The four companions and their wolves left the grotto campsite with little to say they had been there, save for a warm spot on the rocks where their fire had burned. After he finished staring at his aged face, Lac was sure to erase signs of their passage. The two horses, with Alrick’s prone form flopping behind Jin’s saddle, clattered swiftly into the shadowed shrubbery that crouched beside the crooked path leading up the mountain. The wolves moved even more swiftly, like clouds slipping over the face of the moon, barely a twig or pebble rustling under paw. Tiphereth’s gliding form was able to keep pace with the sleek wolf backs, making no more sound than they, and leaving no more trace. The wolves accepted his presence with barely a snort, and soon found their places flanking him.

The going soon became slower, though, despite the pressing feeling at their backs of a burning eye, for the mountain before them was no trifle and the horses could climb the steep and slippery rocks only so quickly without risking themselves and their riders. Yet Lac’s stallion was elven-reared and could move with the nimbleness of a goat on the precarious slopes, encouraging Jin’s gelding to follow.

Winding left and right and left again, past boulders and knots of trees, the path seemed to go on forever in an endless night of sudden cliffs and slippery shale. It was not a road made to be climbed by night, and several times even Lac’s steady horse shied and danced, coming too near a black drop-off. In this nail-biting fashion, they wended their way above the tops of the tall trees, and through their dwarfish cousins came to see the valley stretching behind like a blue and hungry abyss, visible only thanks to the stars and their keen elven and faerie eyes. And still, the feeling of the evil presence followed them as eagerly as a hound on the scent, making the horses swish their tails and stamp and the wolves flick their ears.

From the trees in the valley below, where the waterfall fell like spilled silk, a murder of crows—or was it ravens?—arose, flapping and silent as death’s cloak. They had too many wings, too many beaks, and were larger even than gray owls. Their winging forms rose over the sky, appearing and contorting against streaming clouds, and disappearing again against the sleepless black night. The sight of them moved like oil over the pure waters of the soul of any good creature.

* * *
Several miles away, another pair of eyes saw the unnatural birds. A hag as withered as an old corn cob thrust a claw-like finger towards the sky. “Look, Ragwul!” she cackled. “His minions have come forth! We must have chanced near something He is seeking…”



The old woman’s ratty hair was mostly gray and hoary, but here and there hanks of red hung through it, making her piebald and mismatched. As the wind blew through her mangy tresses, it shuddered in dread.

She was traveling in the company of a handful of men-at-arms, and the man she addressed as Ragwul rode at the head of them. His armor was the most grand and sinister of them all, and his expression could not be seen behind his magnificent helm, though one might have gotten an impression of it as he raised a mailed fist to the back of his neck to scratch and cocked his great helmed head to one side. “He who?” demanded a voice that sounded tinny from the recesses of the helm.



“Don’t be a twit!” snapped the old woman and rapped the man’s armor with her walking stick—an attack which had not the least effect on him. “The Great One! The king’s Master!” Her voice was like two dry bones rubbing together.

“Don’t call me a twit in front of the men,” complained the tinny voice in the helm in hushed and injured tones. “Anyway,” he went on more boldly, “what you say makes no sense, Sorceress! Who could possibly be King Ludwig’s Master? He is the most powerful warlord in five kingdoms, and about to be more powerful, upon my sword!”

“Ha!” The sorceress barked a laugh that cut the night like a rusty blade. “Do you know nothing? Do you not pay attention? You block! You rock! You worse than useless thing!” Berating the man in dark armor was one of her few pleasures in life. “I speak of no mortal, but of the Master of the king’s heart! The source of his power and his will to exert it! I speak of the ancient and mighty One, who even now lies restlessly waiting in the sunken tower beyond the mountains of Abbec-Cuer! See how His eyes fly…!” Her hooked fingernail followed the swarming progression of the wicked bird creatures as they appeared and disappeared. “They pursue something, something He is hunting. What could it be?” She was talking quietly to herself now. “They fly towards…Oron-D-Narr?” Surprise made her voice livelier and almost pleasant, like a grandmother’s. “Well, well…”

“Well, it’s none of our business,” said Ragwul, still a little stung. “We have scouting to do! Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on coming on these missions—or why the king lets you, for that matter, a senile old bag like you.”

“Bag!?” The sorceress gathered herself up to her full height, which was not impressive, but still the air almost crackled around her—almost. “You won’t call me that when I get my power back!”

“So you keep saying…”

“But there’s more than one way to regain what I’ve lost,” the sorceress’s voice was a mix of mournful and cunning that set even the proud warrior’s teeth on edge. She went on, “It is no mere chance that we’ve been shown the way! For when they reach Oron-D-Narr, those creatures of darkness will not be able to follow. But you and I, we can follow; we can do as the Dark One wishes, for there is no other way to power, Ragwul. We can follow, indeed, for I am without my true glory, and you are a fool.”

“A fool, am I?” Ragwul had heard just about enough. “Would King Ludwig place a fool in charge of his troops? Would a fool be sworn in knighthood with the blessing of the very Gods themselves? Hm?”

“Haven’t you ever heard that all Gods love a fool?” Sirax waved her walking stick at the men following behind, shouting, “This way!” as she changed their course, spurring her steed towards Oron-D-Narr. Ragwul could only follow.

* * *
Meanwhile, Verin emerged from his long travels in the depths of an ancient mine. Long ago these echoing halls were abandoned by their dwarven keepers—for they dug too deeply and unearthed something foul that made even Verin’s pulse contract, what traces of earth-old evil he could smell on the air. The feeling made him smile. It had been a long time since anything could make him feel this way.



He was alone, and yet he was never alone. Verin raised his hand and gazed into the flaming crystal affixed to his favorite ring. At first the image shown him was tiny, but as he gazed, the sight filled his very mind. His dear, sweet sister, Ssinjin, fleeing up the mountain in the most pathetic company imaginable: not only that blasted half-elf, but a human too! It was so ridiculous he laughed out loud.

But what was this?

Verin’s scornful brow hardened as he gazed at a new addition to his sister’s little tea party: A strange man that was neither human nor elven, though just what he was, Verin couldn’t say. Autumn leaves fell through him…

Verin shook his head. It didn’t matter. They could flee to Oron-D-Narr, but the Dark One had promised Verin that he would have the pleasure of killing his sister personally, of feeling her life’s blood run through his fingers. And soon, here in this mine that ran like a sickness through the heart of the earth, he would find a forgotten power that could obliterate what shreds of protection still lay over Oron-D-Narr, and they would not be able to hide from him for long…

* * *


Something in the air that followed them up the mountain gave Alrick bad dreams, and he twitched and mumbled betimes as he bounced behind Ssinjin. At one point, it sounded like he said urgently, “Fly…! Fly!” but a glance showed that he spoke in his sleep. Even the jostling ride up the mountain the whole length of the cold and hounding night, did not wake him from his slumber, deep as it was, as a rock at the bottom of the sea.

Tiphereth skipped up the side of the mountain his powerful legs at times propelling him high into the air, where he seemed to float, sailing upon the winds as if he would fly into the night sky. Indeed he might have, were not for the weight of his satchel that pulled him back to the earth, descending upon the mountain side like a silent owl plunging upon it's prey. Weightlessly he skipped from rock to rock, mischievously taunting the wolves, as he raced them to the peak, and at one point one playfully met his challenge, locking his jaws on his satchel and throwing the light being like a leaf. For, indeed, at times the Phaerie weighed less than a feather, then as he fell to earth his weight would return to generate momentum. They simply called it, 'becoming light' and it was as natural to them as flight was to a bird.

The night was intoxicating, and the Phaerie delighted in the company of his wolven playmates, and as they ran together he sang to them in his Enddren tongue, telling of stories of their own kind from his homeland. His black eyes saw everything about him, a glorious world bathed in a golden hue, but at times he would allow the fiery lavender glow to return and revel in the splendor of darkness, seeing as he believed humans might.

Tiphereth did not know how far they would travel, but his legs were strong and breathing steady, but as the leagues would begin to amount, he like the wolves, would eventually need to rest and quench his thirst before continuing onward to Oron-D-Narr.

Lac had now time or desire to gaze upon his reflextion in the pool of the grotto. There were more plressing issues on his mind, their safety. He led them up the mountain along a winding sometimes perilous path. As the sun rose over mountain peaks the four companions found themselves on a high plataue

.

Lac pulled Lightning



to a halt, turned to his companions and said "We can rest here for a short while to water the horses and quench our thirst. The water here in Curayrelyorsaetynarthlay lorarthakarneth (TRANSLATION: Crystal Lake) Is cool and pure. Over those peaks lies the River Oron_D_Narr and beyond that lay the borders of my lands.

Tiphereth gazed upon the pristine lake with wonder in his flaming eyes. The high ridge they had traversed must have ages ago been a volcano, and the deadened crater had long since been filled by the cool mountain streams of the even taller range that walled Oron_D_Narr. The presence he had felt spying upon them during the ascent was gone. It had been a tiny sensation, like a breeze on the back of one's neck but it was far away, too far to matter unless the being were able to portal, but he had seen no sign of shaldaia that appeared to Phaerie eyes as blazing gateways in the air.

The black lake of stars stirred, as ripples spread from the drinking wolves and horses. Tiphereth, filled his water skin, then dipped a cup into the cool clear water and quenched his thirst. He looked out across the lake, seeing it beneath the curtain of night, as he believed it was meant to be seen his glowing eyes preventing his night vision from ruining its beauty. He then looked deep, beyond the veil that separates this world from the Phaerie and could see water sprites gliding across the water's glassy surface, laughing at playing as children with out a care in the world — but the truth was they didn't care, they were unable to, as they were lesser of his kind, creatures that yet bore many characteristics of the elemental. Tiphereth could hear their call, tempting him to forget the ways of Men and Elves, to relieve his burdens and join in their eternal dance, but as always the will that once Human residing within him kept him whole.

Tiphereth stepped away from the water and looked to the snow capped peaks that awaited them. He could see a pass and wondered if that would indeed be their path, or did the Elf know of other trails? Either way he would have little difficulty but he feared the horses may falter in the snow.

As they entered the glassy lake valley, the darkness that tormented Alrick’s sleep subsided and he found himself dreaming of pleasant green pastures filled with sweet columbine and velvety soft mud ditches perfect for wallowing… He might have smiled in his sleep and smacked his lips, but for the fact that the left side of his jaw was decidedly puffy now and taking on a bruised pink tinge.

When the jostling of the horses stopped, he awakened, bleary and head full of blood from hanging over the backside of Jin’s saddle. He tried to wriggle off, but found himself bound to the drow waist-to-waist, and mumbled in incoherent confusion and dismay. His nerves felt like he could fry an egg on them and moving his hands and feet felt foreign, as if he’d forgotten how to be a human in his sleep.

When he heard Jin’s annoyed voice, “Stop fussing and let me undo this rope,” it all came back to him.

“Tipheresh—izh he—?” he blurted, but had to stop as he winced at the surprising discomfort in his jaw. He had to speak out of one corner of his lips and it sounded like he was talking with his mouth full. He lightly cupped the tender bulge with his hand, looking up and right at Tiphereth, who had heard Alrick speak his name, and whose very presence answered Alrick's question.

Jin could do no more than unravel the knot and mutter, “By the grace of the Goddess, the spell worked. However…” before Alrick shook his head, deaf to Jin, and addressed Tiphereth as gravely as a man can do when he is hanging over the rear end of a horse with a swollen jaw, “I shuppose it doezhn’t mean much to shay I’m shorry…”

He averted his eyes and slid off the horse to wobble before Tiphereth. His side was stinging and tingly from where the saddle had been digging into it.

Mistaking the faerie man’s furrowed confusion for upset, Alrick hastened on, “I musht grant you a boon, Tipheresh. Ashk anyshing of me.” He stood up a little straighter, beseeching gaze on the faerie creature’s glowing eyes. “Anyshing at all! I shall find zhe meanzh of rendering any shervice you should requesht of me.”

Jin, still rather annoyed at Alrick, quickly slid from the horse as though she’d been riding the beast since childhood and marched over to where Alrick was about to make another big mistake. Her eyes, still glowing a faint red color beneath the hood of her dark cloak, seemed to bore into the apprentice wizard’s soul.

“Stop blithering like a fool, Alrick. What happened was nothing more than a mistake. Of that, I am sure you are aware of by now. Suffice it to say things are about as back to normal as they can be.”

Realizing the young man had no idea Tiphereth was unaware anything had occurred or happened to him, her tone softened and she actually tried to be very amiable.

“The water is fresh and cool. Go. Get yourself a good drink. I am sure you could use it to help wash the sluggishness away from your body as well.”

Looking beyond Alrick to the strange man she had helped bring back from the brink of death, she merely nodded but said nothing more before she turned on her heel and slipped over to the edge of the lake where Lac was getting himself a drink.

And noticing his reflection for the first time.

Stopping and giving him time to see the difference as best he could in the moonlit waters, she waited a few seconds before she approached and knelt down beside him. Pushing the hood of her cloak back, the faint glow in her eyes grew less noticeable as she looked at Lac’s face again. Her voice was more like a seductive whisper as she spoke and the sincerity in her voice was undeniable.

“If I had known it would change you the way it did, I would have tried to cast the spell on my own. Please forgive me for doing this to you. It was never my intention to harm anyone but my magic is used for destruction more than resurrection. By bending the very nature of the magic I used, it has caused a great change in your physical being. For that, I am eternally sorry”

She looked at him a moment longer before she turned her gaze away from his, ashamed of the affects her spell had upon the Ranger. Removing her gloves, she reached into the water and brought her hands to her lips to drink. When she had a few more handfuls, she filled her water skin then splashed some of the water on her face.

Lac looked over at Ssinjin and said softly. "There is nothing to be sorry for, what has happened to me is of no consequence Ssinjin, my aging has been long overdue. What matters more is that you helped another being. You used your skills to save a life, this says more of you and your heart than you realize right now. You have taken the first steps towards a more rewarding and fruitful life.

I live my life according to an ancient code, a code taught to me by my father, who was of the race of man, and reinforced by the Elven teachers of my mother's race. A code many of the race of man have forgotten. That code is; Art Kalnaeithgalhaltor istisor satawelothraenor taeol VenArthalisOssaRun;
Hamistastar Hiemestruntar kirnaroswilsil olnellisya VinInRelTinUthEtha; Hieminasil Bellorastradeleva delestforethnordilsor tilhiresta MinEthaAstraKey; Hilistsae Morinagalhiemtor uthaepirhiemothlindelsil torhurev WelEthaAnKel; Halithsar Wenothrendel silperethkeysae ossanirlorya TirRinUthayTinHin; Hirisasor Wilrunartatirhin uthnirdaossaevasata taehilev WenIstiCurayKarnEthDay."
(Translation: A Knight is sworn to VALOR; His Heart knows only VIRTUE; His Blade defends the MEEK; His Might upholds the WEAK; His Word speaks only TRUTH; His Wrath undoes the WICKED) . That code should be learned and practiced by all. If it were.........." Lac then looked to the snow covered mountains.

"We will rest until the sun is over those peaks. Then we must press on, the lands of my people are close. I sense a close and trusted friend is near, a friend that has watched over me longer than I can remember, he will be joining us soon, I think to escort us home."

Tiphereth did not know how to respond to the slurring wizard and was most appreciative of the Drow's intervention. He reflected her nod and watched the man stagger toward the lake, moving like a baby that had just learned to walk. It was just how the newcomer felt in this world, each step tentative for fear that he may inadvertently insult one of his companions or worse. Although, at times this world could be as beautiful as his, to be sure, the Phaerie considered as he once more stared out across the waters.

'Why did Alrick feel he owed him a boon?' Tiphereth wondered and sifting back through recent events he struggled to find the answer, but could determine nothing. Perhaps, when the wizard's head cleared he would be enlighten him, but until then he thrust it from his mind and joined the wolves where they rested along the shoreline.

From a side compartment in his satchel he procured what appeared to be a small brass lantern with opaque glass and at it's top, instead of handle there was small cup, appearing as if it were meant to hold a hard boiled egg. He placed his hand before the lantern, whispered something in an unknown tongue and a the wick inside the glass ignited, producing a soft glowing light. Tiphereth then withdrew a small black sphere and unstrapped a long cylindrical pouch from his pack, from which he removed an exquisitely carved dark wooden flute. He then placed the black orb in the holder atop the lantern and touched the glass and uttered another few magical words and the light of the lantern turned red.

The Phaerie put his flute to his lips and began play a soft, lilting melody. Beside him, the black orb began to spark with life, and beautiful images of writhing colours and small animal forms danced to a haunting tune that seem to emanate from the general location of the orb. The sounds of the flute were accompanied by a variety of instruments cast by the magical sphere, allowing Tiphereth to produce a piece of music one might only here at a concert.

He closed his eyes and let the sweet melodic notes sooth him, lulling his worries away so that he might sleep until sunrise, as for reasons unbeknownst to him, he seemed fatigued from the short run.

Confusing was the word for Jin’s odd mood swing from caustic chastisement to an almost amiable suggestion to refresh himself at the pool—a suggestion that came a little out of left field, considering the solemnity of the conversation he was trying to have with Tiphereth. But even worse than that was the silent and entirely uninviting stare Tiphereth delivered without so much as answering his peace offering. A shudder passed through the wizard’s apprentice as he thought that Jin must know something he didn’t, and by the look on Tiphereth’s face, the man from Faerie was not about to grant Alrick any peace of mind by accepting his admission of fault.

And why should he? Being murdered wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to forgive.

After a last, half-pleading, half-remorseful look at Tiphereth, Alrick turned and lugged his aching body to the pool’s edge. The water was as pure as it looked, and he hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until the cool liquid entered his mouth. He might have drunk half the lake, except that his swollen jaw didn’t make it worth the effort. He padded the lump below his left cheek again and wondered how it came to be there. Had he fallen wrong? No…something struck him…

He shook his head. It was no use; the memory was gone, into the swirling mix of everything else.

Alrick pulled aside the collar of his shirt and looked at the skin over his heart. The flesh was seared and now blistering in the shape of the odd tattoo—the talisquetry, Tiphereth called it—that the faerie had tried to pass to him. While the skin around the mark was stinging, the symbol itself was numb to the touch, as if it had been anesthetized. Alrick knew it wasn’t something as pleasant as that, though; the surface nerves had all been burned away and would take some time to come back. The scar would probably be there forever. That was fine with Alrick. Maybe that way, he’d remember to stop and think once in while, he told himself bitterly. It was his badge of idiocy.

Alrick sighed and daubed the cold water from the mountain lake over the mark, easing the soreness around the burn. As he worked, Tiphereth’s otherworldly music filtered through the camp. Alrick fell still, listening but staring over the glistening waters of the limpid pool. Starlight caught in the near-still depths and danced in timorous rhythm: a visual reflection of the fragile music. He didn’t know how long they were going to stay here, but he didn’t feel like going anywhere just now, or like saying a word.

Lac listened contentedly to the music Tiphereth played for a moment then looked over at Alrick and whispered to him. "Tiphereth has no memory of what happened to him. I think it best for us not to tell him. If it is meant for him to remember his gods shall reveal it to him. It is not our place. Now go and rest my young friend for the sun will shine over those peaks soon and we have a hard journey yet before us." Lac then stood and walked to the horses and began bedding them down for a short rest.

Lac removed a small pouch from his saddle bags and unsheathed his long sword. After setting the pouch down, he sat with his back against his saddle, opened the pouch and removed a sharpening stone, a small vile of clove oil and a soft cloth. Lacthe ran the shappening stone along the edge of the sword slowly. As he sharped the blade he sang softly, to the tune Tiphereth played. After he was satisfied with the sharpness, he began slowly rubbing the mithrial and silve blade of his sword with clove oil to clean it. Lac became silent as he polished the blade, a solem expression upon his face as visions of his father teaching him this task while his mother watched filled his memory.





"You must preform this task with great care and love my son." his father had told him "For there will come a day when this blade may well be the only thing that stands before you and death. This blade will be the only thing that stands between the light of right and the darkness of evil. You and a band of unlikely companions are charged with this destiny."

Jin listened to Lac’s words and while she knew he was trying to make her feel better, she still found herself feeling bad for the affect the spell had on the Ranger. While she admittedly liked the change in him, she knew it wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t bent the magic to her will.

The Drowess was getting ready to say something when the soft sound of Tiphereth’s flute filled the air. Blinking, she turned to look upon the strange man. The song was beautiful and when Lac began to sing softly with the music, Jin found herself relaxing just a little.

Glancing over at Alrick, Jin saw the swollen jaw and could see the beginnings of a bruise appearing on his skin. Knowing that couldn’t feel all that good, she walked over to where the apprentice wizard sat, she kneeled down beside him. Pulling out a strip of cloth from her cloak, she dipped it into the cool water of the lake. When she wrung the excess water out of it, she uttered soft words.

“inthuul ky'hul” (cold cloth)

Looking over at Alrick, she leaned closer and brought the cloth close to him. The young man backed his head away slightly from what she was doing and gave her a suspicious look, rightfully so. Chuckling softly, she tilted her head slightly.

“It is a cold compress for your jaw, young Alrick. Here…feel for yourself.”

When the young wizard gingerly reached out to feel the cloth, he would feel it was quite cold. Colder than the water that it had been dipped in. Blinking his surprise, Jin gently placed the cloth to his jaw then and brought his hand up so he could hold the cloth in place.

“It will stay cold until you are done using it.”

Glancing at the resting Lac and Tiphereth for a moment, Jin turned her attention back to Alrick and gave him a small smile. Her voice was soft and quiet as she spoke to the young man.

“The Ranger is right, young Alrick. The stranger knows not what happened between the two of you and it is best we not tell him. I believe in time he will discover the truth but it is not for us to disrupt the laws of his nature. He is from a world unlike ours and our magic has adverse affects upon him. As we have discovered. Rest now. I shall keep watch over us for now.”

Getting to her feet, Jin nodded slightly to Alrick then walked away to the far end of the clearing and found a place to sit that gave her a full view of the area. The wolves that were traveling with them had settled at different areas of the clearing as well and when Jin glanced at them, she could tell they were doing the same thing she was. Their silent vigil was comforting to her and she knew she was not alone.

Tiphereth played a song of his homeland, a sorrowful tune written in honour of the fallen, but one that he had always found especially beautiful. While he played the black orb, the ebon-clairestra cast orchestral sounds of instruments unheard of by the group, echoing across the lake. The miniature images began to swirl round him, then like leaves on the wind they spread across their camp, dancing fireflies of all colours dancing to the rhythm of the music. They tiny conjured sprites seem to seek out the companions, orbit them for a while then cycle to the next, the haunting notes resounding from them, each spark singing the sounds of a different instrument.

For a moment, Tiphereth considered that his companions may feel he was casting a spell on them, for he doubted they had ever seen the workings of a clairestra before, the mystical black sphere that laid upon the red flamed lantern known as the spectra. He cared not what they believed at that moment, as the song carried his thoughts back to the Autumn Temple, his home. Right now, were it the same time, his master would be rising, from his brief slumber and silently, gliding through the halls to bathe in the crystal waters of the bathhouse. But he always heard his silent pads across the polished stone. He missed his life, but there may be not to return to, if he did not destroy the nmance. He prayed that soon he would find the one and sever the cord.

As Jin sat keeping watch over her fellow travelers, she noticed the dancing lights from Tiphereth’s strange orb. She could sense something about it, but she knew it wasn’t danger. How she knew that, she couldn’t say, all she knew was that it was of no threat to her or the others.

The soft, mournful melody Tiphereth played made the Drowess think of her deceased family members. They were never a particularly close family, but there was something to be said about the comfort being in their company brought her. Each one of them had distinct personalities. It was through each of their individuality that made of the House as a whole and gave it such power and prestige in the city.

Why Verin wanted to destroy that, she didn’t know. Males were not necessarily treated as good as females, granted, but as far as men go in the society Jin came from, Verin had it made. He got what ever it was he wanted and he was being trained by one of the best male mages he could have access to. Was it his hunger for power that drove him to do the things he did or was it something different?

What ever her disowned brother’s reasons were, she could care less now. He cast the die in motion and he would have to deal with his consequences when the time came. And Jin was going to make sure she was there to make sure he felt the pain she now felt. In fact, she was determined to make sure she was the one to bring that pain to him. Oh yes….she would revel in his screams.

But for now, she let Tiphereth’s music take her back to more pleasant times. Times she shared with her Sisters and her Mother in the only home she had ever known. A home that had been ripped from its foundation and shattered to shards on the jagged rocks of deceit.

As Alrick crouched in his own little world, tending his wounds in the good old-fashioned washing and bandaging way—with no desire to cure these injuries with magic; in fact, he was rather tired of magic at the moment—Lac startled him by coming over and whispering, "Tiphereth has no memory of what happened to him. I think it best for us not to tell him.”

“He doezhn’t remember!?” Alrick echoed, incredulous. The swelling in his jaw made him flinch at his own words.

“If it is meant for him to remember, his Gods shall reveal it to him. It is not our place. Now go and rest my young friend, for the sun will shine over those peaks soon and we have a hard journey yet before us."

Alrick barely registered the rest of what Lac said, staring after the half-elf as he turned and walked to the horses. Now that he got a closer look at the ranger, Alrick thought he looked a little…old. Between that and the news about Tiphereth’s amnesia, Alrick felt like he’d stumbled into a parallel dimension where things were the same enough to fool you, but really, not the same at all.

He stole a glance at Tiphereth, where he sat playing his music, backed by clearly magical accompaniment. The unearthly melody might have been very beautiful, but Alrick’s soul churned in turmoil and he could not listen to the faerie symphony properly. His immediate reaction to the news that Tiphereth didn’t remember the whole debacle was relief. Amazing relief, like something knotted up inside him suddenly came loose and he was free again. But the fact that he felt that way made Alrick angry with himself.

His brow was tense with these very thoughts as the drow, Ssinjin, appeared beside him, offering an enchanted compress for the goose egg on his jaw. He didn’t think he could be surprised by anything anymore, but he was surprised that the drow wanted to help him in such a personal way, and that she wanted to use her magic to do it.

“The Ranger is right, young Alrick,” she said, after he accepted her assistance with a distracted ‘thank you.’ “The stranger knows not what happened between the two of you and it is best we not tell him. I believe in time he will discover the truth but it is not for us to disrupt the laws of his nature. He is from a world unlike ours and our magic has adverse affects upon him. As we have discovered. Rest now. I shall keep watch over us for now.”

Alrick actually chuckled in response to her, which wasn’t as uncomfortable as talking, but it was a dry and bitter laugh and it made him feel worse in a different way. He propped his forehead against his hand and muttered, mostly to himself, “How can he not remember? I felt him die…! And he doesn’t remember it!?” Again, the relief, but it was corrupted as an apple rotten with worms by the realization that he was going to have to live with what he had done without any hope of absolution.

Alrick was thankful when Jin left him at the pool’s edge; he wanted to be alone. That in itself was ironic. How long had he spent wandering the wilderness, longing to be in intelligent, talking, two-legged company again? Yet now he would have been very happy to crawl under a rock. His solitude could not last, though, for it was cold beside the lake, his flesh prickling with goose bumps.

As he arose and crawled towards the fire, he noticed that there were other lights in their camp besides the natural orange flicker: a spectrum of will o’ the wisps cavorting through the air. They were no doubt roused by the plaintive faerie music. Some flitted near him, as well as near Lac and Ssinjin, as if to tease and invite them to splendors they could only imagine. In Alrick’s current state, the shimmering magic felt a bit like a hangover.

He curled up and pretended to sleep; but he was so exhausted he didn’t have to pretend for long.

As Shape watched the sun rise over the peaks, he padded softly over to where Lac was sleeping and nuzzeled him awake.