. He raised the blade, and the Hall fell silent. It felt impossibly light, although its size implied great weight.
	Holding it before him, he noted the sculpted metal, long and lean. His hand closed over the hilt and met with a perfect fit. It was as if the sword had been ordered to his exact specifications.
	The pommel held an oval jewel no longer or wider than the base of one of his finger pads, yet it caught the light and drew the eye. It was set within metal etched with strange markings, winding randomly about it and trailing down the edge of the blade to form tiny, intricate spirals of perfection. Somewhere, he’d seen markings such as these. He thought that if he concentrated hard enough, he could remember, but the thought was fleeting.
	As he lowered it down to his side, he heard its whisper, the effortless slicing of the air producing a gentle hiss near his ear.
	“Behold, my son! The sword of Arthur, the ‘Blade of Power’,” King Mikam’s roar echoed out into the Hall. “Wear it well!” he advised. Then with a wink, he laughed, “But enough with gifting, I say let us proceed to the dancing!”
 	Keeping with tradition, the first dance went to the King and Queen, then the floor was opened to the guests and the true dancing began.
	Michall took a seat directly beneath the balcony overhang. With so many people within the chamber, the air felt thick and stifling. Catching a hint of the breezes swirling in through the open doors above him, he leaned back, sinking into the thick cushions. The wind’s invisible caresses washed over him, cooling his skin and revitalizing his senses, but did nothing to sate his emotional confusion.
	His Birthing gift haunted him. He didn’t know how, but the sword that had materialized within his long forgotten dream, and the one he’d received from his parents, was one and the same.
	‘Just as I have now grown to be the man in my dreams.’
	A shiver ran down his spine, causing him to shake with the sudden chill.
	“So, here you are, Michall. The ladies of Court had begun to pout when their young, handsome, and may I add, eligible, prince had not stepped out onto the dance floor.” Phillip grinned down upon Michall’s brooding face. “You know that you are letting me down when you fail to cast that long shadow of yours.”
	“Do you realize,” Michall stated dryly, “that one of the many benefits of being seated where I am is that I’m able to seem interested without really being so.”
	Turning, he scanned the rivalries with eyes that saw nothing.
	Phillip moved to Michall’s right and seated himself. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he said, “Interesting observation, but why so morose?” Concern creased his otherwise perfect features as he added, “This is your cycle, my friend. It is time to dance, drink and have a little sport. ‘Life’ is waiting for you to find it!”
	No reply.
	“Why, just look about you, Michall. The maidens, all so very, very fair, literally overflow the dance floor. You may have your pick. I’d be willing to bet my soul that they would fall all over themselves if you would just look their way.”
	“Yes, I suppose you’re right. At least about me being remiss. I really should be entertaining my guests. It is my duty as Host. It’s just that I feel so unsettled this eve. It’s as if I’m waiting for something to happen. What?” he shrugged. “I don’t know. I just have a feeling, call it a hunch, that keeps me distracted.”
	“Well,” Phillip chimed in merrily, “the only way something is going to happen is if you get up and make it happen.”
	Michall stood. Effecting a mood he didn’t feel, he slapped Phillip on the back and beckoned, “Come, second cycle is young. To the ladies, my comrade, there are battles to be fought.”
	“That’s the spirit, and won’t the fight be fun!”
	Wearing their best smiles, they cast their charm out to go before them as they roamed. It wasn’t long before they were surrounded by a flock of competing maidens, each reacting in the same manner, appearing to be created from the same mold, at least as far as Michall could discern. Each held a laced fan to hide their lower faces, all giggled fatuously, and all left him empty, longing for something more. Yet he maintained his mask of polite glamour.
	“Do you think he will ask you to dance?” the Lady Miry sighed, eyeing the prince from the edge of the flocking mass of females.
	“I should hope so!” Lady Marthee stated confidently. “I have sent him every signal I could manage.”
	“For shame,” Miry stated in mock disapproval. “You are nothing more than a common stable cat.”
	“Yes, I fear,” Marthee answered, a hiss escaping from her ever-present smile, “a cat with long claws. Once I have him within my grasp, I shall never release him.”
	She laughed, her smile flashing boldly across her face before she adjusted her fan. “Then, dear Miry, I alone shall possess the most sought after man in the Kingdom. Watch, even now my charms start his blood boiling. There will be no cooling for him until he has me, and I have his pledge.”
	“So self-assured?” admonished a voice from behind them. Marthee whirled to confront the spy and was startled to meet a familiar steel-blue stare.
	“Phillip,” she cooed. “Do not misunderstand my words. I am but playing a simple parlor game, nothing more.”
	Phillip strolled to her side and gently tucked her arm in his. Patting it softly, he escorted her toward the prince. He threw his shoulders back and held a steely smile in place as he drew closer to his kin.
	“Believe me, my Lady, not for even a moment, did I dare misunderstand your intentions.”
	He lowered his eyes and gave her a cool appraisal. With a smirk, he thought, ‘Let her wonder,’ and then, just as they were about to greet the prince, he leaned down to whisper in her ear.
	“Be careful how you lay your plot; Michall is not one to be easily taken in. You will have to be very cunning, indeed, to get past his defenses.”
	Marthee giggled behind her fan, “Do not worry yourself so, Phillip. Men are all the same. Promise them the moon, and they will think they are getting the stars as well.”
	Phillip smiled crookedly and queried, “And what will you offer a man who lacks for nothing?”
	“Heaven!” she sneered. “Sheer heaven!”
	Phillip shook his head, finding her boast brazen. Arriving at Michall’s side, he began the introductions.
	“At last, we have arrived. We fought our way through the crowd to safely arrive at the side of our beloved prince.” Phillip startled him with his mocking tone, and when Phillip bowed low as if he were a lowly servant, Michall took note and considered himself duly warned.
	“Oh, ho,” Michall commented. “Whatever could you be plotting my loyal, but crazed, kin?”
	“Only to steal a small moment of your time. I wish to present to you a lovely representative of the fairer gender.” Phillip winked. “Behold, the Lady Marthee. She of angelic face and form and so very much more. I shall warn you now, she will attempt to claim your heart, my fine dark one. It will be interesting to see who really becomes the conquered.”
	Marthee gave Phillip a rather acidic glare from behind her fan, then, extending her arm out in a lovely arc, she curtseyed before the Prince of Doran.
	Michall accepted her petite, gloved hand and gently raised her to her feet. He looked directly into her eyes as she peered out above the frilly lace of the ever-present fan, and lowered his lips to her fingertips to brush a kiss lightly over the silky fabric.

	‘She blushes quite skillfully,’ he thought. ‘I wonder if it is a natural reaction, or a practiced deception?’
	He knew this game...it was an old one, one he had no energy to play. He shrugged, forced to participate, he would wait and see how this one played.
	He noticed that the Lady was small in frame, actually short compared to his own height, yet not so short that he dwarfed her as she stood by his side.
	Smiling, Michall broke the awkward silence by asking, “Have you known Phillip long?”
	“I have. Our lands border.”
	“Ah, that would explain why I haven’t seen much of you here at Court. I’m sure that once Phillip discovered you lived next to him, he was reluctant to show you here, where other callers might whisk you away.”
	“You jest, my Prince?”
	Michall sighed, ‘This player plays like all the others. So then, shall I.’
	“Would you care to accompany me onto the dance floor, my Lady? It would strengthen my ego to be allowed to escort such a vision of loveliness in the dance.”
	She giggled, “I would be honored and most pleased, my Prince.”
	With the formalities behind them, Michall placed a hand beneath one of her elbows and guided her into the main stream of dancers. They fell into step without a hitch.
	She danced well, he noted, matching his stride step for step. She must have been instructed each waking cycle of her life for occasions such as this. Much the same as he had been, he supposed. Pitying her, he gave her a genuine smile. He failed to see the gleam spark in her eyes.
	They danced several sets before Marthee begged breathlessly, “Oh, my Prince, please. I regret I really must sit for a while. I plead exhaustion and feel the need for immediate refreshment.”
	“How inconsiderate of me,” Michall apologized. “Come, let me find you a place to rest, then I’ll go in search of something cool for you to drink.”
	He escorted her to a velvet covered couch and made sure she was comfortable before turning to weave his way back through the mulling crowd.
	Marthee watched him stroll away, his shoulders held straight, his walk filled with confidence. “Yes,” she mused. “By the end of my stay, his heart will be mine!”
	She was quite certain she would enjoy living in the palace. Just thinking about it sent her spirits soaring. With a smug smirk, she sank back into the rich velvets.
	Phillip cantered up with an unusually, lovely maiden on his arm and brought Marthee back into the realms of reality.
	“Lady Marthee, so at last I have found you. I was beginning to imagine that you had stolen my dear kin away from his own party.”
	“I must confess that I have been in the prince’s attendance, and I do admit it must seem that I have been a bit selfish. But in truth, it was he that demanded my time, not I, his. I do believe he is quite taken with me,” Marthee purred.
	“I can see how you’d feel that way,” Phillip stated flatly, one eyebrow cocked high. “Alas, I would love to stay and hear all about it, but the cycle grows late, and so, I fear I must bid you all ado,” he pouted, once again the charming fool. “I’m afraid that first cycle shall come far too early for me as it is.”
	“Oh, but you must wait until Michall returns. He would be upset if he couldn’t say his thanks to you in person,” Marthee cooed sweetly.
	Phillip noted how easily she now addressed the prince by his first name. “Oh, I don’t think he’ll be as upset as you lead me to believe. But, for you, and you alone, I shall wait and bid him a good eve.”
	They both spied Michall weaving his way back through the crowd at the same time. In his hands, he held the promised drinks. He looked up and saw them waiting. Raising the goblets above the heads of the crowd, he shrugged apologetically, trapped for the moment by the pressing mass.
	His gaze lingered on the Lady Marthee. ‘She has a surface charm,’ he thought, ‘so maybe I should take a closer look.’
	He wondered if he could coax her true self to the surface, and if he could, would he like what he found. ‘And does it really matter if we suit?’ He gripped the goblets tighter, not liking where his thoughts were going.
	Setting his shoulders square, he made a silent pledge to his heart, ‘I will not be lulled into a loveless marriage.’
	Many a good man had been fooled by a pretty face. He wanted more from a companion than the Lady had exhibited so far. She was missing something, something important, but he couldn’t quite fathom what it was. Maybe what was absent lay just below the surface. He felt sure he would recognize it as soon as it appeared. Then, and only then, would he give away his heart. Then his love would be fairly won.
	The maiden from his childhood dreams invaded his thoughts, her recalled loveliness producing a hollow ache within his chest. He acknowledged the missing element, and it saddened him. Lady Marthee could never be the enchantress that owned his heart, no human woman could. 

	Phillip stood as Michall approached. Charming as ever, he was right at home between the two ladies. They were seated just below the stairwell that led to the outer entrances. The upper doors were propped wide open so that the breezes could circulate into the Hall below.
	Michall had almost reached the trio when the wind turned savage, howling loudly as it wound its way down the stairwell. Its eerie whine chilled him, thinking it reminiscent of a lost soul. Skies previously star-filled and veiled in moonlight were now churning as black clouds hid the celestial backdrop. Lightning flashed, igniting the dark canopy with fire-filled fissures, followed by earsplitting thunder that threatened to shatter the windows surrounding the Hall.
	The wind blew the hair from his face, teasing him with its icy fingers. Every nerve in his body tingled as his gaze traveled up the stairwell to the landing.
	A very large man and a tall, slender girl stood there looking down upon the crowded Hall. The man was dressed in warrior gear from his head down to his leather footwear. Gold armbands were stretched tightly over his well-muscled forearms, winking and swirling the Hall’s light back at them. A leather band held long blonde hair away from his stern face.
	A sword as large as Power was strapped to his wide back, along with a bow and quiver of arrows to keep the sword company. His deep, blue eyes scanned the Hall in a menacing patrol, his every action telling all that he was the girl’s protector.
	Michall dropped the goblets, heedless of the mess, and bounded up the stairs two at a time.
	‘It’s her!’ his heart sang. ‘Here! She’s come here, to Doran. My golden enchantress is real and alive!’
	He reached the top of the stairs, and reached out to touch her, needing to see if she was truly there, yet afraid that she might fade away, but was halted by a beefy hand.
	Michall, who had always fancied himself tall, could not quite meet this great hulk eye-to-eye. He could do nothing but stand there and stare.
	Slowly, his dream extended her hand to him. Eyeing the giant cautiously, Michall reached out to accept it. She was real, he knew this when he felt her soft palm in his. She was alive and his heart was in flight, soaring to a height it had never been before and at the moment he didn’t care if it ever returned.
	He raised her hand to his lips, noting it was ungloved, pale, soft and wonderful. She smiled up into his fervent eyes. Her own -- filled with pure light, warm, inviting and overflowing with emotion -- seemed to shine for him, alone.
	In a voice so like a gentle breeze, she stated, “I have searched for you, my guardian of the pool and have, at last, found you.”
	Michall summoned his voice, praying it did not croak, “I have also known you, once upon a dream, by a pool of silver, beneath a golden mist.”
	Hands clasped tightly, they stood and stared into each other’s eyes. Ra-Nu finally broke the spell with a small nudge to Michall’s ribs.
	“I think, boy, that the others have begun to question your strange behavior.” He nodded at the crowd that stood in mass staring up at them.
	Michall cast the man a weary glance before extending his arm to his enchantress. Guiding her down the stairs, he continued on past Phillip and the ladies, past his confused parents, and countless, faceless others until he reached the dance floor. He pulled her into his arms and spirited her away from the pressing crowd. He didn’t see the others when they resumed the dance, for he was lost completely in the light of her golden eyes.
	He didn’t wish to share her with anyone. ‘Time enough, later,’ he thought with a grimace, ‘for questions that I have no answers to.’
	Ra-Nu followed them to the edge of the floor and stopped. There he remained, standing silent, watching.
	Marthee’s face had transformed into a mask of fury, red blotches appearing across her fair skin. Phillip stood speechless, rare for him, and stared at the beauty who had so easily captured Michall’s heart. He’d never seen another who could hold a candle to her exotic charms.
	“Where had the sly fox been hiding her?” he mused. Then he chuckled, admitting that if he’d discovered her first he would never have allowed her out of hiding. At least not until she was his completely.
	“Come, Marthee,” Phillip sighed, recovering his tongue. He extended his hand to her. “Shall we dance? I find that I’m not as tired as I once thought myself to be.”
	Marthee pouted as she accepted his arm.
	“Easy come,” he smiled as he patted her hand. “Easy go, my dear.”
	Marthee only walked by his side in silence.
	“I see that you have kept your promise,” Phillip chatted, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
	“Promise? What promise?” she sneered.
	“Why,” waving his hand in the direction that he’d last seen his kin. “Heaven, my sweet. You promised me you would deliver Michall sheer heaven, and for once, I believe you were right.”

Chapter Ten
Concerns

	“But dear, who is she?” Sarah asked. “Have you heard of her before?”
	“Sarah, my sweet. There is really no need to get yourself all agitated over a mere fancy,” Mikam sighed, even though he was quite sure the girl was hardly a passing infatuation.
	“Mikam, don’t you see? Michall is completely enchanted.” She pleaded for her husband to understand, “I, or shall I say we, don’t know anything about her, or that huge creature who follows her wherever she goes.”
	She practically leapt from the lounging cushions to pace nervously around the room. “My word! You’d think we were plotting her murder the way that man shadows her,” she said, her finger wagging under Mikam’s nose.
	“Sarah, for heaven’s sake, you’re sounding less reasonable by the minute.”
	Mikam rose and joined her, his heavy steps echoing loudly throughout their chamber. “You, yourself, have been after Michall to settle down. ‘Pick a bride,’ you said. ‘Have a family’. You’ve hinted and prodded at him for nigh on two phasings now.”
	She whirled on her husband. “With the right girl!” she shouted passionately while staring intently into his weary eyes. “Not with someone who just appears at your door, no background, no family, no anything...except a great hulking bear at her side!”
	A small grin played about his mouth as he stated rather matter-of-factly, “My sweet, I do believe that you’re feeling left out.”
	“Of course I’m feeling left out!” she stormed. “Michall never mentioned this girl, yet it is apparent that he has been consorting with her for quite some time. Did you see that look they exchanged on the landing?”
	“Yes, my sweet, it was the same look I had when I first laid eyes on you.”
	“You old fool! Quit trying to reroute the conversation,” Sarah spoke a sharp reprimand. “This is serious.”
	“Ah, but I’m being serious. I really must be frank here, and I know how you’re going to react, but aside from her unknown past, she is perfect for our son.”
	Sarah bore the look of a defeated woman as she slumped into her cushions. Throwing her hands skyward, she said, “It’s just, well, our son never kept any secrets from us before. Why now? Why would he hide her from us? If we really are talking about his so called ‘heart’s desire’, don’t you think he would have told us something?”
	“My sweet, who can say why! When it comes to matters of the heart, emotions don’t always play by the rules.”
	He lowered his bulk down with a sigh and enfolded her in his arms, “Only a fool would try to understand.”
	“But don’t you think we should talk to Michall! If for no other reason but to gain information about this girl.” Turning stunned eyes to Mikam, she gasped, “My goodness! I don’t even know her name!”
	Mikam shrugged. He didn’t have that piece of information either. “I’ll send a Page to Michall’s room and have him summoned at once. Possibly, then we can quench your curiosity.”
	“Thank you, Mikam.”

Chapter Eleven
Truths

	He hadn’t been able to sleep. He’d lain awake, tossing about within a bed suddenly grown too small. He still couldn’t quite believe that she was real. In fact, at first, he’d been afraid that she would fade away if he didn’t hold her near, serving as the anchor that held her earthbound.
	Mental images from the previous cycle flashed within his mind causing his chagrined laughter to fill the solemn chamber. He didn’t have to be a mind-reader to know what the Palace gossip would consist of come the dawn of first cycle. Speculations would be debated, assumptions made, and conclusions formed concerning the state of his mind, with many deciding that he had lost it. But they’d only be half right, because he’d lost his heart, as well.
	He knew what others said of him: ‘The dark, aloof prince! Always practical, never prone to flights of fancy.’
	How he must have shocked them to their very proper foundations with his less-than-dignified actions.
	The ‘brooding, dark prince, always proper and dignified,’ was a face he wore in public. Michall had always preferred to be alone, only allowing a few entry into his private world...his parents, his sisters, Renne and Catlin, and Phillip...but few others.
	As instructed from the cradle, his behavior was always that of Royal bearing. Rarely did his veil slip. He knew how to dine properly at the endless functions, converse and play up to whomever was hovering nearby, and act according to accepted, and expected, behavior. He’d been tutored by the finest in the land -- educationed, as well, in combat and weaponry, and had often been admired for his commanding presence in a practice duel. Phillip had taken the lessons one step further by teaching him how to play the ‘Ladies’ game.
	He’d taken his lessons to heart, learning quickly how to charm, making them feel as if his only thoughts were of them.
	In all the phasings since his one true rebellion, not once had he allowed himself to stray from his station. He’d never permitted himself to be anything but proper when in the company of others. ‘The Prince’ only became Michall when alone with his family. He could always let his guard down then. Hence, by portraying himself thus in public, he had gained the repetition as the ‘Dark Prince’.
	He laughed, shattering the stillness that blanketed him. “Never straying, at least not until she walked through those doors.”
	When he’d looked up to find her standing on the landing, all station and position abandoned him. He’d rushed headlong toward her, heedless of what others thought, his persona shed once he looked into her golden eyes.
	He sighed, “How quickly one’s breeding is forgotten when a wish comes knocking at your door.”
	“No matter,” he stated to no one, trying boldly to convince himself it was the truth. “It’s worth the scandal that is even now being created. She is here and she is real -- my enchantress!”
	She’d refused all titles before, or after, her name. “Just Ra-May,” she’d insisted. He spoke her name, letting each syllable drift out and fade away into the still gloom.
	At the close of the dance last eve, or had it been early morn, he didn’t know, he’d had the pleasure of escorting her to a chamber he’d ordered prepared. Wherever he’d led, her guardian, Ra-Nu, had followed. He had not spoken since they’d arrived, but he had no need, his silence was enough of a warning -- clearly stating, ‘Hands Off!’
	Michall made a mental promise: ‘I will be alone with my enchantress this cycle no matter what the great, hulking giant has to say about it.’ He hoped he managed to live through it. Laying his head back against the pillows, he began to format a plot that would achieve his goal.
	A knock sounded at his chamber door, scattering his concentration. He rose with reluctance and robed himself, suspecting it was a Page sent by his worried parents. He’d known by the looks on their faces last eve that they would call him to audience.
	“Yet another standoff in the life of a prince,” he sighed.
	Commanding the persistent knocker to enter, he stood ready to leave as soon as the summons was given. He was prepared to defend his actions and the rest be damned. But to his surprise it wasn’t a Page...but Phillip, leaning against the door frame as if he’d nothing better to do. In the corridor behind him, stood Ra-Nu.
	“Ah, good morn, cousin dear. I trust you slept well?”
	“No, and you know that, so why bother to ask?”
	“Why so grumpy, Michall? Look here, I’ve brought a guest to cheer you up.” He flipped back his head to acknowledge the giant standing behind him. “Might we come in? It really is rather drafty here in these old corridors.” Phillip laughed and without waiting for an invitation, strolled confidently into the room.
	Ra-Nu remained in the corridor, arms akimbo, silent and serious.
	“Please do come in, Ra-Nu,” Michall said, sweeping an arm toward his inner chambers. “No need for you to stand out in a drafty, old corridor, now is there?” This last statement was directed at Phillip rather then Ra-Nu. “Come in, do make yourself comfortable. Phillip will show you how, just follow his lead.”
	Still Ra-Nu stood motionless.
	Frustrated, Michall snarled, “Damn! Don’t just stand out there like some big ape. Get in here before the whole Palace is up and peering through my door.”
	The Warrior smirked as he strolled forward and disappeared into Michall’s private sleeping chambers. They heard a muffled plop, and realized that he’d made himself comfortable on the unmade bed.
	Grinning sheepishly, his eyes afire, Phillip followed Ra-Nu into the bedchamber. Groaning, Michall ran a hand through his tangled tresses and joined them.
	Phillip rolled his eyes at Michall as he entered and then turned them on the prone warrior lounging on the bed. Chuckling, he declared, “I do believe the big fellow likes you.”
	“Hush, Phillip. Don’t you ever tire of riding me?”
	He grew silent, his lips pursed against steepled fingers. After a few moments of careful thought he turned his fair face toward his prince, “No, not in the least.”
	He flashed another of his impish grins before continuing, “It’s a sport I’ve not tired of in all the phasings I’ve practiced it. But, Michall, don’t be so rude. Your rather large guest wants to have a chat with you. Do sit down and give him your full attention. I really must admit, I’m quite eager to hear what a man of so few words is about to say.”
	He slapped himself on the knee and laughed at his own weird humor.
	Michall, ignoring Phillip, took a seat on the window sill and turned his attention solely upon his strange, and somewhat surprising, visitor.
	Ra-Nu sat upon the bed and exchanged curious looks between Phillip and Michall. To Michall, it seemed as if Ra-Nu was weighing them in some unseen scale within his mind. Michall hoped that he came out ahead in this confrontation.
	Finally Ra-Nu focused his piercing eyes on the prince and thumbed in Phillip’s direction. “Can you trust one such as he?” Ra-Nu’s deep voice rang out, shattering the room’s silence with deep resounding tones.
	Phillip drew his hand to his chest as he feigned shocked dismay.
	“Phillip?” Michall questioned. “Yes, I think so. As far as I know, he has never given away my confidences.”
	Michall watched from the corner of his eye as Phillip’s expression fell.
	‘Good,’ Michall thought. ‘He needs to squirm from time-to-time.’
	Studying his kin openly, he hesitated before adding, “Yes, I believe that you can speak freely.”
	Phillip’s head bobbed up and down rapidly, assuring them that they could, indeed, trust him. Ra-Nu nodded in reply.
	Flashing a toothy grin, Phillip turned his attention on the larger man. Michall caught his eye with a shake of his head. His kin understood and wisely chose to remain quite.
	“I wish to speak about Ra-May. I want to explain why we are here, and where it is that we are going.”
	“Going?” Michall croaked. Leaping to his feet, he demanded, “Going where? You just arrived -- you can’t leave.”
	“Calm yourself, boy. We have not left yet, and you wail into the wind. Why is it that I am forever trying to teach patience to the young, especially since they seem to have no want of it?”
	He turned to Phillip, “I ask you, is not patience a faster way to the truth? When you lose control, do you not also lose the small footing you might have gained earlier?”
	“You’re asking me?” Phillip chuckled, “I’m one of the young ones, remember!”
	“Ah, but it takes patience to perform your craft. The endless string of jokes and jests...you must wait, judge and gather, until your trap is set, much like a hunter. Aye, you possess patience and are aware of time...he...,” nodding toward Michall, “has never learned to wait.”
	“Well, you know, these modern princes,” Phillip sighed, throwing his hands in the air as if to say, ‘What can a person do.’
	“Why don’t you two continue your evaluation of my character out in the corridor,” Michall interrupted rudely. “I’m sure I’ve better things to do than listen to the two of you compose lists of what I lack.”
	“Only patience,” Ra-Nu corrected. “You lack patience.”
	“Ha! I like this man, Michall.”
	“You would!” Michall snapped.
	“Not a man,” Ra-Nu corrected.
	“Excuse me?” Phillip questioned.
	“I said, not a man. I am not mortal, as your words imply.”
	“Bless my soul,” Phillip said in a subdued tone. “Dare I ask? Yes, I dare. What type of man are you?”
	Michall knew the answer and wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it spoken. His head ached, the persistent throbbing adding to his unease.
	“I am Elf.”
	“That’s good,” Phillip cooed drawing his ‘o’ out for effect. “I like that. Now tell me, what type of Elf are you, exactly?”
	Ra-Nu ignored Phillip and returned his attention to Michall. “My story is long. I bid you sit and listen. Do not interrupt and I will finish much sooner. When I am done, I will try to answer your questions. Then, Prince Michall, you will answer mine.”
	Michall didn’t miss the warning in Ra-Nu’s tone.
	Ra-Nu told them about the Kingdom of Ra-Jee and Princess Ra-May’s history. When he had finished, he sank back into silence.
	Phillip sat on the edge of his cushion and clapped his approval, “Wonderful! I’ve never heard a better story in all my phasings.”
	“You, my friend, have taken up the wrong profession. You missed your true calling in this life. You should be telling stories at Court, not wasting your time with all this warrior nonsense. There really isn’t much calling now for warriors of your age.”
	Michall stood silent, a faraway look glazing his eyes. He focused on nothing, yet saw much. “It’s no Fairy Tale, Phillip.”
	Phillip turned, “Surely you don’t believe him?”
	“I do.”
	“Hum, then I guess I shall have to hear more,” he answered, waving a hand impatiently for Ra-Nu to continue.
	“I have come here to tell you our past, even though I am led to believe that you, princeling, are already familiar with it.”
	Phillip turned questioning eyes to his kin. Michall ignored him.
	Ra-Nu took it as a sign to continue. “I wished the whole story presented to you. It is important that you know all details before we leave.”
	“Again you tell me you’re planning to leave,” Michall stated flatly. “Yet you fail to tell me where you’re planning to go.”
	“We will go wherever it is that you lead us.”
	“What?” Michall snapped much too quickly. “Where I plan to take you? I asked you.” His nerves felt as if they were about to snap. “Maybe I’m crazy and this is probably just a dream. No, I stand corrected, this is a nightmare. I really don’t know what you’re talking about. As far as I’m concerned, you both can stay here. Yes, that’s where I’ll lead you, here, with Ra-May at my side. That’s really all I want. So if you’re waiting for some profound decision from me, you’re going to be very disappointed.”
	Even as he spoke, he knew his words rang untrue.
	Ra-Nu stood. “We shall stay here but a short while, our time is running out,” he stated simply. “You, princeling, must search your mind. Clear it of all worries and think only of Ra-May and her plight. The answers will come. You, alone, hold the key.”
	He moved to leave but stopped, cocking his head toward Michall, he added, “We shall await your answer in our chambers.”
	Having spoken his mind, he moved to the door, his footfalls silent, his movements light...airy...and disappeared.
	“My, my, Michall, I really think second thoughts are in order before marrying into that family,” Phillip piped in. “I do believe that they have been around the bend more than a few times.” He punctuated his words by drawing circles around his head with his finger.
	“Phillip, for once, no puns. I know his tale is true. I know that something, evil?...I’m not sure how to describe it...is stalking them. I think that I might know what it is that they are about to attempt.”
	“Michall, just who, or what, are they really?”
	“They are as he stated...Elves...a Race that our people say only existed in our minds.” Michall sank down on the sill seat again with a heavy sigh. “Unfortunately, they are all that’s left of their Race.”
	“Then how do you fit into all this, and what do you plan to do?”
	“I plan to accompany them. Lead them somewhere, I guess.”
	“Accompany them where? To your death, and theirs?”
	“No, not to their deaths, at least I hope not. Yet, I fear I can deny her nothing...not even my death...if that is what it takes to see her safe.”
	“Michall, I’m not sure I can believe this absurd tale. I believe that you do, and,” he added, “I believe that you’re love-struck and not thinking clearly. Think about your parents. What will they say? Think this over before you rush off and do something irrational!” By now Phillip was on his feet preaching as he paced the chamber.
	“Think, man! If you believe his tale then that leaves me with only one opinion.”
	“Which is?” Michall eyed him with deadly intention.
	“Well, that’s a simple question and I really have a simple solution...it’s their problem. This Del-whatever didn’t attack you, he wanted them. It’s pure suicide if you don’t realize that you’re not involved.”
	Michall reached out to his frantic kin, placing his hands firmly on his shoulders, the gesture intended to calm him. “Listen to me, Phillip. Just ease up for a moment and really hear me. I go because I must. You do understand about obligation, don’t you?”
	Phillip nodded.
	“Well, it is my obligation to take these two onward. I don’t know why I’m so certain, but I do not doubt it. It’s the next, necessary step in my life.”
	Phillip stood silent, quietly mulling things over in his mind. It was quite unnerving for Michall to witness complete and utter silence from a man who thrived on constant prattle.
	At last, Phillip shrugged and threw his hands up in defeat. “So it seems that your mind is set. I can see now that I have no other recourse but to tag along and keep you out of harm’s way.”
	“I can’t ask that of you.”
	“Oh, I’m still not sure your worthless hide is worthy of my concern, but we shall see as our little journey progresses.”
	Michall shook his head to deny him. “It’s not your obligation to forever follow my whims. I’m not even sure of our destination, or what awaits us when we get there. I couldn’t risk you so heedlessly.”
	“Ah...I see. First, let me clarify things a bit. You didn’t ask me, I volunteered. Secondly, I truly love to follow you about. Who else would I needle if you weren’t here? The King? I think not.” He grinned, “Also, since you didn’t ask, that makes it all the more tantalizing. Do you really think that I’m going to let you have all the fun? Shame on you!”
	Michall laughed. Reaching over, he thumped him on his back. “It’s done then. We’ll ride out to who knows where, with our swords offered in protection to the fair maiden.”
	“Elf,” Phillip corrected.
	“Yes, that’s true. Oh, and one more thing, Phillip. Before we leave, let me remind you that the fair maiden is spoken for...and who it is that has done the speaking.”
	“Elf,” he corrected again. “Just you remember, dear fellow,” he smirked. “Her watchdog has a long, long leash, and dare I say, I noticed rather long fangs.”
	They began to make plans for their adventure. Both silently dreading what lay ahead in their unknown future, but neither one willing to admit that dread...

	“...And an interesting future they may have,” sang the Storyteller in covert tones. “Very interesting, indeed...”

Chapter Twelve
Doubts

	“I remain unsure, Ra-May,” Ra-Nu stated flatly. “I think he will not come with us.”
	“He will come, Ra-Nu.”
	“You were not there. When I left him, he appeared reluctant.”
	“He will come.”
	“Sprite, would you mind telling me what makes you so certain?”
	“Simply put, I know it to be true. He will join us for he must. He is the ‘Holder of the Times’, his eyes see through the mists of countless phasings. The path is clearly marked for one such as he.”
	She turned to face Ra-Nu, her face a mask of serenity, and continued, “My faith in the Crystal gives me this belief. He will come.”
  Ra-Nu’s mouth fell open, her composure momentarily silencing any arguments he might have made. She had, somehow, somewhere, obtained the balance he had been preaching about for an eternity.
	Challenged, he could not remain quiet. “Ra-May, when did you become so practiced in mere patience?”
	“Patience?” she said somewhat dreamily. “Is this feeling called patience? Is this the emotion that you have been lecturing to me about for all my phasings? Is this calmness that has encircled me, patience?”
	“Aye,” he said somewhat sternly. “It is!”
	“Ra-Nu, it seems that a hearty congratulations is in order. Your small pupil has finely passed her lessons.” She reached up and hugged him.
	“I think that you have begun to feel something more than mere patience,” he grumped.
	She laughed softly and turned away to gaze out the window, her movements refined and graceful. “Thank you, Ra-Nu.”
	“For what? Spoiling you?” He mumbled, uncomfortable with the turn in their conversation. 
	“Nay, I say thank you for all you have done for me. You have raised me as your own, given me security and warmth. All I am, I owe to you. For this, I wish to thank you.”
	Turning back, she wrapped her arms around his waist and looked into his crystal blue eyes. “It is just that I have never expressed how wonderful I think you are. It is time.”
	Overwhelmed, his cheeks stained pink, he stammered, “You honor this old Elf, Sprite. If the truth be known, it is you who gives the most in our relationship. You have been, and ever shall be, more to me than I could ever be to you.”
	“Oh? How so?” she asked, flashing him a grin, accompanied by a wink.
	Ra-Nu smiled down at her upturned face, “Why, my little Sprite, you have given me sunshine and a will to continue when there were times I would rather have given up. You have always been my reason for waking each cycle.”
	“Which brings us to a new lesson,” he rather gruffly rearranged the direction of their conversation.
	“By the Ancients, how can there be more to learn? My mind will surely explode from your constant assault upon it.”
	He ignored her barb, squaring his shoulders in a commanding stance, he stated gruffly, “This cycle, I think I should instruct you about men.” ‘Or, I think, at least, one in general,’ he thought.
	“Ah, this I am eager to learn.”
	“That is what I feared,” he sighed and began to pace nervously.
	Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Men, or Michall...,” he stammered. “He is...”
	“Aye, do go on, I am all ears,” she teased placing hands along side her small, slightly pointed ones.
	“You are making this hard, Ra-May!” Ra-Nu warned.
	“I am? Then I am sorry, Ra-Nu. Please, continue.”
	“He is a man and...well, he is bound to feel attracted to you and...”
	“I hope so,” she interrupted him yet again.
	“Sprite,” Ra-Nu hissed in exasperation. “Try to refrain yourself and listen to me! This journey that we are about to embark upon will require your full attention if we hope to avoid disaster. I cannot risk you being starry-eyed and moonstruck when your life could be the price asked.”
	Ra-Nu bellowed loudly as he paced back and forth around the room. Occasionally, he would slam his fist into his open palm, punctuating a certain point with the action.
	“Ra-Nu, please relax and sit down. Please, do not worry so!”
	“Do not worry, you say? Do not worry! You seem to forget, young one, that I am a male too, and as one, I think I qualify to report just what that young man is thinking. I know what I see and I tell you there is no room for romance on this journey. No room!” He preached and paced with even greater vigor.
	“Ra-Nu, I promise you that I will behave to the best of my abilities.”
	“Ha! That is what I am afraid of!”
	“Ra-Nu. Try to understand. He and I are linked in a way I cannot define. We are bonded already, even though the words have not been spoken. Let me revel in the light for just a while, it is so warm and caressing. All will be fine, trust me.”
	“Ump!”
	“Oh, Ra-Nu,” Ra-May laughed, sensing that she was winning him over, even if the battle was progressing slowly.
	Ra-Nu continued to mumble but now more to himself. “All will be fine, she says. I begin a journey to who knows where, because of who knows why, with a golden-eyed, moonstruck calf and a buck who is untried, and she sits there and tells me, ‘All will be fine!’ -- ump.”
	Ra-May folded her hands upon her lap and waited. She grinned, keeping her head bent so he would not see the humor his antics produced.
	He continued to pace around their chamber, one balled fist smacking repeatedly into the upturned palm of his other hand. His complaints now little more than a growl.
	‘Time would tell,’ she thought, ‘when all concerned will have their answers, all involved able to see the truth of the searching questions that they have asked.’
	‘I am no fool, my faithful Ra-Nu,’ she silently confirmed, ‘and I understand well that the survival of our homeland depends upon me.’
	Nothing would sway her from her chosen path. She had made herself a promise to destroy the darkness that had extinguished the light. Any other outcome was unthinkable...

	“...Unthinkable, but was it possible?” asked the old man. “We shall see...”

Chapter Thirteen
Confrontation

	“You seem somewhat frayed,” Mikam chuckled. “I would have allowed you more time to prepare if I’d known you were so ‘out-of-sorts’.”
	Michall remained standing, tall and rigid, prepared for the confrontation he knew was about to take place. He wasn’t willing to give ground this time, no matter what they threatened. His stern expression lent credence to his convictions.
	Mikam grimaced inwardly. ‘Last cycle,’ he thought, ‘was a little less complicated.’
	Silk drapes encircled the chambers, the light material being swayed gently by cool breezes wafting in from the veranda. Michall’s stare rested upon the billowy fabric as it floated effortlessly across the window openings. He envied them their carefree flight.
	The storm that had waged over Doran last eve had moved on, leaving the cycle clear and promising. The only storm brewing now was the one inside the King’s chamber. Michall wondered if he wasn’t the lightning rod that would pull the fire down upon them all.
	Sarah had remained quiet, sitting on her bed when Michall had entered. Now she rose and took his hand, “Come, sit with us. We have much to discuss.”
	“Yes,” Michall agreed. “I think that would be best.”
	She looked into her son’s face and quickly turned wide eyes toward her husband.
	‘Oh dear,’ she thought, wringing her hands before her. ‘This is going to be more than a simple question and answer session.’
	She felt a small tear in her heart and clutched her chest in response. She ached, grieving the loss of one of her babes. This cycle showed her something she’d not wished to acknowledge...the boy had become a man.
	Michall waited for his mother to be reseated then he lowered his tall frame down upon the throw cushions near her but positioned directly across from them.
	Mikam took a deep breath and asked, “Now, who’ll be first?”
	“I think it should be you, Father. Mine will keep until you’re through.”
	“Very well,” Mikam agreed. “Then I’ll start.”
	He paused, searching his mind for the right approach to take. This was a delicate matter, and he didn’t want to push his son away.
	“Although I’m sure I need not ask, but as your father, I am compelled to,” he continued “...as I hope you will understand and feel compelled to answer...”
	Michall interrupted, “I will answer all that I can, truthfully, to the best of my abilities, Sire.”
	‘So formal,’ Mikam thought. Out loud, he stated, “That is good to hear. It is all I could ask for. First, I would like to know precisely  who the charming creature is you whisked in here last eve?”
	“Her name is Ra-May.”
	“Ra-May what? Michall, you’re being somewhat elusive in your so called honesty,” Sarah piped in.
	“Excuse me, Mother. She is known formally as Princess Ra-May.”
	“A princess, you say?” his father chimed in. “Princess of what land?” He didn’t miss the new scowl that crossed his son’s somber features. “Is she the ruler of only your heart, or does she hold other things of value, as well?” Mikam hadn’t been able to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
	“Father, you’ve asked me to answer, and I have complied,” Michall stated, his tone bland. “She is a princess, and yes, if the truth is to be stated, she commands my heart, yet she can lay claim to a Kingdom. Please, don’t dismiss her so lightly!”
	Mikam redirected the conversation, recognizing the stubborn look on his son’s face. “So, it seems that the young buck has found himself a doe,” Mikam laughed, the sound vibrating loudly throughout the chamber, “What is your next step?”
	“I don’t think that I understand your question.”
	“Michall, your father wants to know your intentions toward this girl.” Sarah nearly screamed as she glared at her husband. It didn’t seem that they were getting anywhere with Mikam’s line of questioning.
	“Mother, I can’t...”
	“Michall,” Sarah, not wishing to hear further nonsense, cut him off. Taking control, she snapped, “Your vagueness is beginning to grate upon my nerves. I want straight talk from you right now, young man, and no more of this elusive prattle. I will not be sidestepped by my own son.”
	Michall answered her in a calm, clear voice, “The truth is, she came to me in hopes that I’d escort her to her next destination, providing her with my protection. To answer your unspoken question,” he sighed, leveling them with a determined glare, “I’d wed her in a moment’s notice if she would let it be known she was willing.”
	“Why you? Are you somehow indebted to her?” Mikam countered, trying to regain control of the situation. “Some small misdeed from your past, perhaps?”
	Michall shook his head in denial. It was hard to make them understand his reasoning without sounding like a bewitched fool. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure he understood himself.
	“Son, you sit there and tell me that the girl possesses your heart, yet you fail to explain to us how or when she came to own it.”
	The King’s voice rose, and his face reddened, “Also, a point you don’t even try to cover is if this Ra-May has a kingdom, where are her armies? Why does she need you to protect her?”
	“Mother, Father, let me just say this for lack of a better explanation: she holds my heart and has for a very long time. I alone can take her to her destination. Her calls are to me and I must answer them. I’m the only human that she trusts, and it must be me who takes her forward. Call it preordained, if you want. I tell you this now, hoping that we may be done with this discussion as soon as possible. After this cycle, I will not be here to continue it.”
	“What?” Mikam and Sarah shouted in unison.
	“Come first cycle, I’ll lead them onward. Time, I feel, is of the essence. It has been gently conveyed to me not to waste it.”
	“Michall, we can’t stop you as you’re now a man full grown. Although I personally don’t think you’re acting as one right now. I can tell you though, that I disapprove. Something so steeped in mystery puts me on edge. Make no mistake that I believe you have told the full truth here. Somehow, you’ve managed to skim only around the edges.” Mikam groaned in defeat. “Go then. Even go with some of my blessings, only promise me you will return.”
	“Thank you, Father, for trying to understand,” Michall said as he rose, bowed and turned toward the door. Before he reached it, he heard his mother call out.
	“I shall miss you, my son.”
	A small tear escaped one of her eyes and glistened as it caught the rays from the early sun. Her voice shook as she offered, “When you return, I shall endeavor to make her welcome.”
	“Thank you, Mother. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. It’s nothing more than a simple ride to the western lands.”
	‘Now, where had that fact come from?’ he wondered.
	“Ride swiftly and return quickly,” she called to him.
	“I hear your words and will try to obey. There is no worry about returning as quickly as possible, Phillip wouldn’t allow me to keep him from Court for too long,” Michall laughingly replied as he tried to make light of his approaching journey. He could see the hurt he was causing them, it was written clearly in their eyes, yet the hurt couldn’t be avoided.
	He crossed the room and hugged his mother, needing her warmth as much as wanting to give his own to her. He bowed to his father and then turned and fled the room.
	Guilt was his only companion as he walked down the silent, dark hall. Within his chamber again, he sat upon the window sill and gazed out into the courtyard. All was quiet within his inner sanctuary. Within the room he’d just vacated, a similar quiet was overwhelming his parents.
	Mikam and Sarah sat facing each other, saying nothing. Each replaying over and over again the conversation they’d just had with Michall. At least, all that they had understood. Each silently came to the same conclusion: they had understood nothing -- nothing except that Michall was leaving. They sought each other with their eyes.
	Sarah reached out to her husband and wrapped herself in his strength. For a moment, all was calm...until reality set in. As one, they raised their eyes to the other, their whispery voices speaking in unison, “Phillip? Oh no!”

Chapter Fourteen
Departure

	The air was curtained heavily with fog. The sun had barely begun its required climb, appearing just below the outer edges of the eastern skies, and doing little to dispel the veil of mist that clung stubbornly to the ground.
	The tentative rays would soon begin in earnest to push the mist back into the realms of middle darkness. But for now, the land remained caught in the grips of both cycles.
	Tiny droplets of dew fought to cling tightly to the manicured lawns and creeping vines that made their home within the main courtyard. It seemed a magical time as the air echoed each sound, amplifying it, making it seem larger, mesmerizing any who witnessed this spell of nature.
	Michall noticed none of the wonder unfolding before him as he sat at his window, gazing outward but focusing on nothing.
	During second cycle last, he’d personally seen to the provisions that would be needed for the upcoming journey. Mounts had been hand picked, all necessary food stores and clothing had been packed, and grain stowed for the horses in case they could find no fodder along the path.
	He thought that he’d covered everything, yet it was hard to plan when one wasn’t completely sure where one was going, nor how long one would be gone. He’d finally opted for only necessary items, hoping to buy, or hunt, for whatever else might be needed along the way.
	‘Phillip will most assuredly scowl at the arrangements,’ he thought with a slight grin. ‘Phillip does so love his creature comforts. It will be interesting to witness what he chooses to cart along.’
	He rubbed his brow and blinked several times. His eyelids slid over watery eyes, grating roughly upon the tenderness beneath. Having tossed and turned for most of yet another cycle, he’d given up all hope of sleep and surrendered the pretense. After rising from his bed, he’d made his way to the window sill and sank into the coolness of the prevailing shadows. There, within its depth he found a small measure of comfort.
	There, sitting in the darkness with only the moon shadow to aid him, he’d allowed his mind to be occupied with the upcoming journey. They planned to ride at dawn. But ride where? Somewhere within the western lands if his instincts spoke true.
	Why he was so sure, eluded him. He still had no clue as to which area in the west they would go. ‘And now,’ he noted, gazing out the window, ‘here hails the sun to announce the cycle, even while I continue to be confronted by doubt.’
	He looked out the window, beyond the palace grounds, in the direction of the Royal Forest, longing for the secure serenity of his little pool. Unnoticed, an aura of magic gathered about him, silently weaving its invisible webs. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass and yawned. Soon, he found himself within an ephemeral world, his longings answered.
	He stood alone, staring into the pool’s mirrored surface and wasn’t surprised when it began to ripple and change. The water rolled back upon itself, creating a sort of tunnel that, at first, appeared bottomless. Then a small light began to build in its center and traveled up the length of the deep hole, reaching out to envelope him in its warm embrace.
	Once bathed within its glow, a bodiless voice instructed, “Look upon what I now show you, young Prince. You are a mortal and as such, must search harder for the inner sight. You must look deep within yourself to find the answers you seek.”
	Michall obeyed. Looking, he understood, the destination, shown clear and pristine, became permanently etched upon his mind.
	“West,” he said, as he’d somehow known, “to the water lands of Sol.”
	The pool began to reshape, creating rolling waves as the water folded in upon itself.
	The silky voice ebbed, losing strength, “Choose your path carefully, my Prince, for evil’s roaming eye sees all! Be on guard even in the calmest of times, expect the unexpected to lurk where you step. Darkness will swallow you and all you love if you fail to heed my warnings,” the parting words implored before fading back into the silence it was born of.
	As he watched, the silvery liquid slid, easing back into graceful perfection. He remained standing, staring into its depths. Then the ground tipped, jolting him back into his reality, and he awoke, banging his head against the window pane as he did.
	He ran a shaky hand through his disheveled locks and stood, flexing cramped muscles, moaning at their stiff protests. “Wonderful,” he mumbled. “I’ll be saddle-sore before I’ve even seen one.”
	He shook his head and pulled his lips into a grin that was tight, cynical at best. Disturbing the calmness of his chamber, he groaned, “I now know the way, I assume, if one believes in dreams.”
	He dressed quickly and made one last sweep of the chamber before settling his sheathed sword to ride between his shoulder blades, silently strolling through the door.
	Making his way down the dim hallway, berating himself for not bringing a taper to see by, he moved in the direction of Ra-May’s chambers. Although the sun was on the rise, within the inner sanctuary of the Palace darkness still prevailed.
	He reached his destination without bruising his shins and rapped lightly on the solid wooden door. No answer came. He knocked harder but remained unrewarded.
	Scowling, he twisted the handle and entered. No one was within.
	Retreating, he made his way back into the hall. No longer concerned with stealth, his long strides echoed noisily through the vacant corridors, each footfall punctuating his haste.
	Michall rounded the stairwell and took the steps two at a time. Once on the ground floor, he turned, making a thorough scan of the Grand Hall. He saw no signs of his companions passing.
	He pivoted, intending to make for the outer bailey, his thoughts skimming the edges of fear. ‘What if this Del-a-Shar has found them already? What then?’
	He could feel his pulse quicken. 
	He made to leave but was halted in mid-step when someone called out, the sound echoing from deep within the dusky corners of the Hall. He swung sharply toward the voice, his muscles tense, ready to pounce.
	“My Prince, won’t you please wait? I’m so glad that I finally caught up with you,” Marthee sighed as she struggled to catch her breath.
	She drew nearer, her face displaying a pitiful pout. “It seems one must rise rather early -- why even before the cock -- just to spend time with you.”
	Clenching his teeth hard enough to stiffen his jaw, Michall bowed, accepting her extended hand. ‘I have no time for courtly behavior,’ he thought.
	He sighed, his impatience showing in the quick, darting motions of his eyes. His training, too deeply ingrained, prevailed. ‘You are a Prince,’ his father’s voice instructed in his mind, ‘so act like one!’
	He fought against his impulse to be away as he lowered his lips to her extended hand. She dropped her lashes, shielding her eyes from him while exposing the reddening of her cheeks.
	Michall smiled, absently performing as expected while his thoughts summoned up a vision of Ra-May. He didn’t think he could ever play the games of Court again with any real zest. Once shown the joys of innocent, natural emotion, without all the calculating games, it would be hard to return to the masquerades.
	“Tell me,” Marthee begged, drawing her lips into yet another feminine pout, “Why have you been avoiding me, my Prince? Have I displeased you in some way?”
	“No, nothing like that,” Michall absently assured her even as he thought, ‘I must tread softly here. It’s not my intent to trod upon her feelings.’ “How could one so fair ever displease me?”
	“I’m so glad to hear you say this, my Prince. I worried that it was I you found fault with. It was not my wish to offend.”
	“The fault is mine, I fear.”
	Michall slide smoothly into Court talk without even being aware that he did so, while his eyes roved, constantly scanning the area before him for his missing companions. “I’m afraid that I must journey this cycle and my mind has been occupied with my trip. That is all. Unfortunately, it has made me a poor host.”
	Clutching his arm, Marthee nearly screeched, “You leave? What could be so urgent that you must leave now, while the Palace nearly overflows with your guests?”
	Then, her eyes narrowed into almond slits, she pried further, “Is there unanticipated trouble in paradise?”
	‘I am suppose to be occupying your thoughts,’ she thought, ‘not that little chit you’re escorting about the Palace. You are mine! I won’t step aside for another.’
	‘After they’d wed,’ she mused, tapping a long tapered nail against her lips, ‘well, then he could have his flings but not now. Why, all I need is this time alone with him to set my plan in motion. If I can get him to a secluded place, then no one will be able to call my lies false.’
	It was a well thought out plan, and she knew he was too much of a gentleman to deface her in public. His very nature proclaimed honor. ‘He would be hers and there was nothing that his little chit could do about it. He couldn’t leave now! It would spoil everything.’
	‘Ah,’ Michall thought, watching the play of emotions cross her face. ‘I begin to see the claws you’ve kept hidden from me.’
	Undaunted, he replied, “No, no, it’s nothing to do with trouble, dear lady. There is nothing to worry about. My journey is little more than a small matter that I must personally attend to.”
	Michall held her petite arm draped over his much larger one as he skillfully maneuvered her toward the doors.
	Once they had attained the courtyard, Michall scanned about. He felt Marthee tug on his arm, her steps trying to lead him toward the Palace gardens.
	He resisted. There was no time for leisurely strolls. Worry marred his features when he saw no sign of Ra-May or the others.
	Just as he was about to dismiss Marthee so that he could move faster, he heard a loud snort. Swinging sharply, he nearly knocked the lady off her feet in his haste.
	“Well, I see that the Royal lazybones has seen fit to grace us with his presence.” This said to the others by Phillip, as he sat casually upon a pale, creamy Courser.
	He smiled wickedly down at Michall and Marthee, “We had begun to wonder if you had forgotten us, and our little outing, all together, dear boy.”
	Michall’s features relaxed, the stress draining away as he took in their appearances. But worry was rapidly being replaced with a new sensation.
	From the corner of his eye he watched the same emotion play across Marthee’s face.
	Phillip sat his favorite mount, dressed in a simple riding tunic and breeks. And that was the only simple thing about any of them. His gentle kin had chosen to carry both sword and bow strapped in a crisscross pattern across his finely muscled back, worn in identical fashion to Ra-Nu. Although the Elfen Warrior’s seemed to be of a larger mold.
	That Elfen giant sat astride a rather large Stallion. In fact, it happened to be one of the largest that the Royal stables had to offer. His dress was as Michall had expected, brown leather tunic, gold bands around both his massive biceps and leather for his brow, which Michall thought made Ra-Nu appear extremely intimidating in the early light of First cycle.
	Behind him stood a beautiful, gray mare, which Michall had chosen especially for Ra-May. His thoughts at the time were that the Gray would make a perfect horse for a Lady, but now as he looked up to the lady in question, he wasn’t at all sure he’d made the right choice. It was obvious now that she needed no pampering. 
	She was dressed as Ra-Nu: brown leather tunic with a smooth pair of riding pants to match, knee-high boots, and soft, short leather gloves. Her tunic had been fashioned sleeveless, showing well-shaped arms, the biceps wrapped tightly with golden bands.
	Her long, flaxen hair had been intertwined with leather strips and traveled in a long line down her fine, straight back. The gold Circlet rode across her brow, gathering the early sun, sending its rays winking merrily his way each time she turned her head.
	She sat her mount, her body relaxed, while her silence suggested, “Come, we are ready.”
	He noted that she carried bow and arrow upon her slight frame too. A short sword rode comfortably along her thigh, sheathed in fine leather. In fact, they all carried the short swords. If he’d been a traveler, and met them on the path, he knew he’d have thought twice before confronting them.
	Lady Marthee took in the trio before her and gasped, “Michall, what is this? Are we in danger here?” Barely catching her breath, she continued her ranting, “What, may I ask, is she doing here? Surely she is not one of your traveling companions? I’m afraid I really must object to these plans!”
	Her voice rose, becoming high-pitched and irrational. She would soon be hysterical. Her words disturbed Michall. The woman was acting as if she owned him. He couldn’t remember ever committing to her. For that matter, he didn’t know now what it had been that he’d found attractive to begin with.
	“No, we are safe here,” he said as he patted her hand. It was the only gesture he knew that seemed to reassure the Ladies of Court. “As I stated before, there is nothing here to worry about.”
	To himself, he fretted, ‘All I need now would be for her to cry and send a false alarm to the guards!’
	“Michall, I suppose I can forgive your tardiness in light of what you have in tow, but if we’re ever to get to our destination, I do believe that we must first start,” Phillip hinted in a less-than-tactful tone. “So if you think you can stand to pull yourself away, I’m quite ready to begin.”
	Bowing low over his mount, Phillip captured Marthee’s hand in his. Raising it smoothly to his lips, he gently kissed the pale skin. “Farewell, my fair damsel. Do I dare hope that you will not forget me while I’m away? Please, try to hold me as dearly in your thoughts as you once did within your satiny arms.”
	“Oh my, my indeed!” she huffed.
	Marthee turned, eyes wide, her hands pressing lightly upon Michall’s chest as she looked up into his dark features. ‘The idiot was going to ruin her plans.’...“Do not listen to the ranting of a fool, my Prince. He means nothing to me!”
	Michall clasped her hands and removed them from his person, finding her touch a burden. “Yes, a fool he may very well be, yet I do tend to listen to him more than I should. It’s a shame that he means nothing to you, for you see, he means a great deal to me.”
	Leaving Marthee standing alone, he mounted his own dark steed and signaled that he was ready to depart.
	As the four travelers rode away from the Palace and slowly passed under the gateway leading toward the western roads, Marthee stood abandoned in the courtyard, furious. ‘How could he take the little chit with him? How could he embarrass me in this manner?’
	Then a thought wormed its way past her anger causing a smile to spread across her face. ‘All is not lost, I can still put my plan into action. In fact, it will be easier with him gone.’
	“Yes, it could work out fine. Even better than I had first hoped,” Marthee whispered as her plotting took a new path, and found that she felt remotely better.
	Ra-May turned sideways on her horse so that she could watch the sun as it rose to illuminate the Palace. The great building seemed to wink at her as the sunlight played softly across its stone walls.
	Movement caught her eye, and she witnessed the woman who had been with Michall poking her pink tongue out at their retreating backs.
	‘How strange,’ Ra-May thought. ‘Mayhap this is the manner in which mortals express their farewells?’
	Pivoting on her Gray, she aped the other’s actions. The woman’s mouth flew open. Then she kicked at the ground before swirling around, her skirts a riot of lace and petticoats.
	Ra-May swung back around. “Alas,” she shrugged. “More’s the pity. How strange these mortals seem.”

Chapter Fifteen
Patience

	The sun was a welcome companion as they wound their way through the countryside. The main thoroughfare stretched ahead of them, slicing a path through the open fields, reminding him of an endless scar imposed upon the land.
	As the lush, green valleys of Doran ebbed, to finally disappear from view, he had a momentary pang of regret. He shrugged it off before his mind had time to intensify the emotion. There would be no turning back now.
	He rode at the lead since it seemed an agreed upon conclusion that he knew the route that they would travel. Ra-Nu had staked out a spot directly behind him. Bringing up the rear came Phillip and Ra-May, riding side-by-side, deep in conversation. Occasionally a peal of feminine laughter would drift forward, causing his teeth to grind and his palms to itch.
	He knew what Phillip was doing -- exactly what he always did when around the fairer gender! 
	He grinned as a ‘just’ vision formed in his head illustrating how he’d handle Phillip should he cross the boundaries of his good grace.
	Phillip, he understood, had always enjoyed the fairer sex and it stood to reason that he would choose to ride back with Ra-May. He had never worried about his kin’s actions before and so it grated along his spine that he should do so now.
	He tried to relax but found it impossible. Every nerve in his body was tight and ready to spring.
	“Patience, princeling.”
	“What?” Michall asked, turning his head toward the voice.
	Ra-Nu directed his mount alongside Michall’s before stating again, “Patience. It is a tool to practice that will win out in every situation.”
	Michall hesitated before asking, “Patience for what?”
	“For what you desire,” came the deep-baritone reply.
	Michall studied his solemn face, then laughing, said, “My friend, I do believe you’re right.”
	Ra-Nu thumped him on his back and admitted, “I am usually right!” and threw his head back to release laughter that echoed merrily about him.
	They continued to move forward as the sun climbed higher in the sky, but now their companion was silence. Even Phillip seemed to have exhausted his ability to converse.
	Michall’s thoughts were locked on their route. He knew the terrain but was a bit apprehensive in his ability to lead them. Self doubt, an alien emotion, plagued him.
	He smirked, ‘I have lived a charmed life it seems.’ The truth of his thoughts bred determination. Straightening his shoulders, he sat taller in his saddle. ‘I will succeed or die trying.’
	When the sun had reached midpoint in its daily run through the heavens, he called his small band to a halt.
	“We’ll rest here and have mid-meal. The road we’ll be taking is less traveled and will turn rough and inhospitable as we near the Witches’ Wood. It’s best to stop now.”
	Phillip dismounted with a sigh. “Ah, finally, Michall. I had thought perhaps you’d grown a part of that demon you ride.” He rubbed his seat to punctuate his discomfort.
	Michall shrugged, “I had hoped to ride a bit further, but one look at you changed my mind. Who could ignore such obvious distress.”
	Phillip eyed him wearily. There had been an edge to those words that he hadn’t missed, and he intended to investigate its source.
	Placing an arm fondly across his dark kin’s back, he whispered, “I’m not totally insensitive. Have no fear, dear boy, I will try to behave.”
	Michall raised a skeptical brow and smirked. Turning toward his saddle bags, exposing his back to them, his words came low, almost apologetically, “This is the shortest route I know to our destination. The path will narrow, and we’ll be forced into single file. We’ll need to depend on each other, completely, once we are within.”
	“The wood is a changing isle, far removed from the tamer forest near Doran. It would be best to mark my words before we forge ahead,” he said, the last directed at Phillip.
	Ra-Nu nodded, while Phillip scowled. The Witches’ Wood was a dark and lonely place, rumored to be haunted. Phillip didn’t like the idea of being confronted by things that had no business still roaming this world.
	Phillip shrugged, “Well I did volunteer for this journey. Once a fool,” he whispered before crossing his heart in safeguarding.
	Suddenly remembering his manners, Phillip rushed forward to help his lovely companion dismount but was met with Michall’s broad back instead, already lifting Ra-May in his strong arms.
	He admitted defeat with a comprehending grin spreading across his face, deciding instantly that it was going to be an interesting adventure any way he chose to view it.
	Changing his direction, he strolled nonchalantly toward the giant, hulking form of Ra-Nu. “Well, big fellow, what say you? Shall we go and have a look around?”
	Arms crossed before his chest, Ra-Nu glanced down at Phillip and raised an eyebrow indifferently.
	Undaunted, Phillip rallied onward, “Come now, we might have some fun. Surely there’s game to be found. After a steady diet of dried beef, you’ll be grateful for the fresh meat.”
	He nodded toward Michall and Ra-May and continued, “I think that we should allow them a small measure of privacy, don’t you?”
	“I do not,” Ra-Nu stated gruffly. “But we will look anyway. I, too, would postpone the dried meat.”
	Swiftly, the large Elf turned, heading toward the thin line of trees that would eventually lead them into the Witches’ Wood. “Come little man, we hunt!”
	“By your leave,” Phillip chuckled. “I’m ever so glad that we have one among us who had the insight to think of it.”
	The two moved silently into the trees, ready for the hunt. They hadn’t gotten very far when Ra-Nu abruptly stopped, causing Phillip to bang into his broad hind side.
	“What?” Phillip asked as he rubbed his newly bruised nose.
	“Do you not hear the voices, little man?”
	“No,” Phillip answered, scanning about with a puzzled expression.
	“How intriguing,” was Ra-Nu’s only response.
	“What?” Phillip again quarried, feeling a fool for muttering the same question again.
	“The voices, my friend,” Ra-Nu repeated.
	Signaling for Phillip to follow, Ra-Nu moved in the direction that he had heard the voices. Phillip made haste to follow. They were after all near the Witches’ Wood. Spirits, he reasoned, might be more afraid of Ra-Nu than he was of them.
	“We hunt!” Ra-Nu stated, grinning eagerly at Phillip.
	He lurched forward, moving deeper into the woods. His body hunched near the ground, every muscle set and ready, each move silently stalking, eager for the chase.
	“Oh, honestly!” Phillip mumbled as he followed his fearless companion.

Chapter Sixteen
Show Me

	Michall held her about her waist, savoring her warmth, reveling in her nearness. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he remained silent, unable to speak his heart. With a sigh, he released his hold and stood away.
	He’d never had any trouble expressing himself before, yet here he stood as tongue-tied as a green youth. He felt his face heat-up and escaped his discomfort by rummaging in his packs until locating two meat pies. Handing one to Ra-May and keeping one for himself, he motioned for her to sit before taking a place across from her.
	The silence stretched out before them, becoming a bloated void. He strained against being pulled further into its empty clutches but couldn’t break free of his paralysis.
	Ra-May finally broke the silence, “Michall, might I speak freely with you?”
	“Always,” he replied instantly.
	“Ah, this is good,” she nodded. Tipping her head to look into his eyes, she gifted him with a smile, her inner light reaching out to caress him.
	Unaware of the effect she was having on him, she continued, “You are worried. I sense this in your aura. Concerned, I think, about the one we seek and how we will face him. This worry creates a dark cloud that hangs over your thoughts.”
	Michall quietly weighed her words. Trying not to show his doubts, he answered, “Yes, worry does seem to plague me, always raising questions that I have no responses to.”
	“And these questions would be?” she prompted.
	“For one, why do we go in search of this thing -- this Del-a-Shar? Why not stay safely in Doran? You could live ‘happily-ever-after’ so to speak...with me,” he whispered.
	Responding simply, “Because I must. Deep down you know this to be true because you are also compelled to seek out the Del-a-Shar. I know that you feel this.”
	She sighed, tilting her innocent yet beguiling face toward him. “We are two missing pieces to a larger puzzle. The Del-a-Shar, or ‘Soul Stealer’ in your tongue, will not rest knowing that pieces are lost. You and I seem to be commanded by forces deeper than either of us can comprehend to set an old wrong right.”
	Michall nodded, understanding and even agreeing to some extent yet sensing she was holding something back.
	“But my little Enchantress,” he asked, concern coloring his voice, “what will you use to counter such a strong foe?”
	He watched the hesitation play across her face and was once again struck by the odd feeling that she knew more than she was letting on, but he didn’t press.
	He waited, suddenly not sure if he wished to hear her answer. He was prepared to fight with all his skill and might until he or this Del-a-Shar gave way, but he didn’t think his strength alone was enough for the both of them.
	He had no doubts that she knew how to use the weapons she carried, there was confidence in her shouldering of them, but he feared skill might not be enough.
	When her answer came it was said so matter-a-fact that he was at once shocked and humored.
	“Magic,” she declared as she took a bite from her pie. Nodding approval of the taste, she licked her lips in an effort to capture any errant crumbs.
	He chuckled, shaking his head at her actions, ‘Such an innocent.’
	Turning serious, he tried again to drag a reasonable reply from her. “What magical charm do you possess that will ensnare this Del-a-Shar?” While silently thinking, ‘Perhaps it’s hidden within your golden eyes? I admit they’ve worked their charm on me.’
	“Aye,” she said between bites, “it is a charm of sorts, but it cannot be seen. There are no talismans or warding charms. It is simply within me!”
	“What?” he whispered as the reality of her words began to sink into his dense mind.
	“I wield magic with a thought or a gesture. It seems to come from deep inside my soul. It has always been this way.”
	Her nonchalant tone only served to send his thoughts into a deeper tailspin.
	“Does Ra-Nu have this power?”
	“Nay, he does not. In truth, he was as amazed as you seem to be when he discovered this about me.”
	As his shock began to wear off, natural curiosity surfaced. All other emotions quickly pushed to the background, conveniently forgotten.
	Excitement rippled through him when next he whispered, “Ra-May, show me!”
	She laughed and stood, eager to accommodate him. “Know first that I remain untutored, possessing only the skill which has been self taught. Do you wish still for me to continue?”
	He nodded, the movement quick and eager.
	“What would you have me show you?”
	“Anything, anything at all,” he answered breathlessly.
	“Hmm, let me concentrate. Aye, I know.”
	She stared straight ahead. Focusing on some unseen object before her, she raised her hands and then allowed them to trail slowly downward again. The hairs on his arms itched, and he rubbed at the odd sensation.
	He saw a golden veil of light encircle her, swirling tightly around her slender form. It began to thicken, glowing brightly, bathing her in fire. Flames leapt from her fingers, arching outward in a sharp line toward the horses. He feared they would be engulfed but was unable to react. His heart leapt into his throat.
	He watched in fascinated disbelief while the fire intensified, gaining strength as it began to solidify and take on a semblance of life.
	It grew brighter and brighter until Michall could barely stand its glare. He knew he should turn away or risk being blinded yet he remained glued to its aura.
	He squinted, straining to keep his sight on its center. The bright flame began to change yet again. Within, he could see forms taking shape. Then, with an unnatural swiftness, the light disappeared, leaving in its place two familiar figures.
	Ra-May turned to Michall, her pallor wane yet she smiled, “I thought if these two were left alone too long they would surely find some type of mischief to entertain them. It was time for them to return.”
	Michall hadn’t realized that he’d stood when she’d performed her feat yet he had. He snapped his gaping mouth shut quickly and tried, with some difficulty, to gather his wits about him.
	Ra-May reached his side and wrapped her arms casually about his waist. With her color much improved, she laughed gaily against his chest. His stunned expression must have been amusing. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he felt amazed, confused, and absolutely astounded by what he’d witnessed. By the look on Phillip’s face, he thought his feelings were shared.
	Ra-Nu’s reaction was much different. He stormed toward Ra-May, his features painted in shadows as his rage surfaced and ran free.
	He shouted, any hint of control forgotten, “Have I not preached about the use of your magic? Have I not told you what could happen?”
	His beefy fists clenched and clutched hard at his side, turning white with his rage. Ra-May nodded, her head hung low to her chest.
	“Hold Ra-Nu!” Michall interceded. “She is not at fault here.”
	“I would say the fault is entirely hers. She knows the consequences of such rash actions,” Ra-Nu countered, turning his fury on Michall.
	“I won’t pretend to understand,” Michall said, “I do not know magic and so can’t comprehend your dire warnings but I refuse to allow you to berate her for something that I asked of her. If you must throw your anger about, then throw it my way. I’ll bear the brunt of your lashings.”
	“I think both of you shall feel my tongue. But first, since you are a human, I will enlighten you.” 
	Michall’s features took on a calm certainty as he made ready to stand against the hulking giant. Phillip saw the change but was helpless to prevent it.
	Ra-Nu didn’t seem to notice, or if he did he didn’t show any concern. He continued as if no one had bothered to interrupt him in the first place. “You see, young pup, magic recognizes magic. It leaves a trail. It could be that you both have placed us in greater danger than we were before.”
	“Then the blame is mine. I’ll bear it.”
	“Do not be too sure about your solitude in this matter.”
	Ra-Nu crossed his massive arms over a heaving chest and stood silent. He shook his head. Raising his eyes skyward, he whispered, “I must now pound sense into not one, but three children. By the Ancients,” he swore under his breath. “What did I do to deserve this?”
	Michall conceded. Hoping for a truce, he answered, “I didn’t know. I’ll try to be more cautious, Ra-Nu. I bow to your wisdom.”
	Ra-Nu nodded but said nothing.
	“I should’ve realized the danger,” Michall continued. “For this action, I apologize. But,” his tone changed as he straightened his shoulders to look the other square in the face, “be forewarned. I’ll tolerate much but not when directed at Ra-May. If she is hurt, then so too am I. It was you who put me in charge, and as one in charge I ask that you act according to my wishes,” he said extending his hand to Ra-Nu.
	The silence stretched out before them. Ra-Nu eyed him, his expression unreadable. Then, he grinned.
	Grasping Michall’s proffered hand, he stated, “There may be hope for you yet, princeling.”
	Ra-May hugged Ra-Nu close and mumbled into his chest, “I promise I will think more carefully in the future.”
	Ra-Nu returned her hug. Sighing, he said, “You know that I can never stay angry at you long. Truthfully, it is my fault. Mayhap that is why I worry.”
	“Your fault?” Phillip chimed in. “How can it be your fault when she’s the one who wielded the magic?”
	Michall sent Phillip a chilling glare.
	“Ah, little man. It is my fault for spoiling her. Now I must pay the Ancients a steep price for my sin.”
	“Oh well, that seems fair,” he mumbled while wondering if, perhaps, they might all be a little mad.
	From deep within the interior of the Witches’ Wood, tiny pinpoints of light winked out of the gloom, but neither Phillip nor the others noticed.
	Directing the conversation toward lighter tones, Phillip clapped his hands. Rubbing them together, he asked, “Who’s hiding the food? I swear I’m starved. Please, someone tell me there is food. I want to eat before Ra-Nu decides he’s hungry too!”
	Ra-Nu chuckled and threw an arm about him, “I believe, little man, that you and I will get on well.”
	“Yes, of course we will,” Phillip said rather shakily. “All great minds think alike, don’t you agree?”
	“Ha, you are a funny one.”
	All thoughts concerning the voices they’d been stalking were forgotten.
	Michall shook his head as he watched them walk off. “I must be losing my mind,” he declared. He felt Ra-May’s tentative touch and swung about to wrap her in his arms.
	“Don’t look so sad my Enchantress. All is well. Ra-Nu is just very protective of you. I it seems am the same.”
	She smiled as she snuggled against him. “I would have it no other way my champion.”

Chapter Seventeen
Grateful

	Having fed and rested, they found themselves once again on the path leading into the Witches’ Wood. Michall still held the lead, but now Phillip was following close on his heels.
	The clear, worn thoroughfare they’d been on most of the early cycle had broken down and now resembled a footpath rather than a road. As Michall had warned, the path narrowed, forcing them to ride single file.
	The woods grew denser with each forward stride. Vines began to appear and could be seen more frequently snaking their way across the trail, lying in wait to catch them in their grasp.
	The air, smelling of rot and laced with moisture, dampened their gear as well as their spirits. The sun, threatening to abandon them, stubbornly stayed to the rear as they moved deeper into the gloom.
	Shadows loomed from places where the light refused to penetrate. Ever-so-often the rays would do battle with the encroaching dusk and force the shadows to retreat, but the battle was futile.
	Michall heard Phillip draw a shaky breath. Looking back, he offered a reassuring smile. His kin’s unnatural fear of dark places showed on his pale face. A sudden chill ran up his spine, and he realized that he, too, bore a slight aversion to the place.
	“I wonder why it is called the Witches’ Wood?” Ra-Nu’s voice reached them while he talked quietly to Ra-May.
	Michall reined in to answer, “I suppose they’ve named it so because it’s alleged to be haunted. I’ve only heard tales mind you, but others have sworn they’ve encountered demons and disembodied spirits in these woods. Someone once told me that this area use to be pleasant and charming.”
	“Stories say that a witch was chased here by angry villagers, running to the woods to avoid the stake. I’m unclear as to just what events happened next or how she became the mistress of these woods, but the gist of it is that she did reign here and die here, refusing to give up her domain. So here she rules for all eternity.”
	“Well, I hope she’s in a good mood,” Phillip whispered.
	“Never fear, little man. I will watch your back.”
	“Thanks!” Phillip said sarcastically.
	They rode on in silence. As the woods grew darker, so it seemed did their moods.
	Michall knew they’d have to spend many cycles traveling through the desolate area, a thought he didn’t savor. He pushed ahead at a slightly brisker pace.
	They’d have to stop soon and make camp, but being restless and uneasy, he continued on, reluctant to prolong their stay within the timeless void.
	He felt his skin crawl, the hair along his arms threatening to pull free of their bases, reacting to unseen sensitivities. He felt as if they were being watched and couldn’t shake the odd sensation.
	He hadn’t really believed in spirits before, but if he’d been asked cycles ago if he believed in magic, his answer would have been no. Now he was ready to believe in almost anything.
	Onward they rode, winding their way deeper into the dense forest. Time it seemed was creeping forward with the agility of an old man.
	Michall moved ahead, leaving the others behind as he scanned the trail. Once he thought he heard a desolate cry echo out from the path just ahead, its vacant wail sending a chill up his spine.
	A serene breeze brushed across his brow, pushing his hair lightly back from his face, its stroke resembling a gentle caress...soothing...familiar. He wondered how he could’ve thought of danger when such gentleness cradled him in its warm embrace. He wanted to give himself over to its care. Somewhere deep within his subconscious he felt the threads of fear, but it was weak compared to this beckoning call.
	He heard a depraved cackle build upon the growing breeze just before he fell from his horse, the jolt causing him momentary panic.
	“What am I doing lying on the ground?”
	The thought was enough to force him into sluggish action. Fighting against the euphoria that threatened to overpower him, he pulled himself clumsily to his feet. Swinging around in painfully slow movements, he attempted to warn his friends.
	Behind him, Ra-Nu sat erect in his saddle, reins held tight and head cocked as if listening, not noticing, it seemed, that he’d fallen.
	The adumbrations reached out to his companions with the same beguiling breezes, and he could do nothing to stop it. He watched helplessly as the edges of Ra-Nu’s hair lifted, and his tall frame began to sway to its siren lure.
	Without warning and with a movement that left his dulled mind impressed, Ra-Nu was upon the ground, sword in hand, ready for battle. Ra-May stood encased in a ball of light, her magically erected shield causing the shadows to cringe from her.
	Michall staggered and stumbled his way toward them, eventually reaching Ra-Nu’s side. Phillip had followed Ra-Nu’s lead. Although still mounted, his sword was drawn, waiting, his eyes huge, and his brow spotted with moisture.
	Fighting against the hypnotic pull, Michall tried to remain alert but found it to be a useless struggle. His head steadily drooped, unconsciously giving over to the compelling siren’s song. Ra-Nu slapped him hard, bringing him momentarily back to awareness.
	“What is it?” Michall cried, trying to be heard above the building din of the wails. The winnow grabbed his voice, sending it echoing out into the darkening forest. “What is this faceless danger that is upon us?”
	“I do not know yet I sense it is only the beginning. I fear more is to come,” Ra-Nu stated without taking his sharp eyes from the path ahead. “Whatever comes rides within the blackness.”
	Michall nodded, responding firmly, “Then we shall be ready.”
	Signaling for Phillip to pull back, Ra-May called for her power to expand, hoping to form a magical barrier between them and whatever was coming. Biting her lips, she ignored the strain and held the shield in place even though her fears threatened to bring it crashing down about her.
	Michall remained groggy and had to use considerable strength to fight against the urge to lay down and give up.
	The unnatural force built, its gelid grip catching them in its invisible arms to fling them backwards. Their fragile wall of flesh blew apart as the supernatural gust forced its way forward, scattering them like useless leaves.
	Michall was thrown to the ground and dragged backwards by the force, helpless to extract himself from the indiscernible jaws. He could feel the skin from his hands and arms being scrubbed away as he groped frantically for purchase. Managing to catch the root of a small tree, he spit dirt from his dry mouth and yelled to the others to try do the same but heard no reply.
	He scanned through shielded eyelids, trying to locate the others through the thickening grit and debris. Soon the sun was beaten back, forced into submission, causing an opaque veil to form about them. But this wasn’t like any gentle eventide like the ones he’d known in Doran. There were no soft twilight beams from the moon nor any shadowy reflections to marvel at. He was completely encased in darkness.
	The wind abated, and the air grew hot, hanging heavy about him, making it hard to draw breath. And then he saw them canopied against the blackness, hazy, white forms of disembodied beings.
	Painful screams escaped them through hollow, dark slits that served as mouths. Their wails sent tremors through his mind as they soared around and through the trees or hovered effortlessly above the path.
	He didn’t know how to fight something that seemed so alive yet had no substance to allow an attack. They were nothing more than vaporous visions, but he feared them more than any physical enemy he had ever faced.
	A lightning bolt ripped through the darkness, leaving tracers floating across his vision. He heard Ra-May call out a warning, but he couldn’t answer...his fear paralyzing him.
	Wild, savage laughter surrounded him, the force building, flowing from all directions. The air grew colder, and still more spirits drifted forward, their vacant eyes appearing greedy...hungry...as they materialized out of the blackness to pox the air before him.
	Michall forced his fear down and fought against the gossamer hands trying to bind him, their icy embrace numbing him. He could feel them in his mind, toying with him, sapping his reserve.
	He felt a soft almost gentle caress cross his cheek. It was different somehow from the others...warmer with more substance. A voice sang to him, instructing him to join them...and be free.
	“Free?” he moaned.
	“Yes, free,” came the hollow reply. “Join me.”
	“Leave me,” he begged, calling upon depleted reserves to resist the call. Light flashed again but this time from within his mind. Suddenly, his thoughts were his own. 
	He looked about but could see nothing. The darkness was complete, shrouding him in its tight embrace. He felt cut off and alone and shivered at the thought.
 	The unnerving wailing had ceased just as quickly as it had begun, gone like the spirits who had created it. The forest had switched from light to dark, storm to calm, in a mere blink of an eye. The ensuing shroud served as a protective womb against the harshness of unknown reality.
	Yet one presence remained. Michall felt its chilling touch caress his chin before oozing over his skin to wrap itself possessively about his body.
	“Join me!” demanded its haunting voice.
	Crawling backwards, groping awkwardly behind himself, he tried to distance himself from its reviled reach. Backing into a tree, he found his flight halted. Barely was there time for panic to seize him before it arrived.
	A gentleness rocked him. He sighed. Losing the last of his will to fight, he wondered why he’d ever wanted to in the first place. Being comforted and soothed, his eyelids slowly slid shut, longing for the deep, sweet caress of blissful slumber.
	Sinking closer to unconsciousness, he heard its hollow voice beg, “Give it to me,” it cooed. “Your reward will be great, your woes gone -- if only you will surrender your soul.”
	Echoing beyond the veil, he heard Phillip call, “Michall, dear fellow, I fear I have no heart for your battle. I really must lie down for just a while. Do forgive me, won’t you?”
	Phillip’s call tore through the fog, numbing his mind, “What am I doing?” he mutinied.
	Holding on to that one thought, he began the arduous task of clawing his way free from the deceptive call of the Witches’ Wood, vowing it would not have him or his companions.
	He heard a soft plop and then no more. Silence reigned complete. Knelling upon the ground, he crawled like an animal on all fours, moving toward the area that he thought he’d heard Phillip’s voice.
	The voice harped at him, constantly hammering at his resolve. Once again he was forced to call upon unrealized strength to stave off the need to lie down as he constantly battled the urge to surrender. His thoughts locked only on finding his companions before he lost them and himself forever.
	He continued forward, groping in front of him as he went. He heard the wails of the spirits renew as their wispy forms again dotted the black canopy about him. He didn’t stop. When his hand came up against warm flesh, he latched hold and hauled the limp frame close.
	“Wake up, Phillip! Fight this cursed thing!” he shouted into the gloom, slapping him sharply across the face. “If you don’t fight this, you may never awake.”
	Michall called out to the others, fearing they too had succumbed to the strange, hypnotic voice. “Ra-May, Ra-Nu, fight it. Try to remain alert. If you don’t, it’ll devour you.”
	He heard something. It’s echo rippled about him, but he couldn’t make out any words.
	“Join me,” came the persistent demand.
	His resolve hardened.
	Something heavy crashed to the ground, and the silence was broken by soft whimpers. He surmised that they’d just lost the horses.
	Laughter filled his mind, “Join me!”
	Using his fear as a catalyst, he began to crawl again, dragging Phillip’s limp form along with him.
	Ra-May had been near the horses when last he’d seen her. He hoped she was still there.
	He doggedly crawled forward but never escaped the cloying darkness with its embodied, animated menaces reaching out to devour them.
	“Join me!”
	He wondered anew why he just didn’t give up. Why waste so much energy on needless resistance? This thing would win anyway.
	‘Why not stop now?’ his weary mind argued.
	His will divided, strange thoughts began to war nonstop within his muddled mind. “Sweet, peaceful sleep,” one view argued. “You are weary and need to rest.” The other opinion was to carry on, fight and resist. He nodded in agreement. Yes, he must continue. Ra-May needed him. But his mind made decisions that his body failed to execute.
	His mind told him he was moving, but in reality he’d laid down upon the dirt path, unknowingly giving himself over to the dark caresses...his body too tired to argue.
	“Aye, come and join me!” the voice echoed gleefully.
	Something struck him. He moaned.
	He felt tiny flutters of movement stroke across his cheeks, the touch different from the cold caresses he’d known only moments before. These were warm -- inviting -- urging him to rise. Opening his eyes, he saw small beacons of balled light circling his head.
	‘Strange,’ his weary mind asserted, ‘I seem to own a halo.’
	For a brief moment, he wondered if he was among the dead.
	The light whirled, growing brighter with each pass. As his eyes focused, he noticed similar lights dancing around the heads of each of his companions, while still others jumped and bobbed playfully near their mounts.
	Rising, he stood on shaky legs and stared, mouth agape, at the sight unfolding before him.
	Hundreds of tiny, winged creatures floated smoothly within the darkness, now little more than a dense fog. Each flutter of their delicate wings chasing more layers of gloom away as they mimicked the sun. He heard a keening echo through the woods, rising and falling in great waves as the defeated spirits fled from the light.
	Then the curtain of haze lifted, allowing the sun to cast a welcomed cheer in the otherwise dreary Witches’ Wood.
	But still, he stood and stared.
	Ra-May sat up with a groan and blinked against the sudden brightness that assaulted her. She looked about through half-sealed lids and gasped.
	A being approached, its body aglow, its tiny wings aflutter, and dived in to circle her head. Her eyes, now wide, followed its flight until it finally settled upon her shoulders. Mewing, it wiggled and squirmed upon its newly acquired perch. Ra-May dared not move. Finally, folding its tiny arms before it to rest snugly atop its rather large belly, it fell still.
	As it watched the others, Ra-May watched it, her golden eyes aglow with its fiery reflection. Then a smile spread across features that before had been more than stern, transforming it, making it seem more approachable. She followed its stare and saw Michall and Ra-Nu making their way toward her.
	Phillip tried to rise but fell back to the ground, his legs rubbery. Giving up the pretense, he rolled over to his back and stretched out upon the soft forest floor and closed his eyes.
	He could feel a painful tingling racing up and down his legs as feeling threatened to return. Ra-Nu walked over and knelt down to rest on one knee beside his prone body and shook his shoulder.
	“Come, little man,” he laughed. “It is time to rise and greet the light.”
	Phillip frowned as he drew open his eyes. With his stare vacant, he attempted to throw his arms around the large Elf.
	Ra-Nu slapped his arms away, forcing Phillip to truly look upon him. With a gasp, Phillip withdrew.
	“You, my friend,” Phillip stated flatly, “are not what these tired eyes long to see.”
	Then he laughed. “Perhaps I could persuade you to leave, and I will lie back down. Then you could summon the fair damsel to come and awaken me?”
	Ra-Nu, in the process of hauling Phillip to his feet, released his hold abruptly, letting him bang roughly back on the forest floor.
	Standing, he announced over his shoulder to the others, “The little man is well. I see no damage here.”
	“Ouch!” Phillip complained, rubbing his sore bottom tenderly. “I do wish to thank you for your heartfelt concern, but next time I think that a little less care is in order.”
	Reaching up, he felt the lump that was forming at the back of his head. “Remind me, Ra-Nu, the next time I doze to be sure to lie as far from you as possible.”
	Ra-Nu harrumped, being sure to keep his back turned away from him so that the little man did not see the humor in his eyes nor the smile that played teasingly across his lips. He did not turn around again until he had reached Ra-May’s side.
	“What are they?” Michall whispered as Ra-Nu drew near, nodding toward the little, winged creature that rode upon Ra-May’s shoulder.
	“Fire Elves I would guess,” Ra-Nu replied with a tone that expressed his lack of concern about the creatures. “The magic of their light saved us it would seem.”
	“Fire Elves?” Michall quizzed. He didn’t understand why they disturbed him so. There was something very uncomfortable about them.
	“Aye, Fire Elves, or at least that is what I name them.” He again answered as if it was of no great concern. “The magic of the light is most powerful against the shades of darkness. We are fortunate that they were near.” 
	“But they are barely four stones high!” the prince spat out, trying to imagine these winged creatures as being Elf. “How can they be Elf?”
	“Aye, they are small, I agree. Some are said to be even smaller. Some to be taller than the ones you see here. It is all in the telling,” Ra-Nu shrugged. “I would not know the truth of these tales for I have never seen one. I have only heard of them.”
	“You said they were Elf!” Michall reminded him.
	“Fire Elves,” Ra-Nu corrected.
	“So?” Michall said. He hated to try to pull information from Ra-Nu. It felt like prodding a stubborn mule who wanted to go anywhere except where you intended him to roam. Or in this situation, if you were to ever learn anything of any import. “Elf is Elf, isn’t it?”
	“Nay, it is not!” Ra-Nu replied with a weary release of breath. He shrugged as if to say ‘How can I ever make these silly humans understand.’
	“I am Elf. I am tall and strong, am I not?”
	“Yes,” Michall replied reluctantly.
	“Ah, then you see, how could they be like me? They are short and possess wings that flutter quickly about. They fly and glow, which I do not.” He finished with a satisfied smirk as if his explanation should make all who were curious become knowledgeable.
	“You’re not making any sense!” Michall shot back, growing angry at his apparent smugness. “I wish you’d explain yourself!”
	Ra-Nu shrugged. Shaking his head, he turned to face the prince. “It is said among our legends that Fire Elves were once just as I am now. They existed as a part of Ra-Jee. They were a small Band that lived on the outer boundaries of the Kingdom, holding a power within them that gave them control over the elements of light and fire.”
	Ra-Nu stopped and turned his head to acknowledge Phillip’s presence. Once he was near enough to hear, Ra-Nu continued. “The Bands that made up Ra-Jee controlled varying elements, each laying claim to a specific control. Only the Fire Elves were able to completely control the flame...
	“...Numbered among the other Bands were the Water Elves, who held sway over the water world and all those creatures who lived within. Then there were the Bands of the Forest, commanding all the wilds within their leafy domain. Next in line came the Elves of the Earth. They were the ones who nourished and birthed the life from the land. Finally, there were the Bands of the sky, or the Sky Elves, who rode the winds and directed its breath. These particular Bands existed long before my time. It was carefully written down so no one would ever forget what sins were committed and the punishment that certain Bands received because of their own rash actions. It was of a time when all Elf held true magic within their souls.
	“It was told that the Ruler’s of the Fire and Sky Elves had become greedy. Their greed eating at them for the things that they had no claim to. They wished to take control of the other Bands and set out to conquer them. Of course, the other Bands resisted. A war was soon launched.
	“The covetous Ruler of the Fire Band spelled his people, reducing their size so they could be used in his greedy plans. Then he sent out his Warriors of Light, setting them loose first upon the Forest Bands. Their great woods began to smoke and eventually caught fire and began to burn uncontrollably. It did not help when the Ruler of the Sky Elves sent his winds to push the flames quickly through the woods.
	“The Earth Elves came to the aid of their kin and commanded the land to split and climb high. They hoped to capture the flames and somehow control them. But the breezes spoiled their efforts. The wind simply picked up the flames and carried them over the towering walls, dropping them down to feed upon the green, fertile valleys that lay beyond the forest. The flames marched forward, feasting on the young shoots and stalks of life that had been birthed from nature’s womb.
	“The Bands gathered, even those from the Fire and Sky Bands who were opposed to the actions of their kin. Sadly, they were few. All who gathered felt the helplessness. They did not know what they could do to defeat such foes. Most felt that it was time for them to surrender and allow the greedy fire and blustery wind to control them. Their future looked very bleak. Most felt this way, but not all. The Water Elves stood firm in their opposition.
	“The winds continued to push the tiny armies of flame onward, heading now toward their last foe, the Bands of the Water Elves. Ah, but the Ruler of this Band was a strong opponent. You see, he commanded water, wherever it hid. Be it hiding in the earth, in crystal dew resting lightly upon the forest leaves, or within a seemingly clear sky. If there was water, he controlled it.
	“He called out to the sky and brought forth a great storm cloud, asking it to come and aid his Band. The dark cloud came and intensified, becoming a mass of threatening, grumbling vengeance. The cloud split its silvery side and released the water that was trapped within, pouring it down upon the flames of the Fire army. The clear liquid quelled the flaming forms. Now they were nothing more than weak sparks tumbling harmlessly downward toward the ground. The wind, which had provided their forward momentum, cradled their wilted forms, its blustery caress tossing them helplessly to and fro in the swirling currents.
	“The other Bands came and knelt down to the Water Lord, honoring him. The battle was won and now the choice of punishment became the decision of the victor. The Water Lord commanded that the Fire Elves be forever trapped within their tiny forms, and the wind was to be imprisoned within the Fire Elves. They were all to be banished to the feared outer world, forever. They were commanded to honor and respect the victor and his blood from that time onward. By their victory, they had proved to be the greater strength. The Fire Elves would forever be duty bound to protect the very things that they had tried to destroy.
	“At the completion of the Water Lord’s words, the forms of the tiny Fire Elves sprouted wings and fluttered away in defeat. They were never seen again within Ra-Jee...”
	Ra-Nu finished his tale and then sat silently, watching Michall’s thoughts travel across his face.
	After a long period of contemplation, Michall sighed and turned to ask his questions. “What are they doing here? Although I’m glad they are, why here and why now?”
	“I like you, human, I truly do, but I fail to understand your apparent slowness of mind.”
	Michall tipped up his head and crossed his arms, his body gone tense, his stance rigid. Raising an eyebrow high, his dark eyes staring coldly through narrowed lids, he silently waited.
	Ra-Nu continued, ignoring the gesture. “The Elves are duty bound, as I have already stated, to honor and protect the Water Elves. That is the price they must pay for their misdeeds.” He shrugged as if to say ‘Humans!’
	“It is only right that they should be here.”
	Michall’s eyes reflected his disconcert, “Ra-May’s ancestor was the one who banished them? She is a Water Elf?”
	Ra-Nu nodded.
	“And the other Bands made her ancestor their King, correct?”
	“Aye, you are right. The Water Elves have ruled since,” Ra-Nu answered with a bit of sarcasm. These humans could be very taxing. He heaved a sigh of impatience.
	“So, what you’re telling me is that these Fire Elves came here to fulfill a progenitors pledge? Some inner instinct that none of them even understand anymore?”
	Ra-Nu smiled a slow, secretive grin as he answered the prince, “They understand, princeling. It is not instinct to them, it is duty.”
	“But how can they know of duty when all you have told us happened so very long ago? It cannot be labeled duty if it’s an inherited remembrance!”
	Ra-Nu threw back his head, emitting laughter that echoed deeply into the dark forest beyond.
	“They know their duty, princeling, because they were the original perpetrators of the crime!”
	He watched the confusion surface upon the faces of the two humans, his laughter flowed over them in rippling waves and served to heighten their discomfort.
	Fighting to pull his features under control but failing, Ra-Nu shrugged and walked away.
	Reaching Ra-May, he opted to stand guard, alert and watchful. He knew that he had left the young prince in a state of sheer confusion, but it was something that the boy would have to work out on his own...

	“...How very thoughtful of Ra-Nu to allow Michall his solitude,” insisted the Storyteller.
	Clearing his throat, he continued...”

Chapter Eighteen
Tis So

	Michall sat in the middle of the forest trail, ignoring the cool dampness that worked its way through to cramp both muscle and bone. It wasn’t the cause of his discomfort.
	Phillip tried to rouse him, but having no luck, gave up and wandered over to where the rest of the small troop gathered. He knew that Michall would sit there, come rain or shine, until his mind sorted out what puzzled him.
	Thoughts swirled within Michall’s head, spinning off in strange and unwanted directions as he struggled to digest what he’d been told while trying to stave off the uncertainties that his mind churned up.
	‘They, the Fire Elves,’ he thought, ‘where reported to be the original Elves in Ra-Nu’s tale yet they, themselves, looked very young. In fact, they looked ageless. If he were to believe Ra-Nu, then he was now staring immortality in the eye. How could he not believe...Ra-May had been only a fable not so very long ago.’
	He looked across the road to where she sat surrounded by the tiny, fluttering creatures. Her face, artfully illuminated, was awash in light created by the strange beings, the soft rays highlighting her innocent beauty.
	Then his gaze fell upon Ra-Nu’s strong yet youthful features. His age seemed near to his own if he could trust appearances. Yet Ra-Nu’s own words had marked him older...much older.
	Hadn’t he said he’d raised Ra-May from an infant? Yes, he was sure he had. Now he admitted he’d arrived at the root of his worries. Were they also immortal? Were they to be forever young while he soon returned to the dust that had created him?
	His weary mind spinned endlessly with questions as he searched in vain for answers...any answer that made sense. Nothing presented itself, at least nothing that fit comfortably within his little realm of logic.
	He surrendered with a sigh and rose. Absently dusting the seat of his tunic, he concluded that he understood nothing.
	He’d thought he’d understood what it was that they sought when they’d first started out, but now he realized how little he really knew and how much he needed to learn.
	He decided that he needed to be reprised of all the details, not just the ones that they thought he should know. Whenever magic was being employed, those that understood its mantel would need to make him learn to sense it, too. How else was he to protect them? He could not continue to remain insensitive to its touch.
	He made his way toward the others. Earlier he’d formed an opinion concerning the spirits dwelling within these woods, certain they’d not acted of their own volition, a gut-feeling telling him they’d somehow been awakened and were being controlled. And if he was right, then it was only a simple step to assume that someone was watching them.
	On the heels of that chilling realization came another. They couldn’t continue to travel west out in the open any longer. No more traveling as if they hadn’t a care. New plans had to be implemented.
	Phillip nodded to Michall as he approached, bestowing one of his sparkling smiles upon him. He was sitting upon the ground, his elbow resting on a bent knee that served nicely as a leaning post for his chin, watching as the tiny Elves formed a soft halo around Ra-May’s head.
	Without taking his eyes from them, he asked, “Well my brooding kin, have you reached any conclusions?”
	“Why, Phillip, whatever do you mean?” Michall replied.
	Phillip turned to face him, intrigued by the playful note he’d heard in his kin’s voice. Michall was after all his dark, moody kin. Coming face-to-face with Michall’s blinding smile made him forget his tongue.
	The prince nodded, satisfied that he might have escaped his stinging wit for once.
	But Phillip recovered quickly and continued, “What I meant, dear boy, is, surely you didn’t believe all that rot in Ra-Nu’s tale, did you?”
	He pulled himself into a crossed-legged position and wiggled a little to improve his comfort. “At the very least I hope you’ve come up with an explanation for those little fireflies swooping through the breezes before us.”
	“I believed every word of that tale, Phillip. My eyes tell me it’s so, and my heart agrees.”
	“To be honest, I think I believe it, too,” Phillip admitted. “Although it shames me to believe in what should be a children’s bedtime tale. But I guess even if my mind finds it hard to understand, my eyes tell me it is true.”
	“So, where does that leave us in the grand scheme of things? I really don’t mean to be cruel, Michall, but how are you ever to compete with something so magnificent as their past?”
	Michall raised his arms upward in an over-exaggerated shrug. The gesture was answer enough. He lowered his tall frame down and took up a position much the same as Phillip’s. “I wish I knew.”
	“Phillip, you know how I feel. I’ve made no secrets about it. I carry no grand illusions nor do I have powerful magic to call to my side.” He looked longingly in Ra-May’s direction and sighed, “All I have to offer is the kingdom of my heart, and I fear it may not be enough. My love might not be the shield she needs to protect her.”
	“So, there’s the truth of it. I’ll do whatever it takes to see her through this, and if we survive, then I will offer her my heart and pray it doesn’t come back crushed.”
	Phillip laid a reassuring pat on Michall’s arm and smiled, “I don’t think your heart will come back. In fact, I don’t believe you even have it to offer. I think that you’ve already given it to her, and she, my friend, has decided to keep it.”
	Phillip cocked his head sideways and smirked, “What I think will come back to you though is a broken arm if you try to claim your heart. Ra-Nu will surely bust it in two if you even stretch it in her direction.”
	Michall leveled a dark glare at him.
	“Alas! The anguish of the truly troubled,” Phillip teased. “I, for one, hope to never be in that predicament. I like my life in the tidy order it’s in now. I really wouldn’t like wearing my heart upon my sleeve, waiting for someone to come along and thrust a thorn through it!”
	He giggled, successfully dodging Michall’s harmless jab at his jaw.
	“By the way, Phillip,” Michall asked, all tones of play gone. “How is your head?”
	“Sore, oh so sore, and I so groggy,” Phillip whined, punctuating the reply with a hand to his scalp.
	“Good!” Michall stated flatly.
	Spying the chagrin on Phillip’s face only caused him to laugh harder.
	“Well, I like that,” Phillip grumbled.
	Michall grew quiet once again. The silence built, stretching before them, creating an uncomfortable solitude. Finally, he shrugged, “Phillip, it appears that the rational world we’re accustomed to was left behind when we rode out of Doran.”
	Phillip studied his face, then flashed one of his ‘My, I’m having fun’ grins, causing his eyes to sparkle with merriment. “I’d grown bored of Doran anyway.”
	The absurdity of his words made them both laugh. The rich tones mingled in the air to echo out and away from them.
	Ra-May glanced toward the sound. Nodding, she sighed, ‘All seems well while laughter fills their hearts.’
	“I see that the little man has recovered,” Ra-Nu joked as he joined them. “Come, draw near and offer thanks for the aid our tiny friends have given.”
	Having made what appeared merely a suggestion, Ra-Nu proceeded to drag Phillip by the arm toward the winged creatures. Michall followed in silence.
	Tiny, winged Fire Elves darted swiftly to and fro near Ra-May. The air hummed with the flutter of their rapidly beating wings and echoed with giggles as they danced in joyful abandonment.
	As they approached, a tiny being parted from the rest and flew toward Phillip. One sweep around his head found the small Fire Elf landing gently upon his shoulders.
	He stopped in mid-stride and looked with trepidation at the winged being.
	“Oh!” squealed the Fire Elf.
	“Oh, yourself,” Phillip replied quite charmingly. “I’m told I have you to thank, and your troop of course, for our rescue.”
	“Tis so, you do!”
	“Oh, ho! No modesty here, Michall,” Phillip chuckled before stating elegantly, “Ah, then thank you, my Lady. ’Twas a job well done. I shall be in your debt always.”
	Phillip tried an elaborate bow but gave up, realizing that it was useless when the one you wished to honor rode your shoulders. He shrugged instead. The movement sent a puff of wind against his cheek and the merry sound of giggles ringing in his ear.
	When he heard a long drawn out, “Ahhhhh” escape his little passenger, he reddened with embarrassment.
	It wasn’t long before a second Fire Elf disengaged from Ra-May’s living halo and dived toward Phillip. This one was a male, and, based on the scowl upon his tiny face, he was an unhappy one. Taking up position on Phillip’s other shoulder, while ignoring him completely, the creature leaned forward and began to berate the female snuggling against his neck.
	“Tilly, you get down from this human, now! Come away from him!” he demanded. “Come away I say!”
	“I will not!” Tilly replied with a flutter of wings and a snort of disgust. “I like it here.”
	“You mean you like him!” the little fellow fumed.
	“Tis so, Torch. I do. He is very pretty,” Tilly sighed again.
	“Ugh...Bad Tilly. Shame on you!” the little fellow stated as he stomped his foot down hard on Phillip’s collar bone. “You must come away now. You are causing great embarrassment to our Band.”
	“Here now!” Phillip flinched. “You, my fine little fellow...” he started to say but found himself cut off in mid-sentence.
	“I am called Torch, and I am not ‘your fine’ anything, human!” he snapped smartly. “And I warn you, leave my sister alone!”
	“See here, little fellow, try to understand when I say I haven’t done anything to your sister. In fact, it seems to be the other way around,” Phillip asserted, trying in earnest to reason with the little flutterbug.
	But Torch was having none of it. His stern features caused Phillip to give up all effort to explain. He looked first left and then right, begging for a timely diversion from either Ra-Nu or Michall. One look at Michall’s smug grin, and he knew no sanctuary would be offered. Ra-Nu’s face wasn’t much better. Phillip shuttered to think of what they’d make out of all this on the journey ahead.
	With all the concern he could muster, Michall moaned, “Phillip, I just don’t know what I can do for you. It seems you have yet another admirer. What a curse it must be to possess such charm.”
	“I, too, envy him, princeling,” Ra-Nu continued where Michall left off. “I say it is a good match -- a little woman for the little man.”
	Then the withheld laughter burst forth, releasing an avalanche of merriment into the otherwise somber forest.
	Phillip raised a quizzical brow but only smiled. He could take a little ribbing, he gave it often enough.
	Tilly snuggled closer, fluttering her wings softly below his ear. It appeared to be a lover’s caress. Phillip laughed along with the others. ‘What was a fellow to do?’.
	Ra-May had risen and now stood next to Michall. A fine line of Fire Elves formed rank behind her, bobbing serenely on invisible air currents.
	“Michall, this is,” Ra-May said as she pointed to her own little Elf riding her shoulder, “King Bava.”
	He inclined his tiny head at mention of his name. Ra-May continued as Michall, every ounce the Royal Prince, bowed back.
	“He has informed me that the Del-a-Shar has passed this way.” Michall’s body visibly stiffened.
	“How long ago?” he asked in a tone that Phillip recognized well, a tone that signaled his alarm.
	The little King waved his hand, somehow managing to dismiss the nervous tenseness that Michall displayed.
	With a deep voice that denied his small stature, he replied, “Time? What is time to me and mine? We give no notice to time.”
	He frowned. His brows puckered with the force of his thoughts, before shaking his head and continuing, “I cannot give you the time of his passing in phasings, but I can tell you that it has been within a lifetime.”
	Michall stared oddly at the rotund little king. He didn’t like the sound of his answer. Answer? Why he wasn’t even sure that it had been an answer.
	Ra-May detected the confusion and the growing impatience in his bearing and skillfully moved to intercede.
	“Michall, they are a timeless Race and as such, feel no need to measure life on a calendar. But...” she assured with a smile before tucking her slender arm into the bend of his well-muscled one, “King Bava assures me it is but a distant memory.”
	Michall pulled her close, wanting to shield her from all harm but knew it would be impossible. Wearily, he looked at the little king who fluttered in the air, who in turn looked boldly into Michall’s dark eyes, meeting him stare for stare.
	“I can tell you that the Del-a-Shar is not near, for I would feel his call. I would recognize him as I recognized the Princess...and that which abides in you.”
	Michall glared at the tiny being, wondering if he’d heard him correctly. He started to question him, to ask him what he meant, but then changed his mind. Instead, he replied, “It’s good to know that this ‘Del-a-Shar’ doesn’t hide within the shadows, blade drawn and thirsty for our blood. I take comfort from knowing this. Thank you again for the great aid you have rendered us. I will remain forever grateful. However, we must be away. Time isn’t, I fear, on our side.”
	“I understand. It is time you continue forward but likely you will have need of my Band before your journey is done. My people will warn of danger near at hand.”
	Before anyone could protest, the King whistled a sharp, high-pitched note. Torch took flight instantly, arriving with a flutter of silken wings to wait expectantly before his King.
	“So, with you I shall send on your most important journey my best Warrior, Torch.”
	Michall eyed the tiny Fire Elf skeptically as Torch performed an elegant bow in midair. King Bava acknowledged him with a curt nod of his small head. He was in fine spirits now that he had a chance to finally prove to those of the true blood his people’s worth. He held deep regret for the original sin. He would honor the Water Elves, and one cycle they in turn might release his Band from their eternal prison.
	“Torch is the best of my trackers. He will sense and see the Del-a-Shar’s shadow long before it crosses the path of your mortal eyes.”
	The little king didn’t wait for them to accept, he continued as if they couldn’t refuse an offer such as his. Having given generously, he bowed as elegantly as Torch had done just moments before. “Shine on, little princess,” he saluted. “May the Crystal keep you safe and far from harm. I can only hope in time, when your journey is through and Ra-Jee restored to full bloom, you will ponder our aid. If you see fit, you will have the heart to release us from our foreverness. Until then, I bid you all farewell.” 
	He turned his back to them, signaling his departure. The rest of his Band fluttered to his side and all quickly disappeared into the dense folds of the forest foliage.
	Torch perched himself upon Michall’s shoulder and folded his small, muscular arms across his chest and waited. Every so often he would scowl in Phillip’s direction and grunt.
	Michall studied him, struck with a strange fondness for the little fellow, a fondness he didn’t quite understand.
	He looked like a miniature Ra-Nu, right down to his stubbornly crossed arms and deep menacing scowl. Maybe the resemblance caused the queer emotions. He grinned, having no answer. ‘This journey grows more interesting with each passing moment.’
	Phillip finally broke the prevailing silence created by the Fire Elves departure. “What about this little minx?” he asked, glancing sideways at his newly acquired passenger. “Aren’t you suppose to follow your King home?”
	“Nay,” she giggled. “Where Torch goes, so goes Tilly.”
	“Oh dear,” Phillip groaned.
	The rest of the small party mounted while Phillip stood forgotten upon the road.
	Michall raised his hand and signalled to make ready. He was anxious to be on the road and away from here. Phillip shrugged and mounted his own horse, nudging him forward.
	“Hold tight little lady,” he laughed. “It might become a bit bumpy up there.”
	“I intend too. Aye, tis so.”
	Phillip’s laughter could be heard echoing loudly behind them as they steered their mounts deeper into the ever-present darkness of the Witches’ Wood...

“...The cycles multiplied and stretched before them in a ceaseless march into the unknown future as our friends headed ever westward toward their destiny,” sighed the old Storyteller. “One wondered if they were ever to see the purity of unbridled sunlight again. The woods seemed to encompass and cage...”

Chapter Nineteen
I Will

	Encased in the bleakness of the dense forest’s drab, mournful foliage, the small troop plodded forward. Each cycle remained exactly like the one just experienced, stretching before them in an endless succession. Each path was an extension of one already traveled, leaving them forever surrounded by scenery that refused to change. Time seemed to be suspended within the strange world.
	They neither sensed nor encountered any further vengeful spirits, and for that they were grateful. But still the gloom remained -- oppressive and giving no reassurance of ever again entertaining the full glory of the sun.
	He longed for the feel of a cool breeze caressing his brow and to look up once again into calm, clear skies. Be they sun-streaked or star-crossed, he didn’t care. He just wanted to be away from the Witches’ Wood. Yet despite that, Michall remained in high spirits.
	As the cycles had merged into full turns and a routine had begun to establish itself, he’d let his guard slip. Once relaxed, he’d felt the strain ebb away, leaving him free to be himself...his natural self.
	Reluctantly acknowledging that true nightfall would soon be upon them, he’d sent Torch ahead in hopes of seeing an end in sight or at least an area where the woods thinned, not wishing to make camp in the middle of the path.
	In truth, he wasn’t ready to stop just yet. He didn’t want anyone or anything to intrude upon his euphoria.
	Based on a purely selfish motive, he continued moving forward, vowing to stop when Torch came back with his report. He’d decide what was to be done next once he knew what lay ahead.
	He gazed at Ra-May and smiled. She had become the center of his world. He’d never felt so in tune with his emotions before. Somehow he’d been reborn. He grinned. The world had become a new and adventurous arena.
	Glancing backwards, he spotted Tilly perched peacefully on Phillip’s shoulder, talking nonstop in her tiny, high-pitched voice, while his errant kin seemed intent on trying to coax a conversation from the unmovable Ra-Nu. Every so often a grunt would escape the big Elf, but for the most part the conversation remained one-sided.
	Michall found humor in the absurdity of the situation, thinking Phillip, who was certainly uncomfortable by the tiny Fire Elf’s attentions, might have finally met his match even though she was only four stones high.
	Although it was apparent that his kin hadn’t noticed, Tilly was a lovely and graceful maiden. Even though quite small, one could tell that she would have been considered tall amongst her own kind. She possessed long, flowing, honey-colored hair and eyes as blue as a new morn. Her body was slender and well-toned, and when she could pull herself away from her heart’s desire she was quite intelligent.
	He chuckled at the irony. If Tilly was as tall as the rest of them, she would have had to beat Phillip back with a stick.
	‘What a poor joke,’ Michall thought. ‘Here was the female of Phillip’s desires but still as unattainable in the flesh as she is in his dreams.’
	Satisfied for now that everyone was bearing up to the strain of the journey, he returned his attention back to the trail...content at least for the time being to ride in silence.
	He smirked. ‘Yes...content to center my thoughts on Ra-May.’
	He glanced in her direction, reassuring himself once again that she was real.
	He slowed his mount, allowing her to pull along side of him. Silently he prayed Ra-Nu wouldn’t notice and decide that he wished to speak to him alone, a maneuver Ra-Nu had performed countless times in the many cycles they’d been traveling together.
	Michall knew the ploy and always looked for new ways to get around it. He respected the big guardian, even admired his dogged determination, but Ra-Nu was an obstacle to overcome, a wall he must scale and so he resented him, too.
	When Ra-May was along side, Michall turned and bowed his head in greeting. He was rewarded with her brilliant, engulfing smile, causing his heart to jump into his throat. The gold in her eyes shone radiantly, becoming his own personal sun to chase away the somberness created by the dusky forest.
	Her cheeks, naturally blushed, matched the rosy hue of her full lips. Her golden hair still trapped within the leather thongs of her braid trailed lightly across her shoulder to drop from his sight as it traveled down her back. He longed to see it free of its chords, longed to touch the silky tresses as they danced with the breeze.
	Her Circlet gleamed, winking at him with an incandescent life of its own even where there was no light to give it a reflection. In fact, the forest was growing darker with each stride they took forward, yet the Circlet grew brighter. He was sure of it.
	Joy, so pure it left him breathless, invaded, leaving him lightheaded and giddy. All because of one sweet smile.
	Ra-May watched the play of emotions in Michall’s soft yet stormy eyes. ‘I could lose myself within them,’ she thought. ‘Aye, I could drown in the diverting, dusky pools and not once cry for aid.’
	Those deep, brown eyes...eyes nearly black...were framed by dark lashes that were long, thick, and shielding. Above those liquid eddies waved an ebony mane, recklessly framing his strong features with thick, tapered locks. Flowing with wild abandonment, they ended at his shoulders with a pronounced curl. A leather band bearing the insignia of Doran stamped in its center wrapped itself snugly around his proud brow while the unruly mass it was there to control always appeared on the verge of escaping.
	To her, he was all, everything both beautiful and handsome. But he possessed a very serious nature, always worried about something all the time. She wanted nothing more than to set his worries to flight...release him from the burdens that plagued him.
	Although this cycle was no different than the others, she now sensed his lighter mood. He was at ease, relaxed and magnetic in his manner. He drew her like a lode stone would draw a Sorcerer.
	It had been wondrous to witness his smile when it had been given from the heart without worry to oppress it. To see those enigmatic eyes so like a doe in their gentle coloring reveal their joy was a precious gift.
	“Well,” Michall said as he struggled for something to say. “I suppose we’ll have to find a spot to camp soon.”
	“Aye,” she replied. “But I fear our choice of sites will be poor.”
	“I fear the same, yet another cycle of hard ground and endless shadow to blanket our dreams.”
	“I do not mind,” Ra-May replied thoughtfully. “I feel at home when among the trees and the coolness of their shade.”
	“I had almost forgotten that you were raised within a forest,” Michall murmured softly. He cursed himself a fool. He’d no way of knowing for sure whether mention of her childhood brought pain. It hadn’t been his intention to remind her of it. He wouldn’t willingly cause her grief.
	“It was a pleasurable time,” she said. “A time of wonder and discovery.”
	Tentatively, Michall replied, “It sounds very different from my own childhood. I wish I could’ve shared it with you.”
	“I, too, wish you had been there.”
	Her answer came barely above a whisper. “For if you had, I would have known little of loneliness.”
	His soul reached out, shouting, ‘I’ve known this loneliness, and I’d do anything to keep you from feeling it again.’
	But he remained silent, struggling with his emotions, afraid that when he spoke his voice would shake and reveal his desire. He knew that an abrupt change of subject was needed or things would get out of hand, and the watchdog would be forced to kill him.
	“Ra-May, I, well, I....” he stammered, silently cursing his betraying emotions. ‘Damn, will I always be the fool whenever she is near?’
	“Michall,” she whispered, leaning forward to gently brush his cheek with her fingertips, “please, speak freely.”
	Michall nodded, wishing he could.
	Smiling, she remained quiet, waiting for him to continue.
	“Ra-May,” he began, running a nervous hand through his thick locks. “I realize we’ve only known each other a short time, but I feel like I’ve always known you. Maybe that isn’t quite true, maybe it’s more like I’ve been waiting for you all my life. I can’t be sure that you feel the same, but I think you do.”
	She nodded but didn’t interrupt.
	He wished to discuss the Fire Elves, and their apparent immortality, a subject he’d found distressing yet wondrous. He continued rather unsteadily, “So, I hope you won’t be too distressed when I, well, ask you to consider becoming my wife.”
	He couldn’t believe he’d just spoken his heart so openly. He really was wearing his heart on his sleeve for someone to slice to ribbons. Truly he was a fool.
	Ra-May’s smile lit her eyes as she answered, “Michall, I am honored. I wish a life-bond with you...but hear me, for it cannot be unless you understand the truth of the bonding.”
	He gave her a dark, puzzled frown as she reached out, taking his hand in hers. “You know very little about my Race. You have asked no soul searching questions,” she sighed. “To life-bond is to join as one...forever. Only death shall release you. Shall you still feel the same once you know what it is that I am destined to do? Shall you walk my path and forsake your own?”
	“I have given this a great deal of thought.” Although he wondered why he’d blurted it out like he had. This dreamed for moment certainly hadn’t happened like he’d imagined it. This suddenness wasn’t a part of his character. He was a person of careful thought and planning not prone to spontaneous actions or flights of fancy, or so he’d thought.
	“I stand before you, emotions bared for all to see, saying it doesn’t matter. I will love you until I draw my last breath. It is all I could ever wish for.”
	“Yet, Michall, what of my blood and the difference of my Race?”
	“I’ve accepted you in my heart and so accept all you represent. My love sees no differences. Can your Race accept me?”
	“That is something I cannot answer. Only time can sing that song.”
	“Ra-May, please don’t think that I give my heart lightly. I think I’ve loved you since I first saw your vision etched upon the silvery waters of the forest pool. Whatever the price I’ll pay it! I would rather die than be shut away from you.”
	It was a sad smile that played across her face. Michall watched it form and was suddenly afraid to hear her reply.
	She looked deeply into molten eyes ablaze with the truth of his words and knew that there was never really anything she could or would have done to dissuade him.
	Sighing, she thought, ‘Aye, and the price that you speak of, my heart, could be a high one...your life may well be forfeit.’
	Leaving her fears buried, she proclaimed, “Then, my Prince, I agree to life-bond here and now. I do not give my heart so lightly either.”
	“What? What did you just say?” Michall nearly shouted. He couldn’t believe she’d just agreed to be his wife. He’d been so sure she was about to turn him away. His pulse was racing twice as fast as it should, but he didn’t care. He was soaring high among the clouds and wasn’t sure he’d ever touch the ground again. “Do you mean right here, right now?”
	She nodded, as a life-bond was nothing more than a pledge between two individuals to stay together, honoring each other and their lives. It was meant to be said in private, for it was between them and them alone.
	Extending her hand out to him, she added, “Be warned, my heart, you may find my love a heavy burden to hold.”
	Michall shook his head to deny it.
	In a solemn tone she began to recite her pledge. He sat in silence, intent on hearing each and every syllable.
	“I give to you my soul to hold near yours forever,” she began as she pulled his hand once more to her, cradling it gently above her heart.
	He pulled hers to him in perfect mimicry and felt her fingertips rest gently above his own racing heart.
	She met his eyes, holding them spellbound to her own as she continued, “I pledge my life upon this bond. Will you return my faith, love, and trust?”
	Michall drank deeply of her golden orbs, seeing the truth reflected there. Without realizing he knew the words, he began to recite his own oath.
	“With my life, I bond to thee, merging our souls into one, fusing our lives into a new and stronger way. It is a bond of souls, of love, and of life. It is a bond that none shall break. It flows into forever. I accept your pledge. Do you accept mine?”
	“Aye, I will.”
	Michall leaned down from his mount and swept her onto his lap before kissing her. An action he’d dreamt of taking for a long time.
	The world around them spun away. There was no one save for the two of them and they were as one. He held the sun within his arms and rejoiced in the warmth, the confusion concerning the Fire Elves completely forgotten.
	And then their euphoric, private world was loudly and quite rudely, shattered by one lone Elf known as Ra-Nu. Ever the warrior, he drew his sword and demanded that Michall release his charge.
	Phillip rode up to Michall’s other side and asserted, “Tch, dear boy. I told you once he had a rather long leash. I do understand the temptation but not the insanity.”
	By this time Michall had released Ra-May, safely setting her down upon the ground. Dismounting quickly, he again drew her into his embrace. Standing firm, he waited for the furious Ra-Nu to either attempt to run him through or calm down enough to hear reason.
	Unexpectedly, the warrior Elf turned on Ra-May, arms waving wildly as his rising voice demanded, “Sprite, what is it you have done?”
	Ra-May turned her gaze away from Ra-Nu to look longingly into her mate’s serious visage. Not taking her eyes from him, she answered, “You suspect, now know it is so, I have life-bonded.”
	“Ra-May!” Ra-Nu wailed. Turning, he kicked a clump of dirt that lay in the path. They could hear his muffled curses trailing behind him as he stormed a few paces off. “Patience, there is never enough patience in the young!”
	“What’s going on here?” Phillip asked, not entirely sure of what had just transpired. “What harm is there in one small kiss?”
	Ra-Nu swung around to face him. In full anger he was an alarming fellow.
	Phillip backed up a step.
	“You, little man, do not understand, of that I am sure. They,” he swung an accusing finger toward Michall and Ra-May, “understand all too well!”
	“Well then, Michall, Ra-May...would one of you care to enlighten me?”
	“I have life-bonded with Michall.”
	“Oh, well, now that makes everything clear as mud,” he replied, throwing his arms upward while rolling his eyes skyward.
	Michall placed Ra-May behind him and stepped into Ra-Nu’s line of vision. “Ra-Nu, I won’t apologize for what we’ve done. I ask that you put aside your anger. If not, then I’m prepared to defend our actions.”
	“That’s right!” ever faithful Phillip chimed in. “I’m sure that whatever it is he’s done he had sound reasons for it.”
	“Aye, princeling,” Ra-Nu sneered. “What is it you have done? Do you understand the test of blood and the duties that take you out beyond your simple mortal existence?”
	“I understand,” he stated through clutched teeth. “My Race has a similar bonding, although we call it by another name.”
	Michall stared at the big Elf, refusing to back down. “My people call it marriage.”
	“Aye, but by Ra-Jee’s laws it cannot be broken...except in death.”
	“By my law, onto myself, I would have it no other way.”
	With his shoulders slumping, his head hanging low, and his hands planted firmly on his hips, Ra-Nu turned away. Then, quite promptly, he swung about, his movement so unexpected that Michall had to steel every nerve in his body to stand firm.
	“So, this is the way of it. I see I have but one choice left me,” each word moving Ra-Nu closer to Michall.
	Phillip, alarmed, stealthy maneuvered behind his kin. He needed to be in position to defend him if it came down to it. Ra-Nu’s speech worried him, especially the ‘death we do part’ bit.
	Ra-May stood apart from them all as if watching a lottery and she was the prize.
	Michall waited. Every nerve in his body on alert. The thought had already crossed his mind that he might see death long before he’d thought it would visit.
	Ra-Nu moved ever closer, the firm set of his mouth unreadable. In one swift motion he met the ground with one knee and bowed deeply, his forehead brushing the path.
	Ra-May smiled down at his sun-streaked hair while the two humans could only stare.
	“Ra-Nu, I knew you would understand.”
	In a less than enthusiastic voice, Ra-Nu vowed, “As I once served Ar-Ion, my King, and my land, Ra-Jee, so may I now serve you, Prince Michall. I pledge to you my courage, my loyalty, and I hope,” he mumbled as he met Michall’s stare, “that you prove worthy.”
	“Well,” Phillip chimed in. “This little journey grows more and more promising. Come, come big fellow, off your knees. It really is a most uncomfortable position,” he teased.
	Then laughing, he added, “I know, I’ve been down there enough myself!”
	That said, he winked at Ra-May and slapped Michall soundly on the back. “I wish I had a good brandy to drink to your health but alas,” he sighed as he reached into his saddlebags, “only grapes! Let us hope that they haven’t soured.”
	He pulled the cork, tipped to their union, and then graciously passed the wine jug amongst them. Ra-Nu took it from Phillip, eyed Michall long and hard, then dipped the neck in salute before raising it to his lips.
	“I for one am happy for you, Michall,” Phillip sighed, wistfully summoning an image of his own dream goddess. “Yet I find I don’t envy you. I wouldn’t like to be present when you announce this to your parents but well...”
	He left his words hanging with all the implications weighing heavily in the still air.
	Michall extended his hand toward Ra-Nu, “I promise that no harm will befall her. I love her more than I love my own life.”
	Ra-Nu studied him closely and knew that he saw the truth of the lad...or perhaps the man. He then held out his own hand, and the two clasped firm. Each had made their choice.
	“Crystal guide us!” Ra-Nu murmured while thinking, ‘Something would have to, for I am being totally led by mere children.’
	Loudly, wanting all to hear, Ra-Nu answered Michall’s heart given words, “It is all I ask. It may well come to that -- your life for hers,” he finished seriously.
	Ra-Nu allowed the somber cloud that had been his burden to carry to drift away from his soul to be replaced with a calm he had not known in many phasings.
	“I knew this would be the outcome when you two set eyes upon each other. Sadly, I had hoped to postpone it...but, so be it. One cannot argue with fate. The Crystal seems to want things her way.”
	Tilly snuggled close, seeking the warmth of Phillip’s neck. She sighed, “Tis so romantic, do you not think so? Does it not give you notions of your own, my pretty human?”
	Phillip’s face turned slightly crimson. He made an effort to speak but couldn’t find his voice, the wine suddenly clogging in his throat to choke him.
	Feeling as if he must say something, he turned to get a better view of the tiny being. “I don’t wish to upset you, my lady, but as you are surely aware, we seem to be worlds apart. Therefore, I see no way we could ever entertain ideas concerning marriage.”
	“Do you ask me to bond?” Tilly asked. Giggling, she fluttered her glossy wings rapidly. “Tis so, I will.”
	“You what? No, no, you’ve misunderstood. I didn’t...I can’t!”
	“It does not matter,” Tilly cooed. “When all trouble has passed, then the Crystal will show us the way. I will wait, my pretty human, holding your heart within mine until that time.”
	She smiled at her beloved and sighed again.
	‘The damn girl was always sighing,’ Phillip thought.
	“I will tell Torch of our news. He will want to aid us in our plans.”
	‘I wonder what plans Torch will make!’ Phillip smirked, resigning himself to play along for the time being. Somehow, he would make the tiny flutterbug understand their differences, and then all would be fine. Of course, he was going to have to make sure Torch didn’t kill him in his sleep first. ‘Ha, I’m always up for a little excitement.’
	Tilly snuggled into Phillip’s neck and began to purr. He looked toward Ra-Nu, “What do I do now?”
	“Grin and bear it, little man. Time will tell if you are duty-bound.”
	“What do you mean, ‘duty-bound’?”
	“Hmm,” Ra-Nu said, his tone quite serious. “You cannot life-bond if you are dead.”
	“Dead?” Phillip gulped, barely keeping himself from screaming.
	Ra-Nu shrugged and turned away. He was done talking. Let the little man fret. It would do him good. He cleared brush away from the path and began to unroll his blanket kit.
	“This,” he announced flatly, “looks as good a place to camp as any other. Do you not agree, princeling?”
	Michall looked around. “You seem to have the right of it, Ra-Nu. I fear there won’t be a better spot ahead. We’ll spend second cycle here.”
	“Make camp!” Ra-Nu bellowed.

Chapter Twenty
Follow Me

	They’d set camp up quickly. The tasks, although varied, were performed so often that it had become routine: Ra-Nu and Phillip gathered the firewood, Michall and Ra-May prepared the late meal, while each traveler remained responsible for their own pallets. Torch and Tilly’s fire magic came in handy as they could always spark blazing life to any wood.
	Once the meal was consumed and cleared, they retired. The cycle’s ride, coupled with the strain of sitting a saddle for so long, had defeated them, leaving them sore and weary.
	Blanket kits were placed near the fire and nearer still to each other. It was a matter of protection and all understood that privacy was a luxury none could afford.
	Michall sat near the fire, mindlessly tending the flame. His thoughts as always centered on Ra-May. Understanding that he wouldn’t be alone with his bride for a long time, probably for the duration of their journey, he wondered if he could learn the jest of this ‘patience’ Ra-Nu was so fond of preaching about.
	He was, if he were to be honest, a bit afraid of being alone with her. Never before had he felt such strong emotions. The intensity frightened yet intrigued him -- sure he’d die from its spell.
	Love, he felt, was a grand and wondrous thing, but a scary path he’d not trudged willingly before. Love of home, love of family and friends; these were emotions he was acquainted with. The raw and savage love of a kindred soul, of a woman taken as a partner in life, one you would gladly lay down your life for, this was something he had no experience with. Yet he welcomed and embraced it.
	It was a new leaf in his life and he intended to face each turn with a full heart and an adventurous soul. He would be both whole and separate, weak and strong.
	Torch had returned shortly after the meal had been served, just as the forest surrendered totally to the invading darkness. He’d flown straight to Michall.
	“My Prince, onward the road divides. One a southerly course while the other wanders north.”
	Michall nodded but chose to say nothing.
	Torch continued, “This northern route would take us into a village. It is,” he hesitated, “populated by humans,” he spat out rather harshly. “I am sorry, but I trust not your kind.”
	Michall nodded again, taking no offense.
	Torch’s head hung downward, reluctant to meet Michall’s stare as he continued his report, “Away from the village, the road once again turns, changing its course, heading in a northeastern direction.”
	“What of the southern course? Does it, too, force us into populated areas?”
	“Nay, it only winds deeper into the forest.”
	Michall sat beside Ra-May as she lay in her own blanket kit and watched her body relaxing, slowly fading into a state of near slumber.
	He remained silent, pondering Torch’s report.
	He thought about the two paths with great care. He knew that the way to go was south. The waterlands lay to the western regions -- and he knew that the southern road turned gradually toward the west, straight to where they needed to be. It was the shortest route to take but not necessarily the safest.
	Now, if they were to head north for awhile, going where no one would expect, especially if they were expected -- he must assume they were -- it would be an easy task to misdirect their foes and then turn west at some junction along the trail, but it would mean heading directly into the village.
	Unfortunately, it would also mean a longer journey. Eventually, they’d have to double back and retrace lost ground.
	He shrugged. Let whomever or whatever think them lost. North it would be!
	Michall snapped a twig between his fingers, causing eyes to turn in his direction. Looking up and seeing them awake and curious, he shrugged, ‘No better time than now to speak of my decision.’ He would give them time to sleep on it. Come first cycle if there were objections, he’d deal with it then.
	He announced, “I’ve decided that we’ll turn north come first cycle’s light. I believe it would be to our advantage to vary our course. Later we’ll once again turn south and eventually west. I have no way of telling if this Del-a-Shar knows of us or if the shadows tell of our movements, but I think we should assume it is so.”
	Ra-Nu agreed. To vary was to keep others in question. It was a sound move. “Your words ring of logic, princeling. But you speak of the west as our true destination? Where do you lead us?”
	All eyes were turned upon him. The silence closed in, trapping him in its void. He shattered its walls by stating strongly, “I know that the one we seek reigns in the west in an area known as Sol.”
	He reached down and took Ra-May’s hand, enfolding it within his own and gently stroked her palm.
	“Then, we follow your lead and head north while all the time veering west. It can be done, even if I must chop the woods from our way to make our path.”
	Ra-Nu saluted before stretching his sore muscles. “As for me, I seek my pallet. I have no doubt your route will confuse the Del-a-Shar...it has me.”
	He laughed loudly as he turned to seek his own blankets.
	Michall called out to him. “One more thing, Ra-Nu.”
	The Elf turned, waiting expectantly.
	“Come first cycle we’ll be taking a route that will bring us into direct contact with others of my kind...a human village!” he said, purposely directing his gaze to Ra-May, then Torch, and finally, Tilly.
	Ra-Nu’s answering nod said he understood.
	“What do you propose?”
	Michall shrugged, “I’ve no idea. I’d hoped that you would.”
	“It is certain we will not wish to attract attention. Let me ponder upon it. I shall seek you out come the new dawn.”
	“Until dawn.”
	Michall watched Ra-Nu take himself off to his blankets. With a heavy sigh, he turned to resume his uneventful stare of the flickering flames. Sleep escaped him.
	‘Maybe I should send Torch ahead early and see if it was possible to skirt the village,’ he thought. ‘Maybe that would be better then going through.’
	He broke a twig and fed its halves to the hungry flames. “Because going through is going to draw a lot of attention,” he whispered.
	With a smile expertly etched across his face, he glanced down at Ra-May, hoping a smile would ease any worries. To his chagrin he saw that worry was an emotion they did not share.
	His stomach lurched.
	“Oh no, my sweet. This isn’t going to be a picnic by the water. Have you ever heard of cutthroats and robbers? Men who would sell their own mothers to make a profit? I rather doubt that you have. Believe me -- you, my sweet, would be their main target. No, you’ll have to think of this as more than just a mere adventure.”
	“Michall, do not fret so,” she said as she sat up. Tucking her blankets about her like a cloak, she looked up into his stern face. “I will do nothing to draw attention. I promise. Yet everything I encounter is an adventure, all the world a wonder. It is as if I have just been born.”
	He reached down and took her chin in his fingers to gently caress her with his thumb. Slowly, he lowered his head to taste her lips, “I understand, my love. I truly do. I still must insist you treat it as a danger. If you’re harmed, then I will surely die.”
	There was no need to answer. She would never wish to harm him...yet...the excitement was there again, but this time she wasn’t sure it was entirely because of the village.
	He whispered his ‘good eves’ and crawled into his own blankets. With Ra-May beside him he easily drifted into the land of dreams...and awoke with a start. Something was different, something unknown stirred within the darkness.
	The breezes rustled the foliage over his head, and a voice rose, fighting to be heard over the soft whisper of the living forest.
	He sat up and pushed aside hair hanging limp before his eyes. Sweat ran freely from his brow, and his skin itched with the static charging the air.
	The voice grew, its swoon distinctive, one he knew, but he couldn’t give it a name. It called out to him, compelling him to follow. He rose to obey.
	A soft, silvery light flickered upon the path, bobbing seductively. As he drew nearer, it grew, expanding and changing until it was twice his height and taking on the semblance of a woman...a woman made of light.
	She shimmered before him, her visage unclear yet clear, changing yet unchanging. He thought her beautiful beyond any he had known, but then when he looked harder no discernible features could be seen.
	He stepped back, afraid of the indistinct shape forming before him.
	It called him forward, its voice soft...its tone, caring, “I am here to show you a reality. If it is yours to claim, only you may decide. Come, take my hand.”
	“Who are you?” he whispered. “Why do I feel I know you?”
	“Because you do, child. Because you do.”
	“What?” he stammered.
	“I am the spirit of the ‘Guardian Well’.”
	“What?” he repeated yet knew it was the only answer he was going to receive.
	He nodded, accepting her presence even if he didn’t understand. Stepping into the light, he took her outstretched hand and was instantly transformed, becoming as she, a being filled with the warm, soft light.
	He felt many sensations in this new state of being; wonder, reverence, exhilaration, jubilation...but not fear, remaining calm while holding her hand.
	Her voice rolled over him, rose above him, floated below him, completely surrounded him. “There are events awaiting you, choices to be made. I show one that might have been overlooked. The choice remains yours and yours alone. I may only seek to enlighten.”
	Remaining confused, he questioned, “Choice?”
	The light flickered and dimmed. Seeming to shrug, it wavered. He heard a soft sigh and no more. He thought himself abandoned...and grew weary.
	“Do not be alarmed,” the voice directed as the light grew brighter and the strong presence of the Guardian could be felt once again. “I can only seek to enlighten. I am not permitted otherwise.”
	“Then lead on,” Michall directed. “I would see these choices.”
	The light flickered again and grew brighter still, becoming a blazing glare that should have blinded him, but he was able to look about without hurting his sight.
	He was lifted off the ground and taken above the tree tops to finally breach the forest gloom that had become his norm. The sky was brilliant with stars, and the eventide of second cycle was soft and charming, lit by the gentle glow of a brilliant moon. He could only stare at the open expanse before him, a foolish grin spreading across his face.
	Propelled forward, he was told to look down. Beneath him he saw the path he and his companions were to travel come first cycle, and he saw the place where it divided just as Torch had stated.
	They turned to follow the north trail as he’d already surmised that they must and saw that the forest was steadily thinning.
	He strained to see beyond the woods and thought he could just make out the edges of the village. It would help if he could get closer, see somehow what type of people dwelled there, but he was denied.
	They turned again, this time angling right and plugging back into the dense forest.
	He thought at first that they were doubling back toward camp and felt strangely reluctant to return. It didn’t take long to realize that he wasn’t heading toward his companions but to a clearing hidden deep within the Wood.
	Darkness here was complete, refusing to be chased away by their presence. He was left blind not by the light but by the obscureness beyond. He could still sense there was something in the distance, something unearthly.
	As a moth is attracted to light, so now was he drawn to this unknown something. Drawing nearer, he saw it. Nearer still and he felt its presence, its power surging forward to engulf him. Its invisible limbs reaching toward him, pulling him to it.
	Gasping, he tried to halt his forward momentum, somehow realizing that if he drew too close he would die. Panic wailed up from deep within and built, promising to escape him in the form of a scream, but the Guardian interceded, calming him with its familiar voice.
	“Be at ease, child. It is but a choice. One not made. It cannot harm while I am near.”
	It took great effort, but he forced his panic down.
	Unlike the Guardian’s light, this light controlled the blackness about them and held court from its depth.
	He squinted, bringing his hand up to shield his eyes. The source of the strange light was coming from something standing within the core of the blackness.
	Compelled, he looked into the light and saw a tree, but no tree he’d ever seen could compare to it. Its massive limbs climbed up toward the sky in a pose of perpetual pleading, but he sensed that pleading was something it had never done. With its broad, sweeping leaves and glowing trunk, it was an idol to be worshipped.
	He became aware of other sounds...wails...reaching out to him, emitting from within the tree. Somehow sensing his presence, they reached out to him. He pulled back, alarmed that he could feel their probing.
	“A Well of Souls...” supplied the Guardian.
	He wondered if the light acted like a beacon to those who became dispirited... ‘Come to me’, it might coax. ‘I will ease the burden of life...I will cradle you in my warm light, keeping you warm...forever.’
	His mind shuddered.
	He wasn’t sure why he thought so, but he knew that he didn’t trust the tree or whatever being dwelled within. The wind rustled through its man-sized leaves, reminding him of a serpent hissing.
	He felt the sensation of its hot breath run along his neck. He heard the sorrowful moans and shivered.
	On and on the hissing went until his fevered mind began to think he actually understood words buried within.
	“Bringggg the girlll......Bringggg.......theeee girlll...............Setttt meee freeee!”
	Over and over it droned.
	Unable to stand it a moment longer, he found himself begging to be released from the agony. The Guardian responded, pulling away from the clearing and returning him to camp.
	He blinked against the sudden darkness, discovering that he was once again surrounded by the dreariness of the Witches’ Wood.
	The Guardian’s essence began to fold in upon itself, much the same as the water’s of his silvery pool had done. The light was waning quickly, shrinking to a small ball. The voice, now a mere whisper, instructed, “Remember, child. The choice is yours, the choice has always been yours.”
	Then he was alone.
	He couldn’t stop his heart’s pounding nor cease his nervous, wide-eyed scan of the area.
	He vowed, “One I will not take, and a path I will not follow.”
	He knew what that presence had wanted, and it would just have to be disappointed. There would be no girl for it to devour, not if he could help it.
	Silently, he thanked whatever power had stepped forward to show him the danger that lay ahead as he moved closer to the fire.
	He tossed and turned. His mind fevered with thoughts while his body shivered against an inner cold that chilled him down and through his very bones.
	He didn’t pretend to understand magic or its effects. He couldn’t risk her life on a hunch, could he?
	Suddenly he was reshaping his original decision and didn’t really understand why. He sensed danger and he usually trusted his instincts to see him safe. So now why was he beginning to think that maybe he needed to show Ra-May that damnable tree?
	He was tired. He couldn’t think clearly. Shrugging, he scrubbed his hands over his face. “Strange powers are at work this eve. Who am I to question the wisdom. I am only human after all. I’ll bow to the greater power.”
	He remained awake the rest of the second cycle, unwilling to dream and not at all anxious for their next adventure to begin.
	Beside him in her own blankets, Ra-May smiled as she rolled over on her side.

Chapter Twenty-one
From the Past Delivered

	The early dawn arrived entangled in frustrated struggles, trying in vain to beat back the forest darkness. It was a futile battle that would be fought hard the entire first cycle. Come second, the sun would fall back once again in exhausted defeat. Michall thought of its war and sighed wearily. Nature never gave up. Cycle after cycle it fought this same battle and others just as disappointing, over and over again.
	He was saddened by the coming of dawn. He supposed sitting up all through second cycle hadn’t helped him in the least. ‘Maybe,’ he thought, ‘I’m one of those unfortunate few who will forever be doomed to search but never find lasting happiness.’
	He shook himself hard like a dog who had encountered a large puddle of water. He wanted to shake off the gloom that was threatening to completely possess him.
	He sat alone and listened to the sounds of the forest as it awoke. The unknown creatures that stirred endlessly in the darkness now gave way to those of the light, one odd sound being replaced with a newer one. All around him the world came alive.
	Wiping at eyelids that remained heavy, hiding eyes refusing to focus, Phillip rose first. He announced himself with a yawn as he stretched. Stumbling, he mumbled while making his way toward the fire, then smiled lamely as he sought a comfortable spot near the flames.
	“Well, I dare say, dear boy, marriage does seem to agree with you.” Phillip stated.
	“How can you tell that by just looking at me?” Michall replied. Inwardly, he braced for the inevitable.
	“Ah, well that’s easy to answer,” Phillip replied as he pondered the stubble of growth on his chin. He’d noticed Michall’s dark mood immediately upon rising and the smudges of shadow beneath his eyes. His whole body sagged as if some great weight had been placed there. His voice carried the sluggish slowness of weariness while his gaze seemed unfocused and far away. “Why Michall, you’re a mess. It looks like you’ve been out wining and wenching most of second cycle.”
	Michall eyed him stormily, “And just how does that remark go with the first?”
	“Ah, now that’s easy, too. You look like a man who’s been married a lifetime and decided to wine and dine the cycle away without your lady. Which is what all long-timers eventually result to, isn’t it?”
	“Please do be quite, Phillip. You tire me.”
	Seeing his cousin’s chagrin, he punched him lightly on the shoulder.
	Phillip rubbed the spot but smiled at him anyway. “Honestly now, why have you so obviously spent the cycle awake and alone by the fire? If it was warmth that you craved, it is to my thinking that Ra-May would’ve been by far the better choice.”
	Michall only shrugged, neither taking offense nor offering defense.
	“Come now! What has you in such a mood?” Phillip coaxed.
	“I’m really not ‘In a mood’ as you call it, Phillip. I know you can’t recognize it, but I’ll call it by name so you’ll know it when it comes again. It’s called ‘deep in thought’!”
	Phillip chuckled at the jab and waited for Michall to continue as he knew he would.
	Michall glanced his way and shrugged again. “I dreamt quite strangely last eve, and the oddness of it woke me, that is all. I found that I was reluctant to dream again so instead came here to watch the flames. I had no wish to wake anyone with my restlessness.”
	“I see. It’s becoming quite clear to me now. It’s perfectly understandable, and dare I say very considerate on your part. Why, you poor, dear boy,” Phillip cooed. Shaking his head, he flashed him one of his ‘hell-bent-on-mischief’ smiles and reached over to pat him fondly on the back. “So the honeymoon is over, huh? Even before it has begun.”
	He laughed, continuing in a rush before Michall had time to recover. “So she’s finally seen the error of her ways has she? She’s tossed you over. It really was me after all, wasn’t it?”
	Michall swung his head around, pinning Phillip with a cold stare. He’d known Phillip’s intent from the beginning but thought it wouldn’t hurt to remind him of the depth of his feelings at least as far as Ra-May was concerned.
	Upon facing him, witnessing the mischief that practically jumped out at him from his kin’s blue, blue eyes, he laughed, unable to hold his hard glare.
	Phillip had defeated him yet again. He shook his head from side-to-side, marveling at his audacity.
	“Phillip, I honestly don’t know how you have the energy or for that matter the time to needle me as you do.”
	“I do try to allot myself the time, dear boy. It’s written into my daily schedule. It has become a habit now.” Phillip laughed and squirmed a little, trying to find a more comfortable position.
	“Now,” he said seriously, laying a hand on Michall’s knee, “tell me of this dream, and why it kept you up most of second cycle.”
	“Not just yet. I’d like to tell the others when they wake. Let’s wait, and let me tell it only once. I want everyone to have a say before we proceed.”
	Phillip reached for the coffee brewing on the fire. After pouring himself a mug, he sipped it in silence, waiting for the others to join them.
	He noticed that Michall hadn’t wasted his vigil by the fire. Breakfast had been prepared along with the coffee. He was impressed to say the least. He also hadn’t failed to notice that Michall was once again as silent and distant as a tomb.
	Phillip shook himself away from that comparison. He’d never been one who would enter a burial vault or cross the land of the dead if he could help it. It was a childhood fear, but one that had tagged along with him as he’d grown to manhood. The images that death brought to him were chilling. He decided it was best to concentrate on something else.
	He resigned himself to waiting until the others arrived. ‘Nothing for it,’ he thought.
	He wondered about Michall’s dream while he waited, knowing his kin had been plagued by strange dreams since he was a child. Still, Michall was being very mysterious. It was all he could do not to bother him again. He contemplated jumping up and screaming so they would all come running at once but decided against such actions. He’d never enjoyed secrets, but those he didn’t know he loathed.
	As it turned out, he didn’t have to wait long.
	Torch and Ra-Nu awoke and loudly descended upon them, the solitude of the dawn gone forever. They went straight for the food.
	It always amused him how very much alike they seemed. Never mind the fact that one was tall and one was very small. It was more in their manners and attitudes. They thought alike, reacted the same, and both bore that same powerful, commanding look. To him, there really wasn’t any difference.
	And they truly seemed to enjoy each others company. That in itself was a puzzler. He’d fancied them loners, having the impression that neither would enjoy the company of another for too long.
	While Torch and Ra-Nu attacked the food, Tilly floated over to land softly on Phillip’s shoulder with yet another contented sigh.
	He smiled down at her. He was becoming quite accustomed to her presence. If he was to be honest, at least to himself, he would have missed her if she wasn’t around.
	“Fair lady, I trust you slept well?”
	“Tis so. I thank you for asking,” answering before the ever-present sigh escaped her parted lips.
	Torch grumped between bites. Whatever he mumbled was lost to Phillip. Ra-Nu looked first to Phillip and then to Michall and then back again to Phillip. He raised his thumb and poked it in Michall’s direction with one eyebrow raised in silent query. Phillip shrugged and Ra-Nu nodded.
	Finally, Ra-May made her way to the fire, nodding her greetings as she came near but refusing to stop until she was standing directly in front of her mate. She lifted his hand to her heart, holding it firmly in place. With her other hand, she caressed his dark hair.
	Her touch seemed to charge him, creating an awareness where before there had been only a dulled acceptance, having neither emotion nor reaction to mark him among the living. Suddenly he looked up, surprise clearly written upon his face as he noticed his companions assembled before him by the fire.
	She pulled his chin up so that he was looking directly into her eyes. Then in a near whisper she said, “Michall, I must know something.”
	He looked into her eyes and the tension faded from his body.
	“Have you ever heard of a tree so large and so mass that it seems to eat all light? A tree aglow with ancient wisdom?”
	Michall flinched.
	“How can you possibly know?” his confused voice whispered.
	Ra-Nu’s interest was piqued. Something was afoot here. He sensed it in their behavior, yet he could not quite put a name to it.
	As if mesmerized, Michall squeezed her hand and in a rush asked, “Why do you ask? What has caused you to seek this tree? What has given you a belief that it exists?”
	“I dreamt, and it filled me with its presence. It called to me. Here,” she said as she pointed to her temple, “in my mind. I hear it even now, sighing on the wind. I can still recall its voice as it pleaded for my help. I envision it even now as it appeared to me in my dreams.”
	His body trembled as he asked, “Does it glow, this tree of yours?”
	One question blended into another as they shared their visions. Ra-May was in agreement with each question Michall asked. The tree was one and the same. Together they produced an excitement that wrapped a static veil tightly about them.
	“I, too, heard it. Its voice cried out to me on the breezes. Yes, I know this tree.”
	“Alas, Michall, I cannot find it. It cries to me, but when I search I cannot see.”
	“It revealed itself to me. I believe I know where it is and how we can find it if it really exists.”
	“Nay, I believe it was real and true. Even now I feel its call.”
	The others sat watching them, none wanting to break the spell the two seemed embroiled in. None except Ra-Nu. He still had enough wits about him to demand explanations. He was Elf and tasted magic flowing in the air. He had no doubt as to whose it was.
	“What in the name of the Crystal is taking place here? What tree and what trip?”
	“Jolly good point, old man,” Phillip chimed in. “Please do tell us what all this fuss is about?”
	“And please, do hurry,” Phillip put in at the last moment as he watched the menacing scowl spread across Ra-Nu’s face. “Before my fine friend here gets too agitated.”
	Michall turned toward them, his stare vacant and far away. In a quiet, unemotional tone he related his vision to the others and then waited for the rumble that was sure to follow. In the furious form of Ra-Nu, the questions began.
	“If I hear aright, you think to take us to this tree and hand Ra-May over to it!” he thundered. “Not while I live. By thunder, princeling, what has happened to your good judgement? You act bewitched!”
	Suddenly, recognition dawned in Ra-Nu’s mind. Before he could fully comprehend, Ra-May smoothly distracted him.
	“Ra-Nu, you are perceiving danger where I feel none. I agree with Michall that this is something that must be done.”
	“I feel that this is a trap...a very clever one!” he stormed, pointing an accusing finger at Michall. “And I feel that something or someone has robbed our princeling of his senses!”
	“Enough!” Michall’s voice resounded. “Ra-Nu, I would never place my heart so openly as to allow it to be pierced, or anyone else. We must seek out this tree. It might make the difference between defeat or success. It seems that there was never any other choice to be considered.”
	“You feel as if you are compelled to go there and do this?”
	“Yes, Ra-Nu. I feel it quite strongly.”
	“And you?” he asked as he looked at Ra-May.
	“Aye, I do,” stated softly from one who would not meet his eyes.
	“All of you? Do you all agree with this insanity?” he asked as his eyes flicked quickly over them.
	“Well,” Phillip stood and offered a reluctant answer, “I go where they go...but I’ll go with my sword drawn.”
	Torch agreed. Tilly only looked upon Phillip and sighed. They all knew that she’d go where he chose to go.
	“It would seem I am outnumbered,” Ra-Nu stated the obvious. “I concede that we are to go, but be it known that I like it not. Like the little man, I go prepared.”
	Ra-Nu ate his meal in the company of silence, his thoughts troubled. When he had first heard them talk of this tree, he, too, had thought it should be investigated. But when Michall had said he felt compelled, then he had grown suspicious.
	In the short time he had known the lad, he had found the young princeling to be weary. So why the abrupt change? While on the other hand, Ra-May it seemed was acting unusually lighthearted.
	“What could Sprite be about?” he mumbled.
	He could not seem to put a finger on it. Every time he thought he had the answer, it flitted away unrecognized. He felt magic charging the air, its taste sour.
	‘There it is...’ he realized. But just as he went to trap it, Torch disturbed his thoughts.
	“We leave,” he informed.
	Ra-Nu sighed. Perhaps it would come again. As he made his way toward the others, he was already adjusting his mental state for battle. ‘I am a warrior. It is time to act as one.’ 
	With the horses loaded and Michall in the lead, the little group departed at an easy gait. Soon they’d reached the fork in the road and turned north.
	Ra-Nu gazed toward the southern route. ‘Never mind,’ he resolved. ‘I am in this for the long haul.’
	He felt like they were heading down a blinded trail into the unknown and did not like the feel of it.
	The forest that had kept them locked in darkness began to thin. More and more light filtered through the overhanging foliage as they trudged forward. The air took on a fresh and clean smell, promising a full return to first cycle. No more were they forced to smell the overriding musty smells of decomposing leaves and other forest oddities. The rays of the sun warmed them, bringing cheer to their spirits.
	They hadn’t ridden far when Michall raised his hand to signal a halt. He scanned to his right, searching for something, his head moving from side-to-side, surveying into the thinning forest.
	Brushing moist hair from his forehead, Michall whispered, “Come on you greedy mass of vegetation, give up your secrets.”
	“At last,” he sighed as he spied the opening. He motioned to them and turned his mount to the right to disappear into the shadows. After a moments hesitation, the rest moved to follow.
	The path they rode upon was grown over, and in places, hard to get through, but it still clung fleetingly to the impressions of having once been a well-maintained road.
	Sharing the same edginess, Ra-Nu and Phillip drew their swords as they plunged deeper into the foliage. Torch flew ahead, scouting for hidden traps that might be laid in wait. He spoke to no one and would not unless he sensed danger. His silence was an assurance to Ra-Nu.
	Everything was as it had been in his vision. Expelling shaky breath, Michall realized that he’d actually been here. There were no more doubts as to whether it had been a dream.
	‘The spirits really are aiding me.’
	Then suddenly, he thought, ‘Why am I here?’ And closely following that question came another. ‘And why have I brought the rest of them with me?’
	He didn’t remember agreeing to bring anyone here. No, he’d been set against it. But now there seemed to be a gap in his memory.
	He turned, determined to stop the group but suddenly changed his mind as a gentle mantle of calmness swept through his defenses. The emotion came from no where yet from all around, and he felt content again to continue onward, a serene tranquility remaking his features.
	All at once they broke free of the wood and entered a clearing. Everywhere they looked they could see beautiful green grass and wild blooming floral...a paradise hidden within the dark prison created by the encompassing forest.
	Michall’s breath escaped him, leaving him gasping as he beheld the wild beauty that bathed in the bright light of first cycle. He heard the audible catch of indrawn breath as each of his companions entered the clearing.
	‘Who was the private gardener that kept this place a haven for weary travelers?’ he wondered.
	Directly in the center of the clearing stood the tree of his vision. The leaves were almost as long as he was tall and were the most unusual shade he’d ever seen...a pale green, light and transparent. He could see the life-giving sap pumping vigorously through each intricately woven vein.
	Its trunk was enormous. Michall doubted that he, Ra-Nu, and Phillip together, their hands joined, could embrace it. The bark itself was as smooth as glass, and due to the unbelievable amount of leaves, many of the branches sagged forlornly downward, dragging the ground.
	Michall turned to Ra-May, “Do you feel anything?”
	“Aye, I do,” she replied in a hushed, near reverent tone. “There is longing here. The struggle within is intense, and the emotions are crippling.”
	“I, too, feel it but not as strong as I did last eve. All the same, it is there.”
	“All good and well. But I ask you, what will you do now my fine young princeling?” Ra-Nu’s sarcasm broke into their revelry, not caring what it was they felt. All he felt was an overpowering sense of dread.
	Ignoring Ra-Nu’s slur, Michall turned questioning eyes to Ra-May. He had no idea what they were suppose to do once they’d reached their destination, and he did not care. His interest ended upon arrival.
	‘Now, what is wrong with that lad?’ Ra-Nu puzzled.
	Ra-May scrambled from her mount and hurried toward the tree. Just as quickly, Ra-Nu countered her move.
	“What are you about, my little minx?” he whispered accusingly, his stare deep and penetrating.
	“Ra-Nu,” she said, meeting his stare, “this tree that stands before us has lived for countless phasings. Its story was recorded long ago in the Book of Ancients, its being a part of the Crystal’s lore. Surely you remember your own tales told me as a child?”
	Ra-Nu studied the tree long and hard, yet no memory surfaced. He could recall nothing of it.
	Ra-May walked at his side, gently directing his steps closer to her goal. Laying a hand lightly upon his shoulder, she began to recite an ancient poem remembered from her childhood. The words flowed from her in a soft, even chant, her voice a mere whisper. “There stands a tree, its branches long, Within its depths, has wisdom gone. Come on to thee, ye pure of heart. Embrace this tree, and darkness parts. Hold the light and the reward shall be. Wisdom ye shall call to thee. Fail its test, and lose your hold, and ye shall forfeit your very soul.”
	Ra-Nu swung about to face her. “You cannot!”
	“I must.”
	“What if your heart is not pure? I cannot -- will not -- take that risk. You will stand down and forget this insanity.”
	“But you must allow this, Ra-Nu, just as I must do it. I have to try. Do you not see? The tree holds within it the knowledge I need to defeat the Del-a-Shar. You, yourself, said that I was too young. I intend to even the odds.”
	“Michall!” Ra-Nu thundered. “To me at once. You must talk some sense into this cub. I cannot make her hear me!”
	Michall dismounted and strolled unconcerned toward them. With his face a mask of serenity, he answered, “I see nothing wrong, let her go.”
	“What?” Ra-Nu bellowed. “Have you both taken leave of your senses? The two of you stand before me smiling as if you have been allowed too much fine wine. Now, Ra-May’s actions I understand. She has ever been impetuous and rash, but you -- you, I would have staked my life on your reaction. What has come over you, princeling? I ask yet again, what happened to the lad who swore to me he would rather die then see Ra-May hurt?”
	Michall walked to his side and patted him on the back. “As I said, she’ll be fine. Relax, Ra-Nu. All will be well.”
	Ra-Nu’s mouth flew open, completely incapable of finding words to adequately express his anger. He recalled his earlier thoughts that they had been bewitched? Then the illusive answer surfaced. ‘Not ‘they’, him!’
	Turning to accuse Ra-May of just that, he too became entrapped, feeling a gentle calmness settle over and about him.
	She reached out and hooked his arm in hers. Gazing deeply into his eyes, she saw the fear buried there, a fear she knew she had caused.
	“I will be fine. Remember nothing else but that, I will be fine. Think back and remember the rest of the poem,” she soothed, then began to recite again, “If by chance, you can embrace, A single soul, your choice to take. Bring it up and out of the hold, Set it free and wisdom will be bestowed.”
	“You truly believe this, do you not?” he asked.
	“Aye, Ra-Nu, I do. If I did not, then I would have to say that I do not believe in me, or you, or the Crystal.”
	“What of Michall? What has come over him? I tell you I do not like it. Not at all...yet,” he hesitated, “I, too, believe. I believe in the Crystal and our Race. If I refuse to believe, then I will be useless should you need me.”
	Solemnly, he eyed Michall and sighed before returning his gaze to Ra-May. With slumping shoulders, he asked, “What is your plan?”
	“I will embrace the tree and try to open myself to its yearnings. Once that is accomplished, then...” she shrugged.
	“By the Ancients, that is a good plan,” he spat sarcastically and threw his arms skyward. “I am sorry, Ra-May, but I am having a hard time with this. It goes against my better judgement.”
	Ra-May nodded but still turned and walked toward the tree. As she moved closer, she opened herself to it, letting her senses roam free and felt the magic of her soul struggle to attune itself to the magic within the tree.
	Stepping under the low branches, she placed her palms gingerly on the smooth bark. It felt warm to her touch, almost fleshy in its texture.
	Before she realized what was happening, she was encased by a power emitting from the tree.
	No longer aware of her companions, each looking on in various stages of alarm, she surrendered herself to the presence within the tree. The strong essence sucked at her, reaching in to grab her thoughts, making them its own.
	Its forceful pull was relentless, and her senses were overcome. She found herself diving headlong into darkness and realized too late, that she was helpless to halt it.
	Her companions stared as solid bark began to glow, the white light turning the tree transparent. They witnessed Ra-May’s rigid body anchored against the tree. They watched, horrified, as the branches swayed, and the large leaves enclosed her completely in a concealing embrace. She, herself, knew that she was no longer embodied, her essence now being held within the tree, surrendered property of the spirit that dwelled there.
	She was sealed within a flaming, transparent orb, slicing effortlessly through the duskiness within the tree, the vessel shielding her from the thick, oppressive nothingness that dwelled on the fringes of its fiery glow.
	She floated. Completely at the mercy of the tree, she fought against rising panic. The emotional essence of some unknown reached out and caressed her soul, its invisible touch calming her. She relaxed and opened herself to it, allowing her mind to become attuned to its wants. She traveled onward through the murky void.
	Occasionally she would sense the approach of one of the countless lost souls trapped within this dark world. She could feel its sharp, cold pull on her orb, their longing threatening to overpower her. She would then draw upon her newfound inner peace, letting it fill her life force, and they would retreat back into the void.
	She bobbed onward, feeling as if she were being funneled down a long corridor with only a guess as to what lay at its end. She became attuned to the energy emitting from their trapped souls, easily discerning their locations as they swirled within the obscureness about her.
	As if sensing her thoughts, they converged upon her. ‘Set us free’, they wailed, their empty voices droning on and on. Such a clamor assaulted her, cluttering her thoughts, making her nearly miss sensing the silent one dwelling amongst them. This one made no pleas for forgiveness, nor shrieked for a freedom long ago given up, offering only its deep silence.
	Her globe began to grow brighter. The souls faded back, slinking away into the gloom as this new force made itself known.
	The tree, or the being that lived within the tree, spoke, its voice echoing loudly within the cavity of the great tree. “Your heart is untouched by evil, child. The light grows brighter with your presence. It accepts your purity. You are one with it. Ask what you will. I will try to deliver, but only if it is within my reign of power.”
	“Tell me, please, how do I defeat the Del-a-Shar?” she whispered. “Tell me what is expected of me?”
	“All answers lie within you, child. When the time comes, you will know what is expected and will act upon it. Now you must return to the living.”
	The answer was less than comforting. She felt the presence pulling away, already dismissing her.
	Frantically, she yelled, “What of the soul I might take with me? Is this a truth or just a tale?” She dared to hope as she waited for a reply.
	She felt the lost souls stir.
	“Aye, it is a truth, but not one often granted. You are permitted this if that is your wish. Choose!”
	“I choose the silent one, the one who does not beg.”
	“A wise choice. It is done. Now, it is time for you to leave. Have heart, child. The answers are buried within you to be remembered at the moment of their greatest need. Return now, child, to the living!”
	Ra-May was hurled back along the corridor with a force greater than the winds of nature’s storms. Encased in a lightning ball, she streaked upward to the entrance of the ‘Well of Souls’ and barely had time to wonder what was happening when she was rudely slapped back into her awaiting body.
	She stepped away from the tree only to have her vision blur and her legs quake, unable to bear her weight, and fell toward the ground.
	She tried to brace herself against the jolt. Gritting her teeth, she prepared for the pain but instead met with a soft, reassuring embrace. Shocked, she opened her eyes and faced dark, stormy pools of liquid orbs.
	A deep, worried scowl marred his fine features.
	She cringed. A great sense of shame washed over her.
	“Ra-May, my heart? Are you all right? Please tell me you’re well?” he pleaded, his tender words caressing her. Another wave of shame assaulted her.
	“Forgive me,” Michall whispered.
	She jerked her golden eyes upward. ‘What?’ she thought. ‘Was he asking her for forgiveness?’ It was she who should be begging. He looked so pitiful, kneeling on the ground, holding her safely within his strong embrace. She wanted to cry.
	“I didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. My only defense is that I wasn’t myself. For that, I apologize.”
	He signaled to someone behind him, and Ra-Nu came forward with a skin of water. Michall took it and offered her the cool liquid. Refusing, she turned her head away. His scowl deepened.
	‘Oh, however am I going to make him understand?’
	She reached out and gently ran her fingertips over Michall’s chest, drawing imaginary circles across the smooth leather surface of his tunic. Weakly, she smiled and brought her hand up to his cheek. ‘This will not be easy,’ she thought.
	Mentally she braced herself as she explained to him why he had acted so unusual.
	He exploded in rage. Sitting upon the ground, head hung toward her chest, her hair spilling forward to veil her shame, she waited in silence as he vented his anger.
	When he drew quiet, she pleaded, “Michall, try to understand. I felt it necessary to use my magic on you. I needed to enter the tree, I had to! You would never have allowed it, so I used just a tiny tingle of power to calm you. It was done only in an effort to soothe.”
	“No, it wasn’t done in any effort to spare me! It was done only so you could have your way. Do you have so little faith in me that you couldn’t speak to me, allowing me to try and meet you on common ground? You must, for instead of trusting in me, you used a weapon against me, one I couldn’t fight.”
	“But, but...you would not have allowed it!”
	“You’ll never know if that is true as you took the choice from me. You’ve wounded me deeply with your actions! Why didn’t you just thrust a dagger here,” he stated emotionally, stabbing roughly at his chest. “And what did you do to Ra-Nu? He allowed you to go easy enough. As I remember, he was against it in the beginning.”
	She buried her face in her hands, trying to hide the tears that threatened to drown her. She fought the awful lump in her throat. His coldness hurt, sending an invisible blade through her own heart.
	“Well?” Michall demanded, standing reproachfully above her. “What of Ra-Nu?”
	She met his stare with hot tears coursing down her cheeks, “The same.”
	Michall cringed when he saw her tears. Agony ripped through him. He realized, even in his anger, he couldn’t deny her his comfort. He dropped down on one knee and tucked her within the shelter of his strong arms. She buried her face within the concealing embrace, leaning into his board chest to cry harder. Michall stroked her hair, saying nothing.
	Ra-May could still feel the anger in his tense body, but it was easing.
	‘I promise, my love,’ she silently vowed. ‘I will make it up to you.’
	Ra-Nu towered above them, his presence a foreboding shadow. “I should have guessed. I should have known better! I tasted the magic. Your princeling would never have allowed you near that tree so easily if he possessed his own will.”
	‘Such shame!’ she thought as a fresh wash of tears spilled from her eyes.
	“I am sorry, Michall. So very sorry. I shall never do it again. I will learn to trust in you and we will decide as one,” she sobbed into his tunic. He trembled, but she could not discern whether it was from anger or with acceptance.
	Michall took her face between his hands, forcing her to meet his stare. He watched as golden tears rolled slowly down her pale cheeks.
	He moaned, torn between hugging her close and strangling her.
	He replied in short, clipped tones, afraid that his anger would win out if he didn’t. “See that you don’t!”
	To her ears it sounded like each syllable had been stated alone with a pregnant pause between each word. She swung her head from side-to-side, trying to convey that she would not!
	“Back away! Something is happening!” Phillip’s scream rent the air. “For the love of life, get back!”
	Michall didn’t have time to think. He scooped Ra-May up in his arms and carried her quickly back to where the others waited, depositing her into his kin’s arms even as Phillip was trying to pull free his sword. Within the space of one step, Michall was positioned to face the threat, Power held ready in his fist, standing firm next to Ra-Nu to wait.
	Michall watched as the bark began to glow, just as it had in his vision. It became increasingly difficult to keep his eyes trained on it. He lifted Power as if it were a ward. Every muscle in his body taunt, ready to react.
	The wind picked up, forcing them to dig in. It rustled the great leaves, causing the incandescent light to swirl. Tiny eddies of sparkling beams danced in abandonment near its base, and the wind tugged at them, trying to carry them away.
	Then, just when Michall feared they were all going to be sucked into the void, a lightning bolt struck the ground, throwing him backwards. As quickly as it had began, it ended, returning everything to how it had been before, or at least some semblance of it.
	Michall blinked, trying to regain his sight. Pulling himself from the ground, he shook his head. “Can this be real?” he mumbled, staring at the spot where the lightning had struck. In place of the expected scorched hole there instead knelt a man, his golden mane humbly bent in respectful deference.
	Someone made a noise, shattering whatever spell Michall had been held within. At the same moment, the man lifted his head. Their eyes met and held.
	Time froze. Michall stared into the icy, blue eyes of the man before him and felt like he stared eternity in the eye. Slowly, cautiously, those eyes began to travel down the length of his frame. Then they moved upward once again in the same slow scan, pausing on Power to register a spark of recognition, then moved onward, finishing his perusal. Then his gaze turned away. Michall followed his stare.
	The stranger’s azure gaze rested on Ra-May, lingering longer than Michall was willing to allow. He made a move to force the others eyes back to him.
	The man gently met Michall’s dark stare with the cool blue of his own. A frown formed upon his face, and he looked to Michall with large eyes filled with moisture.
	Giving Michall his full attention, the man rose gracefully, his outstretched hands before him. As he drew nearer, Michall saw the truth. This was no man. He was sure of it. Michall heard a muffled curse emanate from behind him but didn’t turn to see who had made it. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on the stranger.
	This one had the same slightly tilted eyes and upraised brows that Ra-Nu and Ra-May possessed. His eyes were the bluest and purest hue Michall had ever seen, except when he met Ra-Nu’s bold stares. He was as golden and full of light as Michall’s Elfen companions with a grace about him that pronounced him different yet the same.
	‘Yes, there was no doubt,’ he thought. ‘This being is an Elf.’
	Perceiving no danger, he lowered Power a fraction.
	Reaching out, Michall accepted the others outstretched hand. Before any words could be exchanged, Torch and Tilly arrived and began to fly tight, graceful curves around the stranger’s head, mumbling as they swam artfully through the air, “What is it you wish, my lord? Ask and we shall try to deliver,” Torch begged.
	“Aye, tis so, all you need do is ask, and we will serve,” Tilly echoed her brother’s words.
	Ra-Nu stood in the background, studying the newcomer with the practiced eye of a warrior.
	“Put me down, Phillip!” Ra-May’s outraged shriek sounded from behind Michall. He turned quizzical eyes toward them and saw her struggling in the ironclad grip of his kin.
	“Phillip, release her!” he commanded.
	“Not to worry, dear boy. I was just making sure all was well before I relinquished my protection.”
	“That’s both thoughtful and considerate of you. I thank you for your concern, but I’ll watch over her now. Come here, Ra-May.” He held his hand out to her, and she ran to accept it.
	Her breathless arrival sparked yet another perplexing glance from the newcomer. Michall encircled her waist with his free arm and drew her deeper into his protection, not caring for the way the stranger looked at her.
	Nearly breathless, she blurted, “You are the one! You are the silent one!”
	Nodding his head as if to say, ‘correct’, he gifted her with an enchanting smile. Questions burned in his eyes as he took note of her golden ones. His grin widened and he inclined his head, his grin instantly putting them at ease. It had a genuine, caring quality about it that was hard to resist.
	Ra-May reached out to touch his face, but Ra-Nu artfully stepped between her and her aim. Unlike the others, he was not totally at ease with the situation.
	“Who are you and how did you come to be imprisoned in yon tree?” he demanded.
	The newcomer looked up to meet Ra-Nu’s stare. Ra-Nu stepped back, his mouth gone suddenly dry. He did not know this Elf yet set within his unfamiliar face was the familiar eyes of an old friend. He was shaken by the force of the memory.
	“I,” spoke the Elf, “am El-Cha, brother to the King.”
	“King?” Ra-Nu flashed back as the others listened to their exchange of words. “My King had no brothers. Do you imply that you are from another Elfen Band that I have no knowledge of?”
	Again El-Cha calmly replied, “My brother was King when last I saw Ra-Jee.”
	“Ha, Ar-Ion was the last King of Ra-Jee. Try again. Ar-Ion had no brothers!” Ra-Nu snorted.
	Puzzled, El-Cha answered, “I know of no Elf named Ar-Ion. My brother was Ar-Hur and he possessed the same golden eyes as yon fair maiden.”
	Ra-Nu paled. ‘How could this Elf be Ar-Hur’s brother? Ar-Hur and Sar-Ion were Ra-May’s great-great grandsires. If what this Elf said was true, then he should not be standing before them.’
	“Who were Ar-Hur’s children?” Ra-Nu asked.
	“My brother had one son or at least when I left he had but one. His name being Prince Ra-Ree. I am of an age with him.”
	“My memory fails me. By what order of brothers do you fall?”
	“My friend, I seriously doubt that your memory ever fails you, but let us continue this charming game. I am younger brother to Ar-Hur.”
	He had him. Ra-Nu sprung on it. “That cannot be so. King Ar-Hur had no living brother, he lost...” he slowed as he recalled a very important detail and whispered...“El-Cha.”
	The Elf bowed.
	Ra-Nu chewed on his lip, momentarily confused.
	“I agree that King Ar-Hur had a brother named El-Cha. Aye, I will agree to that. If you really are who you claim to be, how is it possible that you stand before us?”
	El-Cha studied the group carefully. Raising his hand, he beckoned them nearer. “Come, enough of these questions. Instead, let me tell you my tale and then you decide whether I lie or deliver the truth.”
	Drawing close, they sat upon the ground, arranging themselves in a loose circle. Nodding, he stated, “Please, allow me to tell my tale...
	“I was born El-Cha, and my sires were Ra-El and Shar-Ree. My older brother was King of Ra-Jee at the time of my birth as my father had died but a mere six passes back of the moon’s cycle and my mother died gifting me with life.
	“Ar-Hur’s son, Ra-Ree, was birthed near the same phase of the moon as I, although I am older by a few. Alas, it is vanity that forbids me to give you that exact counting. But I stray. Let me continue.
	“Ar-Hur and his mate, Sar-Ion, raised me as another son. I had a very happy upbringing. When I was still but a wee Elfling, I became interested in the wisdom of the Ancients. I began to study their teachings, reading all there was and hungering for more.
	“The Crystal’s lore was deeply rooted in their teachings, all passages ultimately referring to it. Intrigued, I spent most of my time within its Keep, watching it. My brother was the only one who could speak with the Crystal, but in my youth I kept hoping it would find me worthy.
	“One cycle, while exploring one of the oldest corridors of the Keep, I came across the story of the ‘Tree of Wisdom’. I thought, if only I could hold all the wisdom and knowledge of the entire world, it would be a wish come true! I made that wish my hope and finally, my dream.
	“It became an obsession. I ate, drank, and breathed this want. Ar-Hur could do nothing with me. For you see, I had made up my mind. I was leaving the protection of Ra-Jee and going out into the world to find it.
	“Sadly, Ar-Hur gave me his blessing, albeit reluctantly. He bid me farewell and held me close in a long embrace. I had the distinct feeling that he felt, or understood, that he would not see me again. Being young and foolish, I ignored the thought, pushing it aside in my excitement to be on my way. We parted at the boundaries of Ra-Jee, Ar-Hur standing alone, watching as I walked into the mists.
	“I wandered for many phasings, letting my senses go out ahead of me as I searched. All I needed was a tiny tug of the tree’s essence, and I was off again.
	“Many times I had to take cover and hide away from the beings that roamed this new and alien world. These were dangerous times I found myself in. Man held the land outside of Ra-Jee. Bloodthirsty, savage men, killing anything different from themselves.”
	Turning to Michall and Phillip, El-Cha entreated, “Try not to take offense, this was a long time ago, and your ancestors were little more than barbarians to my kind.”
	Michall nodded, taking no insult. Phillip, for once, remained blissfully silent.
	El-Cha smiled and then continued, “I did not wish to be discovered and waste my magic on these nameless ones, so I hid whenever the need arose. Of course, this made travel very slow.”
	Ra-Nu’s head popped up, his stare demanding, so much so that El-Cha was forced to stop his tale yet again.
	“You said magic. Do you claim to possess this skill?”
	“Why surely.” He looked at Ra-Nu as if he had lost his mind. “Do you not?”
	Ra-Nu shook his head in reply, “Nay, none in Ra-Jee could lay claim to that skill, no Elf of my time possesses the magic.”
	“No magic?!” El-Cha gasped. “Why, whatever happened?”
	“There was magic but only the King possessed it. But not the way you do. His magic was within the Amulet of Ra-Jee. None possessed it except Ra-May. She does carry it within her.”
	“Not even the King?” El-Cha whispered. “How very strange.”
	“Please, continue your story, El-Cha,” Ra-May begged.
	“Of course. Now where was I? Aye...
	“After a long time searching, my senses finally touched the illusive tree. I was so very excited. Now I would see my dreams realized. I hastened to its call, planning in my mind all the good I would do with my new wisdom. I would reshape this wild world, teach all the error of their ways. Aye, sadly, nothing more than selfish thoughts...only selfish, foolish dreams.
	“When I finally arrived here to this clearing, I was naive enough to believe that I was as pure as one could be. All I had to do was embrace the tree and the world would be mine. But you see, the jest was on me. I really did not understand its definition of purity. I never once entertained the notion that the tree would deny me what I wanted. After all, I was worthy, was I not? I was a Royal Prince and was not accustomed to being denied. Obstacles were alien concepts to me.
	“I embraced the tree expecting happiness but what I learned was humility. The spirit within saw through me and drove out my hope. I was now a prisoner of my own intentions, locked away from the light with all the other arrogant ones who had thought to rule the world.
	“Foolishly, I hoped for awhile but soon realized hope was a dream in its self. I was trapped forever. In despair, I sank into silence. But last eve there came a shining ray of hope. I felt the young human’s presence and heard Power calling out to my soul. It awoke me after many phasings of sleep. Ar-Hur, I thought, had finally come to rescue his witless, young brother. I dared to hope again, clinging now to a long forgotten emotion. But then I became confused. I felt another presence. You, Elfling. You had about you the feel of the Crystal. My senses had been dulled for so long I still thought it to be Ar-Hur. I reasoned that it was just that he moved around in the clearing that gave me such confusing images.
	“I called out but was silenced by the tree. I heard its voice call out, setting traps for its next victim. It moaned incessantly for the girl. The girl? Why would Ar-Hur give this tree a girl? Nay, I would not allow him to sacrifice her for me.
	“I tried to touch you, Michall, but by then, you had departed. I was left alone with my confusion...slipping deeper within my armor of hopeless silence.
	“Then you came, sweet maiden, and being the child of Gold that you are, freed me. So now, in gratitude, I bow to you. You shall always have my loyalty and my guardianship. I will always be your most humble servant.”
	“Great,” Phillip mumbled. “Just what she really needs, another watchdog.”
	El-Cha raised his brow in question, but Ra-Nu waved him off. “Do not take notice of Phillip, sometimes we think him addled.”
	“Why thank you, dear fellow. I will cherish that remark forever.”
	“See that you do!” Michall snapped a bit too seriously for Phillip’s taste.
	He shrugged. Time would tell. If Michall was just merely annoyed, well, he would have to use that to his advantage. He did so love a good jest.
	Michall quietly studied El-Cha. Something the Elf had said disturbed him. Hesitantly, he asked, “Prince El-Cha, my sword? You called it by its rightful name. How do you know this? How could you?” And right on its heels, he asked, “And why did you confuse Ra-May and myself for this King Ar-Hur?”
	El-Cha looked upon the sword, “Ah, Power, what a lovely piece of Elfen workmanship you are. Do you not agree?” he paused briefly to allow that to sink in, then continued. “I know all about Power. I was there when it was presented to Ar-Hur. It was a gift from the bands of Ra-Jee.”
	“How can that be? My family has possessed the blade for generations,” Michall countered.
	El-Cha sighed and shook his head. He was growing tired of trying to make children understand something that was very obvious to him. “I believed the two of you to be one because you both carry something very strong and recognizable to me. My mistake is now understandable. Seeing you both together has made it very clear.”
	He rose and stretched his cramped muscles. Turning, he looked down to Michall. “As to why you have Power in your family tree, well at this time I can only guess. Perhaps once you tell me more of your past I will be able to see the truth of it. I do not believe that either of you fully understand what is transpiring, but there is time enough for all your questions and time enough for answers.”

Chapter Twenty-two
Ties

	The remainder of the cycle was spent within the cool, green glade, resting beneath the massive ‘Tree’, its shade shielding them from the harshness of the forest without.
	In turns, each of them told El-Cha about the fates that had brought them together. Although each version was vastly different in its telling, each tale stirred them to remember their own reasons for being there.
	It soon became apparent to all that El-Cha was an enchantingly, curious soul. Tireless, he would make one or the other of them repeat their version of the tale, often stopping the teller in mid-sentence to ask a probing question, digest the new information, and then urge them to continue.
	It was like watching a hound reach out and snatch a scrap that someone tossed carelessly its way. He would pounce on it, devour it, and then beg for more.
	Although engrossed and attentive to all, he was particularly curious of Michall’s family line and how they had become the Rulers of Doran. No matter what was being told at the time, he would somehow manage to turn it back to Michall.
	The prince assumed that it was because El-Cha understood very little of human ways and the tale awoke a hunger in him that the others could not quench. To him, it must seem infeasible that ‘Man’ no longer existed as the bloodthirsty animals he remembered so well. He indulged El-Cha, though it was disturbing that he focused on Power more than any other detail.
	El-Cha realized almost from the moment Ra-May had entered the tree that she was a relative, he being an uncle, several times removed. What puzzled him was her connection with the lad. What force was being summoned that caused a Human and an Elf to seek each other out?
	He yearned to forge a bond with her, longed to feel, once again, the power of the Crystal that dwelled within her, needing the soft blanket of security that he had once felt with Ar-Hur but could feel the magical nexus that literally wrapped its protective shield about the two children, warning him not to interfere.
	From the start, El-Cha realized that Ra-May was unaware of the power she possessed. She held within her a stronger bond to the jewel than even Ar-Hur had known. He was amazed that she had gone through so much and still remained untouched, a true innocent.
	As for the force of the magic he knew she was capable of manipulating but did not, he attributed to her lack of education. A deficiency due only to the way she had been raised. 
	‘Imagine,’ he thought not unkindly, ‘a Royal child being raised by a Palace Warrior! An unskilled one at that.’
	‘It was not his fault,’ El-Cha mentally corrected. ‘Ra-Nu could not help his lack of knowledge when the magic did not speak to him. Perhaps I can remedy the problem.’
	His thoughts moved on to the human called Michall. Now there was a true puzzle. He was as different from Ra-May as second cycle was to first. But as he had noted before, the two were linked in some unexplainable and undeniable way.
	Michall held no nativity, no innocence concerning the world around him as far as El-Cha could see. He could be hard and unyielding yet kind to those he trusted. His soul was cautious.
	‘The boy,’ El-Cha thought, ‘seems to carry a great weight upon his shoulders.’ He suspected that Michall hid his true emotions in murky shadows of his own creation. ‘Aye, he is as different from Ra-May as one can get yet totally the same.’
	In his mind, he compared the children to the sun and moon, doomed to forever trail the other in an endless dance. Together, they made the world complete. Alone, they were nothing more than a moment in time.
	‘Once combined,’ he surmised, ‘they could become unbeatable if their powers acted as one.’
	It was an interesting notion and gave him pause.
	After all the tales had been told and told again, reassuring El-Cha that nothing had been held back, he began to form conclusions, but he still found the puzzle missing a few pieces. Turning to Michall, he asked, “Prince Michall, I have given the matter of your sword a great deal of thought, and although I believe I understand how it came to be in your possession, I find I must bother you yet again.”
	Michall nodded, granting permission.
	Phillip turned scintillating eyes upon them. He’d been very quite most of the cycle. Michall noted his sudden interest and wondered anew what his kin was plotting as he turned his attention to El-Cha.
	In an elegantly, smooth cant, El-Cha began his questions. “Can you recite to me your lineage?”
	Michall nodded and asked him just how far he’d like him to go.
	“Well, if you could recite, shall we say, five generations back, nay, hold, we had better try for a little further back than that...how far back can you remember?”
	“I can list all the names of the Rulers of Doran, from the first of my blood to descend the throne up to the present Doran -- 13 - 14 generations.” Michall replied with a shrug, stating a fact without any hint of boast to his tone.
	“You can? I am truly impressed. I, for one, would never be able to do that. Please, continue.”
	“If it is all right, I believe that I’ll start from the present, taking you backwards along the bloodline. I’ve found that it’s the easiest to follow.”
	“You mean you can do it either way?” El-Cha asked.
	“Yes, if I’m asked. Would you prefer it the other way?”
	“Nay, whichever way you find it the easiest. Please, continue.”
	Michall took a deep breath and began his recital: “First the present rulers, my parents, Mikam and Sarah -- with my oldest sister, Renne, being the named heir in the Royal line. As it has always been, the line to the throne and to ruling Doran is passed through the females. A custom started out of necessity, but a common practice now. You see, there has never been a male born to the Royal line, at least, there wasn’t until me.”
	“That is another strange occurrence, do you not all agree?” El-Cha interrupted. Everyone nodded in agreement. The glow in El-Cha’s eyes emphasized his intrigue as he waved impatiently for Michall to continue.
	“Before Sarah, there was Meara, my grandmother, and her husband, Colin. Then there was Mell-isha and David, Ellianor and John, Mora and Miles. Next, another Sarah and her husband, William. Mary was Sarah’s mother who was married to a man named James. He’d been a very strong Ruler and is still loved in my time. He performed daring deeds that saved the Kingdom from wild invaders from the north.”
	“Before them came Elizabeth and Edward, Rebbeca and Henry, then Marion and another John. Now we come to the first three generations that fought and held Doran and are the true link to the throne. The times in which they lived were very much like the times you remember, El-Cha. ‘Man’ was bloodthirsty and savage, always fighting amongst themselves...no order...no laws. Yet against all odds, the first Rulers united the tribes, bringing a much needed order to the land.”
	El-Cha discovered, much to his surprise, that he was totally enamored by the young man. He liked his fierce pride when he spoke and was pleased to see that Michall understood his ancestry and his sense of duty concerning his bloodline.
	Michall stopped and took a deep breath before continuing on. “Twy-lina and her husband Wynn start this last group off. She was the mother of Marion. Twy-lina’s parents were Ar-Rina and Steward, and finally the two who started the Kingdom of Doran, Dirina and Arthur. Roughly 700-1000 phasings from present to past.”
	After a long, deep silence, El-Cha startled them as he jumped up and snapped his fingers in the air.
	“Michall, you say that this sword passed from generation to generation, hand to hand, until it found you? From the very first Ruler of Doran?”
	“Yes, that’s the truth as I know it.”
	“It occurs to me that your Arthur and my Ar-Hur might be one in the same. I find it very interesting and quite logical now that I have time to ponder it. First, Arthur and Dirina named their first born in an Elfish fashion, so to speak, although Elves generally use the names of the grandsires, using ‘Ar’ for Arthur, and ‘Rina’ for Dirina instead. The accent being focused on the mother’s name.”
	“And, it certainly was Ar-Hur’s sword that was passed down your bloodline. I would know Power anywhere, it was Ar-Hur’s legacy.”
	“Onward and onward the sword must have traveled, passed from one female hand to another. It remained unused, gathering dust while it lay in wait, encased in the old leather of its sheath, until it once again rested in the hand of its rightful owner, the first male child born to the Royal bloodline in 13 or 14 generations.”
	“Based on the tales Ra-Nu told, I believe my conclusions are sound. What makes no sense yet is why.”
	Phillip joined in then, his excitement bubbling up and overflowing over to the others. “Your tale, Ra-Nu, stated that Ar-Hur’s son -- Ra-Ree was it?” he asked of the large Elf. Ra-Nu nodded in the affirmative.
	Phillip flashed a brilliant smile as he continued, “Well, that Ra-Ree died, and upon his death Ar-Hur was so saddened that he gave up his Kingdom, bestowing it on his grandson, Ar-Ion, who was Ra-May’s father.”
	Again Ra-Nu agreed.
	“Further, you stated that the Elves of old possessed a great inner magic, but after Ar-Hur disappeared, there was no magic left in the land, none save for the Amulet. All the Elves awoke to discover they’d been raped, so to speak, their magic stolen and gone for good. Am I right?” Phillip finished with a lopsided grin.
	“Aye, I begin to see your path. Please do continue,” El-Cha responded gleefully, clapping his hands in appreciation.
	“Well, just this. If he was as powerful as you all seem to think, and assuming he was told his destiny by this great jewel you all keep talking about, wouldn’t it have been possible for this Ar-Hur to see the destruction of his world, the fall of a beloved land? Couldn’t he have devised some wondrous spell that would awaken when the time was ripe and the right players were in the game?”
	“Aye, he was strong enough to have done that,” El-Cha agreed.
	“Could this be why the Crystal seems dead?” Ra-Nu asked, jumping into the conversation enthusiastically. “Does it only sleep? Did it know of Ra-May’s birth?”
	“Hers and Michall’s,” El-Cha stated quietly.
	All heads turned in unison toward the now startled prince.
	“How could it have been waiting for me? I’m not Elf!” Michall retorted.
	Reaching out, El-Cha clasped Michall’s hand within his own, “Time will tell,” he stated and then walked away.
	‘This is too strange. I don’t understand any of it.’ Michall mumbled as he watched the Elf walk away. ‘Too strange’ and shut his eyes, sealing away the sights before him but could do nothing with the scenes forming in his mind.
	Ra-May had remained silent, listening attentively as everyone else spoke. But now in a hoarse whisper she called all eyes to her. “Then whom, or exactly what, is this evil that has destroyed my world?” Her gaze pleaded for answers as she sat unmoving on the grass.
	El-Cha knelt before her and gently took her hand. He wished he was capable of giving her the answers she so desperately sought. Regrettably all he could give were assumptions.
	He answered tenderly, “That is a question I cannot answer. I can only assume that somehow Ar-Hur knew what was to befall Ra-Jee and sought a way to fight it. He was very clever.”
	“Child, I know that he loved Ra-Jee with all his soul. So much so that he would at least have tried to assure that it would endure.” El-Cha did not want her to think they were doomed to fail.
	“But as with all magic, there is always sacrifice. Yet I believe he would have made it for Ra-Jee. That sacrifice, I suspect, was himself.”
	“If he became Michall’s Arthur, as I suspect he did, he would have had to abandon his magic and become mortal, bound by mortal laws. As to what end I must still consider,” El-Cha sighed.
	Ra-May shed silent tears. Michall ached within as he watched them trail down her pale cheeks.
	“I did not know,” she stammered, moisture streaming down her pale cheeks in uneven trails, “I did not know about him, or his great love for Ra-Jee.”
	“Keep good cheer, child,” El-Cha cooed. “Ra-Jee still has its legacy.”
	“I will do whatever I must, whatever the deed, to restore my homeland. Only, I do not understand how I can save Ra-Jee? It seems to me that it is already gone.”
	This was the first time Ra-Nu had heard her express her self-doubt and fear.
 	“Gone? That is not for me to say. I prefer to think that it is only sleeping, much like the Crystal, just waiting for you to awaken it,” El-Cha stated dreamily.
	“Perhaps,” Ra-May agreed quietly. “Perhaps you are right.”
	She backhanded a tear from her cheek. Lifting her golden eyes, the lashes still moist, she added in a rush, “I had forgotten in my despair that when I first began I had no doubts about Ra-Jee. How could I have forgotten?”
	Michall jerked his head around. “That’s true, Ra-May. I’d forgotten, but in my dreams I witnessed the Elves falling -- it seemed they were floating, cascading lazily toward the ground. It was more like watching a slow faint or...”
	“Or a forced sleep,” El-Cha finished for him.
	“It is possible, is it not?” Ra-May asked breathlessly. “It is possible that Ar-Hur knew of us. Did he somehow know that we stood a chance?”
	“Sometimes, little one, things are not always as they appear to be. There are secrets to be sought out and new things to discover. We shall have to move forward, go on, do you not think? How else are we to see what is waiting around the bend.”
	“Aye, I do believe -- I do!” Ra-May declared, hugging El-Cha.
	Michall stood to the side, watching them. He remained troubled. Foggy childhood visions fought for recognition, memories that he’d buried.
	He needed time alone to sort out his confusion. Since Ra-May had manifested from dream to reality, his life hadn’t been the same, and he didn’t feel like he could trust what he perceived as a reality anymore.
	He shrugged before announcing to anyone that cared to listen, “We’ll stay here during second cycle -- set up camp and rest. Dawn’s light will be soon enough to be on our way. Come first cycle we must go through a village of sorts. If any of you have an idea as to how we can pass without drawing undo attention, I’d like to hear it. Any idea is better than none.”
	He turned away, leaving them to their own musings as he sought his own solitude. He needed to find a place to sit quietly and think. If he didn’t find answers soon, he feared he’d become little better than a useless burden.
	“Unquestionably,” he sighed, “all reason has fled the world, and I’m the only one who desires its return...”

	“...Perhaps,” grinned the old Storyteller through yellowed teeth, his voice raspy from the constant use. “But, I sincerely doubt it...”

Chapter Twenty-three
More a Hope

	Having eaten, they were more than willing to retire to their blankets and be serenaded by the unidentified sounds echoing out from the darkness beyond their small fire. Confronted by popping bones and complaining muscles begging for relief, they drifted off to sleep, knowing it would not be long before the light of first cycle intruded upon their dreams.
	Edgy most of the eve, Michall had barely been able to sit long enough to complete his meal. A nagging restlessness burdened him yet remained buried, an unknown irritant. It was nothing more than a ghostly phantom that haunted his memories, appearing and disappearing, bedeviling his thoughts to deny him peace.
	He was exhausted, yet long after the others had surrender to their own private dreams, he sat alone by the fire, yet again unable to find sleep.
	Replaying each bit of conversation discussed throughout the cycle, he tried to fit all the pieces together. Absently, he began to stroke his blade.
	One issue kept returning to haunt him. Ar-Hur or Arthur, Elf or Human?
	If he was to be truthful with himself, he wasn’t as sure of his own blood as he once had been. He looked down at Power’s gleaming blade and sighed, “I certainly can’t deny your existence, now can I?”
	The blade winked as the light of the fire caught it and played along the metal. The markings covering its length were alien yet the blade called to him in a way he couldn’t describe. Everything about it fit him, it was as if the weapon had been fashioned with him in mind.
	He stroked the gleaming metal. Back and forth his fingers went, slowly skimming up and down the polished surface, his touch becoming a caress.
	Power responded, calling out to his soul, thrilling him and scaring him as well.
	He was disengaged from his earlier surroundings...an alien...his logical thoughts shattered, the remnants mingling with the four winds.
	His caution ebbed away, leaving his inner self defenseless, a part of himself that he usually kept out of harms way. He stood stripped of his shields, naked and alone.
	A memory, long buried, struggled to rise to the surface of his thoughts. He tried to bring it to fruit. Just as he began to recognize its intent, it floated back into the fog. Before he had time to feel remorse for its lost, another jumped in to fill the void, but this one left him puzzled.
	‘How can I remember something that I’ve never seen?’ he thought.
	Suddenly he understood. This memory was that of the blade’s. 
	Power projected a vision into his mind of a lone man, tall and strong, walking along an unkempt, overgrown path. Behind him a fine finger of wispy fog formed. The man walked as if he carried a heavy weight upon his shoulders, invisible to the eye but there all the same.
	Michall viewed it all from a spot high above the landscape. The vision was contained, or limited to, a narrow band, with the images distorted and out of proportion to the surroundings. The edges of his view were blurred and faded out into nothingness while the center of the scene was magnified, drawing his attention there.
	As the view sharpened, he was able to make out the man’s features and quickly realized that he wasn’t a man at all, he was an Elf.
	Strapped upon his back Michall saw the sword -- his sword, Power. His interest in the little play heightened.
	The Elf, ‘Ar-Hur?’, Michall wondered, looked skyward. Michall gasped. This lone Elf possessed golden eyes of fire, the same eyes as his beloved.
	Great, unheeded tears spilled from eyes closed against anguish as he raised Power and waved it in the empty air in front of him.
	Then, the Elf turned, raising questioning eyes to Michall, the pain mirrored within raw and exposed, with his palms outstretched he dropped down to his knees to sink deeply into the dew-sodden ground. He shouted, “Was it in vain?”
	The mists recoiled from his voice, pulling back and folding in upon itself.
	Digging his fingers through the wet earth, he cried, “Promise me it was not!”
	A lonely wail was his only answer.
	He slammed his fists to the ground and moaned, the sound as lonely as the echo of the wind.
	Then he rose, the effort slow and purposeful. Waving his arm, he pointed behind him. Michall followed the movement. He could just make out the towers of a white Palace. Ra-Jee? Michall suspected it was. He could see the dense, rolling fog building, rising up from the ground, wrapping the area in its fluffy softness, swallowing the structures, altering the scene, leaving only the overgrown path and the Elf standing upon it, shedding silent tears.
	Ar-Hur -- and Michall no longer had any doubt that he was -- stood alone, his shoulders slumped, shaking his head in sorrow. Wearily, he turned away from the past and began his slow, reluctant pace into the unknown future.
	Only once did he seem to hesitate and turn back toward Ra-Jee. But quickly turned back to the path and moved forward again, his shoulders sagging with the weight of his choice.
	The image wavered and faded. The other, pulling Power from its sheath, began to stroke the blade and called out, his voice floating up from the void, “My boy, you are more a hope than any realize, your blood will not be recognized. Trust and your faith will be rewarded.”
	Then with a suddenness Michall thought impossible, the vision vanished.
	“More a hope,” Michall repeated, his voice sounding odd as it echoed out into the prevailing darkness. “My blood?”
	A memory, one that he knew to be his own, came screaming to the surface of his mind. Helmon-dy-e had told him the very same thing when he was a small boy, after he’d envisioned the destruction of Ra-Jee.
	“My boy, you possess magic. It is in your blood.
	But where had he gotten it? Why had he stubbornly refused to accept those words? He’d believed them to be true when he was small. In fact, he’d recently reflected on the old Seer’s words but had refused at the time to acknowledge what he’d always known. And Ra-Nu had said that he held the key. What key?
	‘Enough,’ he proclaimed. ‘I will not solve this by fighting myself.’
	He rose and made his way to his own pallet. Lying down, he reached out to Ra-May, pulling her close, savoring her warmth. He knew he’d been a blind fool by refusing to allow the truth to register the first time he suspected it existed. He did himself a disservice by doubting the obvious.
	With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes.
	The sun had just barely begun its upward journey through the sky when Michall felt the small weight hit on his chest. Sighting down his nose, he saw Torch perched regally on his breast bone, tapping his foot rapidly.
	Michall leaned forward using his elbows as supports, effectively dislodging the tiny Elf. Torch took to the air and hovered just within Michall’s line of sight.
	Brushing thick hair from his face, Michall croaked, his voice hoarse with sleep, “And what do I owe for the honor of your visit so early this cycle?”
	Ra-May rolled onto her side with a groan and mumbled something incoherent. Facing Michall, she opened her eyes and gave him a sleepy grin. Bending down, he wrapped her in his strong embrace and kissed her lightly upon her forehead.
	Meanwhile Torch, intent on not being ignored, zoomed down through the air to come up eye level with the two.
	“Yes?” Michall asked as he drew himself back to the matter of Torch. “What is it that you are so bent on telling me?”
	“My Prince, while you slept I scouted this village you intend to enter.”
	Michall nodded but held his tongue, waiting for Torch to continue.
	“This village is unruly, a din of thieves and cutthroats. The place is totally human inhabited! I do not see how we will travel through.”
	Michall nodded again. He began to rub his chin while thinking the matter over. He felt stubble and realized he now sported a scraggly beard.
	Sighing, he answered, “Yes, it’s what I’ve been worried about. Do you have any suggestions that might enable us to pass somewhat unnoticed?”
	‘Maybe,’ he thought, ‘I will leave the beard until after we pass through the village. The beginnings of an idea began to form in his mind.
	Torch continued his report, “Going round would seem the best choice, but sometimes the best is not necessarily the easiest. The Del-a-Shar might hope that we do just such a thing and has laid a trap. He could have covered all possible routes to his domain with just such snares.”
	“This is true. So you’re saying we should pass through the village?”
	“Aye, I think it the most direct route, but the village could be a trap as well.”
	“Or the trap may be determined by our actions,” Michall contemplated. “I choose the village over going around.”
	“But, my lord, we would be spotted the moment we started through. Even if we were all human with nothing to mark us different, strangers would draw notice from all who lived within, any strangers!” Torch added with strong agitation, his tiny wings fluttering at twice their normal rate.
	Ra-May listened attentively, her eyes strangely animated.
	“You’re right again, Torch,” Michall agreed. “But I’ve an idea that might work. I propose that we go in masked. We could disguise our appearances in such a way that we escape any close scrutiny.”
	“Aye, it could work. It has the ring of a sound idea. I shall notify the others. When you have decided on the manner of our disguises, call, and we shall be ready.”
	“Wait a moment! When I decide? Why is it that I’ve got to come up with the choice of our disguises?” Michall asked in earnest. After all, this was a group effort, wasn’t it?
	Torch called over his shoulder, fluttering his tiny wings toward the others as they slept, “We follow your lead. It is for you to decide.”
	The idea of them following his lead without question struck him as extremely funny. From the beginning, he’d truly wondered who really was in charge.
	His body shook with the force of his laughter. It grew and grew, building from deep within to be released with relieved abandonment. Its effects creating a type of healing, or cleansing, that unburdened him.
	He was taking Ar-Hur’s advice. He was trusting in himself and finally finding a much needed peace of mind -- he’d found himself.
	Phillip strolled over to their pallets. Viewing his kin skeptically, one eyebrow cocked at an upward angle, he remarked matter-of-factly, “I believe that this little outing has finally taken its toll on the dear boy.”
	He winked. Grinning sheepishly, he pointed a thumb at Michall and shrugged. “He’s never been one to awaken on the sunny side of the blanket so to speak.”
	Torch flew back over to join them, and Michall gasped while pointing at Phillip. “I believe he should be masked as a mute!” and howled.
	Torch’s eyes scanned slowly up and down, taking in Phillip’s stance and then nodded at Michall. Phillip’s confused scowl only caused another bout of gaiety to burst forth from the two.
	Tilly, never very far from her hearts desire, swooped down on the laughing pair to shake her finger in warning. The gesture didn’t have its desired effect for the two bellowed even louder.
	Undaunted, Tilly landed protectively upon Phillip’s shoulder and began to coo sweetly into his ear. Seeing the stain of embarrassment cross Phillip’s features, Ra-May joined in on the laughter.
	“At least there is still one amongst us that shows loyalty,” Phillip stated with all the bravado he could muster. It was very hard to feign insult if he didn’t really feel any, and it wasn’t long before he joined them in their infectious mirth.
	“Enough!” Michall gasped, tears running unheeded down his cheeks as he took in great gulps of air. His sides hurt from the effort. Weakly, this time he pleaded, “Enough?”
	It took them a few moments to collect themselves. Michall sighed, thinking how good it felt to release the tight hold he’d kept on his emotions. For him life was beginning anew. He pledged that he’d learn to cherish its beginnings and lead a different sort of life than he’d been living.
	When he was able to speak again, he stated his intentions, “I have given the matter of this village a lot of thought. I knew that we couldn’t just ride in looking like we do now. We look like trouble come to call. And let’s not forget that only two of us are human.”
	He paused, letting everything sink in. Looking around, judging each face, he continued, “What I hope to do is use concealment in such a way that we can ride through unhindered. There will be natural curiosity but hopefully nothing more.”
	Ra-Nu and El-Cha had joined them.
	Michall nodded at their approach but didn’t pause in his speech. “What we must try to replicate is the look of nothing more than weary travelers. Poor travelers! That means no show of coin, or weapons. Our weapons alone resemble nothing that a common peasant would carry. They must remain hidden.”
	Looking to Ra-May, he advised, “You should bind your hair and hide it deep within your hood. Your appearance must seem to be that of a lad. Also, you must try to keep your eyes downcast.
	‘Those golden beauties alone could start a riot,’ he mused silently.
	Looking away, he turned to the two Fire Elves, “Torch, Tilly, I’m sorry, but you must hide yourselves within one of our saddle bags. I realize it will be uncomfortable, but it is necessary.”
	“How do your purport to hide our garments?” this question asked by El-Cha.
	“Yes, even our leathers will give us away if we aren’t careful. I hate to ruin good gear, but it can’t be helped. We’ll have to dirty our cloaks, even tear and remend them if we must to make them look worn and old. For the short time we’ll have to be within the village, I believe the cloaks will be a sufficient shield. Finally, if our postures say we are no more than poor unfortunates, then we might have a chance of passing unnoticed.”
	“Michall, why not just wrap ourselves in El-Cha or Ra-May’s magic? Why go through all this trouble? Why not remain the same, allowing the magic to mask us and fool all who look our way?” Phillip asked, acting as if it were the simplest thing in the world to do. From what little he’d seen of magic, it seemed an easy enough thing to accomplish for either Elf.
	“That is a valid question, and believe me when I say I have considered this option. Correct me if I’ve learned wrong,” he asked of El-Cha, “but doesn’t magic leave a trail, a beacon so to speak for another to follow, or feel, if they possess the skill?”
	El-Cha nodded in the affirmative.
	“So, if we used magic and this Del-a-Shar was near, then we would stand out more fiercely than if we rode into this town fully armed?”
	El-Cha again nodded that this was so.
	“I see your point,” Phillip stated. “So, when do we need to be ready?”
	“As soon as possible. I wish to be well away from the village’s occupants by the fall of second cycle.”
	“Goodness, Michall. You really have gotten into this, haven’t you?” Phillip chimed in expectantly. “I always knew that your skills were rather extraordinary, but even I haven’t seen this side of you. What has happened to the dark and silent prince I know so well?”
	Michall smiled, taking no offense. He knew that most of Phillip’s remarks hid feelings that ran much deeper than the others could guess. Michall could read him well and noted the perplexity his kin felt at the swift change that had come over his prince.
	Michall shrugged, stating in a relaxed tone, “Phillip, I guess it’s just the adventurer in me.”
	He laughed, feeling at peace even though he knew that the really tough part of their journey lay in the future -- into the void of the unknown.

Chapter Twenty-four
Premonition

	Mikam paced back and forth over the intricately patterned carpet, unable to shake the uneasy feeling that he’d awaken with. It clung to him like a shadow, taking hold and refusing to retreat.
	He continued to pace, trying to relax his thoughts while hoping for enlightenment to his weary mind. He wished whatever nagged at him would announce itself soon.
	He thought that, somehow, Michall was the cause of his worry. As if it wasn’t enough that the fool girl...now what was her name? ‘Ah,’ finally recalling, ‘Marthee’...had been hinting around the Palace that his son had been somewhat less than discrete with her.
	From what Mikam could pick up in the whispers of the servants, she had been letting it about that she was to be wed to the Prince. As far as he could make out, she was trying to convince the household that she was soon to bear Michall an heir.
	‘Well,’ Mikam snorted. ‘Time would tell that little tale out.’
	He wasn’t about to jump to any conclusions. He would give his son a chance to defend himself first before making any decisions concerning her.
	He knew it wasn’t Marthee. She had caused him a bare moments pause. If it had been the other one, the one Michall left with, then he might have taken the matter more seriously. He knew his son’s feelings for that one.
	Yet something pulled at him, denying him peace of mind. He restlessly circled the chamber. Suddenly, he stopped. A mental link formed, directing his scattered thoughts.
	He realized with a start that he didn’t see with his own eyes. Instead, he shared the sight of another, its potency bruising his mind, giving great pain, much the same as an arrow piercing his flesh.
	‘What strange mischief has seized my thoughts and sight?’ he mumbled when he saw the group of travelers riding down the lonely stretch of road.
	His vision narrowed, becoming sharper -- more focused. Now he was able to make out the features of this weary group.
	‘My God!’ he thought. ‘It’s Phillip. But where was Michall? What has happened that Phillip appears before me in such a reduced state?’
	The King shivered, finding himself suddenly bathed in a cold, drenching sweat.
	The fleeting vision had been enough for the King to realize why his mood had been so plagued...Michall was in some kind of trouble and needed him. He entertained no doubts about the knowledge. If his ancient memory still served, he recognized the area that they rode. It was a dangerous section of the realm where outlaws and cutthroats flocked in great hordes, the lack of enforcement to the King’s Law being the drawing attraction. A problem that he had been struggling with for many phasings.
	The question that kept forming in his mind was why? Why were they there, and what were they heading into?
	As he paced, he mumbled into the still room, “Damn. That fool boy has gone and bitten off more than he can chew. What does he think he’ll find in the village of Carrie? I’ll tell him. It’ll be his death, that’s what it’ll be if I don’t do something about this.”
	A soft breeze sang into his chamber, a gentle whisper urging him to take action. He stepped from his chamber and shouted at his page.
	“Boy, find Captain Hendricks and be quick about it. Tell him I’m in no mood to be kept waiting.”
	The startled page nodded and took off at a run. Mikam barely saw him go, already busy making plans for the journey.
	“Yes,” he said to no one, “when I catch up to those children they’re going to have a lot of explaining to do.”
	He would see to that.
	The breeze blew his hair back from his brow, delivering a parting kiss as it died away. He thought he heard a soft sigh of relief, and he stopped and looked about but saw nothing. Shrugging, he returned to his preparations.
	Sarah entered their chambers. Taking one look at her husband’s face, she clutched her chest in dread. ‘Now what?’
	He barely noticed her as he roamed around the room. She sat down upon the cushions and watched in silence. Finally, being able to stand it no longer, she asked, “Whatever has happened?”
	Mikam turned distant eyes upon his wife and shook his head. She appeared very pale, and worry marred her face. He realized, shamefully, that she’d been a witness to his behavior. He was sorry that his emotional state had alarmed her yet he answered her honestly, “I’m going after the boy.”
	“Michall? Surely this little rumor about the Lady Marthee doesn’t warrant hauling him back here?”
	She looked long into her husband’s face and quickly derived that Marthee had nothing to do with his decision. “What has happened? Has Michall been harmed? Tell me now!” she demanded, near hysterics.
	“There has been no Carrier nor has any word been relayed to me about our son. I don’t even know for sure that where I think him to be is correct. Yet somehow I know that Michall needs my help, and I must try to provide it. I can do no less. I am compelled.”
	Sarah wondered if he’d lost his mind. Taking a deep breath, carefully concealing her own quaking emotions, she tried to phrase a question that would, hopefully, give her an answer that made sense.
	“Please, tell me what has happened that makes you think Michall has need of you?”
	“I will try,” Mikam sighed, his voice weary, strained tight by his fear. “I’ll truly try.”
	He gazed at his wife, knowing that she would find his reasons hard to understand. Taking a ragged breath, he nodded...“and in my mind and in my heart,” he finished, “I know that the boy needs me. I’ve been given a rare glimpse of his whereabouts, be it divine hand or only a deluded dream brought on by a father’s fear, I know not! I only know that my belief in this knowledge has spurred me to act.”
	“But what has made you so very angry?” Sarah demanded.
	“Fear! Fear has made me angry. I fear for him and his companions. Something is wrong. I feel this as I would feel your soothing touch upon my brow, and it chills my blood. So, I go in hopes that I might catch up to him before I also know sorrow.”
	Seeing the strain on Mikam’s pain-riddled face, she sighed, “Then go and ride quickly. Bring him home before harm befalls him.”
	She reached out and took him in her arms. They remained silent, taking comfort in each others embrace. No words were necessary.
	A loud knock echoed into the silent chamber, successfully shattering their solitude.
	Mikam acknowledged the sound, and his Captain entered. The King bellowed loudly at the man before he could place his foot securely into the room. “Prepare for a journey. Take a full Company of our best men. Be sure that they are fully armed and ready for anything that might cross our path. I would be off before this cycle wanes.”
	Without giving voice to the swirling questions the order had produced, the Captain bowed and left the room.
	Mikam turned his stout form from Sarah and staunchly resumed his packing.
	Outside, Captain Hendricks hastened to carry out his King’s command. Where they were going or what they would be facing he would find out soon enough. For now he knew his main concern was to be ready when the answers came.
	He thought that this was probably another mishap that the young fool Phillip had gotten the prince into. He chuckled as he remembered the last time that the King had been so agitated.
	It seemed then that the ever mischievous Phillip had gotten the young prince thrown into the local poky of some god-forsaken town. The King had ridden there and paid a good many people off just to bring those two home again.
	‘Ha,’ he mused, remembering the incident. ‘This could be an interesting journey.’
	He knew, as all the Palace did, that Michall and Phillip had been absent now for many turns and that the Queen was highly agitated because of their prolonged absence.
	He allowed a sly grin to cross his stern face as he recalled the boys’ last great escapade. If he remembered rightly, the Queen hadn’t known about it nor was he certain that she was aware of it yet. All who were involved had been sworn to secrecy by the King.
	It had been an interesting trip. All the way home Michall had sat his horse in a foul mood, glaring darkly at Phillip. Nonplused, Phillip had chattered away as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
	As far as the Captain knew that had been the last time that the prince had allowed Phillip free reign when it came to his activities.
	He held his grin while addressing the awaiting Guard. He nodded his choices as he marched past, doing all of it without thinking. They were all good men. He didn’t really think that this was to be a journey for combat. If Phillip was involved, it could prove to be very expensive but not overly dangerous...at least not for his men. Now, as far as Phillip was concerned, Hendricks could not say if his hide was safe. He laughed again, shaking his head.
	Standing ready, all were waiting for the signal to depart when the King bounded down the steps and into the courtyard, bellowing loudly for his own mount.
	“We go now and know that we will travel as the wind. I fear that time is of the utmost importance,” Mikam stated with authority.
	Captain Hendricks nodded. With a wave of his hand, the men began to move forward at a leery gait.
	“Where do we ride, my King?” Hendricks quarried.
	“To the village of Carrie -- as the crow flies.”
	Having stated his destination, the King spurred his mount and shot off toward the gates.
	“Carrie?” the Captain spoke into the swirling dust. “I wonder just what those two have gotten themselves into this time.”
	Spurring his own mount, the whole troop took off after their King.
	In the balcony window, Sarah watched them ride off. She watched until she could no longer see their dust in the sky. Then with tears burning her eyes, she turned back toward her compartments, silently wishing that all this was just a bad dream.
	The King and his men rode all through the cycle at a break neck speed. They stopped only long enough to rest their mounts, eat, and then ventured back to the trail again.
	As they rode, the Captain watched the trail. He saw signs that many had come this way. As far as he could discern, none had been in any hurry. He reasoned that at the pace Mikam was setting and the apparent slower pace of the others, it wouldn’t be long before they caught up to them. Hopefully it was Michall they tailed, there could be no way of knowing for sure.
	The King seemed sure. He remained in a deep frenzy, the air hissing with his urgency. Hendricks wondered when Mikam would tell him what this was all about. His curiosity was threatening to get the better of him.
	He had believed this journey was nothing more than a parent out to stop a wayward child, yet something in the King’s manner suggested that perhaps he was wrong.
	He wondered anew about the two children and just what the King would do when they caught up to them. He grinned as they raced along. All he knew for sure was that after this neck-breaking speed, the boys’ had better not disappoint him. He hoped it would be a ‘Phillip Special’, a real breath-stopper! For nothing else would serve his sense of justice after the soreness he knew he would suffer from this ride.

Chapter Twenty-five
Carrie

	Michall was finally satisfied. Somehow they’d managed to transform themselves into the semblance of weary, down-on-their-luck peasants, resembling nothing near the young, capable individuals he knew them to be.
	It had taken most of early cycle to effect the illusion, but the feat had been accomplished in the end. Michall felt that at least now they would draw no more notice than that of natural curiosity for strangers. At least he hoped so.
	Yet he remained concerned. Ra-May was the only female among them that would be seen. He knew very well what would happen should she be discovered, and they were unable to defend her. The thought chilled him.
	Although she’d managed to conceal her shape and her hair was now hidden beneath her hood, there was nothing she could do to conceal the brilliance of her eyes.
	As he tried to come up with a solution for her very effeminate features, she presented him with yet another obstacle. She refused to take off her Circlet.
	He fumed under his breath, all the while trying to reason with her but to no avail. The Circlet remained.
	He wished that he was able to summon a spell like the one she’d spun on him before entering the ‘Tree’. He might have Elfen blood flowing through his veins, but he had no idea how to use it. The idea was a useless and deceitful thought, but he understood now why she had done it in the first place. He was as stubborn as she...and they both knew it.
	In part desperation and part frustration, they reached a compromise. She agreed to lower her eyes, keeping the gold of her orbs and the glint of her Circlet safely concealed under her hood.
	When she pulled the hood down over her forehead to illustrate, Michall had to agree that it did indeed hide her features well enough. He could do no more than silently worry now. It was time to be off.
	Dirt streaked anxious faces while mud clung forlornly to abused clothing as they made their way toward the village. Michall signaled to Torch and Tilly who nodded. Climbing into Phillip’s saddle bags, they pulled the flaps down secure above them. Once they were safely tucked out of sight, he motioned to all to assume the appropriate stature.
	He watched as they took on their roles. He scanned the waiting group with a leery eye. Satisfied, he nodded. They were as ready as they were ever going to be. He just hoped it was enough. Nerves drew tight as they neared their destination. They rode forward in silence. All senses sharp, on guard to possible traps. None came.
	It didn’t take long for the outskirts of the village to come into view. Michall slowed his mount and waited for the others to draw along side.
	“Remember, we’re of no threat. We’re nothing more than poor peasants passing through. Be on alert, act your part, keep the pride from your posture, and pray that we meet no resistance.”
	They nodded. Michall looked toward Ra-May, lowering his eyes. She immediately pulled her hood down over her brow.
	‘At least,’ he thought to himself, ‘she’ll not fight me when I really need her to listen.’
	Slowly, with deliberate, deceptive movements, the small group plodded toward the center of the village -- if ‘village’ was what one should call the rat-infested mud-hole.
	Buildings appeared to either side of them, lopsided, rundown things, constructed of canvas tarp and the skins of long dead animals. The skins were in various stages of decline with huge sections of the hides either missing or eaten away by rot.
	Debris and other enigmatic matter littered the streets, and the stench from it drifted upward to taint the air with its putrid odor.
	Phillip mumbled as he brought a hand up to his mouth. Michall felt like doing the same but refrained.
	The inhabitants appeared no better, sloven and as contemptible as their village. Their attitudes showed no concern for their odious condition.
	Covert stares peered at them from the shadows of darkened doorways or openly from the grimy faces of the villagers they met upon the road. There were no friendly faces to be found, only guarded stares from those who had forgotten how to care.
	Phillip’s complaints grew louder. Michall, his shoulders slumped in a lowly downcast bearing, pinned him with a heated glare, silencing his murmurs.
	They passed unnoticed for half the distance through the village. Michall was quietly thanking whatever guardian was watching over them for their undisturbed passage when the path took a sharp turn to the left.
	He heard the noise long before he saw the source. The roguish laughter echoing out to him could mean only one thing.
	As he rounded the corner he saw that his fears were well founded.
	Before him stood an ‘Inn’, if one could describe it as such. Two stories, it was the only wood structure in sight. A shaky railing surrounded a rickety porch that appeared to be the only obstacle to its total collapse. The patrons, mostly male, leaned lazily upon it, unconcerned that its moans could topple them at any moment.
	These men were rough looking, the type that picked a fight for sheer entertainment. One cackled hoarsely and pointed in their direction. Michall tensed but kept moving.
	As he passed, he saw a few seedy patrons come stumbling out of a lopsided door and turn to watch his small band ride by. Crude remarks accented by even cruder laughter could be heard being bantered about between them.
	He longed to give answer with his fist but knew the option wasn’t open to him -- not if he wanted to get everyone out of the hellhole in one piece. He stiffened his spine and continued riding forward.
	It felt, at least to Michall, that time was creeping, and that their advancement was at a crawl.
	He had to control the conflicting urges battling within him. First, he wanted to turn and teach the drunken sots a lesson about insults. Secondly, he wanted to kick his horse hard and thunder away from the place as fast as possible. Neither urge could be answered.
	He’d finally inched past the Inn and was beginning to breathe a little easier. He could see Phillip coming up on his right. Ra-May would be directly behind him with Ra-Nu and El-Cha sharing a mount, bringing up the rear.
	‘Almost over,’ he thought with relief.
	But relief turned out to be a short-lived emotion.
	A commotion arose from behind him. He wheeled his mount around so quickly that he had to fight to remain seated. His mount whirled in tight, nervous circles, fighting Michall for control. He reined in and brought the animal to heel. Wiping sweat from his brow, he sought the source of the commotion. There, centered around his mate, was the disquiet.
	His heart raced.
	He didn’t think the men realized she was female as he took note of their assured gait. Perhaps they mistook her as nothing more than easy prey...the smallest of the group.
	Michall spurred his mount toward them, hoping against hope that he could get there before anyone revealed their weapons. It was still possible to get out of the situation without fighting.
	Being in the lead, he didn’t arrive as quickly as Ra-Nu. Ra-Nu the Warrior, Ra-Nu the guardian, was already there, sword in hand, ready to slice the men in half.
	‘Too late to avoid weaponry,’ Michall thought, vaulting from his saddle and grabbing Power from its hiding place. At least he would be able to answer his first urge.
	He moved swiftly into the fray. He thought he heard Phillip muttering behind him but had no time to comprehend. The melee was on in earnest.
	Men came pouring out of the Inn, their lungs filled with blood cries and heads filled with drunken abandonment, ready and anxious to join in on the brawl.
	One of the thugs managed to drag Ra-May, kicking and clawing, from her mount. He laughed, amused by her struggles. His huge, meaty grip successfully captured her slim wrists, his strength holding her to him.
	Michall carved a bloody path through what had quickly become a mob while keeping his eyes trained on his mate. Yet he got no closer. No matter how many he faced, he could not gain the advantage. Others eagerly rushed in to fill the void, constantly pushing Ra-May just beyond his reach.
	The worst of his fears were soon realized. As he watched, Ra-May’s hood loosened, sliding backwards to reveal her long, golden locks.
	The man went suddenly still, Ra-May held before him, and stared. Slowly, a wicked grin spread across his features -- a grin that Michall understood all too well. The dark prince roared, his anger wafting into the air as he pressed in toward them.
	Ra-Nu was trapped, busy squaring off with the vermin pouring from the Inn. He could not reach Ra-May. El-Cha and Phillip couldn’t give aid either they too were battling for their lives.
	Michall fought by sheer instinct, barely aware of those who engaged him.
	He heard Phillip cry out and his blood chilled. “Please, God,” he whispered. “Please, let him be alive!”
	Ra-May took advantage of the man’s momentary shock and yanked one small wrist free. Pulling out her dagger, she thrust it swiftly into his ribs. He died with his lewd grin still locked on his face.
	Her hair flew about her in wild disarray as she swung her head about, her eyes wide, her movements quick and anxious. Locating Michall, she pushed in his direction but found her path blocked. She was now a highly coveted prize of the drunken scum. She brought her blade up and faced them.
	Michall pressed onward, momentarily loosing sight of her in the confusion. His arm ached with the constant slashing, and he longed to rest it at his side. Some part of his numb brain realized that to rest would cost him his life, so he fought on.
	There seemed to be too many men streaming from the Inn, and the odds were stacked against them. He knew that he didn’t stand a chance of surviving yet he continued to hack away. He would die with his sword drawn. For him it could be no other way.
	Something sharp bit into his leg, just below his knee, and he felt his footing give way. He hit the ground hard. He saw a pool of blood puddling about him, streaming freely down his leg. His mind tried to explain it away, telling him to rise and fight on, it was nothing more than an inconvenience.
	‘I must get us out of here!’ he numbed mind thought, even as he grew chilled. He had begun to sink into shadowy disorientation when something bounced off his head, and darkness overtook him.
	El-Cha saw Michall fall and so was the first to call the magic. He knew that if the Del-a-Shar was near he would know them even without the casting, and so he called. He could not stand by and watch his new friends die.
	With what little remaining strength he possessed, he encased himself in the glow of a magical web. Completely shielded, he raised his arms and called out to the winds.
	Nature answered, sending breezes and bellowing clouds of gray to overtake the village. Energy surged through the air, charging the winds, giving the clouds the added strength they needed to heed El-Cha’s call.
	“I command you...carry us away. Take us from this evil place and deliver us to safety,” El-Cha screamed into the roaring swirls of abstruse power.
	The wind obeyed, swooping down upon the streets to gather them into an airy embrace. Soon the whole area was awash with its power. If the villagers were frightened, El-Cha did not concern himself with it. And if the Del-a-Shar was near, let him try and catch this wind. He sighed as he relaxed in the invisible arms of nature. He hoped that no one was left behind. He had not had the time to prepare a fail-safe spell and now did not possess the energy to redirect it.
	He laid back, comforted by the gentle rocking of the breeze and fell into a much needed sleep. His last thoughts before surrendering to unconsciousness had been of Ra-Jee...the Ra-Jee of his youth...the city he left behind.

Chapter Twenty-six
Scattered

	“Ah, and what mysteries abound within the mists of magic? Do any of you know?” he asked, his voice little more than a whisper. Tiny heads bobbed from side-to-side in reply.
	“Just as I thought!” he confirmed. “Now we will discover what awaited them within the swirling mists!...”

	...Michall woke with a start and instinctively reached for his sword.
	Taking note of his surroundings, he quickly became confused.
	‘Is it possible?’ he wondered. ‘Could I have been wounded so deeply that we came so far without me even being aware of it?’
	As he made to rise, his head reacted with a painful throbbing to confirm that it could indeed be possible. He eased carefully back down, no longer wondering if he’d been unconscious. The ache in his head and the hole in his memory confirmed it.
	“It can’t be!” he moaned.
	 The smell from the sea washed over his senses as he waited for the drumming in his head to fade. The cry of nearby water fowl echoed to the beat within his skull.
	‘It’s impossible!’ his mind argued.
	With great effort he pulled himself into a sitting position and sighed with relief when he’d accomplished the small feat. Another bolt of pain erupted within his skull, causing a cold, clammy sweat to soak his body. He rubbed his head, surprised that the blow hadn’t killed him.
	He spied Ra-May propped against a rock, her body squirming in fitful slumber. Relief washed over him.
	“What is going on?” he queried.
	He tried to stand but was halted by more pain. What with the pounding within his head he’d all but forgotten about his leg wound. Now its presence became predominant. He could barely move it. A frustrated sigh escaped him.
	Ra-May awoke and, seeing him sitting up, hurried to his side.
	“Where are we? Where are the others?” he asked, his tone giving evidence to his confusion.
	“I do not know.”
	“Do you mean you don’t know where we are or that you don’t know where the others are?”
	“Both.”
	Michall studied her face, seeing the wild look in her eyes as they darted about, constantly on the move while she chewed upon her lower lip.
	Running a hand through thick, tangled hair, he shrugged, “It’s just you and me?”
	She nodded. “Aye. I have looked but cannot locate the others.”
	Seeing the shadow of worry cross her face; witnessing the tightness of fatigue enshroud itself about her shoulders, he quickly buried his own fears. He wouldn’t add to her distress.
	He wished the torment within his head would cease its relentless assault long enough for him to make sense of their present situation.
	Lightly caressing her ashen cheek, he continued in careful, measured tones, “Just explain to me how we got here, and then maybe we can determine where the rest of our friends are.”
	He watched her chew upon her lower lip and added reassuringly, “I’m certain they’re somewhere near.”
	She shook her head to deny him. “We rode the wind -- for a long time. I sensed you were beside me, but I could not feel the others. El-Cha was the caster, of that I am certain, but as to what he wove I do not know. First, we were there,” she stated flatly as she pointed to the distant landscape behind her, “and now we are here,” finishing her motion by pointing downward to the sand they rested upon.
	“Here! Yes, we’re here,” Michall answered with firm resolution.
	She turned questioning eyes upon him but held silent.
	Again he shrugged. ‘How did one explain the inconceivable?’
	“Ra-May, somehow we’ve arrived at our destination. We sit on what is called the higher lands of Sol. If we walk due west for a short distance then we’ll be in the lower lands. That is, I believe, where we must go. It is in fact where I was leading us all along. This is where I think we’ll find the darkness that plagues our dreams.”
	She studied their surroundings with eyes that had turned cold and calculating. There was a hard edge to her voice as she stated, “So now, the battle begins.”
	He watched her for any signs of fear but saw only resolve and what he could only describe as a barely controlled anger. ‘It seems that I am the only one afraid here.’
	He changed the direction of their conversation. “Surely our friends can’t be too far off. Most likely the wind just scattered them further away. They’re probably searching for us at this very moment. Come, shall we make it easier for them?”
	“Aye,” she sighed, although her tone suggested it would do no good. Standing, she offered her arm in support. “They are surely as worried for us as we are for them.”
	“Yes, I’m sure they are.”
	Michall soon discovered that walking wasn’t going to be an easy matter. He could barely support his weight on the injured leg and was forced to lean heavily on Ra-May in order to move at all. It didn’t take long before he begged exhaustion.
	Sweating more than a man of his age ought, he laughed loudly, “We make a fine pair, you and I,” and sat heavily upon the ground. Looking up to his enchantress’ drawn face, he sighed, “We’ll be lucky if we make it down this hill without me falling and breaking my neck. Most likely yours, too.”
	Her strickened features caused him to chuckle. Reaching for her ever-present support, he said, “It’ll be all right.”
	Suppressing a groan, he leaned upon her shoulder and added, “Ready to toss caution to the winds?”
	She eyed him quizzically. He only grinned in response.
	Grinning back, she nodded, her smile giving Michall hope, “Aye, I am!”
	Fortified, they limped down the trail, ready to face whatever doom lay in wait...

“...and then his world flipped, his reality split, and Michall found himself balanced between two actualities, but living neither,” the Storyteller stated cryptically. “You see, my children, the spirit is hard to break when there is hope...and what of their companions? Well...remember, magic was at work here.”
	The old man smiled wisely...

	...Phillip woke slowly, forced to fight his way to consciousness. He struggled groggily through multiple layers of swirling fog and disjointed thoughts only to find Tilly anchored firmly on his chest, softly caressing his cheek.
	Somehow his jaw had become stiff. He could feel a painful swelling along its line. Ah, he remembered now...it was that rather strange man he’d been parlaying with in that god-forsaken village. Why, the man hadn’t the foggiest notion about fair play.
	If his memory served, the cad had laughed at him when he’d bowed to signal the beginning of the fight...and had not so nicely hammered him in his jaw with the end of his crude sword.
	That was the last thing he remembered. Looking around, he wasn’t sure that he was really, truly awake even now. He shook his head in an effort to clear away the fog. He squeezed his eyes shut very tightly, then popped them open quickly, but to no avail. He was still trapped within this strange dream. It had to be a dream, there was no other way his mind could explain it.
	Tilly called out to Torch the moment she saw that Phillip was awake. Torch, grumpy as ever, snorted, “I presume, human, that you will survive. Tilly come away from him.”
	“Why truly, I believe I shall. Ever-so-kind of you to ask though,” Phillip remarked. Looking around at the scenery, he mumbled, “I see that our little foray hasn’t damaged your mood in any way. I’m so very glad to see some things never change,” Phillip continued acidly. “Now do be so kind as to tell me where in creation we are and what has become of my kin?”
	“I do not know where we are nor do I know where the rest have gone. I have reached out to them, but there is nothing to touch. They are not here,” came Torch’s immediate reply. “We no longer preside amongst things that are familiar. We are no longer within a world I know.”
	Turning to meet Phillip’s open stare, he stated stubbornly, “I do not like this place.”
	“Are you trying to imply that we are dead? No, I don’t care to believe that nor will I entertain the notion. I can’t believe that I’d be locked in eternity with you two. Even I don’t merit that harsh a punishment.”
	Torch shook his head, skeptical to the very bone. “If it is as you say, human, then explain where we are. The things that I have seen are not of my world nor yours. If not dead, then certainly near.”
	“Really, Torch. My jaw hurts too much to be dead. Besides, you two haven’t been out of the forest for a very long time. Things have changed since you were sent away. Come on, let’s walk for a time. Perhaps something will spark a memory that can explain our surroundings.”
	Phillip rose and looked around. He hated to admit it, but he’d never seen a world such as this. There were too many oddities and too much sand and stone.
	He tried not to let his confusion show. Torch was right, it was a very strange place. Perhaps they really were dead. He rejected the thought quickly. He didn’t want to let his thoughts travel that path.
	He walked through the hot, gritty sand while the two Fire Elves flew beside him. Their path brought them to a strange fence that winked at them when the sun’s rays reflected off its smooth surface. It didn’t seem to serve any practical purpose as far as Phillip could see. It was designed too close to the ground to actually keep anything out.
	Stepping easily over it, he arrived on what amounted to a stone road. They apparently had been dropped on just this side of some rather large, major roadway. Not one he recognized, but a major roadway just the same.
	He tapped his toe against the stone, unsure of what it was they had used to create this masterpiece of seamless stone. Sighting down its length, he saw that it lead straight toward an extremely large town.
	Looking at Torch, he shrugged, “I admit it resembles nothing I’ve ever seen before, but,” he added sheepishly, “I’m not exactly well-traveled either. We might as well follow this roadway and see what town lies up ahead. Maybe it will shed some light on where we really are.”
	Torch shrugged. “I do not care. We are dead, so what harm.”
	Phillip pointed a finger in his direction, opened his mouth, started to say something, then snapped it shut again and waved the little Elf forward.
	They hadn’t gone very far when Tilly screamed. Torch and Phillip both swung their heads about but saw only Tilly pointing a shaky finger out before her. There, coming fast down the strange roadway, roared a huge beast. Phillip’s jaw fell open.
	As it drew nearer, he saw that its feet were round and flowed easily along the slick black surface. The beast itself was round with a smooth, shiny hide, the skin nearly blinded them as the sun caught its hues.
	“I must be dreaming,” Phillip swore, reaching for his sword, but Torch’s solution was swifter.
	Quickly, before the thing could come any closer, he called upon his fire and sent a hot spear into the beast’s paws. There was a loud popping noise and a horrible grating sound, then it veered off the roadway.
	Torch smiled, his face beaming with smug satisfaction while Phillip remained spellbound.
	The beast came to a halt along the side of the roadway. With a croak, its side split, expelling a man from its guts.
	“Lord,” Phillip moaned. “Stranger and stranger does this vision grow.”
	The man, not acting at all grateful for his unsolicited rescue, looked down at the wounded paw and yelled something inaudible while throwing his arms skyward. They watched too stunned to speak as he went behind the beast and opened its hide there. Soon he could be seen wheeling an identical paw over to the wounded one. As the three outsiders watched, he went about the business of reshoeing the creature. Once finished, he reentered its belly and the beast roared away.
	As the impossible filtered through to a mind struggling for some rational explanation, Phillip became aware, vaguely, of Tilly’s laughter. He turned toward her, eyebrows raised in question.
	“Oh, Phillip, how silly we are. Tis so! The beast was nothing more than a carriage for travel.”
	He nodded. Actually, for the sake of his sanity, he grasped at the idea and made it fit.
	Cautiously, they made their way toward the town keeping to the side of the roadway. After their encounter with the ‘beast’, they really didn’t relish the idea of running headlong into another.
	They continued onward, and after a while they even managed to not flinch each time one of the strange carriages roared past.
	In fact, once one had even pulled over in front of them. The man inside its belly had asked if they needed a ‘lift’. Phillip had replied, ‘No, he had nothing heavy enough to warrant a need for aid.’
	The fellow had eyed him uncertainly as a frown formed across his brow before slamming shut the beast’s side and departing.
	Phillip had looked at Torch and shrugged, “Well, the very least he could have done was offer us transportation, don’t you agree?”
	Torch had nodded enthusiastically.
	As they drew ever closer to the unknown town, Phillip began to make out distinct features of the surrounding buildings. And he confirmed anxiously that this wasn’t like any other place he’d ever been to before.
	Everywhere he looked he saw tall buildings made of fine polished stone, rising high into the sky. Windows sparkled, winking their cheery greetings as they moved ever deeper into the strange surroundings.
	The paved roadway continued ahead of them, but now there were miniatures of it gliding along next to the buildings. Phillip noted that the inhabitants were walking on the smaller roadway and so maneuvered himself there.
	People were everywhere. Phillip was amazed. He’d been to many fairs and other gatherings where people came from all over the land, but here in this town they amassed and outnumbered all those remembered gatherings combined.
	He took special note of their clothes. ‘Interesting,’ he thought, ‘but still strange. The men wore long trousers that flowed loosely away from the skin. The material appeared to be light and smooth. He didn’t think he would have been comfortable without his leather for protection.
	The women either wore very short skirts that showed their entire leg or pants that hugged their shape in much the same manner as his own leathers, but he seriously doubted they were tight for protection. There was nothing for it -- he stared. “Maybe I have died and gone to heaven after all.”
	Although his mouth gaped open at the odd clothing, especially the garments the women wore, “Scandalous,” he’d sighed, true disbelief was achieved when confronted by their solemn, unapproachable mannerisms.
	“Do none here understand the need to relax once in a while?” he asked of himself. For answer, he shrugged. Perhaps he’d been taught differently. Where he came from, people took the time to be civil.
	From time to time the inhabitants would stop and stare at the trio, but most swiftly passed them by while throwing quick glances back over their shoulders.
	Whispering voices wafted on the breeze, the sound muffled behind cupped hands as they walked by...“How very strange,” they’d comment...or, “Look, did you see that stranger? Isn’t he odd?”
	“Hump,” Phillip remarked with a great deal of dignity, “Imagine how strange they seem to me!”
	As he’d noted earlier, everywhere he looked there was evidence of the need to hurry on, rushing to wherever their impatient steps carried them. These people might be noticing him, but no one was going to stop and question them.
	In fact, he’d tried to slow some of them down when they had first arrived just to ask about the area, but they’d only stared at him, mumbled, and quickly rushed away. He’d given up trying almost from the start.
	They acted as if he’d grown horns or had some contagious disease he wished to share with them. Remembering Torch’s magic, he cautiously ran a shaky hand through his windblown hair. Phillip wasn’t sure just how badly Torch disliked him and was relieved to note that besides his very tangled hair he didn’t sport a pair of spikes.
	Phillip had the Fire Elves perched on his shoulders, and so far no one had really noticed them, everyone staring at him, alone. “Perhaps they’ve never seen such a fine specimen before. Ha! Let them look.”
	He didn’t really believe it, but it helped him keep up his bravado. The plain, simple truth was that he was afraid.
	He was beginning to have a very bad feeling about all this. This was definitely not his world. By the Gods...how he hated magic!
	He kept walking on the footpath and eventually came upon a section where all the buildings had large, clear windows running the length of their fronts, the glass reaching almost down to the footpath.
	On the other side of these windows were displays of marvelous things, things that Phillip didn’t understand but found fascinating all the same. “Fancy owning all of these strange things, Torch? It’s a virtual treasure trove.”
	“It is odd,” Torch grumped.
	Phillip didn’t miss the note of fear in his tiny voice. He reached up and patted his companion’s shoulder, hoping Torch would accept the gesture and not take offense.
	For all the wonder of the glass world and the many displays of horded wealth therein, it didn’t really take Phillip long to lose interest. The strangeness reminded him that he was lost, tired, and scared. Three things that he didn’t like to acknowledge, or endure. He strolled along looking at everything but seeing nothing.
	Without warning, Torch reached up and yanked hard on his hair, painfully capturing his attention.
	“Yowl! Why did you do that?” Phillip complained, scowling sideways at the little flutterbug. “What have I done now?”
	“Look, human, there in that building. What do you see?”
	Phillip followed the direction of Torch’s finger and let his breath out in a hiss. “It can’t be! I don’t believe it!”
	“Then, human, tell me what to believe, and I will kindly ignore that!” Torch said as he continued to point at the windows.
	Phillip leaned his head on the cool, seamless glass and stared at what was displayed within. “Impossible!” his confused whisper echoed out hollowly from the glass.
	“Someone please explain how this could come about?” he asked mainly of himself.
	Then, stiffening his shoulders, he announced, “I’m going in there. Are you two willing to come along?”
	They both nodded, and he moved to the door beside the large window. A tiny bell rang out its cheery greeting as he swung it inward. From the gloom of the distant wall an old woman rose and greeted them.
	“Welcome to my shop. What can I be doin’ for ya?”
	Phillip looked down upon her bent, aged frame and smiled. She’d given him a decent reception, and he was grateful. Gesturing toward the front of the store, he asked if he might take a moment to examine the book that she kept in her view box.
	She nodded and walked over to the window display. Reaching in, she grabbed the book and brought it back for him. He accepted it and sank down on a bench of sorts and began to read. He didn’t realize that it wasn’t a cart but a shelf used to store other books.
	The old woman tensed. She opened her mouth to shout at him but came up short as she noted his paling countenance.
	“I see that yar’n interested in the history of Sol,” she said instead.
	“Hum? Yes, I believe you could say that,” he replied, barely aware of what she’d said, his attention reserved solely for the bound volume in his hands.
	“Well, if ya are really interested in the history, I for one can tell ya a lot more than that old book can. I happen to be related to the hero in it,” she stated proudly.
	Phillip couldn’t seem to keep his mouth from gaping open.
	“Why don’t ya join me in the back room for some tea? I’d be more than happy to tell ya all that ya want to know,” she offered, somewhat alarmed by his waning complexion.
	Phillip nodded. “I could use something to drink.”
	He rose and bowed slightly before following her into the ‘back’ room.
	She directed him to take a seat and then busied herself fixing the tea. He could do nothing but stare at the surroundings. This, he knew, was a kitchen of sorts but not like any he’d ever seen.
	Above him there glowed instant sun, caught in clear, glass tubes. As the light escaped he could hear the soft hum of its heat. He hoped that the flame didn’t deem it necessary to escape its prison while he sat beneath it.
	With considerable effort, he took his gaze from the glowing tubes and studied the rest of the room. She had running water without the aid of a pump, or at least none that he could see, and fire came to her stove with just the flick of her wrist. ‘Perhaps these people were all powerful wizards.’
	‘Now that’s a comforting thought!’ he thought sarcastically.
	“By the way, my name is Corty Michalls. And ya are?”
	Phillip stood and bowed. “I am called Phillip.”
	She giggled. Drawing a wrinkled hand to her plumb cheek, she shook her head.
	‘I wonder if I have erred in my introduction?’ Phillip questioned silently.
	“Now ya’re a young feller who ain’t forgotten how to treat a Lady. My but I could learn to like ya. Where ya from anyway?”
	Phillip didn’t know quite how to reply so he just simply told her the truth. “I hail from a distant province called Doran.”
	“Ah, I see now. That explains yar’n interest in Prince Michall.” Corty smiled fondly as she made ready to warm up to her favorite subject matter. “He was a real hero ya know. Not some run-of-the-mill made up one, not my granddad...several times removed.”
	Phillip’s mouth hung agape once again as he stammered, “Your grandsire?”
	“Yeah, he really was, though several times removed just as I said. He came to Sol a long time gone now to conquer some nasty Overlord. This Overlord had enslaved all the inhabitants of the area, and granddad just up and challenged him. Granddad told him that no one had the right to hold others in bondage, and he intended to set them free. There was a big battle, but Prince Michall’s forces won. All the folks were freed, and as it says in the fairy tales, everyone lived happily ever after.”
	“How very sporting of him, I’m sure,” Phillip said dryly under his breath. “I truly am more confused now than I was when I awoke. Perhaps,” he added hopefully, “I have not yet awoke.”
	Then the reality of her words penetrated his foggy mind. He sat upright in his seat and challenged, “Now, see here a moment, if you please. Michall didn’t have any troops with him! Oh, well, maybe a warrior or two and most certainly a woman whom I don’t mind saying was mightily armed, but I know for certes he had no army with him!”
	Smiling tightly, showing a good deal of restraint, she countered, “So, where is it ya’ve gathered all yar’n knowledgeable information from?”
	“Excuse me?” Phillip asked sweetly. He felt the swirling undercurrents but wasn’t willing to rise to the bait just yet.
	“Does Doran store information I ain’t been allowed to see? I swear if they do I’ll sue them.”
	Off in her own little world, Phillip was forced to wait her out.
	“Dear me, I’m sorely sorry. Please, tell me where ya picked up this new information? It really does mean a great bit to me.” Her embarrassment appeared genuine.
	Phillip folded his hands on the table and sighed. It was all so very confusing. He answered her truthfully as there didn’t seem to be any other option open to him. “I’m not entirely sure anymore...but I think I was there.”
	Corty laughed and reached over to pinch his arm. “Ya had me goin’ there for a while, young’en.”
	“I’m sorry, Lady Corty, but I really must put aside decent courtesy and beg to ask you a great deal of questions. I apologize for my breach of etiquette, and I do hope that you don’t tire before I have exhausted my curiosity. Might I be permitted to continue?”
	“Lady, is it? My how ya do charm. How could I refuse such a sweet gentleman. Please, ask away. I warn ya though, I really am an expert on the subject.”
	“I thought I was once as well,” Phillip mumbled.
	For most of the cycle and into the second, Phillip bombarded her with every possible question he could think of. None of the answers he received made any sense, leaving his head spinning in perplexed confusion.
	“Alas, Michall, dear boy, whatever have you done to me?”
	“What?” Corty asked.
	“Nothing, dear Lady, nothing at all.”
	Corty offered him food, and they continued their talk over their meal. He managed to sneak food to Torch and Tilly, who were now hiding within his vest pockets. He surmised that he and his friends found themselves in the town of Sol...somewhere in the future. How they happened to be here, and why, he had yet to understand.
	As the cycle progressed he grew very tired of hearing about the ‘glorious’ revolution of Sol. He was tired of being told about an outspoken Michall that he’d never known and hoped to never meet.
	“Tell me all about your family, Corty. Who did Prince Michall marry, anyway? Michall was unwed when he left Doran.” He tried to keep his anxiety at bay. He really did fear her answer.
	“Why, ya should know! He married a girl from his own kingdom. A woman by the name of Marthee. They had 10 children together.”
	“10 children did you say? Why, the very thought of Marthee baring 10 children is hard for me to imagine. No, I don’t believe that. I happen to know for a fact that he was married long before he ever came to Sol. In fact, I even know her name, Princess Ra-May of Ra-Jee!”
	“Why, ya are right about that little fact. I’m impressed. Ya really do know yar’n ‘Michall’ history. Its been so long since I’ve had anyone to talk to about these old tales who is really as interested as I am.”
	“Well?” Phillip asked, leaning forward as he spoke. “What happened to Ra-May?”
	“Oh, it’s rather sad, ya know. She up and died on the trail from Doran. It was rumored that she was fey, ya know, from the faerie folk. But most folks don’t believe in that stuff anymore.”
	“Died? I don’t think so. I know Michall, he would have died with her. I’m sure he wouldn’t have ridden here if she wasn’t at his side,” he stated vehemently. “She was the reason he left Doran in the first place. I wonder if ‘here’ is where they were coming?” He didn’t like the responses he was given, but what could he do? Something just didn’t feel right.
	“I see that ya hold a special place in yar’n heart for this Ra-May girl. Ya must have done yar’n research from that branch, bringin’ ya around to finally takin’ up interest in my Michall.”
	She winked his way, seeming to say, ‘Now it all makes sense.’ She sank into silence.
	Turning her face away, she resumed the conversation, her tone hushed as if unsure of her words reception, “There’s an old family rumor that maintains that Michall’s firstborn was really this Ra-May’s. No one really knows the truth. Records just weren’t kept at the beginnin’.”
	“It’s whispered that it’s what killed her...child birthin’ gone wrong. Anyway, the only records we have state he was legally wed to Marthee.”
	She sighed and then turned to face him again. Raising a cautionary finger to her lips, she leaned in close, seemingly intent on sharing a well-guarded secret. “I do know that after her death, ya know, the first lady, that Prince Michall forbid anyone to speak her name ever again. That is in writin’.” She shrugged and raised her eyes skyward. “Who really knows for sure. There just ain’t hardly any other records pertainin’ to her.”
	“There were witnesses -- in a dark wood, a very long time ago, far away from here,” Phillip remembered wistfully. No one could take her from his mind.
	“Witnesses? Oh, I’d love to see the records on that. Do ya think ya could send me copies?”
	“Copies?” Phillip mimicked dumbfoundly.
	In desperation, and perhaps because he needed to trust someone, he asked, “Lady Corty, do you believe in magic? I don’t mean simple Fair magic. No, I mean true magic, from the soul?”
	“Sometimes I do...sometimes. Say, young’en, do ya believe that this Ra-May was really one of those faerie folk?”
	“Yes, dear Lady, I do. I truly do believe that is what she was.”
	A faraway look claimed dominance in his clear blue eyes as he sighed, “Such a vision no man will ever see again. Her loveliness could outshine the sun, and her eyes, my, those eyes. Golden! A rare treasure to be sure. Unfortunately, they shone for Michall alone. What a lucky fellow. Would that I could find such a love,” he finished.
	“Ya talk as if ya’ve seen her. Are there paintin’s hidden away somewhere? Oh, ya make my old blood run swift, ya do.”
	“Lady Corty, I’ve got to talk to someone about what has happened to me. I don’t wish to alarm you or have you think me crazy, although Michall has wondered that of me from time to time,” he laughed nervously. “I must trust you, I’ve no one else to turn to. Please, just hear me out before you call your local Constable.”
	She nodded for him to continue, never taking her eyes from his face.
	Phillip leaned back in his chair, taking Corty’s frail hands within his strong ones, he told his story, the absolute truth as he remembered it...
	“...and that is all I recall, my dear -- that is until I awoke in this strange place...what I’ve come to believe might be my world’s future.”
	Corty had sat spellbound as he told his tale. His voice had swelled with the raw, husky tones of strong emotions -- and barely concealed fear.
	He’d watched her reactions, and although there had been many, none seemed to charge him crazy. In fact, she’d seem to nod from time to time as if she understood, while silent tears would stem from her accepting eyes and flow unchecked down her downy cheeks.
	She laughed when he’d finished and swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. Rising, she stretched, stating calmly, “Please, wait here. I think I have somethin’ that ya be wantin’. I’ll just run and get it. Won’t be but a sec.”
	“Well, I tried,” Phillip sighed. “She’s gone off to fetch the Constable, and there is nothing I can do to prevent it. I’m sorry, my little fireflies, I tried.”
	He pulled his pockets open to nod at Torch and Tilly. They looked as defeated as he felt.
	Corty returned much sooner than Phillip would have thought. In her hand she carried a dusty old pouch. Phillip recognized it at once.
	“Here ya go. If ya really are who ya claim to be then ya’ll find this of interest. Go on, open it.”
	Phillip took the pouch of crumbling leather and opened it, finding another bundle wrapped tightly in animal skin nestled within. He drew it near, viewing its insignia. The seal remained intact.
	He looked up to Corty.
	She laughed again and patted him on the arm. “That there is a family heirloom, handed down from generation to generation. Ain’t never been opened. That was part of the care of it. Couldn’t be opened by no one, ‘cept ya,” she added, flashing her toothy grin at him.
	“What you’re saying,” he gasped, “is that no one has ever attempted to open this? Never? What is in here?”
	“I don’t know. It ain’t never been opened, silly. I’m just as anxious as ya right now, young’en. Open it, huh?” she coaxed.
	Phillip remained locked in silence. Staring at the yellowed skin before him, he was torn between knowing and running from the explanations that the pouch must surely contain.
	“Well,” Corty uttered, her tone noticeably disappointed. “I guess if ya got’ta work up the nerve to open it, then I’ll just tell ya a little about what I know of that there package.”
	Phillip nodded, it was a good reason to stall.
	“The story goes like this...it was said on Michall’s deathbed that he handed that very same pouch to his eldest son...ya remember the one who some claim was the Fairy princess’?...well, anyway, he bid the son to save it for his ‘lost’ Phillip. He knew he would turn up someday. It seemed to Michall, at the time, that he had known a Phillip, and that somehow he’d been misplaced.”
	“Misplaced is a mild description to say the least,” Phillip muttered.
	Corty chuckled, “Anyway, his son looked at his Father, thinkin’ him addled, but nodded he would do as he was bid. Then Michall extracted a second promise, makin’ him swear that the pouch was never to be opened, never, until it rested in the hands of its intended. That bein’ ya, I’m thinkin’.”
	“So anyway, no ‘Phillip’ showed up durin’ that son’s lifetime, and so he gave it to his firstborn and made him give the same pledges. It was passed from hand to hand, down through the ages, until it landed in my hands. I’m so glad it will finally find its home.”
	“So it seems that you, dear Lady, might be descended from the Fairy princess after all. Yes, and by the way, she was Elf.”
	“Elf? Strange, but ya know, I’d sure like to believe that.”
	“Dear, sweet Lady, try to. I see in you so much of her and him. Hold onto that thought, for I surely will.”
	“Gosh, I wish I could have seen those bein’s ya talk about. Oh, how I envy ya.”
	Phillip smiled, amazed that she believed him so easily.
	“My Lady, it’s quite possible that I can accommodate you a bit there.”
	She clapped her hands together, “Really? Oh, that would be somethin’, wouldn’t it? If only it could be, I would leave this old world behind with a smile on my face.”
	“Now see here, we shall have no talk of death. No, that subject is not to my liking. Promise me you will not get so excited that you swoon or I shall not fulfill your wish.”
	“Oh, Phillip. I didn’t mean to say I was ready for the ground yet. Nope, I’ve got a lot of livin’ left in me yet. Gosh, ya make me feel like a kid again!” she said all aflush.
	“Well then,” he began uneasily. “First, let us see just what it is that Michall wants me to know. Then, perhaps, I will grant you your heart’s desire.”
	With trembling hands he broke the seal on the ancient skin. His pulse raced, and his breath came in shallow bursts. He fought the urge to cross himself as he unfolded the skin before him.
	He laughed nervously as he read the first line of the message. To a questioning Corty, he said, “Now here is truly a Michall I remember.”
	He began to read aloud, allowing Corty to finally know the contents of the pouch.

	‘Phillip, where in all Creation have you gotten off to? You told me you were coming along for the adventure, but as far as I can tell, you missed it.
	I’ve had an unusual dream. It is about you stuck in a wondrous land. It’s just like you to locate all the comforts you need while I was forced to endure the whims of nature.
	In my dream it was clear that you had somehow survived the attack in the village but had been thrust very far away from me.
	Somehow, my dear kin, I have glimpsed the future and found you trapped in its grasp. I believe that by you being there it has changed the outcome of my life.
	I constantly remember what was, while remaining trapped in what has become my ‘now’, forever surrounded by fools. It has made me mad...time altered, shifted into another reality that others seem to follow blindly in total ignorance.
	But time forgot to alter my mind. It has left me in limbo, seeing what was and what could have been while leaving it forever out of my reach. And when I witness what should have been...I sink into despair...and wish to die.
	It is painful when I comprehend this other path and therefore understand my loss. I only feel her presence when touched by the veils of that other world. Only then do I become alive. I long for her, but I cannot reach her for her path has altered as well.
	I don’t understand how I can walk one path yet see another one in the shadows that swirl about me. It taunts me in its difference, and I long for that shadow road.
	I have given it a great deal of thought and have concluded that I’m haunted by what could have been because it might be possible to alter the existence I find myself imprisoned within. I have spent this life working to that end. I’ve tried to take every precaution that I could, but sometimes things get muddled in my mind. I believe that it is you who must put all our lives back the way they were.
	I write this in the hope that it will eventually catch up to the era you are in. It is a slim chance, but I must take it. Somehow you must figure out a way to return to me.
	Show this to Torch. He may be able to understand it easier than you as it is wrapped deeply in magic. I hope that he and Tilly are still with you, they never returned to me.
	Only now at a time near my own death have I had total recall. Ironic, isn’t it? I finally understand and it’s almost too late for me to recapture it. Almost I said. I shall never give up all hope.
	In truth, Phillip, it all depends on you. Scary I know but true. Unless you figure out a way to return to your rightful time, then I will be doomed to walk the shadow existence forever.
	Return to our time, the exact moment for which you left, and I believe that all will become as it should have been. I have to believe, it’s all I have.
	Your faithful kin, Michall...’

	Phillip sat in silence, staring dumbly at the skin laying limply upon the table. He felt lost within troubling emotions, lost in his own hopelessness.
	“So who is this Torch, and how is he suppose to help get ya home? We have got’ta set that poor man’s life back in order!...”

	...He laid the quill down gently on the desk, taking great care to point the tip away from the parchment. Reaching out with a shaky hand, he drew the sand pot near. All that was left was to dust it and trust in his son to send it on its way. His work was done.
	He rose with a heavy sigh and walked toward his bed. Passing a wall-mounted mirror, he glanced at the reflection that haunted the glass. The image startled him, reminding him of his desperation.
	He didn’t remember growing old, or why, or when the sadness became permanently etched into his features...but it had happened all the same.
	Behind the old man in the mirror was another reflection, that of a young prince standing beside a golden-haired princess. “But where has she gone?” his feeble mind asked. “Where is my Ra-May?”
	“I am doomed unless my message reaches its intended, unless...”

	“...Everything, all Michall’s dreams, all our friend’s dreams hinged on that one chance.” 
	“Unless,” whispered the ancient voice. “Unless...”

Chapter Twenty-seven
Under Protest, Dear Corty, Under Protest

	“...Phillip had been relieved that Corty hadn’t taken him for a lunatic and then gone and summoned her ‘police’,” laughed the Storyteller. “Why, she’d even insisted that he stay with her...

	...Corty showed Phillip to a room in the far end of the house, “Ya be safe enough with me,” she stated with a wink.
	He smiled at that wink. In the short time he’d known the old woman, he’d grown extremely fond of her, and in that same short time span he’d discovered how quickly he could learn to appreciate and accept the wonders of her world.
	He was told the captured sun was called ‘electricity’, and the tubes had been named ‘light bulbs’. In every room of the house he was able to spot one or more of these ‘light bulbs’. Corty had shown him the operation of them, and he’d laughed with delight at the strange and wondrous magic -- a magic that he could perform.
	Standing beside the door, he began flicking the light switch with eyes wide and nearly as bright as the captured sun.
	“Fool human, release that contraption and sit down!” Torch screeched.
	Phillip’s chagrined features met his as he answered, “So sorry, dear fellow. I just can’t seem to help myself. I will try to refrain, though.”
	With an impish grin, he reached over and flicked the switch up and down rapidly. Chuckling, he watched Torch soar high toward the ceiling. Then behaving as if he had some semblance of common sense, relented. “There, no more. I promise.”
	Moving toward the center of the room, he began to undress, wanting nothing more than to lie down upon a soft bed. He eased his tall frame down upon the covers with a moan.
	Torch fluttered about the room muttering something about bad omens while Tilly had quietly lain down on Phillip’s pillow and fallen soundly asleep.
	Phillip gazed upon her still form, silently admitting that she really was a rare beauty. Of Torch...he’d decided to ignore him. Let him become civil again, and then they would talk.
	He chuckled at the strange notion, ‘Just when had he ever thought Torch was civil?’ 
	His laughter instantly drew Torch, his tiny form fluttering indignantly in front of his face. Phillip sighed, seeing his chance for rest fleeing. “What do you think, my fine little flutterbug?”
	“Hum,” Torch replied. “I do not like this place nor do I see any purpose to have been pulled here.”
	Phillip nodded for him to continue.
	“If I could find a logical reason why the magic brought us here -- here to this future existence, then I might be able to understand. Then I could reason a way to send us back. Without purpose, I fear no door will open to us. If there were reason, then one would remain open, waiting thus until we completed what we were sent here to do.”
	“Well, I understand that we’re lost and that I’m determined to return to my own time. I really must return you know, I have many an admirer who will be very disappointed if I don’t,” he sighed.
	“You are a strange, silly human,” Torch spat. “Do you care for nothing except yourself? What of Ra-Nu, El-Cha, Ra-May, and Michall? They will surely fail if we do not return. How can you be so self-centered?”
	Phillip’s head swung around, his anger apparent, his reply immediate, “Torch, you have a great deal to learn when it comes to dealing with me. I care! Oh, I care. I’m afraid, I’m alone, and I’m lost. Yet Michall remains foremost in my mind. Yes, Michall and then the others.”
	“I will never state my position so plainly, again. Nor will I deem it fit to defend myself here after. Know this...I’ll move the very earth if I must in order to get home. You may be assured of that. I’ll not let him down again.”
	Completely dismissing Torch, he yawned and rolled over on his side. “Until first cycle, my fine little firefly, I bid you sleep well.”
	Long after Phillip had fallen asleep, Torch remained afloat, trying in vain to puzzle out the magic. The human’s passion deserved his best efforts.
	He knew the magic worked in some strange unexplained way, but the reason eluded him. There must be something here they would need once they returned. But what?
	His wings beat a rhythm as he paced through the air, flowing steadily back and forth across the room. He knew that the answer was probably right under their noses, but until he understood it, he would not see it.
	Wearily, he gave in to his body’s cry for rest, resolving to puzzle it out in the warm light of first cycle.
	Finding a soft chair, he curled up upon its cushions and eventually found sleep.
	Dawn came quickly, too quickly it seemed for the weary time travelers. Sun streamed in through the windows, stretching its lazy rays outward across the room. The yawning light grew and quickly intensified, forcing its way into even the best of defenses. Darkness reluctantly gave way to its arrogance and retreated back into the recesses of the shadow world.
	The noise of the town awakening was enough to make them want to cover their ears. Voices rising with the sun rudely erupted through the thin glass to invade their sanctuary, barking hounds chasing screeching cats, horns blaring and other sounds unfamiliar echoed in to them.
	Phillip reached above him and pulled the lace curtains away from the tiny window and scowled. Clouds were busy gathering in the distance, and he knew that sometime before mid-cycle it was going to be pouring. He’d just have to enjoy the sun while he could. Darkness and gray, damp cycles depressed him.
	Groaning, he sat up and stretched. Pulling his tunic on over his head, he stretched again. He wished that he had something to wear besides his torn and wrinkled leathers. He shrugged. If and when he departed this weird world, he hoped he could find his gear.
	Tilly fluttered before him. Bending smoothly at the waist while keeping her wings in constant motion, she boldly placed a kiss upon his forehead.
	“I dare say, greetings to you, too,” he offered, watching her cheeks catch fire. “What is this? Is this meekness shining on the face of my darling temptress? I never thought I’d see the cycle.”
	Torch grumped at the two from across the room. Phillip eyed him with a twinkle in his eyes. If Michall had been around he could have warned Torch about its light. At the last moment he decided to resist the urge and tossed out a peace offering instead.
	“Now Torch,” Phillip smiled as he addressed him. “Don’t you think since we’re in this together that we might try to be at peace, at least for the time being?”
	“I think, human, that it would be a shaky peace,” Torch replied stubbornly. “Yet it seems I have little choice left me, do I?” He extended his hand, acknowledging the reluctant truce. Phillip took it.
	“Ah, this is good. Now I shan’t feel alone in this hostile environment. I shall be surrounded by friends.”
	“Tis so, Torch, you really must learn to get on with Phillip,” Tilly spoke up.
	“And why is that?” they both said in unison.
	“Tis simple. We are to life-bond as soon as the princess releases us from our enchantment. It would not do to have brothers fighting all the time.”
	Phillip mumbled something about ‘if they didn’t get back soon, there wasn’t going to be any princess to release them...or at least no Ra-May,’ but no one was listening to him.
	“Over my dead body!” Torch bellowed.
	Hearing his tone, Phillip jumped into the fray, “Torch, settle yourself. I never said any such thing! I’ll just have to tone down my charisma so that she’ll be able to think clearly once again. No harm done,” he added flippantly, trying for levity, but nervous laughter belied his outer casualness.
	“And just what is wrong with my sister?” he demanded. “Did you trifle with her affections? I swear, human, I will have your head if you did.”
	‘What an unexpected reply,’ Phillip thought. ‘These little Elves confuse me on a regular basis.’
	“Well, perhaps you will at that. But you won’t until we manage to get back home. So, if it pleases you, which it certainly will me, could you hold off my execution until we find out if we’re even going to get out of this time alive?”
	Shrugging, Phillip sank down wearily into an awaiting chair, “Besides that, dear fellow, I believe you’re going to have to wait in line if you want a turn at me. I believe there might be a few others ahead of you.”
	Torch threw back his head and laughed. “As I said, human, you are a strange one, even for a human.”
	“Yes, and I’m afraid I shall become a lot stranger if I don’t find my way home again,” he sighed.
	A timid knock broke the mood of their chamber. Phillip rose. Opening the door, he bowed. Rising up, he extended his arms out in front of him. When he pulled them back, he embraced a very flustered Corty and hastened to escort her into the room. Dressed plainly in white blouse and patterned skirt, her garments appeared too large for her small frame, their weight forcing her to bow. Like a school girl, she giggled.
	Seeming too frail to Phillip’s eye, he took her arm to lead her to a chair. Beneath his hand, her skin hung loosely from an arm where muscle had long since retired.
	“My dear, dear Lady. I do hope that you slept well.”
	“My, ya take my breath away. Ya really are quite the dandy.” She opened her mouth to continue but snapped it shut with an audible click.
	“Oh, my, my!” she whispered. Her color paled noticeably, but she managed a weak smile. “Oh, my, my.”
	“I believe, my dear, that you have already said that,” Phillip laughed as he knelt beside her chair and clasped her hand within his own. Pointing a finger to where her eyes already stared, he explained, “As I promised you last cycle, here are a few real Elves. But rest assured, they’re tiny ones, where Ra-May is similar to me in height. They’re an exception not a norm. The other Elves that use to roam your fair land were, I dare say, a tad bit larger.”
	Corty sat in her old worn chair, unable to do more than clasp her hands to her chest and stare. Tilly flew near, bowed in midair...a stunningly graceful maneuver.
	“I am called Tilly. That,” she said as she pointed toward Torch, “is an ungrateful oaf! Unfortunately, I must claim him. He is Torch, my brother.”
	“Well, my, my....how do you do!” Corty stammered.
	“I do fine,” Tilly replied with glee. Her pert nose crinkled as she looked at her brother. “And so does Torch.”
	Leaning in close, she whispered, “He does not understand how to be courtly. He is a warrior and so only understands how to shout and shoot off his large mouth.”
	Corty laughed, and in that moment a bond was formed.
	“Now, Phillip,” Corty stated, remembering her reason for coming in the first place. She studied him intensely, letting her concern become known. “I’ve been up most of the night tryin’ to figure out a way that I could help ya, all of ya, to get back home. I finally hit up on a notion that might do just that. I ain’t too sure since I ain’t magically trained, but it’s all I have to offer. I thought we might go down to the museum. There may be somethin’ there to start ya goin’ in the right direction.”
	“Museum?” Phillip asked. “Whatever it is, if it has something to do with Michall, then perhaps it is the place to start. When do we leave?”
	“Why, just as soon as we’ve had some grub. Follow me.”
	She herded them out of the room in the direction of the magical kitchen.
	“Grub?” Phillip rolled the word around his tongue with great distaste. “Torch, I truly don’t believe that I’m so hungry that I have to eat a worm just now. You may have mine if you wish.”
	Torch scowled, the lines formed deeply etched his face as he replied, “I do not find worms to my liking either, human! Come, we must turn our thoughts toward home. We must come up with an answer to our problem. I fear time is not on our side. Food is the least of our worries!”
	Phillip shrugged and followed him out of the room. “Worms! I hope I never see the cycle.”
	After consuming a surprisingly wonderful array of ‘grub’, finely chopped, fried potatoes containing even smaller bits of onions, tender, juicy ham, mountains of scrambled eggs, and light, airy biscuits topped with generous scoops of honey, Corty announced that they had best be off.
	“Yes,” Phillip agreed as he reached for another biscuit, “This museum, exactly what is it?”
	“It’s a place where all the things from the past are stored. It’s filled with relics. There are books, clothes, weapons, town maps, and assorted historical items. Oh so many things. Too many to describe.”
	“Will we be allowed to touch these things?” Phillip asked hopefully.
	“Yeah, I think ya’ll be able to do pretty much as ya like. I don’t see anyone stoppin’ ya.”
	“I find that hard to believe. If this place is filled with all the valuables that you say, then there are surely warriors assigned to keep them safe.”
	“Warriors? Oh, oh, I see. Ya, there’s Watchmen there, but they won’t pay us no mind,” Corty said assuredly.
	“My Lady, are you holding out on us? You do, indeed, possess magic if we’re able to do all that without someone halting us.”
	“Nope...no magic. I have somethin’ even better. I have the key!” she announced triumphantly.
	“A key? If you possess this key then you can just enter and do as you like?”
	“Phillip, I do find ya charmin’,” Corty said, shaking her head, “but, I also find ya a little dense at times.”
	He tried valiantly not to show his chagrined feelings, but his eyes betrayed him. He fought against his wounded emotions and tried to bury his confusion. But it was a useless struggle, doomed from the start to failure.
	She patted his shoulder gently and apologized for her remark. “It’s not yar’n fault. I should’ve realized that ya couldn’t understand this. I have a key, and we can do whatever we like in there only because I own the place. They wouldn’t dare challenge me.”
	“Ah,” Phillip nodded. Grinning, he added, “Do forgive my fogginess. I throw myself upon your mercy.”
	“That’s it then. Let me just pick up here, and then we’ll be off.”
	“No, let us do the dirty work. We’ve been nothing but useless guests while you, charming lady, have been the perfect host. As reward, you sit, and we shall service you.”
	“Well, my, my!”
	After a few false starts, Phillip, Tilly, and even Torch, managed to outsmart the modern plumbing and make short work of the cleaning.
	Corty giggled, ‘I ain’t had this much fun in ages.’
	‘It really would have been easier if they’d used the dishwasher,’ she thought, but watching them, she decided not to mention it.
	‘I am goin’ to help them, but not before they finish the dishes.’
	She leaned back in her chair and sipped her tea.
	Managing to finish the cleanup duty and toweling themselves dry, they announced that they were ready. Phillip remained in high spirits, his actions rushed and impatient to be off.
	As they were heading out the door, Torch flew past Phillip and snickered, “Worms!”
	“How was I to know? Torch, you’re a devil,” Phillip laughed. Shaking his head, he shouted after Torch, “Well, I really did think she meant worms.”
	Once Corty had gathered them all outside her shop, she raised her hand and began to wave frantically in the crisp early air. Phillip eyed her skeptically.
	Noting that the roadway was littered with the brightly colored beast carriages, he shuttered. He was finding them the hardest things to accept in this strange world. It seemed most unnatural to crawl into the belly of one of those things just to avoid a walk.
	To his astonishment, one of them pulled up to where they stood. He jumped back a few steps before he could control his nerves, appalled that he had let it control him but was even more appalled when Corty began to climb into it.
	“Hold, dear Lady!” he yelled. “Surely you don’t mean to allow this beast to carry us?”
	Corty sighted down at her arm where he pulled protectively upon it and tried to gently pry his fingers away. When that failed, she snapped, “Oh, come on, young’en, this taxi charges by the minute. It’s the fastest way to get there, and my old legs ain’t up to the walk.”
	Phillip peered nervously into its interior and cringed. He would do it if he had to, and it seemed that he must.
	“Under protest, dear Corty, under protest,” then climbed stiffly into the belly of the beast.
	Once the doors shut and they were flying along, Phillip began to relax and take considerable interest.
	‘This beast is fast,’ he mused. ‘And the benches -- soft and comfortable. Yes,’ he decided, ‘I could learn to enjoy this.’
	Smiling, his eyes moist, telling of his silent excitement, he watched the scenery streak past, becoming nothing more than a blur. Hearing Corty’s laugh, he turned, forcing his attention to focus on her. “I must apologize, my Lady, for my earlier trepidation. We don’t have things such as these from whence I hail.”
	“Ha, I would be surprised if ya did. How do ya like it?”
	“It’s rather marvelous. Why if I had one of these, I would never ride a horse again. I swear I wouldn’t!”
	Her only reply was a pat to his hand accompanied by amused laughter.
	In no time Corty had them within the massive building she’d named ‘museum’.
	Phillip twirled in slow, measured circles, his head propped back and looking upward to the high ceiling that loomed above him. “This ‘museum’ is even greater than the palace in Doran. I’ve never been within such a structure.”
	The soft leather of his boot soles glided smoothly across the polished floor while his own reflection winked up at him from the near mirror surface.
	There were smooth, seamless walls looming all about, silently holding up the great structure with raw, unchallenged strength. Every massive inch of space available was either covered with pictures and trophies or lined with standing cabinets of glass, reminding Phillip of giant sentinels defending their fortress, guarding all the other smaller treasures.
	Corty shook him from his childlike wonder and gently tugged on his arm. He looked down at her, still wearing a foolish grin.
	“It’s more than I expected,” he stated sheepishly.
	“Yeah, it’s my little pride and joy. Everythin’ in here is a treasure, at least to me. There’s a lot of passin’ contained within these old walls.”
	“So a ‘museum’ is a history vault?”
	“Yeah, somethin’ like that...cherished memories...a small piece of history. Heck, there’s a lot of stuff in here that I don’t even understand...but it’s here anyway.”
	She spread her arms out wide, indicating all the glory spread out before her. Reaching over to a table placed neatly along the wall, she snatched up quite a few leaflets as she talked, handing them to Phillip as they moved further into the hall. He raised his brow slightly.
	Corty shrugged, “Just junk really. Maps and stuff about Sol. Old and new. Go on and take ’em. Call ‘em souvenirs.”
	He nodded and tucked them into his tunic, soon to be completely forgotten.
	“Come on young’en. A whole buildin’ stands before ya, ready to take ya back in time.”
	“Back through time,” Phillip whispered. “Yes, Lady Corty, perhaps you’re right. A ‘Hall of Time’, a doorway to the past! It certainly sounds appropriate, doesn’t it?”
	Her head bobbed in agreement while dragging him down the hall.
	Perched upon Phillip’s shoulders once again, Torch whistled, “Perchance for once you may be correct, human. A ‘Hall of Time’ this may be, but I fear it may not be as easy as you think. We are going to have to learn much from this place about the place we came from...before we will learn how we are to return.”
	“Agreed, my little flutterbug.” Phillip winked at Tilly before asking, “Any suggestions as to how we begin?”
	“Yeah,” Corty chimed in as they strolled along. “I think the complete tour is in order. We should start here at the newest exhibits and then meander backwards through time to the very oldest artifacts I have. It would be sort’a like really travelin’ backwards in time.”
	“Please, lead us, my dear Lady. We are yours to command.”
	“Oh, I really will miss ya when ya go home. Ya make me feel so wonderful.” Corty’s grainy laughter echoed loudly into the huge hall, her tiny steps resounding on the smooth floors.
	Much later he was sorry he’d agreed so good-naturedly. The place was literally packed. Or at least full of her history. So far everything he’d seen contained strange things that would exist well beyond his puny future. He began to fear that they’d never come to a section that contained something from his time. The thought was a little unnerving.
	As they’d viewed wall after wall of portraits, all descendants of Michall, he found himself searching each face, trying to find some family resemblance but could not.
	Corty rambled on about so-in-so this one or that one. They didn’t mean anything to him. He shivered involuntarily while she told him that after Michall had passed on, his teachings slowly started to break down.
	The prince had worked his whole life to instill good, honest integrity into his children but in the end had lost the battle. Phillip thought that, perhaps, Marthee might have been working just as hard in the opposite direction. Knowing her, he thought his assumption was most likely correct.
	The breakdown of principles shattered and then reshaped to eventually churn out ruthless generations of Michalls which had become the family surname.
	They learned from their own parents how to prey upon others weaker than they and in doing so amassed a fortune. Each proceeding generation took up the cause and parlayed the already steep family fortune into unimaginable sums. In the end they’d turned into their own version of the mean Overlord. How ironic that the man who saved Sol also doomed it.
	‘Oh,’ Phillip thought. ‘Michall would just cringe!’
	Phillip reflected on the various paths of the original 10 children, and their offspring and so on. In every case the nine younger siblings and their descendants chose the greedy, ruthless path while children and children’s children, branching out from Michall’s firstborn, managed to remain on the straight and narrow. Now that was something to think about.
	“Corty, I hate to say it, but I must. All these relatives in your family seem to be rather on the shady side. How did your branch manage to survive the others?”
	“Yeah,” she nodded. “First let me say I ain’t too proud of most of my kin, but they’re here because they are kin. I guess ya can say my blood is just as thin as the others.”
	“Never, dear Lady, never.”
	“Oh, how ya do go on. I was lucky I guess cause my ancestors were smart. They saw the greed poisonin’ the tree and severed the roots so to speak, replanting their immediate family roots, keepin’ them shielded from the parent tree. Michall’s firstborn taught his children the meanin’ of honor and made each in turn vow to do the same. Oh, he wasn’t a stupid, self-sacrificin’ man though. He made sure that his bloodline would have their cut of the pie, too.”
	“Now I’m all that’s left of a once proud family. What loot there is I’m spendin’ or spent on this monster yar’n standin’ in. And that makes me rich in happiness.”
	‘Interesting,’ he thought. ‘The firstborn was different. He refused to be tarnished as the rest so obviously were. Just as Corty hasn’t been.’
	He tucked her frail hand into the bend of his arm as he replied, “I’d say that you are indeed a rich person.”
	Onward down the halls they trudged, hearing about yet another somebody who had come from someone who had been related to someone else. It never ceased.
	“A pox upon them all,” Phillip mumbled, “for putting me through this boring rendition of bloodline fertility.”
	His attention wandered from the tour, and his thoughts centered more and more on the firstborn of his kin.
	“Phillip?”
	Startled, he quickly pulled his thoughts back to his immediate surroundings.
	“We’ve come to the area I think ya’ll find most interestin’...Prince Michall’s history,” she announced.
	Phillip’s interest perked as well as his dread. He ambled around the room, viewing the painted portraits of his kin in various stages of his life, pausing in front of each. Here hung one of Michall as a very old man, the likeness lost if one didn’t take note of the eyes. Those orbs staring accusingly out at him were Michall’s. Next to it was a younger version but still old compared to the Michall he’d last known. There were pictures of him with beards, mustaches, baby-faced bald and combinations of facial hair.
	As he moved down through the gallery he noted that each painting grew younger until he came to one that was even younger looking than what he knew Michall to be when he’d arrived here.
	“This is very odd, Corty.”
	“What is odd, human?” Torch asked.
	“Why, look at this portrait. I’d swear that this was painted when he could have been no more than 16 yet I’ve never seen it. I’d think I would remember it. He hated to sit still for these things so I always hung around to keep him company.”
	“Tis so,” Tilly agreed. “It is a version of the prince that is much younger than when Torch and I met him.”
	“Now, here. Look at this one. This one looks to be about the age of 21. This is how he looked when we last saw him. But here he sports a full-fledged beard. He didn’t have a beard a few cycles ago, just that awful stubble. Besides that, he hated them. So why would he have suddenly grown one?”
	Tilly shook her head, not understanding it anymore than he.
	Corty chimed in then. “That there picture is how he looked when he arrived here. Tell me the truth, was he really that handsome or did the artist embellish it?”
	“Michall was, excuse me, is a handsome man. Why, all the ladies at Court are always trying to catch his eye. Though not all wanted him for his looks...you know...the dark, silent type...no, there were quite a few who wanted him for his name alone. He could have spouted warts and they wouldn’t have cared, just so long as he gave them a title.”
	Memories came flooding back. With great effort, Phillip cleared his throat and continued, “But he never wore a beard, he despised them. And look at all these pictures. He’s smiling like an ass! He never posed happily for one of these things, and quite honestly, he really was a silent, brooding type.”
	“Please, don’t take me wrong. I love him dearly, but up until we started our little journey, I’d say that he rarely deemed it necessary to go around smiling like an idiot. When he did smile, it was secretive, never this glorious, full-tilted beam, and he almost never allowed anyone to know his true feelings. He was rather selective with them.”
	“Then why do all these pictures show him so happy?” Corty asked, not in challenge but in puzzlement.
	“Probably because he wasn’t!” Phillip guessed. “If he married Marthee, then I rather think he was miserable. She was most likely responsible for all these smiling idiots!” he finished with an exaggerated flourish of his arms.
	A new thought crowded into his already burdened mind. “My Lady, where is Marthee’s portraits. I’d love to see how she survived the phasings.”
	“That way,” Corty indicated pointing toward the far wing. “There.”
	He crossed the room and entered the wing which housed ‘dear’ Marthee’s likenesses. He studied them carefully as he walked down the lines, his smile cynical at best.
	“Yes, that’s Marthee in all her glory, right down to her vain little pinky,” he confirmed with a smirk, “You know, I’d really like to know how she managed to sink her claws into Michall.”
	“Human, if all goes well, we will not have to concern ourselves with it.” Torch stated. “When next this time repeats, it will be another’s likeness gracing these halls!” he said as he fluttered away, giving the impression of storming off, stomping his feet as he went while in flight.
	“Yes, you’re right my little Elfen friend. It’s time we worked toward that end. Shall we spread out and see if we might find some clue that will help us return?”
	The rest nodded and began to roam the room.
	“After all my friends,” Phillip said to his scattering crew, “if Michall knew that we’d be here in this era, it only follows that he would leave us something to get us back again. I’m sure he would!”
	He stared into the eyes of one of the paintings. Those orbs judged him, accused him, and frightened him. Silently, he pledged, ‘Have no fear, Michall. I won’t doom you to a life with Marthee. I’ll be home soon...’

	“...Brave words spoken by someone who was secretly scared half to death,” spoke the Storyteller in a hushed tone. “Ah, but what else could he do? He knew that if he didn’t return his beloved kin would be forced down an unwanted path. And Ra-May...well, he really didn’t want to dwell on that...no indeed. He just wanted to go home...”

Chapter Twenty-eight
Through the Halls of Time

	Phillip moved aimlessly about the chamber, his actions aped by the Fire Elves. What they hunted -- was vague and uncertain, but they hoped that when searching eyes rested upon it, its import would be recognized.
	Corty had left them on their own, promising to return soon.
	As promised, she returned carrying a large basket filled with delicacies. From out of a hamper came thick, hearty sandwiches, something quite delicious called chips, and a wonderful fizzy drink named ‘soda’. They sat on the floor and began to demolish the unusual meal.
	“So,” Phillip asked between bites, “how did you acquire all this?” With eyebrows raised, his eyes encompassed their surroundings.
	“Ah, this here great masterpiece,” she said fondly. “It was somethin’ that I wanted to create. Ya see, the family had this stuff stored away. Seems like there was always a pack rat in the family at one time or another who could never throw anythin’ away. My family because of memories, my cousins for their greed.”
	She shrugged as if to say, ‘What was one to do?’ and continued. “After Papa died, I had to go through all the stuff and put order to it. It’s kind’a funny but all the family, the greedy ones and those who weren’t, packed their stuff in family owned storage. This here buildin’ use to be nothin’ more than a gigantic shed.”
	She paused to take a sip of soda, not remembering when she’d been allowed to talk so much. She found it rather pleasant, but her voice wasn’t use to it.
	“Anyway, after Papa died I came out here and started tryin’ to sort everythin’. I was gonna sell some of it off and then sell the entire buildin’ if I could. But once I started diggin’ back through it I realized I couldn’t. I never knew there was so much interestin’ junk.”
	“That’s when I hit up on the notion of fashionin’ a museum to house it all in...lettin’ the folks who lived here remember the history too. After all, my family had liberated them.”
	“It wasn’t until you started sorting all these family treasures that you became interested in your past?” Phillip questioned before taking another large bite from his sandwich.
	“Let’s just say it sort’a helped to fan the flame. I’d grown up with the history. Papa was always tellin’ old stories. It was one of his ways of keepin’ us proud and honest. He wanted us to know that we’d sprung from rich roots. Ha!”
	“Anyway, I knew what was inside storage, but it wasn’t until I had it all organized, lined up by the generations, that I understood. The past leapt off the walls and surrounded me. It’s a feelin’ hard to explain, but it was strong. Now...I’m hooked.”
	“I find it incomprehensible to imagine that your family ignored these treasures. Why, there are things in here that appear priceless in the extreme.” Phillip stated in shock. “If it were I possessing such wonders, I certainly would try to hold on to them.”
	“Maybe ya would. But what about the kin who came after ya? Times have changed since yar’n time, and not everyone wants old things clutterin’ up their homes. As each new turn arrived so did newer and better things to acquire, and so the old things were put in storage. They were too good to throw away but not good enough to keep ya understand. After awhile they were forgotten. Along comes the next era, more stuff gets added. Pretty soon there’s a great big pile of junk. Ya go down intendin’ to clean it out, see the size and say, ‘Well, maybe later’ and that’s how it piles up.”
	“Yes, I begin to see your point.”
	Torch, having finally eaten himself full, fluttered over in front of Corty’s face and bowed. “I thank you for the meal, my Lady, and I thank you for your aid.”
	“Ain’t ya just as bad as Phillip with yar’n fancy tongue,” she laughed, the sound warm and pleasant upon the ear.
	“How much more must be searched before we have completed our tour?” Tilly implored.
	“Oh, well,” Corty immediately provided, “this here room is the last of the main areas. There’s just one more branch, and then we’ll be done.”
	“A branch area, did you say? Now what great treasures have you hidden away in there, my Lady?” Phillip piped up with interest.
	Although he enjoyed Corty’s company, all he could think of was going home. He wanted to create his own memories, have the fun of the creation, and glory in the results. He didn’t want to have to survive on someone else’s memories.
	‘Damn,’ he mused. ‘I’ve certainly become melancholic of late.’
	“I was kind’a hopin’ we wouldn’t have to go on to the last room. It’s really a sad place to me. Even more so now that I understand just a little more about the man. But...if ya can’t find anythin’ of help in here then I guess we’ll have to.”
	With Phillip’s help, Corty pulled herself up from the floor. She smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt before tidying up the lunch mess. Tucking a stray, silvery lock of hair back behind her ear, she watched quietly as the others resumed searching the room.
	Phillip spoke out into what had become a stifling silence, “Lady Corty, which one of these,” he said as he waggled his finger at the picture in front of him, “was the last one painted?”
	His pose remained relaxed with his arms crossed over his chest awaiting her reply.
	“Well, I believe that yar’n lookin’ at the last one. Nope, I’m wrong. The very last one isn’t in here. It’s in the branch room,” she stated as if she still wasn’t sure herself. “Yeah, that’s where I decided it should hang. Why?”
	“Do you see his eyes?” he pointed, easily directing their attention. “In all of these they seem to be hiding something. That smile! It’s like he’s laughing at everyone, thinking them all fools. I don’t know. It’s just something I fancy, nothing more.”
	“Well, then, do ya think there’s anythin’ in here that’ll help ya?” Corty asked in earnest. “If not, maybe we’d best head on down to the last chamber.”
	They nodded, motioning her to lead on. They followed her down a small hallway and around a sharp bend to come to rest before two massive wooden doors. On the handles, which were as large as pillar stones, was a carving of a seal similar to the Royal Seal of Doran and another Phillip couldn’t identify.
	“You said that Michall ruled Sol after he arrived here, didn’t you?” Phillip asked.
	She nodded, “He never left here.”
	“Then why this close copy of the Seal of Doran? Renne was the acknowledged heir to Doran’s throne,” Phillip stated in genuine puzzlement. “And what does this other seal represent?”
	“I had those carved on the handles,” Corty supplied. “The other one is Sol’s seal. The first one was copied from the shield that Michall carried into battle. I didn’t realize it was Doran’s emblem.”
	“Michall’s shield?” Phillip stated more to himself than to the others. “This grows stranger and stranger by the moment. It’s as if history is continuing to rewrite itself even now while we stand here.”
	Torch flew up and nodded, “This is true. The past grows unstable, changing even as we speak. The longer we remain here, the more it will change. This is how magic works.”
	“Oh dear,” Corty murmured. “Then I guess we’d best hurry.”
	“This shield, do you still possess it?” Phillip asked eagerly.
	“Yeah, it’s in that chamber...behind those doors...if ya care to look.”
	“What exactly is hidden behind those doors?” Phillip asked nervously, not liking the tone Corty used when she spoke of it.
	“This here chamber is the final restin’ place of Prince Michall and his wife, Marthee.”
	Phillip paled visibly. She didn’t notice as she began to push the doors open.
	“The sepulcher use to sit outdoors. I had it enclosed many phasin’s back. It seemed only fittin’. When Michall lived, this here land was all Royal property with the estate house sittin’ far off on a hill overlookin’ the sea. The house is gone now like so many other things...but the vaults remain.”
	She leaned heavily on the door, “I came out here and saw the condition of them and just cried rivers. The weather and salty sea air was workin’ on destroyin’ all the beautiful carvin’s that decorated the tombs’. I couldn’t let that happen so I had them enclosed. I called in workers and had them redo the stone. I created a memorial to him and preserved his body here. Kind’a like them desert folks use to do.”
	“Phillip, what is wrong?” Tilly screeched.
	Gone pale, Phillip struggled to stay afoot. “I fear I really do not wish to enter that room. I fear that I might not be able to. It’s as if I understood that he was gone but not really dead! No, I’m not sure I’m strong enough to go further.”
	“Come, human, this is no time to get squeamish. There is nothing in the shadows to harm you. The answers that we seek may be hidden within. Pull yourself together so that we may continue. Our time is running out!” Torch snapped.
	“Very easy for you to say. If I remember correctly, your kind don’t seem to die. There are spirits in places like this and other things...”  his timid whisper hung limply in the still air as he peered into the gloom of the chamber.
	“I can die, human, as I will soon if we are not returned to a time that believes in my kind.”
	“Just what do you mean by that?” Phillip nearly screeched.
	“Human, I can feel my power ebbing, my strength fading. Tilly is the same. We cannot survive in a world that no longer tolerates magic. We will soon fade away if we do not find a passageway back.”
	Phillip’s eyes traveled quickly over to where Tilly hovered in the air, at last noticing her shadowy, sunken eyes and ashen complexion.
	“Come, Tilly, ride upon my shoulder,” Phillip invited.
	She gifted him with a timid smile as she landed softly upon his shoulders. Wrapping her hands in his hair, she leaned lightly against his cheek.
	“Thank you, Phillip,” she purred.
	With new purpose, he directed Corty to stand aside. Straightening his backbone, he moved quickly into the room. ‘He would do it. He had too, for all their sakes.’
	He stood within the dark room and felt the hair on his neck rise. He forced himself to move further into the gloom, mumbling to himself all the while.
	Tilly let her inner fire glow around her in an attempt to chase away some of the murk. Torch did the same. Phillip wished they would stop wasting their energy.
	Suddenly without warning, light flooded the room. Phillip jumped, nearly dislodging Tilly.
	“Nothin’ to get alarmed about, young’en. Just the overhead lights is all,” Corty said with a chuckle. “I reck’on ya forgot about those light bulbs I showed ya earlier, huh? I usually don’t keep the bulbs burnin’ in here like I do them ones in the main area. This chamber is sort’a a ‘View by appointment only,’ place.”
	“Yes,” Phillip stammered. “You’re quite right. I had forgotten them. They truly are a wondrous invention.” ‘Especially now,’ he thought.
	Two things made him ‘really’ afraid, spirits and death. He never entered a graveyard, and he never, ever tried to communicate to those who’d passed on. Well, he really wasn’t afraid of death in itself, just the spirits who didn’t have the decency to stay dead!
	He heard Torch bellow from across the room causing him to jump yet again. “They really are going to make me go through with this,” he mumbled.
	“All right, I’m here,” he stated, glad that his tone sounded as if he held a small measure of sanity. “Now, what’s so important that it requires you to shout so at me?”
	“Look at this portrait, human. What do you notice?”
	Phillip stepped up and studied Michall in yet another pose, but this one was different. The eyes were right, and there wasn’t a smile, and...yes...there was something in his hand...something he recognized.
	He swung around to Torch, fear forgotten for the moment. “He’s holding a shield with Ra-May’s Circlet engraved over the Seal of Doran. It’s the Circlet that we must locate, isn’t it?”
	Torch nodded, “It would seem so, human.”
	He flew deeper into the chamber as Phillip looked again at the picture. “What are you trying to tell me, old boy? What is it?”
	“The shield is mounted over there,” Corty volunteered.
	Before Phillip could puzzle out his own questions, Torch’s voice rang out, “Here, human...to me!”
	Phillip walked toward the sound of his shout and froze. Torch was hovering over a rather large stone that could only contain one thing. His feet kept moving even as his mind screamed for him to stop.
	The shield was mounted on a wall in front of the stone. It winked at him as he neared. Although tarnished, he could still make out the faint image of the Circlet etched into its center, laying atop the easily recognized Seal of Doran, around the Circlet in a circular pattern ran strange writings of a language he did not know.
	“Look here, human. See these markings? They are Elf.”
	“Elfen?” Corty asked. “Well, no wonder none of the experts could tell me what it said. I’ll be...Elfen.”
	Phillip looked away from the shield and down at the rather large stone crypt, seeing words that he could understand.
	As he feared, this was Michall’s tomb. ‘Well, old boy, I hope you don’t bear me any true malice. Just stay down there where good spirits ought, please,’ he thought. ‘This really is no time for you to think about having the last laugh!’
	Phillip slowly took his eyes from the stone and asked, “What does the shield say?”
	“It says that we must embrace the light to go home.”
	“It really says that?” Phillip asked. “It mentions us by name?”
	“Aye, it does,” said Torch.
	“Well...,” he said, all that would pass his lips at first. Then he blurted, “What light?”
	“I do not know. I thought that you would. He is your kin,” said Torch.
	“Well, that was a big help. Thank you very much, Michall. I always suspected you secretly loathed me!” Phillip snapped.
	‘I’m losing it. I have to get out of here,’ he thought as he wiped a shaky hand through his hair. Phillip looked to Corty who only shook her head.
	“I think he refers to the Circlet still. It holds a Crystal shard mounted in its center...a symbol of the Light that is our faith. Tis so, the Crystal is very powerful, Phillip,” said Tilly.
	“I believe you’re right my little flutterbug. I could kiss you!”
	She puckered her lips, and he laughed, kissing his finger, he lightly brushed her lips. “Clever girl, thank you.”
	She sighed.
	“That is all well and fine, but we still do not know where the Circlet is!” Torch growled.
	“Lady Corty, are there any hidden niches in these walls or tunnels that travel beneath the tombs?”
	“Nope, sorry. This is a new buildin’ as I stated earlier,” she said softly as she glanced around the room. “Only tunnels I know about lie under the beaches east of town, none here.”
	Phillip examined the tomb again. Rolling up his tunic sleeves, he stated, “I guess there is but one thing to do.”
	They looked at him as if he’d lost his mind, and he wondered the same.
	“Sorry, old boy,” Phillip spoke, his voice twinged with regret. “I really don’t like doing this sort of thing as well you know. Knowing you, you did this to me on purpose.”
	Carefully, he began to run his hands along the surface of the stone while the others, standing with their mouths agape, watched a madman at work.
	Looking up, he petitioned, “Well, don’t just stand there gaping, come over here and help me search. Feel the stone to see if you can detect any little buttons or depressions.”
	“What?” they squealed in unison.
	“Oh, please! I haven’t lost my mind, at least not yet. Before I was born, Royal vaults were built with hidden compartments so that the King or Queen could take treasured possessions with them when they passed. It was mainly used for spite by some who just didn’t want another possessing their treasures. Although I’d never enter the grounds when we were young, Michall use to go and tell me about all the precious jewels and oddities that others had tried to take with them.”
	“Really,” Corty squealed excitedly. “Ya mean there could be somethin’ buried in there that no one has seen in hundreds of phasings. Oh, move aside, let me at it.”
	“Calm yourself, my Lady. All I really hope to find is the Circlet. I truly hope that I don’t run into anything else that will make me sorrier than I already am.”
	As Phillip ran his hands over the stone’s smooth surface, he noticed that his hand rose as he reached its center.
	“You see this rise. Its been chiseled at one time or another,” he said to his little troop. “I wonder of what?”
	“Oh, that there is what’s left of the great sword he used to carry.”
	“This is Power?” Phillip asked as his unbelieving stare searched her face.
	“Nope,” she grinned, “not the actual sword. No one’s ever found that. It was a carved image of the thing. Or at least that’s what I’ve been told. Long before I was born the wind and rain had erased it from the stone. Now it’s just that there lump.”
	“Hum, what’s this?” Phillip said mainly to himself, even though all eyes were trained on him. “Yes, here. Would someone come and help me lift this?”
	Everyone jumped to his aid. Soon they were moaning and puffing as they pushed on the stone. A grating noise mingled with their efforts as the lid sluggishly began to separate from the original tomb.
	As it slide backwards, Phillip cringed, drawing his eyes shut. Silently, he prayed, ‘Michall, please, please...I hope you really don’t harbor me ill will. I really only teased you out of love you know.’
	His nose itched, tickled by the dust, evident now everywhere in the room and by some other stranger odor. The scent reminded him of a musty, damp cellar. He could barely hold down his rising trepidation when confronted by a room grown strangely silent.
	Unable to bear it a moment longer, he snapped open his eyes and looked down into the tomb, half expecting to see Michall’s spirit rising up in a thin mist of spectral revenge. 
	Instead he saw a small package wrapped in the same animal hide as Michall’s earlier letter, nesting in the center of what looked like a small chamber. The hallowed depression was made in much the same style as the old tombs in Doran. Hand-chiseled, it was left rough to make it appear, at first glance, nothing more than a flaw in the stone, but upon closer inspection, one would see the well for its true nature. Within, treasures would be hidden away as the lid was drawn down.
	“Good,” he sighed as he reached for the bundle. “Apparently this is the separate compartment I’d hoped to find.”
	Torch and Tilly had taken to the air and were now buzzing around his head while Corty rested a hand lightly on his arm. She squeezed her fingers together, drawing his attention.
	“Go on, open it!” she prompted.
	“Yes, I should, shouldn’t I? I hope this is what we are searching for.” Inwardly his mood neared desperation while his thoughts practically begged, ‘I really don’t want to dig any further, Michall. I do hope you understand. I really don’t!’
	Unlike the letter, this animal hide hadn’t survived the elements or the phasings well. The cloth crumbled at his touch and layers of now disturbed, ageless dust, swirled up to tickle his nose.
	Everyone held their breath, their eyes riveted to the slow motion of Phillip’s hands as he unwrapped the ancient bundle. When the last of the tattered cloth fell away, they were rewarded with the Amulet of Ra-Jee, or rather, Ra-May’s Circlet.
	“Well, well, well! Will miracles never cease to amaze?” Phillip whistled. “Michall, I do believe you have everything under control here, as always.”
	Torch reached out and stroked the golden crown. “It is of the Crystal. Are we then to be saved?”
	“Yes, saved -- provided you know how to use this thing my little flutterbug. I can’t even begin to understand its power.”
	Corty looked on in silence while unasked questions leapt from her eyes.
	Phillip smiled as he wiped the rest of the dust from the Circlet. “My Lady, this is the property of the lovely young maiden I mentioned earlier. I hold the Circlet of the Princess Ra-May, Michall’s mate. Who, I believe, might have been your kin.”
	“Ah, the fairy princess ya all keep referrin’ to,” she nodded.
	“The very same. But remember, she is Elf not Fairy. I’m not sure, but I think there is a difference.”
	Torch and Tilly nodded, their faces a mask of seriousness.
	“So, if that be the light that the message on the tomb told ya to find, what are ya goin’ to do with it now?”
	Phillip shrugged, “I guess I shall have to plead with it to take us home. I really don’t have any knowledge of magic. Do any of you have a better idea?”
	Torch spoke his doubts freely, “I do not think that you, human, can make it do your bidding. I believe only a Water Elf can control the Circlet.”
	“Well then, we’re in a real predicament then, aren’t we?” he retorted sarcastically. “I’m certainly no kin to Elves, and the only ones around just happen to be the wrong kind. I seem to be fresh out of Water Elves just now. Just my luck,” his voice rose sharply, its tenor filled with the fear and of disappointment he felt.
	He threw his arms in the air in defeat and sighed heavily. He was tired. His head ached, and his heart beat rapidly with his anxiety.
	“Maybe I can do somethin’ with it,” Corty spoke up then. “Ya seem to think that this Ra-May was my kin, so if that’s true, then maybe I have a little of this here Water Elf in me.”
	He swung about, excitement chasing away the doubt that had only moments before filled his heart. His eyes filled with the delight he felt as he smiled at her.
	“What an excellent idea, my Lady. Ah, I wish I’d met you in your youth. Imagine, a woman with brains as well as looks. What a time we would have had!”
	She chuckled, smacking him good-naturedly. Reaching out, she accepted the Circlet. “Okay, what do ya think I out’ta say to this here thing?”
	“Command it to take us back to the time we left. The exact time!” Torch demanded.
	“Or, better yet,” Phillip chimed in. “Have it deliver us to the Michall of our time or at least as close to him as possible.”
	“Well, that sounds easy enough. I guess I can do that. Just talk to it, ya say? What happens to this thing when you leave?” she asked, taking her eyes from the Circlet to stare solemnly at the trio.
	“Hopefully, if we leave, we’ll find it resting upon the brow of a lovely young maiden, where it belongs.”
	“Okay then, here we go. Hang on to yar’n seats, this could be a bumpy ride.”
	“Wait,” Phillip declared.
	Stepping close, he reached out to take her frail hand and gently tuck it within his warm grasp. “Before you send us back, I want you to know that I consider you an honored friend. You were there for us in our time of need, and for that I shall never forget you, dear Lady, never. When I return, I shall make sure Michall knows about you and your strength of character. His pride shall know no limits.”
	Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss upon her smooth brow. “Thank you, my dear, dear friend.”
	“Oh, get out of here,” she laughed, her face somewhat flushed. “I could get use to yar’n fine manners and decide to keep ya instead. Go on now. I’m ready to try this thing out.”
	“Then it really is goodbye, dear Lady. I bid you farewell.”
	“Say, Phillip, if ya ever decide to time travel again, come around a little earlier. I promise I’ll be here, ready to show ya a good time.”
	“Yes, if I ever sidestep into the cosmos again, I’ll try my best to look for you. I promise. I would look forward to it.”
	“Change the future when ya get back, young’en! Be sure to order me up a man along the way,” she laughed, shooing him back in place.
	“I’ve no doubt that the next time you go round, my dear...and you will, you know...that every man in town will lay his heart at your feet. After all, you are the granddaughter of an Elfen princess.”
	His smile seemed sad as he looked upon her wrinkled face one last time. He wished her much happiness. He knew no one else who deserved it more. Filled with elation at the prospect of leaving, even while fighting off the melancholy he felt at saying farewell, he nodded for her to begin.
	“Here we go,” she said as she picked up the Circlet and turned it over in her hands. Shrugging her shoulders, she concentrated on the jewel and began to talk to it. Nothing happened. She tried again.
	Smiling shyly, she looked up, “I think its workin’, I feel somethin’ stirrin’. It must have been asleep or somethin’, but I think I’ve woke it. I’ll tell it to...”
	Before she could finish her sentence the three travelers began to fade before her eyes. The last thing she saw was Phillip bowing elegantly, and then they were gone.
	“Safe trip, young’en,” she whispered. “I wish ya luck for yar’n sake and mine.”
	She looked down to her hands and saw that the Circlet had disappeared as well.
	“Now ain’t that a hoot!”

	“...and the realities flipped once again,” he stated in a wondrous tone. “But did they flip to the one that had been or to the one that the magic wanted created? I assure you, I cannot wait to find out. What say you all, do you wish for me to continue?”
	But he didn’t wait for a reply. His voice lowered, and his eyes took on a faraway shine as he picked up the story where he had left off...

Chapter Twenty-nine

Sons

	The act of sitting up made Ra-Nu groan. The wind that had filled his conscious memory was gone. Its roar now replaced with silence, a complete nothingness that left the land veiled in the stillness.
	Scanning about, he could see nothing beyond the foggy curtain that cocooned him. His mind was an emotional battlefield, his feelings caught between understanding and fearful revolt.
	Ever the Warrior, he remained motionless and listened for any sound that might break the solitude. Refusing to panic, he withheld the call that might bring him nearer to the others or alert an enemy of his location.
	A soft moan echoed out of the fog, causing him to turn his head sharply. The fog amplified the sound, confusing his instincts. He waited for it to come again.
	Crawling upon the ground, he pushed his hands out in front of him and groped forward until he blundered upon a prone form.
	Seeing only with his touch, he quickly discerned that the form before him belonged to an unmoving El-Cha and hovered over him, feeling for injuries.
	El-Cha moaned and gradually recovered his wits. Drawing himself up into a sitting position, he alternated between smacking at Ra-Nu’s probing fingers and cradling his head in his hands.
	The sun had begun its climb, peeking above the unknown ridge that encircled them and filtered downward onto the valley floor. Its rays chased the fog back into the realms of darkness exposing the landscape that lay beneath.
	El-Cha gasped.
	“What is the matter?” Ra-Nu whispered.
	“Ra-Nu, I just cannot believe what my eyes show me. It is impossible, but we are here,” El-Cha replied.
	“Here? Here where? What has taken you over?”
	El-Cha’s eyes grew wide. “Do you not feel it? Do you not understand?”
	Ra-Nu shook his head for a reply.
	“We are here! We are home...in Ra-Jee!” he swooned, nearly shouting his joy.
	“Ra-Jee?” Ra-Nu whispered, trying to absorb the reality of his words. “How can we be home?”
	“Oh, aye, home! Look beyond that rise. There is the entrance to Ra-Jee. My home, my Ra-Jee! I do not understand how it came to pass, but we are home.”
	Not waiting for Ra-Nu, El-Cha rose and began to trot toward the entrance he knew lay just beyond this valley.
	Ra-Nu called after him. “Hold! I do not understand this at all. Ra-Jee is no more! It disappeared from the lands. We cannot just go plodding into that entrance as if it never happened! This must be a trap. There is magic all around us. We must exercise caution.”
	“Ah, I understand your concern, and of course, what you say is true. There is magic at work, but I fear it is mostly mine that you sense. Even so, my friend, you raise a valid point. It is sensible that we should act with care.”
	Ra-Nu nodded while folding his arms before him and taking a stubborn stance.
	“But it is illogical to do nothing. Come, let us at least investigate the possibility,” pleaded El-Cha.
	“You act as impulsive as Ra-May. Does magic addle your brains? I tell you that Ra-Jee is destroyed. I tell you that this is probably a trap, and you tell me we should go and investigate?” Ra-Nu shouted. “And what of our companions?”
	El-Cha lowered his head in apparent submission before leveling his determined stare on Ra-Nu. “I agree that we should look for our companions, but perhaps they are within Ra-Jee. I agree to caution, but I believe we must enter the city.”
	“I see I have yet another young buck on my hands.” Shaking his head, he sighed, “I concede, but know that I do not trust what my eyes show me and will not go into the web easily.” Shoving El-Cha aside, he headed toward the entrance.
	El-Cha ran to catch up. Breathless, he could only grin. ‘It was Ra-Jee. He knew it to be true.’
	Ra-Nu’s long strides came to an abrupt halt. He reached down to a stone laying in the path and stood thoughtfully palming the smooth, white surface. Nodding, he began to gather similar stones and placed them in a pattern on the trail. El-Cha stood by, watching in silence.
	When Ra-Nu was finished, the rocks formed a crude arrow that pointed toward the supposed entrance.
	“Ra-May will understand. She will follow, if she can.”
	The smaller Elf clapped his hands together and stated, “An excellent idea. But come,” he directed the larger Elf back on the path, “time is being wasted.”
	As they walked, Ra-Nu grumbled, “What I do not understand is if this is Ra-Jee, then how did we get here? Where are the others? And why?”
	“I believe I have caused us to be here. When I called the wind to aid us, I wished to be returned home. I was so weary and so homesick for Ra-Jee that I made it my desire. So,” he shrugged, “the magic sensed it and here we are.”
	“What of the others? Would the wind not bring them here as well?” Ra-Nu demanded.
	El-Cha sighed, suspecting Ra-Nu was not going to like his answer. “Alas, perhaps not. It would depend on their desires at the moment the wind took them. You see, you must have wished to see Ra-Jee also, that is why you are here with me. The others, quite honestly, would have their own desires. Their wishes took them elsewhere. Now they are there, wherever ‘there’ might be.”
	“What? You are telling me that my Sprite could be anywhere! This is unacceptable. I must find her!” he shouted.
	“Please, calm yourself, Ra-Nu. It will do no good to surrender to anger. All we can do is move onward and hope that the rest of our companions are near. If not, then we must rely on the magic to keep them safe.” El-Cha shrugged. “There really is nothing more that can be done. We must look for answers there,” he said, pointing toward the valley entrance.
	Ra-Nu did not like it but could do nothing. Once again he moved forward on the path. El-Cha nearly skipped along at his side.
	“Hump!” was all Ra-Nu offered as he walked forward. El-Cha wisely held his tongue.
	It was not until they climbed the rise and looked down into the Elfen valley that they broke their self-imposed silence.
	Before them stood not an abandoned valley left in ruin, lost to all except within their dreams, but a thriving realm in full bloom. The towers of the Palace winked at him, the smooth sides reflecting in the early sun. Every where his gaze fell he saw life. 
	“But how can this be?” Ra-Nu challenged.
	El-Cha spoke, but Ra-Nu did not hear him. He remained lost in the unexplainable wonder before him.
	“Ra-Nu,” El-Cha tried again, poking him on the arm to draw his attention. “This is hard to explain, but this is the Ra-Jee I left behind. This is my time, not yours.”
	“What?” Ra-Nu asked, reluctantly giving his attention to El-Cha.
	“This Ra-Jee has known no hardships. It is a valley untouched by evil,” El-Cha summarized, his tone subdued.
	“But how can that be true? My eyes tell me it cannot be the Ra-Jee that I knew, but how can it be yours?”
	“It must be the magic. I know this is my Ra-Jee or very close to the existence that was mine. I do not know how, but I am home.”
	“What are we to do now?” Ra-Nu asked as he crossed his arms stubbornly. “I possess no magic. I do not belong here! This is not my Ra-Jee!” he cried, close to panic.
	“Calm yourself. I will stay by your side. I think now that my earlier vain assumptions might have been in error, believing now that we were not brought here solely because I wished it so. There is a more powerful magic at work here than my own.”
	“For what reason we shall just have to wait and see, but while we wait, I see no reason why we should not enjoy ourselves. Come, our adventure begins.” El-Cha slapped Ra-Nu on the back and pushed him forward. “It would seem that we have no other choice but to see this through.”
	They headed down the path and into the city. El-Cha with a spring in his step, and Ra-Nu dragging his.
	“Cheer up, my friend. Perhaps there are those here that understand the magic of the Ancients. Why, these Elves may even be the Ancients.”
	“Aye, and mayhap I have died, and these ‘Ancients’ are my companions through eternity.”
	El-Cha’s rich laughter floated upon the air, easygoing and free from the worry that plagued Ra-Nu as they entered the city...

	“...No, my children, they aren’t dead, just confused. As I’ve said before,” the Storyteller sighed, “magic works in strange ways...”

	Once they were within the inner city, El-Cha took Ra-Nu’s arm and began to move him forward along cobbled streets lined by neat, flat-fronted buildings.
	This area was known as the Gate District. All who entered Ra-Jee from the valley, entered here. Further down, away from the shops and the numerous hawkers, the street came to an abrupt end, blocked by an enormous white wall. Here, traffic was forced to turn either left or right in order to continue their journey.
	There were other smaller streets that intersected and branched away from the Gate Avenue, crisscrossing back and forth around the market district, but those all lead away from El-Cha’s goal. Realizing his intent, Ra-Nu pulled back quickly. “We cannot go to the Palace! No one knows us here! They will fill us with arrows first and ask questions concerning our identity last.”
	“It will be all right. Why, just look at you. You wear the Royal insignia of the Palace guards. Where else would they expect us to go?”
	Ra-Nu looked down at his garments with a sigh. He had forgotten that he wore his Warriors’ colors. What El-Cha said was true. He allowed himself to be momentarily lead forward.
	Quite suddenly he pulled up again, causing El-Cha to lose his balance. “Now what, Ra-Nu?”
	“Even though I wear the uniform of a Warrior, it will not be enough to gain access.”
	“Oh, and why is that?” El-Cha asked innocently.
	“The guards will not know me. There will be questions that I fear I have no reasonable reply. We cannot go there!”
	“I think that we have no other choice. The Elves around us will begin to wonder why you shrug your duties and could report us. Besides that, the Crystal is at the Palace. Where the jewel resides, so might the answers that we seek. Logically, the Palace is where we should go!” El-Cha argued.
	“Somehow I fear that your logic is strangely confused, but I have little choice but to follow. Lead on.”
	Coming upon the wall, they turned left and walked along the boulevard that would take them directly to the Palace gates, the white, glistening wall a silent, mocking reminder that there was only one way in...or out. They had not taken three steps when they heard the commotion.
	Turning in unison, they saw Elves -- many Elves -- as they poured from their homes and shops to stare and point up the avenue. The air seemed charged with their excitement.
	Curiosity as always became too much for El-Cha. Approaching an older Elf standing near them, he asked, “Kind Sir?”
	The Elf turned his sparkling blue eyes in his direction.
	“What comes? What event transpires that such an interest has been achieved?”
	“The King returns,” the Elf answered, a hint of surprise tinting his voice and perhaps a note of doubt. “He has been away on a mission of great urgency.”
	“What urgency?” El-Cha continued in his usual inquisitive tones.
	The Elf did not seem to notice that Ra-Nu wore the Royal colors or perhaps he did and thought his loyalty was being tested. If Ra-Nu recalled history correctly, the Band Wars had made all edgy. Certain Bands had been tried for libelous acts against the crown during the final cycles. It had not been an easy phasing.
	Perhaps the local Elves felt the threads of unease even now in this time. Whatever the reason, the Elf seemed not to notice anything amiss. His very lack of attention made Ra-Nu nervous.
	The stranger studied them carefully before replying, “Man tried to wage a war but was driven back. The King has won and returned the harmony to our lands.”
	“The King? Please excuse my ignorance, but you see, I am new to the Valley and know little of what has been happening. May I question you further?”
	“Please do. It is not often I have the honor of such pleasant company. Still, you must have come from very far away if you have not heard of our King’s great conquest.”
	“True, I am from an isolated area far out along the borders. My Band chose their solitary lifestyle many phasings past, and there they have lived since. But I, an ungrateful son, longed for more and so came to the city,” El-Cha invented casually, his face registering the false wistfulness that his words intoned. Ra-Nu fidgeted nervously. He knew there was no such Band nor had there ever been.
	The Elf nodded. When he answered, his tone was filled with the blessings of the Crystal, whether he felt it or not. “The Royal family lives in harmony with my Band. King Ra-El has no reason to doubt our loyalties.”
	“Ra-El, did you say?” El-Cha whispered. “The King is Ra-El?”
	The stranger looked sideways at them and shrugged. “Aye, King Ra-El approaches even now, accompanied by his sons.”
	“Sons?” El-Cha whispered, turning puzzled eyes to an even more confused Ra-Nu.
	El-Cha turned and gazed up the road with his mouth hanging open and his eyes flashing with his longings.
	Ra-Nu felt his stomach lurch. Silently, he dared to question what sanity he still possessed, ‘What is happening here?’
	It did not take long for the King and his colorful party to come into view. The crowd moved along beside the entourage, tossing ribbons and flowers into the air, and giving joyish shouts, hailing their King’s return.
	El-Cha laughed, nearly bounding up and down as he saw them pull into view. His excitement matching and then surpassing the mood of the crowd.
	King Ra-El sat his mount and waved fondly to his subjects. His smile was bright and infectious, his golden mane in constant motion.
	Ra-Nu found himself responding to him.
	Behind Ra-El rode a golden-haired youth on a magnificent stallion with a lovely, Elfen maiden perched before him.
	Ra-Nu did not need anyone to tell him who they were. Within the golden youth’s arms was a very young Sar-Ion. Ra-Nu had grown up with an older version of this maiden, he knew her at first glance. And if that was Sar-Ion, then the young Elf who held her was Ar-Hur. There could be no doubt.
	From behind them rode yet another Ar-Hur. Or at least on first sight, that is what Ra-Nu thought. He shook his head, wondering why he was seeing double.
	“Most strange,” El-Cha whispered.
	Ra-Nu waited.
	Pulling Ra-Nu back, away from prying ears, El-Cha confided, “I had heard rumors when I was growing up, but I had assumed them nothing more than that. Yet my eyes tell me now, that they were true.”
	“What?” Ra-Nu demanded.
	“Ar-Hur had a twin, his name -- El-Hur. A twin who was banished,” the smaller Elf finished softly even as Ra-Nu shook his head to deny him.
	They avoided each others eyes and instead focused on the passing Elves.
	Ar-Hur was all smiles as he and his bride waved greetings to the citizens of Ra-Jee. Ra-Nu noted the opposite reaction from his twin. Where Ar-Hur seemed genuinely glad to see his subjects, the twin seemed bored by the whole ordeal.
	Ra-Nu glanced to El-Cha as the party rode by. He saw huge tears glistening on his friend’s cheeks and a wistful gleam shining in his eyes.
	El-Cha watched until they rode out of sight and then sighed as he looked up into Ra-Nu’s concerned gaze. “That Elf, my friend, was my Father. I have finally been blessed with seeing his face.”
	“This is becoming more mysterious with each passing phase,” Ra-Nu quietly shuddered.
	He was shaken from any further pondering as El-Cha grabbed his arm and began to pull him once again toward the Palace.
	“Come, my friend,” El-Cha urged. “We really must go to the Palace now. Something powerful has lead us here, something wonderful has delivered us to this moment in time, and we should not question it.”
	Ra-Nu remained silent but followed El-Cha’s lead. He understood none of this and did not think he ever would.
	They walked with the crowd right up to the Palace gates and stood long after the crowd had dispersed, watching for any signs of challenge. When none came, they decided to enter the grounds. Again no one raised challenge.
	“I think that the guards are useless and lazy in this time. They deserve to be punished.”
	El-Cha smiling, pounded Ra-Nu heavily on his back. “That is an excellent point, my friend. Let us go then and give these louts a good dressing down. How dare they act so casually about their duties.”
	Ra-Nu nodded.
	El-Cha knew that with his friend so agitated, he would react as he had been trained...like a Palace Captain. No one in their right mind would dare question their right to be there after they witnessed Ra-Nu in full fury. He laughed at how perfectly events were falling in their favor.
	The first group of guards they encountered, unfortunately, had to bear the worst of Ra-Nu’s tongue-lashings.
	El-Cha smiled secretly, imagining what these young Elves would say once Ra-Nu dismissed them. It did not take much of an imagination to envision what the Palace gossip was going to consist of in the guard barracks. He could just hear them saying, ‘Stay clear of that new Captain that Prince Ar-Hur brought back with him. That Elf is as tough and stern as they come,’...‘Better watch your step from now on, fellows, that new Captain from the Forest Band will not stand for any slacking,’...and so on...the words and warnings would flow.
	Smiling slyly, he watched the small group, their heads hung low, hurry off to properly attend to their duties. ‘This is working out better than I planned,’ he thought.
	He knew that Ra-Nu did not realize it, but the Guard had always been lazy or at least, slacking, up until Sar-Ion came to the Keep. Truthfully, once he stopped to think about it, somewhere around the grounds, Ra-Nu could run into his own kin.
	El-Cha could not be more pleased. A great opportunity had presented itself. Time was on his side, and he now had the opportunity to see faces and experience things that had been denied him before. ‘Oh, thank you, Crystal, thank you! I shall try to be worthy of this gift you have given me,’ he silently pledged.
	Ra-Nu stood near, nodding smugly, with his chest puffed out, he commented, “It is a good thing I am here. These young ones need a strong arm to guide them!”
	El-Cha managed to hide his smirk as he took Ra-Nu’s arm, pulling him away from his animated egotism and began to maneuver him forward once again, managing to work their way into the inner courtyard without anyone challenging them.
	Ra-Nu grumbled, “It is easy to see how someone could come here and threaten these Elves. They do not know us yet no one questions our reasons for being here.”
	El-Cha shrugged but remained silent. He understood why no one dared bother Ra-Nu. Word had spread before them, and no one wished to face this particular Elf.
	His goal was near, and he quickly shepherded the burly Elf forward. Ra-Nu balked, looking menacingly down at him, but El-Cha refused to relent.
	Just ahead, El-Cha saw the small group of riders dismounting, many already vanished into the Palace Keep. He tried to hurry Ra-Nu along.
	One lone Elf hesitated as the others disappeared through the doorway and swung his pale, blonde head around to face them.
	Smiling, he called out, “Come nearer, my friends, so that I might seen your faces more clearly.”
	El-Cha felt Ra-Nu pull back. He yanked harder on his arm, forcing him to step forward.
	“Aye, Water and Forest. Now I recognize your Bands,” Prince Ar-Hur laughed and extended his hand to them. “Water, I do not know you, but yet I feel I should. Now, Forest, I feel as if I have known you a long time. Strange, is it not?”
	Ra-Nu swallowed nervously and offered his own shaky hand, his knees grown weak.
	Ar-Hur studied them openly with his unnerving golden stare.
	“Well, it is of no great concern,” he stated auspiciously, “for now. It will come, in time,” and then gifted them with a wide grin.
	Puzzled stares passed between Ra-Nu and El-Cha.
	“But I am being rude, come, join me in the Hall. It is my Bonding cycle and you must come and join me in the feasting. As my guests, of course!”
	He winked at them as he hooked his arms within the bends of theirs and began to propel them toward the Great Hall. “I really must not be late.”
	Ra-Nu allowed himself to be lead forward. “This is so very strange,” he mumbled.
	“Tell me my new friends, what are your names?” Ar-Hur asked as they strolled through the marbled corridors. “I honestly feel that I should know you both, but I cannot seem to place you.”
	El-Cha opened his mouth to answer but hesitated. ‘What can I tell him?’ he wondered but was saved from a reply when a lilting, feminine voice floated down to them from above.
	“My beloved son, you are finally returned.”
	Ar-Hur and El-Cha turned their heads in unison, looking up to the balcony above.
	“Mother,” Ar-Hur laughed warmly.
	“Mother?” El-Cha repeated in a low whisper, his voice breaking apart, coming out in small croaks.
	Ar-Hur eyed the little Elf but only shrugged. ‘Time will tell,’ he thought yet again, as he turned his attention to Shar-Ree as she came running down the stairs to wrap Ar-Hur in her joyish embrace.
	El-Cha looked on, his face filled with the wistful longings of his heart.
	Ra-Nu edged closer, speaking for El-Cha’s ears alone, “You, my friend, had better rein in your emotions. She may be your mother, but she does not know it!”
	El-Cha lifted his face up with a start. Smiling weakly, he nodded. “Aye, your words speak the truth,” he admitted in a low whisper. “I will try to behave, but...it will be very hard.”
	He shrugged and then let his arms fall limply down against his sides. The sight was somewhat unnerving to the huge Warrior.
	Ra-Nu nodded, “I understand, my friend. I am here if you have need of me. Remember that.”
	El-Cha smiled, “Thank you. You are indeed a good friend.”
	Shar-Ree talked nonstop while leading them all toward the Great Hall, but her eyes were for her beloved son alone and gave the others no notice. El-Cha followed them like a lost puppy, hanging on every word she uttered, hoping she would turn and favor him with a smile.
	Ar-Hur leaned forward and whispered something in her ear. Smiling courteously, he disentangled himself from her arm and gently pushed her onward into the Hall. Then he turned his attention upon them.
	“As I stated earlier, you both shall be my guests this cycle. Come,” he motioned, “so that I may show you to a chamber where you might be allowed to freshen yourselves. Along the way, you may enlighten me.”
	He looked them over sternly, worrying Ra-Nu with the intensity, but then, quite suddenly, he winked. His expression turned mirthful with a twinkle in his golden eyes that reminded Ra-Nu of Ra-May just before she made him miserable. He did not think he understood that wink.
	El-Cha, on the other hand, understood it well.
	They climbed the stairs in silence and moved deeper into the Palace. Once they were within a chamber, the heavy door closed securely behind them, Ar-Hur turned and stated forthwith, “I know you. It has taken me a while, but I now realize where I have known you. I do not understand the full measure of it yet, and you will fill in any missing details for me in time, but I do know who you are. I will help you if I can. You have nothing to fear from me.”
	“What?” Ra-Nu stuttered.
	“The Crystal shows me things that I sometimes do not understand, and it has shown the two of you to me. I do know that I will not honestly recognize you for many phasings, but for some unclear reason I must honor the bonds we will forge in the future, now.”
	He shrugged as if saying it was all beyond his control and nothing to be done for it, then continued, “At times, it is a blessing to know the future, but most of the time it is nothing more than a curse. I state not a grievance, simply the truth. What you both will encounter later will depend greatly on what you disclose to me now.”
	Ar-Hur walked across the room and seated himself on a window bench. He crossed his arms and waited.
	Sighing, El-Cha stepped forward and extended his hand in formal introduction. “It seems that you already know me, but I shall introduce myself anyway. I am El-Cha, your soon-to-be youngest brother.”
	Ar-Hur laid a single finger along his lips and nodded.
	“And this fine Warrior, is Ra-Nu, Royal Guardian to your Great-granddaughter, the Princess Ra-May.”
	Ra-Nu bowed.
	“My Great?” Ar-Hur asked, his eyes wide. “How very interesting.” Then he asked, “Tell me, is she as lovely as her visions seem to imply?”
	“I can say truthfully that she is probably lovelier, my brother.”
	Ar-Hur stood and paced. For some time the chambers only sound was that of his boots clicking repeatedly upon the stone floors.
	Finally, he turned and asked, “What has happened that the two of you have invoked the magic? Does my granddaughter have need of my Warrior’s arm?”
	“Oh, nay, nay! I do not think so. At least, I hope not!” El-Cha replied. He shrugged before adding, “In truth, we really did not direct the magic. It is more like the magic kidnapped us!”
	He watched for a reaction from Ar-Hur but received only a raised eyebrow.
	“Really!” he proclaimed. “The magic seems to be controlling us, not we it!”
	“Although it is hard for me to believe, especially when you say the magic has taken on a soul of its own, I find that I must. As I have said, I have some knowledge of you both and even of Ra-May, though I did not know your names. The Crystal has been showing me puzzling images for the last two turns of the moon, things that I did not comprehend. But you both have been in these scenes, and so I find myself urged to believe. Please, you must sit and tell me everything with nothing withheld. I see written in your faces the sorrow of a great tragedy, and I wish to understand what has etched it there.”
	El-Cha sank down into the seat Ar-Hur recently vacated, sighing as he met golden eyes with the clear blue of his own. “All you have sensed is true. It is with a heavy heart I reveal to you the future of your beloved Ra-Jee. Perhaps once I have finished then you can tell me what it is that Ra-Nu and I were sent here to do.”
	They took turns telling the young Ar-Hur everything that had happened to them and their absent companions. He in turn sat silent, only his eyes hinting at hidden feelings.
	When they had finished, Ar-Hur lowered his head, answering them with words laced heavily with unrevealed torment, “I fear that I cannot change that which is meant to be. It is not within my power. Sadly, I am as much a player in this game as the two of you.”
	He paused, looking down thoughtfully at his folded hands. Then raising his head quickly, he captured their eyes with a bold stare and winked.
	“But as is possible in any game, things change, outcomes are not always the same as new players enter to begin their play,” he added. “I think I might be able to help you take the game to a higher level. I should be able to tilt the board more in our favor. After all, I seem to be the one who started it. Who is to gainsay me when I change the rules a bit?”
	“Thank you, Sire, for believing us,” Ra-Nu said. “I fear that if I stood in your place and heard our tale, I would not have been so easily convinced.”
	Ar-Hur laughed, “True, but you do not have the Crystal to guide you. Fortunately, I do...”

	“...Yes, children,” whispered the Storyteller, leaning his weathered face toward his silent audience. With a curt nod, he sat upright and sighed. “Ar-Hur did indeed have the Crystal to guide him. Ah, but what would he do with the knowledge?”
	A slow grin inched its way across his face as he watched the children look to him quizzically. “I see I still have your interest.”
	“Good, for there is much more to be told before my time is through.”
	Squinting above their heads, he searched for a familiar face. He couldn’t find one, but he’d felt a presence. He was sure he had.
	“Now, let us return to the Valley of Ra-Jee...”

	They walked silently back the way they had come. The halls were empty now, causing their steps to echo heavily through the lonely corridors, each enmeshed in their own private thoughts and worries.
	Ar-Hur was true to his word, and they were ushered into the Great Hall to join in the celebration. It should have been a happy time, but the three who entered looked beaten and weary. The prince shed his gloom as easily as discarding a mantle upon taking his first step into the Hall.
	Turning, he studied El-Cha openly. His clandestine grin promised something very exciting while his wink seemed to seal the foretold promise. “Come, follow me,” he beckoned. “I at least can ease some of your pain.”
	El-Cha looked forward along the direction his brother had indicated as his feet trustingly followed his lead. He nearly choked on his own breath when he realized where Ar-Hur was leading them.
	“Here, finally, is my wayward son,” King Ra-El guffawed. “We had feared that you had decided that a bonding was not to your liking.”
	 “Nothing of the kind, Father. I was detained only when I encountered close friends come to wish me well.”
	“As long as you do not have ice in your veins, then all is well. Sar-Ion is more than just a pretty face you know.” Ra-El reminded him, his tone serious, “It would not do to offend the Forest Elves.”
	“Never, never!” Ar-Hur assured. “The only offense I will offer, I fear, will be when they do not see their fair Sar-Ion as often as they might wish.”
	“And why, might I ask, would they be denied her presence?” Ra-El shot back.
	“Alas,” Ar-Hur offered, “I am afraid that I am a selfish being who will not share her easily.”
	They both laughed.
	“But, Father, if I might take a moment of your time, I wish to introduce very old acquaintances,” Ar-Hur said, maneuvering El-Cha to his side.
	“May I present to you, El-Cha and Ra-Nu?”
	They bowed, not rising until given permission. The King smiled and extended his hand in greeting. “A friend of my son is a friend of mine. Rise, I bid you both welcome.”
	El-Cha, for once, was speechless as he took the hand of the father he had never known.
	“Father,” Ar-Hur said, “El-Cha is a Scholar and wished to hear, first hand, all the tales of the Band Wars. I hope you do not mind, but I told him you were an expert on the subject and would be happy to relate the details to him.”
	“Band Wars, did you say?” the King beamed. “Why, I would be more than pleased to have someone listen to me on the subject. You know how your Mother always hushes me when the wars are mentioned.”
	He threw a beefy arm across El-Cha’s shoulder and began to lead him off to an area where they could talk undisturbed and where Ra-El would not be found before he could relive his youthful glory.
	El-Cha shot Ar-Hur a grateful glance as he trailed after the King.
	“Now, for you, Ra-Nu,” Ar-Hur declared, turning his full attention on him. “What is it that you wish to do?”
	“I do not have anyone here that I wish to meet. I know that sounds rude, but in truth, I am not sure why I am even here,” the Warrior answered.
	“Come now, surely there is something you desire?”
	“Food!” was his immediate reply. They both chuckled.
	“I think I can accommodate you with very little trouble. Walk straight ahead for a few paces and you will bump into the serving tables.” Ar-Hur laughed as he pointed toward the tables heaped high with all sorts of wondrous concoctions.
	Ra-Nu sighed, the sound wistful. “Food! Real food. I know now that I am not within my own time!”
	Ar-Hur held Ra-Nu’s arm, detaining him momentarily from his goal. In a low voice he stated, “After the feast and after I have honored my mate, I want you and El-Cha to meet me by the garden wall that leads to the Crystal’s Keep.”
	Ra-Nu nodded. He knew the wall that the prince spoke of.
	“Once we are together again, we will try to sort out the reasons why you were summoned here. If I must, I will consort with the Ancients to find the answers. But for now, go, eat, make merry but say nothing.”
	Again Ra-Nu bowed his head. Ar-Hur bowed his own in parting and quickly made his way into the crowd.
	Ra-Nu cleared a path, although not as neatly as the prince, toward the waiting food. He did not need to be urged to enjoy himself. He knew that the bountiful tables, piled high with Elfen delicacies, was all the enjoyment he would ever need. It had been a long time since he had eaten ‘good’ Elfen edibles.
	He smiled as he took a bite of a wonderful pastry. He had refilled his plate for the third time and knew himself to be blissfully happy.
	He had just finished the last of a pastry and was licking his fingers when Ar-Hur came up behind him. He nodded and was about to speak when he realized his mistake. This was not the golden-eyed Ar-Hur but his blue-eyed twin, El-Hur.
	‘Funny,’ he thought, ‘I did not even know of his existence a mere moment ago, and now here he stands before me.’
	El-Hur studied Ra-Nu carefully before pulling his lip up in a sneer. Ra-Nu felt a wave of unease sweep over him. He did not like the way the other’s eyes glowed. Having come to some conclusion that Ra-Nu could only guess at, the twin twitched his lips in a semblance of a polite smile and moved off into the crowd.
	Ra-Nu felt a chill crawl up his spine.
	Plate in tow, reacting to his sudden unease, Ra-Nu wove his way carefully through the crowd in pursuit of the prince. He tried to act casual while keeping his blonde head in sight. It was a gallant effort as the prince seemed to be forever on the move.
	After what felt like cycles of useless wondering, Ra-Nu came to the conclusion that he had misunderstood his feelings toward El-Hur and gave up his tail.
	Hearing the strings of the music tuning, he eyed a pretty little maiden who appeared to be watching him with interest. ‘It would be fun to dance with a fair maiden again,’ he thought and turned toward her.
	“Hold, guard! I wish to speak with you.”
	The tone was cool and detached, giving Ra-Nu pause.
	‘Where have I heard that voice before?’ he wondered and shivered as a cold invisible hand reached in and seized his heart.
	“Come here and attend me, you oaf!”
	Ra-Nu turned slowly to come face to face with Prince El-Hur. Bowing respectfully, he asked, “How may I be of service, my Lord?”
	“Come and walk with me. I have a task, and I need your strong arm,” El-Hur ordered. “You will do my bidding as if I were the voice of the King. Do you understand me?”
	“Aye, my Lord,” Ra-Nu replied obediently, trying for a tone that was meek and demure.
	“Good! Now follow, and we will discuss the task as we walk.”
	They weaved their way through the crowd, making their way out of the Great Hall. Ra-Nu shivered as his arm accidentally brushed up against El-Hur’s. He sensed a heavy veil of darkness wafting off the prince, and he recoiled.
	El-Hur continued speaking, but Ra-Nu was lost in a distant memory.
	Ra-Nu had heard these words before. He knew what each phrase would be before the prince spoke them. And the most unnerving of his sudden flash of recall was that he knew where he had heard them.
	“You!” he whispered, shock reflecting in his eyes. “You are the one!”
	“Of course I am the one! It seems you really are a big oaf.” El-Hur sneered. “I knew you were the one I had contracted for when I first saw you in the streets. What I did not know was that you were going to bring an accomplice. But it is of no great concern to me as long as you do the job properly.”
	“My job?” Ra-Nu stammered.
	“They did say that they would send a dimwitted fellow, but I never dreamt they honestly meant it,” he lashed out cruelly. “Mayhap it is the little Elf who is the true brains behind this and you are nothing more than the muscle. I did notice that he maneuvered my Father off somewhere. Whatever...I just want our business completed -- and soon.”
	He glanced about, his head darting quickly here and there, before saying, “I will discuss with you the main plan, and you,” he eyed him doubtfully, “can relay the message to your partner.”
	“Here is how it should be done, and I will even tell you the place...” El-Hur droned on as Ra-Nu looked on, his building fury threatening to blind him from his common sense.
	Realizing that he had stumbled upon a unique situation, he fought to hold his tongue, struggling inwardly to play the game and see where it lead as Prince El-Hur described a detailed plan, one that could work. But one that would fail if Ra-Nu had any say in the matter.
	He listened, his features held in check as El-Hur told him how to murder the King. It was to look like an accident, he insisted. But it had to be done soon, he warned. He explained that he would do it himself, but he could not take the ‘blood of his blood’ and expect to rule. So he was forced to do it in a roundabout way.
	Ra-Nu doubted that this Elf believed in any of the old lores. What better way to remain above suspect than to have someone else do what you would do, gladly if not for suffering the repercussions.
	When El-Hur finished detailing his schemes, Ra-Nu asked, “When the deed is done, my Lord, what will become of Ar-Hur?”
	El-Hur sneered and drew his lips back in a heinous snarl, “I shall have to come up with something grand for him. It would not do for our wonderful prince to slip away quietly, but it will be hard as he is protected by that damnable Crystal!”
	Ra-Nu kept his features blank, hoping to reaffirm El-Hur’s belief in his dimwittedness. Then he sighed and said, “Then if all is finished between us, I think it best if we are not seen together. It would be better if no one remembered that we had been together after the deed is done.”
	El-Hur nodded. “Mayhap you are not as stupid as you look.” Then he whispered, “I will contact you after the contract has been satisfied. Until then...” he let his sentence hang and walked away, leaving Ra-Nu free to interpret it how he wished.
	Watching him disappear into the crowd, Ra-Nu fought the urge to run after and strangle him, grateful that he still had a small measure of control left in him.
	He balled his hands into fists, squared his shoulders, and headed into the Hall. He must find El-Cha...quickly.

Chapter Thirty
Until We Meet Again

	“What do you think we should do?” Ra-Nu thundered. “Surely we cannot stand by and watch while this plot evolves?”
	El-Cha turned thoughtful eyes to his friend. “I know you think me too close emotionally to offer rational thought, yet it is you who must first calm himself.”
	He sank wearily down upon a bench and buried his forehead in his hands, groaning. He then rose and began to pace the room.
	Ra-Nu looked on in stony silence.
	His blue eyes shone brightly when at last he gave up his pacing and turned to face Ra-Nu. Chewing upon his lower lip, he said, “In truth, I know not what we will be permitted.”
	Ra-Nu started to open his mouth, but El-Cha held his hand up to forestall him. “Hear me out, please. I have given our dilemma careful thought and have reached at least one conclusion -- that we cannot interfere any further with our history. Why? If we do, we could very well confuse matters enough so that we might never be born.”
	Ra-Nu hated magic. He opened his mouth to say so but was hushed yet again.
	“Ra-Nu, you know our history as well as I. You know that my Father died before his time.”
	“Died young, aye, but murdered? El-Cha, I cannot stand by and watch a murder no matter who the victim. I must do something!”
	“Think, my friend. You have already done something!” he inserted.
	Looking unsure, he countered, “I have done nothing -- yet!”
	“Please think! You have done something! By pretending to be the employed assassin you have managed to stop this attempt on the King’s life.”
	“Aye, you speak logic, but what now do you suggest we do?” Ra-Nu asked reluctantly. “I must do something more than sit about, ideally allowing history to replay its grim decrees. I must!”
	Holding his hands out before him in an effort to forestall the larger Elf, El-Cha stated, “Alas, it becomes a waiting game. We must see what the magic throws upon the path. I cannot say for certes, but I suspect our roles are important.”
	He looked up into the Warrior’s stern face and smiled weakly. “It is hard for me, too, Ra-Nu. But I believe in the magic. It will not lead us astray.”
	Ra-Nu felt an annoying pang of guilt.
	“There is a reason we are here at this precise moment in Ra-Jee’s history, but I cannot understand or sense the ‘why’ yet.” El-Cha spoke softly, more to himself than to Ra-Nu. “I know that magic hums in strange distant chords, but I wish it was less painful at times.”
	Huge tears escaped his eyes as he turned away. Ra-Nu left him to the comforting silence and gazed out to the palace gardens that rested serenely below their chamber balcony.
	El-Cha soon recovered and joined him. He looked to his friend and smiled weakly. “I will survive. Sadly, I realize another fact no matter what I try to preach to the contrary.”
	Ra-Nu raised an eyebrow in query. El-Cha shrugged and said, “I find that I cannot sit idly by either, Ra-Nu. I may speak pretty words full of conviction, laced heavily with the things we should or should not do, but in truth it is all lies. I find that I would rather cease to be than stand impersonally by and allow a plot to kill my Father bloom.”
	“What do you want to do?” Ra-Nu asked, jumping eagerly to his feet.
	El-Cha shrugged his shoulders. “I do not know. I guess we should talk to Ar-Hur. Hopefully he will know what can be done.”
	When he mentioned the prince’s name, Ra-Nu’s head popped up. “I forgot in all the excitement, but we must meet Ar-Hur by the Crystal Keep soon. He will be waiting but grown suspicious if we do not hurry.”
	El-Cha laughed. “How did you ever maintain all the Palace Guard with your excitable memory?”
	Ra-Nu eyed him strangely before joining El-Cha in his laughter. “I seem to be out of practice. I have aged and grown slow. It has been many phasings since I had more than just an Elfling to look after. I do not react as swiftly as I once would have.”
	El-Cha replied, a smile teasing the edges of his lips, “I would have hated to see you in full power, my friend. I am glad you have mellowed.”
	Ra-Nu groaned and then, squaring his shoulders, he commanded, “Come, we must hurry or Ar-Hur will think we have forsaken his kindness.”
	They made their way swiftly from the Palace and lingered in the garden area for a time before working their way to the appointed meeting place, not wishing to draw attention to themselves.
	While on the path leading to the Crystal Keep, a pair of sinister eyes watched the two until they were enshrouded by the shadowy darkness. Blinking against the strain it took to penetrate the unyielding blackness, the orbs finally surrendered to its greater strength. With great reluctance, El-Hur, cursing the shadows, turned back toward the Great Hall. ‘I shall have to watch those two very carefully,’ he thought. ‘It would not do to have them make any foolish mistakes.’ He squinted as he encountered the blaze from the Hall. Quickly, he transformed his somber features.
	‘Time will tell,’ he thought and then laughed sinfully. ‘Aye, soon, if all goes as I plan -- time itself will be mine!’
	Ra-Nu and El-Cha reached the wall without any mishaps. They saw no sign of Ar-Hur and so leaned ideally against the damp, cool stone to wait. They had not been waiting long when a low, even whistle was heard rising steadily from the shadows.
	Ra-Nu was instantly on guard, warrior’s stance activated. El-Cha only lifted off the wall, crossed his arms, and waited, choosing to remain within the shadows.
	A figure emerged from the surrounding gloom and calmly strolled toward them. Raising his hand, he greeted, “Hail to thee, my friend, Ra-Nu, and brother, El-Cha. I am sorry to be late. I came as quickly as I dared. I hope you have not been discomforted by my tardiness?” His melodious voice washed over them.
	Ra-Nu relaxed.
	Ar-Hur had an uncanny ability to put anyone at ease just by his manner and presence. This ability was not lost on Ra-Nu. This gift was what made him such a honored leader -- or would, Ra-Nu mentally corrected. Many opponents would have the misfortune of mistaking his gift as a sign of weakness in the phasings to come. Ra-Nu already felt pity for those unfortunate souls with their misguided instincts.
	He reasoned it was more than a trait of the ‘Gold’ that enabled him to shine as he did. It was Ar-Hur, himself, that personified the gift of the Crystal, taking it to greater heights, higher than even the jewel would have had him soar.
	Ra-Nu realized with a shock that it would be this very empathy that might eventually lead to Ra-Jee’s ruin.
	Somehow Ra-Nu must shake Ar-Hur’s foundation and make him see the truth before it was too late for them all. But how was he going to broach such a subject? He had no answer, but he would try no matter what the consequences. He must!
	Ar-Hur watched the play of emotions on the Warrior’s face with great interest. ‘Rest at ease, my friend. I will do what I must if I am allowed to try,’ he vowed silently.
	“Come,” Ar-Hur ordered.
	He moved to a section of the wall that was completely overgrown with wild vines and waved his hands at the unruly growth. The thick, tangled mass parted, revealing a gold-plated door with the seal of Ra-Jee embossed in its center. Ar-Hur pushed lightly on the seal and the door swung inward. Looking back to the others, he stated, “We will consult the Ancients and see why they brought you here in the first place.”
	Ra-Nu had never seen this entrance before. By the look on El-Cha’s face, he had not known of its existence either.
	Ar-Hur smiled when he saw their confusion and quickly explained, “This is a private entrance, only the ‘Children of the Gold’ know of it. At least, until now. I believe you have the right to see the truth behind the legends of the Ancients.”
	Without elaborating, he lead them down winding, moss-slick stairs that burrowed deeply beneath the Keep. Ra-Nu had never been down this far before, and he had thought he had explored every inch of the place. It was very unnerving.
	After what felt like a descent to the very core of the valley, they reached the final landing. Before them stood yet another golden door, identical to the hidden one above them.
	“My friends, behold the true jewel of the Ancients,” Ar-Hur announced as he swung the door wide.
	Ra-Nu and El-Cha stood at the threshold, eyes propped wide in disbelief. The chamber was large with round seamless walls made of the whitest, purest marble, so white that it hurt ones eyes just to look upon it. But the real wonder stood in the center of the oval room. There, mounted on a golden pedestal, sat the ‘Crystal of the Gold’...or was it?
	Ra-Nu did not know. The jewel he remembered was smaller and did not glow as this one did. It had not been mounted but had sat useless and wobbly on a rock floor in a chamber that had been square and small.
	“What is happening here?” he asked.
	El-Cha nodded, just as confused as his companion.
	Ar-Hur laughed and then presented them with yet another of his mysterious winks.
	“I understand your confusion, and I will try to explain. You will need to have some knowledge of this little charade when you return to your own time,” the prince said seriously. “You see before you the true jewel of Ra-Jee. There is another, smaller gem, that rests above us, but this one is the real source of the power.”
	“But why?” El-Cha stuttered. “Why hide the jewel from its Race?”
	“It is here for its protection as well as the protection of the Valley,” Ar-Hur stated patiently. “The jewel above us is a smaller section of this one and serves as guardian for the true ‘Jewel’. It is the soul of the Elfen Race, placed here long ago by the ‘Ancients’ to protect Ra-Jee.”
	“Then it failed!” Ra-Nu snapped.
	El-Cha’s sharp intake of breath could be heard as it echoed intrusively into the chamber.
	But Ar-Hur only nodded. “Spoken as a true Warrior, Ra-Nu. Never let it be said that you do not speak your mind.”
	Ra-Nu folded his arms across his chest and thrust his chin forward, stubbornly refusing to take back his words.
	Ar-Hur seemed to read his thoughts and nodded once again. “We will attempt to see what went awry, and then how or if we can set it right again. Come, we will ask.”
	He approached the Crystal with his hands held out humbly before him. The jewel responded with a swirling array of light that began to build steadily from within its core only to swiftly grow and fill the chamber with its dazzling array of color.
	The spectrum of hues washed across the sterile whiteness of the walls nearly blinding them, forcing them to avert their gaze from the mesmerizing sight.
	Once the jewel had awakened, Ar-Hur motioned for them to seat themselves near him on the smooth marble floor. Nervously, Ra-Nu and El-Cha complied.
	“Now we shall attempt to see why you are here, and why the magic sought you out. Then, hopefully, it will show me what I must do to help you and Ra-Jee.”
	He whispered into the multicolored air surrounding them while raising his hands high above his head. What he said Ra-Nu did not know, but when his arms descended, the walls sprang to life, producing visions that swirled wildly before them.
	“Look now, my friends, on the power of the Ancients. Look and learn!” Ar-Hur commanded, his voice resounding deeply within the chamber.
	Ra-Nu looked and saw a younger version of himself, cradling a babe. The child slept peacefully within his strong grip as he scanned about him. He had forgotten how small and helpless Ra-May had been then. A tear rolled unheeded down his cheek as he relived the moment now long passed, forcing the forgotten emotions to be resurrected.
	The vision blurred, and now he saw his charge as a young Elfling, running heedlessly through the forest, her long, blonde hair trailing vivaciously behind her. He imagined her laughter as she ran free, innocent and unaffected by troubles yet to come.
	A blink of his eye and the picture changed yet again.
	Before them sat a small boy beside a still, silver pool. Ra-Nu noted that the child possessed the saddest eyes he had ever seen, orbs that seemed to long for something, and he felt the anguish in his own soul.
	Yet for all his sorrow, the child was beautiful. His eyes, dark as a moonless cycle, lent him features that appeared more than merely mortal.
	He knew he was being shown Michall.
	“I wonder what put that sadness in such young eyes,” El-Cha said into the stillness of the chamber.
	Ar-Hur replied, “I think it was Ra-Jee. Even then I believe he felt the loss without fully understanding what it was he longed for.”
	“I remain confused. Michall is human. He knows nothing except for what we have told him.” Ra-Nu protested, knowing even as he spoke that he was lying to himself. Michall was something more than what he appeared, he had sensed it upon first meeting the lad.
	“Ah, but I disagree. We should not underestimate the boy,” El-Cha rose to his defense. “I trust time to answer all questions. I cannot say with any certainty, it is only that I sense there is more than meets the eye in him.”
	“Watch,” Ar-Hur interjected. “Mayhap the Crystal will explain further.”
	The wall visions swayed, revealing another Michall, this one grown, appearing before them now much the same as when they had last seen him.
	Ra-Nu had failed before to notice the strong, determined face that framed those strange, dark eyes. He had seen only another cub, someone else to look after. But here before him stood the truth...an accurate vision of an entirely different person than the one he had presumed to know. This cub was a man and a powerful force to be reckoned with.
	Michall loomed large above him on the wall. His eyes darting about, searching. Those dark eyes still held their secrets, and now Ra-Nu could glimpse the power buried in them, lying dormant beneath the surface. He vowed, “I will ease your pain, princeling, if I can, once I return to your side. You should not have to bear such great sadness.”
	“Aye, Ra-Nu, he should not.” Ar-Hur whispered, feeling a painful affinity to the lad.
	Once again the visions swirled, switching to two lone figures limping slowly down a sandy landscape. Water slapped up on the beach, wetting their boots, slowing their progress further.
	El-Cha gasped, “It is Ra-May and Michall, and they are wounded!”
	The white sands in the vision mingled uneasily with the marble of the wall, and for a moment, Ra-Nu feared that the Crystal would show them no more. He swore he could smell the salty air rising from the water world and hear the gulls scream as they darted daringly downward for a quick feast. He strained his eyes, trying to locate his cubs against the bleached landscape.
	There, just to the right of his vision, came the two. It was true. As they drew nearer he could see that it was Michall who was injured, noting how he leaned heavily on Ra-May’s shoulder. He could see the blood flowing down the boy’s leg, gushing profusely, soaking his leathers a darker shade of brown with each forward stride.
	“These two would be Michall and Ra-May as they appear in your time, would they not?” Ar-Hur asked quietly.
	Ra-Nu looked puzzled. ‘Surely he knew who they were?’
	Ar-Hur’s golden orbs sparkled as he studied their images. “It is good to see that you are worthy,” he whispered.
	El-Cha opened his mouth to ask what he meant, but before sound escaped his lips, Ar-Hur spoke again.
	“So it seems that these young ones were not permitted an escape through time.” His tone was soft and knowing, pulling Ra-Nu and El-Cha’s attention away from the wall.
	He saw the questions in their eyes and explained, “They have not been offered the warm caress of magic to soothe their troubled spirits. It is very interesting and very disheartening,” the Elfen prince said more to himself than to them.
	“We must return and soon!” Ra-Nu’s impassioned voice rose into the colorful air. “Those children have need of me!”
	‘Agreed. All must return to their appointed times,’ Ar-Hur thought.
	“Calm yourself, Ra-Nu,” Ar-Hur enjoined, directing his thoughts away from the misty visions. “Bear in mind that these are only visions of things that will come, not what has passed. You have all of future time to return. Turn your attention back to the wall, a new vision is being offered.”
	A dark, foreboding hole was emerging through the wall, swallowing its whiteness, eating all light effortlessly. Its cannibalistic hunger continued to evolve, becoming something more discernible to finally identify itself as a steep, enormous cavern.
	Somehow, even knowing what it was, its presence grew more oppressive with each opaque swatch imprinted upon the wall.
	Within the dusky abysm, at its core, a presence formed. It moved closer, causing Ra-Nu to flinch, sure that the thing was going to come through the wall and grab them with its sharp, curved talons.
	Clinging above the bent, clawed appendages hung wizened, pale skin, the sickly color of dry, yellowed parchment. Following a line from its grotesquely deformed hands, they beheld the corpse-like visage of the creature as it loomed high above them.
	Ar-Hur hissed.
	Ra-Nu turned away, bile rising to his throat. If the thing had ever claimed kinship to any Race, identifying characteristics had long since flown.
	It drifted from their view to fade back into the depressing darkness, once again allowing an unobstructed view of the cavern.
	The vision changed yet again, and they saw themselves in the strange water world now. The wall divided, showing not only their future but that of their companions, scattered throughout the area, fighting an undisclosed battle.
	“What goes on here?” El-Cha whispered.
	Ar-Hur surmised, “I believe that the Crystal has shown important information that you may well need to know. It may make little sense now, but mayhap once you have returned to your own era it will give you an advantage.”
	Ra-Nu shuddered. He leveled a worried look to El-Cha who nodded.
	The visions faded, leaving them blinded by the sudden appearance of the brilliant white walls. They remained seated, legs crossed upon the cool stone floor in muted indifference, too absorbed in their own thoughts to do anything else.
	It was El-Cha who finally shattered the silence. “Although I pride myself on my mental alertness, I fear that I am at a loss. I am unable to comprehend how these visions will aid us.”
	“I do understand,” Ar-Hur stated firmly. “And I now know how to help.”
	He motioned them closer. “You see, the Crystal has shown you your enemy and has tried to convey its strengths and weaknesses. Most importantly, she has shown you the manner in which you should attack.”
	“The manner of attack?” El-Cha asked.
	“Aye, for you cannot defeat the Del-a-Shar if you attack as one at one location. You must come from all sides, cause it to divide its power to guard against you. If you confuse it, muddle its efforts, you might be able to distract it enough to destroy it. But do not make the mistake of thinking it weak. Cross-attacking is necessary but risky. If you let down your guard even a fraction, it will devour you.”
	Ar-Hur tried to impress his point with a stern, serious gaze before continuing in his somber tone, “And with Ra-May’s combined Band magic, she should be able to harry the creature.”
	“What do you mean?” a worried voice demanded. “What combined magic?”
	“Being of two Bands, she carries the power of both. The elements of earth and water are hers for the asking. Surely you understand this?” he asked.
	“I do not!” Ra-Nu snapped indignantly. “I do not have magic in my blood!”
	Ar-Hur raised questioning brows to El-Cha.
	“I seem to have forgotten to mention this little detail,” El-Cha stated sheepishly.
	Ar-Hur grunted, sounding very much like Ra-Nu.
	“It is as he says,” El-Cha continued. “The Elves of his time possess no magic.”
	“What happened -- what of the girl? How will she fight such a thing without the power?” Ar-Hur asked, his tone conveying his deep concern.
	“It seems that she does possess the magic, but she is untrained. Ra-Nu did not know how to prepare her. As for the magic and the Elves, I do not know,” he lied. He would not tell Ar-Hur what he suspected.
	“She will just have to make do. I do not understand the turn the Crystal has taken. Only the Ancients know why they do the things they do,” Ar-Hur said. “I will trust to their wisdom.”
	Ra-Nu looked on silently. He came to the sudden realization that he was the oldest Elf in the chamber and thought perhaps he felt it. All the things that he knew about Ar-Hur had not come to pass yet. The proud, brave leader of Ra-Jee was right now nothing more than a child who would one cycle grow into a king.
	He sighed, “Crystal, will I always be surrounded by untried cubs?” He received no answer, but had he really expected one?
	Shrugging off his weariness, he reentered the conversation. “This knowledge must be the reason we are here. Knowing what we face and how it should be fought is a great boon.”
	“It is a logically sound assumption. I had hoped for more but will take what is given,” El-Cha added reluctantly.
	“We must return somehow and quickly,” Ra-Nu insisted. “Those cubs are alone and do not have the knowledge that we hold. They will die if we tarry.”
	“As I have said, you have the time, but I think that you will not stand the wait. The wind has brought you here, baring messages that I have yet to understand, but I will in time. Now it is left to me to attempt to send you back,” he announced. “It has been an honor to have met you, Ra-Nu...and El-Cha, I look forward to the cycle you are born.”
	He crossed the chamber, his shoulders slumping visibly with his own private burdens. From the far end of the oval room, he turned to face them. Sighing, he offered, “You may rest easy that the knowledge you have given me will be considered and used if I am able. I will attempt to uphold my end of the obligation.”
	Ra-Nu stepped forward and offered his hand. “Although I have been nothing more than an unwilling passenger on this journey, I wish to say that it has been an honor to have met you. I shall cherish this memory for as long as I live. I would have gratefully served you, my Lord. It is with regret that I bid you farewell.”
	“Many thanks, my friend. Your warm words will blanket me in the times to follow. They will give me strength when I am weak, courage when I am scared,” he answered as unshed tears moistened his eyes.
	Turning to El-Cha, he held out his arms, asking in gesture to hold him close. “You, I shall miss deeply. I look forward to the cycle you are conceived, knowing that you will again be held within my embrace. I thank the Crystal for giving me these precious moments. My heart breaks even now.”
	He wiped at a stray tear as it trailed down his cheek and smiled weakly, “We seem to be an emotional Band, do we not?”
	El-Cha swung his downcast head in answer. He too wept tears of sorrow.
	“It seems that I must say goodbye even before I have had the chance to give greeting,” Ar-Hur said as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a large gold ring. “When you return, give this to the fair Ra-May. She will have need of it.”
	El-Cha looked quizzically at the ring but asked no questions. He placed it on his own finger and turned sorrowful eyes to his brother.
	“There is still something left undone here. Something that I must tell you before we leave.”
	Ar-Hur raised his brow and waited for him to continue.
	“We discovered something that should be passed on. You should be made aware and in understanding may be able to prevent it. Mayhap in knowing you can save us all from our uncertain futures.”
	Ar-Hur shook his head to deny him. “Tell me no more. The Crystal shows me only the things that might be changed. Those events that I cannot control are left in the void, sparing me the anguish. You must spare me also. Some things cannot be changed, only altered. Some events will happen no matter what I do. I fear that if you reveal these things to me and I can do nothing, it will eventually destroy me.”
	His eyes pleaded to them to keep their secrets. He squared his shoulders. “Now you understand, I think.” Rubbing his hands together, he said, “We all have a role to play in this game, shall we be about it?”
	El-Cha gave a solemn nod. He understood, but it did not make it any easier to absorb. He reached out and pulled his brother one last time into his embrace, then said, “We are ready when you are.”
	“Then draw near, and I will attempt to send you into the future. May the Crystal guide you, my friends.”
	“Step here,” he directed, pointing to a spot in front of the jewel. “She will open a wall to you. When you see the time and place you wish to be, leap into the vision and you will be there. Farewell, may my blessings embrace you and keep you safe.”
	Nervously, Ra-Nu and El-Cha stepped to the spot Ar-Hur had indicated and watched as the Crystal flared, becoming a clear ball filled with lightning spikes of rainbow-tinted hues.
	Before them the wall displayed scenes from the strange water world. As before, on the beach they saw a figure. Ra-Nu tensed, ready to leap.
	But the figure was neither Michall nor Ra-May but another he was well acquainted with! Ra-Nu had been so worried about his charge that he had failed to wonder what had befallen Phillip.
	The silly human appeared to be strolling aimlessly along, accompanied by the two Fire Elves, managing to appear confused and look arrogant at the same time.
	‘Just what has he gotten into?’ Ra-Nu wondered. He did not think, only reacted as he leapt, pulling El-Cha with him, deciding to ask Phillip himself.
	El-Cha had but a moment to turn back and mouth the words, ‘I love you,’ before the veils of time swallowed him. His last vision of his brother had been one of sorrow. Ar-Hur stood alone, head hung downward, burdened by the unseen weight of Ra-Jee’s uncertain and bleak future.
	The golden prince watched them fade away and then turned his back to the wall. Somehow he knew that even as he tried to stop the rush of time with all its horrible events it would move in and crush him anyway.
	‘But,’ he vowed, ‘I will try to ease their burden.’
	He sealed the Chamber and began the long, lonely climb back to the surface. He shuddered as he remembered the vision his friends would eventually have to confront...a face he knew well.
	“What drove you to such hatred? What evil buried itself within your soul and overpowered you? What event drove you on the course of greed, transforming you into that hideous thing I saw?”
	His steps echoed loudly on the stone as he allowed the full weight of the visions to settle over him. He would bear the guilt. It was a heavy burden, but he would carry it if he could not somehow prevent it.
	“You will indeed be a King one cycle -- King of the dead,” he stated to no one. With his head hung low, he wept weary tears as he moved sluggishly up the stairs.
	Within the Keep the jewel hummed. “Rest, my son. All will be as it will be. In time, you will understand...”

	“...So you see, my children,” the Storyteller sighed, “not even the great and powerful Ar-Hur understood everything. Magic does indeed work in strange and wondrous ways.”
	He studied his audience, flashing an ancient grin outward at the awaiting crowd.
	Sighing loudly for effect, he moaned, “Although they didn’t speak to Ar-Hur of their fears, the golden prince’s trusting foundation was shattered just the same. He saw the truth, he just didn’t know what he could do.”
	He clapped his hands, rubbing them together in anticipation. “Now we must find our friends and see what their little adventures have provided, don’t you all agree?”
	A wave of heads bowed in unison, but no sound was uttered.
	“Good, now where was I? Ah, we return to the water lands, the Lands of Sol...”

Chapter Thirty-one
We Must Be Ready

	The air shimmered before Phillip’s eyes. He blinked, hoping to clear his vision, but the illusion remained, weaving unsteadily before him. Flickering, it continued to transform, changing into the semblance of a swirling eddy planted precariously before him in midair.
	The unnatural aberration sucked at his clothes, threatening to devour him. He backed cautiously away, drawing his sword as he went. Finding the distance a bolster to his nerves, he halted.
	A screaming wind built from the eddies depth, its presence harsh, its voice hurting Phillip’s ears. The winnow howled as unseen hands snatched at the breach, clawing at it with vicious determination until it ripped a ragged seam down the center.
	He swore under his breath as he fought against the constant, relentless pull of the gaping maw. Instinctively, he thrust his sword into the sandy earth, letting it sink deeply into the grainy surface, hoping it would anchor him securely.
	The seam continued to enlarge until it appeared ready to burst apart. Then, quite suddenly, it grew placate, the wind called to heel, the gaping rent content to remain a constant, spinning orb propped upon an unseen axis.
	Phillip, made braver by its calm, peered within. Something lurked within its center, faint but growing more distinct as it came forward along the deep tunnels.
	He backed up a step. “What is going on here?”
	The images drew nearer. Soon they were at the mouth of the tunnel, forcing their way through to his side of the anomaly. A loud popping sound deafened him momentarily as the invisible veil that covered the suspended hole was torn away.
	With an undignified plop, Ra-Nu and El-Cha dived onto the beach, landing on their bellies in the sand. Phillip back-peddled and lost his footing, landing in a heap, dazed and dumbstruck, upon the damp sands.
	Recovering quickly, Ra-Nu pulled himself up into a sitting position and spat sand from his mouth.
	“My, my. Look who decided to pay us a friendly visit?” Phillip managed in a less-than-confident tone. He stood and dusted the sand from his seat. Walking cautiously toward Ra-Nu, he held out his hand.
	“I was just saying to the little flutterbugs that I hoped someone would show up soon. But I never dreamt how inventive you would be once you decided to join us. I am impressed.”
	Ra-Nu accepted his hand and pulled himself up. He let his gaze travel steadily first to Phillip’s head, then downward to his feet, and then back up again, keeping his features unreadable. Finally looking away, he bent and helped El-Cha to his feet, his silence unnerving.
	“Calm yourself, big fellow,” Phillip quickly stated, breaking the lull that surrounded them. “I truly am glad to see you both. Don’t make me sorry that I dared to miss you.”
	Ra-Nu quickly swung about, his movement predatory, alarming Phillip who stepped back defensively. He didn’t intend to be caught by the great giant.
	“Now, let’s not do anything rash,” Phillip stuttered, hands held out before him in defense. “I want you to think before doing something that you’ll be sorry for later. See here...” but never got a chance to finish because the wind was knocked from his lungs when Ra-Nu grasped him in his powerful arms and lifted him off his feet in one enormous bear-hug. Then held him suspended in midair for a moment before releasing him.
	“Really!” Phillip said, jerking his vest back in place. “I think a hand shake would have sufficed.”
	“Little man, I have not been so happy to see someone in a long time. Glad I am that you survived,” Ra-Nu’s voice boomed.
	“Charmed, I’m sure,” Phillip replied tensely before smiling warmly and admitting, “It’s good to see you, too. I never thought I’d say this, but I really missed you -- both of you,” he added quickly. “Now,” he demanded. “Where have you two been? Or better yet, where is Michall and Ra-May?”
	“Come, let us walk as we explain,” El-Cha interrupted. “First, we must discover where we are before we might aid our absent companions.”
	They moved slowly down the beach. As they went, El-Cha told of their adventure.
	“You say you’ve been in the past?” Phillip asked. “That does sound daring, doesn’t it, Torch?”
	“I would have chosen the past eagerly if asked,” Torch replied decidedly.
	“I believe you. I keep forgetting just how old you really are. I suppose to you the past would seem appealing,” Phillip surmised.
	El-Cha chimed in, “We managed to learn things from the past. It might not be much, but I think it is important.”
	“Aye, important, for we now know the Del-a-Shar’s face,” Ra-Nu agreed.
	“You know who he is?” an amazed Phillip asked. “Do tell?”
	“In time,” El-Cha stated.
	His curiosity piqued, Phillip shrugged, thinking that maybe he would survive his burning curiosity and then again, maybe not. Perhaps he would wait before he pestered them, perhaps not. It was going to depend on how long he was made to wait before they surrendered the information.
	“What ‘is’ imperative is that we locate our missing cubs, then we will tell you all that we know!” Ra-Nu added stubbornly.
	Phillip decided he couldn’t wait. “Unfair, Ra-Nu. You can’t just dangle bait in front of us, and when we bite, refuse to reel us in.”
	Ra-Nu laughed, “Oh, can I not?”
	“I will tell you all that we know, but we must keep moving. Time here runs,” El-Cha reminded them.
	“Agreed,” Ra-Nu and Phillip stated at once.
	Ra-Nu added, “I for one am glad to be back where I belong. I was in awe of the Ra-Jee of old but remained confused, out of place, and alone. I did learn things but knew I could not use what I learned until I could return to my own time.”
	Phillip eyed him suspiciously before saying to El-Cha, “Did you forget Ra-Nu in the past by mistake and,” he shrugged, “bring back an Elf that resembled him?”
	El-Cha laughed while Ra-Nu pounded Phillip fondly, but roughly, on his back. “I did miss you, little man.”
	“See here, you big thug!” Phillip’s indignant tone blustered. “You seem to have developed an unusual fondness for me of late. It’s very unnerving.” Phillip turned, apprehensively watching Ra-Nu’s face for signs of trouble. When he saw nothing alarming, he asked in a hopeful, childlike voice, “Could it mean that you really do like me?”
	“Aye,” Ra-Nu nodded reluctantly. “I hate to admit it, but I do.”
	Phillip whispered, “I’m touched. In truth, I didn’t think you cared at all.”
	Ra-Nu grudgingly answered, his face stained red, “I guess you grew on me. I have lived my life protecting those weaker than myself, little man, and you are as likely a candidate as I have ever encountered!”
	He laughed, slapping Phillip smartly on the shoulder as he did. “That must be why, for I cannot understand it any other way.”
	Phillip joined in the laughter, extending his hand out to him. Ra-Nu shook it voraciously, grateful to actually be able to feel his hand once more, glad no harm had befallen them while he was detained elsewhere.
	“I do seem to grow on folks. It’s a knack I have for getting under their skin, although most would rather squash me than hug me.” He eyed Ra-Nu and added, “But with you, my friend, it could amount to much the same thing.”
	As they continued down the beach, Ra-Nu relented, telling Phillip and the Fire Elves the details of their trip to Ra-Jee and what they had learned. Phillip responded with tales of their own adventures.
	When each had finished over-exaggerating, El-Cha stated, “I fear that neither sojourn has made any difference.”
	“What do you mean by that?” the others responded in unison.
	“Do not misunderstand my words, friends,” El-Cha answered, hands held up to forestall any further questions. “I meant only that it would seem that our warning to Ar-Hur went unheeded, or something interfered, which still brings us back to now. You are all still here, as am I, and Ra-May and Michall are still absent. We all still want to fight the Del-a-Shar,” he added. “So nothing seems to have changed.”
	Phillip plopped down on the soft sand. Crossing his legs, he eyed them wearily. “What you mean is that everything was for nothing! All useless?”
	El-Cha sat next to him and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “I do not mean to suggest that what happened was for naught. I only stated that it appeared that we managed to change nothing.” He looked away and sighed. “I had hoped that we would have made a difference.”
	“I say that we have,” Ra-Nu stated, his chin raised in defiance. “If nothing else has come of this, I say that we at least have more knowledge than we did before. That in itself is priceless.”
	“Aye, you are right, and it is time we gathered our strengths and used that knowledge,” El-Cha agreed seriously. “We must be ready...”

	“...Ready for what?” asked the Storyteller. “Ready to face the Del-a-Shar? Or ready to face the magic? Time would tell...”

Chapter Thirty-two
I Shall Try To Endure

	Michall could walk no further. His leg was numb from the knee down, and his breath came ragged and short. The warm, muggy air, wafting about them did nothing to soothe his pounding head, all a constant reminder of how helpless they really were.
	Obscure memories plagued him, leaving him adrift in a residue of cloying emotions that he couldn’t quite understand. He felt a strange dividing of his soul and feared that he would go insane. He clung tighter to his mate’s solid reality.
	Ra-May sagged under the added burden and, with nothing more than sheer determination, continued moving forward. She had no idea where they were heading and at the moment did not care, intent only on her next step.
	A groan escaped his parched lips before he could halt it. Stopping, Michall ran a sleeve across the sweat dripping from his brow. His leathers were clinging to him like a second skin -- an uncomfortable skin -- and his mood was deteriorating rapidly.
	He remained silent as Ra-May turned questioning eyes up at him. Trying to push the pain aside, he gave her a tired smile. Taking note of her strained features, the simple act became a burden to maintain.
	“All will be well. We’ll find someone soon who will aid us,” he said with as much confidence as he could muster.
	He shifted his weight to his good leg. Surrendering to his body’s nagging weariness, he lowered himself down to the awaiting sands with a relieved sigh. Ra-May joined him, sinking gratefully down to her knees.
	“I am so tired,” she whispered. “I feel as if I might lay upon the sands and sleep the sleep of the Ancients.”
	Michall looked back across the lonely stretch of beach. He saw their tracks -- two sets of prints marking the passage from nowhere, heading into obscurity. He saw the waters edge lapping at the sand, already threatening to erase their passage, successfully nullifying their existence. He saw and felt all this and nothing else. His thoughts matched the landscape -- barren and empty.
	“I had hoped that we’d meet up with the others by now. But,” he quickly added, not wishing to witness that uncertainty in Ra-May’s eyes again, “we will surely catch up to them soon.”
	She sighed. Running her long fingers through the sand, she absently scooped it into a pile, grasped it, and then let the tiny grains slip carelessly from her closed fist back to its original placement.
	“I know you do not believe your brave words anymore than I do,” she accused softly. She ran her hands absently through the fine grit littering the beach.
	He didn’t think he could reassure her while the naked face of reality stared boldly at them and so remained quiet, waiting for her to continue.
	“I agree the words need to be said to give us hope even if they are false. It seems that it is all we have to cling too. I will accept it and be satisfied.”
	He laughed, shattering the gloom hanging about them. He reached for her hand. In a raspy tone, he said, “What a pair we make. All I’ve wanted from the moment I saw you was to get you alone, and now I have my wish. But somehow, this isn’t how I pictured it.”
	A pleasing blush stained her cheeks. She lowered her lashes and turned her face away.
	He laughed harder. “Although it is not how I dreamt it to be, I relish this moment.” He paused, mischief replacing weariness in his eyes. “It takes a lot to get you off by yourself. I don’t think I’ll survive this marriage if I must go through this every time I wish to be alone with my wife.”
	Her head snapped upward as she lightly slapped his arm. “Have no fear, my Prince. Our troubles here will seem less than an inconvenience compared to what I have planned for you.”
	“I shall try to endure, my sweet.”
	She laughed. “You are incorrigible!”
	“I know,” he said, glad at the chance to bring a genuine smile to her face. He leaned back on the sand, closing weary eyes against the constant glare of the sun. “If only we could lie here until dark.”
	Ra-May nodded. She wished they could also but looking at Michall’s wound told her it could not be. If they did not find aid soon...With a visible shudder, she forced her thoughts elsewhere.
	Tugging on his arm, she coaxed him up. He groaned as he labored to stand. Wincing, he resumed his position, leaning heavily on Ra-May’s slim shoulders.
	They continued forward but saw nothing ahead except the relentless beach, stretching its lonely, bleak nothingness before them.
	In time, their surroundings altered. They moved into an area framed by rocky cliffs climbing menacing to their side to hover high above them. Michall welcomed their shade, but their presence left him strangely haunted. ‘This is an ideal place for an ambush,’ he thought uncomfortably while scanning the cliffs. He didn’t intend to be caged if he could avoid it. ‘But how to avoid it?’ his fevered mind queried.
	The sun had ridden the changing skies to its end, its light fading slowly, struggling to remain the dominant force. He knew it was a useless battle and felt a kinship with its struggle.
	‘Soon it would be darkfall, and no help in sight.’ He lost himself to his morose thoughts. Moving woodenly, he became numb against the constant onslaught of pain.
	Ra-May halted sharply, swinging him harshly around to face the direction they had just passed.
	“What’s wrong?” he queried, puzzled by her behavior. Noting the confused scowl on her brow, he peered into the gloom. He squinted, narrowing his line of sight to a pinpoint, but his eyes only blurred from the intense effort.
	“Do you not hear it?” she asked. Her golden eyes sparkled in the twilight, reminding him more of a predator and less of his mate. Something was happening out there in the gloom, but what?
	Uneasily, he stated, “I hear nor see nothing. What do you hear?”
	She gave no answer. Instead, she stood strangely still, cocking her head at an odd angle while studying the growing darkness. Sweat, unrelated to the waning heat, wormed its way down his neck, causing him to shiver. He felt a growing heat race along his arm where he leaned against her, the hair there stood at attention.
	Her head swung around sharply, nearly snapping from her neck. “Flee!” she screamed as she pushed him back behind her.
	“What the...?” he stammered, trying to regain his balance. Refusing to run even if he had been able, he yelled, “Ra-May, what is happening?”
	He saw her arms stretch out before her as she ran forward. He witnessed tiny flicks of flame gather at the base of her fingertips.
	“Ra-May?” he whispered, his voice echoing within his head.
	A tremendous din surfaced, echoing loudly within and against the rock outcropping, creating a deafening scream that replaced the tedious stillness of moments before.
	He could only stare as a gigantic curtain of unrelenting, black water bore down on them. Its mass seemed inescapable, its height unfathomable. There in its watery depths, he glimpsed death.
	“Ra-May!” he shouted above the uproar.
	But she did not hear. Concentrating her power into a single arch, she raised her arms slowly to release a built-up charge. Lightning flashed before his eyes, ramming its fire bolt into the towering mass before them. The bolt forced the wall backward, but only a measure.
	It hovered before them, neither pulling back nor daring to creep forward. Restrained but not tamed. Its inhuman rage could be heard in its thunderous roar. Turning quickly, she ran to where Michall stood rooted and pulled urgently on his arm.
	“Hurry. We have little time ere the magic must release the demon. We must seek higher ground or it will devour us.”
	Too stunned to argue, he allowed himself to be lead away toward the rocky cliffs.
	“Michall, we must climb,” she instructed as if speaking to a confused child. “I know it will be difficult, but you must try!”
	He did as he was told, constantly looking back over his shoulder at the towering wall. He was sweating, but whether from fear or exhaustion, he did not know.
	The exertion forced his wound open further, and he could feel his blood running freely down his leg. His injury slowed them, leaving them prostrate to the thing below. He cursed his weakness and forced his body upward, denying his pain, his movements ruled only by his desperate need to climb ever higher.
	They had managed to reach midpoint on the cliffs when the unnatural roar once again sounded close at hand. Risking a look, he saw that the water was coming straight for them. Its frothing edges resembling sharp teeth, its murky depths imitated a hungry pit awaiting their capture...and demise.
	Relying on his arm muscles, he hauled himself further up the bluff. Ra-May pushed from behind, desperately trying to keep his injured leg protected. He slipped, losing precious ground as they slid downward. He managed to grab a protruding root, a small salvation that threatened to give way at any moment, and hang on with one hand while keeping a firm grip on Ra-May as she struggled for purchase below him.
	Calling upon strength he didn’t realize he possessed, he began to haul himself upward with Ra-May pushing once again from the rear.
	They reached a flat ledge and secreted themselves against the cliff’s rocky wall, its deep well providing temporary refuge. Heaving with exhaustion, they looked downward at their menacing, unnatural foe.
	“It grows,” Ra-May shouted above its roar.
	“It seems to be herding us,” Michall remarked in shallow, rugged gasps.
	Ra-May nodded but said no more. Once again he felt heat gathering near him. He watched with muted anticipation as Ra-May’s features grew drawn, her color waning.
	‘Whatever that thing is,’ he thought morosely, ‘it’s going to win in the end. All it has to do is wait us out. When we drop, it’ll have us.’
	“All this way, only to be drowned,” he mumbled and leaned heavily back upon the dank, slimy wall. A flash of light shot out before his eyes, making him flinch. It arced downward to once again find its target.
	‘How long?’ his fevered mind asked. ‘How long before we die?’
	Suddenly he was back-flipping into dark, moist emptiness. Ra-May, wrapped in her magic, tumbled ungracefully backwards after him to land heavily upon his stomach. His breath left him in one big whoosh. Bursts of light flared before his eyes as white hot pain surged up from his leg. The fight to remain conscious became a hard fought battle.
	“Michall, stay still,” Ra-May warned. “There are others here with us.”
	The hole above them hissed shut, sealing them securely within what appeared to be a narrow, hand-hued tunnel. From without, they could hear the force of the water as it attacked the hidden door, smashing over and over again against the cliff face.
	“You are safe now,” a soft, lilting voice floated out from above them. “The water vixen will pass over us, confused by the leap its prey has taken. If you are ready, I will take you to a place of safety. Come, follow me,” the melodious voice sang sweetly.
	Michall sensed others near. He tried to think. He couldn’t hope to fight and win. He had little choice, he had to trust them.
	The tunnel remained unlit, and he found himself blinded, a condition his guides didn’t seem to share.
	“I hope,” he whispered softly into the murky shaft, “that whomever saw fit to save us has not already decided our fate.”
	Ra-May pulled him close. Softly, her voice registering her weariness, she said, “Aye, and I hope that whoever they are, they will allow us a small measure of rest before putting us through any further trials.”
	His lips produced a sad grin to play across his pale face. Whispering softly, he said, “I, too, feel the same. Let me at least rest before I die. That is my only wish at the moment. In truth, I haven’t the strength to fight off even a fly.”
	She nodded but wasted no energy on an answer, the effort would have been costly.
	With Ra-May once again serving as his crutch, he allowed himself to be lead forward.

Chapter Thirty-three 
Ruhtra

	“Now what have the fates dealt our hero and heroine?” the Storyteller asked. “Do you think that they will be allowed a moment of peace before they are forced to fight yet again?”
	The children nodded their heads. One small child raised his hand. The old man assented and the child asked, “Will they live, Grand Master? Will they ever see their friends again?”
	“Ah, excellent questions, my lad. Shall I answer them now or do you wish to wait until next eve to begin anew?”
	“No,” came their protests. “Please, do not stop now. We want to hear the rest of your wonderful tale.”
	“And so you shall. Settle back my young and eager hopes.”
	In the prevailing silence, he drew in his breath and released it with a resigned sigh. He had no choice but to remember...it was part of the price he had agreed to pay, cursed forever with the memories...

	...Mikam surveyed the poor excuse for a village sprawling before him, his lip curled in undisguised disgust. A crowd had gathered, dirty and unkempt, to stare at him as he paced.
	“Nothing,” he shouted at his Captain. “Nothing, and no one knows anything -- nothing except their wild stories of sorcery and demons. Bah!” he declared, allowing his contempt to boldly season his speech. “Some how, some way, Michall has taken leave of this place in a hurry.”
	He looked toward the only evidence provided that proved that his son had indeed ever been there. Walking toward the beast, he reached out and let the stallion nuzzle his hand. The action calmed him, giving him a since of familiarity.
	He looked to the other horses as they whinnied, their restless pawing of the dirt telling him their condition.
	Mikam whispered softly, “Yes, I know you try to tell me your tale, but I am unable to hear it.” His nerves felt raw. He wanted answers to this puzzle...and soon!
	The stories he heard were wild, steeped heavily with the teller’s fear. Something odd had happened here, but Mikam didn’t know what he believed. Tongues were willing to wag even without the offer of coin. But oh, what they spouted.
	He hadn’t wanted to believe any of them at first, but now some inner instinct whispered that he should. The fear in their eyes was genuine, their haunted stares giving silent testimony.
	He shook his head. Their tales were so inconceivable that they bore the ring of truth; a great storm consisting of crashing lightning, screaming winds, darkness blanketing the village, and his son and his companions swept up and away.
	“Away...where?” Mikam asked aloud.
	“Sire?” Hendricks queried.
	“Hum? Oh, nothing.” Mikam gathered the reins of the neglected mounts and handed them to his Captain. “I’ve heard enough. Take the horses and make ready to depart.”
	“Where, my King?”
	“West! We will continue to move west. Something tells me I will locate my son beneath the setting sun.”
	Michall had mentioned water lands in the west. Mikam knew of only one area that could be called a water land.
	“We ride to Sol!” the King ordered as he mounted his stallion and headed out. “For your King and for your Prince!”
	Captain Hendricks waved the troops forward to depart in a cloud of dust and a whirl of shooting gravel and dirt.
	‘Let them eat that!’ Hendricks thought and then laughed. Leaning low over his mount’s neck, he urged the beast to greater speeds.
	His King still chose not to explain what was happening and why they were forced to ride at such an exhausting pace, but Hendricks had known Mikam long enough to guess at his silence. His King was afraid.
	Hendricks pondered the villagers strange stories. This wasn’t to be a simple ‘errant child’ run. Michall and Phillip appeared enmeshed in something that spoke of magic. A thing that he, a mere soldier, found hard to comprehend. He hoped he survived the wild chase across the countryside -- his curiosity needed to be sated.
	The maddening charge continued. Mikam growled and mumbled to himself, but no other offerings came. Rests were brief, food was eaten in the saddle, and time inched ever forward.
	Hendricks stayed with his King. There was no need to track ahead -- who could track the wind?
	They no longer traveled the main paths but instead rode straight across the land, zigzagging here and there, but always heading due west. Mikam had said that the quickest route was in a straight line and, no matter how impossible, that is how they rode.
	Cycles blurred, and everyone was near total exhaustion before  Mikam finally called a halt.
	“Rest well, my men. Half a cycle is all that I can allow. My mind will not ease until I have reached Sol.”
	The weary soldiers dismounted, barely stopping to pull off their gear and tend their mounts before falling down upon the ground, exhausted.
	But Mikam could not find peace so easily. Standing apart, he watched the sun blink out in the western skies -- skies he longed to be under.
	His Captain laid a large, calloused hand on the King’s shoulder and stood silently by. Mikam looked up, desperation lurking in his unnerving eyes. To Hendricks he seemed at the moment less a king and more a frightened child.
	Night sounds pierced the formidable solitude of the encroaching darkness. Normally Hendricks preferred the open surroundings of nature, its settings a balm to his soul, but this cycle he took no pleasure in the calls of the night birds nor the drone of the tiny insects that flew in the dusky skies. The sun would soon wink out, and, for the first time in his life, he feared not seeing it rise again.
	The silence lasted a deafening span. Finally, Mikam, his head hung, drew a deep breath and turned away. He paced off a few measures before stating in a calm but fragile voice, “I know what you’re wondering, and rest assured, I haven’t lost my mind...only my son.” His head hung wearily down so that his chin rested dejectedly near his chest.
	His words pierced Hendricks heart. “Mikam, I don’t understand what’s happening. Tell me,” he pleaded. “If I understood, then maybe I could help. Do you really believe Prince Michall is in Sol?”
	The King sighed, “I hope so. To think of other possibilities would drive me insane.”
	 “We will reach Sol. Of that fact I’m confident. I prefer to think we’ll also find the prince there,” Hendricks stated.
	“Yes, we’ll reach Sol. I know this tiny fact. As to whether I’ll find relief or further pain remains to be seen.”
	Mikam threw his hands out in a gesture of frustration, then cinched his fists tight before walking away.
	Hendricks meant to leave him to his solitude, even turned to depart, but was brought up short by sounds issuing from his right. He rotated, turning dark, questioning eyes upon his King. Mikam met his stare, his eyes wide and brows held high. Then he nodded.
	Hendricks moved cautiously through the foliage, his King following.
	Staying safely within the lengthening shadows of the moonlight, they moved nearer to the sight, closer, and then close enough to make out the faint sparkle of many fires lining the outer edges of a large encampment.
	A woman’s laughter rang out, rippling the otherwise still air. Hendricks raised a brow to Mikam.
	Mikam shook his head. Whispering softly, he answered the unasked question, “No, I don’t think she’s the girl Michall left with, the music of her laughter was very different.”
	“Do we move closer or do we return to camp?”
	“Closer. I would see just who it is that shares our tiny section of reality.”
	They kept to the shadows. Soon they could make out dim shapes passing by the fires amid much laughter and merry making.
	Mikam pointed toward huge wagons that lined the perimeter.
	Hendricks smirked, “They are Gellaies.”
	“Gellaies?” the King asked.
	Hendricks motioned for Mikam to pull back and follow him. When they had retreated a safe distance, he paused and leaned against a tree. “Yep, Gellaies, a traveling band of wanderers who call no place home. Home is anywhere the wagon rests.”
	“My Grandmother says that they possess the gift of clairvoyance and travel in search of the wisdom from the ancient worlds.”
	“If they do possess this gift, then perhaps they can tell me of my son,” Mikam asserted.
	Hendricks, staring at him, added quickly, “I never really believed the old tales Grandmother told. I believe that she believed them or thought she did, but she also claimed them rife with wizards and witches!”
	Mikam’s next words confirmed Hendricks fears.
	“I would talk with these people!”
	“But the world has rejected their untrustworthy kind!” Hendricks sputtered. “They took to the road long ago to escape their own deaths. We should stir clear of them!”
	“I’ll not be turned. I must find my son, and if these people know a way to help me achieve that, then I will talk with them,” Mikam declared, every inch the King now.
	“Then I will alert the men.”
	Folding his arms stubbornly across his chest, Mikam glared at him, but Hendricks could be just as stubborn.
	“It would do us nor Michall no good if they attacked us while our backs were turned. We should have an ace in the hole just in case.”
	Mikam begrudgingly gave his consent. “Go then and tell the men to stand by. The sooner you go and return, the sooner I can talk to these people.”
	He waved him off, his attention trained once again upon the distant camp fires.
	Hendricks made his way cautiously back to their own camp and quickly roused the men from their hard-earned rest. They were grumpy and unwilling to cooperate at first, but the Captain barked his orders, glaring them down as he repeated his commands. They followed, although reluctantly.
	No sooner had the men arrived, then Mikam went strolling toward the Gellaies camp.
	Hendricks snapped orders and the men took up protective stations, encircling the camp while remaining hidden from view.
	‘The King might not be thinking clearly,’ Hendricks thought, ‘but I’ll be damned if I’ll play the fool.’
	With the men secreted away, he rejoined his King. Moving with stealth, they made for the circle of wagons. They had just stepped within sight of the first when they were hailed by an unseen sentry.
	“Declare yourselves or go no further!” the unseen watcher advised.
	Mikam stepped forward and bowed. “We are nothing more than weary travelers hoping to beg a meal and a place to shelter through second cycle.”
	The Captain wasn’t surprised by many things, but Mikam’s present actions caught him off guard. Standing with his mouth agape, he thought, ‘It was true. Sometimes you could teach an old hound.’
	A torch was lit but held in such a way as to blind any who tried to see its bearer.
	“Step into the light, strangers,” came the voice again.
	Mikam bowed low, seemingly nothing more than a passive traveler, a fortification to his lie as he moved into the glare of the raised flame.
	Whispers ensued from the darkness. From above the murmurs, one voice overpowered the rest, barking, “Give entry!”
	Again the Sentry spoke out from the haze, but now he made himself visible. He was a stout, young man, dressed in gay, colorful silks. A long knife without benefit of a sheath hung at his side, its edge honed smartly, the metal winking at them as if to say, ‘Aye, tempt me’ canceling any thoughts that here was an easy mark.
	Nodding for them to follow, the Sentry escorted them toward the central fire pit. As they passed other smaller pits, they were met with the silent stares from the dark-eyed Race that sat about them. Their gaze was unnerving, causing Hendricks to involuntarily shiver, but Mikam boldly met their stares with unblinking, royal scrutiny.
	Of one Race, they possessed dusky skin that looked as soft as a downy lamb, the color elusive but hinting at hues created by supple, worn leather. Their dark, mellifluous eyes were at odds to the multicolored clothing that they wore.
	Never having seen others like them, Mikam dared to hope, ‘Perhaps they really can aid me.’
	He turned his eyes away from them only to meet those of his escort. The man had the same intense but beautiful orbs of his clan. Huge and full of expression, open but sealed tight against invasion.
	Mikam’s heart leapt to his throat, lodging painfully within to steal his breath away. ‘Michall’s eyes possess the same dark, brooding stare, the same emotional depth, and the same ability to reach my heart.’
	The old King faltered in his steps, immobilized by the sudden intense ache he felt. Hendricks, noting his distress, gripped his elbow securely.
	Without Hendricks aid, Mikam feared he’d have fallen to the ground, wrapped stiffly in an anguish that acknowledged the similarity of the dark alluring orbs while knowing they held no love, only a reminder of those that had.
	They reached the fire without further incident and were directed to sit within the circle. Then each was handed a bowl filled with a rich, steaming stew and prompted to eat. Mikam nodded, accepting with equal amounts of pleasure and gratitude. He wasn’t hungry, but he didn’t think it wise to insult them or belie his story.
	As he ate, he watched from beneath the cover of his lashes those sharing the fire pit. To his surprise, they ignored him completely. Although puzzling, it encouraged him to study them candidly.
	They didn’t look like witches or wizards to him or at least what his mental images of the words called to mind. He admitted with a slight chuckle that he really had no idea what one was suppose to resemble, but he felt no threat from these folks.
	He took note of their well-worn clothing, the hues pleasantly faded, the fabric thin and threadbare. Their faces, with those marvelous eyes, carried the lines of hard living. He felt a deep sorrow well up from within himself and was surprised at his sudden compassion for a Race he’d only just met.
	‘Had circumstances forced their lives or had they bent things to suit their wants?’ he wondered. He didn’t know, but he suspected they lived as they did only because none would allow them a place to lay down roots.
	He shuddered. He didn’t think he would enjoy living such a life.
	Growing melancholy, his thoughts turning dour, he looked down to the bowl in his hands. Cowardliness drew his eyes away from the others, but his conscience wouldn’t allow him such an easy escape.
	Raising his eyes, determined to face his own inner conflicts, he was surprised when his stare met with the bold stare of another. He couldn’t pull his gaze away, locked to eyes that penetrated his soul, seeing more than he wished to share.
	Then the other turned away, releasing Mikam from the spell that held him. He shuddered and put his bowl down before his shaking hands betrayed him.
	Hendricks turned questioning eyes upon him, but Mikam only shook his head.
	His curiosity piqued, Mikam’s attention returned to the stranger.
	‘Now this one looks like a Wizard,’ Mikam mused. ‘Resembling all the old childhood tales, complete with long robes and wizened skin.’
	Hendricks had not missed the strange looks that passed between his King and the man nor had he missed the fact that he wore robes embroidered at the hem with the symbols of an ancient order.
	‘Before me sits a man of magic,’ Hendricks nodded as if agreeing with his own assessments and realized that the admission unnerved him.
	The man in question turned toward them, his stare stroking them from across the fire. He was old, much older than Mikam thought a human could ever become. His hair hung long and loose, trailing in a thin straight line down his back. It was gray or near white, but at the crown there were hints of the glory it had once sported. His eyes were fascinating, sharp and penetrating, completely out of place within the wrinkled face.
	They had the look of a light, pale moon or possibly that of a blazing sun. He couldn’t decide which best described their uncharacteristic light as they shone with a luster that defied explanation.
	The old man rose stiffly, wobbling capriciously on frail, shaky limbs and carefully moved around the circle, ending his trek in front of the King.
	Gently, as if his bones would snap, he lowered himself down to sit beside Mikam. Hendricks watched without reaction, not immune to the charisma emanating from this man.
	Having finally adjusted his frail frame in a comfortable position, he turned and gifted them with a warm smile. He extended his hand, and Mikam took it hesitantly.
	“I am called Ruhtra, Wizard to the Gellaies. You are called?”
	“I am Mikam, King of Doran,” he answered honestly. “I have come to find my son, Prince Michall.”
	Mikam heard Hendricks’ sharp intake of breath.
	There came no reaction from the Gellaies. In fact, their lack of surprise suggested that they’d known the truth all along.
	Ruhtra smiled and patted Mikam fondly on his arm. “It is good that you have come. We will aid each other.”
	Mikam’s head snapped up to glare at the man. Ruhtra only laughed. “Let me explain, and then, it is for you to decide if we will become mutual benefits.”
	The King only nodded, gesturing for the old man to continue. He didn’t trust himself to speak, afraid he would stutter like an old fool if asked to utter a single sound. The old man was having an odd effect on him.
	“I, too, search for someone,” the old man explained with a rich voice laced with vibrant tones -- tones that belied his physical appearance.
	“And who might that be?” Mikam asked, finally trusting himself to speak.
	“I search for a young maiden by the name of Ra-May.”
	Mikam’s only reaction was a raised brow.
	“I can be of use along the way,” Ruhtra explained. When Mikam remained silent, the old man seized upon it and quickly explained, “You are searching for your son, and I sense that the girl I search for is with him. If we work together, we may both find what we search for.” Folding his hands within his billowy sleeves, he bargained, “If you will but take me with you, I will repay you with my protection.”
	Mikam stared openly. ‘Did the old man really think he needed his protection?’ He swung about, wanting to demand proof of the man’s purported abilities but quickly thought better of it and chose instead to look at all the angles before he let his temper get the best of him. Shrugging, he caught Hendricks’ eye.
	Silence entered the camp as the two men talked quietly, heads bowed close for privacy. All eyes turned, trained to them.
	Turning back to face Ruhtra, Mikam nodded, “You may come along if you wish. I have no reason to deny you.”
	Once his decision had been made, he told the Wizard what he knew so far of the children’s travels. Starting with the odd happenings in Carrie and moving quickly forward to the present, he ended with his own speculations as to their whereabouts.
	The Wizard sat still, choosing to listen only. When Mikam finished, he whispered, “It is time.”
	Hendricks looked on skeptically. Then addressing the Wizard, he said, “I’m worried for you, old man. The pace our King sets is hard and grueling. I fear you’ll not bear up well under the strain of such a journey. Wouldn’t it be wiser to remain behind and let us bring this girl to you?”
	“You have no need to worry for my health, although I am grateful for your concern. I will not slow you nor will I complain of the pace.”
	Mikam patted the frail man on his bony back. “I will hold you to your words. If you fall behind, there you’ll stay.”
	“Aye, there I shall stay, and you shall go on, with or without me. Have no fear. I shall stay ever near your side.”
	Mikam leaned over to Ruhtra and asked, “Is it true then that these Gellaies are able to see into the mists of enchantment?” When Ruhtra raised questioning brows his way, Mikam quickly explained, “I would like to see my son’s face and be assured that he is well.”
	“They cannot aid you, King Mikam. I am the only Wizard among them. They would pretend the skill, but it would be only a false hope. The Gellaies are a good people but sadly forced to trick others for their livelihood.”
	Crestfallen, Mikam turned his face away.
	“Do not fret so, my new friend. I will show you what you wish to know. Did I not say that I would lend my craft if you agreed to take me with you?”
	The King turned hopeful eyes upon him. Ruhtra smiled, the fire in his eyes blazing with mutual excitement. Nodding his head, he directed Mikam’s gaze toward the fire. “Be warned, my friend -- what you see may not please. It is the ‘here and now’ that will be shown, and mayhap it is not what you expect.”
	Mikam nodded but kept his eyes riveted to the flames. He feared no warnings or cryptic omens blowing in on ill-winds.
	“Then look...look and see the face of the one you long for. See into the eternal flames of time and behold the child who is thine.”
	Ruhtra pointed toward the flames. A bolt of blue flame escaped his emaciated hand and drove into the pit with lightning speed. The flame in the pit struggled to remain true to its original orange and red but quickly lost the battle as the magical flame gained strength. The bolt from the wizard’s hand turned bluer and strangely solid. It wrapped a spectral cord around the flames, lassoing the hot columns, and gathering them close to its steely body...joining it and forcing the flames to evolve.
	An explosion erupted from the center of the pit, forcing everyone back several steps. When the flares fell away, the pit resembled a mirror of sorts...a polished reflection of the countless ages of time...the fire transformed into cold, clear ice.
	Ruhtra placed a firm hand on Mikam’s shoulder and drew him near. “Look, mortal king. Look into the eternal flames and see what you have come so far to witness.”
	Mikam peered solemnly into the smooth surface formed of bluish orange flame. Drawn to a swirling within its center, he had no choice but to concentrate his gaze there. From deep within the whirling core the vision took shape and grew, expanding outward, reaching toward the edges of his sight.
	“Michall?” he whispered.
	The image in the ice was pale, so pale that it frightened him. Michall appeared beyond exhaustion. Huge dark circles burrowed beneath his eyes. He saw his son was hurt and needed help. That  much Mikam understood. What he didn’t understand was what had happened and knew he wasn’t going to be shown...‘Just the here and now,’ Ruhtra had said.
	He stood helpless and stared at the scene swimming within the icy plains of the once hot blaze. He watched as his son’s eyes grew heavy and his head fell lethargically to his chest. His pulse quickened as Michall lost consciousness and slipped into an uneasy sleep.
	Mikam stood by, fists clinched tightly at his side, unable to halt events. He saw hands reach for his son, gentle, bodiless appendages that stroked Michall’s pale forehead.
	Then Michall was lifted, but he couldn’t see by whom. He was only granted the sight of his son, anyone or anything about him was lost in the hazy edges of the magical mirror. Others were with him. He could only hope they were friends.
	The vision folded inward, narrowing itself down to a single view of Michall’s pain-riddled face and then winked out of existence. The ice melted, and the fire leapt up to take its place. The magic was gone, leaving only a fire pit and Mikam, foremost and above all, shaken to his very core.
	“We must leave now!” he shouted to his Captain. “Go and gather the men. We ride once again like the wind.”
	Hendricks bowed and left at a brisk gait. Whatever the King had been shown, it was not favorable. He made haste to gather the men.
	“Can you be ready to ride before the moon soars to last-point?” Mikam asked of Ruhtra.
	“Ah, surely. I am ready now.”
	He nodded to the man who had lead Mikam and Hendricks into the camp. The man nodded back and then turned, disappearing quickly behind the nearest wagon. Mikam watched him go but thought little of the exchange between the two. If they had meant him harm, it would have happened long before now.
	The man returned leading a magnificent beast by an exquisite, intricately woven rein. The animal was like no other mount that Mikam had ever seen; golden and beautiful, powerful but delicate, defying any earthly explanations.
	Both mane and tail were long and lustrous, flowing gracefully down toward the ground, both claiming the same wondrous golden hues. Seeing the animal was like witnessing the sun on a spring cycle; light, airy, and warm.
	Upon its back was strapped a saddle of soft leather with ancient hieroglyphics carved into the hide. Each symbol matched one on Ruhtra’s robe. If there had been any doubt to its owner, the matching symbols banished it.
	Gold had been carefully worked along the outer edges of the saddle. Even the fine reins were graced with the glittering, golden workmanship.
	Accepting those reins, Ruhtra called the Gellaies to him. “I must take a different path, one that will lead me far away. I thank you my kind companions for the aid you have given when I had desperate need of you. For your faithful service all will be rewarded. I promise. Great sadness mars my heart as I bid you farewell.”
	When he finished, they surged forward, from the tiniest of tots to the oldest of their tribe, reaching out to touch him. Some cried while others merely nodded and turned away, but all shared in the departure.
	It was a scene Mikam would not easily forget.
	‘Perhaps,’ he thought. ‘Perhaps I can do something for these poor people? I must remember to search for an answer to their problems once I have solved my own.’
	When the moon slid its timid head past midpoint and made way for the weak light of a new cycle, Mikam gave the signal to move out. The birds sang a farewell salute as the troop left the clearing and maneuvered their mounts toward the western skies. Ruhtra smiled as their sweet music touched his ears. Their beautiful call had been denied him for a long time. Darkness hardly ever permitted beauty to invade its domain. He was glad to be imbued within the light once again.
	Mikam spurred his mount to greater speeds. The promise of racing with the wind was fulfilled. Soldiers groaned, and horses fought their bits in exhaustion, but it did no good. The pace was set, and they would keep faith with the wind whether they wanted to or not.
	The old man rode along on his exquisite mount and smiled as the wind touched his cheeks. He would have no trouble keeping pace with them, but it appeared that they might not keep up with him. He smiled. He could aid them.
	Pulling his hands from his robes, he whispered, the sound soft and private. A small trickle of his magic flowed away and out toward his new companions and their mounts. He watched as lines eased from wearied faces, and horses quickened their steps.
	“Aye, I will be a great aid to you, Mikam. You do not know it yet, but I will aid you in reaching Sol on time. You must, for it is important that you do -- that we both do.”
	He turned his amber eyes toward the road and let his faithful stallion have its head. “Soon! Soon I shall have all that I have asked for. In a short while, the wrongs shall be set right, and the past will be understood. I shall hold the faiths in my hands and mold them into what they should have been all along...”

	“...Well, isn’t it interesting that Mikam has a new traveling companion?” the Storyteller asked. “Yes, and a Wizard at that!”
	He looked out into the crowd and smiled. It had grown, all waiting expectantly for him to continue. It was good to see so many earnest faces yearning to hear his tale.
	He drew a breath and said in a quiet, retiring tone, “King Mikam was puzzled by the old Wizard. Remember how he wondered about the man’s abilities? Yes, I see some of you were paying attention. That is very good. Very good, indeed.”
	He let his gaze flow once more through the crowd. When he caught a glimpse of fair, sun-kissed hair, his heart skipped a beat.
	“Well, it would not be the only time that the King would wonder about the strange old man.”
	He smiled, his thoughts deep in the past.
	‘...Listen, and I shall be reborn,’ he thought wistfully as he continued where he’d left off. His raspy voice the only sound wafting on the breeze...

Chapter Thirty-four
Awaken

	He smiled, an upturned grin eluding to knowledge not shared.
	The skies above blurred in a constant dance of contrasts -- from the blinding light of the first cycle to the deep, swarthy darkness of second -- as they continued their inhuman ride. No rest was granted and none asked, even when consumed with exhaustion.
	At least he had managed to fulfill his part of the bargain. His tiny nudging spell had relieved the men of their fatigue and managed to keep their proud hides in their saddles. His secretive grin widened into a smile. “It feels so good to be needed again.”
	Ruhtra tested his grip on the reins, finding it strong. He felt the joy bubbling from within and threw his head back, filling the air with rich laughter. “My old strength returns with each passing cycle. It is welcome.”
	Feeling the wind rush by his face, Ruhtra’s sensations thrilled. Nature gave its gifts, reviving its creatures in many ways. He was rejuvenating, renewing and being set free...but there had been a price. He had accepted, agreeing to the demand because it had been the only course open to him. He held no regrets.
	A night bird called out to the riders from its hidden retreat as they pushed onward. The stars above winked in a welcoming fashion, dotting the otherwise dreary sky with their cheery light.
	The air, still thick with first cycle’s ebbing warmth, was begrudgingly giving way to the cooler breezes of the approaching darkness. On an eve such as this, he had awoke from his long slumber. He remembered...
	...Opening tired, neglected eyes, he looked around in muted confusion. “Why am I here?” were to be the first words that passed through his dry throat and escape over cracked, ancient lips in many, many phasings. Raising a bone-thin hand to a fevered brow, he tried to recall why he was there and who exactly he was.
	Gathering his thoughts about him like a protective cloak, he made to rise but found his body inhibited by weakness.
	He lay upon a stone slab positioned within a shallow cave. Through the foggy webs of his mind an idea or a necessity announced itself, forcing him to recall the reason for this awakening.
	A voice had called, nudging him until he had heard and responded, reminding him of his duty -- his purpose. His stiff, brittle body had reacted to the summons even before his brain had registered the decree.
	A sliver of moonlight disrupted the darkness of his vault -- and vault it was -- telling him the cycle but not the era. He stood on trembling limbs and tried to enlarge the hole. What small amount of strength he possessed soon fled, forcing him to lean heavily on the stone slab. His mind swooned, spinning his vision out of control. He drew a shaky breath and fought the dizziness that threatened to topple him. Once controlled, he tried the hole again.
	Clawing at the crack, he managed to widen it enough to view the land without. He was surprised to find so little change yet everything so different. He sensed the passage of time, the changes it had fashioned, and knew, with some trepidation, that his wish had been granted.
	He felt tired, wearier than he had ever felt in life. He reached behind him and felt for his slab. Once found, he inched toward it and collapsed.
	His shriveled hands shook with his anxiety, warning him that he was not up to his task.
	The voice came again, soothing and reassuring, “Do not worry, my son. You are again walking the land, and with each step, your power will renew. Each new sunrise will bring you closer to the one you once were...”
	...The voice had spoken the truth. He looked down to his hands and smiled. He saw muscle renewing, skin regenerating -- glowing with the promise of youth. He was able to sit tall, ride proud, and rejoice with jubilant energy.
	He brushed a pale lock of hair from his brow and grinned. It was no longer the dry and brittle white of decay but now near its old texture and glorious fullness. Throwing his head back, he felt the wind run willowy fingers through his golden locks. In response, they danced merrily in its grasp. He let his mind slip backwards once again...
	...He remembered falling into a deep trance and the magic wrapping its protective veil about him. He recalled the feel of the hands upon him but had been unable to respond to their caresses.
	He heard again the death chants and the great ‘wail’ of the remorseful and had recognized his wife and daughter’s pitiful cries among them. He felt the swaying movement in his stiff limbs as he was carried forward. He had tried to rise and tell them he was fine. ‘Weep no more, I only sleep,’ he had thought, but his body had not complied.
	He had heard the voices retreating, the wails little more than an echo, and he remembered the heavy sound as a stone was slide into place, its slow grinding heightening his panic. He had screamed, but no sound could escape his muted lips -- he was alone.
	He had quieted his mind and allowed the darkness to take him and slipped deeper into its deathly clutches.
	He slept undisturbed for many phasings, and then something penetrated the deep recesses of his mind, forcing him to take note.
	“They have returned for me!” his dulled mind screamed.
	Once again he heard the death songs and the wail of the mourners. He recalled hearing the sounds of struggle as if something heavy was being dragged forward. His useless body vibrated when the object was dropped into place.
	If he could have, he would have wept. The sound could only mean that his wife had passed and was being interred. Life for her was over.
	Once again surrendering to the call of the magic, he had slept. Phasings came and went as he lay in soft darkness. Winter winds sent their icy chill and he shivered on his slab. Springs brought gentle warmth and he sighed with contentment. Seasons came and went, and time marched steadily forward, and still he slept on.
	Down through the centuries he had slumbered, laying on a cold slab of stone...unable to die. He had felt his body shrink and grow useless, his limbs going taunt and brittle. He panicked, but it did no good. The magic was too strong to overcome. The nightmare was to continue.
	He had strange dreams, puzzling thoughts to plague his endless sleep, and then there were times that he was coherent and had sworn his mind was near awakening.
	During those rare moments of consciousness, he had heard voices passing near, but no one ever came to investigate his tomb. The seal was to remain intact.
	Finally, the time to end his long imprisonment had arrived. The voice had ordered his rebirth, demanding that he respond and finish what he had begun...so very long ago.
	He was instructed to rise and leave the shadow world of the tomb behind and walk once again within the light of the living. But obeying had not been an easy task.
	He had risen, and he had left the tomb, but the effort had drained him, his withered and near useless limbs refusing to cooperate. Exhausted, he had lain at the vault’s opening for several moons before being able to walk away.
	Finally regaining strength enough to stand, he began the long trek down the path leading into the valley below. The trail had not been used in centuries and was littered with rocky debris. In places, entire areas had washed away with the passing of time, leaving large gaping holes to hinder his already slow progress.
	It saddened him to see the visible evidence that he had been forgotten, nothing more than an ancient relic of a time long gone. He cackled a hoarse cough, his voice rough from disuse, and asked loudly of the open skies, “Why should anyone come here? Do any even recall that a King and Queen were entombed above their quaint valley?”
	He hung his head and trudged onward, intent only on placing one feeble limb in front of the other as he descended the ridge.
	Several cycles came and went as he labored down the hillside, but he had not worried. There was still time. He knew he could achieve his goals. He could reach the others before it was too late. He had paid the required price for the privilege of time.
	Reaching the lower ledges of the trail, he leaned heavily on a protruding tree branch to rest. Sinking to his knees, he buried his shriveled digits into the moist, cool grasses to keep from falling face down upon the ground. Breathing hard, his throat parched and scratchy, he looked wistfully about, longing desperately for a sip of clear, cool water.
	He saw the first pink rays of the sun rising in the eastern skies and sighed. The moisture in the ground jumped to greet the heat of the new cycle, creating an unearthly fog to encase him. He felt as if he walked the world of the phantasmal.
	‘Was the fog with its unnatural thickness being created to hide his passing from living eyes or was he being imprisoned in the emptiness of darkness yet again?’ He did not think he could survive another voyage into the realm of nothingness.
	He allowed a small shudder to rack his frail body and then rose stiffly, intent on continuing his descent, preferring to see the fog as a blessing of the Ancients, an act of concealment.
	He had not gone far when an odd noise reached his ears. The sound was amplified and thrown back at him from all sides. He paused. It came again but was followed by familiar thuds on the hard-packed earth.
	“Could it be?” he asked in disbelief.
	Perking his ears, he waited for the sound to come again. “Ancients, I am a grateful son.”
	From out of the dense mist trotted a miracle...a gift from his beloved father when he was young...his loyal stallion, Pesha.
	The horse had been his most prized possession, a well-loved friend. The beast’s golden mane flowed in the mist, flashing like a welcome beacon. He stepped near, rejoicing in the feel of its silky tresses.
	Upon its back sat the saddle he had been given in his youth, a finely crafted gift from his Race.
	“You wonderful, beautiful creature,” he sighed, patting its sleek neck. Tears of gratitude rolled freely down his cheeks. “You are a welcome addition on my journey. Now at least I shall ride on strong limbs instead of stumbling along on brittle sticks.”
	He managed to pull himself up into the saddle and allowed the horse to go where it wished. He was too weary to wonder at his destination. He remained confident that the ‘Voice’ would guide them.
	As he rode along on his phantom beast, he looked objectively at the land that had once been his home. It stretched before him, peaceful and sleepy, draped in silky veils of mist and dew. It was not the place of his memories.
	He raised his lined, ancient face to greet the rising sun, reveling in its warm, renewing rays. Sighing, he leaned upon Pesha’s neck, his weakness overpowering his desires to see the changes in the land. He was old. He was exhausted and could only hope that he was up to the challenges laid out before him.

Chapter Thirty-five
Silly Human

	His mood was black and had been for the better part of the cycle. He felt restless, edgy, and, most of all, useless. Unsettling emotions for one such as he. Try as he might, he just couldn’t shake the cloud of despair hovering dismally about him.
	He nodded absently at his companions as if to show that he understood when in fact he didn’t understand anything anymore.
	Phillip looked away, hiding eyes that reflected his staid emotions. He really didn’t like the turn the conversation had taken. He’d be damned if he was going to be lead around by his nose, dictated to, and counseled like some small child. What the others were saying really had no bearing on the situation.
	‘Why did they think that their plan was the only logical approach in finding Michall?’ he thought rather sullenly. ‘He is my kin after all!’
	His mood grew stormier, nearly uncontrollable. He shook himself violently, wondering, ‘What is wrong with me?’
	Ra-Nu noted his disposition. It would do his little friend ill if he continued to brew and fret. Thinking to draw Phillip’s attention elsewhere, he asked, “Tell me again, little man, of your adventures after the fight in that poor excuse for a village?”
	“We know that you have been away, much the same as we, but how and what you encountered in detail is what I am most anxious to investigate,” El-Cha added quickly, having witnessed the scowl that sprung to Phillip’s face. It would serve no purpose if they began to argue amongst themselves.
	Dryly, with his face pulled in a tight-lipped grimace, Phillip begrudgingly answered, “Now, our little journey was a bust. We found nothing enlightening or important. We returned empty handed with nary a thing to help in this little fight. Oh, but no matter, for you two were given all the information we’ll need. You know who the Del-a-Shar is and most importantly, how to defeat him.” Turning full to face them, Phillip spat with barely veiled sarcasm, “I’m afraid I can’t even begin to charm you with tales of greater feats!”
	“My friend, it is of importance. It may even be of more import than what Ra-Nu and I discovered,” El-Cha placated. “We related our tale not to make you feel impotent but to give you courage...courage for what we must face. Not knowing is the greatest fear, is it not?”
	Phillip’s clear, intense eyes stared at him. El-Cha thought he was reaching him. Somehow, he must reach further, peel away the layers until he discovered the fester within.
	He trudged onward, “In understanding what we must face, discussing our options among ourselves, we may come to terms with unfolding events. Whatever you witnessed, wherever you roamed, it is of import. This I believe most heartily.”
	Seeing Phillip’s shrug and eyes growing distant, he quickly strengthened his arguments.
	“Even if you think it unimportant, it could be that you just do not understand what to look for. It is possible that you have brought more back than you think.”
	“Nope. Sorry, dear boy. I can’t produce any revelations or any mysterious or shocking phrases to be dissected and understood. I don’t seem to be an essential element in this little play,” he snarled, turning his face away from the others, presumably finished with the conversation.
	“Little man, are you through feeling sorry for yourself?” Ra-Nu thundered. “If you are, I would like to hear more about where you three have been!”
	Phillip turned cold, blue eyes on the tall Elf, wanting to reply with all the callous, condemning acid he could muster but found the fight was leaving him.
	In defeat, he answered, “I had a rather nice visit with a charming but very distant kin and then was politely deposited here.”
	Shrugging, he turned to face them. “You see? Nothing of any value.”
	Torch flew in front of Phillip’s face and angrily snapped his fingers. Phillip tried to swat him away, but the Elf would not be detoured. With a moan, he met Torch’s stubborn stare. “What?”
	“Tell them about the letter, Human!” Torch demanded. “Tis time that you stop this nonsense and grow up. You are being very selfish, even for a human, and I will tolerate it no longer.”
	“Oh, you won’t, will you?” Phillip said with the beginnings of a true smile working at his mouth.
	Torch shook his head. “As I said, you are strange, Human, even for your species. Now, tell them more about where we have been and of the letter!”
	He danced his wings and folded his arms in an condemning stance while glaring at Phillip, his silence daring him to argue further.
	Phillip only laughed at the little flutterbug and gracefully succumbed with a bow to the greater power.
	“What letter?” Ra-Nu, standing in replica of Torch, demanded. “What did you discover, little man, and why do you choose to keep it from me?”
	“Us,” El-Cha corrected.
	Phillip was outnumbered. All he needed was for Tilly to begin to lecture, and he was a doomed man. He eyed her skeptically before saying, “In truth, I wasn’t trying to hide anything. It’s just that I reasoned that where we went and what happened there had no meaning on our present situation. Since we have returned, I doubt that the future will turn out that way.”
	“What letter?” Ra-Nu demanded tensely through a tightly held jaw, the veins along his neck becoming quite defined.
	Phillip smiled as he watched the large Elf wage war with himself. The mysterious melancholy that had enshrouded him was lifting, and he found his old self was returning.
	“Ah, let me see. Where to start? That is an interesting question and one I’m not sure I can answer,” he whispered as he sank down to the dry sand. “Let me tell you the tale again, and when you’re all done laughing, maybe we can go and find my kin.”
	Phillip related their adventure with much flourish and theatrics. He smiled fondly as he told them about Corty, saying, “Of course, a relative of Michall’s, several times removed.”
	Laughing, he lapsed into the wonder of the electric lights and snickered when he heard Torch’s aggravated huff. In reverential tones, he told of the mysteries of the Hall of Possessions, growing very solemn when he had to repeat the story of Michall’s tomb and how they’d destroyed it in order to return home.
	“I do hope he will understand the need to destroy his lovely tomb. I would never have done it if I had been given another choice,” he rambled.
	“Phillip, stop! You are not an oaf, and I would be most grateful if you would quit pretending to be. We are your friends. Do not diminish that loyalty by playing the part of a fool!” Ra-Nu scolded.
	He bowed his sun-bleached head in polite defeat. “You have discovered my secret, my friend. But, please, don’t tell anyone, I do so enjoy the role I play.”
	“So, what about this letter Torch spoke of?” El-Cha interrupted, his exasperation evident. He shook his head, thinking, ‘Sometimes Phillip can make even me lose my Elfen control.’
	“Yes, the letter. It was addressed to me. Can you believe that? All that time it was gathering dust just waiting for me to claim it. Anyway, it was from Michall.”
	He paused to allow his words time to register. He did so love a stage. “I opened it only to discover that he was angry at me for leaving him behind. Michall demanded that I come home. And that, my friends, is just what we did. We now stand before you, safe at last.”
	“What else did this letter say?” Ra-Nu demanded, his jaw jetting forward in rigid stubbornness. His stern constance bore ill omens to come if he was not satisfied. “There is more to it than you have stated. This I am sure.”
	“Here,” Phillip said as he reached in his breast pocket. “I still carry the silly thing. You can read it and decide for yourself what it says.”
	Ra-Nu reached for the bundle Phillip offered and scanned it carefully. “I cannot read this. It is not in a language I am familiar with.”
	“What?” Phillip asked with genuine surprise. He took the bundle from him and scanned it carefully. “I’ll be stumped. I can’t read this thing either. But I did when I was with Corty!” he insisted. He looked at their doubtful faces and sighed, “I’ll just have to tell you the jest of it I suppose.”
	Tilly flew to Phillip’s shoulder, adding her silent support to his claims. Torch flew to his other side and folded his arms stubbornly. Nodding toward the letter, he insisted, “Tis true, I heard him speak the words.”
	“Thank you, Torch...Tilly. It means a great deal to me having you both verify my words.”
	El-Cha stood with his lips pursed in thought, then he too, sat heavily on the sand, pulling on Ra-Nu’s arm to join him. “It would seem that you must try to remember exactly what this letter stated. Then we can try to piece all the clues together and find our friends.”
	Hesitantly, Phillip agreed and recited what he could remember of the original letter. He wasn’t sure he could get the information right. It took some time, a lot of backtracking and many reminders from the two Fire Elves, but in the end he delivered a fairly accurate version of the original.
	Finished, he looked toward Ra-Nu who had turned his grim features away from the others to scan the water as it lapped lazily onto the ever-present sand. Phillip imagined the pain the gruff Elf must be feeling.
	“Aha,” El-Cha shouted.
	All eyes turned uncertainly toward him.
	“Look at this!” he laughed with excitement, pulling something from the bundle Phillip had deposited on the ground.
	“What?” Phillip asked, honestly confused by what El-Cha might have discovered.
	“This! It is some type of strange map. If I am not mistaken, it seems to be a rendering of the area we are resting in.” El-Cha smiled with open jubilance.
	“Let me see that!” Phillip demanded. He didn’t remember any maps within the letter. He took the wrinkled pamphlet from El-Cha and studied it thoughtfully. With a sheepish grin, he explained, “I’d forgotten about these. Corty gave them to me when we entered the Hall filled with possessions. She said that I might find them interesting.” He searched through the rest of the strange papers.
Only the one he held in his hand was understandable.
	“Why has this one item survived when the rest are unreadable?” he mumbled.
	“Mayhap because it is drawn. Its text remains unreadable, same as the letter,” the small Elf reasoned. “Aye, it is a map of this area, but it is confusing. We stand here,” he announced, pointing down to some faint mark upon the map, “but I see nothing of the roads that are indicated!”
	Phillip laughed. “They’re tunnels!” he whooped. “Corty said that Sol was riddled with underground tunnels out here near the water.”
	“What of this mark here down by the cove. What does that signify?” Ra-Nu asked, taking interest in the pamphlet for the first time. Phillip hugged him. Laughing, he jumped to his feet and danced a fleet footed jig around them, kicking sand all about.
	Ra-Nu eyed him oddly but only shrugged in reaction before looking to the others and demanding, “Who understands this mark?”
	“I think it would be a good place to locate. I believe X always marks the spot, don’t you agree, Torch?” Phillip giggled.
	Torch nodded as he gave the silly human one of his rare smiles. Phillip turned away and began to walk forward with purpose.
	Turning his head sideways, he shouted back to the others, “Perhaps our excursion into the future wasn’t such a waste after all.” His normal, carefree mood fully regained, he waved, “Come on, what are you all waiting for? We have a mission.”
	Ra-Nu watched him stroll off in the direction of the cove. He just could not quite fathom the man. Standing but reluctant to follow just yet, he turned to watch the waves as they washed against the sand in slow, deliberate strokes. “Phillip is like the tides before me...always shifting things about, always changing. He is my enigma.”
	Torch brushed past his ear. “You mean more a silly, strange human, do you not?” he called over his shoulder.
	Ra-Nu nodded, “Aye, a strange and wonderful human.”
	The one in question heard their exchange and grinned broadly. He was feeling so much more himself. ‘What a wonderful cycle it was turning out to be,’ he thought as he ambled down the beach. He turned and yelled, “Come on! Time’s wasting!”
	The others moved to follow the steps of their silly human companion...

	“...Silly he might be, but he seemed to be onto something very important,” the Storyteller advised his audience. “He really wasn’t the silly human they thought him. He was just unable to show his true, frightened feelings. Phillip was a survivor, a fighter...but sometimes others didn’t understand him.”
	“I understand him, Storyteller,” came a soft, lilting voice from the crowd. “He is a man of great emotions, harboring tender sympathy toward his friends.”
	The old man raised weary eyes to the voice, cursing the weakness within them that would not allow him to find the one who spoke. But he knew the voice, or had, once upon a time in an era where he’d once been young, healthy, and scared...

Chapter Thirty-six
Sheltered

	Michall’s head was spinning and he couldn’t feel the floor beneath him. He tried placing his good foot firmly on the ground but failed, his senses abandoned him to embrace the blissful darkness that filled his confused mind. Wrapped tightly within its allure, he sank gratefully toward the cool embrace of the tunnel floor and the welcoming reprieve from constant pain.
	He could hear Ra-May’s voice calling out, but he couldn’t raise his hand to calm her. He felt icy fingers trail along his brow but could do no more than mumble.
	“He is fevered. We must hurry!” snapped an unremembered voice floating far above him.
	‘Hurry where?’ his disconnected mind wondered.
	“Girl, here. Grab his arms. We have no time for tears.”
	“Ra-May,” he tried to say. “Ra-May, why do you cry? I’m fine. I only need to rest a moment...just a moment.”
	He heard her soft sobs from far away and wondered why she wouldn’t take the reassurance that he offered.
	Rough hands grabbed his limbs, lifting him away from the soothing moisture of the ground. He wanted to protest, “Leave me be!” but realized in a dreamy sort of way that no one would bother to heed his words.
	Pain was buried somewhere in a faraway reality, and he slept at peace within a cool, soothing dream world. Nothing dared penetrate the protective veil as he floated tranquilly beyond reach. Vaguely, he wondered if he’d died and thought it odd that he didn’t care.
	‘Just let me stay here, free of pain, free of worry. I’m so very weary.’
	Huffing with the strain of his weight, Ra-May prayed silently as they moved forward. ‘Please, Crystal. Please protect him. He must be well -- he must!’
	The ground began to slant downward, causing her to nearly lose her footing.
	One of their number paused and called back to her, “It will not be much longer.”
	Ra-May nodded, wasting no breath on speaking. She knew they were able to see the movement.
	‘I hope their home is not as dank and dreary as this tunnel,’ she thought dismally. Aloud, she whispered near Michall’s ear, “Do not worry, beloved. We will soon be safe.”
	Her escorts halted suddenly, causing Ra-May to nearly drop Michall. She heard one of them snap an order and felt rather than saw another move away. Hearing a bolt slip back, she tensed.
	“Come, we are home,” the presumed leader suggested.
	Ra-May drew a shaky breath and followed them through the opening only to emerge into a massive underground cavern filled with blinding yet blissful light. As her eyes adjusted, she noted that they were surrounded by formidable, slick rock walls that towered above them.
	The unnatural light seemed to come from these walls, trapped somehow within the rocks that pitted the sides. It was the most spectacular sight she had ever witnessed, her Elfen vision able to make out even the tiniest ornamental detail of the spectacle surrounding her.
	The elegant carvings ran throughout the place, scattered with carefree abandonment. Nature was rampant in the delicate vines, dainty floral and bountiful foliage that threaded skyward in an eternal dance toward the domed ceiling.
	Finely crafted stars and large orbital globes dotted the ceiling, shining down upon statues chiseled from white, rough stone. Their ghostly parlour -- created by unknown hands...hands that polished and smoothed the stone to a silky shine -- stood silent watch above the cavern floor, crying out to her with an air of ancient pride.
	She knelt, clutching Michall’s hands within her own trembling grasp, staring in childlike, openmouthed awe at the sights that stretched out and away from her.
	Having lain Michall down on the ledge when they had entered the cavern, she had sank gratefully to the ground beside him. Carefully, she smoothed the moist, sweat drenched hair from his fevered brow. With her worry for him dulling her normal curiosity, she had failed to look upon her saviors and once catching sight of the majestic beauty before her, had not wanted to gaze away.
	Now after seeing their world she had to have a clear sight of those who called it home. She dared a curious glance. When her stare met that of another staring boldly back, she smiled weakly.
	She made to rise, but the other quickly stated, “Rest. I have sent word. Soon your male will have the attention he needs.”
	Ra-May sighed, “My name is Ra-May, and he,” she said as she looked worriedly down upon his pale features, “is Michall.”
	“It is glad we are to find you. I am Mist, your guide while you remain here. I will be your eyes.”
	“Thank you. It has been a long while since I have heard such kindness. We are very grateful for your help,” Ra-May answered tentatively.
	Mist nodded and turned from her to silently scan the trail that wound downward toward the cavern floor. With her head turned away, Ra-May took advantage of her unguarded moment and studied her openly.
	The girl was not of a Race that she knew, but, she laughed, ‘I am not exactly well-traveled.’ Ra-Nu had taught her many things about many Races, but these people were a puzzle.
	Mist was exotic, possessing a pale, blue-green hue to her skin that only managed to add to her beauty. Her hair flowed down her back in rippling, wavy tides of light blue curls, the type of blue that one witnessed on a spring cycle after a sudden storm -- a cleansing blue. Woven amongst the heavy strands were odd-sized shells and strange white jewels.
	Her eyes shown brightly, the deep, green hues hinting to secrets that Ra-May could only guess at. When she spoke, her voice was like that of gentle, cascading water as it flowed over small, pebbled, creek beds, the tone, soothing and calm, brought to mind memories of her own forest home.
	Mist stood rigid, motioning to someone on the trail below. Ra-May watched as her movements floated carelessly on the air. Tall and graceful, she moved as if she was submerged in water. Her body refused to acknowledge the confines of land, preferring instead to move free and lithesome.
	Michall stirred and moaned, pulling her attention away from the rare being. He opened his eyes to find Ra-May bending near. He gave a weak smile and tried to rise.
	“Lay still, you will only injure yourself further,” she warned.
	“Where are we?” Michall croaked through parched lips. His head swarmed, blurring his vision.
	“I do not know, but it appears that we are safe for now. Rest!” Ra-May ordered.
	Michall reached for her hand. “So expertly pushy now that we are wed, I see.”
	Groaning, he attempted to pull himself into a sitting position but found he was still too weak to accomplish it alone. “Help me sit up. I need to see where we are.”
	She pushed on his back until he was in an upright position and then pulled him near, lending him her support. Cradling him with her arms, she smiled as she witnessed some of the same emotions that she had felt earlier cross his face. Then he frowned.
	“Where are we?” he asked as he tried to see beyond his blurry vision, even as he cursed the ailment that left him impotent.
	Peering into the valley below, he tried to view everything with the eyes of a hunter. He noted the many beings moving below him but could make out no distinctive features except their sex.
	“Where are the males of this clan?” he asked.
	Ra-May looked at him uncertainly. It was something that she had not thought to wonder. It gave her pause. Michall pulled himself up further, grimacing from the pain and leaned heavily against her chest. His features visibly paling further while sweat poured from his brow.
	“Ra-May, I am unable to help. If these beings prove dangerous...”
	He left his sentence unfinished, leaving the implications to hang between them in a pregnant silence. Turning his dark eyes full upon her, he allowed her to see the fear shining there.
	She lay her cheek gently down upon the top of his head with a sigh. Looking down at his pale face, she grimaced.
	“Soon they will make you well, and all will be fine,” she reassured. “We will come to no harm, so do not worry.”
	“Sure, everything will be fine, but until I’m well, promise me you’ll stay near!”
	She nodded. She would have it no other way. She was not about to leave him unattended when there where so many enchanting females about.
	Feeling queasy, he leaned his head back and moaned. He knew he was about to black out...back to the place where pain could not touch him. Yet he was reluctant to go. He fought to remain alert but couldn’t win against his fevered body.
	Surrendering, he closed his eyes, but a noise jarred him back to painful awareness. He felt strong hands lifting him, and he had no energy to protest.
	Ra-May could be heard cooing soothing murmurs, but she could not hide her rising agitation from him. Seeking his mate, he opened his eyes only to look instead into the eternal eyes of the ‘Angel of Death’ come to collect his soul. He was not yet ready to surrender to the shadows.
	“Calm yourself, male,” the angel above him whispered. “We mean you no harm. We are taking you to a place where you will be attended.”
	“Have no fear,” continued the vision. “We are here to aid you.”
	She gently stroked a pale blue-green hand across his brow. He jerked away from the icy cold that met his brow.
	She smiled knowingly as she raised her hands in peace.
	That is when he saw the webs between each finger.
	She spoke again, but he couldn’t understand the words. They flowed from her mouth and bubbled outward on the air like a soft, gurgling spring. Whatever she said, the others immediately acted upon it and began to carry him down the trail. He had no choice, he was accompanying them whether he wanted to or not.
	He felt a reassuring hand on his arm and reached out weakly. Squeezing Ra-May’s hand, he whispered hoarsely, “Do not stray from my side.”
	For reply she squeezed his hand harder.
	They entered a cave cut deep into the cavern wall and moved steadily deeper into the interior. Ra-May blinked, her eyes filling with admiration.
	The floors were made of polished marble, shining brightly with the same luminous light that blinded her outside, but here it had been subdued.
	‘What strange magic do they possess?’ she wondered in silence.
	They were ushered into a chamber off the main hall and instructed to remain there. Their escorts soon left and had not been gone long when several new females entered the room and began to fuss over Michall. Ra-May hovered protectively near, watching as they went about the art of healing.
	She could hardly believe what her eyes showed her as Michall’s wounds began to reverse their damage, and normal color flowed again to his face. The strange females had done no more than hover over him while speaking in their strange gurgles. She had sensed no magic.
	When she heard the even breathing of peaceful slumber, tears of gratitude sprang to her eyes. She turned to thank them and was immediately set upon.
	“His leg is still in need of care, but for now the danger has passed. You, child, are in need of the healing touch, too. Sit beside the young male and let us restore your strength.”
	It was more an order than a request.
	“Have no fear. You are safe here!”
	Surprisingly, Ra-May believed them. She surrendered to them and soon found the deep, restful sleep her body had long been denied.
	A knock on their chamber door awoke her. Her eyes snapped open. Wiping long hair from her eyes, she looked about in momentary confusion, then released a sigh when she remembered where they were. But concern soon creased her brow as she sought out Michall.
	His breathing was steady. All strain was removed from his strong features. He slept peacefully, his dark mane spread out in wild disarray across the silken linens, his shining locks upturned in wavy, riotous curls created by his prolonged fever. The darkness of his hair was in direct contrast to the stark white that cushioned his head.
	She reached down and gently removed an errand lock that trespassed over closed eyes.
	‘How like a child you seem,’ she thought. ‘Soft and innocent in slumber, unaware of the harshness surrounding you.’
	She wanted only to lie back down beside him and escape into dreams, but it could not be.
	Again the knock sounded, and she heaved a great disappointed sigh. A quick glance to Michall assured her that he remained incognizant to the sound, still removed from the present. He would recover, and she was grateful to these strange beings for their aid, but still she cautioned herself to remain weary.
	The knock came again slightly harder and clearly impatient, the unknown visitor on the verge of demanding. Deciding to leave Michall -- at least for a while longer wrapped in his healing dreams -- she rose slowly, catlike in her manner, toward the door.
	Mist stood rigid within the portal awaiting entry. Her manner suggested courtly but formal attendance. Annoyance appeared momentarily in her eyes before she gained control and concealed her emotions.
	Ra-May was surprised at her demeanor, very different from the young, sympathetic rescuer of before.
	‘Or had it been more than one passage of the sun?’ she started.
	She had no idea how long they had slept. She drew a hand unsteadily to her brow, puzzled that she should feel so confused. Time was an understood state, an inherent characteristic within an Elf’s mind. How could she doubt that the sun had taken only one ride through the skies? Her body knew it to be the truth, but her mind questioned her instincts? Something strange was happening to her and she did not know how to resist it. Confusion haunted her face as she motioned for Mist to enter.
	“I trust you slept well?” Mist inquired. She turned her head toward the still form on the bed.
	Ra-May answered curtly, moving to shield Michall from the others view. “Aye, quite well, thank you.”
	Mist swung back around, assessing her with eyes that seemed to see all and miss nothing. Smiling a slow, knowing grin, she bowed her head slightly, “You are asked to attend our Queen in the receiving room. I have come to escort you.”
	Ra-May nodded and turned toward Michall. “I will be but a moment, I must see that he is well.”
	“You both are to accompany me,” came the command.
	Ra-May thought that it might be unwise to argue. She shrugged and began to nudge Michall’s arm. “Wake up, my heart. We must go and thank our hosts.”
	Michall moaned and tried to turn away, but Ra-May refused to give him peace. After much prodding, he finally opened his eyes.
	“How do you feel?” she asked, searching his face for any hint of lingering pain.
	“Like I’ve been dragged by horses!”
	Sighing, he rose to a sitting position and tested his muscles gingerly. Finding them sore but otherwise sound, he swung his long legs to the floor. With great caution, he let his weight fall on his wounded leg. There was pain, but it was better.
	Noting Mist standing silently by the door, he nodded a greeting. She smiled in response.
	“We have been summoned to an audience with their Queen. Do you think you can manage?” Ra-May asked.
	“I think so,” he grinned, turning soft brown eyes her way. Winking, he shrugged and added, “I’ll require your shoulder, but I can make it.”
	He rose and draped his arm across her slender back. With a weak grin, he nodded that he was ready. “Lead on. I’ve little choice but to follow.”
	Ra-May’s critical stare studied him, noting his pale color and the slight sheen of moisture glossing across his brow and above his upper lip. Her frown deepened, but she remained silent, choosing instead to offer him her shoulder. Wrapping her arm about his waist, she motioned that they were ready.
	Mist lead the way, maneuvering down the very same halls that they had been brought through when they arrived. This time it was Michall who did the gaping.
	Ra-May only smiled, understanding his wonder all too well.
	They turned from the main hall and were directed to enter into another enormous chamber. This one perfectly round with long, wide tapestries adorning polished walls with elaborate carvings stationed beneath each delicately woven cloth.
	Michall let his eyes roam the chamber in slow, purposeful appraisal, taking in each detail. His interest kept returning to the colorful tapestries. All the caricatures, created by some unknown yet highly skilled hand, were of the same group of beings. He could only assume they were that of a family. The very nature of the scenes suggested members of a close-knit group performing normal tasks.
	‘Yes,’ he thought. ‘Scenes of a families history proudly displayed for all to witness.’
	He was full of unasked questions and wanted to ask Ra-May what she knew but had no time. A curtain at the far end of the chamber drew back, revealing an older woman. She held herself with an air of regal status, leaving little doubt as to who she was.
	Her appearance was much the same as the other natives they had seen, yet she assumed an air of knowledge that the others had not possessed. Her eyes held a deep sadness -- a sadness that transcended the chamber, piercing him with its sense of grieving hopelessness -- speaking volumes of untold tragedy and a deep loneliness.
	Watching her glide across the floor, he understood the differences that set her apart from the rest. She was a leader by right not by birth. There was no arrogance in her stance, no smug righteousness to mar her rule as was the extreme in inherited rule. Michall thought of his elder sister and let his gaze fall. ‘Would she rule Doran with the same dignity that this Queen possessed?’ He could only hope.
	“Please, seat yourselves,” she requested, motioning to others for chairs to be brought near. “We know that you are uneasy. No harm shall befall you while you are with us. We are safe from the Dark One who lives above as long as we remain within the bowl.”
	Her words startled them, causing uneasy glances to be exchanged.
	“Now,” their hostess stated, waving her hand in the air. Turning, she smiled at them, not noticing their shared visual exchange. “You will relax and rest your weary minds. Believe us when we say you are safe. We wanted to introduce ourselves to you. We wished to meet you personally.”
	She eyed them with cool, green eyes as she casually crossed her long legs, the soft swish of her silk skirts echoing loudly in the quiet chamber. Folding her hands in her lap with a practiced ease, she continued, “We think that we have many questions that we would like to ask, and if your answers satisfy our curiosity, we will answer yours.” Her tone, although casual, suggested they would be wise to cooperate.
	Michall only nodded.
	“Excellent! We are most pleased. We do not receive many visitors. Let us first ask your names and for what purpose you have come?”
	Michall deferred to Ra-May but was met with only stony silence and the top of her downcast head. He shrugged, puzzled by her behavior. Ra-May was rarely at a loss for words, and her sudden shyness was unnatural in the extreme. He turned his attention toward the Queen and sighed in capitulation, knowing that his mate’s behavior would keep his thoughts divided.
	Not understanding why, he told her all...from the beginnings of his childhood dreams to his actual meeting with Ra-May. He told of his friends, their quest, and of the Del-a-Shar they came to destroy. He sighed, saying that he had no idea where his companions were and how he was most anxious to have word of them. He eyed her hopefully, but she only shook her head.
	He’d never spoken so much in his life nor with as much passion and unconcealed emotions. He wanted her to understand their cause, their determination, and to understand that he meant her and her Race no harm.
	Finished, he sat back and waited. She could believe or not. He’d done his best to convince her they were against the Del-a-Shar. If she were aligned with the creature, then Ra-May and he would die. It was as simple as that. He was resigned to let fate take its course.
	The Queen tipped her brow to him before turning to a maiden standing quietly behind her. They conversed in their strange flowing language, and then she nodded again and the maiden turned and left.
	Her actions, coupled with Ra-May’s continued silence, caused unease to creep into his soul. He found it odd that her curiosity hadn’t overwhelmed her, causing an avalanche of questions to flood the chamber, exhausting Michall and anyone else who had the misfortune of being near.
	He studied her still form. His uneasiness grew. ‘Was she ensorcered? Had she been bewitched?’ He knew he wouldn’t feel the magic nor recognize the user if she had been. That admission frightened him.
	He bent his head toward her. In a whispered tone, he asked, “Are you well?” and was met with a curt nod...nothing more.
	The Queen spoke again, dividing his attention. “We are to assume that the maid who sits beside you is of this Elfen Race? The same maiden that you have described to us in your story?”
	Michall nodded. ‘Although she isn’t acting much like her now,’ he thought. He took Ra-May’s limp hand within his and answered, “Yes, she is the Princess Ra-May of the Royal Houses of Ra-Jee and Doran and my beloved wife.”
	He gazed upon her bowed head and smiled, liking the sound of her title. Yet her body remained as still as her tongue.
	“We are happy to see that you honor her so highly, our young Prince. This shows us that you have a strong sense of commitment. We say that this is good. None shall argue. You have satisfied us with answers to our questions, we now deem it fitting to answer yours. We judge you worthy.”
	Michall needed no further coaxing. In a head long rush he began to bombard her with his own demanding curiosity.
	“I want to know where we are? Then I would like to know your connections to this so-called Dark One...is he friend or foe? And I would like to know what has happened to your men? Where are they that they’re not here with you?”
	She laughed at the flow of words that escaped his mouth.
	“So young. We find you refreshing.” Then, holding her hand up for silence, she stated sincerely, “All good questions, and although they pain us to answer, answer them we shall.”
	“First, our name. We are called Queen Morning Dew. We rule the Race known as the Blues, the inhabitants of the water lands of Sol. Our Race prefers to live within the seas, but unfortunately it has been denied us. We have lived here for as long as we care to remember.”
	“We were forced to inhabit these caves, driven here by the evil that is the Dark One. It pains us greatly to admit we are a Race of cowards, yet it was the only choice left us.”
	Michall bowed his head but didn’t interrupt. She nodded her head in thanks.
	“Many, many moons gone now, the Dark One came to our lands, his magic great. Our men fought bravely, trying to fend off the attack, but it was useless. His magic was too great. He captured them and even now holds them.”
	“In fear and in desperation, our Race fled to these caverns beneath Sol. Here an ancient spell shields us. No evil may enter this place, for it is holy. It was the only protection we had, and we ran to it. He cannot invade this Keep. Though he has tried, all attempts are turned back. Here we are safe.”
	She paused, turning troubled eyes upon him. Silent tears fell unheeded. “Our mate, King Roaring Waves, and our beloved sons, Princes Winter Storm and Spring Shower, had their own skills turned against them. Now they are trapped in a nightmare that they may never awaken from. We still have our daughters, but we forever mourn.”
	She looked away, great tears escaping her huge, blue-green eyes. When she looked again upon Michall’s face, she had recovered some of her former dignity. Nodding to an area directly behind him, she stated proudly, “Ah, excellent! Here are our daughters now.”
	She swept her hand gracefully toward two lovely, younger versions of herself as they glided into the chamber. “May we present to you our children, the Princesses Rain and Brook?”
	Ra-May and Michall bowed their heads in unison as they rose to greet the two maidens. One, possibly the younger, cooed, “Oh Mother, he is handsome, a fine specimen.” She carefully scrutinized Michall’s tall frame; her two-toned eyes boldly devouring him while silently promising pleasure.
	Softly, as if she purred, she placed a hand possessively on his arm and pulled him near, “Let me escort you on a tour of our home. I would consider it an honor, and I promise it would be most entertaining.”
	He had been elevated to a status that he had no liking for. The reality was that these young maidens had no men, and he was the only one about at the moment.
	Phillip passed momentarily through his thoughts. ‘Oh how he would enjoy this situation.’ And though a mental picture of his kin’s crestfallen face was amusing, it did nothing to ease his weariness or his embarrassment.
	He frantically searched his mind for a way to turn the maiden away without giving insult. Ra-May certainly wasn’t offering any assistance.
	‘What was wrong with her?’ he wondered yet again.
	Fortunately for him, the Queen intervened, saving him from further embarrassment.
	With a stern look and a sharp tone, she ordered her daughters to be seated. Then, turning apologetically to Ra-May, she supplicated, “Our forgiveness is begged of you, Princess. They are young. There is no need to take insult. They are nothing more than harmless children.”
	Ra-May kept her head bowed at her chest. She spoke not a word, only nodded.
	Michall desperately wished to pull her off to a secluded area and beg her to tell him what was wrong. She wasn’t acting as he knew she should. The demure and somewhat sedate Elf beside him was a poor imitation of the Ra-May he knew.
	If the Queen took insult, it went undetected. She immediately continued her narrative, her delicate hands flowing smoothly through the air. The fine webbing between her fingers unfolded to fan the air, creating soft breezes that wafted about them as she warmed to her subject.
	The pale, blue hair crowning her oval face bounced animately, forcing her to push its heavy length from her small, rounded shoulders.
	Michall mentally compared her movements to one adrift in the water. She literally floated upon the air, graceful and smooth, slow and mysterious.
	Repeatedly, with little effect, he tried to manipulate the conversation in the hope of piquing Ra-May’s interest. His efforts were rewarded with stony silence. In desperation, he even entertained the notion of flirting with one of the princesses but quickly dismissed the idea. That path lead to only disaster...his!
	Ra-May’s self-imposed wall was hard to breach, but he was a determined man. He became totally preoccupied with her. He chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip while the Queen’s voice droned, imperceptible in the background.
	Then, without warning, he witnessed a physical and animated reaction from Ra-May. He forced his attention back to the conversation.
	“The Dark One,” the Queen was now saying, “had an interest in using us because we are able to bend nature to allow us to ask the water to do our bidding.”
	Ra-May’s head snapped up, the first true interest she’d shown since entering the chamber. Her eyes sparkled with intense curiosity, and her mouth pursed, ready for the avalanche of questions Michall knew would come.
	‘Here at last is my Ra-May,’ he sighed.
	The Queen had not truly looked upon her face as yet, only noting the sudden movement at her side. Courteously, she asked, “Have you a question for us, my dear? Please...” but stalled when the full intensity of Ra-May’s golden orbs engulfed her.
	Expelling shaky breath, the Queen pointed a weary finger in Ra-May’s direction. Michall rose, alarmed by the look upon her face. Leaning heavily on the arm of a chair, he placed his body as a shield before Ra-May even as he cursed the wounds that left him somewhat useless. Silently, he stood guard, wishing Power was reassuredly at his call and waited for events to announce themselves.
	Understanding came quickly on the heels of the Blues reaction to his mate. Ra-May had been purposely hiding her features from them since entering the chamber. Why? He could only guess.
	The question that remained to nag him was why these three reacted so oddly at the sight of her face when the other Blues they’d encountered had barely taken notice?
	Undaunted, Ra-May continued. Something had caught her interest, and she was not about to let it slip away without explanation. “You control the water?” she blurted out.
	Nodding, the Queen spoke in a revered tone. Michall noticed the change immediately. Before the tone had been regal and self-assured, but now it was near subservient.
	“We are most pleased to finally be honored with your presence, Golden One. It is an honor to have you in our home. We have prayed for a very long time that you would come. We see now that our prayers have been heard.”
	Continuing with a nod to Ra-May, she said, “But why did you conceal your charms from us when we have been waiting so very long for your arrival? We welcome you with open arms. Do not fear our intent.”
	Ra-May studied her face, her own puzzled expression speaking volumes. Michall, no longer sensing emotional upheaval, sank thankfully back into his chair to become all but forgotten by the others.
	He felt detached, as if he now floated above them and watched the scene with spirit eyes. He was like an invisible wraith, unseen and unnoticed, and was grateful for it.
	His nerves had been stretched taunt, near snapping, since entering into this Royal audience, and his reserve of strength was depleted. He wished to remain invisible, secure within the small void, free from eyes that probed for treachery. Invisible, it was safe for him to examine them.
	He had never known a Race such as they, nor had Ra-May, he was sure. If he was able to place a wager, he would bet that none of his companions knew of this Race, including El-Cha.
	‘How could these ‘Blues’, as they called themselves, know that we were coming?’ he wondered. ‘Based on the Queen’s speech, they’d been waiting longer than he and Ra-May had even been alive.’
	Claiming no ties to magic, he could only wonder. He didn’t understand the strange invisible net that entangled them, or the reasons it fought so hard to hold them.
	Apparently, these same thoughts had been running through Ra-May’s mind, but unlike Michall, she had no trouble vocalizing them.
	He shrugged, thinking, ‘Now that she has found her tongue, I wonder if I’ll be able to quiet her again?’
	Her voice was steady as she demanded, “Just exactly what are you telling us? How could you know that we were to come?”
	The Queen laughed, easily accepting their skepticism without losing any of her own faith. Her laughter was like a soothing balm. Memories of a brook, bubbling softly over tiny pebbles, resounded within his ears. Her voice created visions of gentle, rolling tides, running headlong to unknown destinations.
	“We have always known of you. That is why we sent our guards to watch the entrances. That is why they were there to deliver you unharmed from the Water Demon that threatened.” She spoke with a matter-a-fact calmness, unconcerned that they might not believe her. She believed, and that was enough.
	“You were foretold long ago. Our own Seers pledged that we would know you by the sun that lived in your eyes.” She nodded in Ra-May’s direction, her knowing appraisal clearly conveying her feelings. In her mind, she looked at proof of the prophecies, seeing in Ra-May hope for the future and finding again a renewal to a faltering and possibly forgotten faith.
	“Seers told of the aid you would give in our moment of deepest despair. Begging us not to lose faith, they spoke of all that would come to pass, warned of the horrors we would endure before you came amongst us.” Motioning to her daughters, she drew them into her embrace.
	Smiling weakly, her pain apparent, she whispered over the pale, blue luster of her offsprings heads, “We witnessed the tragedies just as they predicted, and we waited for our ‘Savior’ to arrive, but you did not come. We endured, trying to keep faith, but it became hard. We had all but given up hope...until we looked upon your face. Now we feel renewed. We offer our grateful assistance, however we may, to achieve our mutual goal.”
	Ra-May turned troubled eyes to Michall, their watery depths pleading for answers, but he could offer her none. It seemed inexplicable that so many had foretold of their quest, making him wonder anew at the inconceivable motives of magic and how it affected them.
	He remained intrigued but more than a little scared. He was not a creature of magic, and his lack of knowledge chilled him. Why were they, or at least Ra-May, so very important to so many? Why had this Del-a-Shar cast so many lives into perpetual darkness? He didn’t know, but he vowed he would find answers.
	The Queen’s voice shattered his thoughts. Not knowing what she had asked, his embarrassment became complete.
	“My Prince, we see that we have discomfited you. Please, if you will follow us, we will show you what our words fail to express.”
	Confused, he nodded for her to lead on. Once again finding himself reliant on Ra-May’s strong shoulder, they left the chamber and moved deeper into the caverns.
	Traveling along a wide corridor, they moved further into the caves. Here they saw life being carried out in much the same manner as Michall was accustomed to. Servants went about their various tasks, unheedful of the intrusion. Many cast curious, sidelong glances their way, but none showed alarm that they were there.
	He noted that the chambers became less ostentatious and much more serviceable the deeper they moved into the interior. Here he suspected was where the true living took place. The other more elaborate vestiges occupying the outer caverns gave the feel of being from some other time -- relics of an age passed perhaps. Within these simpler, smaller caverns, the Blues appeared to carry on their daily lives.
	Ignoring the many offshoots scarring the walls of the main corridor, the Queen proceeded onward. From time to time, she would point to one of the smaller tunnels and explain where it lead, but her steps never hesitated as she moved swiftly along. Michall found that he was hard-pressed to keep pace.
	Finally slowing, she turned and beckoned into a dismal offshoot. Unlike the main corridor, this tunnel was dank, and the air was stagnant, smelling musty and old. The dust, raised by their intrusion, told Michall that this particular tunnel was used sparingly or possibly not at all.
	The Queen removed a brand from a wall bracket, requesting that it be lit before going further. Michall was grateful for the request.
	Once the torch flared to life, she bid them forward. Cobwebs hung thickly from the chiseled ceiling, reaching out and snatching at his hair. He brushed them away cautiously, not knowing where the owners might be lurking.
	Dust motes swam in the stale, dank air. He fought to keep from coughing while the tiny spores launched an attack upon his throat. He hated the smell that assaulted his senses. Wherever the Queen was leading them, he hoped they would arrive soon.
	An abrupt halt was called and Queen Morning Dew asked that they remain where they stood. She offered apologies for the wait but wished to make the chamber presentable before they entered. Ra-May nodded and the Queen handed her brand to them before disappearing beyond its ringed glow.
	Michall leaned his head down to rest his chin upon Ra-May’s shining mane. He nuzzled the softness and sighed, “I was afraid that I had somehow lost you.”
	She turned to face him. Searching his dark, worried eyes, she asked, “How so?”
	“I thought you bewitched and lost to me forever. I didn’t know when my...how shall I say it,” he smiled teasingly, “talkative, overzealous Ra-May...had somehow been stolen away. I didn’t recognize the maiden that sat beside me.”
	She laughed, poking him playfully in the ribs. “I was only being cautious. I feared more for you than for me.”
	“Me? I was in no danger,” he protested.
	“You may not have sensed it, but I did. I feared that once those two male-hungry females arrived I would have to fight them to get you back!”
	“Ha,” he retorted a bit too loudly, knowing she struck too close to his own fears. Pretending offense, he protested, “I, my dear, am not Phillip!”
	Drawing her close, he reveled in her nearness. He was satisfied for the moment just to be alive with her safe beside him. Growing serious, he whispered against her cheek, “You could never lose me, Ra-May. I’m yours -- heart and soul. It’s I who’s been bewitched.”
	She sighed deeply, the sound sad and wistful.
	“And truthfully, if I know Phillip, and I do know him,” he stressed, “he’ll eventually find this place. He seems to have a sixth sense when it comes to females. He’ll stumble upon us soon enough, trust me.”
	She nodded but said no more. The light mood they had shared had fled, leaving only nagging doubts to fill its void. They waited in gloomy silence.
	Queen Morning Dew soon returned, floating down the hall toward them. Her form was eerily illuminated, framed completely by the darkness beyond -- a darkness that chilled him by its very obscureness.
	Waving to them as she drew closer, she invited, “Come, the chamber is now prepared. Soon you shall see with your own eyes what we have always known. Then you will believe.”
	“I’m not sure I believe any of this!” Michall muttered as they moved to follow the Queen.
	They were lead through yet another tunnel before emerging within a chamber lit with a single wall brand, its light barely defining the interior.
	Wavering shadows swam across the walls, looming large and ominous to those who looked on. Michall wished he had a torch of his own to threaten away those shadows.
	The area appeared to have been scooped from the ragged rock surrounding them, blasted instead of hand-hued. Here the walls were not smooth but jagged and sharp. The floor -- dirt -- was packed hard and amazingly smooth. No dust threatened his nose as he was lead across it.
	It was cool within, but any dampness had been vanquished, replaced with a pleasant, dry breeze. Michall questioned where the air flowed from. He’d assumed they were deep within the caverns but now thought perhaps they had climbed up instead of down.
	The chamber was unfurnished save for an alter placed along one of the jagged walls. Waxed candles propped beside it were lit to lend their hesitant light, giving the illusion of movement, bathing the alter in the soft, dancing glow. He wondered at its purpose...wondered what god received their offerings.
	Strange, archaic symbols were etched along the tiny edifice, things he couldn’t read, or ever hope to understand. He was puzzled that the Queen would bring them here to this lonely, isolated place but didn’t have to wait overlong for answers.
	Clearing her voice, Queen Morning Dew directed them to her side. She stood along one of the walls. It was decked with a large, velvety curtain that hung to the floor.
	“Now we shall show you our reasons for dragging our honored guests so far and with much discomfort.” She reached up and pulled on a silken rope hanging near and the curtain began to inch back, drawing outward along the wall. Michall could see that the surface beneath held a mural, but because of the dimness of the chamber, he could make out few details.
	Ra-May gasped, and he worried what it was she saw that his frail, mortal eyes refused to show him.
	The Queen clapped her hands regally...expectantly. From out of the walls, or at least it seemed so to him, torch bearers approached and shone brilliant light upon the painting.
	Then he, too, gasped.
	He shook his head.
	Someone had taken a great deal of time to draw the visage that shone down at them from the smooth texture of the hand-polished wall.
	Ra-May remained speechless, a condition that was fast becoming her natural state.
	Michall, denying the portrait that loomed larger than life before him, tried to study the thing with a logical mind. It resembled Ra-May, that he could not deny, but it was only that, a likeness and no more. There were differences in the maiden on the wall and the Elf that stood beside him...but not many.
	The eyes were the most compelling, being true to his own Ra-May’s. He stood staring at the thing, lost to his surroundings, being drawn within it to experience its beginnings -- its birth.
	He was afloat in another world, seeing all, feeling everything, but not really corporal. Once again he was as he had been within the Witches’ Wood, guided by an unknown, unseen hand, that pushed him into the astral plane.
	He knew himself to still be in the cave, but it was different, less a relic from a long forgotten past, it was now newly forged. About him he saw Mages or Seers, he wasn’t sure, speaking in unison to many gathered Blues. Among them he saw Queen Morning Dew, and beside her sat a male. By his composure and his regal baring, Michall could only assume he was her mate, King Roaring Waves.
	“A waste,” Michall murmured recalling his fate.
	Instinctively, he knew that he was witnessing the actual moment the old Seers had foretold about the ‘Golden One’ and how she would come to stand against what he called the Del-a-Shar, who would one cycle overpower and imprison them.
	This news caused much grumbling and disbelief. More so, because of the false confidence that they could defend against such an intruder.
	‘All for naught. If only they had heeded their Wise Men,’ he bemoaned. The words sounding false on his lips as he realized he, himself, had failed to heed others. ‘Perhaps I should listen to my own counsel once in a while.’
	He turned to view the entire chamber. The altar had not been so plain then nor so lifeless. It shone with a power, illuminating the cave with an unnatural brilliance. The platform was animated, a window that opened to another time. It showed visions of a great struggle...a struggle for life and death and the outcome left indiscernible.
	Here, lost in this otherworld, he saw the fate of the male Blues. Here he witnessed the fate of yet another Race...and the sight chilled him.
	The Seers from this long gone era knew the Del-a-Shar and understood his motives, but Michall could only glean snatches of the import of what was being shown. He didn’t have the understanding, or their memories to guide him. He was adrift and remained confused.
	Not for the first time did he curse his so-called gift -- a gift to see along the timeline but without the gift of understanding needed to do anything productive about it. He wished El-Cha were here.
	Ra-May’s voice drew him back, pulling him down a hazy void, forward to the present. Shaking his head to clear away the last dregs of his strange daze, he turned his attention to his mate.
	“Michall, do you see? That being to the left and below the larger picture there.” She pointed, drawing his eyes toward the image. He shuttered as he looked upon the face...a face he didn’t know, but somehow did, and turned his head away.
	“Who was that?” he heard Ra-May ask.
	“That,” said the Queen with disgust, “is the Dark One we hope to destroy.”
	“But he is Elf!” Ra-May protested. “How can the Del-a-Shar we seek be Elf?”
	The Queen gave no reply, only shook her head. She knew the cost of disbelief.
	Michall looked again to the image and quelled his nerves in an effort to study it closely. “Yes, he seems Elfen. But changed, not quite like you or our fellow companions.”
	“I do not understand. If he is the Del-a-Shar, why is he hiding here? Why not within Ra-Jee where Elfen power is supreme?”
	“Why not, indeed?” Michall echoed. An idea had begun to formulate, but he chose for now to remain silent. He would have to ponder the questions presented here, analyze his momentary vision of the past, and then discuss it later when he was alone with Ra-May. Here was not the place to show doubt. He wasn’t sure, but somehow he felt that the Del-a-Shar couldn’t survive in Ra-Jee because of the very reasons Ra-May named. The power there was supreme...the domain of the ‘Gold’ and the Ancients.
	“But,” Ra-May asked in confusion. “What does all this mean?”
	“We only know what we have been shown. We know our men live but are enslaved. Yet we know not where. We know that you are the ‘Savior’ our Seers spoke of, and we understand that we must do everything within our power to aid you.”
	“But how can I hope to defeat him? He is Elf...”
	“We!” Michall inserted, not letting her finish her sentence. “We will defeat him together.”
	“I have so many questions, and no answers come my way. What of my Race? What has happened to them?” she whispered.
	“We know of your Race, although we did not have a name for them before,” the Queen sighed.
	“What do you mean?” Ra-May demanded.
	Michall’s vision lashed mercilessly before his eyes. He feared how Ra-May would react to the words he knew the Queen would speak. He looked at her pale face, dreading her answer.
	“Their spirits provided the Dark One with great power. It is not a pleasant picture that we create, but it is the only way we know how to say it.”
	“How do you know all this to be true?” again Ra-May voiced her mind. Michall prepared himself for the heartache that was sure to come.
	“We know because once, a long time past, one of our males escaped. He told us of the horrors they were forced to endure. He spoke of such atrocities that at first we could only doubt, much as you do now. But we eventually came to believe him. His description of the horror was too real, too knowing.”
	“We are ashamed to say this, but it is our true feelings. Thanks be to Tobina, our God, that although enslaved, our males do not suffer the tortures visited upon others who were held there...those others we now understand were Elf.”
	“This male, you say he survived? May we speak with him?” Ra-May begged. “Would he allow us to question him?”
	“We have already said we will aid you in whatever way we may. We will summon Tidus and command that he hear you. He will be honored by our attention and the chance to help our Race.”
	“Tidus?” Michall contemplated. Looking directly at Queen Morning Dew -- silently asking when, hoping she understood the need in his eyes even as he wondered where they hid this elusive male.
	“We will send ahead for Tidus, but for now you must rest. You are weary. Please allow us to see to your comfort. Come, we will return you to your rooms and then send you a Healer. We will not allow you to come to harm within our realm.”
	Ra-May hesitated. Studying the image before her, she tried to memorize the face that they named Dark One. At last, she turned, although reluctantly, to follow the Blues as they guided once again through the depressing tunnels and toward what she knew was her preordained destiny...

	“...It was a sobering thought. Chilling and sobering for the both of them, my children. For remember, Michall was involved in that destiny, too. To what extent, no one understood. Now what, my children? Now what, indeed!” whispered the Storyteller, his voice holding an edge that had not been there earlier.
	With a wave of his hand -- a wizened, yellow appendage -- he alerted them to his power...the power to hold them all in sway, captives to his words. “Now what, indeed?...”

Chapter Thirty-seven
Brother?

	Darkness was supreme. He floated within complete nothingness and was content. The opaque void caressed, effortlessly embracing him to its soothing calm, a blanket, a balm, to his tormented other self.
	While within the void he renewed, becoming once again more than his frail outer form could endure.
	He dreamed, and his visions disturbed him. He fought to return to the calming nothingness of the void but was denied. Slowly, as if his mind refused to comply, he pulled himself to the other plane -- to the land of the living. It was a battle hard fought, his sleep had not run its full cycle.
	What could pry so deeply, press so hard, that he was awakened? Something walked within his realm. Something dared to raise him before he was completely restored.
	But what?
	He shed the last dregs of slumber from his mind and scowled. His face, unaccustomed to reaction, cracked its dry skin in reluctant obedience. Stalking his small confines, he prepared his mind for the scanning of his domain. Gathering his thoughts about him, he knotted them tight. He would need them sharp and focused. Mumbling the incantation, he sent his inner eye in search of the disquiet.
	Outward his searching aura went, flowing effortlessly across his watery domain, spreading out, scanning wide, but all probes coming back empty...he could find nothing amiss.
	Furious, he retraced his long memory, trying to pinpoint the exact moment he felt the discomfort, back to the time his mind alerted him to the danger. It was elusive, but the knowledge was still a part of his subconscious. He concentrated, demanding it to the fore.
	The sensation was vague, and he was sure he had felt it before...but where? It would come to him as all things eventually did. He would nurture it and see what fruit it bore.
	He walked about his chamber, looking at artifacts from other lives -- other times -- and sneered, “Less important times it would seem.”
	The nagging continued. He paced. Whatever hounded him sent his ancient pulse racing.
	Suddenly, it surfaced. He knew the emotions, and he recognized the presence that had rudely interrupted his sleep. Strolling angrily to his tower window, he looked absently out upon the world that he alone controlled.
	“I have felt this presence before...and thought to never have to suffer it again,” he shouted, pounding a balled fist against the window sill. “You should be fodder for worms,” he sneered. “But if by some miracle you have survived the many phasings, then I shall finally be given the revenge I deserve. Your cowardly exit thwarted me, sent my blood to boiling. I will have your head this time.”
	He threw back his own head and howled, the sound echoing within the chamber, resembling a thousand souls locked in perpetual torment.
	Taking one last look upon the waters of Sol, he whispered, “I look forward to seeing the distant, frightened stares of the dwindling bloodline. That shall be most entertaining, at least for me.”
	He drifted away from the window, busy now with his plans.
	He turned and left his chamber, his thoughts imbued with demented plots, reviewing all the ploys he would use to welcome his long, lost brother’s offspring into his kingdom...a kingdom that he ruled.
	“Will this not be the climax to my dreams?” At last, the total ruin of his brother’s bloodline was near. “Soon I shall snap the last thread that reminds me of your accursed self!” He laughed viciously, rubbing his bony hands in anticipation, “But first, I must prepare!...”

	“...So sure of his victory, so confident was he!” sneered the Storyteller. “He did not comprehend his danger, or the strength of the bloodline.”
	He paused, his ancient visage searching the anxious faces of the crowd. He winked, and although his shell was nothing more than a wrinkled hide, his eyes shone clear, youthful, and alive.
	“But we do, don’t we?...”

Chapter Thirty-eight
It is an Obligation

	Flecks of foam dotted his breeks. His horse was near dropping from its exhaustion. Absently, he patted its sweat-slicked neck and murmured softly, “Rest easy, my faithful companion, the end is in sight.”
	He looked down from his rocky perch, surveying the land below. In less than two cycles they would arrive in Sol -- a destination long sought. Hopefully his search would end there.
	He was positive about the time involved, but it was the only absolute he had.
	“Two cycles,” he said to no one. “And I hope that I have not come too late.”
	He longed to be back on the road but knew rest was a needed thing. They couldn’t continue at the pace he set and hope to survive.
	He frowned, unable to shake the ominous foreboding that blanketed his thoughts. He felt that if he stalled even for a moment he would arrive too late. The outcome of his tardiness...Michall lost to him forever.
	Fighting hard against the inner gloom that threatened, he again sought solace within the view below. He tried to envision the water as it lapped gently upon the beaches of white sand, pretended to feel the cool breezes wafting off the tides, and strained to hold on to the imagined soft hiss each rolling wave produced as it stretched out over the land. But his efforts were futile.
	Ruhtra, quiet and solemn, appeared to the King’s right. Mikam glanced sideways at his companion and felt a shiver run up his spine.
	They had been together now for nigh on two full turns. In that time, rather dramatic changes had come over the man.
	He said nothing, and did not expect the wizard to address him.
	The old wizard he’d first met was no more. In his stead walked a man in his youth or near it. Where white, brittle hair had grown, there now grew a head of magnificent, shining glory. Muscle that had sagged on frail, thin limbs, the skin flapping its hollow uselessness, had been replaced with well-toned, healthy tissue.
	He’d watched in horrid fascination, and with more than a measure of weary trepidation, as each passing cycle had delivered a new transformation. He began to dread the dawning of the sun, fearing that one time he would awake to a bawling, helpless babe.
	But three full cycles past, the backwards spin of the clock halted. Ruhtra had not changed since, but the King had.
	He’d tried to ignore the transformation, shying away from the subject whenever one of his leery men broached it. He feared the answer he might receive dare he ask the question. With his mind preoccupied with his son, it had been much easier to remain ignorant to the strange changes.
	Ruhtra had seemed immune to the gossip circulating throughout the troop. The man greeted each cycle with a single-mindedness that in other situations he would have applauded, but now only made him wonder. Ruhtra was consumed by something as engrossing as he, himself was.
	Now he dared to wonder. He knew magic was being used, pure and simple. Magic had effected the change in the wizard, and he admitted that it was magic that he needed.
	As if Ruhtra knew he was the focus of his thoughts, he turned and stated, “You need not dwell on the fear that you harbor for your only son. I sense that they are safe.”
	Mikam eyed him skeptically, daring to ask more. “Is this true? Will we reach them in time?”
	“You will not be too late with your aid. Rest easy my friend.”
	“How do you know these things?” Mikam murmured. His voice was little more than a whisper, forming his words carefully through a throat that had suddenly gone dry.
	Ruhtra smiled enigmatically, his golden stare centering on a point on the scene below. He turned sideways and faced the King, stating in confident tones that left little doubt to his convictions, “I have reason to arrive on time. I believe that whatever play is being introduced will not start without me. You see, it is being presented in my name, calling to my honor alone.”
	Mikam sat his mount and looked staunchly ahead into the featureless sky. He allowed exasperated breath to escape his parted lips. He didn’t understand the man or his fervent speech. He allowed his shoulders to slump, shouldering a posture to match his mood.
	“If it eases your troubled mind my King, try to view it as I do.”
	“And how do you regard all this?” Mikam asked in a tone that conveyed his deep weariness.
	 “Remember, I too have a young charge down there. She is in need of me, just as your Michall calls to you. All I do, all I labor for, is for them alone. I lend my aid because of the burdens they have been ascribed to carry...because of a foolish and naive youngling who fancied himself grown.”
	Mikam nodded, feeling for the first time an affinity for this man’s troubles. His path was not so very different from his own. “You speak of young Ra-May?” He already knew this was true but wished to hear his voice against the silent backdrop of the deepening darkness of the second cycle.
	“Aye, her and others. I owe her some measure of my support. I must be there in her time of greatest need, repaying a long owed debt. She, your son, and the others who travel their path, they are all my charges, my responsibilities...my worries, my burden.” He sank into silent thought, matching Mikam’s mood of before.
	Sorrow wafted from the man.
	Mikam sought to assuage his burden if the other would allow it. “I don’t fully understand what you’re implying, and I don’t see how those who travel with my son, or Michall, are your responsibility. What guilt do you attach to yourself, what great wrong has been applied, that permits the total weight to be positioned on your shoulders alone?”
	Ruhtra met his questioning eyes and sighed, “If the truth be spoken, then I am glad it is to you. These children, they try to correct something that I, foolish and compassionate in my youth, failed to comprehend. Now the hand of fate has shifted the burden to them, trying once again to reach the blood, awaken it to the need, where once it failed before in me. It is an obligation of the bloodline. One I was to blind to see.”
	He looked to Mikam, knowing he did not understand but glad that he was willing to listen. It had been a long time since he had someone to bear his soul to.
	“I will not allow them to pay for my mistakes. I promise you, my friend, I will not fail them a second time.”
	Mikam studied the incapacitated sag of the now youthful wizard’s shoulders. He noted the conviction in the troubled eyes. Whether it be from understanding or just a need to share comfort, he reached out and offered his hand.
	“Peace, my friend, and know I do call you friend. I will not allow you to shoulder this burden alone. We’re in this together.”
	If there was hope, he saw it mirrored in the wizard’s eyes. He relaxed a fraction, choosing to trust his companion.
	A shared thought passed between the two, and they turned their mounts as one, heading them back to the main path.
	“We ride!” Mikam bellowed into the wind. “To Sol!”

Chapter Thirty-nine
Time Wastes, Human

	He felt dauntless, positively animated in every nerve of his body. Without clogging doubts to gainsay him and certain that they’d meet up with Michall and Ra-May soon, he pressed on.
	He’d led the small group to a sheer bluff that looked down upon a picturesque cove secreted within a quiet domain of haze. Through the wispy fog he could see sketchy patches of white sand surrounding clear, azure waters, encircling this revelation, a bulwark of towering pines bearing green and amber foliage to shield its territory against prying eyes. Invisible, except from where he stood.
	It was a miracle in itself that they had located the site. If they’d not possessed the pamphlets Corty had carelessly handed him, this place would have remained ensconced. A condition he was glad to have conquered.
	Phillip stood at the edge of the rocky cliff and peered down at the beckoning inlet. It was an oasis, a welcome boon to his soul.
	“There it is!” he shouted triumphantly. “Now all we need to do is find the spot indicated on the map and behold...we have half the battle won!”
	“You think so, human?” guffawed Ra-Nu. “I think it wise that you rest yourself. Remove that fair head from the sun. Your brain seems afire.”
	The little man’s mood was infectious. Ra-Nu fought for control of a smirk that threatened to escape his stern facade while pertinaciously directing Phillip to lead on. “Time wastes, human. Let us be about our duties.”
	The small group slid, and groped, and picked their way down the side of the rocky bluff, the going slow and tedious. The sharp rocks were a poignant reminder of what a fall would cost them.
	Phillip reached the base first and waited with a strong arm to help the others in their decent. Tilly hovered near his head, regarding the area with unconcealed awe while Torch remained unreadable, a Warrior to the last.
	Once they all stood again on flat ground, Phillip scanned the area.
	“It would appear that we search for a marker made of stone,” El-Cha offered as he studied the pamphlet. “See here where this mark sits?” he pointed down to the spot. “There seems to be a boulder or large marker proclaiming it. We should concentrate our search on similar formations. Are we agreed?”
	They nodded in unison, quickly fanning out across the sands to hunt in earnest.
	The cove was larger than it had first appeared, every inch littered with large, craggy rock formations, stretching in all directions. Their random patterning even lurked among the shadowy pines, the daunting, megalithic stones standing in mocking silence.
	Phillip sought out El-Cha. “This is hopeless. All the rocks look like our missing marker! And the area is different than depicted here,” he mumbled, looking down at the map. “It’s like the drawing was made from memory, not actual surveying.”
	“It would appear so,” El-Cha sighed. “We cannot rely on it and its promised goal.” He studied the picture before him and then shrugged as if to say, ‘What shall be, will be’. “It would seem that we have our work cut out for us.”
	Looking about, he directed, “Phillip, search for something that will mark the stones. You as well, Ra-Nu. We will have to mark each and every one we inspect so that we know we have given a thorough search.”
	He lowered his own head, searching the sandy beach for an instrument to use. Rewarded, he bent his willowy frame and palmed some sea urchins abandoned shells. “Here, these will serve. Shall we be about it, my friends?”
	“Aye, time wastes,” barked Ra-Nu. He bent and found his own shell. Holding it tight, he turned and hurried away with Torch straddling his shoulder.
	“I wonder,” Phillip pondered, “if the stone we look for might not have some markings of its own?”
	El-Cha cocked his head, eyes filled with interest. “Aye, I believe you have the jest of it. It amazes me, human, to witness the changes in you.”
	“Changes?” Phillip asked, looking incredulously at him. “What changes?”
	“You are more attuned to your surroundings, much the same as an Elf. There is a new strength in you that was not there when first we met. It is interesting, do you not think?”
	“Interesting?” Phillip asked, a hint of irritation marking his voice. “If being concerned for my kin is interesting, then you sir have a strange concept of humans.”
	“Please, take no offense, for none has been offered,” the Elf replied while easily drawing Phillip further down the beach, his hand marking off the inspected stones automatically while he sought to animate with voice the depth of his feelings.
	“It is not the concern for Michall that I sense has changed. It is more your inner struggle has been conquered. You now seem to possess a deeper understanding of events shaping our lives. And so produce visceral inspiration to us all. I offer you praise not dishonor.”
	“Well, I really don’t know what to say,” Phillip mumbled. “You’ve left me enfeebled.” Bowing formally, he cleared his throat and said, “If you will excuse me, I believe I’ll search across the way. Call if you locate the stone. I’ll do the same.”
	El-Cha watched him sprint across the hot sands and smiled a small, knowing grin before turning to apply himself to the task at hand.
	The search went on and on with no end in sight. For every stone searched and marked, there were countless others waiting to be inspected.
	Phillip fought despair like a leaf battling a gale, fearing that at any moment unrelenting misfortune would tear him apart. He knew the stone was here, it had to be. It was just a matter of time before one of them located it...the thought became his battle cry.
	He asked Tilly if she would sail the winds, using her special sight to scan the area.
	She sighed, “Anything for you, my human.”
	 He watched her take to the air and laughed. Calling out, he advised, “Tilly, look for strange glyphs upon the stone. Search for anything marked by design.”
	She nodded as she pushed her tiny wings to greater heights. It didn’t take her long to disappear from his sight. He sat on the sand to await her return.
	Shaking his head, he chuckled softly, “I do wish she’d stop calling me, ‘her’ human.”
	But secretly he admitted that he enjoyed it. “Who would have thought,” he smirked, “that I would come to care for the little flutterbug.”
	He leaned back onto one of the boulders he’d already studied, intent on giving his tired body a moment’s peace and shelter from the tyrannical sun. His hand absently scooped at the cool sand that lay at its base.
	Lost in thought, he did not realize that his body was slowly shifting with the sand he disturbed. That realization came when something bit hard into the small of his back. He shifted, trying to escape the offending object, but found another waiting to take its place. 
	“These accursed stones!” he muttered. “It’s as if they were all hand-hued and purposely crafted with sharp, ragged edges just to keep a man from enjoying a small measure of comfort.”
	He shifted yet again, mumbling loudly as he did, when a new thought invaded, pushing aside his squawks. He leaned forward and turned his head slightly to peer over his shoulder.
	“Please, oh please. Let it be so!” he prayed.
	He began to scoop sand away by the handfuls, laughing in his excitement. “Yes!” he yelled. “Ra-Nu, El-Cha! Hurry. I believe I’ve located the stone!”
	Dominated by surging emotions, he plunged into the sand. He flung it from his fists, away from the stone.
	His friends joined him and proceeded to dig steadily beside him, but he barely noticed.
	“I will find you, Michall. Trust me! I will!” he chanted.
	Ra-Nu’s restraining grasp reached down, halting him. “Enough, little man. The base stands free. There is no need to dig further.”
	Phillip wiped the sweat from his brow and gifted him with a small salute. “It’s the stone we search for, isn’t it?” he questioned, his voice raspy, his tone pleading. He didn’t realize until that moment the extent of his desperation.
	His friends stared down at his sand covered form, kneeling, almost obscure, within the shelter of the marker’s long, cool shadow.
	Phillip reddened as he peered up into their concerned faces. Leaning back on his hands, he laughed, “I do at times tend to go to extremes, don’t I?”
	El-Cha nodded absently, already contemplating the strange runes that etched the stone. Squatting near the base, he was lost to the others now that he was deep in his own speculations.
	Ra-Nu stalked the perimeter of the massive thing, searching with a keen eye. “Where is the area that allows entry?” he growled, his disappointment evident.
	The rock appeared seamless, perfect in its mold. He followed the line of its base upward to stare at its towering height. Irritation quickly replaced disappointment to shine hostile upon his face, a face that did not give in easily to despair...or defeat.
	He returned to the small gathering in a turbulent mood, “I see no way that we may enter the stone, and I do not think it possible for me to lift it.”
	“Maybe El-Cha could use his magic to lift the stone?” Phillip offered.
	They all looked expectantly at the Elf kneeling on the ground.
	Torch tapped the errant Elf on his head with his foot, causing El-Cha to jump nervously to his feet. He looked sheepishly about, raising a delicate, upturned brow in question.
	“We have no time for your scholarly musings, Elf!” Torch intoned sharply. “We must locate the entrance to this thing.”
	“Of course. Forgive my indulgences. I sometimes lose my purpose when confronted by puzzling and most intriguing information. For my lack of judgement, I apologize. So,” he sighed, clapping his hands together, “what do you think is our next step?”
	“Could you read the markings?” Phillip asked.
	El-Cha shook his head, bringing his hands down to his sides. “Nay, I could not understand a single slash.”
	Phillip’s shoulders visibly slumped.
	“Is it possible to use your magic to lift this thing?” Ra-Nu nearly shouted.
	Phillip’s face lit up with his lopsided grin before wiping it away by biting his lip. He did so wish to remind the big Elf that patience was the key to all things but thought now was not the time.
	“I will try,” El-Cha said as he studied the massive size of the stone. He sat down upon the sand, legs crossed, and closed his eyes. With his face slack, his countenance calm and serene, his lips began to move, but no sound escaped them.
	Sweat began to bead his brow, but the stone did not move. His jaw went rigid, registering the strain, and still the thing refused to budge.
	He expelled exasperated breath, “Nay, it is protected. I cannot unweave the spell that surrounds it. It is old and very strong.”
	Phillip frowned. ‘How could we have come so far, achieve so much, only to be stopped by a block of granite?’
	The others continued to circle the thing, searching for even a small notch that would gain them entrance. He, on the other hand, gave in to his melancholy and removed himself to the distant side of the stone.
	The sun had set while they labored, the moon now leered its face downward, laughing at their struggles. He sighed, wondering if they were doomed to fail. They had spent the entire first cycle searching for the stone while constantly being battered by a wide variety of emotions and forced to come to terms with each disappointment. And then, just when they dared to hope, this new obstacle reared up.
	He heard Ra-Nu call and thought to ignore him. He didn’t feel like being lectured yet again. Another insistent call followed his silence before he answered.
	He saw the shadow of the larger Elf’s frame snaking toward him, the willowy figure dark and foreboding. He felt himself akin to its dark length -- his emotions wispy, vague, and lost. He imagined hidden features buried in its depth, hideous traps devised to see that they failed.
	Jumping to his feet, he struck out at the unrelenting stone with his fist, cursing it for its secrets, wanting pain but instead meeting shimmering light and a chilling emptiness.
	He could not help but gape as he stared at his missing hand, the arm appearing an extension of the stone. His shock was soon replaced by nervous laughter.
	Ra-Nu rounded the corner and froze. Phillip giggled, on the verge of hysterics. He pointed to the missing appendage with his other hand and leaned his body toward the silent rock to promptly vanish.
	He shouted for the others even as he leapt toward Phillip’s fleeting form.
	“I do not believe what my eyes show me to be happening,” Torch whispered as they rounded the corner.
	El-Cha shrugged his shoulders, “It seems, my little friends, that they have found an entrance we have overlooked.” Inclining his head, he asked, “Shall we follow?”
	The tiny Fire Elves nodded, although hesitantly, and then the three moved to stand before the smooth, flat surface where their friends had vanished. As one, they bounded into the void.
	Below them, Phillip and Ra-Nu had barely removed themselves from the sandy floor when El-Cha landed in a heap at their feet. The two Fire Elves remained aloft, using their wings to glide down the shaft, emitting tiny beacons of light into the otherwise opaque hole.
	“Welcome,” Phillip offered, standing over El-Cha’s ruffled form. “So glad that you thought to join us.”
	El-Cha picked himself up off the floor and brushed the dirt from his tunic. Watching the hovering Fire Elves, he said, “Wings would have been a practical addition to our expedition it seems. By the feel of my bones, I would say a most welcome augmentation.”
	Forming a semicircle, they appraised their new surroundings.
	“It seems there is only one way to venture,” Phillip stated dryly, suspiciously eyeing the tunnel stretching out dismally before him. An involuntary shiver raced up his spine.
	“Aye, let us go. The sooner we begin, the quicker the end. Then we shall see if this tunnel leads to Ra-May!” Ra-Nu instructed as he started down the shaft.
	Phillip had to run to catch up as the Elf’s determined strides covered large sections of the ground ahead. “And Michall, dear fellow, and Michall,” he corrected between gasps of breath.
	The Elf faced the little man, eyes shining unnaturally in the darkness. “I have not forgotten,” he reproached. “Come, we shall lead the way and find them together.”
	Phillip threw a companionable limb about the other’s shoulder as they continued their forward trek through the dreary shaft.
	Ra-Nu eyed his arm as he stated, “Little man, I still do not understand your moods, but I am trying. May the Crystal vouch for me, I am trying.”
	Phillip only smiled.
	They moved stealthy through obscure and fetid air, Phillip being most grateful to the Fire Elves for staying near, bathing him with their magical light. He patted his shoulder, inviting them to ride and was pleased when both accepted.
	The even trail began to decline, placing strain on limbs that were already near their limits. Fleetingly, he wondered at the downward thrust of the shaft, but let it sink back into the recesses of his overtaxed mind.
	They moved on, feeling the path level off, once again setting them on an even keel. 
	His anxiety mounted. ‘Would this never end?’ he lamented in silence.
	He sought to occupy his mind, anything that would take the edge off his nervousness would be welcome. His friends appeared content to follow the path to its end, maintaining a dauntless composure while gliding through the darkness about them.
	Concentrating on the tunnel walls, he watched the shifting patterns created by the magical illumination. He paused, causing El-Cha to stumble against his back.
	“So sorry, good fellow,” he offered. “But look here.” He pointed to a shadowy patch upon the wall, indicating what had now become obvious to the other. “More of the strange runes mark these walls. What do you think it means?”
	“Mayhap written directions, some ancient pointer to an unknown destination? I do not know. Whatever they signify, I suggest from here on we tread wary.”
	“A good plan,” Phillip replied. He scanned about in wide-eyed watchfulness. “I think I’ll just stand a little closer to our large friend there,” he said, nodding to Ra-Nu. “I strongly recommend you follow my lead.”
	El-Cha chuckled, seeing Ra-Nu’s smirk easily despite the darkness. He started to offer suggestions of his own when his keen eyes made out the shapes hidden within the encroaching shadows.
	“‘Ware!” he cried, dropping down to a crouch. Phillip instinctively aped him. Ra-Nu, ever the warrior, pulled his sword and raised the blade before him.
	“You will stand against the wall and disarm immediately!” came an insistent voice, augmented by the metal hiss of swords leaving their sheaths.
	Ra-Nu continued to hold his blade before him like a shield. If the mysterious voice had thought to intimidate, it was to be disappointed. He took a menacing step forward, but El-Cha interceded.
	“Ra-Nu, think. If you are dead, who will aid Ra-May?”
	“Aye, but if we are captives, who will aid us?”
	“Trust me, my friend. I do not sense a need to fight. I believe that those ahead will only lead us faster to our destination. Lay down your sword...trust me.”
	Long moments passed before he finally relinquished his blade. With a sinister smile, he whispered, “Just the same, little friend, I shall not go as a lamb to slaughter. I keep my dagger by my side.”
	“A wise course. We should all do the same,” El-Cha agreed.
	Phillip motioned he understood and threw his own sword down to the soft dirt at his feet. “Yes, tamed but not entirely helpless.”
	Hearing his words, Tilly and Torch doused their lights.
	The click of metal echoing into the darkness was all their shadowy assailants awaited. In the space of a heartbeat, they had them surrounded.
	“We will give no harm save you give us cause. Our intent is to take you onward. Since you have violated our sacred halls, you must answer to our Queen.”
	“You’re female!” Phillip exclaimed. “How sweet your voice sounds. Ah, for a flame, a small sliver of light, that I might look upon the face that produced such music. If I have but one wish left me, let me see your beauty before I die.”
	“Human, hush!” Torch hissed.
	The voice came again but this time less confident. Ra-Nu’s laughter could be heard echoing from ahead while Phillip grinned slyly into the swirling gloom.
	“These young ones have not been playing warrior so very long,” Ra-Nu whispered to El-Cha.
	“It would seem so. Phillip may have found the key to our survival.”
	“Let us hope that he is not our only option. I wonder at my sanity to even entertain such a notion,” the warrior chided.
	“You will have your light soon enough,” snapped the unseen voice. “Now follow. I must take you to our Queen.”
	“Lead on, my angel. I shall follow you to the ends of the world. Let me die with the soft breath from your voice brushing against my cheeks. It would be worth the dying,” intoned Phillip, a smile resting confidently on his lips.
	A rough shove propelled him into motion, his laughter echoing out before him as they were herded forward.
	“Does your Queen hold compassion?” El-Cha asked of the one he judged to be their leader.
	“She is our only law. Her compassion is great, but I do not know how she will treat you, a male.”
	“Wait a moment,” Phillip piped in. “Has she some aversion to the male species?”
	“I do not know. We have no males. Come, I can say no more.”
	“I wonder, could this be heaven?” gasped Phillip into the shifting gloom.
	Ra-Nu laughed again but bit back any further remarks as the sharp end of a pike pricked his back, gently encouraging him to move forward.
	A wall to their right began to snake inward, revealing another passage beyond. Ra-Nu grunted as he was rudely shoved through the gaping hole. Phillip might perceive this place as celestial, but as for him, he had another area in mind.
	They traveled another short span before being halted and warned to wait quietly as yet another hidden panel was triggered. Before it had completed its yawning, rough hands pushed them through the gap. They landed in a tangled, ungraceful heap at the lip of a rocky bluff.
	Blinking eyes gone sensitive in the dark, Phillip stared at the illusion before him. A great cavern loomed before them. Immense, it boasted beauty beyond his limited comparisons. His rationale mind denied its existence even as his eyes told him to believe.
	“This must be heaven!”
	“Phillip, do hush! You wear heavily upon my nerves!” ordered Ra-Nu.
	Refusing to take his words to heart, Phillip only stared, convinced that he’d died, and this really was his final resting place. “And to think I’ve been afraid of this!” he stated, sweeping his arms out before him to take in the view beyond.
	There was to be no quiet reflection, or time to regroup. They weren’t accorded any rest. Their young guard was not prone to relaxing her stance, or being escort to males and thought it better to herd them directly to the ‘Caves of Royalty’, foregoing standard procedures.
	She eyed the pale male covertly, studying his form, his fair face, and his muscular frame. What she saw did not displease, but when he spoke, it unnerved her.
	Phillip openly stared at her. “I’ve been blessed,” he whispered near her. “You are lovelier than I hoped. Imprison me, Madam, I’m yours.”
	She straightened her back, motioning stiffly for them to move ahead. She watched him swagger forward, then allowed a smile to cross her face. ‘He is handsome, as are the others with him,’ she admitted. ‘I will be the envy of my clan.’
	She would make claim, if her Queen permitted, to them all. She moved to the head of the column, her head held high. When other females drew close and reached to touch her charges, she swatted their hands, denying them their goal.
	Phillip recognized a jealous female when he saw one. This was going to be an interesting adventure.
	Enjoying his predicament immensely, he ambled carelessly forward, nodding his head gallantly to the onlooking maidens. Although he’d never seen a Race such as they, their differences didn’t bother him. He found them enchanting...beautiful in an exotic, ethereal way, wondrous to look upon.
	Their movements appeared graceful and fluid, gliding effortlessly within their environment. He ached to touch their long, luxurious locks and sit amongst them, admiring their many attributes.
	He slowed his march, offering his hand to one of the maidens nearby, his urge to touch intensified, overpowering what little judgement he possessed.
	His efforts were rewarded by a rude poke in the ribs delivered by their gallant leader. He heard Ra-Nu’s laughter, but being in such high spirits, ignored him. None-the-less, he opted to behave, happy to content himself with the lovely form of their guard.
	They were ushered into an enormous cave and lead along yet another corridor. El-Cha gaped with undisguised wonder at their surroundings, but the elegant carvings lining the walls did nothing to assuage his discomfort. There was something oppressing about being within this cavern, something that his Elfen blood recoiled against.
	Secretly, he hoped that Phillip could work his wiles on their Queen. He did not relish the idea of dying in such a dismal place.
	“If I must, I will call the magic. I refuse to stay here and be swallowed by another void,” he muttered softly. “I do not care if the Del-a-Shar feels my presence or not.”
	“Rest easy, my friend. I feel the same weight upon my soul. I will not let you die without the sun to warm you. This, I promise,” Ra-Nu pledged.
	El-Cha nodded.
	They were ushered into a small chamber and promptly left alone. The main door clanked shut, swinging away from them in a farewell wave. The loud snap of a latch successfully managed to stifle all thoughts of escape.
	“I like this not at all!” thundered Ra-Nu as he paced the cell, apparently caged but not tamed. “Although they do not bind us, they seal us in stone. It bodes ill.”
	“We must wait and judge their Queen. If she truly bears us ill omens, then we will have only ourselves to look to for deliverance. Have patience, Ra-Nu.”
	“Patience! You dare to preach to me of patience?” Ra-Nu shouted, angling his pace toward the smaller Elf. “I am the one who has the training of the Elite! I say we must act now before it is too late!”
	“Ra-Nu, if you possess the virtues of the Elite, then act like it! You display little of your training now. Think! Use your head not your heart. If we are to be of any use to our companions, then you must rein in your temper, be as the trees...strong, stately, and calm. Become a structure that is solid against adversity not swayed by the wind,” lectured a tired El-Cha.
	Ra-Nu fought his temper, his face a mottled visage of rage. Finally, he conceded, “You are wise, my friend. Your words are full of wisdom and I...I am an old fool.”
	“Nay, only one concerned for his friends,” El-Cha corrected.
	They heard the commotion long before it reached their cell. It echoed through the corridors, angling toward them. Their senses alerted, they gathered and stood ready.
	Ra-Nu eyed Phillip quizzically, an unasked question hanging between them just as the door burst inward to reveal a blur of flying limbs and golden hair.
	“You are safe,” she shouted, great tears trailing unchecked down her cheeks as she ran to Ra-Nu’s outstretched arms. “I feared I would never see any of you again!”
	Ra-Nu hefted Ra-May high into the air, then drew her close in a smothering embrace. Mumbling into the veil of her tresses, he cried, “Child, my heart soars!”
	Phillip grabbed her next, holding her a moment at arms length, eyeing her up and down before swirling her in a dance of abandoned merriment. But delight soon turned bittersweet as he looked into her tear-stained face. A lump formed in his throat making it hard for him to speak.
	“Ra-May, where is Michall?”
	“I’m here, Phillip,” answered a familiar voice. “For now, she’s just faster than me.”
	Michall leaned against the portal, arms crossed, smiling as he nodded down to his bandaged leg. He attempted to limp into the room but was quickly accosted and lifted into the air by strong arms and carted, unceremoniously, to an awaiting stool.
	“I’m not an invalid!” Michall protested. “I’ve been managing quite well on my own!”
	But his words fell on stubborn, pointy ears.
	Ra-Nu gently lowered him down.
	“What happened to you?” his kin asked, worry creasing his brow, concern clogging his throat.
	Michall waved an inconsequential hand, trying to dismiss it as no more than a minor inconvenience. The reproach in Ra-May’s eyes suggested that would be unwise.
	“A sword slash acquired in that filth-invested hovel we passed through. Don’t concern yourself. I’ll be up and about soon enough.”
	El-Cha nodded, remembering the moment that he saw Michall fall. The prince’s injury had been the reason he had summoned the wind.
	“But enough about me,” he heard Michall state. “Tell us how you found your way here.”
	The room grew noisy with their voices, each vying to tell their strange adventures.
	Michall paled visibly when Phillip related his tale. He fought to maintain his confidence, concealing his sensitivities to the world Phillip recounted, a world without Ra-May. He shuddered, remembering that hazy reality, another life lived, one he thought he’d invented during his fevered dreams.
	Ra-May was no less shaken by El-Cha’s tale of Ra-Jee. She cried openly when he placed Ar-Hur’s ring upon her finger.
	“I regret to say that although we had interesting and insightful experiences, I believe they may have been for naught,” ended El-Cha with despair.
	“How so?” Michall asked.
	“I reason that since we are all still here, still trying to defeat the Del-a-Shar,” he said, “then Ar-Hur could do nothing. Our course remains the same. Nothing has changed.”
	“I cannot believe it was all useless. I carry hope in my heart and determination in my veins,” Ra-May stated with confidence. “There was a reason, it just has not made itself known. Time will tell. Hold faith with the Crystal, and all questions will be answered.”
	“I stand firm beside you as I always have. We will face this together and pray for the Del-a-Shar’s defeat,” Michall rallied. His features fierce, his purpose clear and galvanized.
	‘Aye,’ she thought, ‘I will have my revenge before the Del-a-Shar has a chance to destroy another Race.’
	“Now,” Michall offered quietly, the tenseness in his face relaxing, “let us tell you about our hosts -- the Blues. A mysterious tale and a puzzle I think you’ll find very interesting. Especially once you see how we all fit into it.”
	“Will this tale explain your newfound conviction...your calm acceptance of your destinies?” quipped Ra-Nu.
	The two had changed in a manner he could not quite discern. They were stronger, older, and less the cubs he had left upon the road.
	‘Where was the somber prince, the lad of few words and much thought? What had happened to the Elfling he had raised, the one that was full of innocent wonder?’ Ra-Nu puzzled in silence. He feared their tale may be the cause of such changes, and he was not sure he wished to hear it.
	Michall stated thoughtfully, “Ra-Nu, it might. I’ll let you be the judge.”
	“As you may have guessed, there are nothing but females inhabiting this place. Save for us and one male of their own kind, it is completely run by females,” Ra-May volunteered, beginning their mutual tale.
	“Nothing but females,” Phillip groaned.
	Michall grinned, his eyes finding his mate, causing her to wink knowingly.
	“What?” Phillip asked sheepishly, a sly smile already forming on his lips.
	“Nothing,” Michall smirked and began to retell the haunting story of the Blues.
	When he had finished, he looked into the confused faces of his companions and found he could only shrug. He made to rise but was instead scooped into Ra-Nu’s waiting arms.
	“No, nnnno,” Michall stuttered, “I’d really prefer to walk, Ra-Nu. If you would just lend me your shoulder, I can manage quite well.”
	The large warrior eyed him doubtfully.
	Michall smiled up to him and said, “Come, I think it’s time that all of you were introduced to Queen Morning Dew.”
	With Phillip anchoring one side and Ra-Nu supporting the other, they left the small room amidst Michall’s protests. They chose to ignore him as they carried him forward. For now, he was in their capable hands.
	Following closely behind, Ra-May toyed with the new ring upon her finger, wondering why King Ar-Hur had thought to send it to her.
	El-Cha walked beside her, wondering the same...

	“...They had been reunited and once again charged headlong toward their destiny, fate dealing the hand, watching as they received their cards,” sighed the old man. His story not yet over, but soon...soon, the telling would be done, and a pledge finally fulfilled. He straightened his weary shoulders and began anew...

Chapter Forty
Voices From the Past

	Enmeshed in troubled thoughts, he paced absently about the chamber.
	“It could not have survived!” he mumbled repeatedly. “That damnable jewel is dead!” He had seen to that! “So how?” he demanded, his mind searching for answers that refused to surface.
	“It matters not,” he concluded.
	Sinking down heavily upon a stone sill, he gazed out toward the waters of Sol.
	He spoke into the stagnant air, “This development was not foreseen, and I know not what turn it inspires.”
	In his dreams, he had seen Ar-Ion’s brat as the contesting force that he would quench. His plans were to use the child’s magic for his own, use her power to strengthen his own immortality...but this...what?...deviation?...from the foretold path was perturbing.
	He shouted into the otherwise silent chamber, “Something has tampered with the timeline, something has twisted the fates to try to cheat me of my long awaited victory.”
	He growled.
	Forcing gnarled claws into the semblance of fists, he cursed, “Ar-Hur, I will defeat all who stand allied to your cause. I shall proscribe the final verdict, give the last instruction to their ephemeral souls...ones I shall damn to perpetual darkness, sealed away from the light for eternity. I shall forever rule the bloodline.”
	He laughed then, a harsh bark vibrating heavily within the cold emptiness that was his solace. The raucous sound flowed freely, rebounding across the room and vibrating within his mind, its tone awaking distant memories, earlier slights now nothing but bitter snatches of an earlier life that he had suppressed.
	Images from a long dead past could serve him, help to feed his anger in ways far better than he was capable of generating in his present existence.
	He opened the gates, allowing the emotions to flood his cold heart and savored its icy touch. Suckling on his perceived slights, he leaned back and remembered...

	...He was a small lad but even then aware that he stood apart, hidden by the long shadow of his brother. He had been known as El-Hur then, the second son of a King.
	King Ra-El had been proud of his firstborn, praising his name to any who would listen. It had galled him to feel less worthy than Ar-Hur. If he achieved some wonderful accomplishment, it was always discovered that Ar-Hur had achieved it first. He was regulated to be last in all things.
	Somewhere in those early phasings, he hit upon the notion that to be the best was a simple matter of being first in line to the throne. The idea seemed sound. He could see with his own eyes the differences accorded to Ar-Hur and himself.
	His brother was treated to the best Ra-Jee had to offer, praise and respect assumed, while he had to crawl at their feet to beg a mere crumb of what they heaped on his brother.
	“So be it!” he had proclaimed. “I will be rid of them and assume the throne. Then all who have slighted me shall be called to task.”
	The vows of youth held firm as he stepped forward into adulthood. He had grown tall and, save for his eyes, would have been the mirror image of his hated twin.
	Ar-Hur’s glowing radiance infuriated him. His twinkling golden eyes inspired jealousy, and the gulf between them grew. Each new cycle, he would welcome the flame of hatred that he carried within, nourishing the fire, using it as a shield to protect him against Ar-Hur’s offered overtures of false friendship. He did not need his attention, or his weak kindness. What he needed, what he hungered for, was his death.
	He fueled his hatred, remaining ever on guard for the time to dawn that would see him achieve his desires. As hoped, the time arrived, and he set his schemes into motion.
	The Bands of Ra-Jee had become disgruntled, their emotional echo tainting the harmony of the land. His father launched a campaign designed to calm the quarreling Elves and return harmony to the land. This dissension would lead to war if the King could not promote Fellowship within the Bands. A war would leave the Elfen Nation adrift, open to the marauding, menacing tribes called Man.
	The King called for a council to be held. All leaders of the various Bands were to attend.
	Ar-Hur walked the marble halls, his direction -- the council assembly, his thoughts -- his own.
	El-Hur stepped from the gloom and bowed to his brother. The action appearing mocking...scornful. He raised an inquisitive brow and waited, his posture showing his disinterest.
	Ar-Hur did not seem to notice the scornful disinterest as he stated, “Ah, brother. It is glad I am that I have found you. Our Father asks that we attend him at Assembly. Shall we journey together?”
	“You go, for I have no want or need for such boring activities.”
	“Not go?” Ar-Hur asked. “We must go! Our Father has asked it of us.”
	“You are a child, Ar-Hur. A naive and stupid weakling,” his brother sneered. “I will do as I feel. I do not wish to play the childish games our Father invents. I go in pursuit of my own pleasure. If you will excuse me,” El-Hur said and moved to free himself from Ar-Hur’s disbelieving regard.
	“El-Hur! You cannot mean these things you say? Surely you are concerned? Surely all must help in this time of crisis? Please, honor me? Come and stand by my side in the Hall to show our support.”
	El-Hur swung around to confront his idealistic sibling. “Honor? Support? I will not honor you or offer support! I give no credit to sniveling, ineffectual beings such as yourself! Nay dear, dear brother...support is something you shall never claim from me.”
	He eyed him contemptuously and then shrugged, “In fact, Ar-Hur, I loathe you and all you represent!”
	“Loathe me?” Ar-Hur whispered. “I do not understand what I have done to generate such hatred from my own brother. I feel the hatred radiating from your soul, and it shocks me.”
	He reached out, offering a hand in peace, wanting to banish the tarnish he saw staining his brother’s heart, wanting to atone for whatever slight he had given. “Come, let me mend your pain, take it upon my own soul. I will devote myself to you, and we will overcome this hurt.”
	“Move away from me!” El-hur demanded. “I want nothing from you! I shall tell you what slight you have caused so that my do-good brother shall rest easily whenever darkness clouds the sky,” he ranted. “You, your golden aura and all it represents, disgusts me. What troubles me is simple, and one that shall be corrected in time. The sin you wish to assuage your soul from is this...you were born, Ar-Hur. You live!”
	Ar-Hur turned tearful eyes to El-Hur, eyes riddled with disbelief.
	“Ah, I see that I have hurt you. How could one such as I be so bold? Aye, your golden orbs display your wounds openly.”
	He laughed then, a terrible thrust to his heated words. “You are so naive, Ar-Hur. Why, even now I sense the pity you hold for me. You would forgive me if I was but to ask. Do not waste your breath. One cycle I will rule, and you will be dust. I do not think that I will share your compassion, your weakness, or any of your sickening faults. I shall be the stronger, and you...forgotten. Now go. Leave me to my thoughts. I do not wish to be near you. Begone!” he shouted before disappearing into the looming shadows surrounding the Hall...

	“...But what he didn’t see, my children,” whispered the Storyteller, “was the resolve forming within his brother’s mind. No. He was too self-confident in his understanding of Ar-Hur, thinking him a fool and nothing more....”

	...Ar-Hur watched El-Hur flee through a veil of soaked lashes. Great, golden tears formed and fell unchecked from his grief-stricken eyes.
	“You are right, my brother. On one point I concede. I would forgive you if only you would ask.”
	He turned, shoulders sagging, and his heart carrying a burden that one so young should not have to bear.
	El-Hur had quickly made his way out of the Palace and now stood amongst the sheltering oaks that lined the entry gates. He rubbed his hands together with anticipated glee.
	Swaggering away from the Palace, he headed toward the encampment assigned to the lesser Bands, intending to deliver a small welcome -- from his dear brother!
	Clutching Ar-Hur’s prized dagger beneath his tunic, he sneered, “Let us see how the Golden one gets out of this. Once you have failed, Ar-Hur, they will banish you. And then I shall ascend to the throne!”
	Lurking within the shadows, outlining the encampments perimeter, he awaited the concealing twilight that would serve him so well. The darkness here cradled him, wrapping him in a secure shell.
	Hunched down, his head bowed in weary concentration, he witnessed the lengthening of the shadows. “At last, my time has finally come.”
	Whispering the words, he watched with greedy eyes as the infinite power of ‘Dark Magic’ took shape and formed about him.
	The enchantment flared, slowly taking shape, swirling itself possessively about his legs, its substance little more than hazy fog.
	A wispy appendage formed and flowed freely away from the main mass. Gracefully, with exotic appeal, it moved to caress his now prostrate frame. The emotionless stroke sent a jolt through his body, creating massive shivers up and down his spine.
	Now all that was needed was someone to set his plan in motion...

	...As the sun rose in the eastern sky, a young Page ran swiftly into the Hall. “My King, I come bearing a disheartening tale, one I am duty-bound to deliver.”
	“Go on then, boy, speak. Let us hear this disturbing tale,” Ra-El ordered.
	“My King, a most terrible deed was performed, a deed of Blood.”
	“Of Blood?” the King shouted.
	“Aye, my Lord...of Blood, and your son, Prince Ar-Hur, stands accused.”
	“What? Impossible!” Ra-El huffed. “Who dares accuse the Prince?”
	El-Hur had quietly entered the Hall and now stood silently beside his bewildered brother. He could hardly wait for the guards to drag the screaming Elf away. Of course, he would remain near to console his father, ready, if the need arose, to show the Court his compassionate virtues.
	He masked his face with concern and waited. ‘Soon!’ he thought. ‘Let it be soon!’
	The King stood rooted to the dais, his arms riding uncomfortably across his heaving chest, boldly dismissing the accusation with his eyes. “Explain!” he demanded.
	“My Lord, during second cycle last, a small troop of Elves were set upon as they waited for their own leader to return from your assembly. Their lives ended by a slash to the throat, the blood quickly fleeing their bodies and flooding the ground. Their silence might have been insured save a maiden happened by to clearly view the foul perversion. She is waiting now to bear witness and avenge her Band.”
	“Then bid her enter.”
	“Aye, I shall soon, my King. But first, I present one final article to this accusation.”
	In trembling hands, he produced the blood-covered weapon of death. “As you see, my Lord. This is Prince Ar-Hur’s dagger. It bears his mark upon the hilt.”
	Ra-El looked at the blood-tainted metal before him and snapped, “Bring the maiden forth!”
	Ar-Hur stood beside his father. His stony constance revealing none of his inner turmoil. He faced his accuser as she was lead forward with all the regal bearing of his station.
	El-Hur sneered, his attention focused on his brother’s face. ‘Break, Ar-Hur! Let me see the fear in your eyes. Let me feast upon your outrage -- your astonishment. I ask nothing else from you, only the taste of your defeat. Then I shall be complete.’
	But he was to be denied. Ar-Hur remained silent, his emotions concealed.
	When the maiden had cried out the last of her tale, the King turned troubled eyes to his eldest son.
	“I know nothing of this evil that I am accused of. I offer only in my defense, the truth. I was here with you and the other leaders of the Bands. So I, like you, have only just heard of this shameful deed.”
	Ra-El nodded. The lad had, indeed, been within the Hall throughout the entire second cycle.
	Murmurs began to threaten the reverence of the court.
	Ra-El raised his hands for quiet, “I know my son’s words to be true. I do not believe he committed this horrible transgression.”
	“Nor I,” spoke an Elf from the crowd. His lone voice a catalyst. Soon many were shouting their opinions, arguing for and against the prince.
	As they argued amongst themselves, Ar-Hur stepped to the center of the dais. As one, silence gripped the Hall. All eyes turned toward him...expectantly.
	“I will not rest until I find the Elf who acted out this foul deed. This I pledge to you even as I hear the objections from those who do not believe my words. Let all step forward who are in doubt. I offer them the truth for that is all I own.”
	One Elf moved forward, grief and anger fighting for control of his features.
	“Aye, I would speak. One of the victims whose blood now stains the forest floor was my son. Let it be written that I refuse to remain here for I do not believe that you are entirely innocent of this deed. I go and attend my dead, and with me goes the hope of a Kingdom united.”
	He spat at the young prince’s feet, then turned and left the Hall. Behind him trailed the warriors of his Band, the young maiden who accused him, and a few lesser Band leaders who feared this one Elf more than they feared their King.
	The King shook his head as he watched them depart. Speaking in muted tones, he inquired, “Are there any others who would choose the path to destruction? If so, leave now while my temper remains tight about me.”
	None stirred.
	“So be it. So it is done,” ordered Ra-El.
	He turned and left the Hall. Ar-Hur’s eyes followed his exit, seeing a tired old sire in place of the vibrant one he had always known.
	El-Hur screamed his agony silently within his mind, ‘Nay, nay. I was too close!’
	Fighting for a measure of control, he conceded, ‘What matter this? In a few phasings there will be bloody war reigning in the Kingdom. Mayhap I will have my chance to deal with Ar-Hur then.’
	He smirked as he slipped back into the comforting shadows...
	
	...Time pitched, racing forward along the memories in his mind, bringing him to yet another scene to fan his hatred.
	Many, many phasings had passed, and the Band Wars continued its bloody conquest. Allegiances continued to sway, dividing and crossing sides depending on the acts brandished by others. The original reason for the fight now forgotten to the greater frenzy of the sport.
	King Ra-El managed somehow to maintain the upper hand. He held it close, refusing to relinquish any small piece of hard-won ground once he had taken it.
	As he had feared, Man now encroached their outer borders. If agreements were not met, then they would be forced to battle an even greater threat. Man was coming and would surely finish what the Elves had begun. As the harmony fled, Ra-Jee would wither and die, and all the Elves within would be doomed to suffer the same fate.
	Ra-El called council under a flag of truce. His Race must listen to his words, hear the plea in his voice, or all would be lost.
	Urgent messages were sent out to all the leaders, but Ra-El knew that the Elf to convince was the leader of the Forest Bands. If he could manage to form a tie with him, then the rest of the Bands would succumb.
	A meeting was arranged.
	Ba-Tar stepped cautiously from the protection of his forest. A sensible Elf, he saw the need for unity. Ra-El met him, and they discussed the greater need of their Race, agreeing to put aside the petty needs of the individual.
	“Then I have your hand on it?” asked Ra-El.
	“Aye, you have that, if you agree to what I ask,” Ba-Tar replied covertly.
	Nervous now, seeing his victory slipping, Ra-El ensued, “And that would be?”
	“Ah, I request but a simple alliance of the Blood. I ask that your son and my daughter be bonded. In this way, I may rest assured that our Bands remain united.”
	“My son? I have two. Which one did you favor?”
	“Ar-Hur! I want my daughter, Sar-Ion, to be the next Queen of Ra-Jee,” came his shrewd reply. “Is it agreed?”
	“Aye, you have your agreement,” Ra-El nodded, taking the other’s hand to seal the pact. He watched the Elf preen, fearing what a child from his blood would be like.
	‘Forgive me, my son. You are a sacrifice I had to make.’
	Ra-El called his sons to his tent and explained all that had transpired.
	Ar-Hur accepted the news with grace. “I know that once we have met and bonded, love will not abandon us.”
	El-Hur sneered, “You are an innocent. They use you for their own gain. That weasel, Ba-Tar, only seeks the throne.” ‘My throne,’ he reminded himself silently.
	He loudly lambasted his stupid sibling, “Do not delude yourself into thinking that it will be you who will one phasing rule. Mark my words, it will be your life-mate and her Band.”
	“Enough,” Ar-Hur shouted. It was the first time any had heard him raise his voice in anger. “Do not tarnish my bonding with your foul words. I know what I do, and I go gladly to my joining. I shall trust that you will be wise enough to hold your tongue and pretend joy.”
	The threat hung heavily in the air. More the deadlier being delivered by one who practiced peaceful ways. El-Hur bowed, affecting defeat.
	They walked solemnly toward the glade where Ba-Tar and his Band waited, but silence refused to be their companion.
	“I do not envy you, my brother. I have looked upon the faces of the Forest maidens. They have lived too long beneath the canopy of leaves, their faces are dull. I shall not envy you your mate,” he laughed as Ar-Hur glared hostilely ahead.
	“Ah, such a noble fool you are. My cap is off to your bravery. Glad I am that I am not in your place.”
	“Once again, I remind you to hold your tongue. You are not in my place nor shall you ever be!”
	El-Hur missed a step. “I see that the true game begins,” he whispered. Then hastened to catch up.
	Ba-Tar stepped forward, his round belly sagging over his belt, his tunic, green as the forest, causing his pale skin to seem all the more paler. Clasping Ar-Hur’s hand strongly within his own, he shouted, “Let the bonding commence.”
	“Agreed,” Ra-El capitulated.
	The Forest Elf clapped his large hands, and a flutter of activity followed. Brightly clad maidens giggled as they ushered their multi-veiled charge forward.
	Ar-Hur stood silent, waiting. El-Hur could be heard chanting in the background, his words taunting him, “What will you do? How will you behave if she owns the face of an eel? Will you be able to control the repulsion you will feel or will you wince when the veil is lifted? Why, just look to her Sire if you wish to know her face. Surely there is no hope.”
	He whispered on and on. Ar-Hur straightened his spine, ignoring his cruelness, and focused instead on the figure that approached.
	Ba-Tar entered the circle of maidens and gently clasped the hand of the one in the center. He lead her toward the waiting prince, a proud smile gracing his lips. “May I give to you for your safe keeping, my daughter, the Lady Sar-Ion?” and kissed her delicate hand.
	Ar-Hur nodded, accepting her pale hand.
	“Then so it is done. They have been bonded. Let now the Bands look upon the face of their next Queen,” flourished her father as he tore the silky veil from her face.
	Ar-Hur could only stare. Before him stood a dream. Here was all he imagined beauty to be. He was indeed an honored Elf. He silently thanked the Crystal for this most unexpected gift.
	El-Hur looked upon the same vision and scowled. There were no words to express his outrage. Here before him now bonded to his brother was the maiden he had vowed would be his own.
	He had seen her only once and had fallen immediately for her beauty, pledging that she would be his no matter the cost. He had not known she was Ba-Tar’s daughter, only that he had wanted her. Now she belonged to another.
	His hatred grew.
	‘How can this be?’ he screamed silently. ‘Ar-Hur has beaten me once again...’

	...His scowl deepened the shadows that had become his face. His memory of past events lingered sharply in his mind. “Soon, Ar-Hur. Soon I shall see the realization of all my hopes...with your blood’s destruction. And then,” he shrugged, sending laughter forward to fill the chamber. “And then all the world will be my domain.”
	Later, after setting magical nets to warn him of intruders, he returned to the cool, dank solace of his private chambers to reflect and to make new plans.
	He searched his memory for answers, any thought that would end all trace of the menace that he had been forced to call brother, but his mind refused to cooperate. Instead, mired in the past, his thoughts turned to other nearly forgotten memories, forcing him to remember whether he wished to or not...

	...One solitary memory swirled endlessly within his mind, bringing with it all the emotions that he had thought long buried. The anger rose within his soul and spread its putrid bile into his thoughts. It was as fresh in his mind as if it had happened only moments ago. He savored his hatred, welcomed its reminder of his disgrace and failure.
	Once again he found himself within the Palace Keep. But he was older and exceptionally rancorous. For many phasings he had been forced to witness and endure the growing affection between Ar-Hur and his mate, Sar-Ion. Affection that he felt was rightfully his.
	It irked him to remain in the background and watch as their love grew stronger with each new dawn. Their happiness sickened him, and a gnawing jealousy rapidly ate away all reason.
	One cycle, Ar-Hur strolled gaily into the Royal families private living areas, seeming to glow with a new found happiness.
	El-Hur looked up, a sneer firmly set in place, as he entered. Upon seeing Ar-Hur’s joy, he quickly turned his head away, hoping to avoid conversation.
	Ar-Hur smiled, he laughed as he nervously paced the chamber. All present looked on expectantly. Finally, clearing his throat, Ar-Hur announced, “I am to be blessed. Sar-Ion is to bear our child.”
	The room became a whirlwind of shouts and laughter. Everyone was offering congratulations and asking after Sar-Ion’s health. Hugs were given freely while all within expressed their excitement and elation...all except El-Hur.
	He experienced an inner rage like no other he had known before. It built from deep within and threatened to explode in vengeful, violent eruptions. He fought hard to control the flood of emotions, to somehow dam the flow before he revealed his true nature to all within the chamber. Turning quickly, he fled the room.
	As he made his way hastily along the Palace corridors, his thoughts ran rampant. He did not like the way things were progressing. If Ar-Hur had a child, he reasoned, then it would become harder for him to seize the throne. This child could not wear the crown! It was meant for him and him alone.
	Somehow, he must get his father to denounce Ar-Hur before the babe was born, thereby clearing the path for him to inherit. But how?
	El-Hur thought hard, searching for a scheme. He labored at it for many turns, knowing that if he did not come up with a plan soon, then the babe would arrive, leaving him in a worst position than he was now.
	During one glorious cycle, the idea came to him. He laughed at its simplicity. How easy it would be to accomplish, and no one would suspect him. He crowed at the sheer genius of it.
	His father had but one true weakness, and that was the love of fine wine. The wines produced in the lower valleys were the best and the hardest to come by. But once he managed to obtain a bottle, his father would not resist its sweet call. With great relish, he set his plan in motion.
	Early the next cycle as the sun peeked over the mountains that circled the Elfen city, he rode from the Palace toward the lower valleys. He would buy the best wine the area had to offer, no matter what the cost.
	Along the way he would take a small detour to the forests that bordered the dreaded lands of Man.
	This plan would work unlike an earlier attempt where he had relied on idiots instead of taking care of things himself.
	He whistled happily as he rode away from the city. ‘Soon,’ he thought, ‘soon all will be as it should have been. Soon I shall have all, and Ar-Hur...nothing.’
	Upon his return, he immediately sought out his father’s company. He took great interest in the King’s affairs, asking many questions on how he felt about this or that subject. His chatter bordered on the edge of sickening sweetness, at least it sounded so to him, but his father responded with great enthusiasm.
	‘Perhaps,’ thought Ra-El, ‘perhaps my son has finally seen the error of his ways. Mayhap now that Ar-Hur and Sar-Ion are expecting, El-Hur has found something to care about.’
	A servant entered the chamber, interrupting the King’s private musings. In his hand he carried a silver tray. 
	“My Lord,” stated the servant. “I bring a gift of Valley wine.”
	“A gift? Why, who could have sent it?”
	“There is a tag, my Lord,” he said, nodding down toward the pale green bottle resting on the tray. Tiny beads of chilled moisture traveled down its long neck and glistened seductively, effectively beckoning Ra-El to sample it.
	He reached out and withdrew the tag. Guffawing, he preened, “‘My joy shall soon be complete!’ Ah, it must be from Ar-Hur! Come, join me, El-Hur, in a glass of this inviting wine. Your brother must be feeling extravagant. His joy shall soon be mine. Would you not agree?”
	“Perhaps, Father,” El-Hur dutifully replied while silently mocking, ‘Do you not mean my joy instead, Father?’
	“Will there be anything else, my Lord?”
	“Nay,” Ra-El answered. “I shall enjoy this wine, and then I will seek my warm bed.”
	The servant turned to leave, but Ra-El stopped him before he could exit. “There is one more thing if you would? Please stop by and thank my son for his thoughtful gift. Then, my good fellow, take yourself off to bed.”
	“Aye, my Lord,” he bowed deeply as he left the room.
	Sar-Ion received the message from the King’s servant. She smiled at her mate’s kindness. Rushing into their private chambers, she stood on the tips of her toes and kissed Ar-Hur softly on his cheek as he ideally gazed out the window.
	“What have I done to deserve such fine and wondrous treatment?” he laughed, watching as her eyes sparkled merrily.
	“Just for being you.”
	Cradling his mate in his strong arms, he smiled. His happiness should have been complete, but a nameless dread was upon him -- an alien force violating his thoughts.
	Instinctively, he let his mind reach out to the Crystal. He felt its soft touch and gave himself over to the gentle caress.
	“I am sorry, my child, but it is too late. I could give no warning for I did not see until it was beyond my ability to aid. You must go when you are summoned and quickly if you wish to say your farewells. But ‘ware, he who has done this deed will try to do harm to you and yours. Watch him closely.”
	He sheltered Sar-Ion firmly in his arms and leaned his chin against the soft halo of her flaxen hair. Grief hung heavily about him as he awaited the nameless doom that he knew would come to call.
	When the summons came, Ar-Hur stood stunned. He entered his father’s chamber and saw El-Hur standing silently over the King’s gasping, prone figure.
	Ar-Hur ignored his brother, pushing him aside to kneel beside his father and tucked his trembling hand securely within his own strong grasp. Witnessing death working on him, he shuttered. There was nothing, he now understood, that he could have done to halt its spread.
	The Crystal had warned him, but he had not known what to expect. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had believed that he would be able to halt the sickening spread of death, thereby saving its victim. He had not been prepared for who that victim would be.
	The King understood that he had little time left him before the Ancients called him home and wanted to make them count. He opened his mouth to speak, but El-Hur rushed in to stand between his father and brother.
	“Father, do not let this monster near you. It was he who gave you the wine laced with the deadly poison. He,” he sneered as he looked with contempt at Ar-Hur, “is no leader of Elves. He has committed a ‘Crime of the Blood’. Say the word and I shall have him banished from the Realm. This I would gladly do for you as my last gift to my King.”
	Ra-El looked deeply into Ar-Hur’s pain-filled orbs and sighed. Written within, he saw the truth. Perhaps being near death let one see things for what they truly were. He knew Ar-Hur had not sought him harm.
	Turning reluctantly away from the sadness of those golden lights, their warmth so inviting even when filled with anguish, he stared at the bitter truth written upon his younger son’s face.
	‘Aye, I understand it all now.’
	Shaking his head sadly, he motioned for Ar-Hur to help him sit up. Now was the time to be a King, not a frail old Elf. He must return the harmony to the land, and he must be quick before he drew his final breath.
	In slow, painful gasps, he asked, “What have you to say in defense, Ar-Hur?”
	“Father, I can say nothing that I feel you do not already know. There is naught that I can do to erase this deed, for if there was, I would do it. I wish I languished here instead of you, and you once again stood strong and secure as my King. Whatever you decree, I shall obey. I...”
	“Aye, Father, make your decree,” El-Hur quickly cut him off. “I shall gladly hasten to carry it out. I wish to make your last moments filled with joy. It would be a comfort to me to know that you witnessed the punishment and tasted the justice that is yours by right,” El-Hur stated firmly.
	“Joy? Justice?” Ra-El hissed. “I take no joy in what I must do, only sorrow and shame. As for justice, there will be none. Who can claim justice when it means the ruin of all you love?”
	He drew a ragged breath and stared at his sons. Faces that could serve as mirrors stared back, faces vastly different for all their apparent similarity. “Hold your silken tongue, El-Hur, for I am still among the living. No Elf shall speak for me as long as I am able to draw breath.”
	The bedchamber had gradually been filling as the King spoke to his sons. Now looking around at the assembled witnesses, he took a ragged breath and squared his shoulders against the backdrop of his pillows. The effort was costly. Forcing his voice to ring loudly throughout the chamber, he proclaimed, “I, Ra-El, King of all Ra-Jee, do hereby decree that the next Ruler and rightful heir to this land shall be my son. When I draw my last breath, Ar-Hur shall carry the harmony upon his shoulders.”
	“What?” screamed El-Hur. “How can you reward the very one who has sought to shorten your life? Does his crime not deserve swift punishment?”
	Storming angrily around the room waving his arms and clinching his fists tightly, he proclaimed loudly, “I shall not stand here and listen to the ramblings of arton weed. Obviously, the King is too far gone to make a just decision concerning the matter. Guards, to me! Arrest my brother for the King raves insane. His mind is lost to reason.”
	“Hold!” Ra-El’s voice managed to shake the chamber with its force, “I am not so far gone to know what I say. This pains me greatly, but I must speak. You have shamed our blood, El-Hur,” the King sighed. “You have broken our most sacred law. To take the blood of your own blood is a crime not tolerated. You are unfit to be amongst us. Even now I feel the taint of your act. As I move to cross over to the world of the Ancients, I finally know all and see the truth. It is hereby decreed that you shall be taken to the edges of Ra-Jee and cast out. From here onward you do not exist, you are nothing. You are lost to us. This is to be the first act I charge to the new King of Ra-Jee and my last decree within this plane.”
	“Father,” El-Hur screamed. “You are wrong. It was Ar-Hur who poisoned your wine. I was the one who discovered the foul deed. Father, please?”
	The King sagged deeper into his pillows. As his life drained away, he felt his cares fleeing too. He grew very tired and thought he might welcome the peace of the Ancients.
	Softly, with a voice fading quickly, he replied, “El-Hur, you have condemned yourself. You are the only one here who has named the poison that is even now stealing life from me. My own Healers could not find the evil to mix an antidote, and now it is too late. Sadly, they could not see the signs of the plant. But aye, you are right. It is indeed Man’s plant that flows through my blood. Who would know this better than the one who put it there.”
	With a dismissive wave of his hand, he sighed, “Farewell, my once son. I grieve for you even now. You are dead and gone from my life. Now I have but one son. Guards, take this Elf away.”
	El-Hur’s outraged screams could be heard long after he had been dragged from the chamber. His curses echoed back to them, leaving a gloomy pallor hanging in the air, filling the chamber with dark and dreadful omens.
	Ra-El lay unnaturally still, listening while El-Hur’s shouts faded away into the darkness.
	‘Soon,’ he thought, ‘my son will cease to exist...like his father.’ The King expelled a long, ragged breath and quietly left the Elfen world behind...

	“...The King was to be interred within the great mausoleums of the Ancients,” informed the Storyteller. “Ar-Hur could not bear for his father’s final journey to be mired in hatred. He was not a hard Elf, and, because he carried no true evil within him, his heart was clouded with confusing emotions. Thinking that Ra-El would have wished it so, he had his brother brought to the tomb to speak his own final words.
	Ar-Hur failed to see the hatred El-Hur openly bore and the loathing plainly written on his face. If he had looked into the blood-tinted eyes of his twin he would have seen the true nature that was El-Hur.
	But he did not look. His senses felt nothing but sorrow. His mind was filled with the knowledge that his world was now barren and empty, his life less now that his father did not share it...”

	...The burial chants were completed, and the Wise Ones waited solemnly by the edge of the gaping burial hole. Soon the vault would be sealed, forever condemned to eternal mournfulness, but, for now, the portal doors forward swing was halted, patiently waiting the final, tragic farewells.
	Ar-Hur lead the Royal Family into the vault to send his father on his way. Being a creature of light, he shuddered as he took measured steps into the cloying murk. Bowing his head, he whispered, “Farewell, my Lord. May your journey be swift and your path filled with the brilliant glow of the jewel.”
	A snicker echoed out from behind him, shattering the solemnness of the ceremony. He swung his head toward the sound and met with the leering features of his twin. It was too much. Reaching out, he struck El-Hur hard across his smirking face.
	The ‘lost one’ stumbled backward but managed to steady himself against a marble tomb of some forgotten ancestor. Raising a trembling hand to his cracked lips, he looked with disbelief into the glowing eyes of his brother.
	Then he laughed.
	The sound echoed loudly in the solemn tomb, shifting Ar-Hur’s already unbalanced temper.
	Turning, he left the tomb, dragging El-Hur behind him. Blinking into the glare of the first cycle, Ar-Hur signaled to his mounted warriors. They swung their mounts through the crowd and pulled up beside the new King.
	“Bring forth our mounts. We ride at once to the boundaries of Ra-Jee,” he stated in a tightly controlled tone.
	The nearest warrior whistled a sharp, piercing command and spare mounts were brought into view. With barely a backwards glance at his father’s tomb, he tossed El-Hur like a bundle of rags onto an awaiting mount. “Watch him closely,” he commanded to the warrior before him.
	Then Ar-Hur turned to mount, “Now, El-Hur, you shall have what you have strived so hard to obtain. You shall have all that you deserve.”
	“Ah, your head,” El-Hur’s voice sang. He smirked openly at his inept sibling. “Or do you offer more?”
	“Nay, not my head, but the crown you have coveted. We go to find a kingdom that befits you. We shall toss you into the mists, there to rule all others who have gone before. Aye, you shall have all that you deserve,” he repeated as he gave the signal to move out...

	“...The ride had been long and painful. It had taken many cycles to reach the mists of Ra-Jee. Throughout the journey Ar-Hur had remained silent and moody, ignoring his brother’s frequent barbs. His temper had abated, leaving him melancholy and bereft...”

	...He sat his mount and watched the play of light waft across the foggy wall. His heart was heavy, and he did not relish this first act he must perform as Ra-Jee’s new King.
	Dismounting, he turned his face upwards to look upon El-Hur one last time. Studying the sneering features, Ar-Hur sighed. There was no hope for his twin. He must banish him to restore the harmony to the land. For him there was no other choice.
	Ar-Hur barked, “Here, stand down!” pointing expectedly to the ground before him.
	His brother chuckled. With a shrug, he dismounted, taking a stance that appeared easy and unconcerned. Contemplating the new King, he implored sarcastically, “I see that you are determined to act out this little charade. Would you have me beg for forgiveness? Shall I bend my knee to the great Ar-Hur and cry foul for my folly? Would you like that, Ar-Hur?”
	Ar-Hur eyed him stonily. Raising his hand for silence, he shouted into the crisp, still air, “From this time forward, onward into eternity, you shall be banished. You are denied entrance to our grand land, and your soul’s magic shall be eradicated. You are now a non Elf...less than a shadow. You are adrift with no Race to call your own. Our Race will not speak your name, and none will mourn your passing. I cast you out! To us, you are now dead.”
	El-Hur laughed while examining his silken surcoat. Ar-Hur watched him closely, looking for any sign of remorse. He saw none. Shaking his head at the hopeless situation, he cried, “Have you no compunction? Is there nothing in your soul but greed and hatred?”
	“I have much to be thankful for, so I see no need to feel any remorse. I go now, but I go with a warning on my lips...I will return!”
	“Perhaps, but I think you dream falsely. I ask you once again, have you any remorse? Do you wish to free your soul of your sins before you are forced into the mists?”
	“Aye, I admit that I carry remorse...remorse and regrets that I cannot take you into the darkness with me. How I long to see you on bended knee, begging for what you will never own. But these desires will have to wait. Let me depart by adding, dear brother, never turn your back. Never relax your guard, for I might be lingering in the shadows.”
	He turned a gleeful eye to Ar-Hur and pointed a warning digit in his face, “Heed my words well, for I will return to wreck havoc on your line. Tell your sons and daughters of my warning, for I will have my revenge, and then all I desire shall be mine.”
	“Enough,” Ar-Hur thundered. “By the Ancients, you are a demon. I summon the power of the Crystal and all the energy within the land to aid me in my act. Wring the magic from his soul, for he is unworthy of the blessings. Rend it from his blood, erase all resemblance to our proud Race. Heed me, my Ancients. Give me the power to perform my task.”
	Wind buffeted them from all sides as the power of the Ancients rallied to Ar-Hur’s call. Lightning crashed in the distance, and clouds quickly formed, swiftly chasing away the brightness of first cycle. A glow encircled Ar-Hur, making him appear godly as he stood illuminated within its hues.
	Bringing a condemning hand up from his side, he pointed a rigid finger toward El-Hur. A glow formed at the tip, building swiftly into a pulsing ball of flame. He set it free. It leaped outward, arching toward his twin. The bolt struck him square in the chest, flinging El-Hur high into the darkened sky, there to remain entrapped by the power, suspended in midair as the energy crackled and flared around his limp form.
	The glow drained away sluggishly, departing with a loud pop as it vanished into the ebbing winds. The clouds pulled back, allowing the sunlight to once again shine warmly on their upturned faces. The only sound was that of El-Hur’s moans as he was flung to the ground like nothing more than useless tatters.
	“Bring him!” Ar-Hur commanded in clipped tones. “Toss him into the void and do not look again on his wretched face. He is less than a shadow, and we cannot see him while in the light!”
	The warriors pulled El-Hur’s listless form to the edges of the wispy fog. He did not fight them, allowing instead to be dragged like a heavy bale of fodder.
	The mist reacted, aware that he was near. It strained tiny tentacles of feathery smoke out to caress his languishing form...making its desire known. He lay still, cheek pressed against the cool, moist earth, moaning.
	Ar-Hur’s shadow drew over his slumped form as he bent down to examine him. El-Hur looked up through red-rimmed lids, prepared to snarl into his victorious face, but instead knew shock.
	Ar-Hur’s golden orbs held pity...pity for him. “Farewell, my brother,” he whispered and then gently rolled El-Hur’s prone form into the sucking, hungry mist.
	The muffled sounds of their departure echoed loudly through the concealing mist, causing him to smile. He rose and laughed, his own voice a loud resonant swirling about him. “Fools! Did Ar-Hur truly think he was stripping me of my power?” he huffed with indignation.
	A hoarse chuckle escaped his snarling lips as he looked down to his clinched fist. Allowing it to uncurl, he smiled triumphantly at the sight of the black talisman lying snugly in the center of his palm.
	“Ah, my precious beauty. Glad I am that I discovered your charms. For without your shielding magic, I fear I would have been devoured. But now, thanks to your charms, I am only tired.”
	The stone, a polished black pebble, was a type of drawing stone created long ago as a shield against magical assault. The making of such things long forgotten...but still potent.
	He was glad he had discovered its charms. He remained drained, but his magic was intact...only in need of rest. It would take time. The Ancients’ magic had been very powerful, much stronger than he had thought possible. Ar-Hur’s own power had been stronger than he had given him credit for. He would require many phasings of deep slumber before he would regain his strength, but he would rebound, thanks to the black stone...

	“...I was born,” reflected the Del-a-Shar as he rose from the fogs of bitter memories...

	“...Time flew by, and life returned to normal within the Kingdom called Ra-Jee,” stated the Storyteller. “Many, many phasings came and went, growing old as new ones rushed in to fill the void. Time, ever vigilant, marched forward, erasing all memory of El-Hur from the minds of the Elves.”
	He sighed, rubbing his weary back, thinking that soon he would be through and the long promised, eagerly awaited sleep would be his. Maybe the magic would finally release him from the torment of the others memories...all their memories.
	“By now, Ar-Hur had a son named Ra-Ree, a fine young Elf and a source of pride to his sire.”
	He winked and smiled at the children. “Ra-Ree had joined with a sweet Elfen maiden named Sal-May and had quickly presented Ar-Hur and Sar-Ion with a handsome grandson...Ar-Ion.”
	“Ar-Ion was Ra-May’s father, wasn’t he, Storyteller?” piped up a small voice from the ring of children.
	“Yes, he was. It is good to know that you have been paying attention. It seemed that harmony had finally come to stay within the Elfen valley...but had it really?...”

	“...Man has dared to violate our homes!” roared the tall Elf. “Man has come into our Valley under a false flag of friendship. While we offered them shelter, sharing our simple fare most sincerely, they were plotting their evil plans.”
	Ar-Hur raised his hands for silence. Nothing was going to be accomplished if they all argued at once. Seated upon the dais within the meeting hall, he watched through veiled lids as all within took their seats and awaited his words. He already knew what must be done, but he did not relish the act.
	“My friends, we have been set upon by Man. They by their very acts have declared their intent. We must ride out and put an end to the crimes of their Race. It is with heavy heart that I call a Council of War...”

	“...And so, while the Kingdom prepared for war, another prepared for its downfall.”
	The old man shook his head and continued, “I don’t need to tell you who it was that set Man upon the Elves, do I? No, I didn’t think so.”
	“El-Hur was once again stirring the pot of destruction. He had plotted and finally lied, telling the humans that the Elves possessed great magic, and it could be theirs if they were quick enough. He instructed them in the art of the blade, telling them that they must strike fast and linger long over the slain bodies. When an Elf died, he lied, the magic sought out a new vessel, and they would then be gifted with that power if they remained near.”
	“Oh, what a hateful Elf!” stated a tiny, high-pitched voice.
	“Yes, hateful and very dangerous...”

	“...But Father, I can aid you,” Ra-Ree pleaded. “Let me ride by your side and help put an end to this evil.”
	“Nay,” replied the King. “You must stay behind and rule the Valley in my absence. Ar-Ion is young and needs tending, who better than his father to see to his needs? Nay, you shall serve me best by remaining here in my absence.”
	Re-Ree clasped his father’s warm, outstretched arm and nodded. He would remain behind and protect the Valley although his heart would not be in it.
	“It will strengthen my soul and give me peace to know that Ra-Jee is in your capable hands. Be a good Ruler, my son.”
	“Father, you speak as if you are doomed. Do not dwell on such dark thoughts. You will return quickly, this I am assured, and harmony will reside once again within the Valley.”
	“I will return if the Crystal is willing. In truth, I do not wish to leave. It is my duty as King, and so I shall go and hopefully put a quick end to this menace called Man. But, I will not return until it is ended if I am able to return at all.”
	The prince nodded while pulling his father into a long, emotional embrace. Reluctantly, they parted, both with the moistness of unshed tears lingering within their eyes.
	Ar-Hur, mounted on his powerful stallion, waved a final farewell as he lead a column of warriors away from the shining Palace. Ra-Ree waved at his departing back and sighed, already missing him.
	The cycle grew long as the sun traveled westward across the horizon, but Ar-Hur barely noted its passage. His thoughts were traveling down dusty paths that existed in a time long gone. He heard again his brother’s taunting words, heavily laced with the threat of revenge.
	He thought it odd that he should recall his warnings now as he traveled out to wage war on a little known Race. It had been countless phasings since his brother had been tossed into the mists.
	He had often thought of El-Hur. His heart and mind always filling with sadness when he remembered the last time he had seen him. But he had not taken the threat seriously then.
	Now he knew he had been a fool. His twin had named him true. He had no proof, but his instincts told him to believe what he could not see. Somehow, El-Hur was behind these attacks. Somehow, he had survived.
	‘It was a curse of the ‘Gold’,’ he thought, ‘to always seek the light that was buried within the darkness.’
	To be born of the ‘Gold’, wrapped protectively within its pure light, left him isolated and naive. He possessed great knowledge, he owned tremendous power, but all was for naught when he searched only for the goodness that lay hidden and ignored the maliciousness at the surface.
	‘I am not shrewd nor am I enamored with protective hardness. Must I forever judge with my heart? I am better suited for the life of a Wise One than the Ruler of Ra-Jee.’
	He sighed, acknowledging the truth of his thoughts, “Aye, my heart has never been hard or tough enough to do true justice to the crown. I am useless...”

	“...No, he was not,” corrected the old man, his raspy voice growing shrill. “He was much more, and the Crystal understood even if Ar-Hur did not.”
	He smiled, thinking about others from this lone Elf’s bloodline, all with their own self-doubts. Each in turn had wondered many of the same thoughts. Each had been forced by their surroundings to face their own demons and had managed to rise far above their fragile expectations.
	His smile deepened, relishing the memories as he began anew to recite his tale...

	...Time passed, and still no news came from King Ar-Hur or his troops. Ra-Ree had remained faithful to his father and had guarded the Valley, but his responsibilities did not stop his heart from worrying.
	He endeavored to remain focused on the duties before him, but his thoughts always strayed, his concern for his father’s safety becoming paramount.
	This lack of concentration boded ill with him. He began to see it as an omen, a warning of ominous proportions, and fear took root within his soul.
	Unable to shake the dread encasing him, he went to his study and began to pen a missive to be taken to his father. If he did not hear word soon, his doubts would become overpowering.
	A strange noise penetrated his thoughts, the sound emanating from below his balcony. He looked toward the open doorway with subdued interest.
	Disheartened, he pushed the parchment away. Leaning his weary brow within the cradle of his upturned hands, he sighed. Again the sound came, burrowing into his subconscious to effectively break through to his fevered mind.
	Puzzled, he rose to peer out, wondering why the guards had not taken care of the annoyance by now. Stepping out to stand on the balcony, he scanned the horizon before him but saw nothing.
	‘Perhaps it is my own soul screaming its torment,’ he thought.
	Shrugging, he made an attempt to retreat back into the cool shadows of his study. From the corner of his eye he saw a ray of light wink at him from the normally dense forest. He stared, but no other beacon could be seen.
	Again he turned his back to the forest, again another shaft of light captured his attention. Turning swiftly, he focused his sight on the murky haze, trying to discern what hid just outside of his Elfen gaze.
	He gasped when the lone rider emerged from the heavy foliage, heading straight for the Palace gates, sitting his mount in a haphazard, enfeeble way. Hunched low over the pommel, he appeared barely able to remain mounted.
	Recognizing the rider did nothing to assuage his fears. Rather, his blood grew chilled, and he found himself unable to breathe in steady rhythm.
	“By the Ancients,” he whispered and left his study at a run.
	“What has happened?”
	His feet did not slow as he raced to give aid.
	Reaching him as he entered the gates, Ra-Ree lifted the wounded Elf down. Pulling his frail frame close, he looked around for others who could help, but there were none.
	Weakly, the Elf whispered, “The Crystal! Take me to the jewel, it will heal me.”
	‘Of course,’ Ra-Ree thought. ‘The Crystal was truly his salvation.’
	He sighed, feeling a measure of hope nestle within his soul. “Aye, Father. At once. The jewel will make you whole. Come, I will take you there.”
	With the King leaning heavily upon his shoulder, they hastened downward into the lair of the Crystal. The young prince could feel the weakness wafting off his father. His fear grew.
	‘He will be well!’ Ra-Ree silently commanded. ‘He is Ar-Hur.’
	Once within the cool solar of the great jewel, Ra-Ree released his grip, laying his charge gently upon the smooth floor before the Crystal.
	The King raised a bloody hand upward, gasping from his effort, and moaned, “Kneel down beside me. Give me your support as I call to the jewel for a decision. In time you shall rule, and I will be no more. It is best you learn about unpleasant things now.”
	“Do not speak so. The Crystal will heal you. You shall once again sit upon the throne. It will be many phasings before I am forced to sit in your place.”
	“I think, young pup, that you are right. It shall be a long time indeed before you are allowed to rule Ra-Jee.”
	‘Why has Father spoken so?’ Ra-Ree wondered, his alarm growing.
	He turned questioning eyes upon his sire, gazing into the twisted features of a stranger, he saw his folly. This was not his beloved father. How could he have ever thought so? This thing was a creature of evil, a malignant shade, a mockery of all his father stood for.
	The demon easily conveyed its intentions with just a smirk, his disdain for the young prince evident in that sneer.
	“Nay, you shall not rule soon nor shall you ever have that honor. Nay, not while I am here to arrange things.”
	Ra-Ree backed away from its foulness, trying to find a safe haven amidst the nightmare he now found himself ensconced.
	With a swift movement that belied the creature’s appearance, a hand snaked out, striking the young prince cruelly across the face. His head jerked back, and he tasted coppery liquid as it flowed freely from his mouth. Dreamily, Ra-Ree raised a shaky hand toward his lips. In shock, he did not think to watch the demon for his next attack.
	When the blade pierced his heart, Ra-Ree was wondering how he could have been so blind. The pain, when it came, acted as a catalyst, giving him perfect clarity in his final moments.
	“Father!” the prince screamed and sank to the floor. With eyes turned toward the Crystal, he gave a soft sigh and released his final breath, surrendering his soul to the Ancients.
	Standing above the fallen lad, El-Hur laughed. A pool of crimson flowed aimlessly across the smooth, stone floor. The same warm liquid dripped from his curled fist, each droplet falling to the marble floor with a pregnant repetition, the red droplets gliding along its surface to create an eerie motif.
	The jewel began to hum a mournful song, mingling its echo to the blood pooled below it.
	The Crystal, finally freed from the darkness that had silenced it, sprang to life. Gathering its power about it like a shield, it snatched Ra-Ree’s dying breath and sent the desperate plea outward to race with the wind.
	Ar-Hur was leaning against an accommodating oak standing within a secluded glade, quietly sharing a moment of happiness with his warriors. They had been victorious in sealing the borders from Man and now were preparing to return home.
	It had been a long campaign, and not one he was eager to repeat. His joy was near complete. All that was lacking was the comfort of his family. Once within their embrace, he would again know true contentment.
	Yet upon the breeze flowed the beginnings of his doom. The magic swooped downward, rocking him with its emotional intensity as it released the full emotional force of Ra-Ree’s anguished cry.
	The pain ripped through him, dredging up emotions that he did not know he was capable of harboring. He felt hopeless, lost, and betrayed. He grieved yet hungered for instant revenge.
	The Crystal felt these emotions and was unable to comprehend. Within the Keep, its fiery glow intensified while El-Hur looked on nervously. Having used up his own font of strength in muzzling the detestable jewel long enough to secure a measure of his revenge, he had nothing left to fight with.
	He watched its center erupt with brilliant flame and fan outward from its core, traveling swiftly upward, away from its clear center.
	He stepped back as a branch of the flame licked recklessly along the delicate side. A small crack appeared along its narrow side, widening, forcing the tear to expand until it finally exploded, shearing a small edge of the jewel away from the main body. The shard fell to the floor with an unnatural, chilling peal.
	He stood transfixed, staring down at the shard while it spun in reckless, drunken circles. It seemed to shutter. Then, with one final echoing protest, it lay quiet, surrendering itself to the stillness surrounding it.
	He threw back his head in joyful triumph. “Ah, it is possible to harm the great and mighty Crystal.”
	Immensely pleased with this unplanned event, he knew that now with the Crystal shattered he would be able to defeat Ar-Hur. Nothing would stand in his way. “Soon all shall be mine!”
	Reaching down, he snatched up the shard and cupped it within his clinched fist. Looking around the Keep, admiring his handy work, he howled, shattering the reposing solitude of the tomb.
	“Soon, Ar-Hur, soon. But, alas, I am forced to retire and plan my next assault for another phasing. But you will, one cycle, bend your knee to me in defeat. This I promise.”
	He slipped from the Keep to quickly merge with the shadows and disappear...

	“...He was nothing but a coward, a leech upon the face of the land!” spat the Storyteller.
	The children stared at him with eyes that seemed too large for their tiny, oval faces. They were his for the taking, wherever he wanted to lead them. He smiled a lopsided grin.
	“But the Crystal left her mark on El-Hur, although he was too engrossed in his own self-satisfaction to notice. The shard he had pocketed as a memento to his so-called victory, still carried the threads of magic that linked it to the Ancients. That flame smoldered and burned, taking from him a memento of its own.”
	“What was it? What did the gem do?” asked an older voice. The old man smiled secretively, then nodded. “But can you not guess? It marked him, scarring his soul and his appearance so no one would ever mistake him for her precious child again. He was a creature of the dark magic that he wielded, and, as such, he would also appear so forever. He became the Del-a-Shar.”
	“But I stray. I must finish this sad little path my story has taken.”
	The children drew nearer.
	“Ar-Hur returned and buried his son. And as I have stated before, he knew that he must protect his family from the evil that was El-Hur. The only way to protect them, he finally understood, was to leave them. He had been a fool, but he was determined to correct his waywardness. And so, he left his beloved Kingdom, banishing himself into the lands of Man. But before he stepped into the mists, he wove one last spell, creating one last attempt to save Ra-Jee. From that cycle on, no Elf would be able to call their true magic...it would become only a distant memory while its essence became Ra-Jee’s protective shield.”
	“The stage is now set, my children, for the last entry of my tale.”
	A few children squirmed as they made themselves comfortable.
	The old man reached for a flagon of ale and drank deeply. He sighed as he emptied the flask, sad to see it gone, and then shrugged.
	“Now we return to our friends, Michall and Ra-May. Have you wondered what became of them?”
	They nodded.
	A deep voice called out, “Yes, Storyteller, do tell us. What happened to your young prince and his Elfen bride?”
	Blue eyes that denied his body’s age scanned over the heads of the children, searching.
	Feeling hope surge anew within his ancient bones, he straightened his bowed shoulders and motioned for another flagon of ale. With renewed vigor, he began, “Now back in Sol...”

Chapter Forty-one
Hear Me

	Alone for the first time in many phasings, she lolled upon the bed, lost in thought. Her companions were out exploring unused or long abandoned caverns, searching for any clue that might aid them. She did not need to search, she already had the solution to their dilemma.
	She rolled over on her stomach with lazy preoccupation. Michall had asked her to go with them, but she had declined. He had raised a questioning brow but had asked nothing. For once, she had been grateful for his silence.
	She imagined that he would wonder about her behavior throughout first cycle. ‘Why did she not want to explore?’ he would puzzle. ‘She was more of an adventurer than he,’ he would reason. It would give him pause.
	Then he would begin to speculate. ‘What had caused this somber mood?’ No answer would come. Questions would swirl within his mind until his confusion became insurmountable.
	Once his thoughts reached the level that generated fear, he would return to their chamber to seek answers that would allay his troubled soul. But she would not be there when he arrived.
	She had formulated her plans even before Michall’s decision to explore the caves had been announced. Indeed, she was grateful he had left, for she did not think that she would have had the courage to leave if he were near. And leave she must if she wished her companions to remain safe.
	She rose.
	Stretching her arms upward, she worked her lean body free of kinks. She thought herself ready. Squaring her shoulders and lifting her head high, she quickly left the chamber. She moved silently along the dusky corridors, relying on her Elfen vision to navigate without the aid of a torch.
	Her thoughts were centered upon her purpose, her objectives were clear. She allowed nothing to dissuade her from her course. It was time to act. Time to be all that she had been born to be. Time to face the Del-a-Shar and put an end to this madness...

	“...But she had forgotten things that were of import,” cried the old man. “She’d forgotten the advice of the Crystal, the warning of the Great Tree, the wisdom of her heritage. All these things had scurried that she and Michall were as one. Together they would conquer much but divided would become the vanquished.”
	He shook his head sadly, “Ra-May, in her haste to protect the one she loved, had unknowingly opened the doors to even greater harm...”

	...Reaching the exit to the main cavern, she expelled tension-filled breath. She had not been challenged, or hailed as she had made her way through the tunnels. She had met many, but she had been ignored as they went about their duties. All was going as planned.
	She eyed the ceiling prodigiously. The cavern really was immense, its size beyond any comparison she could call to mind.
	Shrugging, she put away her awe and surveyed the chamber for prying eyes. She saw none.
	Departing from here would make it harder for Michall to follow her. If El-Cha was able to sense her magic, then he would have to come here to the opposite side of the caverns to discern which way she went. It would buy her needed time.
	Gripping Ar-Hur’s ring tightly in her palm, she gave a silent prayer of thanks to his spirit. If not for his ring, a vessel of needed information, she would not have the knowledge of her full potential available to her.
	Raising her arms above her head, she drew upon the knowledge now. The magic flowed freely, cascading in multicolored splendor down her still form. She shimmered. Fading slowly, in moments, she was gone.
	When she materialized, she found herself standing upon the warm, sandy beaches of lower Sol. The sun was still high in the sky, having many more positions yet to pose before the moon arrived to banish its light. She nodded in satisfaction. There would be time enough left her.
	She walked silently across the burning sand but did not notice the heat. Tears flowed unnoticed from her golden orbs as she imagined Michall’s reaction when he discovered her gone. The image made her cringe.
	But, she reasoned, he would understand once he examined the situation. It was right that she face the Del-a-Shar alone. It was right that she risk no one -- none save for herself.
	Her tears fell harder. ‘Was it not better and kinder to give a little pain in order to save him from a horrible death?’
	‘Aye, it was,’ her subconscious maintained.
	She wiped the tears roughly from her face, ashamed that she had given in to such desperation. Squaring her shoulders, she managed to rein in her wayward emotions. Ra-Nu had trained her to be a warrior, and a warrior’s way would have to be adopted if she hoped to outwit the Del-a-Shar. It was time to send forth her challenge. If the Del-a-Shar was near, he would understand. If he was near, then the end to this nightmare would not be far behind him.
	Whose end...she did not know.
	She tapped her inner power and drew upon a small measure, feeling its warmth fill her and fortify her resolve. It was now or never. She sent her thoughts outward, cocooned within the protective glow of magic.
	The tightly woven knot resembled a child’s ball as it raced along the beach at a lightning pace, dodging and bouncing across the sand, hunting for the illusive receiver but unsure as to which trail it should pursue.
	Then, as a hound on the scent of its prey, the sphere left the beach and plunged into the frothy waters that made up much of Sol. Confusion was erased, its prey was near. Downward it raced, deep into the murky, desolate waters, until it located the one it had been sent to find.
	Diving into the sanctuary, the sphere shattered the darkness within with its golden light.
	The intended calmly waited, anticipating its arrival.
	Bursting into a thousand parts, Ra-May’s words were thrust forward, filling the chamber’s four corners. Her voice echoed off the slick walls and filled the Del-a-Shar’s mind.
	“Hear me, ’O foul one. I am here, and I await. Come to me, if you dare. I am Ra-May, daughter of Ar-Ion, grand to Ra-Ree and great to my Lord Ar-Hur. Come and face me.”
	He chuckled, the sound raspy and hoarse. “Soon, little princess, soon. You must have patience. Our reunion will be a sweet one, but, for now, you must wait.”
	He folded his twisted hands upon his lap and smirked.
	Closing his eyes, he savored the nearness of his victory. “This eve, with the moon as my lantern, I shall rip your bloody, beating heart from your fragile chest. I shall keep you alive long enough for you to share in my victory. My strength shall be amplified as I look deeply into your frightened eyes. I shall caress your heart, feeling its warmth fade even as I relish the sight of understanding dawn within those golden orbs. I shall enjoy watching you come to terms with your impending death and the knowledge that you have lost everything. There will be no escaping me this time.”
	Standing, he began to pace the chamber, too excited to sit quietly within the comforting darkness and await the appointed time.
	“Then,” he sneered, “if I have not found enough pleasure in your terror-filled stare, I shall show you a vision of your companions as they topple. You seem quite fond of the large human, perhaps your pet will be the first to succumb to my power. Perhaps then I shall see in eyes so like Ar-Hur’s real horror. Aye, that would be the ultimate prize. Mayhap then I would allow you to die...or mayhap not.”
	He laughed, knowing it would not be long now. It was all he had promised himself, and she had made it so easy...

	“...Things do not look at all well for Ra-May,” admonished the Storyteller.
	He let his blue eyes scan the faces before him. He was tired, so very tired. Just a few more lines to his tale, and then, hopefully, eternal rest would be his. His body ached for peace. His mind, once sharp, longed for rest.
	“It would seem that the Del-a-Shar thought Michall nothing more than Ra-May’s plaything. Humans did not concern him, they were useless creatures...”

	...Ruhtra sensed the magic and perceived the emotions. He felt her fear and knew his own. He took note of her determination, even numbed as she was by her fear, and vowed he would aid her if he could. He could do no less...

	...Michall returned to their assigned chamber, excusing himself from the rest by confessing he was not quite ready for the arduous strains such a search placed on his recent wounds.
	In truth, his leg was well on the way to being completely mended. Aside from an occasional stiffness, he felt fine.
	A sensation of dread had struck him early into their little excursion and had steadfastly refused to be ignored. He had been mildly perplexed by Ra-May’s refusal to accompany them but had shrugged it off. She was most likely exhausted, he had thought then, and needed time to herself. He understood feelings such as those, he had them often enough himself.
	He had immersed himself in the search, hoping they would find some clue that would aid them. But they had found nothing. He soon lost interest in his surroundings and allowed his mind to concentrate solely on his mate. That was when the dread overcame him.
	Now standing in the portal of his chamber, he was assaulted by the absolute emptiness that filled it and attacked by silence so complete that it shattered his nerves. His knees grew weak. The nothingness within seemed to snake out from the vague shadows before him, driving cold daggers of panic into his unprotected soul.
	He needed no spoken word to decipher the message created by the lifeless chamber.
	He pulled Power from its resting place along the wall, welcoming its reassuring weight as he strapped it across his broad back. He clinched his fists into iron balls, fighting the urge to react hastily. He must use his wits if they were to succeed. He knew without a doubt that if he allowed himself to lose control, then all was lost.
	Leaving the chamber without sparing it a backward glance, he stalked the hand-hued tunnels in search of his companions.
	El-Cha looked up to see Michall’s rigid form striding purposely toward them and raised a hand to motion for a halt. Ra-Nu eyed him uncertainly. Raising a brow, he opened his mouth to ask what the tiny Elf was about, but the words died in his throat.
	El-Cha pointed. Sighting down his arm, Ra-Nu went rigid, his limbs refusing to cooperate with the surging demands of his mind.
	Michall emerged from the shadows. Within the opaque depths of his stare one could read the awful truth of what had transpired.
	“When?” Ra-Nu asked even as he prepared his mind for the upcoming battle.
	“Now!” Michall commanded. “She has already departed. It seems that we have run out of options.”
	Ra-Nu growled. He should have seen this coming. His Ra-May was a headstrong, impatient Elf. Grinding his teeth in anger, he reflected, “She is rash and naive enough to believe that she can win this battle alone. And alone, she will die if we do not make haste.”
	His words strengthened the terror already growing in Michall’s soul, but he refused to allow the emotion to hinder him. Emotions could be played upon and turned to another’s advantage. He didn’t intend to become a pawn in someone else's game. He had a different game he wished to play. A game he intended to win!
	One of the Blues walked boldly up to Michall and touched his arm. He looked down into Mist’s serious face.
	“Let us help you. Let us add our arms to your need. Is it not our fight too?”
	The prince looked to his companions. They nodded as one. He did the same.
	Soon the tunnels were ringing with the confused shouts of many leaders trying to hastily organize many more warriors.
	“Enough!” Michall bellowed into the confusion before him. “We have no more time. We must be on our way.”
	“Listen,” El-Cha intoned into the crowd. “I have an idea that just might aid us. May I have leave to express myself?” He looked to Michall for permission to continue.
	Michall nodded.
	Bowing his gratitude, El-Cha stated clearly, “It becomes apparent that some, or mayhap many, carefully maneuvered ploys must be employed if we hope to succeed. We cannot go above ground with half-formulated, unorganized schemes.”
	He waited until he had everyone’s undivided attention before continuing.
	“If we plan our attack carefully, from as many angles as we can manage, we will achieve far better results.”
	“Enough, little Elf. Speak now of your plan or stand aside. I am in no mood to wait here while you talk the others into compliance.”
	El-Cha cringed at Ra-Nu’s harsh words but continued, “What I propose is this: Ra-Nu and Michall should lead a group topside. There perhaps they will be able to aid Ra-May in whatever course she has set into motion. I, Phillip, and the Fire Elves will travel, taking several Blues with us, toward the caves that Tidus has described. Hopefully his memory has not faded.”
	“What?” Phillip chimed in then. “We don’t even know for sure where these caves are. If we are able to locate them, and if we don’t get ourselves lost, or killed first, what do you hope to accomplish once there?”
	Michall looked on expectantly.
	“It has occurred to me that these caves hold some special portent to the Del-a-Shar’s power. Mayhap they are necessary to his very existence. If we could find these caves, and if they serve as an energy source, then somehow dam them, then it might be possible to stymie the Del-a-Shar enough to give us the edge.”
	“And do you also have some elaborate scheme on how all this is going to be accomplished?” spat Ra-Nu. “We do not even know for sure if these caves exist. All we have is the word of an old, addle-minded Blue and an ancient mural that holds more dust than information.” He turned away and waved them off. “I’m tired of talk. I’m ready to taste action.”
	El-Cha acted as if he had not heard the sarcasm in his friend’s voice. “Nay, I have no scheme. No certain course. Only my faith that this is my reason for being here. Trust me, old friend, this is my one great move in the game.” He winked as he added, “Of course, we do have Phillip’s map.”
	“My map?” Phillip asked, honestly confused.
	“Aye, that wonderful map that shows all the tunnels and caves riddling the underworld of Sol!” the little Elf agreed. “With those we will find large caverns easily.”
	The warrior nodded before extending his hand. “May the Crystal guide you, my friend, upon your chosen path.”
	“I believe she already has. Indeed, I believe she has.”
	“What do you expect me to do?” Phillip chimed in. “If you want the map, then take it but why me too? I’d rather go with Michall.”
	“I am not endowed with a skilled sword arm, Phillip, as are you. I may have need of your protection while in the caves.”
	Phillip shook his head as if to deny him, but El-Cha would have none of it. “Do not belie your talent with the blade. I will feel safer if you are near. Please, I have great need of you.”
	‘A fine protector I’ve turned out to be,’ he thought. ‘I couldn’t stop Michall from being wounded, or prevent us from becoming separated. I’ve failed at everything I’ve promised myself I would achieve. How can I ever redeem myself in his eyes?’
	Looking toward Michall, he sighed.
	Michall’s dark stare met his lighter one. Within his eyes he could read his fate. Michall didn’t need him. Michall could take care of himself. But El-Cha did need him. He nodded, voicing no arguments. It seemed that his course had been preordained.
	“Go with care, my friends. If you accomplish this feat, then meet us topside,” Michall instructed. “If events transpire as I fear they will, then we’ll need you.”
	The prince turned away, his long strides carrying him quickly away from them.
	Mist caught up to him. Grabbing his arm, she forced him to swing about and look at her. With a slight bow of her head, she said, “We will follow you.”
	Michall studied the stern, impassive faces of the females lining the tunnel. Each tinted face set firm with determination, each Warrior of the Blues gripping their shields before them, giving the impression that they were ready to give their lives if they must. He ran a hand through his hair and allowed a deep sigh to escape his lips.
	Placing Mist before him, he stated, “Fine, then you may lead the way. Find me the quickest path to the surface.” He gently nudged her forward.
	“One last thing, my prince, before you embark.”
	Michall halted. With yet another sigh, he turned back to face the fair Elf.
	El-Cha nodded when he saw that he had his attention, then continued, “Use that which is buried deep within you to shield you. Ask the sword to be your champion, and it will obey. All will be set right if only you believe.”
	Michall smiled. It was a small gesture, really nothing more than a quick upward movement of the lips, but in that smile El-Cha had seen understanding...and hope.
	He turned away from the prince, unwilling to reveal the depths of his unsteady emotions. When he dared to look again, Michall was gone.
	“Crystal, may you guide and protect your children,” El-Cha whispered into the gloom.
	Phillip leaned against a nearby wall, quietly waiting for someone to make a move. He raised a questioning brow toward El-Cha but said nothing. Tilly sat upon his shoulder, serenely willing to go wherever he led.
	Somehow, in an odd and unusual way, the picture seemed complete to El-Cha. He made a mental note, quickly filing it away for future investigation.
	“Shall we be off, my companions? We have a part to play in this rather ugly game...an end to achieve.”
	‘An end? Yes, but whose?’ Phillip thought. ‘Shall this be the end of us all? Will we even remember our friendships when we all meet again at the Gates of Eternity?’ Sighing, he straightened his shoulders and stated, “I’m ready when you are, my friend. Lead on.”
	El-Cha winked, his eagerness evident in his cool, blue eyes. “Aye, we go, but not in the manner that you expect. Draw near and take hold of my hands. Phillip, I shall need the map. We are about to defy time and employ the magic to aid us.”
	“Oh, no,” Phillip argued, backing away from the others. “The last time you pulled something like this, I didn’t like where we landed.”
	“The Human is correct,” Torch announced, joining Phillip in his protests.
	El-Cha chuckled, taking no offense. “Different circumstances, very different type of magic. Come, trust me. We do not have the time to argue.”
	He held out his hand, never doubting that Phillip would step near and accept it. “Now do not release your hold or that of another, and all will be well.”
	Phillip clutched El-Cha’s hand in a tight, unrelenting fist. He closed his eyes tight and bit his lower lip as the magic was summoned.
	There was the faint touch of a cool breeze as it lifted his golden bangs from his creased brow, and then it was gone, replaced by a lightness of body. Strangely relaxed, he felt a sense of inner peace. He loosened his grip, surprised to discover that he was enjoying the whirling, alien sensations...

	...From far away, deep within his watery caves, the Del-a-Shar felt El-Cha’s spell. “Mayhap the blood has grown weaker with the lengthening of time.”
	He laughed. It did not matter. Whoever the user had been held no great power. There was nothing there for him to worry about. He returned to his preparations, looking forward to darkfall...

	...El-Cha knew that El-Hur had tasted his power and found him lacking but did not care. Once they entered the caves, then whatever power was left him he would use against the Del-a-Shar. It would be enough...

	...Michall and Ra-Nu, accompanied by the Blues, wound their way ever upward in the cramped tunnels, not having the advantage of magic to speed them on their way.
	As they climbed, Ra-May’s image filled Michall’s mind. Shaking his head vigorously, he forced his thoughts away from imagined tortures to instead review El-Cha’s parting words.
	He frowned. ‘What’s buried in you, my steely companion, that will aid me?’ he wondered, looking over his shoulder at the blade’s hilt as it bobbed into view.
	“Go ahead.”
	He turned his head toward the sound.
	Ra-Nu nodded at the sword and repeated, “Go ahead.”
	His face reddened. Caught in his own foolishness, he snapped, “Go ahead and what?”
	“Ask the sword. I can see the need in your eyes. Go ahead and ask it what you will.”
	Michall halted in mid-stride. Staring into Ra-Nu’s knowing features, he wondered, ‘How had he known what my thoughts were just then?’
	Ra-Nu stopped and leaned upon the smooth cavern wall. “It can do no harm to ask, and it just may be that El-Cha knew what he was saying. He is much like Phillip at times. One can neither trust fully nor discount all that is said.”
	He nodded, indicating the sword strapped on Michall’s back. “Ask it. I am not too proud to admit that I am old, my friend, and would welcome any help the Crystal saw fit to send me.”
	“Maybe you’re right,” Michall whispered, already knowing the blade possessed a soul but unsure if he wished it fully awake. He reached backwards and drew the sword from its sheath. The soft, freeing whisper echoed loudly along the narrow tunnel, its hiss mingling easily with the sounds of their ragged breath. “I will attempt it, but I do not know what will happen.”
	He held the blade before him, unsure as to what he needed to do. Feeling foolish, he cradled the blade much as one would hold a small child. Rubbing his hand down its length as he had done the one time it had responded, he whispered, “Power, I come to you filled with despondency. Not only have I lost my way, I have lost my faith. I am adrift in endless torment and do not know which way I should turn. Help me find my way home again, help me find sure footing along these uncertain paths I’m forced to walk. Be my champion...”

	“...Michall knelt within the tunnel, children. He had spoken from his heart. All his fears and emotions had been woven into his words, leaving him open and vulnerable if any there chose to take advantage of it. None did...”

	...He waited, hidden from prying eyes by the gloom of the stale tunnel. Nothing happened. 
	He shot Ra-Nu an ‘I told you so’ glance and then rose to his feet.
	“You had to try, princeling. There has been no harm done, and now we know the truth. Power will aid you as long as you wield it well. On that score, I have faith in your talents. Come, let us go.”
	Ra-Nu moved forward, expecting the others to follow. He had taken several strides before he realized that his were the only footfalls to be heard. Grumbling, he turned back to find Michall standing where he had left him, surrounded by confused, concerned Blues.
	“He cannot lift his feet,” Mist explained as Ra-Nu neared. “We have tried to do it for him, but he is rooted to the ground.”
	Ra-Nu allowed alarm to show upon his face, not caring if the others saw his worry.
	“What has happened? Why can you not move?”
	Michall turned wide eyes upon the warrior and whispered, “It’s the sword, Ra-Nu. It won’t let me. I can feel it awakening, but its spirit is somehow different than before.”
	His voice quivered. He looked to Ra-Nu for understanding, but the big Elf could only shake his head.
	“It’s awake. I feel its power coursing through me. Stay where you are, Ra-Nu. I don’t know what it’s about to do,” Michall begged.
	Ignoring Michall, the warrior moved nearer, thinking to rip the blade from the prince’s grip but was knocked backwards by a bolt of lightning. The tunnel vibrated with the crash as the bolt struck a distant wall.
	A lone voice announced its presence, neatly stepping in to fill the void left by the fading echo of the lightning bolt. A timbre, loud and masculine, sprang from the blade held tightly in Michall’s fist.
	“You have been found worthy of our protection, human. Now we shall answer all your pleas. Look closely, and we shall show you all that is buried within. As you have been told but did not believe, hear yet again from us. You are more than merely human, you are also Elf. This cycle, your Elfen blood will be released, for it is from that branch that your true hope lies.”
	Michall raised eyes that shone with uncertainty to Ra-Nu. He didn’t know whether the Elf could hear the words or if he was the only witness to the speech.
	Ra-Nu nodded and pointed to his own gently upturned ears but remained silent.
	“There will be great pain, but it cannot be helped. It will feel as if your very soul has been ripped asunder. We will remain by your side, have no fear. Within, your blood will begin to boil, burning away your frail human shell. That which is safely hidden within, shall take wing, finally free to soar to its rightful position.”
	Michall whispered, “Who are you?”
	“We are of the Ancients. Power was created from our essence, and so, is a part of our being just as our being is a part of the Crystal. So it is time that you shed your shallow shell and emerge anew, infused with the power of you.”
	“Then I am ready. If it will aid me, then perform your wizardry and be done with it. Time is not on my side,” the prince bravely addressed the spirits.
	“Although unseen, we are always with you. You have been found worthy. Place your trust in us and allow our guidance. Place your faith in our hands.”
	Michall accepted their words for truth, nodding his willingness to proceed. Then many voices rose from the blade to mingle with the first, all humming in unison. How many spirits were buried within, he didn’t know...or care. He was now trapped in an endless agony.
	His blood began to heat, quickly rising to boiling. Opening his mouth, he screamed senselessly and fell to his knees.
	“It will be over soon, child, soon. The pain will vanish, and all will be in place. You bear the essence, but it is buried deep. The probe is painful, but it will not last forever. It will be of aid if you dare to evoke it.”
	Clenching his teeth, Michall clutched his sides and let his forehead rest upon the cool dirt of the tunnel floor. His surroundings became a blur as his blood burned with unbearable pain. He fought to remain conscious but lost.
	Rising slowly from his stupor, he looked around expectantly. The voices were now nothing more than tiny fragments lodged within his disheveled mind.
	“Remember that you are not expected. He will not see the danger until it is too late. His arrogance will not allow him to acknowledge you, a mere human. You, child, could be the vessel of his defeat if you so desire.”
	“Do you suggest that I have a choice in this little play? I don’t have to invoke this power if I choose not to?”
	“There is always choice, child. Your choice will be whether to allow the power to use you, or you use it, or rely on your own abilities. It has always been your choice. You have always had free will. You did not have to join the girl, or travel here to face the wayward child of our lost fold...but you did. We gave you only that which you would need, but it will be you who decides whether to use it or not.” Fading, “It is up to you as it has always been.”
	Michall lay upon the ground and looked up into Ra-Nu’s concerned face. He could still feel lingering traces of the Ancients as their parting words rang within his bruised mind.
	“Mask your power well, child. Do not let it shine until it is needed. If you do not heed our words, then the lost one will know you. You hold the means to the future within you. Which future is your choice.”
	Michall sat up cautiously and touched a shaky hand to his tender brow. Brushing loose hair from his face, he said, “I’ve had enough of mystery, Ra-Nu. I think it’s time for some honest fighting. I have no love for the mysterious, and I don’t understand the magic that governs your Race. Come on, at least we can still trust in good, strong steel. It has yet to let me down.”
	Ra-Nu smiled. “Aye, princeling, your thinking is as one with mine. Lead, and I shall follow.”
	Michall moved forward on the trail. What did it matter if he had choices? What did it matter that he was free to turn away from this whole situation if he so desired? It was a lie anyway. He hadn’t stood a chance the moment he’d laid eyes on Ra-May.
	He sighed. That had been his free choice, and once made, everything else followed this chosen path!
	He shrugged. He didn’t care. His choice now was to move forward. He had to find Ra-May before it was too late.
	His steps rang loudly across the stone path, his feet carrying him onward to ‘his’ chosen destiny...

	“...Our prince was very determined. He didn’t trust the magic but rather chose to place his trust in steel. But was that a wise choice?”
	“Yes, Storyteller, do continue. Tell us why the prince was a fool?” a scornful voice broke the silence of the crowd.
	The old man rose, his frail frame shaking with indignation. He had not called Michall a fool, he had suggested that perhaps the prince should consider the magic.
	He craned his neck, determined to find the young upstart who had dared to place falsehoods into his mouth but saw no one.
	‘Odd,’ he thought, ‘but I could have sworn that the offender had been near.’
	He gave the audience one more cursory sweep and then shrugged. Time would filter out the one who dared to question his tale. Like many, many others, his voice wouldn’t remain silent for long. Another opportunity would present itself, and this time, he would be ready...

Chapter Forty-two
An Answer to a Prayer

	He landed on his feet -- barely. Darkness surrounded him. He felt Tilly’s, or possibly Torch’s, weight upon his shoulder. At least he was not alone.
	“Are you well?” he asked of his companion.
	“Aye,” Tilly’s sweet voice called out, slicing through the cloying obscureness. The soothing tone gave Phillip a sense of comfort. He began to relax in small measures.
	He could hear others mumbling off to his right and knew that he and Tilly were not alone here, wherever ‘here’ was. He hoped that it was the cavern that El-Cha was aiming for, but one could never tell.
	“El-Cha?” he whispered. “Are you near?”
	“I am here, Phillip. Walk straight, and you shall find me.”
	“Dear fellow, you may find me rude, but don’t you know of any spots that are sunny and warm?” Phillip complained. “I swear, since I’ve been traveling with you, all I’ve seen is the underbelly of pandemonium.”
	He heard the Elf’s slight chuckle and pivoted toward the sound. Stretching his arms out before him, he forced them into service to effectively become sensitive extensions to his useless sight.
	Groping into the chilling wall of nothingness, he moved uneasily forward on wobbly legs. Overreacting to the murk, each step became grotesquely extravagant.
	“If I survive this,” he mumbled, “I swear, I’ll surround myself with nothing but cheerful, brilliant light.”
	His hand touched another, “I hope that’s you, El-Cha?”
	“Aye, Phillip, it is none other. Now if you will stay close, I shall try to discern if there is danger near.”
	“Good plan,” Phillip stated sarcastically. “What do you recommend I do while you’re out there somewhere? Without light, I can’t see and so must leave you to your own devices. It would seem that I’ve been rendered useless as your protection.”
	He felt soft fingers probing his forehead and stepped back in alarm.
	“Be at ease, my friend. I only endeavor to aid you. This is but a simple spell...if only you will remain quiet and stop fighting me.”
	El-Cha’s fingers glided across Phillip’s brow and then forced his eyelids closed. Warmth flooded his senses, leaving him lightheaded and remarkably carefree. As much as he distrusted magic, he found himself wishing that it would go on forever.
	“You should be able to see now, Phillip. Please, look about.”
	Obeying, he opened his eyes to the strangest scene he’d ever had the misfortune to witness. Before him, and extending beyond the range of his new, but still limited, vision, stretched a vast cavern. He stared in disbelief.
	‘Maybe,’ he wondered, ‘it would have been better to have remained blind.’
	He took note of the hundreds or possibly thousands of clear, cell-like structures littering the cavern floor, their use -- unknown, but the clear, polished surfaces reminded him of the many windows he’d witnessed in Corty’s world.
	Touching one standing near, he was surprised at how cool it felt. He strained, squinting in an attempt to peer inside. If they were indeed windows, then he should be able to see what lay beyond.
	He jerked back from the cubicle and pointed a shaky finger at it. “By the Saints, it’s ghastly!” and stepped clear of the revolting contraption.
	He shook violently, a chill worked its way up his spine. ‘This place is nothing more than a giant cemetery,’ his numbed brain screamed. ‘Please, no!’ he thought. ‘I don’t think that I can bear this again.’
	He forced his mind to come to terms with what he faced. ‘I can do this,’ he told himself over and over. He had done it once, he could manage to do it again.
	He jerked his eyes from the cubicles and forced his mind to concentrate on his surroundings. He noted that he stood beneath a natural outcropping of rock, its large ledge hiding them from prying eyes.
	But before he could be lulled too deeply into a false sense of security, from the corner of his vision he saw something move between the rows of cubicles. He turned full around. As he watched, his hand positioned upon his sword, he saw beings roaming freely within the confines of the large cavern -- freely roaming but not free.
	There were humans as well as Blues stumbling among the many rows of lined cells. To his amazement, he saw that there were even a few Elves stumbling around the perimeter.
	Their purpose as yet remained unclear. If they were sentries, their blank expressions gave no testimonial to that fact. He thought maybe only the dead would be detected by the mindless forms. He shivered.
	“Sorry is the state of my people’s existence,” El-Cha sighed, waving his hand out before him to encompass the horror of the scene.
	He took a step forward, his shoulders sagging, “Here, entrapped within these cubicles, stand the once proud Race of Ra-Jee, reduced to nothing more than token subjects for an Elf who would be King.”
	“Yet it makes no sense,” El-Cha argued, allowing the contempt he felt to creep into his voice. “Ruler of a Race of zombies! What type of mind could invent such wicked horrors?”
	Phillip shrugged. There was nothing he could say to ease his friend’s pain. He listened quietly. It was all he could offer, and all El-Cha really needed from him.
	There was fear in El-Cha’s eyes, “My own blood,” he whispered. “My own blood!”
	“El-Cha, can you breach the spell that holds these poor souls? If so, then do so. It will be enough, I think, to ease your burdens.”
	El-Cha met the human’s stare, his sorrowful blue reaching out to Phillip’s understanding azure.
	“Thank you,” he whispered.
	Phillip nodded and then drew his sword. “I’m ready. Let’s get this over with. This place gives me the creeps. I realize that you’ve spent a great deal of time in dark, confining spaces but please have some pity for those of us who have not.”
	“I need to get closer to the cells. Can you manage it?”
	Phillip waved him forward. He had no idea if he could handle the situation or not. “We’ll find out soon, won’t we?”
	Easing away from the cool rock wall, Phillip edged his way into the main lobby. None of the vassals seemed to notice. Nearing one, he passed a hand before his vacant eyes and received no reaction.
	But still, he hesitated.
	Tilly pulled lightly on a loose link of his hair. He eyed her skeptically. “I will be with you, my human. Do not worry so.”
	“Ah, thank you, fair maiden. Your words lift my spirits.”
	He smiled fondly at the tiny flutterbug. Raising his sword before him, he moved deeper into the open spaces of the cavern. El-Cha followed closely on his heels.
	The Blue Warriors silently followed them. Some walking forward, their movements slow and uncertain, while others moved forward stiffly, heads held high, scowls set firmly upon their faces, allowing their contempt to show openly. All carried their weapons before them like a shield against the horror that they were forced to witness.
	They inched cautiously forward, ready for any ambush that might come from the deeper shadows pocketing the cavern floor. None came.
	“This is odd,” Phillip muttered as he moved deeper into the cavern. “I have passed several of these animated atrocities, yet none raise an alarm. They just don’t see us!”
	“I believe their only reason for being is to maintain the cubicles. The Del-a-Shar mocks us. He posts no wards, he has no fears. We are as nothing to him,” El-Cha spat out venomously.
	Torch circled their heads, flying in agitated, random patterns while muttering strange oaths in an illegible tongue.
	Phillip watched him as he sliced through the air, his tiny fists cinched tight and turning white from the strain, his arms rigid at his side.
	Growling, Torch turned and flew deeper into the cavern. Phillip watched him go. Then returning his attention to El-Cha, he asked nervously, “You feel no magical wards?”
	El-Cha shook his head negatively. He considered all the available information. There were no warding spells, the area seemed free of traps, and although very strange, it appeared no one here would give alarm. All this worked well with his developing plans. In theory, the area was theirs.
	“Good,” Phillip stated, the tone sounding hollow while his stance suggested an eagerness to banish the scene...to erase it from his memory forever. “Let’s do what we can and then leave.”
	Torch rejoined them, a smug smile riding across his Elfen features. Phillip didn’t ask, and Torch didn’t volunteer. ‘It is better,’ Phillip thought, ‘if I don’t know.’
	As they moved silently between the rows of cubicles, they began to see a pattern emerge in the layout of the place. As they worked their way toward the center, it appeared that the cubicles held fuller, less decimated life forms, while the ones lining the outer areas seemed used up...nothing but hollow, empty shells. Phillip looked to El-Cha for an answer.
	“I can only guess,” the small Elf whispered. “It would appear that the lifeless husks have completed their usefulness. Having nothing left to give, they are then regulated to the background and forgotten. These, here in the center, still hold energy within them. They are still useful.”
	“That’s sick!” Phillip spat. “Please tell me you can do something about this?”
	“I shall try.”
	“Who are they?” asked an uneasy voice.
	Phillip looked over his shoulder at the young Blue as she peered into one of the cubicles. Her head barely came to his chest. When she looked to him for answer, he saw his own horror written upon her pale face.
	“They are Elf,” El-Cha supplied.
	“All of them?” Phillip asked in awe. He had thought that some were Elves while others were possibly Blues and maybe even a human or two. He’d not guessed that every cell within the vast cavern held only Elves.
	“I am afraid so, my friend. It would seem that the Del-a-Shar requires their presence to feel supreme, their essence to continue his imagined reign. No other Race would be able to supplement his ego as elegantly as his own. But alas, I fear it is also an act of revenge.”
	Mumbling more to himself than the others, he sighed, “It might have been better had we found them dead. Many thought them to be. The tales indicated it to be so, yet I had my doubts, but I had not suspected this. Nay, this evil is beyond comprehension.”
	Torch perched possessively upon the little Blue’s slender shoulder, “Come, you may take watch with me.”
	She nodded, and they disappeared into the shadows.
	El-Cha knelt upon the stone floor, his flaxen head bowed, his features carved in stone as he mentally prepared for the task at hand. The spell he must cast was an ancient text, and one that would require great endurance. He hoped that he had the stamina to hold it once it was called. He did not know how far he could push his physical strength before forced into total collapse.
	He gave a mental shrug. It did not matter. He would continue until either the spell was complete or he lay dead upon the floor. There was no other option.
	“What may I do to aid?” Tilly asked as she flew before him.
	He smiled. “Sweet Tilly. I had forgotten that you and Torch still possess the original magic. Come, draw near. May I draw upon your strength to fortify my own?”
	She nodded and immediately fluttered near even as she called out to Torch.
	“It is an old spell and a draining one. I know how to cast it, but I do not know if I have the strength to direct it. Alas, my brother, Ar-Hur, I am not.”
	Tilly nodded once again, a sad understanding shining in her eyes. She had always understood. She had been second born and shared his predicament. He saw the understanding etched upon her dainty face and perceived the compassion displayed within her trusting stare.
	“Aye, now you are sure of my sad fate. It is why I studied so feverishly. It was really all I had to sustain me.”
	Phillip stood above him, questions jumping from his eyes but didn’t voice them.
	“Aye, I know you understand not. It is not your fault that you are human. I shall explain.”
	Phillip waved him off, but El-Cha insisted, “Being the second child of an Elfen mating tends to severely drain all concerned, being the third is worst yet. My sires were old, much older than the norm. When Ar-Hur arrived, he received the lions share of the power. El-Hur received a goodly portion, too. By the time I arrived, there was very little power within my sires to gift to me. I am strong compared to many common Elves but not as strong as I might have been had I been firstborn. Let us hope that what I have is enough.”
	“I don’t understand. Are you telling me that you can recite the spell but don’t have the strength to cast it?” an agitated Phillip gasped. “If that’s what you’re telling me, then we’ve lost,” he lamented, waving his hands at the many cubicles as he ranted, “Michall, Ra-May, all of us...have lost!”
	“Calm yourself, Phillip,” El-Cha commanded levelly. “I will do what I must. I wished only to warn you that...” he hesitated, “Only that.”
	Turning from Phillip’s unrelenting stare, he added, “Have no fear, the spell will be cast. All I ask is that you stay near, lending me your support. To do this, you must rein in your emotions. Any black doubts will distract from the good I hope to achieve.”
	Phillip continued to stare at El-Cha. Had he understood his words or rather lack of words? Yes, he thought he had. He knew that he should stop him but couldn’t. In a strange sort of way, he understood. “I’m sorry, my friend. I didn’t know.”
	El-Cha nodded. “Remember me fondly,” he whispered, allowing the mantle of magic to slip over him.
	Strange words began to issue from his parted lips. Phillip felt the tension mounting in the air. The depressing atmosphere that had ruled within the cavern changed, mingled now with an odd mixture of arid winds and strong, earthy smells.
	An eerie glow lit the ceiling, causing all to shield their eyes from the glare. Natures evident power swept through the cavern, encouraged by El-Cha’s magic.
	He tried to stand firm over his companions. His hair whipped about, striking him painfully about his face as the hot winds intensified, bludgeoning roughly against him, its force threatening to bring him to his knees. The support El-Cha had requested was beginning to crumble into a feeble and useless memory.
	He felt like he was being torn apart by the ferociousness of the blasts. He fought to remain alert, amazed as he listened to El-Cha continue to chant, oblivious to the chaos surrounding them.
	Sweat had broken out across El-Cha’s brow, his fine Elfen features marred by the strain placed upon his body, but still he continued his chant.
	Tilly concentrated all her strength on El-Cha’s need. She could feel Torch’s energy mingle with her own as he joined them, his strength reaching outward to entwine with the stronger aura of the larger Elf.
	She silently prayed that their combined powers would be enough.
	Phillip dug in. He’d promised protection, and he would do all within his power to keep that promise. Looking over their blonde heads, he watched as some of the zombie-like creatures began to angle his way.
	‘They’ve taken no note of us as we’ve roamed freely throughout this cavern, why now are they suddenly aware of our presence?’ he wondered while keeping his eyes trained on their slow but steady progress.
	He raised his sword, feeling it sway and pull against the rising wind. Summoning all his reserve, he prepared to swing. The things drew closer, their vacant stares replaced with intent...trained on El-Cha and the two Fire Elves. Phillip stepped between them and his friends and waited.
	His arm ached, the tension was exhilarating. The pace of the zombies was slow and menacing, each steady footfall carrying them closer. Still Phillip remained patient. Training had taught him to wait until the prey was within the sweep of his steel. And so, he waited.
	“Come on, move in,” he taunted. “I’m ready for you.”
	An enslaved Elf halted at the sound of his voice, its slanted eyes shifting to his face, and then he collapsed in a heap at Phillip’s feet. Looking about, he saw that all of the Del-a-Shar’s prisoners were cascading downward toward the cool embrace of the cavern floor, their bodies gone limp. Whatever El-Cha was doing, it seemed to be working...

	...Above the cavern, on the sandy shores of Sol, he ordered his men to dismount while scanning the desolate land with a practiced eye.
	“Captain Hendricks, have the men spread out and search the area thoroughly. I know that my son is near. Find him!”
	Hendricks bowed and then, with a shout, repeated the orders to the awaiting men.
	Ruhtra watched them disappear down the beach before turning an outstretched hand to Mikam. “I must leave you now, my friend,” he sighed. “I feel an urgent call pulling at my soul. You are right, though. Your son is near. Your arrival will be welcome.”
	Mikam bowed his head in thanks. “But what of the child you seek?”
	“She is well for now. Find your son, and you will find Ra-May. Guard them well until I return. For that, you shall hold my eternal gratitude.”
	“I will, I swear.”
	Ruhtra bowed his head and turned his mount away to race down the beach in chase of the setting sun. Time was moving too quickly. He had to hurry or all would be for naught...

	...Phillip was caught within the silken net of the spell, and, try as he might, he couldn’t break free. The soft pulsating threads had been intoxicating and strangely compelling. He knew that to allow it to come too near would prove to be his undoing, but in the back of his mind, he had wanted to join it in its wild dance.
	Now he was trapped. He could feel the power wrapping its coils around his weakened form. He struggled against its force but knew it was futile.
	He moaned, realizing that he wouldn’t live long enough to see another sunrise spread its warmth across the land.
	Tilly felt his weak struggles shake the fibers of the web. Frantically, she sought him with her eyes.
	Being Elf, she understood the danger of her actions, or the lack there of, but was unable to remain within the circle while that very ring threatened to take her Phillip’s life.
	She pulled back, siphoning her power away from the core spell and sent it to her beloved.
	Free from the web, Phillip sagged against one of the clear cubicles. His heart pounded against his chest, sending a racing pulse hammering through his ringing ears. His breathing came hard and ragged.
	A waning El-Cha sat cross-legged upon the floor below him, his skin pale and slick with moisture.
	“Oh, Tilly,” Phillip moaned, “What have I done?”
	Tilly landed lightly on his shoulder. Tiny silver tears trailed down her face. “I am sorry, my Phillip, tis so, but it was my choice, mine to make. To me you are more important than a thousand moments, you are my life.”
	Phillip shook his head. He could say nothing. He might lose his friend because of stupidity.
	“Please,” Phillip asked of the golden light surrounding him. “Please let him live. I believe in his goodness, such honest deeds shouldn’t be rewarded with death.”
	He wiped a stray tear from his cheek. ‘What am I doing?’ he thought. ‘I don’t even know any of their gods and here I am begging them for help. Who am I to think that alien forces would even hear my pitiful pleas.’
	He thought about his own religious beliefs but found no deity listed that he thought could aid him. He had to do something, and it seemed that praying was all there was that he could do.
	“I’ll be damned if I’ll let a silly thing like a name stop me!” he said aloud. “I know one name, and it’s the one everyone keeps telling me about,” he said as he looked at his tiny companion who nodded. “I’ll pray to the Crystal.”
	To Tilly, he advised, “I suggest you do the same. We need all the help we can get.”
	She agreed, immediately bowing her head.
	He bent his own and prayed in silence. He could feel Tilly upon his shoulder and hoped between the two of them some deity would hear them. He became so engrossed in his pleas that he failed to notice another presence in the cavern until the shadow fell across his face. He snapped his eyes open and looked into the face of a stranger.
	Hand resting lightly on his sword hilt, he lifted his body to its full height. Yet the stranger still towered above him.
	Dryly, Phillip inquired with false bravado, “I do hope, my good fellow, that you have come in answer to my prayers.”
	The stranger said nothing. Phillip brought his sword up. “For you see, if you haven’t, would you mind turning around and leaving here? I really don’t think I can handle any further crisis’ just now.”
	He brought the blade to rest gently on the ground between himself and the larger man.
	He was so very tired and cursed himself for being careless. He wasn’t sure he could take this fellow. In fact, he wasn’t sure Ra-Nu could handle him.
	The man cocked his head and flashed a brilliant smile his way. “You are a strange one even for a human.”
	‘Shades of Ra-Nu,’ Phillip thought absently before his mind snapped to full alert. “You’re an Elf!” he babbled.
	“Aye, I am. Rest easy, little man.”
	“Who are you?” Phillip stammered. He had been around a lot of Elves lately but none like the one before him. This Elf filled the room with his presence. Strength seemed to ooze from him, spreading outward in one long stream. Phillip thought perhaps that he was really a god in disguise. Surely no mere Elf could command such an overpowering aura? No, this was not an ordinary Elf, Phillip would have bet his life on it.
	“I am the answer to your prayer,” came the soft reply. Tilly’s gasp rose quickly on its heels.
	“Excuse me?” Phillip stuttered. “You’re who?”
	“A god-sent. I do not wish to be rude, human, but I must give my aid to your friend. The spell is at a critical phase, and he would benefit greatly from my added strength.”
	“Please,” Phillip insisted, inclining his head toward El-Cha.
	The newcomer took up the chant, his voice resounding through the deep cavern.
	The magical light brightened. The concentrated power began to swirl, channeling its glow downward and into the cells themselves. Each cubicle became illuminated...alive with a warm glow of its own.
	“Electricity,” he whispered. “Tilly, it is ‘electricity’!”
	She nodded but knew it was much more. It was the power of the Crystal pulsating strongly through her chosen agent. She knew who stood before them. Nay, simple ‘electricity’ could never compare to his power.
	“Tis wondrous,” she replied breathlessly.
	Skillfully guiding the exhausted El-Cha through the most crucial part of the spell, he then untangled him from the weave, strong enough alone to support the spell there after.
	The power filled him, and he felt alive. He funneled its flow in steady streams, aiding all who had need. He felt each life as it flickered into being and felt each painful stab as one would fail to respond.
	El-Cha, weary but alert, stammered in wondrous fascination, “How can this be?”
	Phillip, kneeling beside him, shrugged, “I don’t even pretend to understand it all.” He studied the strange Elf as he balanced the great magical weave before him. “Do you know who he is?”
	“Aye, I believe I recognize him,” El-Cha whispered.
	“Could it be some sort of trick of the Del-a-Shar’s?” Phillip asked anxiously.
	El-Cha swung his head sideways, “Nay, there is but one who may merge with the Crystal in such a manner...he is Ar-Hur. How he came to be here is unimportant. What matters is that he is here, and now there is hope.”
	“Ar-Hur?” Phillip asked, letting the name flow across his tongue as he accustomed himself to the sound of the name. “You mean ‘THE’ Ar-Hur?”
	El-Cha nodded.
	He would never underestimate the power of prayer again. ‘Imagine,’ he thought, ‘I called the great Ar-Hur into being.’
	He smiled slyly as his cheeks reddened. ‘Oh, sure! Time to climb out of the clouds, old boy. Your head is getting just a little swelled.’
	All about them the cubicles began to explode. The clear material throwing itself forcefully to the floor in mangled, useless heaps. From within the cells, restored beings stretched and opened puzzled eyes to their surroundings.
	Phillip and El-Cha watched in shared silence while the cavern leapt to life before them...

	...Ar-Hur laughed and cried along with the rest of them, but none heard him. He was wrapped within the powerful pull of the Crystal its allure stronger than his own emotions. He let the weave pull him in tighter. He had a duty to them all...

	...Phillip felt privileged that he’d been permitted to witness this miracle, an honor few humans ever knew.
	He watched breathlessly as the beautiful light raced through the cavern, its tender caress reaching out to lovingly stroke cell after cell, life after life. But when the light reached the outer circle of cubicles, its glow dimmed.
	Ar-Hur cried out, his eyes sealed against the terrible sight, but his mind remained receptive to the agony trapped within.
	The pitiful souls of the forgotten Elves cried out to him, begging him to release them from their earthly prison. They longed to soar with the light, be free to cross over into the lands of the Ancients but could not. The spell that created their jail had no name, no lock to turn a key within, no opening to allow them to soar free.
	He emerged from the weave with difficulty, clawing his way back to the here and now. He stood and surveyed the chamber methodically. His golden eyes warmed as they rested momentarily on his brother. He smiled and then turned away. When his interest focused upon the darkened cells of the lost Elves, the warmth faded.
	A strickened grimace rode his handsome face as he made his way toward the lifeless shells. He stopped inches from the cubicles and gazed within.
	“Nay,” his anguished cry echoed deeply into the cavern. “Crystal, why did you not warn me?”
	He pulled at the thing before him, beating his fist against its front until it finally broke from the strain. A dry and withered husk fell forward into his waiting arms.
	El-Cha rose, shock written upon his face, but did not venture forward. Phillip looked on with mild curiosity.
	Ar-Hur’s voice carried clearly throughout the reposing chamber. Words that were meant to be said in private now became words made public.
	His anguish was complete as he held the stiff form cradled within a tender embrace. “I tried, my love. It would seem that I am forever doomed to bid you farewell, my Sar-Ion. Always...and forever.”
	He laid the mummified remains of his Queen upon the floor and covered her with his cape. Rising, he forced open the other cells and, in turn, laid each dried husk beside hers.
	“My Sal-May, you have left me, too,” he spoke softly to the final shape. “Ah, but now, at last, my beloved Ra-Ree will not be alone. It is a terrible fate to be alone.”
	He felt the pull of their tortured spirits upon his soul as they tried to enter into his light. “Aye, my loves. I will release you and give you the peace you so desire. It is all I have to give. Let it be enough.”
	Stepping away from the sad line of bodies, he began to chant a death chant. “Swift journey to you all. May the Ancients welcome you with open arms.”
	He summoned the magic and watched in silence as the bodies were devoured in brilliant fire. When the blaze died, Phillip saw that now where the bodies had once lain stood newly blossoming bushes. He knew their breed and thought it fitting that the ‘Blood Rose’ should mark their passage and imagined he could smell the alluring fragrance of the newly birthed buds.
	‘This Ar-Hur is an interesting enigma,’ he thought. ‘Odd, but he reminds me of Michall.’
	“Before you, Phillip, stands the greatest Elf of all time. Do you not feel his strength as it fills the cavern? He is the hope I have not dared to ask for. He is the one power that can face the Del-a-Shar and hope to win.”
	“I believe you, El-Cha. For once, I really do.”
	As one, they looked toward the empty cubicles and the encumbered Elf who knelt before them.
	“Ar-Hur has released those who did not survive. Among them, his mate, Sar-Ion, and his bonded daughter, Sal-May. I grieve for him and feel his pain,” El-Cha supplied.
	“You don’t suppose that the whole Royal House was within that section of cubicles, do you? Surely things couldn’t have been arranged so neatly?” Phillip asked while surveying the cavern. “There really doesn’t seem to be any order anywhere.”
	El-Cha’s head jerked upward. He turned searching eyes into the awaiting crowd and shouted, “Are any among you in direct bloodline to the Royal House of Ra-Jee? If so, step forward. Do not be afraid.”
	“Aye,” Ar-Hur repeated as he came to stand beside his brother. “Step forward and be recognized. We mean you no harm.”
	Phillip scanned the crowd. He was as anxious as the others to see if any of the Royal House had survived. No one moved.
	El-Cha raised his hands and pleaded, “Please, if any have survived, we have need of them. Please, step forward.”
	From the center of the huge crowd a weak voice called. The other Elves parted to allow a small slip of a maiden to step into view.
	Taking note of her proud bearing, seeing the arrogant tilt to a brow that screamed her heritage, Ar-Hur stated from the side of his mouth, “Forest Elf.”
	The knowledge brought a smile to his lips as he waited for her to speak.
	She possessed long, wavy locks that nearly reached the floor and eyes the color of twilight. Her voice rang true as she stated, “I am of the Royal House of Ra-Jee. I claim the right by life-bond.”
	“Who are you then? Speak girl, tell us your name,” Ar-Hur coaxed. “Who do you claim as Royal mate?”
	“Me!” came a shout from behind them. All heads turned in unison toward the voice.
	Ar-Hur watched the proud Elf walk forward. He studied him closely, looking for any hint of his lineage. “I feel that I should know you,” he stated calmly. “But yet, I do not recall why I should feel this way.”
	“Aye, you should know me as I know you. I am Ar-Ion.”
	“And I am his mate,” said the pretty maiden as she stepped forward to stand at Ar-Ion’s side, “Mi-Ra.”
	“Well,” Phillip said with enthusiasm. “Isn’t this interesting. And Michall thought the only parents he would have to handle were his own. Won’t he be surprised.”
	El-Cha laughed and swung a comforting arm about Phillip’s shoulder. “I do find your humor invigorating. Truly, it is an art.”
	Tilly sprang into the air, her wings fluttering rapidly. She did not like being forced from her perch even by accident.
	“Humph!” she pouted and sought out the reassuring shoulder of another. Perched sedately upon Ar-Hur’s shoulder, she continued to eye El-Cha’s arm dubiously as she sulked.
	El-Cha had not dared to hope that Ar-Ion had survived the attack so long ago. He suspected that Ra-May’s mother might have and had hoped that she would be the one to step forward when he had asked.
	‘Ra-May,’ he thought, his mood immediately sobering. ‘I pray we do not arrive too late.’
	Ar-Hur walked slowly into the crowd toward Ar-Ion. ‘Aye, it is indeed my little lad,’ he thought as he drew nearer.
	“How I have longed to see you again,” he murmured, drawing him into a warm embrace. “I am truly honored. I thought to never lay eyes on you again. The thought has always saddened me.”
	He held him at arms length, taking in the whole of him. “But you have grown. You are not the tiny lad who rested comfortably upon my lap any longer. You have become all that I had ever hoped you would be. You have made me proud.”
	Reluctant to release his hold on the lad but knowing it was necessary, he drew back. Ar-Ion moved to his side, causing Ar-Hur to smile. “In time, I hope that you can forgive me, my child. I have been a foolish ‘old’ Elf.”
	“There is nothing to forgive, Sire,” Ar-Ion replied stiffly.
	“Ah, but there is. Gather round, there is a battle to be fought,” he shouted to the others. ‘And very little time left me.’ he thought. ‘This time, I will not flee. No one else shall be made to pay the price of my cowardice...’

	“...And do you think it was cowardice that forced Ar-Hur to leave Ra-Jee?” asked the old one. “No? Well, neither do I. It is good to see that you are paying attention. It gladdens my heart to know that in some future time one of you will tell my tale and the characters will once again spring to life.”
	“Please, Storyteller, continue. I grow anxious for the end...as I think do you!” called a gentle voice.
	“Yes,” answered the old man. This time he did not look into the crowd for the illusive voice. He knew it to be trapped within his mind.
	“Soon, I will be called home...”

Chapter Forty-three
The Gift

	“Above ground...” whispered the Storyteller, hunching his body over knees drawn close to his chest, his bony spine bowing severely under the strain, “...in a land where white beaches ceaselessly dissolve into deep, dark waters,” he added, pointing one scrawny finger upward, high above his thinning, white hair, “events were beginning to speed up. The face of the water world was changing, taking on muted hues that threatened to clash violently with the existing surface settings.”
	In subdued tones, he lead them into the alien world that was Sol...

	...The sun had started its downward trek across the sky, sluggishly shifting its flaxen rays westward. The moon waited anxiously in the background...knowing that soon it would rise and dominate the aging sky. Ra-May knew it too.
	She sat nestled upon the warm sands, silently contemplating her chances. Twilight would soon threaten, and then...she would have to face the Del-a-Shar.
	She feared this encounter more than she had been prepared to admit. Her chest ached with the fear. Her breathing grew rough and ragged. She fought to calm herself.
	She longed for Michall’s protective embrace, to hear his soothing voice tell her everything would be fine. But that was not possible now. She had run away from him in order to protect him.
	She stood and dusted the sand from her tunic. Her leather leggings felt hot and irritating against her skin. Squinting into the shifting light of the traitorous sky, she estimated there was little time left.
	She edged cautiously away from her hiding place. The tiny cove had served her well. She silently thanked the Spirits that dwelled within for the comforting respite.
	Never having been challenged or pushed to the point of sheer desperation, she confessed to no one, “I know not what will happen.”
	She felt so alone.
	She was grateful that she did not face this threat without knowledge of her abilities and laughed ruefully at her earlier naiveness. “Many thanks, Ar-Hur.”
	His heavy ring hung from a cord at her neck. She lifted it, admiring the way the sun’s rays played within its inner jewel. Then suddenly, the thought struck her. “The jewel!”
	Her hand jerked upward toward her brow. Anxiously, she brought her Circlet downward to rest beside Ar-Hur’s ring.
	“Aye,” she laughed. “You are the same.”
	She placed her Circlet back across her brow and then sank down into the sand still holding the ring before her. “What power do you possess, little jewel? And how do I unleash it?...”

	“...It would seem that luck was on her side. But she had yet to realize all the elements that worked in her favor. She was very young after all,” he stated with a dreamy, contented sigh.
	He shifted slightly on the stool, his cheeks stained pink with embarrassment. Shrugging, he thought, ‘Who can blame an old man for remembering?’ and then continued, “So intent was she in studying the ring that she had not noticed the change that was slipping over the land. Until...”

	...Ra-May pulled her thoughts away from the ring to scan the changing skies. ‘What is happening?’ she wondered. ‘Why is the air so charged?’
	She closed her eyes and opened her mind to her surroundings, testing the patterns of the air, feeling the wind as it whipped about her.
	Her eyes popped open in surprise. “Magic!”
	She lifted to her knees and plunged her fingers deep into the sand. Concentrating, she awaited the familiar sensations. “Aye, even the sand crawls with this strangeness.”
	“But where is the caster?”
	Whoever it was, she reasoned that he or she was very powerful if such a strong residue had been left behind. She knew it was not the Del-a-Shar’s. This magic was too clean, too white...too pure.
	Clasping her hands in inspired gratitude, she laughed, “I can use it. I can tap into the stream and use it to augment my own power.”
	Closing her eyes, she focused upon the magical flow and drew from it, crying out in her ecstasy as the pure threads merged with her own power. She felt strangely heightened -- omnipotent. It was a heady sensation, and one she fought to rein in. Thoughts such as these could mean her defeat.
	She broke off the flow, feeling a sadness as she let it slip backwards away from her grasp. She would not absorb more than she felt she could justify. She might have need of it later...

	...He smiled, and his skin crinkled severely above his cheeks. Deep wrinkles readjusted their well-defined positions across his face, finally settling around the outer edges of ancient, weary eyes.
	He leaned forward, acting as if he intended to let them in on a well kept secret, “She was a very smart child.”
	He rubbed a balled fist against sore back muscles. ‘I have been sitting much too long,’ he thought. ‘I have been old longer than I was ever allowed to be young. Will it never end?...’

	...Ar-Hur detailed the world that they now found themselves reborn into. He held nothing back. It was imperative that his Race understand what had been done to them and by whom.
	When he was finished, he rose and joined El-Cha and his friends.
	“My brother, I must ask a favor from you.”
	“Ask, Ar-Hur. If it is within my power, then you shall have it.”
	He nodded. “Time grows short. Even as we speak the moon begins to peek up over the horizon. I must go.”
	“Go? But where do you go?” El-Cha’s voice broke, revealing a vulnerable emotional state. “Ar-Hur, you have only just been returned to me. Why must you leave?”
	“El-Cha, I must. I heeded the warning given so very long ago and did all that I could to change what would follow. Do not hold me now or all I strived to do will be for naught.”
	Phillip turned intrigued eyes on the pair.
	“I need your help, brother, as you once needed mine. I need you to guide our Race home. They have been awakened into a hostile world -- a world that has no use for them. They must be taken back to Ra-Jee where they can rebuild their lives. Will you do this for me?”
	“Aye, I will if it can be found. But you will be with us. There is no need to extract such a promise from me. You are our King, you will lead us home.”
	“It can be found,” Ar-Hur whispered as he turned his golden eyes away from his youngest brother. He did not wish for him to read the pain surfacing there. “If I can, El-Cha...I will. But I will still have your promise. I need to know that Ra-Jee will shine again.”
	“Aye,” El-Cha answered him, a reluctant nod of his youthful head. His pale hair bounced forward, making him seem even younger.
	Ar-Hur reached out and pushed a stray lock away from his eyes. “Good. Now I go. It is time.”
	“Wait,” Phillip hollered. “Take me with you, Ar-Hur! I must reach Michall’s side!”
	“I go in search of the girl!”
	“That’s no deterrent. You worry about Ra-May, let me worry about Michall. I suspect that where there is one, we’ll find the other. Please, take me along?”
	Ar-Hur acceded.
	Tilly flew in to land upon Phillip’s shoulder. “Where you go, so shall I. Tis so!” she informed.
	“Why, I would have it no other way,” Phillip cooed, bowing his head in acceptance. “I have grown rather used to you by my side. I really wonder how I ever got along before you.”
	Torch growled as he perched on Phillip’s other shoulder. He eyed the human crossly, folded his tiny arms across his chest and huffed, “Do not speak, human. Nary a word. You may take it as warning.”
	Phillip turned his head away and bit his tongue -- hard. He wanted to laugh, and he wanted to reply...but in the end, remained silent.
	“Draw near,” Ar-Hur commanded.
	Ar-Ion laid a stalling hand upon his arm. Ar-Hur looked on expectantly. “She is my daughter. I wish to accompany you yet, before going, our people wish to offer aid.”
	“What do you propose?” the golden one asked. He folded thick arms across a massive chest and waited. He looked intimidating. Phillip had no trouble believing him to be a King.
	“We want to send her what is left of our meager strength, but we need you to channel it. We have no magic, only our strength. You must aid us.”
	“You wish to send your energy to Ra-May? Do you realize that by doing this, you will be left defenseless?” he asked, brows raised, golden eyes scanning Ar-Ion’s features for any signs of retreat. There was none. “You are truly a child of Elfen.”
	“It can be done. And perhaps it will buy time. El-Cha, I will have need of you yet again...”

	“...And so, her Race sent her a gift...the gift of their concern and their hope. Their strength wailed up, drifting on the wind, permeating the sands, calling out to her, and she took it...”

	...Phillip was caught within the crazy swirl of the magic. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to traveling in this manner, but he had to admit it was useful.
	This time, though, the mood was different. He could see all about as if he was the one standing still and the world was being forced to rush by. He was, in all honesty, enjoying himself.
	Both times when he’d been forced to travel in this manner, he’d been encased in thick, impenetrable mist, unable to see even his hand before him. But now he felt light and carefree. Where before he’d felt only blackness, now he felt awash in light. He wondered at the difference.
	In his head he heard Ar-Hur gently explain, “This is like no other magic, human. This is the ‘Power of the Gold’. There in lies the difference.”
	“Well, I’ve always said it is best to travel with Royalty. Now I’m reminded why.”
	He heard Ar-Hur’s laughter echo within his mind, and then...they arrived at their destination, emerging from the colorful mist to step smoothly onto the loose sands of Sol.
	‘Much better to travel with an experienced guide,’ Phillip thought. ‘No rough landings, no unexpected detours, no surprises.’
	Ar-Hur stood off to his right, scanning the skies above. It was near dusk -- the twilight realm, a domain steeped in myth and legend. It would soon be time to act.
	Ar-Ion sat wearily down upon the sands, hands shaking as they dangled over his knees. He was drained and knew it. Quietly, having no initiative to lead, he waited for someone to make the first move.
	Without looking at him, Ar-Hur warned, “Remember, Ar-Ion. You are without magic. All you have is your sword...and that, I fear, will be nearly useless against what we will have to face.”
	“It will be enough,” came his clipped reply.
	Phillip shrugged. A sword was all he had too. He agreed with Ar-Ion. It would be enough.
	‘I hope,’ his inner voice screamed...

	“...El-Cha had an enormous task to perform. He was grateful to the Blues who had remained behind to assist him. It would take many sure hands to bring the whole group to the surface safely,” explained the old Storyteller. “Elves, Blues, and Humans.”
	He laid a finger along the side of his temple, “Now, where was I? Yes! The sun was setting, and the moon was beginning its climb...”

	“...Soon,” she mumbled as she watched the sun sink from view. The warmth it had provided was steadily ebbing, making way for the coolness of the shadow world.
	She shivered.
	She surveyed the skies, “Darkness comes. It is his element.”
	She tested the air, letting the breezes wash over her -- engulf her.
	“It is already tainted with your stain, only now does twilight ride the heels of the setting sun, and yet...I sense you.”
	She stilled her thoughts, concealing any conflicts she still held, driving them down deep within her subconscious. She could not face the Del-a-Shar knowing he could read the emotions that were a window to her soul. To allow this to happen would be to arm him.
	She turned her oval face toward the rising moon, its light a mere suggestion...a pale imitation of the radiant vibrancy of first cycle.
	Whispering into the stillness before her, she decreed, “Come then, for I am ready.”
	And threw her shoulders back confidently...

Chapter Forty-four
It is Time

	“Time had run out. The Del-a-Shar was very anxious to finish the game...”

	...She felt the change in the air and tensed, listening in frozen dread to the complete silence that blanketed the land about her. It was time...he was coming.
	“Eastward,” she surmised, “where delphian skies hold sway. That is the direction from which he will come.”
	She trained her eyes into the murkiness of the approaching dusk and waited.
	The wind increased, fighting her for supremacy. She strained against it, never taking her eyes from the menacing shadows that laced the changing skies.
	Her long, flaxen hair streamed out behind her, dancing exotically upon the breeze, the floating locks shining brightly against the darker advancing backdrop. She aped the sun, a beacon of light dwelling in a dreary world known only as Sol.
	A dull thrumming echoed through the darkness, its steady whoosh reverberated in her head, chilling her.
	She trained her sight along the horizon line, searching the shadows and froze.
	The Del-a-Shar came, riding confidently upon the back of an enormous demon. Its massive wings pumped through the obscuring skies with steady, rhythmic confidence, lazily descending toward its intended goal, each downward thrust stirring the air, generating a stream of constant, unnatural winds.
	Fleetingly, she thought of running away, but it was ephemeral...her fears trying to overpower her known duty. She strengthened her will against further anxieties. She must remain firm.
	When first glanced, his arrogant posture, his easy, victorious manner left her bereft -- adrift in hopelessness. But that same smugness when reviewed again with candid resolve empowered, filling her with a tenacity she thought lost. Anger filled her. She allowed it to build...to stoke her determination.
	She called forth her magic, not intending to allow him the first strike. Feeling the power well up from within, she reveled in its overwhelming beauty. Its strength filled her, shielding her from her fears. She now walked within the light, attuned to the Crystal’s spirit. Her fingers tingled with the familiar ache of unreleased magic. She was ready.
	The demon’s swift, powerful strokes hastened the Del-a-Shar to his rendezvous. Each forceful thrust a steady reminder of the confrontation to come.
	She kept its massive shadow within sight as it winged its way westward, pursuing the setting sun across the sky, its outline a dark scar against the dusky backdrop.
	“He comes,” she affirmed.
	He drew closer. Now she could make out his features.
	“How can this be?” she whispered into the cooling air.
	Strange bewilderment muddled her thoughts, siphoning her strength, dissolving her purpose. She was lost within the realm of doubt and uncertainty. Questions fought their way toward the surface of her confused state, demanding to be examined.
	Riding upon the broad back of the demon sat a youth who at first glance reminded her of her beloved Ra-Nu. Looking into his innocuous eyes, she wondered why she was standing on this beach -- magic at the ready -- pointed at such a beautiful Elfen lad.
	She lowered her hands, preparing to disarm, when a persistent voice penetrated her hazy thoughts, “Fight the spell, child. See the truth that awaits to devour you. See with only your powers.”
  She nodded absently, hearing the voice but loath to respond. Yet something, some logic, had breached her fevered mind. She strained to answer its summons.
	Golden eyes, infused with the true wisdom of her magic, searched the skies, seeking, landing upon the angelic face of the Elfen lad. Only then was she able to see beyond the facade to the truth hidden beneath. He was just an illusion. The true vestige was a shriveled, poisonous creature of deadly darkness.
	A horrid scream rent the air.
	“Somehow the little urchin has managed to escape my spell,” he spat between clinched teeth, “and stands firm against me. But victory shall still be mine. Run hide, little Elfling...run or die.”
	Aided by the strength of the Crystal’s magic, she faced the true image of the Del-a-Shar. What she saw was repulsive, but she refused to turn away.
	She watched as a dense cloud formed behind the Del-a-Shar’s mount. Its width growing rapidly, the ominous vapors expanded, spreading outward to quickly encompass the sky like a plague across the heavens.
	Mesmerized by its swirling vortex, she directed her magic-laced sight to search its silky depths. She probed into the churning tentacles of menacing steam and haziness, drawn ever forward by the alluring mystery beyond the nebulous.
	What she discovered threatened to unnerve her. She took a step backwards.
	“I am doomed,” she acknowledged with a barely audible resolve. “But I swear I shall not die easily.”
	And raised her hands to strike...

	“...Why was she doomed, you ask? Because of what was ensnared beyond the filmy folds of the menacing sphere. Within flew hordes of winged demons, talons raised in greedy anticipation, anxious to be set loose upon the land.”
	He looked around and sighed, shaking his head as if to say, ‘Ah, Ra-May, we will miss you,’ then whispered, “But she didn’t know that others worked to aid her...”

	...Biting, sarcastic laughter surrounded her, its chilling nearness forcing her senses on full alert.
	‘It is now or never,’ she thought and sent her strength outward, striking the first blow to avenge her Race, the second...for her survival...

	“...And Ar-Hur’s ring began to glow, my children. It pulsed blue fire within its heart!...”

	...The Del-a-Shar parried, swinging his great demon away from the arching spear. He banked against the wind and summoned his own power.
	“Hear me, little princess,” he shouted, letting his voice grow and fill the skies with his hatred, “Now you die...”

	...Michall began to think that the surface was only an illusion. His small party had climbed steadily upward, hoping each eager step would be the one that placed them on the sandy beaches.
	It felt as if the tunnel was closing in upon him. He could no longer breath with ease, the walls seemed to be reaching out to devour him. He longed to feel the sun warm his face and erase the clammy moisture that clung there.
	Ra-Nu remained silent. The only sound issuing forth was his steady, rhythmic breathing as he continued forward with inalterable presence of mind, his Elfen features, normally light and easy, masked in dark, worried shadows.
	Michall understood Ra-Nu’s mood, his was much the same. He was deeply afraid, very worried, and extremely angry. The emotional mixture was highly volatile. If they didn’t reach the surface soon, he predicted that he would lose what little control he maintained. Yes, he understood Ra-Nu’s silence well.
	To his right, a webbed hand snaked out to halt them. Mist pressed her fingers to pursed lips before turning to quickly merge with the gloom beyond, her fading form barely discernible as she glided near the oppressive wall.
	Cocking her head, she stood silent and waited. Whatever she heard or did not hear seemed to satisfy her cautions. She flashed a victorious smile over her shoulder and reached out with one webbed hand to pull downward on some unseen lever.
	The wall began to slid sideways away from her. It seemed to operate without benefit of pulley or hinge, so perfectly hued and conceived that its backwards slide hardly dislodged a stray pebble.
	Michall recognized the lonely call of a distant seabird and sighed, “At last!”
	The door had barely completed its sideward trek when he stepped through into the dim, receding light of the fading cycle.
	The others followed quickly on his heels to form a protective perimeter around the young prince. Ra-Nu’s frown deepened as he noted the angle of the setting sun.
	“Come, we must not tarry! I’ve an appointment to keep,” Michall stated, already making his way eastward...toward the rapidly rising moon. The luminous orb struggled mightily to dominant the heavens, yet the sun remained momentarily to outshine it. It would not be long before its pale face ruled supreme within the sky, victoriously defeating the light for another cycle...and by then all might be lost.
	Grasping Michall’s arm, Ra-Nu yanked him around fiercely. The Warrior’s piercing stare looked downward into his determined face, the face of one who was not prepared to surrender.
	The sun inched further toward obscurity as darkness crept at them from the surrounding shadows. A hush swept across the land, shrouding them in its mantle of gloom.
	“Release me, Ra-Nu,” Michall stated through clinched teeth, his tone flat...deadly. “I must go. It has begun.”
	“What do you do? I agree that we must hurry, but I think, mayhap, you speak of different plans.”
	“Trust me, Ra-Nu. Go find the others...they’ll have need of you. I must answer another call.”
	His tone was faraway, distant, and dreamy. He turned without a backwards glance and started up the beach.
	Ra-Nu hesitated, watching the set of his shoulders as the prince moved quickly away. He knew he should follow him but somehow was reluctant to do so. He cursed his indecision. He was sworn to protect both the princess and the prince even though his heart remained with Ra-May.
	The decision was made when he heard a chilling scream rent the air. “Ra-May...?” and turned toward the sound.
	Michall continued to move in the opposite direction. He heard no scream nor felt any emotion. He walked within a void where no emotions were permitted entry, his purpose etched graphically within his mind. His role extremely clear. No doubt existed.
	He halted at the edge of a massive cliff, its shadowy overhang stretching outward to blend with the murky depths of the coastline. It was thick and blunt at its base but tapered narrow as it reached toward the sky. At its tip was a smooth platform formed over countless ages by the spirit of the wind. It was there Michall was drawn.
	Sweat trickled into his eyes, wind tore at his loose hair, and blood seeped from countless cuts as he climbed the rocky fortress. The heat seething from his recovering wounds went unheeded. He felt nothing, noticed no pain.... He remained within the void.
	Reaching the top, he scanned the dark waters that stretched out endlessly before him. He drew Power.
	Poised, he waited as he knew he must...

	...She fought by instinct alone. Never before had she been required to use her power in such a way. Nothing had prepared her for the violence of the battle, or the draining of her energies.
	The crisp odor of spent magic wafted upon the air while the sizzle of animated energy crackled about her as she matched the Del-a-Shar blow for blow...each refusing to give ground.
	Even so, Ra-May knew that she was losing. Her strength was ebbing. If she did not find a weakness soon, the Del-a-Shar would overpower her.
	An ominous roar erupted into the blackened sky, forcing her attention away from the ensuing battle. A deepening crevice had formed over the area where first she had sensed the horrid demonic portal. It yawned behind the Del-a-Shar’s demon, each sweep of its massive wings opening it further.
	The Del-a-Shar laughed, the sound filling the skies and pressing the dread further down upon her soul. “See, my pets come. Would you care to caress them before you die?”
	The sky seemed to scream in desperation as hordes of hideous demons swarmed from the diseased tear, the air filled with their kind as still others continued to tear at the opening, slashing outward and sinking their claws into any scaly flesh that hindered their entry into Sol.
	Ra-May was momentarily forgotten as the Del-a-Shar cooed to his spawn. “Come, my pets. Taste the sweetness of my victory. Come savor her final moments with me.”
	She flung her hands skyward, fingertips pointed at the turned back of the Del-a-Shar and let her magic flow. She had found a weakness -- his belief that she was of no consequence. She seized her chance, for it seemed the only one she would be offered.
	Lightning flared from her hand, arcing upward in a blue blur. It zigzagged skyward, hunting its prey. The blinding missile lit up the opaque sky, swiftly finding its mark and striking the Del-a-Shar’s unprotected back with vengeful accuracy.
	He howled. Rocking unsteadily atop his great demon, he swung away from the newly birthed demons to give Ra-May his undivided attention. If he had been weakened, he covered it well. Ra-May forgot her self-made pledge to stand firm when she looked into his eyes, stepping backwards in a desperate attempt to escape his stare.
	His commanding arm directed the demons, sending them earthward toward her frail form. They swooped down, their sole intention...to tear her heart from her chest...

	“...Their screams reached her ears even before they began their deadly dive,” warned the Storyteller. “She couldn’t move, her fear rooting her to the ground, her doom...imminent.”
	He sighed, casting his gaze about to gauge their reactions and was pleased.
	Leaning down toward them, in a secretive voice, he stated, “But something was protecting her, forcing her to react even as her mind was shutting down. She flung her arms up before her and somehow erected a magical shield against their attack.”
	“So intent was she that she didn’t notice when Ra-Nu joined the fight nor did she hear the impassioned cries of the Blues mingle with the angry howls of the Del-a-Shar’s pets. She had entered the void...”

	...Ra-Nu fought as if possessed. With his great sword, he lashed out at the encroaching demons, slicing them to bloody halves before they could threaten his ward. Black, inky blood flew in all directions as he refused to give quarter. His bravery buying her time...

	...From out of the darkness a call rang out -- the call to arms as King Mikam and his men charged down the beach toward the battle. Their mounts pounding the shore, sending large divots spraying into the air as they hastened their riders to aid the small group.
	“Ha,” Ra-Nu shouted to the horde when he heard the battle cry echo out behind him. “Now we shall send you back to the abyss that your foul kind crawled from...”

	...Torch took to the air, gaining altitude quickly. He surveyed the skies hastily, whistled lowly, and then descended sharply toward them, his dive so quick that Phillip feared he wouldn’t pull up in time.
	“We must hurry! The Del-a-Shar has called an army of demons to his side. They outnumber our friends greatly.”
	Phillip looked around desperately for Ar-Hur, but he was no where to be found. There was no time to wonder where he’d gone. Pulling his sword free, he nodded to Ar-Ion and Torch. “We are all there is it seems.”
	Torch bobbed his head in agreement, anxious to be off. He flew after Phillip’s racing form. Ar-Ion was not far behind...

	...Tilly watched them go, worry marring her delicate features. She knew that she could do no harm to the enemy, she was no warrior -- but she could aid them just the same.
	Summoning her magic about her, taking comfort in the soothing balm of its caress, she called out to any that could hear her summons.
	Her urging flew upon the wind, calling out to any who would fight. Relief washed over her when they heard her call. They would come, this she knew. She only hoped that it would not be too late. Turning, she flew swiftly down the beach after her Phillip...

	...Phillip’s battle cry trailed behind him like an army as he emerged from the darkened depths of the imprisoned land. “Face me you hounds from the Netherworld. I’ll not be so easily defeated.”
	Torch grinned, nodding as he followed the human into the fray. Lightning flowed from his fingertips as he met with his first opponent...

	...Tilly was terrified. She had taken to the air in a nervous flutter. She saw an unknown human fail to parry and fall to the ground after a winged demon’s attack. She saw Ra-Nu hacking through demons in an effort to shield Ra-May. She found many but not the one she sought.
	Turning in tiny pirouettes, she searched through tear-filled eyes...and then she saw Michall.
	The prince stood perched high above her, looking down upon the battle with what appeared to be passive indifference, yet his eyes belied his outer persona, shining with tightly controlled emotions.
	Tilly understood...she was of the Ancients.
	She swung her head back once again toward the battle, this time looking at the whole scene. Ra-May was growing weak, she could tell by the color of the magic the princess weaved. She would not be able to continue, or bear the strain much longer. Yet the Del-a-Shar remained empowered. There had been very little drain upon him.
	The demons were being cut down, but more continued to pour from the rent. There seemed to be no end to their number. She wrung her hands and looked to the prince’s perch once again. She hoped he did not take too long to act.
	Something caught her eye, and she pivoted yet again. The bluff wall had begun to sway, causing her to panic. The shadows along its immense base grew deeper, seemingly reaching outward in one long wave. She watched in horrid fascination, wondering what new form of evil was transpiring. She held her breath as the shadows whirled and changed, and then she understood.
	“Aye,” she screamed, waving her arms high into the air.
	Blues were pouring from openings that pocketed the bluff walls, abruptly bursting from the seamless stone. They came armed and ready to fight, their numbers capable of turning the tide.
	She clapped her hands, relief flooding into her soul even as another need drew her attention. Swinging in an arch, squinting against the constant stream of magical illumination, she sought its source.
	She felt his need even before she saw him and swooped downward to do what she could. Circling his head, she spoke the words of healing, trying to give him strength. Slowly, he revived.
	“Thank you, little one. I fear I am weaker than I thought. Your gift will not be wasted.” Ar-Ion touched a fingertip to her tiny cheek and smiled. “I will not easily again give up what is mine.”
	Tilly watched as he rejoined the battle, her compassion going out to him. She took to the air once again and surveyed the scene below her with an analytical eye.
	The battle was taking its toll. Humans, as well as Blues, littered the sandy shores. The fight was costly, and she worried for those still standing, but her fear lingered for only one.
	“Where are you, my Phillip?”
	“Oh, what can I do?” she cried as she searched frantically about her.
	Again she eyed the rocky ledge. “Do something!” she begged. With her fists clinched tightly, she flew toward him, determined to make him act but never reached Michall’s side.
	A giant gust of errant wind slammed into her slight form, sending her sailing backwards in uncontrolled flips, cantering helplessly through the air, back toward the main onslaught. She backpedaled, fighting for control.
	The hot wind hailed from the cliffs where the prince stood. Close on its heels came a blinding shaft of heat, aimed into the melee. “At last,” she cheered.
	The flash lit the charged skies, arching outward to impersonate the sun. Its multicolored hues hung effortlessly in the air, aiding all with its canopy of light...

	...Michall had watched dispassionately as Ra-May and the others fought for their lives. He’d not acted nor had he thought to do so. He remained within the void. He was stone, and nothing touched him.
	Ar-Hur stood at his side, hidden within his shadow, keeping the protective void in place. The boy could not be allowed to feel just yet. Masked, he was a useful weapon, if discovered too soon, all would be lost...

	...And then Ar-Hur sent the fireball to erupt and canopy the sky in blessed light...

	...The sky was alive with color, but she found she did not care. She remained shielded but now knew weakness, the void no longer able to keep her emotions at bay.
	Desperately, she sought vulnerability in his defense. Somewhere there had to be an opening. But where?
	Then she saw it. An opening completely unguarded. She allowed the protective void to take her completely, all her power concentrated, compacted for one final blow. It was all she had left. She hoped it was enough.
	She set it free, aiming for the chink in his arrogance, into those deep, hollow pools of nothingness that were a window to his rotten core. If he could be harmed, it would begin there.
	As the bolt left her so did consciousness. Her body, unable to stand the punishment any longer, sank down to embrace the welcoming sands. The blissful relief of the void blanketing her in grateful nothingness. If her arrow found its mark, she did not know, for now she was wrapped within the arms of another. She had found peace...

	“...She had done all that had been expected of her, for she had tired the Del-a-Shar, effectively draining off his magic without him even feeling its loss. His arrogance would be his undoing...”

	...The blue lightning flew true, angling out and upward toward its goal...

	“...Now, my son,” Ar-Hur whispered, gently guiding Michall out of the void. “It is time.”
	“What?” Michall stuttered, looking about with genuine confusion. “What has happened?”
	“Look around you, child. It is time for you to do what you have been born to do. Your destiny calls, do you answer?”
	Michall scanned the ensuing battle far below, and his blood ran cold. Sweat broke out across his brow, and his tongue grew dry and thick. He made to climb down to join the others, but Ar-Hur refrained him.
	“Nay, child. You must do your fighting from this lofty perch.”
	Michall turned angry, confused eyes upon the stranger but held his tongue, allowing him to explain.
	“Aye, you are the key. You have always been the key, Michall. The Del-a-Shar does not sense your power because you are human. To him, you are insignificant.”
	He studied the Elf before him in confusion, ‘Who was he?’ he wondered. As his stare met the shine of the other’s golden one, he understood.
	But he was being torn apart. His need to reach Ra-May warring with the ancient yearnings of his blood. Silently, he begged, ‘Ra-May, my heart bleeds. Forgive me,’ as he turned to the other and nodded. It remained his only choice and, he now understood, always had.
	“Good,” Ar-Hur agreed, his eyes growing sad. “It is time to set things in balance. Harmony must be rewon.” And quickly began to explain what must be done...

	...When Ra-May fell, Ra-Nu positioned himself above her prone body. He could do no more than keep the demons away from her still form and pray that she yet lived.
	Her bolt continued to climb, intent upon its foe. His laughter could be heard from somewhere beyond the light. The missile continued forward, ignoring his contempt.
	From beyond the lit arena, a new force threatened. It burned across the sky, arching toward Ra-May’s arrow, seeking the other out, but the Del-a-Shar stood in the way of that union.
	All fighting was suspended, frozen in motion as the scream from the streaking shafts forged across the luminous skies. The Del-a-Shar could be seen clearly between the bolts, urging his demon mount to dive...but the beast stubbornly refused to obey.
	“Nay,” he screamed as Ra-May’s missile neared. “Nay,” its echo repeated, the volume growing, the tone now filled with disbelief. “A mere child cannot harm me!” he shouted just before a blue bolt burst into one of his eyes.
	Just like the first, the second bolt found the same mark, throwing him backwards, dislodging him from his mighty beast. His foot caught and held within the stirrup, leaving him dangling from the saddle.
	The demon swooped, veering sideways and flipped over in an effort to remount its Master. When it righted, the Del-a-Shar once again held the reins.
	One eye hung in ruins, tattered membrane hanging from the lifeless socket. “For this,” he yelled to those below, “for this, she now dies. I play no more.”
	He hurled his magic downward at Ra-May’s prone figure, its red flame a deadly threat...

	...He didn’t think about his actions, he just reacted. As the deadly bolt left the bony finger of the skeleton that rode the demon, Phillip leaped.
	He intercepted the arrow, taking the hit himself. He had time to think that it had not felt so very bad before he sank into the encroaching darkness...

	“...No!” Michall lamented. The hideous creature still reigned supreme, lording over them from high above. Events were progressing in torpid, grievous momentum. First Ra-May and now Phillip. Who else would fall to this evil?
	He vociferated angrily into the air, at last drawing the attention of the Del-a-Shar.
	“Well, well,” he sneered. “What have we here? A bug? Nay, it is less than a bug...it is human.”
	He glided closer. “What talisman do you hide, boy? What trinket do you dare draw courage from?” He held out his hand expectantly. “Give it here, boy, and perhaps I will let you live.”
	“Do me no favors you foul-breathed spawn of perdition. What I possess, I keep. If you want it, you must take it.”
	“You are an insolent pup. Do you think that I cannot?” Again he held out his hand. He urged his beast closer. “I grow weary. Do not gainsay me or I shall be forced to destroy you. Obey and live.”
	Michall felt the hot wind generated by the immense wings but refused to step back. The demon’s foul, putrid breath wafted over him, coiling his stomach, but still he held his ground.
	Seeing that the human would not back away and unsure what he possessed, the Del-a-Shar did not dare turn his back but instead arched in lower. “So, you wish to play, do you?”
	“Yes, I wish to play.”
	“So be it then. Prepare to die,” he shouted, ready to throw a small bolt downward toward the errant human.
	Michall was ready, drawing Power up in defense.
	The Del-a-Shar shrunk back when the blade was produced, recoiling from its brilliance. “I know that blade,” he whispered. For the first time in countless phasings, his blood ran cold.
	“Where did you find the pretty toy, boy?” he cooed, hiding his distress. Once again the ‘Master of the Game’, he taunted, “If you want to be a true man, then it shames you to face me with a mere toy. Do you wish to run home and get a proper blade? If so,” he smiled lazily, leaning casually upon the saddle’s pommel and yawned, “I can wait.”
	“This toy will do,” Michall replied flatly. “It was a gift of blood-rite and serves me well.”
	The Del-a-Shar threw back his head and laughed, no longer worried about the power of the blade. If it was to be wielded by human hands, it would do him no harm. Eyeing Michall, he remarked with a sneer, “Blood-rite? I think not. Drop the foul thing, boy. Give me the blade so that I might absolve you.”
	Again he drew close, his hand extended toward the prince.
	“Yes,” Michall agreed. “I must drop it.” His words turning submissive, but the undertones were rancid with barely controlled contempt.
	The Del-a-Shar chortled loudly, smug with the ease of his victory. He sailed in closer to accept the coveted blade, but Michall backed away. Holding the sword feebly before him, he allowed its tip to mire itself in the dirt below his feet, thus keeping it just out of reach of the mounted rider. The Del-a-Shar was forced to land.
	Confidently, he dismounted, his hand extended expectantly. He would take Ar-Hur’s blade and destroy it, then there would be nothing left of the accursed fool.
	Michall knelt, Power held tight within his grasp, and waited.
	“Well, give it to me!” he demanded.
	“Yes, I will, right between your ribs!” Michall swore as he lunged for the demon-spawn.
	The Del-a-Shar responded quickly, hitting Michall full with a charged bolt. But it did no harm.
	“Impossible,” he shouted. “How can a mere human withstand my attack?”
	With a face contorted in rage, he lashed out in full force, thinking to explode the human into countless pieces. Michall parried each attack, meeting the magical blasts with Ar-Hur’s great blade.
	Breathless from exertion, he puffed, “Who are you, boy?”
	Staring contumeliously out of his uninjured eye while the tattered remains of the other gaped at nothing, he sighed, “How are you able to wield the ‘Sword of Power’ with such deadly grace?”
	“Do you not know your own blood, El-Hur?” A deep voice asked, filled with open sarcasm.
	He stood silent, staring intently at the human who named him true. “You lie. You cannot be of my blood?” Yet the question remained unanswered. The Del-a-Shar, now filled with actual doubt, stated, “I would sense it.”
	But had he not sensed it earlier?
	‘How had this happened?’ he wondered even as he formed a plan to be rid of the boy.
	“If you are truly of my blood, then face me openly. Do not hide behind a lifeless blade. Come face me not as the coward you seem but as a true warrior. Let this issue be settled once and for all time.”
	“Aye,” came the reply. “It is time.”
	The human’s lips did not move, yet behind him the darkness solidified, easily transforming into a recognizable image.
	“Nay,” he screamed in outrage. “This cannot be. You are dust! I remain strong while you have always been weak. You cannot think to defeat me?”
	“Come, brother. We have burdened this world far too long.”
	“So serene? You have always been a fool, Ar-Hur. And now it would seem that you are an even bigger one than I thought. I go no where with you. Surely you entertain no hope of winning? I shall defeat you and then enslave you too throughout eternity. You will soon regret that you were ever born.”
	“I already rue it, brother. For that was when you were born. Your touch has been a plague upon the land since. It is time to set things aright. You may either come peacefully or fighting. It makes no difference. But in the end, I will see this battle won. This I promise you.”
	El-Hur snarled his contempt and lunged at Ar-Hur’s throat. They locked arms, caught in a deadly embrace. The waltz of death was upon them as they grappled outward toward the edge of the cliff.
	A calmness similar to the void invaded Michall’s thoughts, and a soothing voice directed, “Be ready, my son. Watch and remain alert.”
	They clung to each other, determined to remain partnered in the dance of death. Each equal in power, each refusing to give quarter, each equally determined to win.
	Their magic remained tightly woven about them, somehow welding them together to cocoon the pair in its powerful grasp. The glare blinding, and the howl deafening as the combined energies sought to blend.
	The sky became a huge stage behind the dueling pair, forming a perfect backdrop for the drama that was being played out. Swirling winds caught at wayward clouds, unifying them into a massive, unstable curtain that impatiently awaited the next act.
	Darkness reigned within the center of the unfolding eruption, the vortex sucking relentlessly at those nearby. Michall struggled backwards away from the savage buildup, its pull threatening to suck him in. He dug his feet into the loose ground and awaited the command he knew would come.
	Ar-Hur turned his golden eyes upon the lad, his smile tight as he pulled his twin more firmly into his embrace. Then, in a mere blink, he hauled El-Hur over the cliff’s edge.
	The airy maelstrom expanded, its maw widening to accommodate their bulk, more than anxious to devour them. They grappled on, pendulous above the roaring waves, lingering just above the gaping vortex.
	“Now, Michall,” demanded the voice that he knew to be Ar-Hur.
	Aiming Power at the suspended pair, he called on the Elfen magic that had laid dormant for so long. It was time to answer its call.
	The awakening power reared possessively to lay claim, wailing up from deep within his being, erupting and turning his blood to liquid flame, exploding into every fiber of his being. Once summoned, it moved quickly, racing along his spine to eventually find an outlet through an extended arm.
	Shimmering light danced about his fist and leaped excitedly down the length of Power’s gleaming blade, turning it a hazy blue.
	Michall felt its energy build and watched in muted fascination as the blue began to expand, the hue changing to be framed by a golden aura.
	The golden light arched, spiking in its new found existence and stretched its lethal tendrils skyward directly at the grappling pair. It engulfed them, entrapping them in its incandescent weave. Behind them the vortex swirled, its dark features eagerly forming wild currents that flowed and ebbed. Random lightning bolts rocketed across the expanse, their jagged furrows burst, creating ornate patterns across the swaying sky.
	The motifs formed and unraveled, knitted together tightly and mated loosely, seemingly undecided as to the exact design to use. The unseen spider continued to spin its web, forcing it to completion.
	Then the lightning bolts united. Once converged, they split back upon themselves, tearing at the newly formed weave to reveal a hidden realm, a world where no living being would wish to venture.
	The dark twin was helpless to halt the weave, his power reduced to a trickle while enshrouded in the shadow of the Gold.
	The vortex pulled, dragging the suspended duel toward its core. In a matter of moments, they were sucked within the swirling mass, funneled quickly down the cyclonic pathway and forced into the distant realm beyond. Then the vortex snapped shut with a sickening pop, sealing them within forever.
	Michall heard the terrified scream echo out to him and shuddered. He waited, straining to hear more. When the soft sigh came, whispering gently past his ear, he knew sadness. The wind brushed past his face, cooled by the water below him, its voice pleasant, its breath masking the fading echoes of the others.
	“Farewell, Golden One. May your rest be peaceful,” Michall saluted.
	Below him he could hear the fading howls of the demon hordes being sucked back through the gate into their hideous world. With the Del-a-Shar gone, the gate could no longer remain open.
	The skies reverted, turning to the semblance of a gentle eve. Pinpoints of starlight appeared to replace the magical illumination of only moments before, their presence dotting the horizon, a welcome sight.
	He was soothed by the comforting song of the sea tides as they washed rhythmically back and forth across the grainy beaches.
	All was as it should be, yet he took comfort in none of it as he gazed down upon their still forms...

	“...Ah, well. What is to be done? Is there no justice in the world?” he asked somberly of the stunned crowd. “Is this how a fine story should end?”
	He eyed the tiny faces all turned upward, their blurry eyes filled with unconcealed disappointment and lamented, “No, my children, it is not how a fine story ends...”

	...Michall raced down the slope, heedless to the jagged rocks that tore into his exposed skin, his thoughts swirling with incurable disbelief. Even though he’d won, somehow he’d lost.
	‘How had this happened?’ ‘How could I have failed her?’ But he had failed, and because of that failure, she was taken from him. Beyond that thought lay only despair.
	He jumped the last few feet to the ground and sprinted across the beach, diving rudely into the bewildered crowd. Pushing his way through, he arrived to find his mate cradled in the arms of an unknown. Beside him kneeled a mournful Ra-Nu.
	Tears streamed down the warrior’s pale features as he gripped Ra-May’s white, motionless hands. Beside her, Phillip’s lifeless limbs lay crossed over an unmoving chest. His face, free of pain, pointed skyward in serene repose.
	‘In death,’ Michall sighed, ‘Phillip has achieved the illusive tranquility he’d struggled so hard for in life.’
	Quite suddenly a strange calmness engulfed him. Somehow he stood apart, safely ensconced outside himself viewing the scene through the eyes of a stranger. His mind still functioned on some level, but it was a level he couldn’t comprehend.
	Looking down to Phillip’s becalmed characteristics, he felt only curiosity. He noticed, incuriously, that his father knelt beside his kin’s prone form and wondered idly why he was there but didn’t let it concern him. He was numb to earthly cares.
	Acting in a dream-fashioned reality, he knelt and rescued Ra-May’s limp body. What he knew, and how, he could not say, he just knew that he had to take her away...and quickly. A stranger moved to protest, but Ra-Nu threw a restraining arm across his chest.
	Ra-Nu watched as Michall’s burdened form faded away along the horizon. He sighed and backhanded fresh tears from his face. His heart pained him greatly, and he wished the Crystal would relieve him of the burden.
	He turned to the still form of his friend and sank wearily to his knees on the sand beside him. “It should have been me. I shall miss you always, little man.”
	Free from the stares of others, Michall also sank down upon the damp sands, gently placing Ra-May’s body before him. The numbness that had sheltered him was gone. He grieved, allowing all the pain and heartache to flow free.
	He laid his tearstained cheek upon her still bosom. His chest burnt, and he struggled to escape the hurt. He had never known such pain, didn’t know if he’d survive it, and wasn’t sure he wanted too.
	“Do not weep, my son. You have done well. It is time to rejoice.”
	Michall raised confused eyes skyward. “Who has spoken?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion.
	“We are of no great consequence, but we are grateful.”
	“Grateful?” he sneered to the swaying air currents. He briefly wondered if he’d lost his mind but found that he didn’t care. “Why are you grateful?”
	“We are grateful that our child’s wayward reign is over, although we have experienced guilt for our harsh usage of you. Do not grieve so for her. Her accomplishments shall not be ignored, or yours.”
	Michall shrugged. He just didn’t care. Let the voices drive his weary mind into total collapse. He didn’t wish to argue with his fevered mind. He waved his hand behind him, dismissing them.
	But the voices would not be banished. The volume rose, shaking him from his blinding grief.
	“She only sleeps, her spirit floats serenely in the Crystal’s protective embrace. She is adrift on the edges of our Realm, learning...and preparing for her future.”
	“It is too soon for her to join us, she has many phasings left, but it must be you who restores her spirit to your plane. We beg you to listen and do as we instruct as time slips away.”
	His face a mask of torment, he looked through swollen eyes toward the water. “What else have I to lose,” he whispered.
	“Have faith, our son. First you must take her ring and lay it upon the ground. Then pull Power free to sing. Strike downward and strike true and smash the stone with the blade and set her free. Do it quickly or do not bother to do it at all.”
	Not fully comprehending but none-the-less anxious to try, he took the heavy ring from her still form. Standing, he searched desperately about, looking for a strong, solid base in which to anchor it. His blow needed to smash the jewel not bury it in the sand.
	Spying a toothy column of rock extending from the damp shoreline, he ran to it. He eyed it critically. ‘It will have to do.’
	Wedging the ring between two jagged spurs that ran along the columns base, he drew Power. Gripping its hilt with both hands, he lifted and swung true. The blade whisked through the air, humming sweetly in its descent to shatter the fiery gem into sections, sending sparkling slivers flying out and downward to the grainy beach below.
	The sky rained multicolored sparks all about him, and he was awash in its glory. Power was warm in his grasp, humming its strange yet familiar song. He stood waiting...

	...Hesitantly, in a lazy fashion, she opened her eyes to the comforting sounds of tidal rhythm. She felt different. Somehow changed but unchanged. The warring sensations were perplexing.
	The stars winked a cheery welcome above her, beckoning her to rise and frolic in the gentle light.
	She laughed, rejoicing in the peculiar feelings, she immediately accepted the invitation...

	...Phillip felt relaxed and quite contented. He didn’t know why someone should be crying when he felt so at peace. Grudgingly, he wondered if he should rise and seek out the sadness.
	He raised a sluggish hand gently to his tangled mane and sat up. Someone screamed. He popped his eyes open quickly, too quickly, leaving him lightheaded and disorientated.
	Tilly hovered above him, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen yet wide with shock. He drew his finger lightly across her soft cheek.
	“Why, whatever is wrong, my little flutterbug?”
	“Phillip, you are well? Or are you spirit?” her tiny voice croaked.
	He eyed her strangely, her words confusing...and then he remembered. He lunged to his feet and pounded his chest, feeling for the wound that he knew should be there but was not.
	By now he had drawn a small crowd. They stood about him, their faces a mixture of joy and fear.
	“What happened?” he croaked. “I should be dead, but I’m not. Then,” he asked in alarm, “Then I was too late? Ra-Nu, was I too late? Is she gone?”
	The tall Elf only shook his head, his eyes holding the same shock that he had seen in the others. Phillip felt his chest constrict...

	“...Ra-May?” Michall’s deep voice moaned. She turned her head at the sound, offering him a confused smile. He pulled her into his embrace and murmured, “Ra-May, I don’t care how its happened, only that it has.”
	She snuggled closer. She did not know why he made such a statement, nor did she care at the moment. It was enough to be wrapped securely within his warm, protective embrace. She would eventually remember -- but not now...

	“...It was Ar-Hur’s ring, children. That and the power of the Ancients that shielded them. Phillip was deemed worthy, first by his chivalrous act and second because of the love bore him by tiny Tilly.”
	He smiled, his pale lips cracked and dry from the long telling, pained him. The upturned corners appeared wistful, his gaze remote and far away. He looked out to the rows of tiny heads and shook a finger at them.
	“Yes, and a fine act it was too...”

	...Michall rose, sweeping her along with him. “We must return to the others. There is something I must do.”
	She nodded. Taking his hand, they walked in silence. His eyes held deep sorrow, a sadness that Ra-May did not understand. It pained her to see it settled so comfortably in his dark stare.
	They approached the scene with some confusion. There was a knot of Blues encircling the spot where he’d left Phillip’s body.
	He pushed their way through, angry that others would find his kin’s death such a show...even as he wondered why Ra-Nu did nothing to force them back.
	The crowd parted. Many patting him on his shoulders as he pressed forward. Some bowed to Ra-May, but all smiled, their faces alight with joy. And none seemed surprised to see her. He looked down at her and then ahead to the center of the mass.
	“Could it be?” he whispered and immediately tugged Ra-May forward at a faster pace.
	The final layer of bodies parted, revealing those within the center.
	Michall allowed the scene to register on his numbed mind. Then gave an exuberant shout, sending it echoing out into the long faded twilight.
	As one, their heads turned.
	Phillip’s towheaded mane swung around, a wide, impish grin spreading wickedly across his face, “I say, old boy, where have you been? You always seem to miss the fun!”
	Spying Ra-May behind his disheveled kin, Phillip became intoxicated. Tears rolled freely down their cheeks as Michall and Phillip hugged.
	The scene became much the same for Ra-Nu as he swung Ra-May into his embrace. Meaty arms encircled her, nearly concealing her from sight.
	He laid a damp cheek upon her golden locks and whispered, “Child of my heart, welcome back from the Realm of no tomorrows.”
	The stranger Michall had seen earlier walked forward, extending his hand to him in greeting. Michall turned and eyed the Elf skeptically, extending his own hand in hesitant greeting. He remained silent, allowing the stranger to speak first.
	“I want to express my heartfelt thanks for bringing my Ra-May back to me. I do not understand what has happened but know it is a blessing that should not be taken for granted. A gift from the Ancients should never be questioned only accepted. You, lad, have been sent here to bestow this gift, and I am honored that I am able to accept it for my Race.”
	Michall looked down at the odd Elf with a brow raised in challenge. Crossing his arms menacingly across his chest, he demanded, “What do you mean, ‘your’ Ra-May? Who are you to so boldly lay a claim to my wife?”
	“Wife?” Mikam spouted, swinging around to face his son. “What?...Oh, for the love of Doran, Michall!” he spewed in exasperation, throwing his hands in the air to punctuate his confusion. “I don’t understand any of this!”
	Michall sighed and shook his head wearily. His father stood before him tired, confused, and looking much older than he remembered him to be, and he didn’t know how to explain any of it.
	“Mate?” the stranger mimicked.
	He didn’t know who to address first. He ran a hand through thick, errant tresses. “Father,” his tone seemed soft and wispy, conveying his love but laced with his confusion, “Why are you here?”
	Mikam puffed out his chest, achieving a small resemblance to the man Michall knew and loved. He’d not missed the subtle undercurrents in his son’s voice. He pinned him with a menacing stare and shouted, “I came to save your ungrateful neck, and it’s a good thing I did, too!”
	The prince bowed his head in mock submission. In truth, he didn’t want his father to witness the sheepish grin that spread across his features.
	“But you avoid the issue here, you said ‘wife’. Would you care to explain?”
	“That’s correct, Father. Ra-May and I are wed.” He turned away before Mikam could question further, reverting his attention to the strange Elf who laid claim to his wife.
	“Now I’ll ask you again. Who are you to lay claim to Ra-May? If you knew her as your words proclaim, then you would know that no one may claim her...no one!” he added pointedly, waiting for the Elf to explain.
	Ra-Nu stepped between the two and placed a beefy palm against each chest. “I think I...” he began, trying to stave them off until he had time to prepare Ra-May, but he could not.
	Shaking off his restraint, he puffed his chest out regally. Looking up into Michall’s dark eyes, the stranger stated with authority, “I, lad, am King Ar-Ion, her Sire.”
	Michall, scrutinizing his features closely, wondered why he’d not seen the resemblance sooner. He looked quickly down to Ra-May.
	Her shocked, glassy stare, coupled with a waning pallor, spoke volumes. She had not known. He reached down and took her hand, gripping it firmly within his own.
	“I’m sorry, King Ar-Ion, for speaking so disrespectfully. It is indeed an honor that we are able to finally meet.” The prince bowed, slipping effortlessly into Court behavior.
	Ar-Ion smiled and accepted Michall’s outstretched hand. “Let me say, it is an honor to have such a fine son in my family.”
	“Sire?” echoed out to them. Ra-May’s shock was fading, but still there was disbelief echoing within her words.
	“No patience. None at all,” Ra-Nu sputtered. “If I could only teach the young this one lesson, I would join the Ancients a contented Elf...”

	“...I don’t know if Ra-Nu ever managed to teach the young that lesson. I don’t know for sure if he ever learned it himself,” cackled the old man.
	An unknown man’s deep bass joined him in his laughter -- a very deep bass. The Storyteller smiled, reminded of another’s deep laughter.
	“Soon and soon again, all things must eventually come to an end...”

Chapter Forty-five
Anything is Possible

	He placed his shriveled hands upon his wasted, bony knees and gave them a sad little smile. “It was a good tale, no?”
	The children nodded in unison. One brave boy stood and approached the old man but did nothing but lick his lips while looking around nervously.
	The Storyteller snapped, “What is it, boy? Speak, for I grow all the more ancient just awaiting your question.”
	“Is that all?
	“What?” he asked, surprised by the child’s continued interest.
	“Please, old Master, is that all there is?”
	“What makes you ask?” he countered. Of course there was more, but he’d thought to end his tale in Sol. The rest was painful...at least for him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to share the memories.
	A small lass came slowly forward, a finger pressed to her lips in bashful curiosity. She approached him with a shy smile lighting her eyes.
	With the complete trust carried only by the very young, she crawled into the Storyteller’s lap and patted his bearded cheek gingerly, “Please, tell the rest?” her tiny voice coaxed. “Please?”
	He sighed, reluctant but resigned. “Yes, there is more but only a bit, and then I am through. Gather round...”

	...Ra-May looked into the calm countenance of the Elf who claimed to be her Sire and then looked away, turning her huge, confused orbs on Ra-Nu.
	He coughed, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other. Finally, he shrugged and nodded in the affirmative. “Here, Sprite. Come to me and let me hold you as my own -- one last time.”
	She quickly stepped into the shelter of his embrace. A deep, painful groan escaped his lips, bearing testimony to the wound that was ripping his heart to shreds.
	He whispered under his breath while twirling her in his grasp to face Ar-Ion, “There, child of my heart, is your true father. Honor me by honoring him?” he begged, stepping backwards to leave her standing alone. She felt the chill caress her back where his warmth had mantled her only moments before.
	Gone suddenly shy, she felt extremely vulnerable, in a way more alone than she had ever been before. The alien emotion threatened to overcome her sanity and cripple her will.
	Ar-Ion waited, staring at the stranger that was his child. He had known her once as a babe, but now before him stood a lass grown. He did not know how he was going to bridge the huge crevasse that strangled them in its awkward silence.
	Michall felt her confusion -- understood it well -- and his heart lurched. His arms encircled her waist. She immediately felt the warmth succor her soul. Tipping her head back, she gave him a limp smile. She was not alone and never really had been, she realized. The knowledge gave her back her courage.
	He returned the smile. Gently nudging her forward, he whispered in her ear, “Go on, he’ll not harm you. Can’t you see the longing in his face, see the same fear you possess buried there?”
	It really would be such a simple thing to do, but she could not seem to manage it. She found she was a strange simmer of confusing emotions. Part of her really did want to go to Ar-Ion, but then another side was afraid. By accepting him, her mind reasoned, she would lose Ra-Nu. It made no sense, but the notion clung strong.
	Ar-Ion finally broke the silence. Reaching out, he took her trembling hands in his own nervous grasp. Sinking down on one knee, he stated, “You are so like your mother -- all afire with your own inner light. My heart soars at the sight of you.”
	He caressed her hands lightly while staring up into her confused face. “I have longed to hold you, child, to see that you were well but remained always grateful that you were safely tucked away from all the vileness, thankful that the Crystal saw fit to protect you.”
	His smile turned thoughtful.
	“I never faltered in my secure knowledge that you were safe and provided for by my dear friend, Ra-Nu.”
	He rose and held his arms out, grateful when she accepted.
	Quietly, with a shaking voice, he whispered, “This belief sustained me, giving hope where otherwise there would have been nothing...”

	“...and he was accepted. Now events move quickly, children, so pay very close attention or you will miss something. My time grows short, and my body begs for its rest...”

	“...Ar-Ion,” came a shout from behind. Two blonde heads turned in unison. Coming up the beach in a rapid trot was a golden-haired Elfen maiden. Her hair flew in wild disarray, dancing freely with the soft breezes flowing off the salty waters of Sol.
	“Unless I’m losing my vision, I would say that your mother-in-law arrives,” Phillip stated matter-a-factly. “Ah, well. It was simpler when Ra-May had only one watchdog, don’t you agree, Michall?”
	Michall remained silent, his brow riddled with deep, thoughtful grooves.
	Phillip laughed, “Don’t think too hard, old boy. It really is most unhealthy.”
	Jabbing Phillip sharply in the ribs as he moved away, he mumbled, “Maybe it was better before.”
	“Before what?” Phillip piqued, following closely behind.
	“When you were silent...”

	...El-Cha laughed as he joined them. “It is done, then?” he asked. Seeing their nods, he sighed, “Harmony shall be restored. This is good.”
	Ra-Nu stood back in the shadows, amazed to see so many Elfen Bands occupying the sandy shores. When he had heard Mi-Ra’s soft voice call out, his heart had leapt to his throat. He had not dared to hope. His heart was gladdened yet deeply saddened as well. He had lost his Sprite, and no amount of joy could erase that knowledge. He grieved his loss deeply.
	El-Cha sensed his friend’s sorrow, witnessed it as it crossed his light features to stain them in somber gloom. He moved to join him, but Michall moved into his shadow, stopping him from reaching the sullen warrior.
	“All has turned out well,” El-Cha stated, absently making small talk while raising a questioning brow in Ra-Nu’s direction.
	Michall replied lightly, “Yes, I think it has. Or it will if all goes as planned.”
	They eyed Ra-Nu’s taciturn form covertly, continuing with their polite but mundane conversation. El-Cha winked, and Michall nodded, more than willing to follow his lead.
	“Of course,” El-Cha started rather serenely, pretending not to notice Ra-Nu at all, “it seems you shall have not one but two father-in-laws to please now. I do not envy you, Michall.”
	“Yes, it’s a sobering thought, but I believe Ra-Nu’s the one I should be weary of. He’ll surely be the one Ra-May runs to the moment I anger her. Isn’t it true that brides run home hoping their father’s will make their mates behave?”
	“Aye, it would seem that some do,” El-Cha answered thoughtfully. “Aye, my advice to you would be to stay on the good side of Ra-Nu.”
	The big warrior straightened his shoulders and smiled, cocking his head sideways in order to better hear their conversation.
	El-Cha turned away from Michall and seemed surprised to find Ra-Nu near. Motioning for him to join them, he stated, “Let us walk for I have concerns...”

	“...but why did I know him as Ruhtra? Why not Ar-Hur or Arthur?” Mikam asked El-Cha. They walked casually along the beach head, enjoying the lights of the setting sun as it spilled across the waters of Sol.
	“I have wondered about this too. From the time I heard your tale, it has been a puzzle. But I think that I finally see,” the other replied thoughtfully.
	“The spell was designed to work in reverse, allowing Ar-Hur to grow younger with each new cycle. The saying of the name -- Ar-Hur’s human name backwards -- was the incantation that powered the spell. The more it was spoken, the finer the magical weave.”
	Mikam frowned. He was beginning to understand, and that was worrisome. He should understand very little, if anything at all, about these beings. The mere fact that he was comprehending magic astonished him.
	At first, when he’d been told that these beings were in reality the legendary Elfen Race of childhood fairy tales, he grew anxious. He knew absolutely nothing about them -- and his son had married one!
	He grinned sheepishly. He was calmer now. In truth, he was quite taken with his daughter-in-law and dared anyone to speak against her. He could easily understand why Michall was so besotted, he nearly was himself.
	Ruhtra, or Ar-Hur, he corrected, was a different matter. He had grown to respect him and found that he missed his companionship. It was odd because the wizard had in all honesty scared him.
	He wondered if he would have been brave enough to do what Ar-Hur had done...or would he have clung jealously to a second chance at life? He shook his head. He hoped he would never have to find out.
	El-Cha reminded him of Ar-Hur. He supposed that was why he continued to seek out the little Elf.
	They shared a bond...a common sorrow.
	The Elves had delayed leaving Sol, living off of Queen Morning Dew’s hospitality. She had her sons and her husband safely back at her side and in gratitude granted them succor for as long as they wished. The Elves needed time to heal, time to adjust to grim realities.
	The first truth was that Ra-Jee was hidden, and a way had to be found to reopen the veil that concealed it. Then they would have to rebuild -- if they could. The second -- the Elves would have to walk most of the way. There was no other choice left to them.
	Neither El-Cha, nor Ra-May had the power to send them all home by magical means. So, El-Cha would lead them as he had promised. It was something that he needed to do, an atonement for their loss. A small thing compared to the debt he felt they were owed.
	He had thought that it would be Ar-Hur that lead his Race homeward with himself following serenely behind. But Ar-Hur was gone.
	El-Cha sighed, “If only I could have said farewell.”
	Mikam put a comforting hand on his shoulder as they made their way back to camp. Mikam understood. He wished he’d had that chance too...

	...Michall watched as the sun sank below the waves. His thoughts, like the horizon, were far away. Come first cycle, he and Ra-May would be on the road, heading home to Doran. He’d opted to journey back in the company of his father for there were many things he must attend to personally...and one of them was Marthee.
	He felt an odd sense of pity mingle with his anger each time he thought of her lies, and the clever trap she’d thought to imprison him within. Yes, she was one detail that needed his personal attention.
	Ra-Nu, Phillip, and Tilly wished to accompany them. That left El-Cha to remain behind, eventually leading the Elfen Race home to a place that, Ra-May assured him, waited. If all went well, Michall and the others would meet up with them again outside of Doran -- if all went as planned.
	Having forged a friendship with the Elfen prince that Michall found intriguing, his father had ordered the majority of his Guard to remain behind and assist El-Cha.
	Torch had left earlier, near the start of the cycle, on an errand to find his King. Ra-May had sent him to convey her wishes that they return to Ra-Jee. When he heard her request, Torch had gifted her with a rare grin.
	Before disappearing along the distant trail, he had extracted a pledge from Tilly to behave. Satisfied with her sincerity, he had promised the others that he would wait for them near the Witches’ Wood. Then he rose into the air and disappeared.
	Michall chuckled as he remembered Torch’s warnings, ‘“Stay away from my sister,”’ and Phillip’s reddened face when he tried to reply.
	He looked out across the waves, forcing his thoughts to return to the present. Many worries plagued him, many unasked questions that lead to feared, unspoken answers. What was he to do? Whatever his choices, whatever his final decisions, he would have to announce them soon.
	He stood and walked further down the beach, seeking the cool solitude of the lengthening shadows.
	He sank gratefully down to the moist sand and listened to the alluring song of the sea. Its wispy chords floated over him, delicately plucking at his mind, tuning his thoughts -- calming his fears...

	...Ra-May spent most of her free time acquainting herself with her parents. It seemed so odd to now have a father and a mother.
	There were moments that she wanted to turn tail and hide, but then she would see Ra-Nu hovering nearby, a silent reminder to act in the manner that she had been taught. Refusing to shame him by acting any less, she would always square her shoulders and endure.
	It was not that she was ungrateful, because she was glad her parents had survived, but she did not know them. They wanted to smother her with their attention, keep her at their sides, and she was not use to being kept so.
	Ar-Ion had actually demanded that his daughter travel with them while Michall took care of his business in Doran. Ra-May saw the storm swirling in his dark eyes, witnessed the tense flex of his shoulders and held her breath.
	But Michall had bowed respectfully and said only that it was her decision not his and then quickly left the camp. Ra-May sighed. She was going to break Ar-Ion’s heart.
	She watched Michall as his proud frame disappeared down the lonely stretch of beach. She realized that he needed her more now then he had ever needed anyone but remained to proud to beg.
	She could see El-Cha following in his shadow and turned back toward her parents...

	“...Humph,” clearing his voice, El-Cha announced his presence.
	Michall lay on the sand, his hands propped behind his head, starring skyward. He didn’t turn as he spoke, “Sit down, El-Cha. Your presence is welcome.”
	Choosing a spot, the Elf tucked his legs under him, sank to the sandy shore, and looked out to the waters of Sol. They seemed content to remain so, each lost in the beauty of the dark waters.
	Finally, Michall asked, “Why did you followed me here, El-Cha? Is there something bothering you?”
	“Aye, but it concerns you more than me.”
	“How so?” Michall queried, turning to face him. He lay on his side using his hand as a cushion and awaited El-Cha’s answer.
	“Before Ar-Hur...left,” he sighed, his voice betraying his grief, “he bid me gift you with my knowledge. Ask, Prince, and I shall answer true. I know you have many questions that your pride and your fear forbid you to ask.”
	Michall rolled onto his stomach and propped himself lazily upon his elbows. Idly, he scooped up a handful of sand and watched as it escaped through his clenched fingers.
	“Do you see this, El-Cha?” he nodded to the grains of sand. “This is my life...my short life. And there,” he tossed the sand away and rolled to his back. Waving an arm upward at the sky, he declared, “and that is the life of an Elf.”
	Ah, now El-Cha understood. His smile confused the prince. “It will be well, Michall. You are more than this,” he scooped up his own sand and let it slip gracefully through his own spread fingers. “Do you not feel it?”
	“Feel what? My heart quickens whenever I think of how little time I will have with Ra-May. All I feel is self-pity, and it sickens me.”
	El-Cha eyed him prodigiously, not quite sure what else he could say, and then understanding dawned. “Of course, you would not know, but I do and shall attempt to explain.”
	Michall sat up, honestly intrigued. El-Cha waved a hand to settle him, “You see, when your Elfen blood rose, so did the Crystal’s magic. You possess it now too. Ah, I see by your face that you are confused.”
	“The magic calls to the blood and aids you -- gifts you with its characteristics. You are now more Elf than human. You have plenty of time to be, for you have become the sky.”
	“Is this true?” Michall asked in a rush. “Can such a thing really happen?”
	“Anything is possible, Michall. You do not need to understand only believe.”
 	The prince lay back down, looking once again to the wide expanse of darkening sky overhead and grinned.
	El-Cha smiled slyly, “What else plagues you, Michall? Perhaps I can chase your other fears away as easily as the first.”
	“Thank you, El-Cha. My concerns become easily organized now, they seem somewhat smaller than first conceived.”
	“Michall, I am always available to instruct. All you need do is ask, and I will come,” the little Elf offered.
	“And I’m grateful, El-Cha...for everything.”
	The Elf lay back, mimicking Michall’s position on the cool sand and looked to the skies with a pleased grin spreading across his own face...

	“...and he was content,” whispered the Storyteller. “He’d finally found an era that needed him, a place where he felt useful. But what of the others? Michall seemed at ease, but how did the others fare with their own private concerns -- and fears?...”

Chapter Forty-six
Only for Her

	She squinted anxiously against the invading rays of the climbing sun, refusing to avert her eyes until she could no longer see their fading forms.
	She wished them a swift and uneventful journey, one filled entirely with the joys of simple companionship and ease. They had tasted enough strife in their young lives. It was time for trivial adventures.
	The waves rolled in toward her, splashing against her sandaled feet to wet the hem of her dress, but she ignored its sirens call. She would return to the water, but not before she had paid her respects.
	Her concentration was broken by a warm hand caressing her bare shoulder. She turned her head and smiled. Her husband smiled back.
	Leaning against him, she again took up her vigil. The last rider was becoming a mere speck, soon they all would be on their way with her blessings.
	King Roaring Waves tugged anxiously on her arm, hoping to lure her into the water.
	She shook her head and sighed, “Not yet, our love. We still must see to the needs of the Elfen encampment. If they are content, then so shall we be.”
	“Come, let us be about our duties swiftly, our children and our people wish to return to our homelands,” he urged.
	“To the sea we shall soon merge, but first we go to our guests,” she stated, looking one last time to the east, silently sending her thanks upon the winds...

	“...Queen Morning Dew was very grateful,” he grinned. “Not only did she have her husband and beloved sons, Princes’ Winter Storm and Spring Shower, back with her but all the men of her Race too. She now had a chance to marry off the Princess’ Rain and Brook and possibly see grandchildren soon.”
	He chuckled, his voice dry -- wispy. “But I digress. Let’s see, where was I...”

	...The weary group rounded the last bend of their journey. It had been a slow, uneventful trip. Doran lay hidden just beyond the hilly horizon, and the horses seemed to sense that their journey was nearing its end.
	Michall rode in silence. His thoughts were distant, his mind set in careful contemplation. He had enjoyed the return journey and was somewhat saddened that it was near its end.
	He was home, but not for long, for he’d already decided that he wanted to hurry on to Ra-Jee, at least on to the valley. Despite Ra-May’s assurance, Ra-Jee might decide to stay hidden. For now the direction was enough. All he wanted was to be free, free to form a life with his wife.
	There were obligations being pressed upon her, and he intended to help her in those challenges. Rebuilding a crumbled kingdom wasn’t going to be easy. ‘Finding it might become our greatest challenge,’ he thought ruefully.
	He sighed. His parents would just have to try and understand. He would return if and when he was needed, but until that time, his heart went with his mate.
	As if she sensed his thoughts, she turned and gifted him with a bright smile. Her golden eyes shone like a beacon to his soul. He smiled back and offered her his hand. She accepted, and they rode quietly and contently side-by-side toward Doran.
	He had openly discussed his worries with her, and she had assured him that he did indeed have plenty of time to do anything he wished.
	“It is really quite simple, once you begin to think about it,” she’d explained. “Your life span has been altered. You will outlive many of your subjects, and still it will not be time for us to accept the throne of Ra-Jee. My sire will live for many phasings yet, and I have no intention of challenging him for rule. So, we may travel whenever and wherever we choose. We are free!”
	She’d then grinned rather slyly, cradling his head upon her lap as she gently pressed her lips to his. “We do not have to be extremely serious for many, many phasings. We have a long time open to play. Would you enjoy that, my dark prince?”
	“Yes, that would be most enjoyable,” he’d replied softly. “I can hardly wait to begin.”
	His mount whinnied, bringing him back to the here-and-now. Its pull on the bit rebelled against the slower more leisurely pace they now set as if it knew hay and oats awaited just over the rise. He couldn’t blame the poor beast, he missed his own soft bed and knew that a hot bath was to be had once reaching the main road, but he was still hesitant to reach Doran. Facing his mother was not going to be easy, she would not be as accepting as his father had been.
	They rounded the bend and, quite suddenly, Doran came into view, spreading outward across the landscape in pleasant laziness, calling welcome to the weary travelers.
	He reined in his mount with a heavy sigh. Ra-May slowed her own and pulled next to him. He ran a hand through his warring tresses and eyed the serene scene before him. ‘Yes, free...free to do whatever I wish...’

	“...and so, their tale comes to an end,” he finished. “They retired to Ra-Jee permanently. The Elfen Race had found and rebuilt their beautiful city, and harmony returned to the land. All was right with the world, all was balanced and even.”
	‘All,’ he thought dolefully. ‘All except for one small man, left bereft and alone in a world of strangers.’
	“Now, children, that is all. Be off with you. Everyone lived happily ever after just as I stated.”
	“I’ll say no more this cycle. My tale is through. A new cycle will dawn soon and possibly a new tale,” he hinted, easing their protests. “Off to bed with all of you, shoo!”
	The children rose slowly...dreamily, their eyes misty, their minds filled with images of Elfen beings and enchanted kingdoms hiding behind concealing magic. They sought their beds, their faces showing their contentment for the tale and a hint of excitement for the possibility of a new one to come. They stumbled homeward to awaiting pallets and warm, crackling fires, leaving him alone.
	He sat, watching them go, his bones aching in every joint. “Now?” he asked the stars. “Is my time finally come to an end?” But the only answer he received was the soft whoosh of the late breeze.
	“Just as I expected,” he snarled. “There will be no rest for these old bones.”
	He made his way carefully down the stairs of his tiny stage and reached for the cane leaning near the end of the steps. He raised his eyes skyward, once again studying the sky. It was very late and he had a long way to travel to reach the softness of his own bed.
	Sighing resignedly, he headed out, his cane thumping the ground in measured progression. “Take me home, legs. I grow weary of the history surrounding me.”
	“Mostly ancient history,” he corrected with a sly grin. He’d lived a very long time and wished only for the time to come to an end.
	He laughed, speaking out to the shadows that lurked always hauntingly within his mind. “I remember how I feared you, Death, how I ran from the sight of you. Now...well now you’re all I think about, all I aspire to achieve...”

	...They had returned home as he’d told the children, and Michall and Ra-May had indeed eventually returned to Ra-Jee -- and hopefully a wonderful life. He wished he knew the answer to that, but he didn’t. He’d been separated from his friends far too long.
	“All for love,” he chortled. “And I would do it again if I had too.”
	The Storyteller stumbled, his cane nearly snapping from the sudden weight that was thrust upon it.
	“But when will the enchantment be done? When will the debt be paid?...”

	“...But,” a reminisced voice broke into his silent musings, successfully invading his thoughts and forcing him to recall what had brought him to his present state, “if you do this thing, it will mean banishment...untold misery. Are you prepared to make such a sacrifice?” he demanded.
	“Yes, dear boy, I am. I love her. Funny, but I guess I always did. She needs someone to take on her Bands debt. Someone who loves enough to make the spell react. I will accept the responsibility. I will set her free.”
	“Free but without you. You’ll never see her again. Is that what you really want?” Michall asked. He just couldn’t allow him to make this mistake and lose him forever.
	“Michall, would you do it for Ra-May? Would you give her the life she deserves even if it meant the loss of your own?”
	“Yes, I would,” he admitted, reluctant to give quarter. “Go on then, give your gift, I’ll honor your decision.”
	“Yes, it’s my unruly luck and poor timing you realize to fall in love just at the moment I have to leave...”

	...and he’d made the sacrifice, gladly...for her -- and vanished in a swirl of magic. He knew that he’d pledged himself to walk the world as an old man...doomed to bear the face of death, experience the weariness of the soul, lingering on with no hope of rest. And when death finally did call, he would go unobtrusively.
	Had it been worth it? Yes, it had, he admitted. She had needed him, and he’d answered. He’d been assured that Tilly and all the other Fire Elves would transform into their former selves because he had agreed to the terms of the spell. Now he hoped that they were living peacefully within the Valley of Ra-Jee.
	And, he confessed, he remained always grateful to Ar-Hur and the so-called ‘Ancients’, for if they had not gifted Ra-May with their shared magical knowledge, the curse upon Tilly’s Band would still be in place. Yes, it had all been worth it if she was happy.
	He saw his tiny hut’s shape loom up in the distance and quickened his pace, anxious to be home. It always hurt to think of her, and he tried to force her from his thoughts. “It’s the tale stirring up old hurts, that’s all. Maybe this cycle the spirit will see a way clear to take me, and my heart will no longer pain me.”
	His door creaked, evidently in need of oil, as he shoved it inward. “Perhaps I will take care of it come first cycle or, if I am fortunate, there will be no need.”
	He moved assuredly in the velvety dark, angling for the one candle he still possessed, but before he could strike a flint and place a flame to its tattered wick, he became aware that he was not alone within the tiny room.
	Cautiously, he weaved his way toward the near wall and placed his bowed back against it, surprised that he was not as anxious to die as he kept telling himself.
	“Who is there?” he asked of the dark, wishing that he had his sword beside him and snorted. ‘I wish I had the strength it took to lift it,’ he amended.
	“It’s me, Phillip. I’ve come to take you home.”
	He struck flint to wick, sending tiny sparks chasing into the shadows as it ignited.
	“Step into the light,” the old man demanded, glad to hear that his voice had not betrayed his nervousness. He thought he knew the voice, although he’d not heard it in many, many phasings. He didn’t dare to hope.
	The figure moved, stepping into the tiny circle of light, and the Storyteller sank unwillingly down to his knees. If not for Michall’s strong, quick support, he would have landed in an unruly heap on the cold, dirt floor.
	“So, my time is up?” he whispered, his voice weak and exhausted. “Has the debt been paid in full?”
	“Yes, paid in full and then some. It’s time,” his kin whispered. “You’ve been through enough misery.”
	“Ra-May, if you’re ready, I think we should hurry,” Michall instructed earnestly.
	She stepped from the shadows and smiled affectionately down into his pale face. “It will be well, my dear, dear Phillip. Your suffering has come to an end.”
	She ran silky fingers across paper thin skin, sighing at the frail condition she found him in. “Shush, my friend. I will end this now.”
	He reached up and halted her, “Wait,” he pleaded. “Give me a moment, please. I would find no peace beyond the grave without giving my final farewells.”
	Ra-May nodded, shaking her head negatively at Michall as he opened his mouth to protest. ‘Let him be,’ her eyes seemed to plead.
	“How I’ve missed you, Michall. Did you hear my tale? Did you receive my tribute?”
	“Yes, Phillip, I heard. Now rest.” Michall took his frail hand in his and squeezed. “I won’t let anything harm you ever again. I promise.”
	“Oh, it was not so terrible. I die a fortunate man knowing that my Tilly has been given a rebirth. Please tell her I died with her name on my lips. Tell her I love her and always shall. Would you do this for me?” Phillip begged, his voice raspy with uncontrolled emotions.
	Michall nodded.
	“Close your eyes, Phillip. It will be over soon. I promise you will not feel a thing,” Ra-May instructed.
	He shut his eyes and sighed. He was unafraid as he prepared himself for the ultimate journey and felt no remorse as he fell into darkness and dreamed...

	“...Phillip, open your eyes, we’re home,” Michall ordered, a hint of laughter lacing his voice.
	“What?” he asked. He was confused, his mind groggy. He opened his eyes and had to squint against the glare of a very bright sun. “What’s going on?”
	“Oh, Phillip. I am sorry for not telling you sooner, but you were having such a grand time dying that I had no heart to stop you,” Ra-May stated and then joined Michall in his mirth.
	“What do you mean?” he demanded, standing quickly to stare them down...and stopped short.
	He felt wonderful. He realized that he could stand straight without pain. His vision was clear and his hearing was keen. He looked down at his hands, yelping upon seeing them free of wrinkles.
	Quickly looking to Ra-May for an explanation, “How? Why?” he stammered.
	Michall dropped a companionable arm over his shoulder and grinned. “I sure missed you, old man. Glad to have you back.”
	“Tis simple, Phillip. I could not allow you to suffer so, for so long, without there being some reward in the end. But you had to believe that you would never see Tilly again in order for the debt to be paid. You had to think that you had made the ultimate sacrifice. You did, and now it is over.”
	“But I feel young. Is that how I appear?” he asked quietly.
	“You are as you once were. You stand before us restored. Your old life is gone...your human side, dead. As reward for a duty well served, the magic has bestowed upon you your youth and a life span to match my own,” she proclaimed. “By the power of the Ancients, you are now one of us.”
	Michall leaned down, a ferocious smile lighting his face, “It’s good to have you back. No one here deems it proper to have a good jest at me.”
	“Well, I’ll have to remedy that,” he laughed. Feeling extremely lighthearted, he found that he couldn’t stop laughing. “I missed you, Michall. Oh,” he sighed as he stretched his arms skyward, “I have missed...”
	Before he could finish his lavish sentiments a familiar voice called out to him from across the courtyard. Anxious, he turned and there she was, running toward him, her long hair dancing freely upon the wind, her face filled with her elation.
	He bowed to Ra-May and then turned to Michall with a grin stretching wide across his face.
	Raising a youthful brow in Tilly’s direction, he stated, “If you will excuse me at least for a time, dear kin, I promise that when I return I shall make up for my lack of attention.”
	He faced Ra-May again, grew thoughtful and then shrugged, quickly pulling her into his embrace. “Thank you...for everything.”
	Michall waved him away, “Hurry up, Phillip...and do quit being so melodramatic. Tilly has waited a lifetime. I don’t think she’ll wait another.”
	“Nor shall I,” Phillip answered solemnly. “Nor shall I.” And ran down the path to join her...

	...and the veils that hid Ra-Jee pulled tight, securing them away from the eyes of man, keeping it safely steeped within the web of magic.
	Ar-Hur watched as the magic finished its weave, sighing when the pattern was complete...at last he knew true peace...at last he could rest.
	In the end, Ra-Jee had survived, and the Harmony once again graced the land.
	All was as it should have been...all was forgiven...