The Greylands: Volume VII

  Marked:

  He lay in his blood on the hillside, a dark figure ghosted away from the tragic scene, little more than a deeper shadow amid the thick veils of mist that draped the eerie predawn world. The scattered and terrified sheep bleated disconsolately, their voices muted by the brume. Gradually the animals forgot their initial terror and took up a calming mouthful of grass upon which to chew whilst they mulled over the horrors of the morning, but as philosophical as such beasts are, the first mouthful required another and then another, their contemplations soon forgotten completely in their pursuit of fodder. The sun rose, driving away the concealing mists and the shadow of death that lay heavy upon the stricken boy. He blinked in astonishment and slowly sat up, wondering how he could be so foolish as to fall asleep at his post and allow his charges to scatter hither and yon over the hills.

  As he stood to pursue his far flung flock, a horrified gasp escaped his lips as he realized it had not been a wretched nightmare, the deadly shadow had been all too real, but then how did he stand alive upon the hilltop under the sun? Was he alive? He studied the ashen grey flesh of his hands and thought them far more suited to a corpse than a living man, but his chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of his breathing and his heart beat faithfully in his breast; he was not dead, yet. Blood had indeed been spilled, it glistened wetly upon the herbage, scarlet in the new risen sun, but he could find no lingering wound upon his person. He frowned, wondering what it meant. With a heavy sigh, he hied himself down to the beck, dreading what he would see therein.

  In a quiet pool, he glimpsed something he thought only to see in a nightmare, but it was indeed his own face: ashen grey, the flesh flaccid and pasty, the eyes dead and lifeless. He looked a walking corpse yet he was certain he wasn’t dead, no matter his appearance. A gravelly voice spoke beside him, heavy with emotion, as a firm hand settled fondly on his shoulder; the boy looked again into the pool, his ancient guardian’s face was reflected beside his own, creased with sorrow while an ill-concealed dread lurked just beneath the surface of the usually unflappable man’s countenance. Spoke the ancient shepherd, “the tales be true lad, you’ve fallen headlong into them.”

  Kyan turned pleading eyes upon his master, “but I don’t want to be part of a story, why can’t I just mind the sheep as you have done, a nameless hill shepherd all my days?”

  A slight, sad smile touched the man’s lips while tears glimmered unshed in his eyes, “we all have a story lad, and we have very little say in the writing thereof. We do have certain choices we must make, but the adventures we have and the characters we meet are beyond our control. As this morning testifies.”

  “What has happened?” gasped the horrified boy, suddenly remembering the morning’s ghastly incident, momentarily forgotten with the advent of his guardian.

  The old man shook his head, “a thing I thought merely a tale bantered about by old wives round a winter fire, but here it is under the morning sun, plain before my eyes. You’ve been Marked lad, for death or worse.”

  “M...m...marked?!” stuttered the aghast boy, “what am I to do? What is to come of me?”

  The aging shepherd said quietly, “that I do not know lad, the tales tell but little. They say a shadow comes upon a lad unawares, steals all his youth and vigor, for what purpose is not said, and then leaves him to inevitably die.”

  The boy frowned, “why not just kill me outright?” His frown deepened, “I feel quite well actually, if it came for my vigor, it certainly failed in its attempt.” He glanced again into the pool, “perhaps my looks are forever ruined, but there is life in me yet.” He smiled hopefully, the expression ghastly in that corpselike face, “perhaps I can just go on the same as ever with none the wiser? We live quite alone among these scattered hills and the sheep won’t care.”

  The old man sighed, “it cannot be lad, for if anyone save myself should glimpse your face, worse will come of it, that and the tales hint that you will bring a curse upon all the folk hereabouts should you linger long among mortal men.”

  The boy gaped, “among mortal men?! How can I get any further from civilization, save perhaps to hie myself into the wilds?” His face fell as realization dawned, “I have no place among men any longer.”

  The man put an encouraging hand on the lad’s back, “nay lad, but that is not to say you do not have a place, somewhere. This was no random act of violence, but rather an attempt to either destroy or corrupt you before you could discover what your true destiny is.” His eyes gazed longingly over the distant hills, “and it lies out there, somewhere. But you’ll have to go out and find it.”

  The boy faced the old man, tears in his eyes, “but what will come of you?”

  The ancient man smiled sadly, “aye lad, I survived quite well ere you came into my keeping and I’ll do just that once you’ve left me, but happily I’ll have the memory of our time together to keep me company when you’ve gone.” He shivered, “remember the curse!”

  The boy frowned thoughtfully, “what do you suppose the curse is?”

  “Someone or something sent that vile shadow after you this morning and I have no doubt that the same power will not rest until it has accomplished whatever it intends with you,” said the elderly gentleman, “and likely will send other slaves and minions to see that its ends are attained, regardless of the cost to you and the folk hereabouts.”

  The boy sighed heavily, “then I have no choice but to go, but where?”

  The old man shook his head but again gazed longingly upon the distant hills that rose in their innumerable ranks before vanishing upon the far horizon, “hie yourself into the hills lad and maybe you’ll even find hope therein.”

  The boy smiled slightly, for a moment catching the old shepherd’s mood, but then frowned again in dismay, “if it must be so, let it be so. Fare you well old friend, and thank you for everything!”

  “Aye lad,” said the old man, brushing away an unbidden tear, “now get ye gone ere one of us changes our mind!”

  The boy smiled warmly, or tried with his flaccid features, and then vanished over the nearest hill before his courage gave out or his heart betrayed him; the old man watched wistfully long after the boy had disappeared beyond a distant ridge.

  ‘Over the hills and far away,’ as innumerable old tales and songs were wont to say, mused the boy as he trudged along, but what sort of a story had he fallen into? It felt far more a nightmare or one of those ghastly tales told round the fire after the children were thought long abed. The grass was green upon the hills and the sun bright in the sky as the larks sang overhead, but the boy felt none of their joy, once so vital to his being. He suddenly realized that perhaps the old man had spoken truly, but rather than stealing his physical energy, the thing had taken his ability to enjoy life and the world around him. His heart lay as numb and cold within him as a seed in its wintry tomb, but perhaps his heart could bloom once more, as would the seed when spring came at last. But how?

  He shivered, for he knew he would not be alone in his pilgrimage, for the ancient shepherd’s assertion that he had not seen the last of such shadowy assailants was something he somehow knew true to his very soul. He turned his thoughts hopefully back to the picture of the seed in its winter slumber; there was so much hope and potential there, though it seemed so small and dead at first glance. Was that a picture of himself as well? Was there some potential there, some possibility that someone wanted to avert, corrupt, or destroy? But what and why? And who? He was a peasant, and worse, a shepherd. He was neither a warrior nor a sage, he had nothing that anyone could find even remotely interesting, let alone threatening. He glanced at his ashen hands and shook his head, but why go to such trouble, why not kill him outright? There came no answer but the soughing of the wind in the grass and the song of a lark on the wing, mocking in its beauty and joy. The boy trudged on.

  While the sun was out he felt a little joy, he could entertain hopeful thoughts, but as the afternoon wore away and
a thin veil of clouds obscured the stars, he felt his heart too draped in utter and inescapable night. But he did not cease his strivings, for even in the pitch dark, he found he could still find his way and his limbs were nowise weary though his heart was sore within him. He felt eyes in the darkness, watching him with contempt and scorn, laughing at the futility of his strivings; he could almost hear their mocking laughter, but he trudged ever onwards, determined not to give in to the fear and despair that were all about him.

  He stood at the crest of a great hill as the sun rose in a splendor of pink and gold, his disquiet night for a moment forgotten in a yearning for something that whispered from beyond the sun’s rising, from a place beyond the walls of the world he knew. Shaking himself at the uncanny thought, he descended the far side and vanished into the retreating mists in the vale below. So it went for three days: fleeting hopes were entertained while the sun was his merry companion only to be replaced by fear and dismay as the whispering dread of unseen shades and phantoms amid the night’s starless gloom took its place. Where he was going, Kyan did not know, but he pressed on with all his heart, strangely requiring neither rest nor water nor food and able to travel even in the darkest night. He knew very little of this strange world he now inhabited, save that the realm of mortal men was no longer his own, but he was naught but an indifferent observer upon the rim of something he could not yet comprehend, towards which he was hastening with all his being or perhaps fleeing from it; he didn’t know which, he knew nothing save that he must go onwards, ever onwards.

  That night his nightmares became horrifying reality, more so even than that fateful morning when he had been assaulted by a fiend unknown upon the misty hillside, for a great black-clad horseman loomed out of the gloom, the beast’s eyes glowing like angry coals in the night. “My master has marked you as his own, slave,” boomed the fell voice, “fulfill now your doom and destiny.”

  The boy shuddered in his inmost being with loathing and revulsion, knowing full well that this monster’s master, whoever or whatever it was, could not so easily lay claim to a mortal soul and that whatever betide, Kyan was not about to grant him power over his own. The boy fell to his knees in dread, buried his head in his arms, and quivered upon the heath, waiting for his doom to fall. Morning found him still huddled thus. He looked up in astonishment, for the grim horseman was gone! But with another shudder, he realized the choice was not, but still, it was a choice; he must choose, but he did not know what the other alternatives were, only that he would not choose the darkness. With a sigh, he gained his feet and began again his interminable journey into the very heart of an enigma.

  That night he looked upon the cold high beauty of the stars, the first time they were visible during his travels, and wondered if he might ever have the chance to join in their song, but alas, he was doomed to trudge the mortal earth yet never more to take part in its joy or sorrow. He might be wrought of flesh and blood, but he was little more than a ghost, a memory, a creature of dust and ash. He bowed his head for a moment and then cried aloud to the indifferent stars, shaking a fist, “what then is the point? Why could not death have been my portion! Why must I endure in this unending twilight, ne’er more to see the dawn?”

  An odd sound, as if a sparrow tried sorely to stifle his laughter, drew the boy’s attention back to the immediate vicinity and the glint of bright eyes in the starlight suddenly had his full attention. Said a magpie, perched at eye level in a weedy tree, in rather amused tones, “are you then omniscient lad, knowing all ends? What was and what will be and what might have been?”

  The boy dropped his gaze, chagrin strong in his voice, “I know nothing at all.”

  The bird did not hide his chuckle at this, but rather said in a pleased tone, “and that is the beginning of wisdom. Now as to your little problem, perhaps I can avail you. Are you certain you would have preferred death at the hands of your attacker? An ancient folk, forgotten now, buried their kings and great men under this very hill. Will you crawl now upon an empty bier and molder with them, forgotten in the dark?”

  The boy’s head snapped up and he met the bird’s eyes with an incredulous frown, “when you put it that way, I do not think that the better fate. But what then is to come of me? Why this interminable existence?”

  “It is not as I would have had it,” said the bird matter-of-factly, “but seldom do matters play out as I would wish in this broken world, sundered as it is from that which was originally intended for it. You were plucked out of place and time, driven from your mortal life before the Time when My Enemy discovered what it was I intended. He loves nothing better than to destroy or corrupt My plans, such has it been since before your world was. You have refused his overt attempts at intimidation, despair, and fear, but you have not yet made a choice. I set it before you now: you may choose death as your lot and free yourself of all this, for such is the birthright and doom of all men, you may still fling yourself freely into the arms of My Enemy and see what comes of it, or you may continue on in your journey, but rather than a nameless and clueless wanderer, I will give you a name and a purpose.”

  “I hardly know you, sir,” said the boy, trembling, but whether in wonder or dread, he could not say.

  The bird chuckled like a stream in flood, “nay lad, all men know Me, whether they would admit it even to themselves is another matter entirely. You may not know the particulars, but you know enough to make a decision. You felt and rejected the utter evil of My Enemy when confronted by his grim horseman, so is it you have known Me, or at least suspected something of the sort, all your days. Have I not written it upon your very heart? Do the stars not bear witness in their courses above? Does not the lark sing of it? Do not the new lambs upon the green hills testify to it? Did My Enemy not try to deaden your heart to that very song with his grim weapon? You do not yet know My Name, but I have always known yours. But I will not force you to come to Me, rather I would have you come running eagerly, as a lost child to his father.” He smiled then and the whole world seemed to laugh in very joy to see it, “for am I not the Father of all; He who wrought the very stars?”

  The boy was on his knees, tears streaming down his face as these wonderful and terrible thoughts assaulted him, quavered he, “but who am I that You would even look upon me?”

  “Have I not known you and called you Beloved, even before the stars were lit?” said the bird quietly, “did I not know, even then, that mankind would rebel against Me and that the price of reconciliation was death, even then did I not agree to pay that awful price?”

  The boy’s tears had ceased and he stared at this small, feathered creature with wide, aghast eyes, “the tales are true!”

  “Some of them,” chuckled the bird, “the most important ones, anyway. Some tall tales are just that. Now what of your choice?”

  The boy shook his head, gaped anew, and said, “how can there be any other choice? But I am so wretched and pathetic, what possible use could You make of me?”

  The magpie flitted to the topmost branch of the spindly tree and laughed merrily, “leave that to Me child, if I can form the stars out of naught, think what I could do with a willing heart! I have paid the blood price for your freedom, it remains only for you to accept it, if you will.”

  The boy goggled anew, remembering the tale as his aged guardian once told it, of the Prince and Lord of all creation and beyond, who had stepped into the broken, mortal world to take on flesh and the attendant sorrow and pain therewith. Of His life amongst the meanest and poorest of men, His words of life and encouragement, and the hideous death to which His jealous rivals put Him, but which was not the end of the story but only the beginning. For death itself died that day and all men could find hope at last, at least if they were willing to accept it. Kyan had thought it just one of many tales told round the fire of an evening, but he now knew, to his very soul, that it was also true. But how to accept such a great sacrifice on his behalf? How could he not? He knelt there b
efore the little bird and when he lifted his head, the creature was gone, but so too were the deadness and heaviness that had afflicted his heart since that dreadful morning. He stood then, the sun beginning to rise, and went his way rejoicing, so much so that a passing lark envied him in his joy. Not so the dark horseman hiding in the lee of the hill, he watched the doomed wretch with a malice and contempt he could ill contain. He smiled like death itself, for night would come again.

  Why had he never taken the tales seriously? Kyan stopped suddenly and frowned at an oblivious daisy as he wondered how it was that the thing that suddenly seemed the most important in life and beyond it was once little more than just another fairy tale to his thinking. He grinned wryly and set forth again upon his perplexing journey, knowing death had a strange way of putting the important things in life in sharp perspective. While he was not technically dead, he was lost evermore to the life he had once known. What lay ahead was anyone’s guess, yet he felt he could trust this One, who numbered the stars, fully in such matters, for did He not bring forth life and maintain it even in this fallen state? Had He not fully paid the price to redeem sundered creation and all therein? It was all so great and marvelous he could hardly take it in, yet his heart had never known such joy! He still resembled a walking corpse, but his soul was anything but dead within him. Had Spring come at last?

  So it was he went along all day, rejoicing as he never had before, despite his odd circumstances, but as evening fell and the shadows of night gathered round, he began to wonder if his natal faith could survive another such night. He was not surprised to see that grim horseman once more, glowering on the path before him, what little patience and forbearance the creature might once have possessed was forgotten in this treacherous wretch’s dealings with his fell master’s greatest foe. The boy would bend knee this night or he would die, there could be no other outcome. But instead of cringing to the ground in terror, the boy felt an inexplicable courage rising in his heart, had not his new Master the power to overcome just such a fiend as this?

  The horseman did not even bother to ask, he could see the rebellious fire burning in those dead eyes and knew there could be but one answer. He grinned in triumphant malice and raised his sword while the horse reared and screamed its fury as the boy waited for salvation to come. “No,” said the dark knight suddenly, sharply reining in his horse and sheathing his blade, “it will not be so easy.” His smile became malevolence itself, “if your master is so great and mighty, let him rescue you from this living death! Let us see if your faith survives a thousand years of such lonely and pointless wandering.” He cruelly spurred the horse, leaving Kyan alone in the night, frowning after the vanished horseman. He had hoped for salvation but not from the villain himself! It was all quite puzzling, and what was that about endless wanderings? Certainly he was not doomed to such a fate!

  With a shrug, he set forth anew but with steps less cheerful than they had been. The eyes and whispers still haunted his steps, their scorn and malice multiplied tenfold, as if they thought him the utmost of fools. He tried to ignore them but that only seemed to make their mocking scrutiny all the worse. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to trudge on when he wanted to simply lie down and despair. Where was his new Master’s joy when it was so desperately needed? But there came no answer and there was naught to do but walk on, ever on.

  Morning found the boy grim but determined to press on, all his former joy forgotten as if it was a dream upon waking, but he knew, somehow, that to turn back or give up could only end in tragedy, so he fought down his panic and concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other and repeating it ad infinitum. At least the shadows did not whisper when the sun graced the sky, and soon he felt his terror of the previous night melting away as he lost himself in the beauty of the day and the wondrous possibilities that lay at journey’s end.

  “Monster!” the cry of challenge rang in the dells and floated on the fitful breeze.

  Kyan glanced about anxiously, trying to see the fiend in question, but finally gave up and focused his attention on the knight before him with a quizzical frown, seeing no such creature, only then realizing the warrior’s stern glare was directed at himself. He raised his empty hands and said sheepishly, “please Sir Knight, I am no villain, merely a peasant lad fallen afoul of a grim curse.”

  The knight raised his faceplate and frowned in consternation at the boy, if boy he was. Said he, rather gruffly, “you are a well spoken fiend, if fiend you are. Only renegades and those that pursue them roam these wild highlands lad, what then are you doing up here alone?”

  Kyan could not help but grin impishly, “you yourself thought me a monster just now Sir Knight, and I am sure you have seen monsters and villains aplenty, what are the vast majority of more ignorant folk to think of me, who have little ventured beyond the confines of their own villages and fields?”

  “Truly spoken,” said the Knight, “but what is to come of this meeting?”

  The boy shrugged, “I am off upon an adventure sir, though I know little enough of what it entails, perhaps the very lifting of the curse that lies heavy upon me. What of you?”

  The knight nodded thoughtfully, “I rode out, adventure bent, though no particular errand or quest did I pursue. Perhaps I shall accompany you for a time, therein might lie adventure indeed.”

  “Gladly would I welcome your company Sir Knight,” said the boy with genuine warmth, “but am I a fit companion for such as you?”

  The Knight chuckled, “we are but two men together seeking what the world has to show us, what other difference matters?” He smiled broadly, “and in this uneven terrain, you can easily keep apace of my horse, even afoot.”

  Kyan did not say what he knew to be true, that even were they upon a broad plain, he could easily keep abreast of, nay outpace, a mounted man. He nodded eagerly and together they set off, sharing their stories as they traveled. The knight was a third son of a great lord and hoped to prove himself upon some valiant quest and earn his father’s regard thereby. Kyan suddenly pitied the youth, knowing that though he himself was a foundling raised by a penniless shepherd, he had never doubted the old man’s affection for him. Said he quietly, “will any valiant quest or even the greatest triumph earn your father’s love when he has been so disinclined to give it thus far?”

  The knight sighed heavily, “I know I shall never be the recipient of his love, if he has any to give, but rather hope at least to earn his respect, a thing too, which is seldom bestowed, but that is my only hope, but come now, tell me all your strange tale.” Kyan did, much astonishing his companion. Said the knight with a thoughtful frown, seeming to find the most unbelievable part of the tale the boy’s idea that some of the old tales were no doubt true, “I had never thought about those nearly forgotten stories in such a light! To think they might be true indeed? It is a peculiar world!”

  Kyan could not help but laugh, “yet you pursue dragons and ogres and other legendary creatures without a second thought.”

  The knight smiled ruefully, “I do indeed, I suppose what one man considers common and normal another may well think odd, if not myth indeed! Well met lad, well met indeed! Tell me more of these tales, if you know aught of them?”

  Kyan thought for a moment, remembering the many stories the shepherd had told round the fire down through the years, and said with a nod, “I know a few certainly, though I knew it not until this moment!” He then tried his hand at telling tales, having left the practice to the elder shepherd, but as he was absent there was no other choice. The stories captivated teller and hearer alike and reluctant were they to stop for the night in some hidden fold of the land, but the knight could not go on indefinitely without rest and Kyan was reluctant to leave his newfound companion behind, so they secreted themselves in a quiet dell, and once the fire danced merrily between them, Kyan continued his tales.

  As Kyan finally quieted, having no more tales of that particular saga to impart, the kn
ight mused, “I wonder if the tales told among my own folk are also true? They say these haunted wastes used to be a great and mighty kingdom that fell into darkness and eventually into dust.”

  Kyan shivered, “I have felt eyes watching me each night and heard whispers and laughter on the wind, mocking and scornful.”

  “Such has been whispered among my own kin, though never widely, for we do not fear the darkness or that which lurks behind it, yet these are bold men, seasoned warriors, who were greatly disturbed by such uncanny goings on,” said the knight quietly, “that is one reason I set forth for this place, for where such ghosts or fiends still lurk, certainly there must be the chance of great adventure and therefore renown.”

  Kyan shook his head in dismay, “I would fly from this place as fast as could be were I not bidden to continue on.”

  “Whither are you bound?” asked the knight, “for there is nothing but old ruins and relics of the past in this grim land.”

  “I don’t know,” said the boy, “but thither I must go, neither do I know what fate awaits me there, only that I must go forth to meet it.”

  The knight stroked his chin thoughtfully, “do you think your Master might have a use for me? Ever have I ridden forth upon some needful or useful quest, but only for my own glory or gain, not primarily for the benefit of those imperiled, though that was an inevitable consequence. It would be a pleasure to ride forth in the name of some noble and benevolent lord, rather than for my own glory.”

  The boy grinned wryly, “if He can find a use for a cursed peasant, the least of all men, He could certainly find something for you to do.” His eyes strayed up the hill where the rising moon was just visible, silhouetting an old ruin in weird shadows. “What is that, do you think?” mused he.

  The knight frowned off into the darkness, not having the uncanny vision of his companion, but the rising moon gave ample light to show what had caught the boy’s attention, or at least enough to cause a shudder to run down the knight’s spine. Said he in dread, “an old castle or fortress fallen to ruin, perhaps a relic from that long forgotten kingdom.”

  “No,” said the boy quietly, as if a scholar of ancient days, “it is older still. Shall we investigate?”

  The knight gaped at him, “you yourself were just talking of the specters that haunt these cursed hills and now you want to lose yourself in a crumbling fortress in the dead of night?”

  The boy frowned thoughtfully, “I do not think we have anything to fear in that old ruin, but rather the shades that haunt these hills are uneasy in its shadow. I want to know why.”

  “Your quest?” said the knight with a growing smile.

  Kyan grinned, “of course! Why else would I propose something so mad, I am no warrior after all?”

  “Very well,” said the knight, checking to see that his weapons were in place as he stood, “I did promise to accompany you, lead on then brave sir. I can’t believe I am doing this!”

  Kyan grinned his thanks and eagerness as he stood; they left the cheerful fire to hie themselves across the dark moor en route to the towering ruin. As they climbed, scrambling and slipping on scree and loose stones, a vile shadow suddenly loomed out of the darkness as the grim horseman towered over them, mocked he, as the pair huddled amidst the brambles in utter terror, “so you’ve found a friend in your doomed wanderings and even have the temerity to approach a site once held sacred by ancient fools? I think not, flee little mortals ere your foolish quest destroys you utterly.”

  The knight frowned, “what is up there that you don’t want us finding?”

  “The creature speaks,” sneered the dark horseman, “nothing but the dust of the bones of men, yours can lie among them if that would be your preference!”

  “We will ascend,” said Kyan quietly, “even though you bar the way.”

  The shadowy horseman shrugged, “have it your way little mortal, do not say I did not warn you. You are a fool to abandon my master’s call and prove it by going where none dare go, even in broad daylight.”

  “A liar, through and through,” said the knight coldly.

  The villain did not bother hiding his cruel laughter, “certainly, but in this case the truth is so much more amusing than any fabrication I could invent.” He turned his horse and vanished into the darkness.

  The pair exchanged a curious look, each shrugged, and then continued their ascent. The moon stood high overhead as they neared the gaping gates of the crumbling keep, illuminating the little tendrils of mist that crept blindly about the ruin and deepening the shadows therein. They exchanged another look, this one full of doubt and fear, they had not felt this much dread even while that terrible horseman loomed over them. “Perhaps this was not such a good idea,” said Kyan grimly, but he did not move, either back or forward.

  “Perhaps not,” concurred the knight, “but it was the right thing to do.”

  Kyan eyed him strangely, “how can foolishness ever be considered good?”

  The knight laughed, “did you not just tell me yourself that what most men consider foolishness, you have deemed the most important thing in the world?”

  “True,” said the boy with a thoughtful frown, “so I guess there is but one thing to do.” He took a step towards the ruin and suddenly all was darkness as the mist engulfed them so thickly that even the moon’s brilliance came to naught.

  “You were warned,” said a voice, not evil or repulsive, but stern and quiet.

  “Yes,” said the boy, “but a warning from such a source can hardly be borne.”

  “You have spirit,” came the voice again in ill-contained amusement, “you will need it, if you intend to go through with this.”

  “I do,” said the boy, from his very heart.

  “And you, sir?” asked the voice.

  “I will not be left behind,” said the knight boldly, little knowing what he was agreeing to but knowing it was a thing he wanted more than life itself.

  “So be it,” said the voice with all the finality of a closing door, and suddenly they could see and move once more.

  They stood in the midst of the ruin, the moon still rode high in the heavens and the mist had withdrawn to the corners of the crumbling keep. They glanced about quickly, but they were alone besides for the indifferent moon. “That was odd,” said Kyan, at last looking upon his companion, his jaw dropping as he fully took in the equally perplexed knight.

  The knight frowned at the boy, wondering what had so flabbergasted him, only then fully appreciating the changes wrought in his companion. He had taken to not looking directly at Kyan’s disturbingly deathlike visage, so it took him a moment and an overt act of will to do just that. He wasn’t a ghastly, living corpse any longer, rather the knight could see right through him, and by the boy’s reaction, Bayard assumed he was in a similarly insubstantial state. He smiled wryly, “quit gaping and let’s figure out what is happening.”

  Kyan shut his mouth with a click and studied his own misty form, a vast improvement, or so he thought, from the ashen grey waxiness of his flesh of late. He frowned, “we are ghosts?”

  “Do not be ridiculous,” sang the familiar voice of the magpie perched on one collapsing wall, “I do not allow souls to wander at will outside of their appointed place and time. You two brazenly walked into this old ruin, and even when given the chance to escape you stubbornly refused, thus you must bear the consequences of your actions.” He did not sound at all displeased, but rather vastly amused; He vanished with a flick of white feathers before they could voice their questions.

  They rose from their knees and exchanged a wondering look as the puzzle only became more convoluted. Said Bayard with a grin, “I had not expected this to be the adventure upon which I followed you, my friend.”

  “Adventure?” came the voice again, “hah! This is no adventure; this is but the beginning, the preface as it were. You don’t call putting your socks on of a morning an adventure, not that you’re likely to need socks after this...”
The voice trailed off into a thoughtful silence as two sets of eyes scanned the ruin for the source, but it took them several minutes, and the creature’s muffled laughter, to actually locate the speaker. They finally found a small lizard, grey as the surrounding stone, clinging to a cleft in the rock. “Not exactly what you expected, eh lad?” said the irrepressible creature to Bayard with a grin, “though nothing from here on out is likely to be anything like you expect. For instance, I’m not exactly what you’d think of when the word ‘dragon’ was mentioned.” They gaped at the creature and it chuckled, “see what I mean! Appearances mean nothing to you now, though it will take your minds a bit to work their way around such a concept.”

  Kyan glanced at his misty hand and then returned his gaze to the self-proclaimed dragon, “what are we?”

  The lizard rolled his eyes, “we have a very long way to go if I must begin at the very beginning.” Kyan’s eyes narrowed and the reptile laughed, “you are a man, now as you have always been and ever shall be. You’ve acquired a few useful skills perhaps, but you are still of the race of men.”

  Bayard queried, “we are dead?”

  The lizard’s mirth increased, “dead? Of course not, what nonsense! You have absolutely no use for that antiquated concept whatsoever.” He sobered but said eagerly, “nay lad, you are beyond death.” The pair exchanged a baffled frown and the reptile nodded, “so you knew absolutely nothing of this ere you ventured forth? That explains much.”

  “No,” said Kyan, “I only knew I had to come.”

  Bayard grinned, “and I felt a great urge to tag along.”

  “Well,” said the lizard, “I suppose I had best go easy on the pair of you, seeing as how you entered this service by blind faith alone and know nothing of what you have embroiled yourselves in.” He brightened, “but once you have learned what you must, I’ve no reason to treat you any differently than any of the others.”

  “Others?” asked Bayard eagerly, “we are not alone in this...whatever it is.”

  “Certainly not,” said the lizard, “far from it, for there are many fighting this war, some are men like yourselves, but we come from every race, time, nation, tribe, and kindred within creation and beyond it.”

  Kyan sat down heavily on a nearby stone, “we are to be soldiers? I know nothing of war or fighting!”

  “Easy lad,” said the lizard, “you’ll know what you must when you need it, and it is not as if this is a battle like your histories record with one army hacking at another with crudely wrought weapons. This is a war that spans all of space and time and the realms beyond: light versus darkness, good versus evil, and so forth. Our Master has already won the war, but His enemies have not yet surrendered or admitted defeat, nor will they until Time itself draws to a close, thus are we needed to fight them on many and varied fronts, wherever our strengths and talents lie and our Master’s will sends us.”

  Kyan eyed Bayard with a smile and said, “it seems you have your wish.”

  Bayard laughed, “and you my friend? Or was it ever your desire to herd sheep all your mortal days?”

  Kyan grinned, “I did herd sheep all my mortal days.” He eyed the self-proclaimed dragon keenly, “since falling into this disaster, I do not think I have had a mortal day since.”

  “Very good lad,” said the lizard in approbation, “I think you begin to understand.” He frowned, “a nasty bit of business that, but as you see, the ending still worked out as our Master intended, or shall I say, rather the beginning, for your adventures are only just begun.”

  “What strange quest have we embarked upon?” asked Bayard hopefully, unconsciously studying one of his mist-wrought hands.

  “Oh, we have not left quite yet,” said the lizard in amusement, “but we shall rectify that matter shortly. I have waited near a thousand years for you two to show up.” The boys exchanged an incredulous glance and then turned questioning eyes upon their host as the lizard laughed anew, “you weren’t quite what I was expecting either, but ‘His ways are not our ways,’ and who are we to question His provision? I will tell you my tale, at least enough for you to understand the quest that lies before us.”

  Eagerly did they seat themselves and turn glowing eyes upon the miniscule grey creature as he began his tale, “I told you I was a dragon, but that is not quite the whole truth. My father is indeed the King of the Dragons, a creature of incredible wisdom and power, its like not to be found anywhere else in all creation, but my mother was a unicorn.” They frowned in confusion at this strange assertion, prompting another laugh from the lizard, but he quickly continued his tale, “a strange pairing no doubt, but not impossible for creatures not doomed to spend their lives bound to one definite shape or guise, as are mortal men. Dragons, unicorns, and a few other of the more interesting creatures with whom you share creation have this ability, our natural forms not withstanding. Thus can I appear before you as a mere lizard, if I wish it. Now where was I, ah yes!

  The unicorns have no King, being such benevolent and wise creatures that no major dispute has ever arisen among them, thus my father could not have chosen one of their Princesses as a bride had he wished it nor was it a union of political convenience, though it rankled the dragons grievously to have him choose a unicorn over another dragon, but so he did, for she had captured his heart and there was nothing that would change his mind, even when a dire curse was laid upon the union by a dreadful warlock. They were married and lived many a happy year together until the birth of their only child, but alas, with my birth did the curse come to fruition. She did not survive my birth and it grieved my father sorely, but he could not blame me any more than he could himself, but rather the forces of evil received their proper due and he pledged his only son to the ongoing effort to undermine and destroy all such evil.

  I could have refused of course, but I have never wished it to be otherwise. I see little of my father, grieved as he is by the loss of my mother, a fact which is only complicated by the fact that I am both dragon and unicorn, yet also of neither race. I traveled far and wide, learning from any who would teach me, spending time amongst many and various folk, discovering the ways of the world. Eager to take up the fight to which my father had dedicated me, hoping it would give me a place and a purpose at last, I presented myself before these very gates, back when these lands were peopled. At one time this was a great and beautiful castle, filled with those dedicated heart and soul to our Master’s calling. Scribes copied His words to be distributed to all corners of the world, bards were trained in His teachings to spread the tales and songs across all creation, knights were taught to fight the darkness, and it was the center of culture and lore and civilization, at least among men.

  I studied here for a time, but the great kingdom in which the castle stood was slowly falling into darkness, begrudging this center of life and light as a canker in its very heart. At last, there arose a King who hated our Master and His Light above all else. They invaded the castle one moonless night, putting all within to the sword, burning the vast library and every paper, scroll, and book they could find before casting down the walls and towers, leaving hardly one stone atop another. I watched it all, wishing with all my heart to stop the desecration, and I certainly had the power to do so, but alas, I knew it was not to be, I could do nothing but sit and watch as the darkness seemed to triumph utterly that night, but for their audacity and wanton evil, the entire Kingdom fell under a curse: those who followed our Master or loved the ways of peace, felt a nearly irresistible urge to flee the night of the attack, and most wisely heeded the warning, but those that tarried or doubted or refused, found themselves facing the same doom as all in that terrible Kingdom.

  After the vile King’s triumph, he was in a festive mood and invited great and small alike to his royal palace for a week of feasting and celebration, with none exempted save at the peril of their own lives. So it was, the entire Kingdom, at least those who had not fled in the night, turned out for the King’s gala and at
the height of their merriment, the curse fell full upon them. Each and every one of them was reduced to a formless shadow, abhorring all light and life and joy, deathly afraid of the sun’s light and hating the light of star and moon and all those that could freely walk beneath them. They still hiss and mutter and moan in the shadows, emerging at night to taunt unwary travelers and lurking by day amidst the ruins and in the hollows of the land. Doomed to this interminable existence until a new king shall arise, one who shall reclaim these forgotten lands in our Master’s name and rule them again in wisdom and peace.”

  The boys were spellbound by the story and the lizard smiled broadly to see their captivation, finished he, “those that fled that fateful night and those abroad at the time of the castle’s destruction: the bards, knights, etc. continued to keep our Master’s name alive among men, and their descendants continue to do so until this very day, but so much have they dwindled in number and influence that most men now think the stories nothing but fireside tales with no bearing upon real life, but that is about to change. For the King shall arise and establish his Kingdom, but first he must go a-courting.”

  Kyan gaped and Bayard smiled slightly, “you have waited here all this time, and for us?”

  The lizard snorted, “not just for you, though you are vital to my quest, rather I had to wait for the appropriate time.”

  Kyan frowned, “what can we do for such a great and powerful creature? Why have you need of us at all? Why linger within the confines of this ruined castle for so long rather than going abroad and doing something, anything of use or import?”

  The lizard cocked his head, “doing something merely for the sake of feeling important or busy is utterly ridiculous and contrary to the very will of our Master, lad, if it is His will that you be patient and wait at a given time. And so it was for me, but no longer. As to why I have lingered here so long and of what possible use you can be to me, I am not so utterly powerful as you assume. Yes, my parents are fabulous and remarkable creatures in their own right and I have inherited much of their power and wisdom, but for all of that, we are still wrought of flesh and blood and vulnerable to the evil that yet mars creation, much as the curse laid upon my parents’ marriage shows. I would be a terrible foe to any mortal creature foolish enough to challenge me, but it is no living creature I fear.

  Nay, rather it is creatures wrought of shadow and death of which I am wary: willing souls who have sold themselves utterly into evil in exchange for power and what they think is immortality but is rather a living death. I have no power over such fiends.” His smile became grimly eager, “and that is your part in this tale.”

  Kyan gaped openly but Bayard laid a hand eagerly on his sword hilt, saying, “then let us begin the story, if we may.”

  Kyan shook his head vigorously, “why us? I, at least, am the least of all men!”

  The lizard chuckled, “easy lad, you will very soon find yourself quite surprised, I think. As to the why you in particular, that is not for us to know or comprehend, but the important thing is, you have said yes, and that is all our Master requires, trust Him to equip you as is required. This is why that fiend came after you and dealt you so grievous a curse. Our Enemy knew you were called to some peculiar service and would have you destroyed or better yet, corrupted, before you could enter it.”

  Bayard nodded thoughtfully, “the grim horseman?”

  The lizard shuddered, “so you have encountered at least one of the creatures of which I have spoken, besides your attacker of course?”

  “I suppose that awful horseman must be one of your undead minions of evil,” said Kyan, scratching his chin thoughtfully, “but why did he not make an end of me when he had the chance? He certainly tried to corrupt me, and seemed to hope I would one day despair, but never did he strike me down though he had plenty of chances to do so.”

  The magpie on the wall chirruped, “you were Marked, lad, as one of My own, as one set apart for My peculiar use. My Enemy thinks himself the true master of this fallen sphere, but it is not so. Though he tried to mark you as his own and intended only your doom, he failed to realize that you might yet choose Me over all else and that I might have plans for you other than death. The fiend made any number of excuses and rationalizations to himself as to why he never destroyed you utterly, but there was only one reason he did not strike you down: I had forbidden it. Now go forth boldly upon the quest I have set you, to which you have readily agreed.” He vanished suddenly and the two men rose from their knees while the lizard left his reverent crouch. They exchanged a wondering glance and then set forth without a word, eager to obey His parting words.

  The lizard hesitated on the brink of the ruin and turned back to face his companions, “this will never do! One of you must go forth before me, I have not left this crumbling castle since its destruction a thousand years ago, for it is forbidden that our Enemy’s servants enter its confines, thus have I been spared their predations when their fell master would love nothing more than to see me utterly destroyed, yet I would step forth as unwitting as a child with a wolf at the door!”

  Bayard drew his sword and went first with Kyan uneasily bringing up the rear, feeling an utter fool despite his Master’s recent encouragement. The lizard was suddenly a young man in his prime and boldly followed Bayard out into the waning night, a sword in his own hand. Kyan could not keep the eager grin from his face, doubts or no, and hastened after his companions, his own sword instinctively coming into his hand; he smiled at the weapon wryly for a moment and then vanished out the keep’s gaping gate.

  There were no monsters or murderous fiends waiting in ambush without, only a misty dawn. They all sighed in relief, though they had not known they had been holding their breath in dread, before exchanging a rueful gaze at their own timidity. Said the former lizard, “I suppose I have not properly introduced myself?”

  Bayard smiled, “you have told us quite the history, sir, but we have no name to go with your fantastic tale.”

  “You may call me Ithril,” said the man, “that is the most easily pronounced of my many names and titles.”

  “Shall we call you ‘Sire,’ ‘Highness,’ or ‘Prince,’ as well?” asked Kyan, his eyes growing wide as he suddenly began to comprehend that the creature before him was no mere lizard and that he had some great destiny to be about.

  Ithril chuckled warmly, “nay, nay, at least not unless formally necessary. We are each of us servants of our Master, no more and no less. The least of men and the most wondrous of dragons are each equally valuable in His eyes, who are we to treat one another otherwise?”

  Bayard nodded, “very well, though it shall certainly take some time to acclimate our poor mortal sensibilities to such a concept.”

  Ithril shook his head, an amused smile on his face, “but you have no mortal sensibilities to acclimate, my friend, for you are no longer a mortal creature. You have passed forever beyond death and time, though you have chosen to dwell for a while within the temporal sphere for my sake.”

  Kyan smiled slightly, a thoughtful look on his face, “we are still men, yet beyond death and time? Perhaps as our race was always intended to be?”

  Ithril shook his head, “none but our Master can know what your race was intended to be, had they not fallen from our Master’s grace in the morning of the world, but rather this is the guise in which you will serve Him in your current role.” He laughed, “but come my friends, you cannot go jaunting about the countryside like vagrant patches of mist and hope to be effective in your duties.” The pair exchanged a thoughtful smile and suddenly stood as solid and whole as their companion in the burgeoning light of day. Ithril nodded in satisfaction and then frowned, “now we must find ourselves proper mounts.”

  It was Bayard’s turn to smile, “I have a horse that will well suit you, just down the hillside if he has not wandered in the night.”

  “Excellent,” said Ithril as he began the descent.

  Kyan frowned at Bayard, “wha
t about us?” Bayard’s only answer was an infuriating grin, but suddenly Kyan understood exactly why he could smile thus. They hastened after Ithril, scanning the retreating mist for signs of hidden foes, but nothing worse than a startled rabbit disturbed their return to their camp of the previous night. They found the horse still hobbled where they had left him; he whickered eagerly upon sighting his master and snorted in confusion as he caught the odd scent of Ithril, having absolutely no idea what to make of the peculiar smelling man.

  As Ithril patiently worked with the horse, who was not lacking in mortal sensibilities, which were quite overwrought at the moment, no matter what had come of his former master, the boys were busy procuring their own mounts. Said Kyan with a grin, “I’ve never been aback a horse in my life.”

  Bayard laughed, “and I’m sure you’ve never held a sword either, but it seems you have already mastered that minor skill.”

  “Indeed,” said the boy, “too bad there is unlikely to be a use for my immense skill with sheep.”

  “Let us hope not,” said Bayard with a grimace of distaste, “but in this bizarre tale, anything and everything is possible! Now let us see if we can get ourselves properly horsed.” He raised a glowing hand as the thinning mist before him began to glow likewise, gathering itself into the form he wished it to take. A horse appeared suddenly, tossing his head and stamping his feet in impatience to be off, even as Kyan smiled in wonder as his own outstretched hand began to glow.

  A few minutes later Ithril rode up, having reached an understanding with his own beast, and said with a smile as he looked upon his newly mounted companions, “well met indeed, my friends. Now let us see what other adventures await us.” He turned his horse and cantered down the hillside, his companions having no choice but to follow after, though they thought the descent a little too steep for such a reckless pace. Bayard grinned wryly to himself, thinking he sounded far too much like his overcautious grandmother but he also knew that the Prince’s safety was his sole concern for the foreseeable future. With this grim thought, he urged his mist-wrought horse to a faster pace lest he be left far behind his companions.

  They found a game trail wending its way down the slope but were forced to slow as it paralleled a steep gully with weedy trees and thorny shrubs marching up the precipitous slopes on either side. As their pace became far more sensible and sane, Ithril turned his attention from the thrill of their wild ride to his companions, as Bayard asked, “what then is our mission in the wide world?”

  Ithril said with some combination of hope and dread, “did I not say I was going a-courting?”

  Kyan nodded, “you did mention it, but I fear it was easily overlooked in all the other strangenesses of the tale.”

  “I forget,” said Ithril with a grin, “that I have had a thousand years with little else to think upon whereas you have hardly had twenty years of life, if that, so of course it would be of little import to you, at least at first mention, but now it is of the utmost concern.”

  “Certainly,” said Bayard, “but upon which esteemed lady have you set your heart?”

  Ithril shook his head ruefully, “that I know not. I hope it will be a marriage of mutual affection as well as one of more practical and political concerns; I might perhaps search the whole world over to find her, but find her we must, for I cannot begin to rebuild this Kingdom without a proper Queen at my side. We shall go first to the ‘greater’ kindreds: the dragons, elves, and unicorns, and if none is found suitable, then we shall look to the kingdoms of men, first amongst the nobility but I will search the most humble shepherd’s cot if I must before I wed the wrong lady.”

  “That might take centuries!” said Kyan in surprise and concern. Ithril eyed him blandly, but a slight smile ruined the effect, as the boy blanched in embarrassment and laughed at his own oversight, “but then what is that to us?”

  “Exactly,” said Ithril with a broad smile, “it will take as long as it must, but we shall find our Queen eventually, and none of us need concern ourselves with the passing years, for old age is no threat to us. It is indeed a strange and wonderful world you have entered, my friends, but I forget that it has been less than half a day since you did so! But fear not, you shall soon learn to think as you ought.”

  Bayard said with a thoughtful frown, “you said we can tackle foes against which your sword is useless, but what of mortal men or even potential enemies we might encounter amongst these ‘greater’ kindreds? Are we of any use against such villains?”

  “All such foes will fall to me to deal with,” said Ithril thoughtfully, “though you can certainly help watch for such villains and warn me of any impending attack or even block such an attack should it come, but you cannot deal out even the most minor of injuries to any creature of flesh and blood.”

  Kyan grinned, “we are rather limited in our usefulness then.”

  Ithril said soberly, “nay friend, you can protect me from things against which I would otherwise be helpless. This restriction is placed upon you because you are no longer native to this world, as creatures from beyond the realm of time, you would otherwise prove too dangerous to those still trapped within its confines, thus are you rendered harmless towards mortal flesh, yet still able to vanquish those fiends who have themselves become unnatural corruptions and abominations within the created order.”

  Bayard’s brow rose, “I had not thought of it that way! I had little thought of any reality save that which is before us, yet of a certainty, we are no longer residents of this mortal sphere, though we may linger here a long while upon our Master’s business.” He grinned impishly at the Prince, “how does it feel to be in the presence of so intimidating a creature?”

  Ithril laughed outright, “you are about as terrifying as a baby unicorn, for you know as little of your new proclivities as the newborn and are by nature now just as genial. Whereas I am well aware of my powers and the uses thereof and am not bound irrevocably to another’s will, though by choice I have certainly bound myself thus yet by choice also can I turn away and do as it pleases me.” He gave them such a grim and ferocious look that Kyan unwittingly pulled his horse up short and fell a pace behind in his surprise, which caused both Bayard and Ithril to break forth into a very unregal bout of merriment, in which Kyan soon joined. Wiping away a tear, Ithril smiled broadly, “though in very truth, my friends, I am as harmless to you as you are to me.” His smile grew grim and eager, “though we are hardly so to our enemies, especially with our combined powers.”

  They continued to descend for several days, stopping occasionally to rest the real horse and his rider, though Ithril needed far less rest than a mortal man, but his companions didn’t need rest at all, though they were happy enough to sit around the fire and hear the many tales the Prince could tell of distant places and times, of folk strange and wonderful, some of which had vanished utterly from the world. And glad was he to again have merry companions with whom to share his journey. They felt the eyes in the darkness, but only a furtive glance here and there with nary a laugh to be heard, for the shadowy creatures dared not approach their fire for fear of both the Prince and his uncanny companions. They saw no sign of any other folk, either friend or foe, only the wind and the wild things kept them company.

  “Where are we going?” asked Kyan as they sat before the fire one night.

  “We shall first visit the Elves,” said Ithril quietly, looking off into the darkness, “their domain is the easiest reached and by it we can more quickly access the realms wherein dragons and unicorns dwell.”

  “You sound uneasy,” said Bayard.

  “Yes,” said Ithril, “I would not pay them this visit were it not necessary lest they feel themselves grievously insulted. Once they were a merry folk and dwelt happily within our Master’s keeping, yet over the years their hearts have grown cold and proud, and all but a few have rejected the Light they once knew. Their forests used to glow like a spring wood in the sunshine year round, but now they are as cold, d
ead, and grey as a winter thicket upon a cloudy twilight. I have little hope of finding a bride therein.”

  “What are you looking for in a Queen?” asked Kyan, hoping to change the subject.

  Ithril smiled slightly in thanks, saying, “above all, she must be a woman humble and pure of heart, dedicated utterly to our Master. Besides that, I would hope she is possessed of wisdom, gentleness, and grace.” His smile became roguish, “I would not be displeased to find that she is pleasant to look upon either.”

  “Of course,” said Bayard, far too blandly, sending them all into a fit of laughter, a happy relief after their contemplations upon the sad fate of the elves of that world.

  As they rode along the next day, Bayard asked, “how does one go about finding the elves? I do not think one can simply ride to their country as you can the kingdoms of men.”

  Ithril nodded, “you are starting to think like an immortal my friend, excellent! No, one must know when, where, and how to look for the various entrances to their kingdom, though any greenwood in the wide world might boast such a door, one must know exactly how to enter it for it to be of any use whatsoever. Theirs is a kingdom technically within the confines of the mortal world, but yet outside the influence of time and space, at least as mortal men are used to such concepts, thus can we also gain entrance to other realms from their own.”

  He glanced knowingly at his friends as sudden awareness dawned in both sets of eyes, Kyan said in wonder, “we are completely outside such constraints ourselves and can be any where or when, have we need of it.”

  Ithril nodded, “correct my friend, though I fear my company shall constrain you to a more mortal pace, for though I can move quickly from place to place and know a few shortcuts, I cannot yet flout the rules of this reality so easily as you.” Even so, they soon came to a forested vale in which Ithril hoped to find a door into the Elven lands. As Ithril scanned the glade before them, Kyan sat frowning at an old oak leaning precariously on its neighbors, a third of its roots pulled haphazardly out of the soil. Bayard followed his gaze and he too began to frown at the odd tree.

  Ithril shook his head in dismay and then turned to say something to his companions, frowned at their own frowns and then looked at that which had garnered such scrutiny. He grinned widely, “well done my friends! You have found it. Come, let us put this unpleasant errand behind us as quickly as possible.”

  The boys exchanged a shrug and followed their irrepressible leader towards the slowly toppling tree. The tree looked natural enough to a casual observer, but their strange eyes could look beyond the superficial to what truly lay beneath the surface. There was a door in the space between the two trees, invisible and intangible to mortal creatures, but locked and closed to those who knew where and how to look. A human child could walk through the gap in the trees and come out the other side a thousand times and be none the wiser, but having seen the door, the Prince and his companions must either pass through it or go around.

  Ithril sat his horse before the door and spoke in various and odd tongues, but the ears of his companions heard quite plainly commands such as ‘open’ and ‘swing wide,’ but nothing seemed to avail him. He sighed heavily and turned back to his friends, “perhaps when the moon comes out or in the light of the stars we shall have an easier time of it?”

  Kyan laughed, “it seems a rather inconvenient way to get into your kingdom, but I suppose it does wonders to keep out uninvited guests.”

  “That it does,” said a new voice, cold and mirthless as an old tomb.

  A grim party of elves surrounded them, bows at the ready, but no one in the imperiled company seemed the least concerned. Said Ithril quietly, “know you the secret of this door, sir?”

  “Who is asking?” hissed their captain, caution and fear tingeing his voice at the stranger’s boldness. Ithril steadily met the elf’s gaze but said nothing. The elf captain blanched, motioned for his men to drop their weapons, and bowed stiffly, “please forgive my impoliteness, Sire, for I did not know you at the first.”

  “Of course,” said Ithril quietly, “finding strangers upon your doorstep cannot be a pleasant experience, but I must speak with your King.”

  “Certainly,” said the elf, bowing again, nearly trembling in terror at the legendary creature before him, guised as nothing but a common man. Kyan and Bayard said nothing, but they did exchange a significant look at the elf’s apparent disquiet upon guessing the identity of their companion. Was there more to the story that they had not yet heard? But now was not the time for answers, for the elves soon had the door open and a few hastened through to make sure the way was clear, before the rest drew aside and bowed respectfully as the captain motioned for Ithril to enter.

  Bayard suddenly dug in his heels, causing his horse to spring forward and cut off the Prince, who shook his head ruefully at his own incaution and prompting a squawk of alarm and dismay from the elven captain, “what is this?! Will a mortal man dare to set foot upon our sacred soil and desecrate our entire realm? Do you not know it is death for such a one to enter unbidden? Can such rudeness to so great a personage be tolerated?”

  “Easy captain,” said Ithril quietly, “my companion must enter first to make sure the way is safe, a fact which I had forgotten in my haste. As to your other concerns, you will soon discover them to be moot. But what of my horse? He is of mortal stock, another fact I had overlooked until now.”

  The captain did not seem at all pleased, but out of respect for his guest, grated, “the beast will find himself blessed by his sojourn amongst us rather than cursed, though your companions risk the latter.”

  “How so?” asked Ithril, with a quizzical frown.

  The captain shrugged, “no mortal man can enter our bounds without the King’s leave else he will find himself unmade.”

  Ithril nodded that Bayard should precede him and then turned to watch the captain’s reaction. The elf first wore an offended frown as the impertinent man entered the door, but it was soon replaced by a malicious smile in anticipation of what was to come, but then a look of utmost surprise and annoyance graced his countenance as the man failed to dissolve into nothingness but merely grew misty with a disturbing inner radiance suffusing his being. Ithril hid his own amused smile and urged his horse through the door when Bayard nodded that it was safe to do so; Kyan followed close behind him with the remaining elves bringing up the rear.

  The elf captain gaped at the Prince’s two companions, but it was not his place to question who or what sort of eldritch creatures such an august personage chose to associate with, at least as long as they were not mortal men, and that was enough to satisfy the captain, at least for the moment. They formed up with elves ahead and behind and all-around with Bayard riding ahead of the Prince and Kyan directly behind him. The elves could move as briskly through their own woods afoot as their guests could ride at a trot, and soon enough they reached the leafy glade wherein the Elven King sat upon his throne, a wonder wrought of ancient grape vines and a hundred different flowering vines, for most of which Kyan had no name, for they grew in no mortal garden.

  Ithril drew rein on the edge of the clearing and dismounted, as did his two companions. The captain rushed to the King with his strange news and anxiously awaited the King’s command. The King heard him patiently and only a slightly raised eyebrow betrayed his surprise, but he soon sent the captain running back to the waiting Prince with instructions that the boy should approach the throne. Ithril stepped forward, bold as any boy in his own mother’s kitchen and nodded ever so slightly to the elven king, who returned the gesture in kind, though he eyed the two silent forms that ghosted behind Ithril with curiosity, annoyance, and surprise.

  Said the King, ignoring the boy’s odd companions and focusing on the Prince instead, “to what do we owe this auspicious visit, Sire?”

  Ithril said simply, “I am making a tour of the world’s various Kingdoms, Highness, in search of a suitable bride.”

  “Ah!” s
aid the King, brightening significantly, “it would truly be an honor for one of my royal daughters to be so chosen.”

  “Certainly,” said the Prince, “and happy would I be to find my bride among them.”

  “Of course,” said the King, his tone becoming cautious, “if you aspire to such a union, there are certain conditions that must be met.” Ithril merely arched an eyebrow as the King continued, “there are rumors, unsubstantiated of course, that you still cling to certain antiquated customs and I could not in good conscious allow one of my dear children to ally herself with such a backwards thinking individual, no matter his pedigree or station. But I am certain they are merely rumors, but if true, they can certainly be repudiated for such a prize. You must also abide by the advice of a certain individual that I will personally appoint to your advisory council, wherever you establish your demesne. Also, the lands and peoples over which you have influence will be ceded to me upon any breach of the above assertions or upon your own demise.”

  Ithril bowed deeply, “I fear we are at an impasse, Sire, for I cannot in good faith agree to any of that which you have spoken.”

  “A pity,” said the King, “for such a son-in-law could be quite agreeable to me. Alas that it cannot be!”

  Kyan suddenly leapt forward as a crossbow bolt buried itself in his chest rather than hitting Ithril. The boy gaped in astonishment and pain even as he dissolved suddenly into mist and moonshine; Bayard drew his sword and charged in the direction from which the attack had come, leaving the Prince momentarily alone with the startled King, who seemed more surprised that the attack had failed rather than that his guest had nearly been killed. Realizing his foolishness in abandoning the Prince thus, Bayard’s hand suddenly began to glow and Kyan appeared at his side. With a curt nod and a roguish smile, Kyan dashed back to Ithril even as the elven soldiers moved in to cut him off. Without a word, Kyan placed a glowing hand on Ithril’s shoulder and they both vanished in a flash of light even as another crossbow bolt flew through the place where they had been standing.

  Bayard found himself alone with the hostile elves and their frantically raving King. He gave up his pursuit of the hidden attacker and rather thought to fetch the Prince’s horse from the far side of the glade, but a horde of angry elven warriors stood between him and the beast. With a wry smile, he charged the throng and ghosted through them as if he were no more substantial than the mist of which he was wrought, his smile deepened as he knew it to be true and easily waded through the company as they futilely flailed about with their weapons. He took up the horse’s reins and vanished as suddenly as Kyan, leaving the elf king alone to fret and fume over his keen disappointment and to dread what sort of discipline his masters would mete out should they hear of this minor fiasco.

  The horse tossed his head in fear as they suddenly appeared on a twilit hillside as the first stars bejeweled the heavens, but otherwise the evening’s peace lay undisturbed about them. A sod hut lay off to the right in the darkling mist, smoke curling from its chimney. Bayard saw the beast settled for the night and then knocked upon the door, which was immediately answered by Kyan, who grinned like a maniac, the flickering light from the hearth casting his face into weird and ever shifting shadows. He beckoned for his friend to come in and quickly introduced him to the ancient shepherd busy getting a small repast together for his visitors.

  Bayard grinned widely, “so this then is home?”

  “Yes,” said Kyan with a heartfelt smile, “humble as it is.”

  Bayard turned questioning eyes upon Ithril, who seemed quite pleased with the arrangement, though it was hardly fit to house even his horse, said the Prince, “we have had quite the warm welcome, our gracious shepherd is far more hospitable than was our previous host.” The man blushed red, but kept his eyes focused on his work, pretending not to have heard.

  As Bayard settled himself, the shepherd finally looked up and caught Kyan’s eye, “I am sorry lad, but I fear some of you will have to bed down in the loft of the sheep shed, for your old pallet is occupied. One of the neighbor’s girls has come down with the pox, and as I’ve had it, I said I’d take her in until things change for the better or worse rather than risk infecting their other young ones.”

  “How ill is she?” asked Kyan in concern.

  “Bad enough,” said the man sadly, “the doctor won’t yet say whether she has a chance or not.”

  “Might I see her?” asked Kyan.

  The old man frowned, “whyever for? She needs all the rest she can manage and it is not as if you can do aught to help her.”

  “In that I think you are wrong, sir,” said the boy, a hopeful and eager light burning in his eyes.

  “Very well,” said the ancient shepherd, “I suppose it can do no harm, especially as you’ve somehow managed to avert your own doom, maybe you can truly help the poor lass.”

  They vanished behind a ragged curtain at the back of the hut and a sudden flash of light burst forth, followed by the man’s astonished cries, and the girl’s wide yawns. Ithril exchanged an amused and happy smile with Bayard as the trio emerged, the girl as healthy as she had ever been. She gaped upon seeing strangers and vanished back behind the curtain, refusing to come out until the shepherd had provided her with a basin of water and something to wear besides her sweat soaked nightdress. She emerged some minutes later, scrubbed and resplendent in worn homespun, but ready to engage the strangers in a night of merriment and conversation. The shepherd gaped anew but Bayard and Kyan exchanged a knowing look behind his back.

  As the night drew on, the shepherd caught his former ward’s eye and they silently withdrew from the hut for a private word, leaving Ithril and Bayard to entertain the young lady. Said the old man, once they were alone, “so what has come of your adventures lad?”

  Kyan smiled widely, “they have barely begun, sir.”

  “That’s what I thought,” said the shepherd, he sadly met the boy’s eyes, “so you have not come home to stay?”

  “No,” said the boy, “I have found my purpose and it is not to settle down and herd sheep.”

  The old man could not help but smile at this, “Jenna will be sorely disappointed.”

  Kyan gaped, “Jenna?! I thought she could not bear the thought of me without becoming nauseous?”

  The ancient shepherd laughed heartily and clapped the boy on the back, “it seems you have much to learn of women, my boy. She’s had her eye on you since you were both wee things.”

  An impish light entered Kyan’s eyes, “but I think she may be tempted to look elsewhere after this night.”

  It was the man’s turn to gape, “you cannot think her parents would let her run off with a man they hardly know? Your companion may be a fine lad in his own right, but even we hill folk have our ideas of propriety!”

  Kyan’s smile widened, “be assured that there is not a man of greater character or virtue in the wide world, sir. But it is only a fleeting guess on my part, I know of no partiality on either of their parts, but are not all young girls susceptible to a handsome face, especially a man who is well spoken and carries a sword?”

  “Every girl’s dream,” said the shepherd wryly, “perhaps you know more of women than I thought. That scamp will bear watching then.”

  “Scamp indeed!” said a new voice, as Ithril stepped fully into the moonlight that the shepherd might know him. The old man was mortified, vigorously working his crumpled hat in his hands in his dismay, but Ithril was both pleased and amused rather than insulted, said he, “I am glad to see you folk are so protective of your maids and likewise wary of strangers in these perilous times, but I tell you sir, you have nothing to fear from me, rather when you hear rumors that a King has arisen once more, you may heartily welcome them with joy as the very truth and rejoice in knowing you have hosted him in your own house and that your son serves him faithfully as companion and guard.”

  This was too much for the old man’s sensibilities and he was very soon lying senseless on the t
urf. Kyan gently touched the fainted man’s shoulder and a flash of light passed between them, rousing and reviving the astonished man. Continued Ithril once the man had gained his feet, “I will send for you one day, for a faithful and honest heart is rare indeed in these dark days, but only if that is your wish?”

  The man gaped openly, “but sir! I am naught but a feeble old man, unlearned in anything but the art of sheep raising.”

  Ithril smiled, “did I ask for an accounting of your skills and abilities, Master Shepherd? All I need know is if you are willing or not?”

  The man stared at his feet for a long moment and then met the peculiar young man’s gaze, “of a certainty, Sire, when you call, I shall come if I am able.”

  “As to that,” said Ithril eagerly, “we shall soon rectify that minor inconvenience. You can also do me a great service in the interim, warding this district, and particularly a certain maiden, from fiends such as that which assaulted your lad here. Are you still willing?”

  The old man gaped, but quickly went to one shaky knee before this enigma before him, speaking as some apparition out of the old tales. “Very well then,” said Ithril, “you shall be knighted into my service this very night.” He eyed Kyan significantly, the boy was for a moment taken aback, but soon hastened forward and stood beside his master, anxiously awaiting further instruction. Ithril turned again to the kneeling man, “you do know that though I am a long prophesized King, I am but a servant of the Greatest King of All? And any true servant of mine must also be His?” The old man nodded, a shudder of terror and joy running down his spine. “Very well,” said Ithril, nodding at Kyan.

  The boy for a moment looked rather nervous, but then an eager light flared in his eyes and suffused his person. The ancient shepherd gasped, as the boy seemed alight from within, but did not flinch back as Kyan laid a firm hand upon his shoulder. Suddenly the light leapt from one to the other, until the scene was too bright to look upon. As the light subsided, each remained in their previous positions, the man still on his knees, but utterly changed. He exchanged a wondering smile with the boy and then turned a fervent gaze upon his new master, saying as he rose, “I stand ready to do your bidding, Sire.” He bowed deeply and the Prince smiled broadly in reply.

  When the three returned to the sod hut, it would appear to any casual observer that nothing at all interesting had passed between them that night though one life had been utterly changed forever. Bayard stood eagerly as they entered, but Jenna was long asleep in what had once been her sickbed. Said the Prince quietly, “I will retire for a few hours but we must away ere the sun’s rising.” He left his companions to speak quietly of all that had passed since the odd tale was begun. Jenna was still abed when Ithril awoke and chivied his minions into their saddles, saying in parting to the now ageless shepherd, “ward well the girl, I do not know what the future holds for her, but perhaps it shall be wonderful indeed. Fare you well, my friend!” They turned their horses and rode off into the misty gloom before the sun’s rising, leaving the former shepherd to abide by his King’s parting command with an irrepressible hope and ineffable joy welling in his heart.

  “Would you marry a shepherd girl?” asked Kyan as they rode along, his boldness amusing Ithril no end, for any other creature that was even remotely familiar with such a legendary personage would shudder even to breath in his presence, but then this lad was quite unfamiliar with the legends and had first known him as nothing more dreadful than a talking lizard. It was rather refreshing.

  Said the Prince after a thoughtful silence, “if that is my Master’s will, certainly I would, but none can know what her future will hold, save the Master Himself.”

  Kyan sighed in relief, “far better you than me!”

  Ithril chuckled, “I am happy to know you are not jealous that I might perhaps steal your sweetheart.”

  “Sweetheart indeed!” laughed Kyan, “I have ever known her as ‘that annoying girl who lives over yonder.’”

  Bayard laughed, “that would be an unfortunate title should the poor girl one day be Queen hereabouts!”

  Ithril nodded gravely, “and I would have to deal severely with the one who gave it to her.”

  Kyan bowed his head, “I am at your mercy, Sire.”

  Ithril barked a laugh, “you are the scamp, sir, not me!”

  “Things shall be as they must,” said the boy with an impish grin, before humor wracked the entire party and destroyed all chance at conversation for a very long time thereafter.

  Whatever remained of their fading mirth vanished utterly when Ithril sharply drew rein, sitting his saddle as if he meant to spring from it at any moment, his eyes taking in every detail, and had he ears capable of it in that form, they too would be pricked and on the alert. His companions too sensed something, though they yet had no name for the sensation as of yet, so new to this service and strange world in which they now dwelt. Ithril said quietly to his curious friends, “something dreadful comes.”

  “That bad?” said Bayard just as quietly.

  Ithril could not help but smile wryly, “I did not say it was either good or bad, only dreadful, something or someone of immense power and age.” His smile deepened, “there are many that would think just that of me.”

  At last, whatever it was, stepped out of the concealing mists, and had their horses been anything but two mist wrought phantoms and a mortal beast that had had the benefit of dwelling for a moment amongst the elves, they would have panicked and fled at the merest hint of such a creature, but as that was not the case, they stood there as if rooted to the earth, allowing their riders ample chance to study the approaching presence with much awe and eagerness, for here was a unicorn in all his unveiled glory. He paused, studying them with as much intensity and keenness as they him. He bowed his head slightly and said, “greetings Prince.”

  Ithril bowed his head likewise, “good morning, Elder. How might we be of service?”

  “Nay, nay,” said the wondrous creature, “it is rather I that am to be of service to you, though perhaps my message will not be that which you would wish to hear; at least it will spare you some trouble upon a futile quest.” Ithril nodded and the unicorn continued, “I bring word from both your father and your mother’s kin, that there are none amongst either kindred that wish to enter into such a union as you currently pursue.”

  “My mother’s fate?” said the boy sadly.

  “Perhaps in part,” said the venerable creature quietly, “but rather I think there are few amongst us who wish to leave our native realms to dwell amongst men, even be it as a Queen.”

  “Not surprising,” said the Prince, “I thank you for your timely message.”

  “What is time to us?” snorted the amused unicorn.

  “True,” said Ithril with a wry grin, “I have not troubled the world for near a millennium and still things have little changed, save the names and borders of the Kingdoms of men. Would you convey my greetings to my father and mother’s kin when next you meet?”

  “Certainly,” said the awesome quadruped, “and may the Master bless your search and future reign!” He bowed his head once more, turned as if to go, and was suddenly gone, even from their keen perception.

  Said Ithril, turning to his companions, who snapped their jaws shut sheepishly as his gaze fell upon them, “was it not as I said?”

  “And far more,” said Kyan in wonder, “though we so little apply a positive implication to terms such as dreadful and awful.”

  “Certainly a shortcoming amongst mortal men in these latter days,” said Ithril with an amused smile, “and perhaps the first order of business when I establish my reign.”

  “Grammar reform?!” said Bayard in dismay, “and here I thought we were off on an interesting adventure.”

  “We’ll have the adventure first and settle down to politics later,” said Ithril with a chuckle, “if ever. At least I need not waste our time or effort touring the lands of my kin.” He watched his companions carefu
lly and smiled at their disappointed reaction, “easy lads, you’ll have all of time and beyond to see such wonders, but for now duty calls.”

  “Where next shall we go, Sir?” asked Kyan hopefully, eager to see what the civilized portions of the mortal sphere looked like. He could not help but smile at the irony of having visited the fabled Kingdom of the Elves but never having glimpsed even the humblest city of men.

  “As we have visited your home,” said Ithril, eyeing Bayard questioningly, “perhaps we should also see that of our remaining companion?”

  Bayard shook his head, “nay Sir, my father is in nowise so welcoming as Kyan’s.”

  “No doubt,” said Ithril with a grim smile, “but I promised to search every shepherd’s cot if I must, but we shall start with the rulers of men, of which your father is counted, is he not?”

  “Certainly,” said the boy, “just as long as you know not to expect much of a welcome.”

  Ithril nodded, “perhaps our dear shepherd will prove the merriest host we shall meet amongst mortal men, I hope not or this shall be an interminable search indeed. Lead on then, Sir Knight.”

  Bayard frowned slightly at this, not knowing exactly where they were or how to get home from that particular place, especially as the morning mists still draped the hills in a moist, wooly blanket. But then a sudden thought occurred to him, for if the unicorn, a mortal creature for all his immense age and wisdom, could manage such a feat, why couldn’t he? Turning his horse and catching the eyes of his companions, he nodded, and suddenly the whole world shifted about them. They rode out of the woods on the verge of a great market town over which an ancient fortress hulked on a great hill like some colorless buzzard.

  Kyan rode up beside him and smiled, “how did you know we could do something like that?!”

  Ithril laughed, “he didn’t, at least not until I asked him to do it.”

  Kyan smiled merrily at his friends and then turned his gaze back to the bustling town, “so this is civilization.”

  Ithril shook his head in amusement, “I see you are far more overawed by a mere market town than by either the Kingdom of the Elves or seeing a unicorn in all his glorious splendor.”

  Kyan’s grin was fit to split his face in two, “or an undead knight or talking lizards or a living corpse or haunted ruins...”

  Bayard could not contain himself, “I can certainly see how a modest city of men must seem astounding by comparison!”

  “For a man who has seen many strange things in the wide world,” said Ithril, his grin most impish, “you’ve seen nothing of the world at all.”

  “Quite true,” said Kyan merrily, “that is what you get for trying to make a Knight out of a hill shepherd.”

  “But we have made a proper Knight of you,” said Ithril with a broad smile, “else you would not be accompanying such a grand company upon so vital a quest.”

  “Truly?!” said the boy, both pleased and overwhelmed at the prospect.

  “Certainly,” said Ithril, “else these great men upon whom we shall soon have the temerity to call would never deign to give us an audience. A Prince must certainly have a proper escort.”

  Kyan’s eyes were wide enough to fall from his head as Bayard shook his head and laughed, “a hill shepherd through and through, but come, we had best be on our way if we want to make it to the fortress ere the gates are shut for the night. They won’t open them after dark, not even were the King to call.”

  “Not that it would keep you reprobates out,” said Ithril, urging his horse forward, “but I would rather not spend the night out of doors.”

  Bayard cocked his head, “but did you not spend a thousand years as a lizard in that old ruin?”

  Ithril chuckled, “true, but I doubt your father would see fit to give one of your sisters in marriage to a lizard.”

  “It depends,” said Bayard with a slight smile, “on how rich and powerful said lizard is.”

  “I see,” said Ithril with a frown, “troubling thought indeed.”

  They rode on silently, Kyan gaping around him like the yokel he was, Knight or not. But as they quit the town and ascended the hill, on which sat the old fortress like a wart on a nose, every face grew sober and grim. Bayard had forgotten the ambiance of his ancestral home and glad was he to have abandoned it for greater things, far greater than he could even begin to imagine. They stopped outside the outer gates, with many a grim soldier eyeing them stonily, hands on their weapons, but suddenly someone recognized his lordship’s third son and bellowed orders, letting the small company pass.

  Only then did Kyan actually look at the party itself, for they were all clad as both men of action and of no little substance. Bayard smiled at his friend’s appraisal, “we’ll need to be both rich and skilled in the warrior arts, or at least appear as such, if we are even to be allowed an audience with my father.”

  Ithril nodded, “as we must with most of these great lords.”

  As they rode into the courtyard and dismounted, Bayard asked quietly, “and who will you say that you are, to these men of power and renown?”

  “I am simply a Prince out of the north, intent on finding a bride worthy of one day becoming Queen,” said he quietly, “and I am far from lacking in power or wealth. Though my Kingdom currently lies in ruins, but we shall not mention that, at least for the moment.”

  Bayard shook his head, “my father is shrewd enough to ferret it out if he must; he is not one to be content with vagaries.”

  Ithril’s smile became dangerous, “then perhaps he is a worthy foe.”

  Further conversation was impossible as the Steward came running up, immediately confronting Bayard, ignoring his companions, “have you accomplished something of renown, Sir? Your father will be far from pleased if you have not.”

  Bayard fended the man off and directed his attention to Ithril, who nodded slightly and said, “I fear you are quite mistaken sir, for this visit is of my doing. I have taken your lord’s son into my service and he merely accompanies me upon this visit of state.”

  “I see,” said the Steward, though obviously he did not, “and who may I say is requesting an audience with our esteemed lord?”

  “A Prince out of the North,” said the boy with a regal bearing that defied his boyish appearance.

  “Very well,” said the Steward, half in awe and half in offense, “I shall inform his lordship, but he is a stickler for details and if you will not even give your name, I cannot say that he will be bothered with seeing you.”

  “Things will be as they must,” said Ithril indifferently. As the Steward flounced off, he said conspiratorially to his companions, “besides, we are not exactly here to see the lord himself, merely the ladies of his keep.”

  Bayard cocked his head, a half smile on his face, “so even if you are not allowed to go skulking about, that is no impediment to us?”

  “Of course,” said Ithril with a laugh, “a Prince can’t just go skulking off whenever the mood strikes him, that’s what he has minions for.”

  “How are we to find you a bride?!” said Kyan in surprise, “I thought we only had to protect you from things that go bump in the night.”

  “Careful lad,” said Ithril in mock severity, “or next I’ll have you acting as my secretary or blacking my boots.” More seriously, he continued, “you need only watch for a lady of upstanding character, that is all, and even a hill shepherd can handle that.”

  “Alas that you don’t need my help in buying a sheep,” said Kyan with a grin, “but I suppose I can adapt.”

  Just then the Steward hastened back, saying in some surprise, “his lordship will dine with you this evening. Please follow me and I will see that you are settled, Sire.” The last was almost a question, but they handed over their horses to the waiting grooms and followed the officious little man into the keep.

  They dined privately with his Lordship that night, he sat at the head of the table, studiously attending to his food and saying little to his guests, but Kyan
felt those keen eyes upon each of them, studying, weighing, guessing their true identity and errand. At last, when the last of the plates was swept away by the servants, his Lordship leant back in his chair and took a long draw from his pipe, eyeing his guests in grim amusement, said he, “so you have come forth to reclaim the haunted wastes and want one of my daughters to languish there as Queen of a nonexistent realm? You are bold, but not wise.”

  “Indeed,” said Ithril, bland as tepid water, “you have deduced much Sir, but perhaps not all.”

  “I must deduce everything, boy!” said his Lordship with rising ire, “for you will not even deign to tell me your name!”

  “And that is as it must be,” said the Prince quietly, “but one day it will be known in every hovel and castle between the eastern and western seas.”

  A mocking laugh echoed in the dark corners of the stuffy room, said his Lordship with a scoff, “bold indeed! But tell me how it is you plan to people your Kingdom, Highness?” The last was said with such a slur as to make it an epitaph worthy of the lowest stableman in a foul mood indeed.

  Ithril could not help but smile wryly, “that will be left to Providence, Sir.”

  “I see,” said his Lordship grimly, then eyeing his son, his first acknowledgement that the boy was anything more than another nameless man at arms, “and what sort of desperation drove you to ally yourself with this Prince of Paupers?”

  Bayard shrugged, “a more worthy master I could never find, Sir, did I search the whole world over. I am sorry if you do not see the honor of my current position, but it suits me very well indeed.”

  “You’re a servant through and through then,” smiled his Lordship maliciously, “and as I always said, and will ever say, a disgrace indeed! I bid you good night gentlemen, and please have the decency to leave on the morrow as soon as the gates are open.” He then withdrew, leaving the servants to see to the needs of his guests.

  Once the Prince was ensconced in a rather stuffy little room for the night, he felt at ease to speak freely with his minions, said he, glancing ruefully about at the least of all guestrooms, “the housekeeper probably has a better room.”

  Bayard snorted a laugh, “certainly, Sir, only the worst of my father’s ill-favored guests are given these particular quarters. What of our mission?”

  “It remains unchanged, even though your father is indifferent to my proposal,” said Ithril eagerly, “off with you lads, see what you can find, for we are bidden to leave ere the sun’s rising.” The pair exchanged an excited smile before vanishing from both sight and the Prince’s humble abode. They reappeared only a moment later, at least to Ithril’s perception, each shaking his head and a grim expression marring his countenance.

  Ithril could not help but smile, “that bad, eh?”

  “Worse!” said Kyan in disgust, “I have never beheld so miserable and small-souled a folk!”

  Bayard agreed, “I had forgotten what home was like, and am grateful that it is so no longer. My father’s cruelty, pride, and miserliness either crush the spirit of his servants or encourage similar vice amongst them. You will find no suitable bride here, Sir.”

  “As I thought,” said Ithril with an unconcerned yawn, “but the visit was not without its value, for I now know the measure of this particular lord and all his folk. Even if I do not find my bride amongst the great lords of men, at least I will know what to expect of each particular ruler and realm.”

  Kyan grinned like the imp he was, “I knew there must be an ulterior motive.”

  “Not ulterior,” said his master, “but rather let us say we are multitasking.”

  “As you wish it, Sir,” said Bayard, barely stifling a laugh, added he with a grand bow, “so shall it be.”

  Late that night, his lordship called his eldest son to him. He smiled proudly upon the dreadful warrior that strode boldly into his presence, said he without preamble, “there is some upstart Prince about the keep. Your youngest brother has taken it into his head to gad about the countryside with the rascal, and he even has the temerity to ask after the hand of one of your sisters. See that these impugners of my honor are dealt with.” The Knight bowed, a horrible smile on his face, cruel and eager, and left his father to settle the matter immediately.

  He roused one of his many pages from a sound sleep and ordered the boy to learn what he could of the upstart Prince and his companions from the other servants and menials about the place. The boy squawked in dismay and fled his master’s presence, wondering again why he ever felt he could serve such a man. There could only be one reason for such an inquiry and it boded ill for the strangers in the keep. He dashed off to the foreign lord’s door, at the very back of the servant’s quarters, so perhaps his master would assume he was rousing witnesses from their beds in order to question them.

  He knocked desperately, knowing his master would not take such a betrayal lightly but also knowing he could not live with himself were something to happen to the foreign prince and he had done nothing to stop it. It was an impropriety of the worst sort, disturbing the nobility at that hour, even one foreign born, but murder was an even greater indecency so perhaps the strange lord would overlook this grievous breach of protocol. The door opened immediately and he ducked into the room without permission or explanation, the curious occupant closing it tightly behind him and looking at the boy in both curiosity and amusement.

  Said the boy after a cursory bow, “forgive my disturbing you at this hour, sir, but my master, the Lord’s own son and heir, means some mischief towards you and yours and I had to warn you.”

  Bayard studied the boy anew, “I thank you for the warning.” He smiled wryly, “not that I expected any less of my brother or father.”

  The boy flinched, “the rumors are true then? You are the master’s youngest son?”

  “I was,” said Bayard with a sigh, “but after this bit of nonsense I suppose he’ll disown me entirely and disavow that I was ever born.”

  Just then the door burst open and said elder brother strode into the room, sword bared, “ah, brother, just the man I wanted to see.” He glared at the mutinous page and added, “along with this traitor. Now go fetch your so-called Prince and we’ll settle this matter here and now.”

  “You’ll just have to deal with me,” said Bayard stonily, “no matter how hard you look, you won’t be find him.”

  The villain smiled cruelly and hefted his sword, “we’ll see about that, brother.” As he spat the last, he ran his insolent sibling through the heart, turned upon the helpless page, ransacked the miniscule room, and stormed off in search of his remaining quarry.

  The page thought himself in some sort of moribund delirium as he lay there dying and watched the laws of reality unravel about him. His former master searched the apartment, but in vain, before striding violently from the room, but that was no surprise, rather the moment the door slammed behind the retreating knight, the whole world went mad. The boy lay at such an angle that he could watch a small lizard emerge from its hiding place beneath a garish sofa, but suddenly it was not a reptile but a man, the very Prince the furious knight was even then seeking with all his might. The foreign lord ignored his slain minion but looked sadly upon the mortally wounded page. He glanced significantly off to one side and the boy strained his neck to look at what had caught the Prince’s attention.

  The boy gasped, for it was one thing for a lizard to become a man, it was quite another for a man to appear out of thin air! Kyan caught his lord’s eye and nodded eagerly, kneeling beside the dying page. The moment the Knight touched the dying lad, the pain, shortness of breath, and gnawing darkness immediately fled, but Kyan did not rise from his crouch nor remove his slightly glowing hand from the lad’s shoulder. Ithril then addressed the astonished boy with a slightly amused smile, “it seems you have thrust yourself into matters even your great lord can hardly begin to fathom. Will you join us?”

  “Us, Sire?!” said the boy, half eager, half terrified.
r />   Ithril smiled upon his companions, living and dead, “I am in need of a faithful man in this place, to keep an eye on things and ward it against certain minions of darkness.”

  “I do not understand,” said the boy, his eagerness overcoming his dread, impatient to hear more of this enigma.

  “Of course not,” said the Prince, his smile vast and amused, “this is a fairy tale after all and it would not be such if you knew every plot twist ere the story was begun. You think yourself a dead man, but what if you might live again, but rather as one beyond death?”

  “It is not possible!” said the boy breathlessly, but then he had just been privy to some rather strange demonstrations, so who knew what was possible for his uncanny companions? Then a disturbing thought occurred to him as he studied the strange Prince anew, frowning in consternation, “can I trust you sir? My former master was certainly a man of vile character, do I ally myself with another such? And if things are as you say, does that not imperil my immortal soul?”

  “Excellent questions all,” said Ithril with a satisfied nod, “no servant of mine, at least in this curious service, can be anything but a veritable servant of the Master, Whose I am also.”

  The boy exhaled in delight, “then be it unto me as you have spoken sir, I am quite desirous of unraveling these riddles with which you have presented me and I do not think sitting here gabbing about it will assist me in the least.”

  “Well said,” replied Ithril with a chuckle, “they’ll anticipate finding a pair of dead men in this room and thus we must abide by their expectations, but once you waken, you’ll know what to do. Find yourself a position within the keep and ward it well in my name. I will summon you to give an account of all that has happened here when all is accomplished, which may be one day hence or centuries by mortal perception, even I do not know the day or the manner in which all is to be achieved, only that Prophecy says it must.” He nodded to Kyan and immediately everything was wonderful, glorious Light, and then utter darkness.

  They left Bayard where he lay, knowing he would catch up when the opportunity presented itself and that he must likewise play the corpse, that mortal sensibilities not be too grievously offended on the occasion, not that the Prince disappearing utterly from the keep with none the wiser would sit well with his Lordship, but that minor inconvenience could in nowise be helped. “To the stables first,” said Ithril with a smile to Kyan, “I would not leave my horse behind, I’ve grown rather fond of him.”

  Kyan laughed, “and a beast that has acquired a bit of the wisdom of the elves is a rare creature indeed, at least in mortal lands.” He held out his hand, “whenever you are ready, Sir.” Ithril touched the outstretched hand and both vanished as if they had never been, stopping briefly in the stables to collect their mounts, and then vanishing again as quick as thought. The only groom awake at that hour scratched his head in dismay, blinked twice at the strange vision, and then cast aside the flask from which he had been sipping for most of the night.

  They reappeared on a misty hillside, bright beneath the moon. Bayard appeared not a moment later and smiled in vast amusement at his companions, “I hope I did not long delay you, Sir?”

  “Not in the least,” said Ithril with a welcoming nod, “but we have the entire world to search, though we have all of Time to be about it, I’d rather not spend too long in idle conversation.”

  Bayard laughed as he gained his saddle, “as you wish it Sir, so shall it be.” They turned their horses as if to ride down the hill but rather vanished like shadows in the sun.

  So it was that they roamed the Kingdoms of men, ever in search of a potential bride for that strange and mysterious Prince. In each land, realm, and village, no suitable lady was ever found, but a newly minted Knight found himself warding his former home for his new lord from any undead minions of evil that felt inclined to interfere in mortal affairs ere the Prince vanished from that place.

  Once the holdings of the great lords and kings of men had been exhausted, they began to comb the remoter villages and scattered settlements, straying even into the wilderness in search of she who must be found, but still no lady would avail them. At last they came again to a certain sod hut upon a forgotten hillside just as the sun was on the rise, their journey having taken centuries yet only a single night by the old shepherd’s count of days. He hastened from his cot, spry as a new lamb on spring grass, and went to greet his returned lord, though they had not been long sundered, at least by his reckoning.

  “Ah,” said Ithril in satisfaction, “Master Shepherd, I see you have faithfully awaited my coming, but how long has it been to your sensibilities?”

  “It is the morning after you left, Sir,” said the man in wonder, “and yet you’ve sought the whole world over?”

  “Indeed,” said Ithril with a wry smile, “only to return to the very place our journey began, some hundreds of years by our count, but only hours to yours. The lady is well?”

  The formerly ancient man chuckled, “still sound asleep and as fit as the moment you left her, Sir.”

  “Good,” said Ithril with a pleased smile, “then I shall send my companions off to prepare the way for our coming whilst I plight my troth with the lady and beg her father’s blessing.” Kyan and Bayard exchanged a concerned look, at which their lord laughed and said, “I will be well attended by this good shepherd whilst I go a-courting, lads, there’s no need to look so grim about my safety.” But they knew how dangerous had been his wanderings, how many scrapes, traps, and ambushes he had barely escaped, but they also knew they could not watch over him forever and must trust his fate and safety to their Master as ever they had entrusted their own.

  But before they could vanish upon the errand just set them, a lilting voice sang out, “what are you fellows doing out in the damp and wet of dawn? Come in and eat something, you’ve less sense than your sheep!”

  Kyan exchanged a wry grin with Ithril, “your lady awaits, Sir.”

  Ithril chuckled, “she already knows a thing or two about being Queen, or at least about giving orders. We had best obey.” He winked at Kyan, “that and I wouldn’t mind seeing how she treats my competition.”

  Kyan winced, “as you wish it, but would you rather not send me on some vital errand to the antipodes; I am sure there is some dire quest that must be attended to this very moment?”

  “I would not miss this for the world,” said Ithril with a grin, “but come, it is rude to keep a lady waiting.” With one accord, they turned back towards the hut and breakfast, each trying desperately to maintain a neutral mien.

  They ducked into the dim interior of the shepherd’s cot and settled down to the simple but substantial meal before them; it was a lively meal for them all, the girl’s blushes at the stranger’s marked attention not hindering her tongue in the least nor did it keep her from glancing at Kyan now and then just to see if he noticed and his reaction thereto. She was rather disappointed to see only vast amusement sparkling in his eyes, rather than any sort of worry, concern, fear, or anger that another might be courting in his stead. If that was how he felt upon the matter, then she too could feign indifference and show this charming young stranger that his interest was not unwelcome.

  The meal finished, Ithril stood, stretched, and said, offering the maid his hand, “would you walk with upon the downs, lady?” She nodded her eagerness as Ithril gave his companions a significant look, which they instinctively knew to mean they should be about their business whilst he was about his own.

  The young couple exited the cottage as the shepherd pounced upon Kyan, “I suppose he means that I should follow, but how is it to be done discretely?”

  The boy grinned widely, “you can make yourself invisible, at least to mortal eyes, with simply a thought.”

  The seemingly ancient man chuckled, “this new occupation is vastly more interesting than herding sheep.” With that, he vanished from sight but there came a muffled thump as he tried to walk through the wall in pursuit of his
new master, but failed to properly concentrate. The boys exchanged an amused grin before vanishing about their own task, leaving the unseen shepherd to figure out that particular skill on his own.

  “Well, here we are,” said Bayard with a grin, “back where we started, very nearly when we started too!”

  “It has been quite the adventure,” said Kyan, he frowned, “or will be, since most of it hasn’t happened yet? I wonder if I will ever understand temporal metaphysics?”

  “Enough with your philosophical maunderings,” said Bayard with good-natured disgust, “I am getting a headache, which must be rather significant since we no longer suffer bodily pain. How are we to put this ruin in order?”

  Kyan grinned at his most impish and Bayard knew he was in trouble, said Kyan, “I still have a very hard time comprehending that the annoying neighbor girl, a shepherdess at that, is going to be a Queen. Back in my rapscallion days, I would probably suggest that this forsaken rock heap is quite good enough for her.”

  Bayard merely arched an eyebrow, “what do you mean by referring to your rapscallion days in the past tense? As far as anyone who has ever met you is concerned, you are an incurable reprobate. Now this rock heap might suffice for you and your one time beloved, but it certainly will not do for our master nor his bride, and he has particularly asked our assistance in this matter and I think we had best heed him.”

  “For his sake, of course,” said Kyan with that same grin, perhaps worse, if that were possible, but he quickly sobered and focused on the business at hand. His hand began to glow as he approached the nearest heap of rubble. Hardly knowing what it was he did, he touched his radiant hand to the fallen stones and immediately they began to glow and move and shift, until the broken wall had knitted itself back into what it must have been before tragedy struck. Bayard was similarly busy on the other side of the courtyard, and between them, they soon had the ruined keep standing proud and whole once more, towering boldly over the valleys it warded long ago.

  “They have a place to live,” said Bayard thoughtfully, “but it is hardly fit for a lady to call home, most especially a Queen.” He eyed his companion warningly, but Kyan only smiled slightly and refrained from making light of her humble heritage, for was she not to be their lady and mistress, due all respect and honor, despite having once been ‘that annoying girl next door?’ Besides, if their Master could make a Knight out of a shepherd, why not a Queen? And somehow, each knew that the time of their friendly banter with the Prince had come to an end, for they were no longer merry companions adventure bent, but rather servants in the hall of their esteemed lord.

  At last Kyan said thoughtfully, “if we can rebuild a castle, why can’t we likewise set it in order that everything is ready upon our lord’s return?”

  Bayard gaped, “it is one thing to set fallen stones in their previous places, you speak of restoring that which has rotted to dust, perhaps even of raising the dead!”

  The magpie suddenly flitted between them and settled boldly on an ancient hitching rail, said He, “and that is precisely what I have tasked you with doing, for certainly you need My power and permission to exercise those particular miracles, but knowing that you have it, fear not to continue as your lord has bidden you.” He was gone in a flash of white and black feathers as suddenly as He had come. The boys exchanged an eager smile and immediately resumed their task.

  Bayard was vastly happy to realize that he was merely restoring what the minions of evil had destroyed a millennium ago, for he had no flare for the artistic, at least when it came to linens and tapestries. Each of the Knights wandered through the great halls, touching a glowing hand here and there as they felt the need, and with each touch, here a painting materialized on the wall, there a great rug covered the floor, or an awestruck servant gasped back to life. While the paintings and silverware and furniture were certainly needful and interesting, it was the restoration of their fellow men that the pair found most intriguing. Each gasped, groaned, moaned, or screamed, however it was they had perished that terrible night a thousand years ago, but suddenly they glanced about in wonder, feeling at their now absent wounds in disbelief, and then they smiled up into the eyes of the mystified Knight who had restored them to form and function.

  The first such personage Kyan restored seemed to be a scholar in his middle years, who suddenly appeared prostrate on the floor of one of the corridors where he had fallen in his flight as madness consumed the castle. He gasped like a stranded fish, then frowned, turning astonished eyes upon the equally mystified boy. He gazed perplexedly about him, having been certain that only a moment before the corridors had been filled with sword wielding barbarians howling like a night in storm as smoke choked the night dark air, heavy with winter’s chill. But here he was, sitting on the floor beside the most unobtrusive lad he had ever set eyes upon in the middle of a summer afternoon. He regained his feet, as sitting on the floor was certainly not befitting the dignity of a scholar of his standing, and addressed the boy, who seemed to find the whole situation far too amusing for said dignity to long bear in silence, quoth he, “what is the meaning of this? What madness has seized me, the castle, or the entire world?”

  Kyan offered him a very proper bow and said quite respectfully, “no madness sir, merely a miracle.”

  “A miracle, eh?” said the professor, stroking his spindly beard thoughtfully, “so I am to understand that the castle was truly under siege?”

  “All were put to the sword sir,” said the boy grimly, “and everything burned.”

  “Gracious!” declared the scholar, “my books!”

  Kyan could not help but smile, “have been restored, just as you yourself have been, along with everything and everyone else.”

  Forgetting his dignity for a moment, the man smiled wryly, “it seems my priorities need some attention! Here I am worried about my books, quite forgetting my life and everyone else’s were likewise forfeit.” He frowned, “how long has it been?”

  “A thousand years,” said the boy.

  The man’s jaw dropped but he snapped it shut for the sake of his humbled, but not forgotten, dignity, “what has come of the world?”

  Said the boy, “the whole Kingdom hereabouts fell under a curse, the residents reduced to fretful shadows awaiting the advent of a True King.”

  “The Prophecy!” said the man in growing anticipation, “he is coming at last!”

  “Yes,” said the joyous boy, “and we were sent to prepare the way.”

  “As we have been called back to waking life to serve him as we might,” said the eager man; he smiled wryly, “I had hoped to see his coming, but had certainly not anticipated this was how it would be accomplished! Tell me, what fair maid has he chosen as his Queen?”

  Kyan could not help but grin, but happily there was more of joy in it than roguishness, “he has sought the whole world over among ever kindred and kingdom of men for a worthy bride, but found her at last among the hill shepherds.”

  “This is a story indeed!” said the scholar in near ecstasy, “of course I will have to write a ballad about it in time for his coming. Tell me everything!” Kyan eagerly complied as he continued to walk the corridors, restoring all to its previous splendor with the eager scholar tagging after like an eager duckling, chattering questions one atop the other like a brook in flood. So it was that the entire castle, with its entire complement of dwellers and contents, was restored to its former splendor, as if the evil of that night had never been and all eagerly awaited the advent of their prophesied lord.

  Meanwhile, said lord was becoming better acquainted with his intended lady and must later in the day plead his case with her father. Strangely, for such a fearsome and powerful creature, he was rather reluctant to face his future father-in-law; he smiled wryly at this, for he had faced far worse terrors and villains in his day, what was one more? But his lady drew him away from his introspection as she laughed merrily, “what is this you say sir? If you are not a shepherd, then w
hat is your trade? And why bother courting a mere shepherd’s daughter?”

  Said Ithril slowly, wishing to gauge the girl’s reaction, “I will be King over all these lands, and you, my dear girl, I hope you will consent to be my Queen.”

  She stopped suddenly, pallid as milk, all mirth forgotten, “you are not in jest?! Me!”

  He smiled gently at her, “indeed, I have searched the whole world over to find you, but I am heartened that at least you believe me.”

  Mastering herself, she said with a slight smile, “but likely my father will not. He has been eyeing our neighbor’s flock for many a year and ever he urged me to make an alliance with his adopted son.”

  Ithril shook his head in amusement, “and he would rather have that particular flock of sheep rather than his daughter a Queen!”

  “That about sums him up,” laughed she.

  “If that is his brideprice,” said Ithril with a grin, “I am sure I can arrange matters; perhaps this interview will not be as trying as I had thought.” He smiled at the lady, “will you join me on this adventure, milady?” Her smile was answer enough; now to treat with her father.

  “Ye want to marry me daughter?” said the man aghast, “well I hardly know ye!”

  Said Ithril quite respectfully, “what if your neighbor was to vouch for my character?”

  “That would be helpful,” said the man thoughtfully, “but I cannot let the lass wander off with just any man. Keepin’ sheep is all she knows and is quite a respectable sort o’life, how do you propose to keep the girl fed and clothed if you won’t follow the sheep?”

  “I’ll see that she becomes a veritable princess,” said Ithril eagerly.

  “Hmmph,” said his unconvinced host. Just then came a knock upon the humble door and said neighbor entered when bidden to do so, rejoiced the skeptical father, “just the man I need! This young upstart says you’ll vouch for him.”

  “Indeed,” chuckled the shepherd turned Knight, “you could not find a finer son-in-law nor your daughter a better man. In fact, I had just come over to ask if you would take my flock, as I will soon be departing with the man in question.”

  Eagerness flashed in the skeptical man’s eyes, but he did his best to appear thoughtful and importuned upon, saying slowly, “well if that be the case, I am sure you can keep the young’uns out of trouble. Very well, marry the lass and I’ll keep an eye on them sheep.”

  The elder shepherd could not help but laugh, “as you’ve kept your eye on them for as long as I’ve known you.”

  “Hmmph,” was all he said.

  That night, Bayard and Kyan returned to the shepherd’s house to tell of their surprising and most excellent day’s work and to hear how things had gone with the Prince’s wooing. “Excellent,” said Ithril, “now all we need is a good elven seamstress.”

  Kyan grinned most widely, “nay Sire, for that has already been attended to. There are no less than three elven maids at work this very moment along with any number of their assistants and apprentices; no sooner had we restored the dear ladies to form and function than they set to work immediately on the requisite regalia for your wedding.” His grin widened, “and there is even a rather scholarly bard at work on the ballad of our recent adventures.”

  Ithril smiled at the first but sighed at the second, said he in unfeigned dread, “has this bard a name?”

  “If he has,” said Kyan in concern, “he never mentioned it, so busy was he digging for details to be immortalized in song and story.”

  The Prince looked as if he needed a tooth pulled, “that phrase alone, ‘immortalized,’ is enough to tell me who it is; that was the only good thing that happened that dreadful night: the destruction of that man’s entire, extensive collection of bad poetry!”

  “Why do they let him hang about the place, as full of talented scholars as it is, if his work is so dreadful?” asked Bayard curiously.

  Ithril smiled in wry reminiscence, “if they barred him from the place, he’d read his work aloud, an event that well might spell a doom worse than befell it; if they leave him alone, he is so busy writing the horrid stuff that it remains safely entombed in volume after volume of doggerel verse. They long thought it a wise practice to let sleeping doggerels lie.”

  Changing the subject, the shepherd asked, “bad puns aside, what next is to be done, Sir?”

  “We must send out the invitations,” said Ithril, with a smile that boded ill for the man who was so overbold as to suggest that his punning was a thing as abhorrent as a certain man’s poetry.

  Kyan interjected, risking his own life thereby, “who then will go to the elves?” The Prince’s smile only deepened, killing even Kyan’s irrepressible grin thereby.

  “That’s what we get for opening our big mouths, lad,” chuckled the shepherd, as he and Kyan went in search of a door into the elven lands to deliver the Prince’s invitation.

  “It’s worse than you think,” said the boy gloomily, “we may spend the rest of eternity trying to find a door we can open!”

  The elder Knight chuckled, “use your head lad, I taught you better than that. You’ve been at this far longer than I, and even I figured out what must be done.”

  The boy frowned thoughtfully, having followed after the Prince so long that he had become used to following his lead. Of course the man would need to enter by an approved door when making an official visit of state, but no matter the magic of the elves, nothing could keep a Knight upon Official Business out. Kyan grinned ear to ear as the pair of them vanished, only to appear the next moment before the very throne of the Elven King. They both bowed to the appropriate degree as the shepherd proffered the Prince’s elegant invitation. The King snarled at both their temerity and sudden intrusion, but he took the missive, glanced over it, and tossed it carelessly over his shoulder, growling, “tell his Highness that I must decline his most gracious invitation. This is a matter that certainly does not concern the Elves!” The Knights exchanged a sad look, bowed anew, and vanished once more.

  They reappeared in their previous seats at the shepherd’s battered table, where Ithril sat writing out his invitations. He smiled at their troubled expressions and said cheerily, “I didn’t think they would come, but they’d be highly insulted not to be asked; at least they can’t kill my messengers and it certainly saves on postage!” With that, he pushed a stack of finished invitations towards them and said, “off with you, lest I find you in possession of too much leisure time and condemn you to interminable invitation writing alongside me.” They exchanged a horrified glance and then a hearty laugh, took up the elegant letters, and vanished once more, the official postmen of the Prince of the North.

  The invitations were sent to every noble lord and minor king of every kindred yet extant in the mortal world, many scoffed or laughed scornfully or sneered, but for all those who held the coming nuptials in contempt, there were many who wished the storied Prince well, and either made plans to come themselves or to send an envoy with a fabulous gift and their heartiest congratulations. As the day of the wedding and coronation approached, the Prince, still headquartered in the unassuming shepherd’s hut, made his plans and sent his missives and marshaled his troops in preparation for the big day, knowing his enemies did not sleep and nothing would please them more than to use what should be a grand celebration to at last triumph over their ancient foe and prophesied bane.

  Said the Prince one morning to his minions three, “no undead worker of evil can set foot within the castle proper, but that provision will not inhibit my mortal enemies, but you are useless against such foes and that duty must fall to others. But there is a matter I must address and with which you can be of assistance: we must face the shades lurking in the hills and give them the chance either to repent and live again as mortal men or to vanish forever beyond the confines of this world if they will not; I will not bring my bride home to a land infested with muttering shadows! The time is at hand for their release, one way or another; I only hope a
thousand years of futility has taught them something.”

  Kyan shook his head, “I fear not Sire, for in our own journey through that land, their presence was quite unsettling and certainly bitter.”

  “Be that as it may,” said the Prince, “they will have their chance at last.” With these words, the Prince vanished with his original escort, leaving the ancient shepherd to ward his lady. They stood upon a great hill in the gathering dusk, and felt rather than saw thousands of creeping shadows drawn inexorably to them. Said Ithril once full dark had fallen and the shades sat muttering and murmuring about him, seething with anger, fear, and eagerness, “the time of your release is come at last.” He paused and let the creatures react as they would in dread or joy, before continuing, “you were thus cursed long ago for the wickedness and cruelty in which you lived and treated others. Repent now of your evil, and walk again as mortal men, freely under sun and star, or retreat forever into the fathomless dark, never more to trouble this world or any other.” Like a tidal wave of infinite night, the outraged shadows flowed together and tried to wash over the impudent Prince, but the two silent figures on either side suddenly burst forth into an unbearable light. With a pathetic wail, the flood receded and its instigators with it, leaving here and there astonished but joyous individuals scattered upon the face of the hill, a remnant of those once cursed while the others vanished beyond the sphere of the world.

  The Prince smiled joyously at the remnant, but sorrow at the willingly chosen fate of their former kinsmen touched his voice, “go home in peace. And tomorrow, come to the castle and let us celebrate together as a new day dawns upon these forsaken hills!” The hundred or so former shades cheered eagerly as each withdrew to their former abodes, wondering what could be left after so many long and empty years. But Kyan and Bayard were there before them, restoring all to its former form and function ere the inhabitants returned home. Great was their joy at such provision and greater still their hope of what that land could be under the rule of a wise and just man. When his Knights returned from their errand, Ithril smiled broadly at them and said, “a nice bit of work lads, but come, for tomorrow I marry and restore a Kingdom!” They vanished anew, leaving only the wind to sigh in the grass while silent stars watched above.

  They gathered there, wellwishers and naysayers alike, for few wished to miss the chance to watch Prophecy itself unfold, or perhaps they hoped it would all come to naught and they would be there to laugh it to scorn. From the ends of the earth they came, from nearly every kindred and Kingdom, great and small alike, for not only did they come as guests and witnesses, but also some came to stay. Not a few men found their hearts stirred, that perhaps it was time they started anew in that strange and promising land, for a Kingdom needed citizens, and many were those that answered the call, some the distant descendants of those who had flown in fear on a dark night a millennium ago, at last they could return with joy on that bright morning. Some walked, setting out even before they knew the when or where or why, only knowing that they must. Others fell in with a Knight and found themselves immediately in those strange lands, eager for all that was to come and hardly astonished by the means of their coming, for somehow they knew themselves in a veritable fairy tale and nothing thereafter was like to surprise them in the least.

  So it was, the Prince was married and crowned King that very day with great joy before the eyes of all the world and so too was his Kingdom founded. It was a happy tale for many long years, for he was wise and just and merry and his kingdom prospered like no other in mortal lands, but that Age, like all legends, eventually faded into mist and myth, until the drier and duller years of history began, wherein men grew too wise to believe in fairy tales any longer, but that is another tale entirely.