THE RUNAWAY(1/6)
The Magician - Book Two
An X-Files Fantasy by
Jennifer Lyon (jennyann@ix.netcom.com) and
Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com)

Disclaimer: The X-Files and the characters of Fox Mulder, Dana Scully,
A.D. Skinner, and Agt. Henderson belong to Chris Carter, FOX Network,
and Ten Thirteen Productions. The Realm and all of the other characters
are solely our own invention, as is the rest of this story.

Author's Note: This story is a sequel to our previous story, "The
Magician," and constitutes Book Two of a trilogy. We owe a
huge <THANK YOU> to Debbie Hewett for editing everything for us.
Without her help this story would be full of mistakes!!!! And to all
our friends who listened to our complaints as we struggled to finish
this story. One final note: these stories are something of a departure
from standard X-Files fan-fiction, at their heart, they are true
fantasy, a slightly deeper trip into the 'realm' of make-believe. This
story does take place mostly in our world, but it is framed by a much
larger reality. Sit back, relax, suspend your disbelief, and let us
tell you a tale. Enjoy!

There is a map of the Realm available on the archive.

Prologue

His face was closed and sullen. "No! I don't WANT to!"
"Andalor, act your age," Reinald said impatiently. "You are the
Prince, soon to be the King. You have certain duties, responsibilities
to the Realm. You know that, you've known it all your life. Why are
you acting this way?" The Mage regarded the boy with a mixture of
concern, exasperation and affection.
The Prince had grown from a little child into a handsome young
man, seemingly overnight. His hair was still light, but his violet
eyes had darkened to a startling purple. His face had lost the
roundness of childhood and was developing the lean planes of an adult.
After being small for his age his whole life, he had suddenly sprouted
up in the last year and was now the same height as the Mage. A full
fifteen summers in age, he was nearing the time of his coronation and
Reinald had been working him hard. There was so much he needed to know
- how to conduct the numerous rituals of the Realm, the ancient
languages, the complicated etiquette and protocols, the history and the
politics of the noble houses - the list went on and on. Reinald knew
he had been driving the boy relentlessly, but felt the pressure of time
upon them. Recently, Andalor had become increasingly mulish and
uncooperative, questioning the need for his lessons, questioning even
his desire to become King. Reinald sometimes felt like he was trying
to reason with a stranger rather than the child he had loved for so
many years.
"I'm tired of the responsibility and the duty! I've lived with
them all my life, and I've had enough! I want to be normal, I want -
oh, you wouldn't understand!" The boy threw himself into the armchair
by the hearth and stared into the fire. A little past sunset now, the
chamber was growing dark, and the reflection of the flames flickered on
the walls and on the faces of the man and boy.
Reinald sighed and sat in the other chair. "I want to
understand, Andalor. What is it you want?"
Andalor looked at Reinald and saw that the Mage was serious. His
face became a little more animated. "Well, the Professor was telling
me of his world, and it's just as Mage Mulder said. I didn't know
whether to believe Mulder, it all sounded so fantastic, but the
Professor is telling me the same things."
"What sort of things?" asked Reinald, suspiciously.
Andalor lit up with excitement and wonder. He rose, and paced
around the room as he talked. "In Mulder and the Professor's world,
boys my age listen to small boxes that have music in them. And they
learn to drive carts that don't need horses - can you imagine? And
there are great metal..." words failed him and he gestured wildly with
his arms ..."things... that fly through the air with people inside
them, faster than anything can ever move in our world! And the young
have all sorts of time to themselves to do as they like." Andalor came
to a stop and looked Reinald directly in the eyes. "What do I want? I
want to see those metal things flying through the air. I want to have
time to do as I want. I want to see the world that Mulder and the
Professor came from."
"Andalor, I wish that were possible, but it's not. Did you know
that their world has no magic? No healers? No beings such as trolls
or gargoyles or elves? And that if they did have such beings, they
would probably hunt them down?" Reinald shook his head. "Their world
is theirs, and this is yours. Besides, it isn't possible to travel to
their world."
The boy's expression changed in a heartbeat from one of longing
and excitement, to one of stubborn defiance. "It IS possible, I KNOW
it is! Mulder and Scully went through the Vortex twice, and so did
Tarnor. Even the Professor went through it, and he's old. If they can
do it, why can't I?" Andalor glared at Reinald accusingly and his
voice became louder, harsher. "I might as well be a prisoner here.
Even Uncle Drellor has more freedom than I do."
"It's too dangerous, Andalor," Reinald said with finality.
"Those trips through the Vortex could have cost them their lives. I
won't let you risk your life on a childish whim. Your place is here,
and your responsibility is readying yourself to be a good King. Now -
the head of the House of Dordinal after the Herastus the Infirm
was...?"
"NO MORE! I don't WANT to be King! I want to be left alone!"
The furious boy ran from the chamber, slamming the heavy wooden door
behind him with a crash that reverberated down the stone hallways.
Reinald closed his eyes, slumped in his chair and sighed deeply.
Why was this happening? What had happened to the sweet, cooperative,
compliant child he had always known? He rose stiffly and began to put
away the books and the parchment. Maybe he had been working the boy
too hard. Maybe Andalor just needed a little time to reconsider.
He'll come to his senses - he has to, he has no choice.
Andalor had run directly for the stables and had leapt upon the
first horse he came to, not even waiting for the stableboys to saddle
it. He galloped across the fields in the twilight until the heat of
his anger abated, then rode at a slower pace to the secluded pool and
waterfall that had remained his favorite place for solitude since
childhood. He dismounted and let his horse graze nearby. Scrambling
down the embankment, the boy made his way to the end of a rocky
promontory and sat down. For a while he aimlessly skipped flat pebbles
across the surface of the pool, sending ripples across the reflections
of the two moons of his world. Tiring of that, he climbed over the
rocks and up the embankment again to the tall trees which encircled the
pool. He stretched out under one which was quite close to the falls
and thought about the fantastic world he would probably never see.
His primary recreation, ever since the Professor had arrived in
the Realm, had been listening to the old scientist's tales. Andalor
still remembered Mulder and Scully, the amazing people who had appeared
long ago in the Realm's darkest hour. Although his eidetic memory
would never let him forget them, his recollections of them were touched
by the understanding and the impressions of a small boy. He remembered
them as strong and courageous and kind. He remembered the uniqueness
of their powerful auras. The woman had been beautiful and very nice to
him, but he had been particularly close to Mulder, the only person he
ever knew who was like him, who remembered everything. In spite of the
hours of training and preparation for the upcoming battle with the
creatures of the Dark Realm, Mulder always seemed to have time for the
boy. And not to teach him some new facet of politics or ritual, but
rather to talk with him about his strange world, how to deal with the
gift that they shared - conversations about things that mattered to
Andalor a whole lot more than the politics of the ridiculous noble
houses.
Andalor frowned and shifted his position. He had taken Mulder's
departure very hard. After the couple left, there followed a lonely
time for the boy. Most of the adults were busy with rebuilding the
areas devastated by the Dark Realm invasion. When Reinald did have
time for him, it was to teach him more about Kingship. Andalor had
almost despaired of ever having fun and excitement in his life again,
when suddenly, the Professor had appeared.
A breathless messenger from the troll village of Heshgar bustled
into Fairwoods Keep one day. He gasped out the news that a bedraggled
human stranger had stumbled into his village, speaking a tongue no one
could understand. The guards, on hearing the troll's story, sent for
Reinald. The next morning, Reinald and Andalor travelled to Heshgar to
investigate this strange appearance, reminding them as it did of
another such appearance not so long before. When they arrived at the
village, they had no trouble spotting the tall gaunt man instantly in
the crowd of short, stocky trolls. On a hunch, Reinald addressed him
haltingly in the outlandish language he had picked up from Mulder,
introducing himself and the boy. The man had smiled broadly. To
Reinald's and Andalor's delight, the man not only responded in that
tongue, but also gave them greetings from their friends Mulder and
Scully.
Professor Neumann had now been in their world a very long time,
much longer than Scully and Mulder had stayed. Andalor looked forward
to the few minutes out of every day that he would steal from lessons or
affairs of state to sit at the Professor's side to hear his stories.
When the Professor had first come to live at the castle, much of their
time together was spent in language lessons - Andalor to perfect the
English that Mulder had taught him, and the Professor to learn the
sing-song language of the Realm. Time not spent in language study was
devoted to trying to satisfy Neumann's apparently inexhaustible
curiosity about the magical world he now inhabited. Lately however, it
had been the boy who had the burning desire to know all there was about
the Professor's world.
Andalor sat up and leaned forward, clasping his knees. The
Realm, a source of infinite wonder to the Professor, was for him a dull
place of duty and drudgery. But Mulder's world! He would give
anything to see it, if only for a short time. He was sick to death of
hearing about his duty to the Realm. He had been hearing about it all
his life. Thanks to his eidetic memory, he couldn't forget it, even if
Reinald didn't constantly and unnecessarily remind him. Andalor
scowled and sighed.
And then, an idea came to him and he stiffened. Maybe there WAS
a way - if he had the courage. One day he had accidentally come upon
the Professor and Reinald in a seldomly frequented part of the castle
near the battlements. Maybe it was just the fact that the pair
obviously wanted to keep their activities a secret, but something made
Andalor stop before entering the room. Peeking through the space
between the door and the jamb, he saw strange metal boxes and tubes and
large jars of bubbling liquid with wires sticking out of them. A
large table over which the two men were bent was covered with
parchments filled from top to bottom with strange writing and small
drawings. Cauldrons hung over the fire in the hearth, emitting a smell
that was even worse than Corvay's potions. Although learning nothing
that day, the boy made a point of checking the activities in the r
oom several times a week. For a long time he was puzzled about what
the two were trying to accomplish, since none of their experiments
appeared to result in anything. Then one day, the scientist and Mage
were plainly tense and nervous about what they were about to do.
Looking on in wonder, Andalor saw a small statue of a bird get drawn
through - something - and disappear.
A vortex, that's what it had been! He had never seen the Vortex,
he was not allowed that close to the battle site when he had been
younger, but he remembered Reinald's and Mulder's planning to create
such an entity. But this was a smaller, controllable vortex, not the
huge maelstrom that had doomed the Realm's monstrous enemies. Andalor
tracked their experiments carefully, noting the increasing success that
the pair were having, in sending, and then finally retrieving,
inanimate objects through the small vortexes that they created in their
workroom.
Soon, they would be ready for larger objects, living beings.
When that time came, Andalor would be ready.

End Prologue

Chapter One Part A

The alley was dark and cold, smelling of stale urine and rancid
garbage. His hand clamped tightly around the gun, Special Agent Fox
Mulder slid along the dingy brick wall, eyes darting from shadow to
shadow. A gust of wind twisted the bottom of his raincoat around his
legs and played with the fringe of dark bangs covering his forehead. He
halted, bringing the muzzle of the gun to bear at a sudden metallic
clatter a few feet away.
"MEEEOOOWWW!" The loud screech of a cat sounded to his left,
causing Mulder to lower his gun and draw in a sharp breath of relief.
His nose crinkled in disgust as he regretted the depth of that swallow
of the pungent air, a frown thinning his usually generous mouth. Step
by careful step, he moved down the alley, lifting his feet like a
dancer, trying to avoid both unnecessary noise and the worst of the
trash lining the alley floor.
Finally, he pulled up short in front of a small, wooden door
wedged into the brick of the building, covered with peeling yellow
paint and the remnants of a business sign. Only the letters
"Ab.....R...M...R ..s" were visible, and those only partially.
Pivoting to face the doorway, he shot quick glances to his right and to
his left, assuring himself he was alone. One more glance upwards at the
barred, broken windows, and then he was ready.
//Scully?\\ His brow crinkled in concentration as he spoke in
barely a whisper.
//Mulder.\\ The reply was as loud in his head as his own
thoughts, clear and vivid, carrying with it the scent of her perfume
and the flash of the sea-tinged blue of her eyes. Seizing hold of the
mental contact, he sent his response in rapid-fire images.
//In position here, are you ready?\\
//Yes,\\ The answer came back, tense and certain. He nodded at
thin air, then backed up slowly across the alley, keeping his eyes
pinned onto the door facing him.
//On the count of three....One...\\ Their mental voices twined
on the count. //Two....Three!\\
Mulder broke into sudden movement, racing towards the door, coat
flapping, hands at his side. Step, step, step...leap and kick. His left
foot slammed into the door with a thud, connecting with the aged wood a
couple inches above the door handle. It creaked, swayed, then gave way,
falling inward into pitch black darkness. Mulder rocked forward onto
that left foot, using his right to propel himself forward.
//I'm in.\\ He sent tersely, receiving only an image of dark
hallway from his partner's occupied mind. Then, bracing himself, he
pulled a flashlight from his pocket and aimed the thin beam of light
ahead of him with one hand, the gun held firmly by the other.
Shadows twisted along the edges of the pencil-sized beam of
light, resolving into the recognizable shapes of rusted metal counters
and blackened sinks, abandoned refrigerators and ovens, some still
wavering upright, others laying on their sides, doors hanging open. He
stepped over one, then spun at the sound of movement behind him.
Another quick scurrying slither caused him to turn around again, but he
wasn't fast enough to catch the shape.
"Who's there?" he called out, his voice unnaturally loud in the
silence.
No answer.
Then he heard another rustle behind him, and this time he was
ready. He spun the flashlight around, only to find himself face-to-face
with one of the biggest rodents he had ever seen. Somehow it seemed
inappropriate to call this huge, ponderous thing a rat. In the gleam of
his flashlight, its eyes were bright red and its distended belly filled
the space between its legs.
Mulder let out a groan of disgust and stepped away slowly, having
no intention of getting into an argument with it. The last thing he
needed was tetanus shots, antibiotic shots, and any other kind of shots
his partner thought might be necessary. Hell, she'd probably make up a
couple just to be sure. Mulder hated needles.
The rat watched him move away with unblinking composure, then
turned and disappeared into the shadows with shocking speed. Mulder
swallowed and fixed his eyes on the doorway ahead of him. Their suspect
was in here somewhere, Mulder was certain of it; holed up like a rat in
his nest, right at home with the rest of the local wild-life. Of
course, it had been nearly impossible to convince anyone else of that
fact.
Actually, it wasn't even legitimately his and Scully's case.
Sure, he'd been asked to do the psych profile, as he so often was on
cases that were sitting at a stand-still. However, though The
Pittsburgh Rapist had been easily eluding his pursuers for months, the
Agent in charge of the case had sent the request unwillingly, under the
direct order of his Bureau chief. The ambitious agent deeply resented
what he saw as interference by the FBI's resident embarrassment, and
had been openly hostile from the beginning. Mulder's carefully prepared
profile had been received and discarded, leaving the monster free to
continue his assaults, while Mulder and Scully were shunted off onto
the most boring examples of useless leg-work.
However, Mulder was an expert at ignoring being ignored. Waving
off Scully's protests, he had begun his own investigation, drawing on
his ability to see through the eyes of his quarry. And his partner had
come through for him, as she always did. Not that this had been
difficult, she had been far more angered by their treatment than he
had, and she was just as determined as he was to put the monster behind
bars - or into a six-foot hole in the ground. Sometimes it was hard not
to prefer the second resolution, especially after seeing the latest
victim in her hospital bed.
Mulder's body tensed as he rounded another corner, peering
intently into the darkness. The bastard was here, Mulder could *feel*
him, almost as strongly as he could feel the presence of his partner,
working her way across the floor above him.
//Scully?\\ he called out silently, reaching instinctively for
the reassurance of her presence. //Nothing so far.\\
//Nothing here either,\\ she replied. //I'm proceeding towards
the back, then up to the next floor.\\
He sent a wave of approval down the mind-link. //I'm moving
towards the front, then down to the basement. Be careful.\\
//You too,\\ came her response.
- - - - -

Mulder paused as he faced the door to the basement. It stood
partially ajar, the old wood splintered and stained, streaks of the
natural brown showing beneath the peeling fragments of once-white
paint. Taking a deep breath, he nudged it further open with his foot,
then angled himself into the space sideways. He held his gun hand held
close to his chest, the flashlight extended outward, lighting the
narrow staircase that wound down into the belly of the building.
His vision was acutely focused on each step downwards, each creak
of the steps under his weight sounding like thunder in the dark. One
small portion of his awareness was still with his partner, the vision
of a long empty hallway catching at the corner of his eyes, the smells
of decay from above and below mixing in his mind.
One more step downward, then another, then...
//NNNNOOO! Mulder!\\ Her cry struck his mind, and he stumbled
against the concrete wall, her pain lancing into his temples. He
blinked, then saw through her eyes, staring up into the crazed face of
their quarry.
//Scully!!!!\\ he screamed. Staggering against the wall, his
feet chasing purchase on the unsteady wood, he raced back up the
stairs. Through the mind-link, he could feel her wariness, the eerie
combination of fear and adrenaline, fury and determination, as she
fought for her feet, turning to face her adversary in a natural
fighter's crouch.
For Mulder, it was like looking at a double-exposed photograph,
the staircase and half-ajar door above him wavering on top of the image
of the insanely-smiling, drug-widened face of the Rapist. A flash of
light from Scully's flashlight caught on the knife in the human
monster's hand as he wove it up and down, right to left in an unsteady
pattern.
Scully's eyes, and thus her partner's as well, followed each
slicing motion of that blade, even as her hand inched across the floor
beside her, feeling for the gun that had bounced out of her hand when
she fell.
The Rapist leapt closer to her sweeping out with the knife, and
she abandoned the weapon, twisting to the side and beyond, backing up
against the far wall. Her adversary moved more slowly, never losing the
grin, with the air of one willing to wait for the victory.
As he crept closer to her, she weaved on her toes, never once
letting her eyes leave the knife blade as it cut through the air.
Nothing distracted her from it, until nearly two floors below, Mulder
stumbled on the stairs and fell forward, striking his chin on the edge
of a step.
His pain echoed in her mind, and her attention wavered just for
an instant - an instant that was just enough time for the Rapist to
strike.
Scully's cry of pain shook Mulder, and he dropped the flashlight,
ignoring the clatter as it tumbled downwards. Reaching out with his
hands, one still clutching his gun awkwardly, he clambered up the
stairs, crawling like a child who hasn't yet learned to walk.
Scully clasped her wounded arm against her side and refocused on
the creature facing her. He was barely recognizable as human, eyes
glaring in the dim light, hair a ragged tangle around a broken-featured
face, streaked with grime. A look of triumph contorted the smile into a
grimace of hate, and the knife-blade was bright with the crimson stain
of her blood.
Cold fury seized her, and she forgot the pain of her wound,
bending her knees into a ready crouch, her hands spread out in front of
her. Ready and waiting.
Below, Mulder was in a near panic as he finally reached the top
of the stairs and struggled to his feet. Leaning against the door for
support, he took a deep breath, then gasped it out, seeing the Rapist
begin another attack through his partner's steady eyes.
//No!\\ he screamed, reaching inside himself for every last
ounce of strength. Focusing that energy into a single blast of power,
he aimed it outwards through the mind-link.
//Mulder...NO!\\ Her voice shouted in his head as she felt the
power flood through her and outward, turning night to day, a bolt of
burning blue light hitting the Rapist and knocking him up off his feet.
Scully's eyes widened as her assailant was tossed up into the air on
the blue stream, the knife clanking to the floor, his scream cut-off in
mid-voice as he slammed into the ceiling with a thud, then collapsed to
the floor in a broken heap.
The surge of energy broke as quickly as it had become, leaving
her to sink to her knees on the ragged carpet, overcome with a wave of
dizziness and nausea. Even as her stomach coughed up the remnants of
her dinner, she tried to reach for her partner's mind, only to find a
blank emptiness at the end of their link.
- - - - -

She found him laying in a heap at the top of the basement stairs,
his legs hanging out over the top step, his hips supporting the door as
it swung unevenly on its rusted hinges. His head lay in the crook of
one outflung arm, the other arm bent awkwardly against his chest.
"Mulder!" she cried out, falling to her knees beside him. He
didn't stir, even when she lifted up his head to draw him into her
embrace. Supporting the back of his neck with one hand, she tenderly
swept back the dark locks of hair off his temples. Unconscious, his
features were at rest, the generous lips slightly parted, the usually
piercing eyes shuttered and closed, thick black eyelashes fluttering
across the pale skin below his eyes.
//Mulder!\\ She called to him, fiercely, her mind-voice
demanding, urgent, yet lilted into a heart-felt plea. //Please...wake
up!\\
No answer, and the clear blue of her eyes grew moist. But she
could feel his heart beat, see his chest rise and fall as he took each
breath. That knowledge gave her strength, and fighting her own
weariness, she closed her eyes and began to concentrate. Focusing a
talent long-disused, she poured all of herself into him, gifting him
with her life-energy drop by precious drop, until she drooped down over
him, almost too exhausted to draw air into her lungs.
He stirred in her arms, eyes fluttering open to catch a glimpse
of her face resting above his, creamy freckled skin framed by a halo
of copper-colored hair. //Dana...\\ The thought of her name was merely
a whisper in his mind, but it was enough.
//Yesss...\\ she returned, sliding down to the floor beside him.
Where he found the strength to do it, he didn't know, but reaching out
to clasp her against him was as automatic as the pumping of blood in
his veins.
Neither would ever be quite sure how long they remained in a
huddle on the floor of the abandoned building, time devolving into an
echo of each breath. The lassitude held them prisoner for a long while,
wrapped in each other's arms, seemingly drawing on the earth itself to
slowly rebuild their lost strength.
Until, finally, Scully pulled herself up to a sitting position
beside Mulder, tossing the tangle of auburn hair out of her eyes. He
watched her move with barely alert eyes, the normally green-tinged
brown deepened to pitch-black.
They looked at each other for the space of a heartbeat, then the
turmoil of emotion broke through her exhaustion. //MULDER!!\\
He winced, then grimaced at the pain the motion caused. //I...\\
This time she spoke aloud. "I could have handled it. You know
better than to..."
"I know that." She glared at him, but he met her gaze with
sincerity. "I do," he insisted. "But I had to try to help. I HAD to."
"You could have killed yourself. As it is, you drained both of us
to nearly exhaustion. What if it hadn't worked? You promised not to use
the magic unless there was no other choice."
"I didn't think there was. I saw him coming at you with the
knife. What was I supposed to do?"
"Let ME handle it," she scolded him. "I am experienced with
hand-to-hand combat and know full-well how to defend myself against a
knife. I'm better at it than you and probably anyone else in the
Bureau. I knew what I was doing."
"Maybe," he agreed. "But things can go wrong, and I couldn't
take the chance. I couldn't bear to lose you, I couldn't." His throat
tightened as his voice threatened to break. He covered the emotion by
rubbing at his eyes for a moment, they were wide and limpid as he
turned them back on her face. "Scully, I respect your abilities, and
trust you completely, but I just...reacted." He pushed up to full
sitting position, and studied her face with anxiety, sensing the
turmoil within.
She finally nodded; not trusting herself to speak, she reached
out to stroke his cheek. She knew he respected her, she also knew that
he would always try to protect her. That was a natural part of his love
for her, and of his fear of losing her. He had lost far too many people
he cared for, and the pain of the losses would not easily heal.
He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, even as he dropped
the remnants of the shields around his mind. She accepted the gift and
returned it, letting the contact between them widen into total
communion.
Floating in the balm of their love, neither noticed the footsteps
approaching until the shadow fell through the faint glow of Mulder's
flashlight and across their entwined eyes. Mulder reacted first,
grabbing Scully by the shoulders in an effort to place himself between
her and the sudden danger. But once awakened, she moved like lightning,
bracing one hand against him, she whipped the other one outward,
fingers outstretched towards the staggering figure.
The Rapist jerked, a gurgle escaping from his twisted lips, as he
stumbled backwards, the knife still clasped in his hand. He collapsed
to the floor with a dull thud, flesh striking hard against the thin
carpet. Mulder scrambled over to his body, warily snatching away the
bloody knife from his still-convulsing fingers before turning his eyes
on the engraved knife-hilt buried in the Rapist's chest.
A slow chuckle rose in Mulder's throat as he turned surprised,
yet admiring eyes on his partner. She shrugged as she rose out of her
fighter's crouch. //Something Aldara taught me. Always keep an extra
knife somewhere. In this case...\\ She drew her arm up to expose the
sheath strapped to her forearm. //...Up my sleeve.\\
- - - - -

Standing in front of the Assistant's Director's desk always made
Fox Mulder feel like a schoolboy called to the Principals' office.
Scully stood beside him exhibiting her usual poise, cool and collected
while he found himself shuffling his feet and wriggling under the
weight of Skinner's glare.
"Agent Mulder, do you enjoy making enemies in the Bureau?"
Skinner asked, peering out over the top of his thin-wire glasses at the
fidgety agent.
"No, sir." Mulder shook his head. //Well, maybe sometimes...\\
Scully threw him a sharp glance. //Behave yourself.\\
"Sir," Scully interposed. "We were requested to assist with this
case. Agent Mulder profiled the Rapist, as per that request, then we
simply followed up on the results."
Skinner turned his marine-sergeant's glare on her. "According to
Agent Grinman's report, you were assigned to interview the clients at
the latest victim's beauty salon, were you not?" Scully shifted on her
feet. "Yes, sir, but..."
"But you disobeyed orders, as usual. Isn't that right, Agent
Mulder?" Skinner interrupted.
"My profile was correct," Mulder insisted, his temper rising.
"Grinman stone-walled us from the beginning. First we're asked to take
time out of our own work to help, and then our efforts are completely
ignored. Grinman didn't even read it!" Hazel eyes blazed as Mulder
stood his ground, drawing up to his full height.
Skinner was hardly bowed by having to lean back to look up into
the tall agent's face. "There are proper avenues through which to press
your complaint. And perhaps, if you learned how to work with your
fellow agents, instead of shooting off on your own, such situations
would not arise."
"You mean, if I didn't solve their cases for them, they'd like me
better." Mulder responded angrily. "If that means letting idiots like
Grinman stumble over their own feet while a monster is out there raping
and disfiguring innocent women, then no thanks. I can do without being
'liked.'"
That was a little hard to argue with, though Skinner was hardly
going to admit it. Bottom-line, Mulder always managed to make things
difficult. How could such a brilliant man, a gifted psychologist, be so
blind when it came to inter-office politics? It wouldn't take much
effort on his part to try to get along, but Mulder seemed to bend over
backwards to make things even worse. And Skinner set himself to telling
him so, in detail.
Mulder set his teeth and let his boss' words fly over his head.
OK, so admittedly he had a tendency to do things his own way. But he
was right! Childish as it might be, he wasn't going to play nice to
ambitious, brown-nosing fools who couldn't find their own gun if it
wasn't strapped on....
//Look who's talking.\\ Scully's mind-voice broke into his
thoughts. //How many weapons have you lost in the last year?\\
//Ha ha. Very funny. Those weren't my fault.\\ He protested.
//I'd like to see Grinman in a fight with a pair of soul-eaters. Or
with Tooms. Or with... \\
//I get the point. But Skinner is right, too. You really should
try a little harder to get along. We could need back-up someday, you
know. So it wouldn't hurt to avoid angering every member of the
Bureau.\\
//Every member of the Bureau isn't angry at me,\\ he argued.
//Just the stupid ones.\\
//Mulder...\\ Scully thought with some exasperation, but their
silent conversation was interrupted by the sudden fall of silence in
the room. Skinner was stonily eyeing them both.
"Did either of you hear a word I just said?" he asked when their
eyes focused in on him.
"Of course, sir," Mulder replied. "You said..." He proceeded to
quote Skinner's speech word for word, until the A.D. waved at him to
shut up. Taking a deep breath, Skinner counted to ten silently, then
took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair, changing the
subject.
"Agent Scully, perhaps you can explain to me how The Pittsburgh
Rapist, one Alden Drakes, ended up dead with an antique knife in his
chest?"
"Yes, sir." She replied, tensing up slightly. Carefully, she
repeated the story she and Mulder had worked out, the one she knew
Skinner had already read in their report. "The knife was a gift from a
friend. I was planning to get it appraised, so I had it in my pocket.
However, events overtook Agent Mulder and myself. I lost my gun when
Drakes knocked me down on the second floor, so when he came at Mulder
and myself later, it was the only weapon at hand. I know Mulder was
reaching for his gun, but Drakes was coming at us too fast. Knowing
that our lives were at serious risk, I determined that the use of force
was required, and threw the knife."
"Ah, huh," Skinner was noncommittal. "Killing a suspect with a
knife is hardly typical Bureau procedure. Drake's family is shouting
entrapment and the media are having a field-day with it."
"Drakes was a dangerous psycho who was attacking Agent Scully and
myself with a six-inch kitchen knife. What were we supposed to do, lay
still and let him carve us up like he did nearly a dozen women in the
last three months?" Mulder challenged.
"No, of course not." Skinner replaced his glasses on his nose
and sat up straight in his chair. "However, there will have to be a
proper OPR inquiry into the matter. Until it is settled, I would
suggest that you both take some vacation time."
"What?" Mulder took a quick step forward. "No way. This case
already took too much time away from our ongoing X-Files
investigations."
"Your present investigations can wait, Agent Mulder." Skinner
turned a couple pages on his desk until he found the information he
wanted. "According to Personnel, neither of you have taken a real
vacation in close to a year - and I am deliberately excluding time
spent recovering from injuries taken in the line of duty - of which
there have been far too many."
"Sir, that information is misleading," Scully started, then
paused, exchanging glances with Mulder. There was no way they could
explain about their time in the Realm without sounding like they had
REALLY gone around the bend.
"How so?" Skinner pursued.
"Unh...," Scully stammered. "We took some long weekends,"
Mulder came to her rescue.
"Long weekends..." Skinner's tone was deeply skeptical. Then
with a wave of his hand, he dismissed the question. "Doesn't matter. AT
LEAST one full week's vacation, preferably two, for BOTH of you,
starting tomorrow."
Mulder's jaw tightened defiantly, but before he could speak,
Scully kicked him mentally. //Not now, Mulder.\\ He frowned, but
swallowed his argument - just barely.
"Is that all, sir?" Scully asked, keeping her expression as calm
as possible.
"Yes, for now. Don't forget the FBI Banquet tonight. You will
both be attending." Skinner expressed that as a statement, causing
both agents to feel their hearts sink. Deciding retreat was the best
solution for the mome
nt, Scully tapped Mulder on the arm, urging him from the room as
quickly as possible. He was quite willing to go, and they had to hold
themselves from running to the door.
-----------------------
end Chpt 1 Part A
------------------------

Chapter One Part B

"Hey, Scully - I know! Why don't you invite Frohicke? He'd LOVE
to go with you!" Mulder smirked at his partner as she threw him a
burning look of disgust. They had both forgotten the annual FBI banquet
until their session in Skinner's office that morning, thus finding
themselves faced with a sudden dilemma. Skinner had made it clear that
he expected them both to attend. Since, they had worked hard to keep
their private relationship a secret, attending together was hardly
feasible. But with the party that very night, finding other dates had
become a difficult proposition. Scully sighed, then looked up at her
partner seriously.
"Well, it IS a possibility," she teased blandly. Mulder's grin
broke instantly into a frown.
Scully laughed. "I'm not THAT desperate." She kept well-shielded
the thought that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. Frohicke was
reasonably harmless... Well, then again, maybe not.
Mulder leaped up out of his chair and began to prowl their small
office, dodging file cabinets and the corners of the desks with
practiced ease. "This is hopeless. We're never going to find dates at
such short notice. I say we just bag it. Tell Skinner we had paperwork
to do, or something." Mulder's face lit up. "He'll buy that. In fact,
I'd rather actually DO the paperwork. What do you think?"
Scully shook her head. "No way. He said we had to go. I could do
without another session in Skinner's office. Anyway, I'm sure you can
find someone to put up with your company for a few hours without having
to pay them for the privilege. I'm certainly not going to sit around
here feeling sorry for myself." She rose to her feet and picked up her
purse.
"Where are you going?" Mulder asked anxiously.
"To find a date. I'd suggest you do the same." And then she was
gone.
- - - - -

The big banquet hall was filled with men in dark suits, dark
islands floating in a sea of color. The women's dresses shimmered and
flowed around them in various shades of red and blue, green and gold,
purple and white. Scully self-consciously tugged at the hemline of her
simple, knee-length sea-green dress, then turned to give her blind date
a small smile.
He grinned down at her, a big wide smile on a big wide face. He
wasn't that much taller than her, but he was built like a brick. Solid,
with massive arms and shoulders, legs like the trunk of a tree. He made
her feel tiny, not in the way that Mulder did with his lanky height,
but as though she was as light as a feather next to a giant oak tree.
And to her surprise, he seemed to have a personality to match, quiet,
good-natured, as much at ease in a room full of strangers as he might
be in his own home.
Taking his proffered arm, Scully took a deep breath and managed
to relax as they headed into the crowd. Her only concern now was
Mulder, she hadn't heard from him since she had left the office that
noon.
- - - - -

Mulder nodded politely at a pair of agents, wishing yet again
that he was anywhere else but where he was. Beside him, her hand
clutched possessively on his arm, was Special Agent Diana Henderson,
the FBI's leading expert on handwriting analysis. Mulder had wandered
the halls of the Bureau for a while after Scully had left, until he
literally knocked over Henderson outside the forensics lab. Falling
naturally into the flirtatious banter they usually indulged in over
evidence samples, he seized the opportunity to ask her to the banquet -
not really expecting her to say yes. But she had glowed in response,
her round face lighting up with pleasure as she agreed, making his
heart sink under a sense of guilty relief.
Edging his way through the busy crowd, Mulder wryly returned the
glowing smile she gave him, then cast his eyes out over the sea of
heads, looking for a familiar flash of red. He hadn't had a chance to
talk to Scully in hours, and though he could have reached out for her
through their life-bond, he had been struck by a sudden case of the
nerves. The silence on the other end of the mind-link hurt more than he
could ever have realized.
- - - - -

Stifling a yawn, Scully gave yet another polite smile to her
date, then picked up her fork and shoved the peas around her plate. She
knew it wasn't nice of her to feel this way, but she was bored out of
her skull. It wasn't that Douglas was unpleasant or even stupid, he was
just dull. Well, not really dull, just... Not Mulder. Stabbing at a
couple of the annoying round vegetables, she admitted to herself that
that was the problem. You'd think that after being in each other's
pocket close to 24 hours a day for months, that a small break from each
other wouldn't be a problem. It ought to be a breath of fresh air, but
it wasn't. She felt empty and incomplete, like an important part of
herself was missing. And in a very real way, it was.
She kept expecting him to appear in front of her, smiling that
slightly wicked, always boyish grin of his, the stubborn bangs dropping
over his forehead, his bright hazel eyes gleaming with intelligence and
humor. And when she turned her head to see he wasn't there, she felt
herself physically droop, her heart settling into her belly. She felt
sick to her stomach, and this food wasn't helping.
"Are you okay, Dana?" Douglas asked with concern showing in his
brown eyes.
"Yes," she forced herself to give a brittle laugh. "I'm fine,"
she insisted. Then she looked down at her plate and grimaced. "I think
it's just the food."
He laughed openly. "Yeah, banquet food never changes. Its either
bad or worse." She smiled at the joke, feeling a stab of guilt. He
really was a nice man and it wasn't his fault that he just wasn't the
right one for her.
Feeling an aching need for the man she had come to love so
deeply, she closed her eyes and sent out a call along that indefinable
link that was their life-bond. //Mulder!!!\\
- - - - -

Leaning back in his chair, Mulder almost toppled over when
Scully's voice sounded in his head. He recovered quickly, though not
without garnering a couple of stares from his dinner companions. For
once, being 'Spooky' Mulder was a blessing. He figured that even if he
got up on the table and started a strip tease, no one would be
particularly surprised. And given the increasing state of inebriation
of some of the agents, they might even enjoy it.
//Especially Diana.\\ Scully commented acidly.
//Don't remind me.\\ Mulder sighed, throwing the tall blond a
quick glance. She gave him a predatory smile, pressing a stockinged toe
along the length of his calf. He pulled back, shifting uneasily in his
chair. //Scully!!!\\
Her laugh chimed in his head. //Sorry, Mulder. You got yourself
into it, you'll have to get yourself out. Didn't you know that she's
had the hots for you for years?\\ The contact between their minds was
as comfortable as it had always been, creating a small glow of warmth
that radiated outward from the center of her chest.
//How was I supposed to know that?\\ He complained. //I didn't
think she'd think this was more than... a dinner date.\\ He was
incredibly relieved to hear from Scully, knowing that he'd been stupid
not to reach out to her, feeling the familiar touch of her mind
reverberate along every nerve in his body.
//And you're supposed to be the FBI's best psychological
analyst,\\ she teased.
//Figuring out what's going on in the head of a psycho is much
easier than trying to understand women,\\ he shot back.
//IS that right?\\ Even though he was on the other side of the
room, and facing away from her, Mulder could just SEE her right eyebrow
inch upwards over a clear blue eye.
//So where'd you find Hulk Hogan?\\ He quickly changed the
subject.
//DOUGLAS is a friend of my friend Elizabeth.\\
//Ahh, the matchmaker...\\ His thought came tinged with
amusement.
//Mulder!\\ Scully mentally shook her head. //She means well,
and besides, she came through for me tonight. Skinner very much
approves.\\
//Oh, does he indeed?\\ That thought went over with a bit more
bitterness than Mulder had intended.
//Mulder...\\
//I'm sorry, Scully. I just hate this. These stupid banquets are
bad enough, without having to see you with some blond weight-lifter
type while I have to fend off an octopus.\\ Diana's foot was insistent
against his leg, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
//I'm not terribly happy about it either.\\ Scully let some of
her own discontent drift into her sending. //Douglas really is a nice
guy - and he is a medical doctor - but we don't have much else in
common, and well, I'm bored!\\
That complaint got a rush of amusement from Mulder. //Guess I've
spoiled you, huh, Scully?\\
//Maybe,\\ she replied with some self-directed humor. //Not that
a little peace and quiet isn't welcome.\\
//You could send some this way,\\ Mulder told her, wriggling in
his chair. //I think I need to be rescued. SOON!\\
//OK. I'll see what I can do.\\ Scully nearly found herself
laughing aloud at the images that were coming from her partner's mind.
Diana looked more like a hungry tiger than a cool competent woman, and
Mulder's sense of repulsion was translating into a serious itch.
- - - - -

Dinner started to break up as people began to wander between the
tables, working their way through copious amounts of alcohol. The tenor
of the conversations was rising into louder laughter and more
expressive interactions. Music was already filtering in from the
neighboring ballroom, and a few couples were slowly moving in that
direction, weaving around the wait-staff as they attempted to clear the
tables.
Scully and Douglas found Mulder just as he was about to attempt
to flee to the men's room, any excuse to get away from Diana. Scully
smiled at the look of utter relief he turned on her, as he got up too
quickly from the table, spilling his chair over onto its side. Douglas
was there to pick it up, while Diana peeled herself up out of her own
chair to meld herself against Mulder's side.
"Thank you," Mulder said to Douglas, though his eyes never left
his partner's face. "Hi Scully." As he moved closer to her, Diana came
along with him, giving Scully a territorial glare. Scully gave her a
calm smile in return.
"Douglas, this is my partner, Fox Mulder. And Diana Henderson.
Mulder, this is Dr. Douglas Sheldon." Mulder winced as his hand got
seized in an iron vice, but he managed to squeeze out a grin. "Nice to
meet you Doug."
"You, too, Fox." That really made Mulder grimace in pain,
causing Scully to leap in with the explanation. "Mulder doesn't like
his first name much. Better call him Mulder, everyone else does."
"Sorry," Douglas replied with casual good humor.
"That's okay," Mulder replied. "Just don't do it again, or I'll
have to arrest you."
Diana laughed, Douglas grinned, Scully threw Mulder an
exasperated glance. He shrugged lightly.
"So have you two known each other for long?" Diana asked archly,
still rubbing herself against Mulder's side.
"Not long," Scully answered blandly. "A friend introduced us."
//Don't just stand there, help me get away from her!\\ Mulder
mind-spoke plaintively.
Scully smiled. //Take it easy.\\ Then she spoke aloud. "If you
don't mind sparing me for a moment, Douglas, Mulder promised me a dance
tonight, and I think I'd like to collect."
"That's a great idea!" Mulder had a hard time not shouting his
reply. Taking the chance to disentangle himself from Diana rapidly, he
grabbed Scully's hand and led her away. "We'll be right back," he
tossed over his shoulder, though he added silently, //...over my dead
body!\\
Diana watched them go, her face settling into a discontented
frown, ignoring Douglas until he stepped up behind her and put a large
hand on her shoulder. "I'm not much of a dancer, but I'd be glad to
give it a try if you'd be willing," he offered.
Diana turned to look at him fully for the first time. She took in
the thick, curly blond hair, the guileless brown eyes, and the heavy,
well-defined muscles obvious under the expensive, tailored suit, and
her red lips began to pull up into a smile. "I think I'd like that very
much."
- - - - -

The music swelled around them as Scully settled into Mulder's
arms with a sigh of relief. //I missed you.\\
//I missed you, too,\\ he replied, drawing her even closer to
him as he guided them across the floor. //I'm sorry I acted the way I
did, I should have...\\
//It was my fault, too,\\ Scully offered. //I guess even a
life-bond doesn't guarantee communication, if we refuse to use it.\\
Mulder nodded, leaning his face down to take in the sweet, clean
scent of her hair. //Maybe we took it too much for granted,\\ he
thought wryly. //I was so jealous at the thought of you going out with
another man, even when I knew it wasn't for real. I trusted you, but it
hurt anyway.\\
//I felt the same way,\\ she replied, nuzzling into the hollow
of his shoulder. Dancing with him always made her feel like she was
floating on a cloud, her feet seemed to hardly touch the ground. He
held her, guided her, supported her - and all she had to do was relax
into the warmth of his embrace.
Mulder didn't reply, let his emotions flow down the mind-link,
while he gazed down at the top of her fiery head. He would never lose
the sense of amazement that this strong, passionate, smart, beautiful
woman could possibly love him as much as she did.
Scully caught the edges of that thought, making her smile against
his chest. She loved seeing the image of herself in his heart and mind,
though she sometimes had trouble associating it with herself. But then,
she knew that her own image of him was a continuous surprise to him,
even more so, because of his tendency towards self-denigration. That
was one of the things she would never forgive his parents for, among
others. But this was not the time for bad thoughts, right now she just
wanted to savor the delight of dancing with the man she loved.
- - - - -

The song ended far too soon, and Mulder was slow to release
Scully. Even as the strains of the next song started up, he held her
close, and in turn, she resisted his pulling away. //One more,
please?\\ she urged, almost sleepily, her eyes heavy-lidded with
contentment.
Mulder found that look of sleepy satisfaction in her bright blue
eyes incredibly erotic, his groin muscles tensing in reaction. Scully
was close enough to read both the physical and emotional desire in his
response, causing her to curve her mouth upwards in the smile of a
woman secure in her man's love. Which only exacerbated his arousal.
//Easy,\\ she told him, as his eyes darkened and his emotions
threatened to flood her. //I think we'd better save that for
later...\\ Both her mind and her eyes promised him that it would be
worth the wait.
He groaned softly, his eyes piercing hers. //Not too much
later...\\
//Not too much later...\\ she agreed, twining a hand through the
hair on the back of his neck. //But we'd better watch it now, or we'll
ruin the whole effect of our dates.\\
//Our dates?\\ Mulder's head shot up, his eyes scanning the room
as his body tensed, this time with anxiety rather than desire. Then he
relaxed visibly.
Scully turned in his arms, easily following his gaze. A few feet
away, Diana and Douglas were dancing smoothly, their blond heads bent
closely together. As Mulder and Scully watched with growing amusement,
Douglas laughed and twirled the fair agent out, then back in, dropping
her into a dip so deep her head almost hit the floor. Then he
effortlessly pulled her up against him, his large arms flexing around
her slim waist. Diana was giggling helplessly, sliding against him,
her eyes pinned to his face.
From their vantage point, Mulder and Scully were having a hard
time keeping the laughter contained. She leaned back against him,
shaking with mirth. He closed his arms around her and squeezed, then
leaned down to whisper into her ear. "Looks like love at first sight
to me."
"Elizabeth is going to have a fit! She had such high hopes for
Douglas and me." Scully laughed, then looked up into his gleaming
hazel eyes. "Well, at least we don't have to feel so badly about using
them to get out of our own mess."
Mulder grinned. "And better yet, we can steal another dance or
two out of it." Saying that, he released her only long enough to turn
her around, then he drew her close again. She smiled back at him, then
closed her eyes and let him lead her back into the dance.
//Remember the last time we danced together?\\ Scully thought
reflectively.
//Yes.\\ The memory of the victory celebration in the Realm
resolved itself in both their minds, Mulder's eidetic memory bringing
each sensation into clear relief. Closing her eyes, Scully could HEAR
the sound of the Realm-style music sounding above them, while her body
remembered the feeling of wearing the thick soft velvet, and her eyes
could recall the bright mix of colors under the clear blue sky.
//I miss it sometimes.\\ She sent softly. //Now, it seems
almost like a dream.\\
//I know, I miss it too.\\ Mulder's mind-voice tasted
bittersweet. Scully shifted in his arms, lifting her face up towards
his. "I wonder how our friends are. I hope things are okay there."
"I'm sure they are fine, love," Mulder reassured her. "Reinald
would have contacted us if something was wrong." His hand drew up to
his throat, pressing through the silk of his shirt to feel the solid
presence of the miniature oracle cloud resting against his chest.
Sculy nodded. "Yes, though I wish there was a way to contact
them sometimes. Or to visit."
"I know." He let his hand drop to gently rest on the small of
her back. "We will see them again sometime. I'm sure of it."
"I hope so," she replied, nestling back into the circle of his
embrace. "I've been thinking about them a lot lately, wondering how
Aldara and Jourdain are doing..."
"And Reinald, and Tarnor, and Andalor..." Mulder agreed. "I've
been thinking about them a lot too." He stared out over her head, his
eyes focusing on empty air.
"I wonder what they are doing right now?"

End Chapter One

Chapter Two Part A

He had been careful and patient, cooperative and compliant, and
today he would have his reward. Andalor contemplated the travel sack
and looked around his chambers. What would he need for his journey?
>From the armoire he took a couple of changes of clothing and thrust
them into the sack, even as he surveyed the room for other necessities.
His knife, of course. That followed the clothing into the bag.
The boy crossed the room, picking up a poker as he passed the
hearth, and stopped in the far corner of the chamber. Shoving aside a
small but heavy wooden table, he dropped to his knees. He felt in the
gloom of the dark corner for the stone which rocked slightly at his
touch. Using the poker as a lever, he raised the paving stone from the
floor and strained to push it aside. He reached into the cavity and
brought up a small but weighty leather pouch. Then the boy replaced
the stone and the table, and carried the pouch to his bed where he
spilled out the contents.
There were five lumps of the yellow metal that Mulder told him
was so valuable in the other world. Andalor looked at them doubtfully.
Although the metal was used in the Realm for making jewelry and other
small decorative items, those items were valued for their stones or
their engravings rather than for the metal itself. It was considered
too soft and heavy for anything really practical or valuable, such as
swords and tools. Andalor hoped that Mulder had been correct about its
value - he planned to use the metal to trade for what he needed in the
other world.
Two lovely rings also lay on the bed - one for Mulder with a
glittering deep blue stone, and one for Scully with an opaque green and
brown cat's eye stone. The jewels had been carefully chosen, not only
to represent the auras of the wearers, but also because they were from
a small collection of stones reputed to have magical powers, for those
who knew how to use them properly. Andalor had commissioned a famous
artisan to make the rings long ago, before he had given up hope that
Mulder and Scully would find their way back to the Realm. Well, if
they couldn't receive them in the Realm, Andalor would bring the rings
to them, in their own world. Accompanying the rings were two
cuff-style bracelets, commissioned more recently. One large and one
small, they were of the heavy yellow metal and were engraved with
scenes from the Realm.
The final items from the pouch were three medium-sized crystals.
Reinald had given him these miniature oracle clouds and had instructed
the boy in their use, so that when Andalor was out amongst his subjects
in the Realm he could use them to contact the magician. He had never
needed to use them, but he thought they might come in handy for
contacting Mage Mulder when he got to the other world. He knew Mulder
had been given a similar crystal on his departure from the Realm.
Andalor scooped the metal, the jewelry and the crystals up from the bed
and returned them to the pouch, which he then placed in the travel
sack.
Going into the little washing chamber, he took a few of the soft
cloths from the stack and carried them to the table. He wrapped his
breakfast breads in one, some fruits in another and a large hunk of
dried meat in the third, and added them to the bag. Crossing to the
hearth, he took an earthenware flask down from the mantle. Carefully
he filled it with tea from the pot on the table, then pushed in the
leather and cork stopper. He remembered how much Mulder had
appreciated the restorative qualities of Realm tea. Possibly he
himself would have need of such a restorative in Mulder's world. The
flask followed the other things into the sack.
Packing complete, Andalor sat in an armchair by the fire to await
the perfect moment to put his plan into action - what plan there was.
He assumed that something would occur to him when the time came. The
only thing he knew for sure was that somehow, he would get into that
room and go through the Vortex.
He felt odd. There was the frisson of excitement, to be sure,
for the new challenges and new experiences to come. But there was also
a little fear about those same experiences. What would he encounter in
Mulder's world? What if he couldn't find Mulder? Impatiently, Andalor
dismissed his gloomy thoughts. How big could this other world be?
Besides, surely everyone in his world would have heard of Mulder and
could therefore tell him where to find the Mage. Between Mulder's
renown and the miniature oracle clouds, Andalor was sure he would have
no trouble. What totally surprised him, however, was the tiny but
persistent sensation at the back of his mind which told him that he
would miss the familiarity of the Realm and his existence here. He had
not expected that.
Just nerves, he told himself. Like a warrior right before a
great battle. This is the right thing to do, he assured himself - a
great Quest. He deserved to have a little fun and adventure before
returning to take up the crown and spend the remainder of his life in
servitude to the Realm. Andalor frowned. IF he decided to return -
the prospect of living out his days among the quarrelsome noble houses
and the intrigues of the court was not attractive. The boy hoped that
his preparations would not be wasted. He had estimated that the
crucial experiment would take place today, but he could not be sure.
No matter. If it wasn't today, it would be soon. The main thing was
to keep his plan a secret.
A light tap at the door interrupted Andalor from his thoughts,
and his servant came into the room to clear away the remains of
breakfast.
Dorbo looked with satisfaction at the table. "Hungry this
morning, I see, Your Highness! I must say I'm happy to see that.
There for a while you weren't eating as much as my youngest, who's but
a baby. That's good - you're growing, you need your food." The
servant chattered on, about Andalor's babyhood, about the late King and
Queen, about some of his childhood pranks, as he did his work.
Andalor surveyed Dorbo with a mixture of affection and
exasperation. He had been hearing his elven servant fret about his
nutritional status ever since he could remember, and he could remember
back to well before his parents died. With a start, Andalor thought of
the sack at his feet near the hearth. If his servant spotted that, he
would ask questions for sure! And Dorbo had as much aura reading
capability as any elf - his plan could be ruined! Gingerly, he pushed
the sack slowly under his chair with his foot. He stopped abruptly
when he saw the elf begin to turn in his direction. Fortunately, the
elf did not look at him, but merely continued to pile the baskets and
dishes on the tray as he delivered his message.
"Oh, by the way, Your Highness. Reinald asked me to remind you
to have your essay ready - the one on the ramifications of the marriage
between Limna of the House of Maalfees and Brot the Trembler of the
House of Ranfaus. He won't be able to meet you this morning as
planned. He asked if you would instead meet him in his chambers
immediately after the noon meal. He said he had something to do with
the Professor which would delay him." The elf effortlessly lifted the
heavy tray of used crockery to his shoulder and moved to the door.
Distracted, Andalor murmured, "Yes - all right, Dorbo."
Glancing up, feeling a sudden pang, he blurted out, "Oh, and Dorbo -
thank you for everything."
The elf looked back at him, pleased and touched. While Andalor
was a good master and usually thoughtful, recently he had been
withdrawn and surly. "You're quite welcome, Your Highness." The
little elf went out, closing the door behind him.
Andalor returned to his thoughts. Limna and Brot the Trembler
indeed. So Reinald was meeting right now with the Professor. Andalor
had been correct in his timing after all. He pulled his sack out from
under the chair. He took a last look around his chamber, and threw the
sack over his shoulder as he walked to the door. Sticking his head
out, he surveyed the empty stone corridor. Then he left his chamber,
making his way stealthily up to the battlements and the workroom of the
Professor.

- - - - -

"Carefully, Professor! Be very careful with that!" The Mage
looked on nervously as the Professor made a few last minute adjustments
to one of the liquid-filled jars on the long wooden table.
"Not to worry, Reinald," the scientist said mildly. "I've
handled trickier stuff than this. Why, it isn't even radioactive."
Neumann immersed the metallic wires in the liquid.
Reinald looked puzzled. "Ray-dee-oh-ak-tif?" He pronounced the
alien word haltingly.
Neumann smiled to himself. "Never mind. Hand me that parchment,
would you please? I just want to check my calculations one more time."
The Mage did as he was asked, then started to pace the length of
the room. "Will it work, do you think? It seems so much more
ambitious than our earlier experiments. The creature is so much
larger."
"Don't worry so much - it's just a logical extension of our
previous work. If all goes well and we proceed to the next step - now,
that will be cause for some anxiety."
The room now had twice as much equipment as it had on that day
long ago when Andalor had first stumbled across the make-shift
laboratory. Twice as many bubbling cauldrons, twice as many benches
and tables with twice as many strange devices. Not to mention the
large goat, standing in the center of the room and looking on the
activity around it with a baleful glare.
Ordinarily, no amount of coaxing or prodding would have gotten a
goat up the many flights of winding staircases to the very top level of
the castle. The goat's presence in the room was not quite silent
testimony to some advances in Reinald's magic. He had created a spell
which would, without the necessity of building a Gate, "transport"
living creatures very short distances. The goat had been given a
sleeping potion by Corvay, and then moved from the courtyard to the
workroom by means of the spell. It did not appear to have enjoyed the
experience. In fact, it was decidedly cranky.
It was Reinald's active participation in the Professor's time and
space experiments, using these advances, that had brought them to where
they were today. After months of tests, they could finally send and
retrieve small inanimate objects on a regular basis. For the past
several experiments, they had sent small animals made somnolent and
cooperative by one of Corvay's potions, and had then retrieved them
healthy from the other side of the vortex - wherever that was. And
that was the point - while the Professor thought he knew where these
objects and animals were going, he could not prove they had arrived at
that exact place. Not unless he sent an intelligent being. Neumann
had read all the Realm records (as well as the FBI records) of the old
Vortex experiments which had ended so tragically. He thought he could
control both the place to which the subjects were sent, and the time of
their arrival. That is what he wanted so badly to prove. And today's
experiment was another step closer to the truth. If the larger animal
could be sent through the vortex and retrieved safely, their
next step would be finding a human volunteer. That person would be
able to tell the pair what he had experienced on the other side of the
vortex when he returned.
"All right, we need to get the goat over closer to the door.
That's where the vortex will form. It's easier to move the goat than
recalculate the vortex." Neumann took the rope and began to attempt to
pull the goat towards the door, a distance of some fifteen or twenty
feet. With equal determination, the goat stood its ground, refusing to
move.
"Come on, you noisome, recalcitrant beast! Reinald - help me!"
Together the scientist and the mage pushed, pulled and prodded the
animal into position by the half-open door. The scientist moved to the
jars, fiddled with some wires, and handed a relay to the magician.
"It's in your hands now, Reinald."
Grasping the relay, Reinald closed his eyes and began to chant.
For some time, the Professor watched him perform this increasingly
familiar ritual. At times when he was alone, he would shake his head
in wonder at the strange path his scientific research had taken. But
despite his deepest misgivings when he had first started his
experiments in the Realm, he had made more progress here than he had in
his own world. At first he had been frustrated by the things that he
lacked - equipment, power, and so on. But eventually he discovered
assets peculiar to the Realm. The talents of the Mage more than made
up for the inconvenience of the lack of electricity and computers.
On the hearth, a cauldron began to bubble over, creating steam
and an unbelievable stench. Fearful that the Mage's concentration
would be interrupted, Neumann rushed to the fireplace to take the pot
from the heat. The sleepy goat opened its eyes at the sudden movement
in the room to notice a proffered piece of fruit, just the other side
of the doorway. Yellow eyes alight with interest, the goat trotted
unnoticed out the door and down the hall to where several of the sweet
fruits lay scattered on the stone floor.
The air near the door began to shimmer and waver. A soft
rumbling sound intensified to a moderate roar, as the wavering gave way
to a wild swirling motion and parchments were blown from the table by
its force. The Professor had dealt with the little emergency on the
hearth and was finally turning toward the door when the roar reached
its peak. To his horror, he saw, not a goat, but the Prince of the
Realm diving through the newly created vortex into the unknown.
The Mage's eyes had sprung open at the Professor's strangled cry,
too late to see the cause of it. Neumann stood transfixed for several
seconds, while Reinald stared at him.
"Gunther, what is it?" the Mage finally asked, anxiously. "Are
you all right?"
"Oh my God, Reinald - Andalor went through the vortex. What are
we going to do?" Guilt-stricken, Neumann turned to his partner. "I am
so sorry...I never thought..."
"WHAT? Andalor? How did... Well, bring him back - now!"
shouted the mage. "You would have brought the cursed goat back by now,
so just bring him back!"
"Reinald, it's not that simple. The calculations I performed
were based on the weight and size of the animal." The Professor ran
his hands distractedly through his hair. He moved to the table and
clutched at a dozen or more parchments filled with tiny figures. "It
took me days to make these calculations. It will take me days to
recalculate and try to determine where Andalor may be - in both space
and time - because it most certainly will NOT be exactly the same place
and time the goat would have emerged. I won't know until I do the
figures."
Reinald stared at Neumann as if cast in stone. "Are you telling
me that you don't know where he is?"
Neumann shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Reinald, but no, I
don't. If I had to make a guess...I don't know." He sank dejectedly
onto a stool.
"What did we do wrong? How could such a terrible accident have
happened?" The magician looked around helplessly.
The Professor looked up at him, surprised. "Reinald, I'm very
sorry - perhaps I should have made it more clear. It wasn't an
accident. Andalor had a bag with him. He ran into the vortex
deliberately."

- - - - -

The scientist and the magician made their way in stunned silence
to Reinald's chambers. When they arrived, the full impact of what had
happened suddenly seemed to hit the magician, and he collapsed into the
waiting arms of his mage-apprentice Pitir. With the scientist's help,
the little troll got Reinald to an armchair and they gently lowered him
into it.
"Pitir, listen. Run and get Jourdain, Aldara, and Corvay. Tell
them it's an emergency."
Pitir ran out as fast as his short little legs would carry him.
Meanwhile, the Professor busied himself at the hearth, heating water to
make tea, and occasionally glancing worriedly over at the Mage. In no
time at all Jourdain came bursting through the door.
"What happened?" he thundered, as he rushed to the Mage's side.
Ever since Reinald's arrest and trial so long ago, Jourdain had been
very protective of the Mage, possibly because he had come so close to
having to execute his friend. Jourdain appeared much as he had in
those days - maybe a little heavier, a little grayer, a little less
stern. Although Reinald would steadfastly maintain that he kept
personal relationships to a minimum, his friendship with Jourdain was
closer than blood. Now the soldier looked down on the pale features of
his friend and was afraid.
"It's shock, I think," said the Professor, suddenly exhausted.
"Wait til the others get here, and I'll tell you all what happened at
the same time. I don't think I could go through it more than once,"
he finished dejectedly.
Their attention was drawn to the door as a tiny child darted
through it and was at Reinald's feet in a flash, followed by a panting
Aldara.
"Daanna! I told you to wait! This is NOT how you enter the
Mage's chambers!" she began scolding her daughter, then caught the
serious expression on her husband's face. "Jourdain, what is it?" she
asked, suddenly frightened.
Their lives had bordered on the idyllic for so long, Aldara had
almost forgotten what trouble and fear were. The intervening years had
been good to her and she had changed little. She still had the slight
limp caused by her serious injuries during the war with the Dark
creatures, and she was not quite so painfully thin as she had once
been. Not in real fighting form, perhaps, but still as fit as her
injury would allow her to be. Her black curly hair remained without
signs of gray, and her vision and hearing still as keen as that of an
eagle. The only change was a nebulous one - the softness of
contentment replacing the seriousness and even bitterness that had once
marked her visage. That soft look was on her face now as she watched
her little girl hold Reinald's hand and pat it, crooning to the
semi-conscious Mage. "We were in the nursery, playing. She suddenly s
topped and said that we had to come here quick because Reinald needed
us." She watched her daughter with something akin to awe.
"He's in shock," Jourdain said in a low voice. "Something's
happened, I don't know what. After Corvay has seen to Reinald, the
Professor will tell us all what's going on. Probably something to do
with those accursed experiments they've been doing. I warned
Reinald...." The soldier made a sudden move of impatience, then looked
up as Pitir came rushing into the room accompanied by Corvay and the
elven healer's human assistant Kyla.
"I couldn't find...oh, you're here," said Pitir, noticing
Aldara's presence. "I guess I should have known. So the little one
did it again, heh?" He smiled at the little girl despite his fear for
his master. "Daanna, come with me, poppet, and give Healer Corvay room
to work, all right?" He took the child's hand. As he led her across
the chamber to a quiet corner, she turned to look back at the tense
group of adults.
"It's okay, he's just 'fraid about Andalor. If you find Andalor,
he'll be all better." With that, the tiny child allowed herself to be
taken away from the scene of activity.
Corvay and Kyla crowded close to Reinald and touched their hands
to his head and chest. Discovering that his state was, indeed, more a
mental than physical problem as Daanna had told them, they began a
chant designed to bring about solace and strengthening. After several
minutes, Reinald began to stir. Kyla assisted him to sit up while
Corvay poured out a dose of one of his potions and held it to Reinald's
lips. The mage wrinkled his nose and scowled furiously but drank down
the whole draught. Reassured that Reinald was in no danger, Aldara
helped the Professor to distribute tea to everyone in the room, as they
all found places to sit.
"Well, someone start," rumbled Jourdain. Hearing her father's
voice, Daanna broke away from Pitir and scurried over to climb up onto
his lap. He gathered her into his arms instinctively and his face lost
a little of its intimidating look. Aldara noticed and smiled to
herself. It had been so since the day of the child's birth almost four
years ago. One look and he had been captivated by his tiny daughter.
She had elven features with the exception of human ears, and shared the
black curls of her mother and the dark blue eyes of her father.
What the child's parents had come to understand only lately,
however, was the fact that Daanna was gifted with a very rare and
special form of magic talent. These gifts were not apparent from
birth, as with most mage children, but rather had begun appearing
within the past several months and were of a power that had not been
seen in many generations. Recently Reinald had begun teaching her
controls and shielding; he was unsure if she needed the traditional
lessons, but felt it would be better to be safe than sorry. Aside from
seeming more mature and a bit quieter than other children her age, the
child seemed to be a normal, happy little girl who accepted her gifts
artlessly.
The Professor cleared his throat. "All right, I'll begin.
Reinald and I were conducting an experiment, up near the battlements.
We created a small vortex" - at the mention of the word a sharp intake
of breaths could be heard and looks of terror darted from person to
person - "no, no, nothing like that sort of vortex. We've been
creating them for quite some time now, small controllable ones. There
haven't been any problems."
"Up until now," Corvay said dryly. The little old elf had
become even more wizened over the years, but his wit had lost none of
its sharpness. He did little healing himself now, except for the
Prince and the small group now in Reinald's chambers. For the most
part, he trained others in the chants and techniques that had made him
such a wonderful healer. His newest assistant, Kyla, had come from a
small northern village less than a year ago and was making great
progress. But none had learned so well or so quickly as the beautiful,
strange, doubting woman he had taught so long ago. Corvay thought
often of her and her bondmate, the brave people who had risked
everything to help them save the Realm.
Heatedly, the Professor countered, "There was nothing wrong with
the experiment. It went just as it should have. What we didn't know
was that Andalor knew about the experiments. He has run away into the
vortex."
"What?" "By the gods!" "But why?" Exclamations could be heard
from everyone in the room. Whatever they had been expecting, it wasn't
this. "Are you sure, Professor? That just doesn't sound like
Andalor," asked Aldara earnestly.
"I'm afraid there is no doubt, my dear," Reinald said wearily.
"Andalor has been very restless lately, full of questions, not applying
himself to his studies. I attributed it to his age and failed to take
his complaints as seriously as I obviously should have. No, there is
no question."
As Reinald trailed off to gaze into the flames of the hearth, the
Professor again spoke. "I saw Andalor purposely dive into the vortex -
he was not pulled into it. He also had with him a travel sack.
Evidently, while my attention was elsewhere, he lured the goat - which
we were intending to send through the vortex - out of the room and down
the hall with some fruit. He must have known about the experiments for
some time and came prepared."
"Well, where did he go? Oh, goddess, not to that horrible place
of the Dark creatures," Aldara shrank in her seat, all the nightmarish
memories coming back in a rush.
"NO!" said the Professor, seeing the panic in so many faces.
More gently, he said, "No, he hasn't gone there. I can't tell you for
sure where he HAS gone exactly, but I do know where he HASN'T gone. I
believe he is in my former world - somewhere. I think he is probably
there close to the same time the goat should have arrived - within a
decade or two."
"A decade or two? Is that as close as you can come?? We'll
NEVER find him," Jourdain roared.
"Calm yourself, Jourdain," said Corvay mildly. "I suspect that
the Professor can come closer than that, can't you, Professor Neumann?"
"Yes, of course I can. It's just going to take some time to
recalculate everything. But I should be able to find him."
"And then what?" Reinald said plaintively.
Aldara looked at her own child, safe on her father's lap and
imagined Andalor alone in a totally alien world. She raised her eyes
to take in the rest of the group and spoke with determination. "And
then we go get him."

--------------------------
End Chpt 2 Part A
--------------------------

Chapter Two Part B

The group had wrangled back and forth for several hours on the
wisdom of trying to find Andalor in the other world, and who should
constitute the rescue party. Finally, when the shadows climbed the
walls and one of the moons was visible through the tall windows of
Reinald's chamber, Corvay called a halt to the discussion.
"Enough. We are all exhausted." Corvay got stiffly to his feet,
drew a small bottle from his brown robe and passed it to Kyla. "A
generous dose, my dear. Pour it out for Reinald. And Reinald, you
will take it without making your usual fuss - that sets a bad example
for the child. This potion will help you to sleep. We will all be
thinking clearer in the morning. I have listened to you all bicker
back and forth for hours. Now, may I suggest a course of action?"
Wearily, the members of the group indicated their agreement with
nods or grunts.
"Ah, good. Being sensible at last." The old elf smiled his
approval. "All right. Obviously, Professor, your first duty will be
to perform your calculations so we can locate Andalor. Until that is
done, all else is useless." The Professor nodded his assent.
"Jourdain and Aldara - I think it would be beneficial for you to come
up with an idea of who should travel through the vortex to find Andalor
- one person, several, those who are most involved, or those who are
not involved in any way. Be practical. All right?"
The couple looked at each other. "Yes, all right," agreed
Jourdain, somewhat reluctantly.
"Reinald? I suggest that you and I start trying to see what
spells and potions may be of use in the other world for the search
party. But in the morning. We've done as much as we can tonight. Go
to bed and get some rest. The next few days will be trying for all of
us."

- - - - -

Jourdain cradled the sleeping form of his tiny daughter as he and
his wife made their way down the staircases and hallways and out
through the courtyard to the little cottage where Aldara had lived
before their marriage. It was untraditional for a couple to dwell in a
wife's former home, but little about their marriage was traditional.
First, there was the question of species. Jourdain was human.
Aldara was half human and half elf, and as such had never felt entirely
comfortable in either culture. Although it was obviously possible for
marriages between the species to take place, they were rare. Aldara
had long since despaired of ever having a husband and family of her
own. But suddenly in the darkest days of the Realm, when annihilation
seemed to be their only future, the two warriors had discovered the
unlikely love they shared - a love that made the following days of
carnage both harder and easier to bear.
Their marriage had taken place as part of the celebration for
deliverance from the Dark creatures, witnessed by all the court and by
the two strangers who had played such a vital role in saving the Realm.
One of those strangers had become Aldara's best friend - in truth, her
only friend at that time. It was from these strangers, the lovely
russet haired warrior-healer and the tall powerful mage, that they had
gotten the idea for an untraditional start to their life together -
something they had called a "honeymoon".
Such a thing was unheard of in the Realm, where weddings were
formal affairs dictated by ritual and protocol, and even the couple's
first intimacy was often witnessed by members of the family. The newly
wedded pair traditionally stayed close to home under the watchful eyes
of their elders. But neither Aldara nor Jourdain had any close family
ties. And if the truth be told, the occasion of their first intimacy
had passed some weeks before. So their marriage was already off to an
untraditional start. After Mage Mulder and Dana had left, Aldara had
been very saddened by the departure of her friend. Since she had
always wanted to see the ocean and wanting to cheer her, Jourdain took
his new wife on a long wedding trip to the coast. The Realm was in a
state of disorder, with all the work of rebuilding to be done, but the
couple holidayed with the blessings of Reinald
Aldara was still convalescent from her injuries, and the Mage felt
that their toil and sacrifice during the war should be rewarded.
On their return, the question of accommodations arose. Jourdain
had lived in the barracks with the other soldiers since the death of
his first wife many years before. Building efforts were directed
toward sheltering those made homeless by the invasion of the Dark
Realm. Thus, the logical though untraditional solution was for
Jourdain to move into Aldara's little cottage. It had suited the both
of them so well that they stayed there, even when the resources became
available for them to build a new dwelling. Since the birth of their
daughter, the cottage had gotten a bit cramped, but neither wanted to
leave the place that had grown to symbolize their union and that held
so many memories. So they had built an addition on to the side of the
cottage, a small bedchamber for themselves, and continued to live
happily in the unassuming little structure which belied the powe
r and position of those who dwelled inside.
Aldara opened the door and Jourdain walked the length of the room
to gently lay Daanna on her tiny bed in the corner. As her husband
covered the child with a quilt, Aldara stooped to poke the ashes in the
hearth, sighed, and started the process of building a new fire.
Jourdain drew some water from the well outside and together they made
tea. They sat heavily in the armchairs by the now-crackling fire,
exhausted, but too upset to sleep.
"Do you think he went to the other world to try to find Mulder?"
asked Aldara. "He was as close to Mulder as I was to Dana." Aldara
had missed Dana bitterly after she left, and had not given up hope
until recently that somehow her friend would return to the Realm, at
least to visit.
"I don't know - maybe. Or maybe it came from his listening to
all the Professor's damnfool stories about that other world," replied
Jourdain gloomily. "He's an impressionable boy, and in spite of his
position, he has not had an easy life. Actually, because of his
position, I suppose. He lost his parents at a very early age, and his
whole life has been spent preparing to be King. I've noticed lately he
hasn't been happy, but I never thought he'd try anything as stupid as
this."
Aldara smiled. "And what were you like at his age, my love?"
Jourdain grunted at the memory and then returned her smile. "I
left home and joined a band of Protectors." Protector was the name
given to members of the security squad which often travelled with
caravans of traders who moved from village to village. Brigands were
not unusual in certain areas of the Realm, and sizable carnivorous
beasts inhabited the deeper forests. "I wanted adventure and I wanted
to see the world. I never returned home." His smile vanished again.
Nodding, Aldara said, "I know. I was not much older than he when
I left home myself." They were silent for a few minutes. She yawned.
"I know we should sleep, but I'm sure I'll just toss and turn. What do
you think about the search party?"
"I know that the Professor will have to be a part of it."
Jourdain sighed. "You know I don't find him as charming and harmless
as everyone else appears to, but only he knows that world. Assuming
it's possible of course, that he doesn't have to remain here because of
making the vortex or something. But his inclusion will give the team
its best chance of success. Besides - the party may be able to get to
the other world, but the possibility exists that they may not be able
to get back to the Realm. At least the Professor will be in a world in
which he belongs. Anyone else who accompanies him will not have that
comfort," Jourdain finished grimly, looking over at his daughter who
was stirring in her bed. He turned back and stared into the fire and
was silent for a minute or two. "You know I'll have to go, don't you?"
Aldara gazed into the fire, afraid to meet her husband's eyes.
Quietly she said, "I know. I want so much to be at your side, but with
Daanna...." She reached for his hand and simply held it for a few
minutes. They had not had to face a separation from each other since
the war. So deep were both of them in their own thoughts that they
didn't notice their daughter's presence until she tugged on Jourdain's
sleeve so that he would lift her up onto his lap.
"Mama must go too, Papa."
"What, poppet? Go where?" softly asked a surprised Jourdain.
"Mama must go with you to find Prince Andalor."
Aldara moved from her chair to sit on the hearthrug by the side
of her husband's chair and took her daughter's hand. "But little one -
Mama has to stay here to take care of you."
Solemnly, Daanna shook her head, her eyes large and filled with
tears. "No, Mama has to go, or something bad will happen."
Jourdain turned the child slightly so he could look into her
eyes. "Why, child? Do you have that funny feeling again?" He stroked
her hair gently.
"That funny feeling" was the expression they used for a power
none of them understood. For the past six months or so, Daanna would
occasionally have a strange sensation accompanied by an episode of
precognition. Usually the vision of the future that the child had was
of little consequence, but the important thing was that the episodes
were completely accurate. The actual occurrence deviated in no way
from the vision the child had described days or weeks earlier. Reinald
himself had heard only legends about such a gift and was as much at a
loss to explain it as he was her other gifts, but he believed in it
implicitly.
The little girl nodded. "It's too big to see everything and
everybody. I don't like it - it's scary." Her voice quavered a
little.
"The vision can't hurt you, love. Be brave and tell Mama who
else you see," Aldara comforted her daughter. She looked at Jourdain
meaningfully.
The child closed her eyes and began to name the people she saw in
her vision. "The Prossesser and Reinald and Mama and Papa." Suddenly
she grinned. "And Tarnor! And Prince Andalor and a girl." She
frowned a little, looking puzzled. "And two other people, a man as
tall as Papa and a lady. The lady has hair like fire. And some scary
men doing bad things." She opened her eyes and looked at them.
"Tarnor? Are you sure you see Tarnor?" questioned Jourdain. He
had assumed that Corvay's instructions to be practical would mean that
the rescue party would be composed entirely of humans, who would blend
in more easily in the other world.
"And you saw a tall man and a red-haired lady?" Aldara probed.
Daanna nodded again. "Yes. Tarnor must be there. And there's a
man and a lady."
"Why does Tarnor have to be there?"
She rubbed her eyes and shrugged sleepily. "I don't know. He
just has to be."
"Ah, well, come back to bed, poppet. No one's going anywhere for
a while." Jourdain lifted the child to his shoulder and carried her to
her bed, where he once again tucked her in. Strolling back to the
fireplace, he gave Aldara his hand and helped her out of the chair. He
stirred the fire, then, slipping his arm around his wife's waist, they
walked slowly into their bedchamber.
"Do you think that this is truly one of her visions?" Aldara
asked.
"It would appear so, beloved. I don't think that she would
insist that you go unless she saw it in a vision. It will be very hard
for her, with both of us away."
"Jourdain, I'm so torn. I don't want to leave you, and I don't
want to be away from Daanna. I believe in her visions - they've been
correct so far. There must be a reason that I'm supposed to be there
in the other world with you. And the man and the lady - Jourdain, am I
mad or did it sound like it could be Mage Mulder and Dana? Oh, it
would be so good to see them again! But goddess - what if we couldn't
get back? What if we were trapped in the other world and couldn't get
home to our little girl?"
"Don't worry, Aldara. We'll talk to Reinald and Corvay about
this. For now, try to forget about it and get some rest."
"Forget about it? How can I forget about it? Oh!" Aldara broke
off abruptly as her husband began to nibble on her highly sensitive
ears. She smiled.

End of Chapter Two