"Evil does not disappear with the killing of one man. It is a constant struggle. But it is a struggle we must always strive to win, or there is no point to life. Believe in the Rock. Believe in the Light. Believe in Us. We will prevail." – Queen Rhea in her first address to the newly forged kingdom of Cathacus.

Click here to see a MAP of the area (yes, it's my paint program again. BUT, I'm getting a new computer and these cool maps that Mre made me mat be available soon! Cool, eh?)

COMPLETE!!! May 27, 2002

Part One One: The Traveler's Cave Two: Leda Three: On the Water Four: Jock Steele Five: Dwarf Country Six: The Black Castle

Part Two Seven: Northlands Eight: PenFell Nine: Pretty Birdies Ten: Green Ice Eleven: The Dungeons Twelve: Meeting in the Fells Thirteen: Dying to Get Out

Part Three Fourteen: One After Another Fifteen: Gatesford Fork Sixteen: To the Bens

Part Four Seventeen: The Dark Elves Eighteen: Red Mountains Nineteen: Awakenings Twenty: The Bitter Tors Twenty-One: Imagine the Possibilities Twenty-Two: Light and the Rook Twenty-Three: Going Home Twenty-Four: Long Live the King Twenty-Five: The Call of Destiny Twenty-Six: Epilogue

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From Book One:

“Um, I have a question,” Ezra said, wrapping his cloak around him a little tighter. Josiah met his gaze, and raised an eyebrow. The thief grimaced.

“What exactly was that thing?” He looked around at the others, then back at the mage, “I considered myself a well-traveled man, mage, but that was, well, new. I always thought water sprites were a myth.”

Josiah frowned, “They are not myth, merely rare. Sprites, dryads, will-o-the-wisps, trolls, gremlins, harpies, and even elves and dwarves, the most common of the fay, have been rarely seen in the Kingdoms since the Empire died. Their existence is based entirely on blood magic, like the Mandate, but it is wild and weak without a strong source to tap into. While the Mandate reigned, it kept the fay strong, feeding them, allowing them to prey on humans with relative impunity. When Queen Rhea took the throne and the Mandate faded, they faded with it because they didn’t know how to survive on their own. Human elemental magic was now the stronger force, and mages were hired to rid the landscape of the more predatory fay. Those that were more independent moved to live up in the Northern Reaches, away from humans and the danger we represented. But, as the mandate returns, and they become more powerful…,” he shrugged.

“Is their return part of the darkness Hannah saw?” Vin asked.

Josiah nodded, “Not all of the fay are as predatory as that water sprite, but most are. They exist by stealing life from humans and animals, needing their blood and energy to survive. Dwarves and elves are more independent – they can survive by just eating animals, like any human. Fact is, they don’t much like their nastier kinfolk, considering them parasites, which is why we can get along with them. A sort of equilibrium has been reached between them and us. But the rest of the fay…” he shook his head. “JD was not the first to be attacked. Up until now, they’ve tended to avoid Four Corners for some reason, but more and more of my fellow mages were sending me letters about attacks near villages throughout the peninsula. Some of my oldest friends and best students are dead because of fights with the fay and there weren't many of us mages left to begin with.” He stopped and leaned back to look up at the sky. “Soon, they’ll be everywhere,” he sighed, closing his eyes.

“This just keeps getting better and better,” Vin mocked. “Now, besides Farron’s army, we gotta keep watch for wee folk with sharp teeth.”

Book Three: The Fay Wars

Chapter One: The Traveler's Cave

The children screaming. It echoed through the hills, bounced off the granite cliffs, shook the snow from the overhangs. It was a new sound, and ever the more piercing as a result.

Ezra, his horse fleeter of foot in the snow, got to the scene first, shouting hellfire as he descended on the bandits. They all turned to face him, their yellow eyes narrowing as they turned to face the unexpected new foe. But they hadn't much fear in them.

They were elves. White teeth, white skin and almost white hair matched the white cloaks they wore to blend them into the snow bound landscape of the Northern Reaches. But the dark red blood of the dwarves they had killed had stained their outfits, marking them as the killers they were.

Josiah stopped on the ridge just above the road, panting slightly with the exertion of racing in this high altitude. In his right hand he hefted his war axe, while his left held tight to the long cedar staff. His breath came out shakily as he viewed the scene below. He dismounted from the back of his rented horse, the beast stepping lightly away as the mage moved forward.

Ezra was on the ground in the middle of a knot of five elves, fighting in his unorthodox but highly effective manner. In the background, a merchant's wagon lay on its side, the oxen pulling it dead where they were still attached to the yoke. By the side of the wagon, three dwarves, two men and a woman, also lay dead, bleeding from arrow wounds and sword cuts. Ezra's own rented horse was standing well back, clearly unsure as to its place in the fight.

Two little dwarf children, a boy and a girl, cowered against the underside of the wagon, shaking with fear as they watched the battle in front of them.

None of the dead dwarves wore armor, and it was clear from their outfits that they'd merely been travelers, probably a family on their way to market. There were not supposed to be bandits up here, in part because very few men lived up here, so it was unlikely the dwarves had been prepared to defend themselves. The Reaches were supposed to be quiet, a peaceful place.

Not anymore.

Josiah lifted himself and started gathering the power of the four main elements, searching out the nodes of power and happily discovering all in ready supply. Such a thing was unusual, but he wasn't about to question it. Below, Ezra had killed two of the elves, but was beginning to tire against the other three. Just as one got in behind him, probably thinking to deliver the killing blow to Ezra's unprotected back, Josiah's staff flared to life with white light. With an unintelligible yell, he threw the elemental power of wind at all the three elves, lifting them up and throwing them harshly away from Ezra.

The Prince looked back at him and smiled in thanks.

Josiah strode down the hill, the staff still glowing white, his face dark with anger. The elves had been flung well over fifteen feet away, and they had to struggle to get back to their feet. Elemental magic always affected the fay far more effectively than it ever affected men.

Now they were afraid. Without looking back, they took off running away from the wagon and the two men.

"Cowards!" Ezra yelled. Josiah nodded, lowering his staff, the white light fading. The prince blew the air out of his cheeks, then turned to look at the children. At the same moment, the telltale whizz of an arrow made him jump sideways. Josiah turned as well, but he wasn't fast enough. The arrow pierced his right arm, and he dropped the axe with a hiss of pain.

"Josiah!" Ezra automatically moved in his friend's direction.

"Get down!" the mage yelled back, his anger back in full force. He slammed the staff in the ground, rocking the earth, the tip now blazing a dark brown. He hoped to ruin the archer's aim, wherever he was. Ezra stumbled sideways as the sudden shaking, not expecting the mage to be so quick. Josiah turned quickly in a circle, trying to determine the source of the arrows.

Though he heard it, like buzz of an insect right beside his ear, Ezra never saw the arrow that pierced the side of his head. He fell forwards, red blood unnaturally bright against the white ground, eyes closing against the blackness that blanketed them. The little ones screamed anew.

"No!" Josiah screamed. He'd seen the archer's hiding place when he shot the last arrow, and now the tip of the mage's staff mimicked the color of the blood as he sent all his fury at the elf in the form of flame. The elven archer's screams joined those of the children's as he was consumed.

Josiah didn't care, all he could see was Ezra's seemingly lifeless body....

Josiah woke with a start, his breath coming out in gasps. When he saw the stone roof of the cave overhead, he calmed down. At his side, Dakin, the boy dwarf, shifted in his sleep where he lay curled inside the mage's good arm, not liking the change in his pillow.

Hearing the older man's shaky breaths, Ezra looked over from where he was sitting playing cards with the other child, letting the little girl thrash him soundly. He no longer wore the bandage around his head, but Josiah still had his around his arm, and the older man still suffered the vestiges of his former fever in the form of nightmares.

They'd been trapped in this cave almost a week now, the blizzard beginning just hours after they'd rescued the children. Josiah had somehow managed to find this traveler's cave with the help of the children only a few miles north of the ambush site. Ezra had been out cold for most of that journey, and, with the blizzard, the need for haste had meant the mage hadn't even stopped to tend to his own wound. The thief had woken not long after being struck by the arrow, the tip just grazing his forehead, but he was in and out of consciousness for hours. Once they reached the cave though, it was Josiah who succumbed to fever as his arm got infected while Ezra took care of him.

"Has the snow stopped yet?" the mage asked.

"I don't know," the thief replied. "I haven't checked yet today." The little girl laid down a jack and he sighed theatrically as he lost some more of his cards in the game of War.

As she squealed with delight, he put his cards down and pushed himself off the floor to head to the entrance of the cave. There were two caverns, a larger one where their horses were kept, and the smaller one where the people had slept. They'd covered the front of the larger cavern with one of the hides Ezra had kept in his pack, and, dampened by all the snow and wind it had guarded against, it swept back heavily.

He immediately dropped it, completely blinded by the glare.  Blinking furiously, trying to give his eyes enough time to adjust to the brightness, he realized that he really didn't have to actually see clearly to know that it was the sun reflecting off the white that was causing his skull pain.

The scar that now ran down the right side of his temple didn't help either. It throbbed unmercifully at the abuse to his eyes, and Ezra suspected that it always would.  The arrow that had made it had been barbed enough to make the scar jagged as well.  At least it was close to the hairline - so long as he kept the front of his hair long, no one would ever need to see it.

"Yes," he said, returning.  "We can leave."

"Thank the Gods," Josiah said. "We're were almost finished with the dried meat, and the bread would break your teeth."

"Not too mention the smell," Ezra said, wrinkling his nose. There had been hay in the larger cavern, but it was old, and no one had bothered to clean out the dirtier hay.

Josiah gave him a small smile, "Well, we never lacked for water or heat."

"No," Ezra agreed, looking at the wood that was stockpiled at the back of the cave.  Traveler's caves such as this were common enough in the Northern Reaches, designed for those who might get stuck in a blizzard and need a place to hunker down, and stocked with plenty of wood, hay and usually containing a natural flue to let the smoke out.

"We should replace what we took," Josiah noted.

"Sure.  Then we need to find a way to get these children home."

Josiah shifted upwards and looked down at the little boy that was still curled against his side.  The little girl was watching Ezra.  Neither of them had spoken much since Ezra and Josiah had rescued them, but what they had said showed that they spoke the same tongue as the men.

Ezra returned to the little girl and knelt down in front of her.  Even standing at full height, she barely came up to his thighs.  The tallest dwarf would probably only be at Ezra's chest in height, but they were thick and strong fay people, and, of course, amazing miners.  They lived in the mountains, mostly underground, only coming out to trade with the elves and the men who lived up here.  Generally, no one ever bothered them.

At least, until now.

"Do you think you can lead us to your home, Shain?" Ezra asked, looking at the girl.  She stared at him with eyes as dark as pitch, and blinked slowly. All dwarves had dark, almost black, eyes.  When they had first hidden in this cave, both children had been fascinated by the men's eyes.  Josiah's were a royal blue, like the sky in the evening, and they thought was pretty neat.  Ezra's, though, were pale green, like ice in a high mountain cavern. The girl's first words had been to ask whether it meant he could see a prism of colors, the way green ice reflected the sun and created rainbows.  Josiah had chuckled, and Ezra had told her she would make a great poet someday. Her immediate response was that she was going to be a swordmaker, like her mother.

The statement had caused her to start crying.

Now though, she seemed ready to speak of home without it hurting too much. Slowly, she nodded.

"I think," she whispered, "I think so.  Dakin and I live north, beneath the Fell mountain.  My aunt and uncle live there, and cousin Jakin too.  If we go back to the road, I can get us back and they'd take us in."

"Back to the road," Josiah shook his head, and Dakin shifted in his sleep on his arm. "We're going to have to avoid those for now.  Maybe we can cut around and meet the road somewhere higher up, closer to Dwarf country."

"So long as the road goes in a straight line, and we don't fall into any hidden crevices, meet any impassable cliff walls, run into any more bandit elves or generally kill ourselves along the way, sure why not," Ezra sighed. "And it is going to take us much longer to cut cross country, since we'll most likely have to lead the horses along most of it." He stood up again, and Shain's black eyes followed him.  Soon her whole head was titled back so that she could stay focused on his face.

"You want another arrow to slit your forehead?" Josiah replied darkly.  Ezra glanced at him sharply, then lowered his gaze.

"No."

"And I don't want to get into any fights with this arm." He lifted the arm that wasn't around Dakin, showing off the white bandage that had once been part of one of Ezra's shirts.  Ezra grimaced.

"We'll just have to trust to luck then," he said, kneeling down again to gather up the cards.  Shain frowned.  She wanted to finish the game.  She held the cards in her hands close.

Ezra looked up at her when she refused to give them to him, the disappointment on her face obvious.  He offered a crooked smile.  "I'm sorry, sweet pea," he said softly, "I know War is not supposed to be over until the other side is completely wiped out.  But, you don't really want to wipe me out, now, do you?"

She shrugged, and her eyes took on the quality of obsidian, reflecting the man in front of her, "I thought that was the point?"

Ezra shook his head, "Normally, yes.  But how about letting me survive this time?  Out of pity for a foolish man?"

She gave him a shrewd look, then started to giggle.  Smiling back, he swooped up the cards she gave him.

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Chapter Two: Leda

Leda, the large capital of Danaeria, was a dark city at night.  No lamps shone from the windows, no fires lit the streets. If it weren't for the regularity of the shapes and the occasional spire and turret, a newcomer could easily mistake it for merely a jagged, black escarpment lit in silhouette by the white, full moon.

The only people out at night here had to have the eyes of an owl and the stealth of a cat.  Elves, thus, had an easier time of it than most.

They'd arrived not too long after the Change.  They owned the night now. The people were hidden inside.

Before that time, Danaeria was something completely different.  It was a city of brilliant science, of exceptional liquor, and, perhaps most distinctly, a city of unparalleled music.  Night used to find the windows brightly lit and the doorways open, the sounds of cellos competing with clarinets, trumpets fighting with guitars, pianos beating it out against drums, and the voices of people raised in all sorts of songs, arias and choruses.  Alcohol was a favorite sport, and the people knew how to keep the long winter as warm and inviting as the hottest summer of the southern cities.  Rhea had its long summer and its art, Tallus had its merchants and trade, Adenn had its literati, and Leda had its science, its liquor and its music.

None of that mattered after King Farron left on his campaign. That was when everything had changed. It was when the fay first came.

Ledans didn't know if they were the first to have these troubles, but it had made the rest of the Kingdoms' problems seem far away.  They knew of the wars of course, of how their King wanted to be emperor, but no one really wanted to talk about it.  For a city that used to boast itself on its logic and reasonableness, they quickly learned how to not see reality.

Especially when reality involved things that had once been fairy tales.

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Nathan rode in slowly, his mare picking her way through the thick foot of snow lining the cobbled streets. What had been pure and brilliant out on the plains leading up to the city was now dirty and yellowing. The old snow made the buildings seem darker somehow, less inviting. Of course, it also didn't help that there was no one around.

It felt like a ghost city. Nathan shuddered slightly. No wonder Ezra didn't want to come back here. There were plenty of footprints in the snow, wagon wheels had left grooves in places, but the makers of these things seemed invisible.

He couldn't help frowning as he looked around, drawing his furs closer around his head. Where was everyone? The war had never come here, and one would have thought the economy of the place would have thrived for its part in outfitting Farron's troops. Why did it instead look like it was dead?

The sun was on the verge of setting as he pulled in front of the inn, looking up at the sign with some distrust. He'd passed a large number of buildings that had the metal brace, but lacked the actual sign that should have hung form it. One had had half a sign, the rest looking as if it had been torn off. This one was the first he'd found with a whole sign, but there were no lights on inside, and the shutters were all tightly shut. He had considered going up to the castle to spend the night, but something in his gut told him that he should wait until morning. His gut had been pretty trustworthy so far, and he wasn't about to change his habits now.

The sign here proclaimed this inn as the Silver Swan. He tried to remember if Ezra had said anything about this place when he spoke of Leda, but then Nathan realized that Ezra had actually rarely spoken of his capital city. He spoke more of the outlying towns and of the country itself, but of Leda he seemed to have no stories.

From the looks of it, maybe with good reason.

Pulling his fur cloak tightly around himself, he banged hard on the door. The dirty snow at his feet began to soak into his boots, and he could feel his toes being to cramp with the cold. His fingers already stung, and his nose and ears were raw. Even with all the fur he had brought with him, it wasn't enough to stave off the freeze in this miserable place. He lowered his hand from the door and looked around at the windows to see if anyone would respond.

No one did.

Frowning, he reached up and banged again, this time adding his voice to the noise.

"Hello! Anyone here? Hello!"

Inside, something fell with a crash. Someone must be in there.

"Hello?" Nathan pressed his ear to the door.

He just made out the sound of someone shuffling to the door. A faint voice, almost a whisper, floated out.

"Who is there?"

"A traveler. I'm looking for a place to stay and to stable my horse. This is an inn, isn't it?"

The voice chuckled. "It was," it said. "Not anymore though. No one goes out no more, not at night anyways. It's almost night, isn't it? Is it night?"

Nathan arched an eyebrow, "What do you mean, is it night? You have windows; can't you see for yourself?"

"Windows are boarded, sir. Can't you tell? And door should be, except that we need to go out to buy food. Only at noon, though. We're never out except at noon. And only when it is sunny. When it's gray, like today, no one goes out. You shouldn't be out neither. You should go, sir. Find someplace to hide. There is things as walk at night. You should go." The voice faded, and Nathan could hear him slipping away from him.

"Go? Please sir, go where? If this is not an inn anymore, can you direct me to one that is?"

"Leda doesn't have inns anymore, sir. If I was you, I'd get out of the city." The voice was becoming more faint, as the man stepped further and further away.

"I can't. Listen, could I stay here? I could pay you, and well. If you would just open the door and look at me, you would see that. Please, I need to stay somewhere here. Please!"

The footsteps stopped, and a long silence reigned. Nathan clapped his gloved hands together and leaned back a little from the door.

After a moment, the footsteps returned.

"How do I know you're a man?"

Nathan stopped fidgeting, so surprised was he by the question.

"What?"

"You talk like a man, but what if you're not? What if you're a fay elf? I open this door, let you in, and you steal my breath so that I die. My daughter is sick. She needs me to take care of her. Do you see? How can I risk it?"

Nathan blinked, and shook his head. Elves? All the stories of elves were that they were good creatures that lived in the Northern Reaches. Was this man mad?

"Sir, I assure you, I am not an elf. I am a Cathacun traveler, here to find my friend who is missing. I can show you my money, if you like. I could slip a coin under the door."

"Money, money...gold, likely, right? That's no good. They always have gold, elves. No, no, that's no good."

"Um...wait, the fay don't like iron, right? Back up from the door." Reaching back, Nathan felt beneath his coat to the knives strapped on his back. Pulling one out, he knelt down and slid the naked blade under the door. "See that? That's iron. It's my knife. An elf couldn't touch that."

"It could have a handle."

"Oh for the love of...I am not a damned elf, innkeeper! I'm cold, hungry and angry, but I am not some ridiculous piece of your imagination come to haunt you! I'm just a big black man with an attitude that is getting uglier every minute I have to stand outside in this blasted frozen city of yours! Now let me in before I break this bloody awful door down!"

The voice on the other side started chuckling. Flushed with anger, Nathan raised up his fist, ready to do as he threatened. Just then, he realized he could hear the sound of deadbolts being released.

"Ain't no elf I've ever heard speak like that!" the innkeeper said, opening the door to look up at Nathan, still chuckling. The healer lowered his fist and shook his head, then he smiled. The innkeeper was a small man, perhaps about five and a half feet tall, with gray hair that stuck out from his head in unkempt clumps. His face was round and ornamented with a large, bulbous nose that looked like it was permanently red. Blue eyes sized up Nathan quickly, clearly impressed by the man's height.

"Nope, definitely not an elf," he said.

"Told you so," Nathan smiled more broadly now, beginning to like this man.

The innkeeper backed away to allow him entry, then shut the door firmly behind him. "You weren't lying, Catha, you really are big and black," he said as he slid in the bolts. "But you neglected to mention furry. Looks like you killed many animals to make that set of skins."

Nathan looked down at his wraps, and shrugged. "Your country is cold," he said simply.

"Hmm. Must be a good friend for a southern boy to come here in the winter, Catha."

"My name's Nathan, Nathan Jackson."

"Nathan," the innkeeper nodded. "Now, you have gold, yes?"

"Will two gold pieces cover it?"

"Oh, aye. At that. Money is somewhat pointless these days, though. No one has time to shop for anything but necessities, don't ya know. Most just barter." He was shuffling around has he talked, his soft voice cracking every so often. Nathan could tell the old man was sick, his voice roughened by a cough.

"Are you hungry, Catha?" the old man said, reaching down to pick up a cast iron frying pan he must have dropped earlier. It was probably his main weapon.

Nathan ignored the fact that the old man was still calling him by his nationality instead of his name. "Yes. I was hoping you might have something hot. Its been a while since I managed a fire."

"Stew's all I got. Don't like to light the oven fire no more. Too big. Draws too many unhappy things. Just a little stove fire's all we do now."

"Stew is perfect."

The old man nodded and disappeared through a door.

Shedding some of his gear, Nathan looked around at the large room. This was clearly a tavern, though dust and cobwebs had taken up residence. There were many chairs, some overturned, and multiple small tables. Some had cloth on them, marking them as gaming tables. They looked well used, though all had the same layer of dust. One still had a deck of cards resting on it. Nathan spread them out under his fingers, then flipped one over.

The ace of spades.

"Typical," the healer sighed and flipped the card back over. "I'm coming, Ezra. You just have to give some sign as to where."

"Ezra? Is that your friend's name?" The old man had shuffled back in and was placing a bowl on one of the tables. He placed a wooden spoon next to it. "Unusual. Only Ezra I ever knew was the Prince. Not his real name, mind you, that was Assizran, but everyone called him Ezra."

Nathan gave a small smile, "Yeah, me too."

The old man abruptly stopped his movements and stared up at Nathan with wide eyes. Then he quickly got back to what he was doing, looking as if he wished he had never asked.

"You're looking for the Prince, Catha?"

Nathan sat down in a chair and looked up at the innkeeper. "I take it is odd that I should be looking for him," he said, reaching for the spoon.

"Prince was banished many years ago. Not here no more."

"I know, but he came back when his father was killed." Nathan tilted his head, "Didn't he?"

The innkeeper shrugged, "You want a drink? I have some wine. Or water. We have lots of water."

"I bet," Nathan said, thinking of all the snow. "Tell me, did the Prince come back? He was supposed to return. Is he not here?"

"I'll get you some wine. Red wine. Goes with the stew." He started to shuffle away. Nathan grabbed his arm, and the man visibly flinched.

"You didn't answer my question."

The innkeeper shook, looking back at Nathan with pleading eyes. "Please. My daughter, she is so sick," he whispered.

Nathan frowned, not understanding the man's fear, then sighed. "All right, have it your way." He dug the spoon into the stew and stirred it around, annoyed again. The old man continued to watch him, no longer as anxious as before.

"Your horse," the innkeeper said suddenly, as if it were something new. "Where is your horse?"

"Outside, tethered to the post," Nathan said, not understanding the change in mood. "I'll move her to the stable later. Why?"

"No, no, move her now. Before it gets dark. Hurry. It's round back. Go get her, take her down the alley, and I'll lock her in the stable. It's bolted like the door, so I need to get to it through the root cellar." With this new anxiety, the old man shuffled quickly back to the front door and pulled back the bolts.

Nathan remained seated, then shook his head again. Getting up, he strode back through the door to the outside, cringing a little when he heard the door slam behind him and the bolts slide into place.

He grabbed his mare's reins, pulling her nose up out of the snow and whatever else she might have been eating down there, and dragged her down the alleyway on the side of the dark building. It was almost pitch black in the alley, as the buildings on both sides leaned over to block out the gray sky.

Something hissed.

Stopping, Nathan drew his blade, letting the sound of the metal clearing leather last a little longer than normal.

The hissing died down.

Keeping the blade out, Nathan proceeded forward his eyes adjusting to the dim surroundings. He made out trash and other filth, but nothing looked like it was moving.

"I am Nathan Jackson of Cathacus," he said quietly, "and I am in an extremely bad mood. If you want to discover what it feels like to have this blade sticking out of your gullet, I suggest you make yourself known. Otherwise, sod off."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something shift in the trash on his right. Reaching back with his left hand, he pulled a knife from the collection on his back.

"Well?" he asked.

"Don't hurt! Leaving!" the voice was soft, almost childlike, and Nathan was almost tempted to lower his guard. Then he saw the thing that appeared out of the snow.

The fay was about five feet tall and stick thin. Pure white hair topped skin almost albino in color, and yellow eyes blinked up at him. Pointed ears were visible inside the mane of hair, and white teeth smiled at him.

"Don't hurt. I'm harmless, see? Harmless?" The elf stressed the sibilants as if he had a lisp. Nathan could feel his guard lowering, though part of him screamed at himself not too. His hold on his rapier loosened, and his left hand let go of the knife to come down empty. The elf tilted its head, blinked, and stepped forward.

"Harmless, big one.... Completely harmless," the elf smiled wider and reached out a hand. Nathan watched curiously as yellow light began to glow at its fingers.

Yellow light. Like a healer's yellow light. Like Farron's yellow light. Blood magic.

The mare had bolted as soon as the elf had appeared. Nathan didn't even notice.

The elf was almost touching him now.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, water came sloshing down out of the sky, soaking the elf and causing it to break eye contact. Nathan, broken from the spell, instantly brought his weapons back up. The elf was screaming something unintelligible, the sound echoing like a cacophony of screams in the healer's ears. Seeing his opening, Nathan jumped back then lunged at the elf with the blade.

The elf was fast, but not fast enough. As soon as he saw Nathan move, he stepped back as well, but he hadn't gone far enough. The rapier stabbed the fay just below the heart.

The creature screamed and pulled itself backwards off the blade. Then it was gone, down the alley and around the corner, its hands pressed against where the metal had stung it.

Nathan was shaking, but not from the cold.

"Get inside, you idiot!" a voice called from above. Nathan looked up, his eyes wide. A woman about twenty five years of age was leaning out of one of the inn's windows, waving him back to the front with one hand. The other was wrapped around the chamber pot that she held close to her side.

Not questioning, he took off back for the front door. The innkeeper must have heard, because he was standing by the door, waiting. As soon as Nathan was inside, the innkeeper started piling up heavy things against it. Under his breath, the old man was muttering about stupid foreigners and bad luck.

Nathan watched for a moment, then joined in, helping the innkeeper to move a particularly heavy bench. When they were done, both leaned against the door.

"Did...did you have to hurt it?" the old man asked after a minute. "You could have just ran. Now they'll be looking for you, and looking here." He was shaking his head in despair. Nathan stared at him a moment. It had never occurred to him not to attack when he had had the chance.

"Thank you," the healer said finally, "for opening the door." He realized that man could have left him out there.

The innkeeper shrugged, "You don't know. You don't know."

"No, I don't." Nathan straightened up and walked to the fire. "What is happening here?"

"We're in mourning," a girl's voice whispered from the door to the back. Nathan looked behind him, to see the same young woman who had saved his life standing with a blanket wrapped around her.

"Mourning?" the healer repeated.

"Misha," the old innkeeper chastised, "what are you doing out of bed? You're not well enough."

"Hush, pappa, we have a guest," she waved him off with a hand and walked slowly towards Nathan. He got her a chair without thinking and positioned it near the fire. She smiled as she settled in to it.

"Thank you," she said.

"What did you mean by mourning?" Nathan asked, sitting across from her. In the background, the innkeeper hovered around them, wringing his hands every so often.

"Leda is dead," she explained, her voice husky with sickness. "It just doesn't know it yet."

______________________________________

Chapter Three: On The Water

Vin braced himself on the rail, breathing deeply as the salty air whipped past his face. The ship pitched and rolled, the waves harsher now that they had passed Cape Wolf. It marked the boundary between Danaeria and Cathacus, and already the cool sea air seemed to become more frigid. He'd been on boats before -- they're hard to avoid if one lives in Tallus, as he had when training as a soldier -- but he'd never been on a real four masted ship like this one. It had a crew of 300 and carried a private guard of 50. It was a very, very large ship.

He and JD hadn't actually had much choice of what ship to take. Word in Tallus, once they reached it, was that Leda's harbor was closed to ships. Only a few cargo ships were being allowed into the man-made bay, and even then they were ordered to anchor well out to sea at night, on the other side of the jetties protecting the bay.

Luckily, along with her many new supporters, Eloise had raised cash for her supplies. She had anticipated the problem, and had given them more than enough to pay for their passage on the only cargo ship sailing to Leda that winter. It was owned by a merchant collective determined to get their wares to their distributors in Leda. The ship had been delayed in leaving until late in the harvest season, as more and more goods had been added as they were cut, which meant it was arriving in the dead of winter.

And it meant the seas were very choppy.

"Oh God's above," JD staggered up to the rail, his face greener than the softest pastures of Brishnia. "I thought we were supposed to reach shore today."

"Tomorrow, kid. I'm sorry...I really thought you'd gain your sea legs eventually."

"Yeah, well..." JD blanched as the ship lifted up, balancing on a wave. His knuckles whitened as the moment of weightlessness came crashing down and the ship went with it. JD's knees buckled and he gripped the rail in both arms.

"Light, help me, I can't take another DAY of this torment! I'd rather face ten Farrons than spend another day on this accursed ship!" His eyes widened as he looked at the sky beyond the bow of the ship, "No, no, tell me the sky is clear out there. Not gray. No more storms. Please, Lords above, no more storms!" He buried his head in his arms.

"It's gray."

"Nooooo," the moan escaped the boys chapped lips involuntarily, and Vin considered patting the kid's hands. Then he thought how much he hated being touched when he was sick. He changed his mind and put his hands behind his back.

"Listen, there may be some of the captain's brandy left. Perhaps we can get you to pass out again."

"Passing out means waking up feeling even worse. I've tried that before, remember? And the water was still there, and with a hangover...Oh Light, it was EVERYWHERE." He groaned, the memory of being doubly sick still very vivid in his memory.

Vin chuckled, "I know, kid, but tomorrow we reach Leda. You can have a hangover on dry land."

JD opened his mouth to argue, then shut it. He had to think about that. Finally, he nodded.

"All right. I'll go see. But I warn you, if we don't reach Leda tomorrow..." he didn't finish the threat, just wagged a finger at the scout.

Vin smiled, amused, "Yeah, I know."

JD glared at him, clearly annoyed that the scout wasn't acting properly cowed. Then, with a snort, he stumbled away, heading towards the captain's cabin. Twice he slipped on the wet deck, and both times it elicited a string of curses no innocent young stable boy should know.

"Buck's influence is much too strong in that boy," Vin muttered, turning back to the sea.

He leaned against the rail again, watching the dark water break away from the ship's side in white capped waves. A particularly sharp burst of icy wind raked across the deck, and he pushed the sleeves of his leather coat over his fisted hands to keep them warm.

That was when he saw her.

Instantly, his shoulders tensed, his first thought that he must be going crazy. Did he just see...? But she had disappeared almost immediately. He raked a hand across his eyes, wondering if he'd been off shore for too long, then looked again. His gray eyes widened as she appeared again, popping out of the water about twenty feet from his position. She tilted her head, thick, long dark hair cascading off to the side, and waved.

Without really thinking, he brought his hand up and half-heartedly waved back.

She smiled, and then disappeared back under the waves again.

There was a woman in the water.

Vin stood up straight, his eyes glued on the sea in case she came back. When she didn't do so immediately, he turned and looked around him at the other sailors, to see if anyone else had seen her. The answer was clearly no. They were all absorbed in their tasks. Like JD, they had also seen the storm coming in, and were busy getting the ship and sails ready. The captain stood up on the poop deck, calling out occasional orders, which his mates repeated at various other places along the long deck. Vin turned back to the water.

She was back again, obviously matching the speed of the ship with ease. She waved again, this time rising a little higher out of the water.

She was naked.

Vin gripped the rail as she disappeared beneath the waves again.

"What in the Heavens am I seeing?" he whispered, his voice trembling as much from fear as from desire. His eyes roved the waves, looking, hoping, pleading that he would see her again. His nails started to dig into the wood, splintering it.

What was she doing out there? The water had to be freezing! Was she waving because she needed help? How was she keeping up with them? Why was she...he swallowed, trying to keep his mind off of what had been a very nice figure. Instead, he tried to focus on her face and hair. Brown hair. White face. That was about all he could see from this distance.

That...and the rest of her upper body.

Vin swallowed thickly.

He found himself incapable of looking away. Where was she?

JD walked out of the captain's room and turned to salute the man above. The old captain saluted back, and told him that he should get himself and his friend below before the weather changed.

"Could be anytime that it hits us, boy!" he said.

JD nodded and turned to look over at Vin. The kid stopped, dropping the brandy bottle.

"Hey! HEY!" He took off running, forgetting the deck was slippery.

Vin couldn't hear him. She was beckoning. What if she were drowning? He had to help! He had to get to her!

He was on the other side of the rail, looking down at the waves twenty feet below, his hands still gripping the wood behind his back. Fear gripped him. It was a long way down. Then he looked up and saw her watching him. She smiled again, and beckoned once more.

He smiled. His hands let go of the rail.

"Vin!" JD grabbed at the falling man's coat, just managing to catch it below the neck. The scout's weight nearly pulled JD over with him, but somehow the kid managed to catch the rail with his feet. "Vin!" He dug both hands into the leather jacket, just trying to hold on.

Vin started to fight, flailing around. She had disappeared again. All he had to do was slip out of the jacket, and he could be with her. He started undoing the buttons on the front, his fingers shaking with cold.

"Help me!" JD screamed, looking around. The captain was already running over, while behind him the first mate had thrown a rope over his shoulder. Looking back down, he realized Vin was trying to get out of the coat.

"Vin, what the hell are you doing!" he yelled, trying to pull the other man up before Vin could succeed in getting free.

"Let me alone!" Vin yelled, "I have to reach her!"

JD's eyes widened in confusion, and he pulled harder, trying to get the scout up and back over the rail. He could feel the coat slipping beneath his fingers, the worn leather sliding in his hands. Suddenly, the captain was there, reaching over and getting his hands under Vin's arms. The scout tried to fight him off.

"Don't be an ass, man!" the older man bellowed, "We're trying to help you!"

"Then let me go!" Vin cried, still fighting. The captain frowned, but didn't let go. If anything, he gripped tighter.

"I'm not letting anyone die off my ship today, soldier! Not even you!"

Vin stopped moving, "Die?" he repeated.

"Get the rope around him!" the captain bellowed to the mate, watching as the sailor quickly tied it off to the rail.

Vin started panicking now, trying to twist himself around so that he could grab hold of JD's arms. He didn't want to die! What the hell was he doing? His eyes blinked furiously against the spray from the water as he tried to remember what it was he was so desperate to reach. The image of the woman in the water began to fade as his thoughts became his own again.

JD risked letting go with one hand to take Vin's arm. With the added leverage, he pulled Vin higher, and the mate got the rope around the scout's waist. In a matter of moments, Vin was back on board, on his hands and knees on the deck, his body shaking.

The captain grabbed his shoulder, pushing Vin up so that he could see his face.

"What the hell were you thinking, boy! That water would have killed you in minutes! That is, if the fall hadn't gotten you first!" He knelt so that he was right in front of Vin, his aged brown eyes searching the scout's face. "What in the seven seas possessed you? You're not suicidal; I'd have known. At least, I think I would have known." The captain's brow furrowed deeply in puzzlement.

Vin just stared into those eyes, trying to find something he could hang onto.

"I thought I...saw...." he didn't finish, already forgetting what it was. A woman, wasn't it a woman?

"What did you see?"

"Someone...a person...in the water."

The captain blinked, his brow furrowing. "If you did, boy, she'd be a dead person. Nothing you could do."

"Dead," Vin shook his head. "No...." Then he frowned himself, and looked back at the captain. "How...how did you know it was a she? A woman?"

This time it was the captain who seemed nonplussed. Then he snorted, "Perhaps because it always is. A sea myth, boy. Mermaids. Sirens of the briny deep." He shrugged, "But, as I said, a myth."

"A myth," Vin nodded, "of course. Gotta love myths."

JD patted his back, and knelt down on his other side. "You think you saw a mermaid?"

Vin chuckled nervously, trying to recall just what he had seen. It seemed odd that the image now seemed so fleeting. After a moment, he looked up at the kid and nodded.

"Probably. Why not? These days, anything is possible."

"Humph," the captain stood up on Vin's other side. "Whatever it was, you're getting below and inside before you see another one, boy." He turned away from them and looked in the direction of shore, where Vin had been staring. After a moment, a wistful look came across his face. "Although...I suppose there are worse ways to go," he said softly.

"You know," JD said, holding out a hand to the scout, "I think this makes us even." Vin looked over at him curiously, and the kid smiled.

"We've both met water sprites, and we both lost."

Vin shut his eyes, more steady now. "Yeah...and we were both lucky we weren't alone."

"Yeah," JD nodded. He shook the hand in Vin's face, "Come on. There's a storm coming; we need to get inside."

"Aye, you do," the captain said abruptly. With a final nod to them, he began striding back to his deck and calling out orders to his paused men. His mate took the rope off of Vin, then followed.

"Well, tell you one thing," JD said, "when I die, there will be dirt under my feet. I have had ENOUGH of boats."

Vin laughed again, and let himself be helped back to his feet.

________________________________________

Chapter Four: Jock Steele

"What was his name again?" Buck shifted slightly in the saddle, the leather creaking slightly. Gray shook his head at a fly by his head, but otherwise didn't move. They were standing on the edge of the Thaem plateau, where the lake cascaded down in a long waterfall and the Thaem Pass road switch-backed down beside it. The view from this point was spectacular - you could see hundreds of miles, almost all the way across Danaeria to the sea beyond. Right now, most of it was white with the winter snow.

"Hmm? Who?" Chris had been looking slightly to the North, his eyes on the tips of the tall mountains of the Northern Reaches. At their highest point near Four Corners, the Mid Reaches only saw snow on their peaks in the winter. The Northern Reaches were enormous by comparison, and wore snow all year round. Some say that the Dajan peninsula was actually moving -- pushing into the unknown continent beyond the Northern Reaches -- and the land was buckling upwards as a result. It meant the mountains were growing bigger every year.

"The mage. So we can tell Josiah." Buck shifted again. It was a sign he wasn't happy.

"Oh, Ben Holmes."

"Right. Holmes." The cowboy said the name slowly, then he sighed. "Well, it's almost 400 miles to Leda from here, that's a little over a week's ride. Shall we get moving?" His body was tense. He wanted to leave this place.

Chris looked over at him, then turned his head towards the mountains again.

"I don't think they're in Leda."

"Not in...well, no, you're probably right. I mean, Josiah's letter wasn't clear about where he thought Ezra wanted to take him, but he was clear that it was somewhere north of the capital. Still, we don't know where, do we? That's a lot of land to cover, Chris. Someone in Leda will at least give us an idea."

"I think they're in the mountains."

Buck followed Chris's gaze. As he stared at them, he felt the connection telling him Ezra and Josiah were in trouble grow stronger.

"Okay...so they're in the mountains. That's still a lot of mountains. I mean, between the Fells, the Tors and the Bens, that's a few hundred miles, Chris."

Chris tilted his head, "Well, we know they were interested in the fay. We also know that Ezra was exiled up there when Farron first banished him. Perhaps if we head towards..." He paused, and frowned. "That's the problem, isn't it. We don't know where the fay live up there."

Buck sighed, "Well, do the elves or the dwarves have towns and villages like we do?"

Chris frowned, "I don't know."

Buck shrugged, "I guess we could go to Gatesford and ask."

Chris looked back at him, curious, "Where?"

Buck smiled, "You've never heard of it? I'm surprised. It's a town at the base of the mountains, almost directly south of Bitter Tor. From there you can go one of three ways -- northwest to PenFell, north to Bitter Tor, or northeast to Ben Seer. The people there trade with the dwarves and elves."

"They trade with them?"

"Sure, how else do you think we get dwarvish weapons, or elvish cloths?"

"I don't...I guess I never thought about it." Chris smiled, "Well, if Ezra and Josiah went into the mountains, makes sense they would have stopped there, right?"

"Yup. For supplies, if nothing else. That is, if it still exists. After what happened in Thaem..." Buck shook his head. "Either way, I'm getting out of this damn Pass. I'll see you down at the bottom." He kicked Grey, and the horse responded instantly. It had felt its rider's nervousness and fairly jumped at the chance to leave. In moments, the captain and his mount were swallowed up by the switchbacks.

Chris sat a moment longer, loathe to leave the peacefulness of this place. Still, he knew he had to catch up with his old friend. He was just about to instruct Solon to move, when a noise from his right startled him. Instantly, he had his short sword out. Swinging a leg over, he jumped off Solon's back and walked slowly towards the trees at the side of the road. Suddenly, he stabbed into the brush and disappeared.

A moment later, he backed out, a scornful smile on his face. His blade came out last, the cold iron pressed hard against the throat of the elf that was being forced to move with it. The small creature was sweating, his eyes focused on the blade at its throat. He had no doubts that the Paladin would use it to chop his head off if necessary.

"What do you want," Chris demanded coldly.

The elf's eyes swung up. They were brown, with a hint of yellow. His hair was also brown, though lighter in color and a touch greasy, and his skin was rough with too much time in the sun. He was also undeniably pudgy. There was a pack on his back and a piece of parchment in his right hand. His left held a quill.

"What? What? Can't a poor elf take a walk in the woods of Thaem without getting accosted? You call this civilized behavior? I did nothing to you, nothing! I was only...I was just...." he stopped, and laughed nervously as Chris pressed the blade deeper. "Okay, okay! I was eavesdropping, okay?"

"Why?"

"Why? Because...because you and your friend are unusual, okay? I wanted to know more about you."

Chris shook his head, "Again, why?" He pressed deeper. The elf was lifted up onto this toes, and he made a small strangling noise.

"Listen, could you...uh...could you perhaps not press that thing into my skin? Huh? Maybe? It's hard to talk when you've got metal pressing against your esophagus, especially iron. That hurts our kind, you know? I'm going to have a nasty red welt there as it is, and it's not going to go away quickly. I've seen what Poison Root does to your kind – well iron does that to us. It HURTS!"

Chris raised an eyebrow, surprised to hear an elf talk to him this way, but he complied. The blade stopped pressing the throat, but it remained hovering only a centimeter or so from where it was. The elf nodded.

"Thank you." When he didn't seem inclined to say anything else, Chris whacked his chest with the side of the sword. The elf jumped.

"Right, right, sorry, sorry. Why was I listening, right? Okay, here's the thing. I'm a bard." He smiled.

Chris blinked, "You're a...what?"

"A bard! Come on! I can tell by the way you act that you're not some lower class boob, someone who wouldn't know a parchment from a piece of bark." He waved the parchment in his hand, as if to emphasize his point. "My name is Steele, Jock Steele, and I'm searching for the greatest story ever written!" He stood up straight, sticking his chin out proudly. "And when I find it, I'm going to write and recite the story for all the world to hear -- men, elves and dwarves alike!" He smiled again at Chris, "I've been hanging out in Thaem hoping to see someone worth following, and I saw you! So, I lit out of town and waited for you here. My plan was to follow you, and write everything down that you do. You'll be famous!" He smiled again.

Chris's sword had dropped to his side, and he stared at the elf with total puzzlement. "I still don't understand. You're fay."

Steele frowned, "So? So is my mother; what's your point?"

"Your...mother? You have a mother?"

"Do I have a mother?" the elf look aghast. "How dare you? If it weren't for the fact that I know you're the story I've been waiting for, I would turn right around and stalk off in a proud but clearly perturbed fashion." He smiled again, "But I do want your story. So, listen, can I go with you to Gatesford? I know it very well. I was born under Ben...."

"Stop, stop!" Chris shook his head, "I still don't understand. How can you have a mother? I thought the fay were just manifestations of the Mandate, of poisoned blood magic?"

"Oh..." the elf's face registered understanding. "You mean the new fay. No, no, you're right there. They're not real. At least, not unless they exert a will of their own. See, that's where we, the old fay, come from. Some elf, a long, long time ago, made a choice. Free and true. And the elements blessed him with life. Then another elf made a choice. Then another, and another, and so on. Then they had families, and families, and more families. That's where I come from. I'm real...as real as you. Though nowhere near as tall. You're even tall for men. How tall are you? 6'1"? 6'2"?"

Chris ignored him, "Is what you say true of the dwarves too?"

"I think so. Why not. Though, they're older than us. And there are no new dwarves. So, maybe not. There are new elves though," Jock shuddered. "Yellow eyes, skinny as rakes, and white skin. Really, really white. Ick. Ever wonder why elvish silks are so brightly colored? Because we consider white unlucky. It's a bad color." He shook his head.

"And you say you came from a village of elves?"

"Sure. It's called Freedom. Under Ben Seer. There's also Willingston, Lambstown, Weaverston, and Seer. And that's just in Glen Seer. On the other side, in Glen Faire -- that's under Ben Faire of course -- there is Faire, Markston, Millerstown...."

"Okay, okay" Chris waved a hand. "I get the idea."

"If you're going that way, you'll need a guide! I can guide you!" The elf grinned.

Chris shook his head, "Ah, no. I don't think so. I think we'll take our chances."

"What? Why? That's idiotic! Wait," Jock frowned. "It's because I'm an elf, isn't it."

Chris smiled coldly and shrugged, "Yes."

"That's prejudice! Stupid! I thought you were better than that."

"Little man," Chris bent down to look at Steel in the eye, "It's not prejudice. It's caution. I don't trust you."

Jock opened his mouth to argue again, then stopped. He brightened all of a sudden, "Wait! How about if someone vouches for me? Huh? The mage in Thaem, old Ben, he knows me! We're friends. He..."

"...Is dead."

The elf's mouth fell open. He just stared at Chris for a moment, before asking in a very quiet voice, "What?"

Chris's brow furrowed, "You didn't know?"

"He was alive when I left. After I saw you and the captain arrive, and I saw what kind of men you were, I came out here to wait for you. I...I did wonder why you were so long...almost a week, I waited." His tone was quite, plaintive. Chris bowed his head.

"There was an attack. Gremlins and ogres. The mage sacrificed himself for the town. If it hadn't been for him, we'd all be dead. If you wait here much longer, you'll see more people traveling this way, to leave the Pass before some new horror comes out of the pages of legend." He shook his head, "So you'll understand why I'm not keen to trust one of your kind."

The elf's faced had paled, and Chris was surprised to see tears forming in his eyes. "Old Ben liked me," he sniffed. "Not many people like me. Oh Light, Poor Ben." He sat down with a whump on the ground and buried his face in his hands. "I don't like this new world," he muttered.

"None of us do, elf."

"JOCK!" the elf raged suddenly, causing Chris to actually back up a step. "My name is Jock! Damn it!" Tears flowed freely down his face now.

"Then I am sorry, Jock." Chris shook his head, "I was not aware of your affection for the mage."

"No, you weren't," the elf sniffed, looking away. He was looking northeast, towards the Northern Reaches. From this angle, Ben Seer was visible. It was the tallest mountain in the eastern part of the mountains, and looked like it had a hook on the top.

Chris sighed, turned, and started walking back to Solon. As he reached the horse, he patted its side then looked back at the elf. He was still sitting there, looking off at the view.

"Good luck, Jock." He said in parting, mounting. The elf nodded. Gently, Chris kneed Solon forward and the horse walked slowly after Buck and Grey down the Pass road.

Jock Steele watched them leave, then sniffed and stood up. He walked to the edge and watched as Chris descended until the paladin was hidden by the rocks. Then he looked up at the sky and closed his eyes.

And disappeared in a flash of yellow light.

________________________________

Chapter Five: Dwarf Country

"That's LoFell," Shain said, pointing to the mountain on their left, "and that's HiFell," she pointed to its taller twin next to it. "LeeFell is that black one over there, and PenFell is that one up ahead -- the big one with the top that looks like someone hacked the top off with an axe. My aunt lives beneath that one, in Kinnoch."

"Kinnoch?" Josiah repeated, flexing the fingers on his right hand inside the sling. It bothered him that it still felt numb, almost detached from the rest of his body. It didn't even hurt. "Is it a large village?"

"It's not a village," Shain replied, shaking her head. "It's a town."

"What's the difference?" Ezra mumbled, his tone having gotten progressively darker over the last day. They'd been walking for the past two days cross country, mostly leading the horses. The sides of the mountains were slick with ice and the snow hid the ditches, crevices and other pitfalls. Ezra, in the lead, had fallen twice today already, nearly taking his horse with him both times. Neither he nor Josiah bothered to ride anymore after several near escapes the first day; only the children rode now, on Josiah's horse.

"A village suggests we have houses," Shain shrugged. "We don't have houses."

"Oh?" Josiah glanced up at her.

"Nope. Almost everyone lives underground, though close to the surface, in caves. The Fells are all volcanoes, see. The earth bubbles up warm underneath. Even the farmers stay in the caves, except to till the fields in the warmer months. Of course, the warm months aren't very long." She shrugged.

"Does most of your food come from trade?"

Shain nodded. "That's why my parents are...I mean...were...weapons makers; they were traders. Dwarves don't fight amongst themselves so much, though everyone carries some kind of weapon. We trade the swords and stuff in Gatesford. Sometimes we even go all the way to the Bens, to trade with the elves. I've been there twice. Dakin's not been yet. That was where we were going this time...," she nudged her younger brother sitting in front of her on Josiah's mare. The boy shrugged. He'd not said more than yes or no since the ambush.

Shain sighed, "Anyway, once we pass LoFell completely, we'll be within a day's ride of home."

"And in what we call Dwarf Country," Josiah nodded. "It should be safe to go back to the road then."

Ezra sighed, and stopped. His head throbbed mercilessly, the bright glare of the snow making his eyesight permanently blurry. At least he hoped it was the glare. Unconsciously, he put a hand to his head, covering his eyes.

Josiah pulled up next to him, "You all right?" he asked quietly.

"What?"

"Are you all right?" Josiah repeated, a little more loudly.

Ezra lowered the hand, "Of course," he snapped angrily. "We need to keep moving." He blinked a few times, his eyes only slowly adjusting to the light. His vision seemed to be alternating between dim and too bright. Now everything appeared dim.

The mage's eyes narrowed, and he flexed his right hand again. It's odd behavior made him pay more attention to Ezra's problems with his eyes. The gray clouds overhead stopped the worst of the glare, but it seemed to him that the thief still seemed to be having trouble seeing.

"Your head is still bothering you, isn't it?"

Ezra glanced at him, then turned away, "I'm fine." He tugged hard on his horse's reins, causing the animal to jerk its head back in retaliation. The prince turned and glared at the beast, then started walking, the horse following unhappily behind.

Josiah' opened his mouth, then shut it. Then he shook his head, and opened his mouth again.

"Maybe we should go back to the road now."

"What?" Ezra said.

"The road. We could head down the mountain, try to find it now."

"Cross country was your idea, mage." Ezra continued to walk forward, his poor horse following unhappily behind.

"But, if your head...."

"Enough!" Ezra whirled around. "There's nothing we can do about it now! What's done is bloody well done, all right? Now keep up, old man!" He jerked the poor horse's head again, and again the horse jerked backwards. It made Ezra lose his balance, and he stumbled onto his knees into the snow.

Josiah let go his horse's reins and jogged forward a few steps. Upon reaching the thief, he held out his hand, but Ezra just turned a venomous stare on him. The mage took his hand back and bent over to look into the other man's face.

"What is wrong with you," Josiah hissed, keeping his voice low so the children wouldn't hear. "You've been acting like an ass all day."

Ezra continued to stare at him, then slowly got to his feet. He put his hand to his head again.

"I don't know," he whispered back. "I'm...I'm just tired."

"We're all tired," Josiah said. "This isn't like you."

Ezra smiled at that, and looked ahead at PenFell. "You know me so well?" he asked cheekily.

"Yup," Josiah replied, shaking his head. "Listen, why don't you take the children on your horse for a while. I'll lead."

"No," Ezra sighed. "With this terrain, I don't want to risk you falling and hurting that arm anymore. Besides, your magic stopped me from falling in that huge hole yesterday." Ezra grinned, "Unless something miraculous has happened, I don't think I could do the same for you."

Josiah gave him a wry smile. Ezra patted him on the shoulder, then, more gently, took his horse's reins and started moving forward.

Josiah turned and walked back to his mare, smiling up at the two children. Shain smiled back, while Dakin just stared straight ahead.

_______________________________

A couple of hours later, they were in LoFell's shadow. They could return to the road soon. Josiah was starting down at his right arm again, still trying to get them to respond more quickly.

Ezra was about fifteen yards ahead, gingerly feeling his way and looking for the telltale scars in the snow that would warn him of any dangers. Problem was, he felt like he was looking at a watercolor – everything just seemed to run together – and in the last fifteen minutes it had only been getting worse.

He stopped as he heard the sound of a water running somewhere nearby. Narrowing his eyes, he looked for the black holes in the snow which might better help him find the sound's source. Everything, though, just looked gray.

Light flashed at the edge of his vision, blinding him. He blinked a few times, pain lancing through his skull, and let go of his horse's reins. Then, suddenly, without warning, his world went black.

"Josiah," he screamed, instinctively covering his eyes. "I can't.... Something's...." He stumbled a step, then felt his ankle twist on a slick rock. Yelling, he fell backwards down the hillside, the freezing cold of the stream he'd fallen into washing all around him.

Josiah turned just in time to see Ezra cover his eyes, step sideways into the steep mountain stream in front of him, and fall. Then he was tumbling, completely out of control.

"Ezra!" The mage's left hand wrapped around the staff, willing for his air magic, but he couldn't find a source to tap into. "Damn it!" Throwing the staff down and leaving the horses and the terrified children behind, he leaped down the mountain, watching helplessly as Ezra crashed into a large boulder. The prince lay still, dripping wet with snow and icy water as it flowed around him.

The mage skidded to a halt next to him, grimacing at the reddened and scraped face. As he pulled Ezra up out of the water, he tried to understand how Ezra hadn't seen or heard the stream in front of him. It wasn't one of the larger streams they'd crossed -- he'd seen it from fifty feet away.

The prince groaned, and Josiah quickly pulled him close, trying to keep him warm. Ezra was shivering already. Looking back up the hillside, he yelled at Shain, calling for her to bring his staff.

The little girl quickly swung her leg over, then, offering a small prayer to make the snow soft, jumped off the tall mare and into the snow. Rolling a little, she smiled proudly as she staggered to her feet, then went to pick up the staff. As quickly as she could, she brought it to Josiah.

He was holding Ezra closely, listening to the hurt man's mumblings. Taking the staff, he closed his eyes and found fire. Unlike air, it came easily to him, despite the wet terrain, perhaps because they were so close to the volcanoes. The staff's tip glowed red, until heat poured off of it. Bringing it close, he used it to warm the man in his arms.

Finally, too tired to continue, he let the staff wink out. Ezra was mostly dry again, though he continued to shiver. Bruises were already forming along the side of his face, and Josiah was fairly certain even uglier ones were forming all down the prince's sides and back.

"Is he okay?" Shain asked, kneeling next to them. Josiah shook his head.

"No, I don't think so," Josiah replied quietly.

Ezra stirred, and slowly his eyes opened. He saw Josiah first, then looked over at Shain. She tried smiling at him, but he just frowned.

"Son? You all right?" the mage asked. Then, more loudly, "Did you break anything? Does it hurt anywhere?"

"What?" Ezra peered up at him, then blinked some more.

"Are you all right?" Shain repeated "You fell."

"I..I know I fell," Ezra said still frowning and taking in a shuddering breath. "Josiah...."

"Yes."

"Will you answer a question for me?"

"Of course."

"Are you whispering?"

Josiah frowned, and looked over at Shain. "No, neither of us are whispering."

"I didn't think so," Ezra looked up at the sky then, "And, is it still around noon?"

"Yes," the mage replied, his voice faltering slightly.

"So, the fact that the world appears to me in twilight is probably not a good thing." Ezra opened his eyes wider, as if he could see better if he could just get more light into them. "Josiah..." his voice shook, "I think I..." he stopped, not wanting to say out loud that he thought he might be losing both his sight and hearing.

Josiah bowed his head, touching it to Ezra's. The thief sighed and shut his eyes again. Shain sniffed, and turned to walk back to where Dakin was watching them with a broken expression.

_______________________________________

Chapter Six: The Black Castle

"Dry land!" JD's face was ecstatic as he stomped around on the docks. The cold early morning sun shone brightly down on top of him.

"Technically, this is a pier, JD. Not...."

"Oh, no, no," the kid replied, grinning back at him and waving a finger. "This thing does not sit on water. It's not shifting with the waves. We're attached to the dirt. No one is going to tell me to 'get down below' in order to avoid some nasty storm that delayed us by a whole day after you promised me otherwise. No, no, no. This is dry land." He jumped up a few times, listening to the wood creak slightly under foot. Longshoremen glanced at him with a smile as they moved around the two passengers, unloading and loading cargo. JD raised his arms up and shut his eyes.

"I swear by the Gods, by the Light, and by the Center Rock, I am never getting on a boat again!"

Vin chuckled and rubbed at the back of his neck with a gloved hand. Then he looked around, checking out the docks of Leda. Dark and quiet, but not dead. Men moved quickly around them, much faster than he'd ever seen the docks work in Tallus. It was pretty impressive.

"So, where's Ezra's castle?" JD said, putting his hand to shield his eyes from the bright sun. The land rose gently up from the bay, and there, at the highest point and probably sitting on a motte, was the Black Castle. The kid frowned.

He'd always been told that Castle Leda was nicknamed the Black Castle, just as Castle Tallus was red, Castle Rhea white and Adenn Castle gray. Still, it was a bit of a surprise to see that the battlements were indeed black. The stone was very dark, a bleak granite, and there weren't even any banners of streamers flying from the turrets. But there was something even more unusual....

"Is it glinting?" he asked Vin. "That is, it looks almost likes its glittering in places."

"Obsidian," the ship's captain answered for the scout. He'd come up behind them, and placed old callused hands on each man's shoulders. "They worked it into the stonework along the top, and used jagged pieces of it as a form of defense on the battlements."

"What is it with Ezra and obsidian," Vin muttered, a slight smile on his face.

"But you'll also see lots of color around the base," the captain continued. "When it was added, and whenever it is being repaired, the people press broken bits of china and colored glass into the drying clay. It's a way of recycling broken dishes, I guess. Not sure when the tradition started, but, as a result, you'll see all sorts of colors along the bottom. And, during the summer months, at least when I was a lad, the old king – not Farron, mind you, but his father, King Perrin – used to hang bright tapestries and banners from the battlements. The black stone seemed to make their colors even more vibrant." He smiled wistfully, then patted both shoulders. "Well, good luck finding your friends, boys."

"Thank you captain," Vin said, offering him his hand. "Safe journey home."

"Aye. We'll be here all day, though, should you wish to come with us another leg. We're planning on sailing north to Storrs first, see if there is anything there from the Reaches, but then we'll be sailing home. You're welcome to return with us."

"Oh no," JD grinned, "I think we'll be just fine where the ground doesn't sway."

The captain chuckled, "Right. Well, then, safe journey to you as well." He shook Vin's hand, then JD's. With a final casual salute, he headed towards the harbor master's house.

"Well, let's go check out the castle," Vin said. "If anyone's seen Ezra, it'll be them."

___________________________________

The castle's insides weren't much brighter than the outside, though candles had been placed in almost every possible niche. The arrow slit windows didn't help much, and the chill in the air from the winter weather made it seem even draftier than usual. Walls where tapestries should hang seemed bare, as if someone had purposefully made the halls even darker and colder.

Vin kept his head straight, watching the movements of the guards escorting them to the Great Hall. Though JD was looking around at everything and anything, almost as if he were on holiday, Vin couldn't shake the feeling that they were being escorted almost like prisoners.

Two liverymen wearing a pattern Vin hadn't seen before – it wasn't the royal livery -- stood by the two huge oaken doors that would lead into the Great Hall. Upon a single nod from the lead guard escorting them, the heavy doors were slowly and silently swung open.

"Geesh," JD whispered, his eyes wide as he took in the huge room. "And I thought Tallus was pretty. Was Rhea like this?"

Vin shook his head, "I didn't really look around, kid. I was too busy trying not to get my head cut off."

But JD was right, even if he had looked around, he didn't think even Rhea's castle could compare with the majesty of this hall. It easily made up for the rest of the dark castle, perhaps on purpose, and it was all due to the windows.

About halfway up the walls, the stone disappeared, replaced by enormous stained glass windows that reached all the way to the ceiling. The roof was held up by a series of carefully balanced arches that separated each window, and it was brightly painted to offset the darkness of the stone. Light poured into the room, cascading off the walls in prisms of color that, when the sun was a little higher, would absolutely fill the entire room with light. At both ends, Rose windows gracefully let even more light through, adding to the whole.

"Have you ever seen windows that big?" JD whispered, awed.

"No," Vin finally drew his eyes away, aware that they were nearing the throne.

A man with a stocky build sat on the gilt chair, going over some papers with another man. He had a flat face and a broad nose, and, from the way he sat, it was clear he was also quite tall. To Vin's eyes, the man looked more like a soldier or a fighter than a lord. The other man, on the other hand, was slight of build and older. He stopped talking as Vin and JD got closer, and stood up straight. The man on the throne sighed, and peered out at the intruders.

"And you are?" he asked, irritation clear in his voice.

"Gentleman Vincenzio Tanner of Tilluria, my lord, advisor to her highness, the Princess Eloise, and Gentleman JD Dunne of Four Corners," one of the liveried men escorting them announced. Vin glanced at him askance, amused by the formality, then looked back at the lord.

"Eloise, eh?" the man on the throne sighed and scratched at his head. He wore a simple circlet around his dun brown hair, silver and a lesser version that Ezra's crown. "I had heard rumblings that she hoped to regain her title despite being...adopted. Have you come to enlist my support?" He leaned back, his fingers tapping on the arm.

"No, my lord," Vin said, bowing. "We came seeking the Prince Assizran. We are friends, and we hoped that you might now where he have headed after stopping here."

"Ezra?" the man shook his head, "I'm sorry, gentlemen. The Black Prince was exiled many years ago. We actually thought he was dead. Why would you think he was here?"

Vin schooled his expression not to react to this statement, unfortunately JD was not as practiced.

"What?" the kid's mouth fell open, then just as quickly he frowned. "My lord, he was here. We received a letter from him not more than a couple of months ago, sent from here. He was here."

The lord smiled thinly, staring hard at JD, then at Vin. "I'm afraid there must have been some error. The Prince has not been here, at least not in the castle, nor would we know what to do with him if he did. Despite learning of our King's death, I am not so sure we would necessarily welcome the Prince home to take his place. We haven't had a king for a long time, gentlemen, and I'm not sure we want one. The Council rules here now, and, as their Speaker, I'm not sure this kingdom needs a monarch any more."

JD snorted, opening his mouth to argue, but Vin nudged him hard before he could.

"Our apologies, my lord," Vin bowed again, "I'm afraid we are somewhat confused – we do not know who you are."

"Ah," the lord stood. "Then it is I who am remiss. I am Earl Warren, lord of Wainsford, and Speaker of the Danaerian Council. I was appointed steward by our former king, to act in his stead while he campaigned to restore the ancient empire. With his death, I have acted as steward and regent. However, those titles may disappear should the current motion in the Parliament be passed."

"Motion?"

"To end the monarchy. In its stead would be a government ruled by a small cabinet of Lords, namely the already existing Council. We were formally the king's councilors, but with his death...." He waved a hand at the man standing to his left, who was now holding the pile of papers, and sighed dramatically

"To end the monarchy," JD shook his head. "Are you serious?"

"As I said, young gentleman, we have not had a king for a long time. As it stands, my fellow lords and I rather like having power." He smiled again, not even slightly ashamed at the admission. Vin frowned.

"And you think Danaeria is better off without a king. To be ruled by a handful of Lords?"

The Earl shrugged, "Does it matter? Especially when there is no king."

Vin had no rejoinder for that, he just shook his head. His own experience came mainly from Tillurian history. The kingdom had thrived under Selene's ancestors, blessed by the magic that tied the four kingdoms together. He also knew that Brishnia's government rested on a constitutional monarchy, a Parliament elected by the people to advise the King, and that had worked too. But a splintered kingdom ruled by a handful of lords, without a unifying force?

They may as well be warlords. They acted for themselves, not their people.

The Earl sighed when neither JD nor Vin spoke again. "Well, gentlemen, I'm sorry not to have been more help. If you find Ezra, tell him not to come home. The motion is before Parliament's spring session in a month." He gestured at the skinny man to his right, who handed him back the papers in his hand.

Vin was still frowning, but he offered a sketchy bow. JD didn't bother. He just looked genuinely pissed. Turning, they followed the guards out.

The Earl released a deep breath as the heavy doors shut, and he looked up at the other man.

"Chancellor, could you give me a moment?"

"Of course, my lord," the tall man bowed and, gathering the papers, slipped out of the room through a side door. Earl Warren sat up a bit straighter on the throne and continued to look straight ahead.

"Well? What do you think?"

The curtains to the right of the throne rustled, and a slim figure in white slipped out. He came to a stop on Earl's right, placing a finely boned hand on the back of the throne.

"If they want to find Ezra, and they succeed, they may get in the way," the newcomer hissed. "But they also have something else about them...something that marks them as very dangerous men."

The Earl turned to his right, glancing at the elf. Unlike the ones that plagued the city, this fay was darker in color. Brown flecks darkened his eyes, and his hair was blond as opposed to almost white. Still, he looked enough like the dread creatures to give the Earl the shivers whenever he got too close. For that reason, he shifted so that he leant on the left arm of the throne.

"Then, I assume, you want me to kill them?" he said, picking at the fabric.

"Yes. As soon as humanly possible."

There was enough derision in the statement, "humanly possible," to make the Earl snarl. But he quickly composed himself and nodded.

"As you wish, Lord...." He waved him back, and Earl Warren stood up. Walking casually to the door, he opened it up to see the chancellor quickly back away. Closing it behind him, he smiled at the thin man. The chancellor did not smile back.

"Did you hear?" Earl asked.

"I did, my lord. What do you wish me to do."

"Stop them at the front gate, and escort them to the dungeons." Stepping a little closer, he lowered his voice, the wicked smile on his face growing. "But don't kill them just yet. Our elven associate seems afraid of them, for some reason. If keeping them alive gives me even the slightest edge over that fay bastard...." he shook his head, and backed up again.

The Chancellor nodded, "I will see to it, my lord."

The Earl smiled, and watched as the Chancellor called out to someone to signal the guards at the gate. Then the smile fell as he looked back towards the door that led to the Great Hall. He knew the elf was waiting for him inside. He couldn't wait for the day when he'd be able to kill the evil thing.

___________________________________________

Nathan was sitting, waiting, in the Harbor Master's house, reading through some old maps. He'd been told that a ship from Tilluria was expected soon, and he wanted to speak to the Captain. In fact, he'd been waiting since the day before yesterday, and was beginning to get not only extremely bored, but worried that the ship may never come.

The harbormaster himself was not much help. He didn't survey the docks, never left his little house. Like the rest of Leda, he hid indoors for fear of the fay. When he was awake, he just watched for signals from the lighthouses and from the dockmaster. Except for the Tillurian ship, no one was going to brave the winter seas anyway, so its not as if he really had anything to watch for.

For example, right now, the harbormaster wasn't watching for anything. He was snoring very loudly in his chair.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Nathan jumped, and the harbormaster fell completely out of his chair. The loud banging on the door continued as someone rattled the latch, trying to get in. The harbormaster glanced towards the cracks beneath the windows to make sure it was still day.

"Who is it?" he yelled, his voice scratchy from sleep.

"Open the bleeding door, Silace!" a loud voice answered. "It's McDonough! Open this door, you lazy git!"

The harbormaster grinned and looked at Nathan, "It's here! The Tillurian ship's come in."

"Thank God!" Nathan grinned. Finally!

Silace jogged to the door and, pulling back the bolts, quickly swung the low slung door open. An old captain stood on the other side, itching at his face and peering into the dark house.

"Why the hell have you got it bolted, old man. Didn't you see us come in? Or were you watching the harbor through the inside of your eyelids again."

"It's good to see you, David," the harbormaster greeted. "we've been waiting on you two days now."

"Yeah, we hit some squalls rounding the cape, and then another in the bay," the Captain agreed. "But who is 'we'?" He looked over at Nathan, who was watching them with a pleased smile on his face.

"His name's Nathan Jackson. He's a Cathacun," Silace replied. "And he wants to book passage -- if, that is, you're still planning on heading up to Storrs."

"We are, though I may not have much room. Depends on whether these two others come back with us," the captain shrugged. "They're nice sorts, though. Probably let you bunk on the floor."

"Two others?" Nathan's smile grew. Of course, it would be the fastest way to get here from Tilluria. If they'd felt the same worry as him, which they probably had....

"Couple of young soldiers, come to look for some friends." The captain nodded.

"I don't suppose they're names were Tanner and Dunne?" Nathan asked. His grin was bearing on huge now.

The captain offered him an arched eyebrow, "Now isn't that a coincidence. Were you expecting them or someut? You're not one of the friends they're supposed to find, are you?"

"No, but I was expecting them!" Nathan laughed, "It's just pure luck that I met them here rather than further along. Where are they? Are they still at the docks?"

"No, they've gone up to the castle. They think someone there might...." He stopped. Nathan's smile had fallen immediately, and he looked at the harbormaster.

"Go on, you might catch them," Silace said. "Maybe they didn't go straight up."

"What? What did I say?" Captain McDonough was truly confused now. "Is there something the matter up at...."

But Nathan was already out the door and running up the cobblestone street that would lead him to the castle. He skidded a few times on the snow, but otherwise was out of sight in moments. Silace looked back at the captain and shook his head. Then he motioned for him to shut the door. Once the captain did, he made him sit down.

"What's happening here, Silace. I came as much for news as for goods. Why is Leda cut off?" the captain leaned forward, arms resting on his knees, and stared his old friend deep in the eyes. Silace looked away.

"Do you know who one of the people is that they're looking for?" the harbormaster asked quietly.

The captain's face darkened, "They didn't tell me out loud, but I overheard them mention Prince Assizran. I assume he returned here to reclaim his birthright once his father was gone. Why?"

Silace shook his head. "A lot has changed here, David. Earl Warren controls this city now, with his henchmen, Lord Richter and Duke Ashford. When the Prince returned, they welcomed him, as did we all, though the times being what they are, I'm not sure we expressed it very well. Then they sent him away again, eliciting from him and his friend, a southern mage, a promise to find a way to get rid of the fay that have plagued us since Farron left all those years ago. After that, word was passed around from the castle that the city was to never speak of the Prince again, to never say he was here, on pain of imprisonment or death. They said it was because they didn't want the fay to know why he left." Silace shook his head, "but the real reason was because they don't expect the Prince to come back."

_______________________________________

Nathan skidded, literally, to a stop within sight of the Black Castle's main gates. Nothing was visible, and he slapped a fist into his hand. He turned a few times, hoping that maybe he had missed his friends.

It still being fairly early, no one had opened their doors or windows yet, but he did spot one of the Earl's guards coming out of the small door hidden in the castle gate. Shrinking back into the shadows, he watched as the guard hunkered deep inside his cloak and jog across the street to the bakers. After some banging, he got the baker to open the door.

Nathan came out of the shadows and jogged quickly to the bakery as soon as the guard was inside the small shop. Nathan quickly slipped in after him, startling both men. Nathan held up a hand before either could speak.

"Please, I just want to know something."

The guard frowned, and looked at the Baker, who had made himself busy by wrapping up a warm cinnamon roll for the guard.

"Did two men just go inside, to go see the Earl? A Tillurian and a younger man from Four Corners."

The guard looked at him, studied the rich fur cloak, the strength in the Cathacun's stance, and the honesty of his face. Then he sighed, and looked back at the Baker.

"Ned here knows I am not one of the Earl's men," the guard said quietly, "so I will tell you. Yes, they went in. But, as they were seeking the Prince," he looked back at Nathan, "I doubt they will come out again."

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Continue to Part Two

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