“I still can’t fathom what on earth could have gotten into your head, Dackery. You are by far the most determined tourist I’ve ever met. You could have gotten yourself killed back there!”

“I have already apologized for my actions. I admit that I made a mistake.”

“A mistake! I should say it was a mistake. Next time you decide to make a mistake, please let me know in advance and give me the address of your next of kin so I can notify them of your demise.”

The sun was lying low on the horizon. An orange glow was filtering through the treetops and reflecting on the blacked walls of a burned out and partially collapsed tower. A few weeks ago this had been a commandery of the Order of the Unconquered Sun, the Knights Invictus. When Skora fell to the witches the knights had withdrawn to their commandrey a few miles outside the city, and made their stand there. Now, all that remained was a blackened hulk surrounded by rubble. The knights themselves were routed and scattered, and the heads of the fallen were taken back to Skora to be displayed as grisly trophies and a warning to all who dared defy the majesty of the witches.

The Zard had done a thorough job of demolishing the commandery, and only a few minor outbuildings had been neglected. It was in the shadow of one of these which Lindsey and her company had paused to take refuge for the night, having marched far beyond the last roadside inns along the road from the city. They had been marching doubletime since dawn, and even though there was yet a bit of daylight left they were all exhausted and in dire need of rest. The commandery had proven to be a convenient shelter at which to spend the night, being a bit removed from the main road and neglected by all and sundry since its destruction.

Falknir was still grumpy about the incident at the Skora, though the complete details of the adventure had been withheld from him. For her own part, Lindsey had been waiting all day to talk to Dackery privately herself. Dackery’s business was his own, but now his actions had put them all in danger. She felt he owed her an explanation, and she was determined to get it.

Up to now they had been busying themselves in concealing their cart and making sure their animal was tied up in a place that wouldn’t be easily observed. When this was done, Falknir left to take a brief look around the area before they settled in for the night.

For the moment, Lindsey and Dackery were alone.

Lindsey looked at Dackery, not sure how to broach the subject. Meanwhile, Dackery was taking stock of their surroundings.

“There is certainly plenty of tinder hereabouts, but I am wary of building a fire. I would prefer not to advertise our presence here, under the circumstances.”

“Yeah, about that. Mr. Dackery, I think it’s time you and I had a talk.”

Dackery cocked an eye at Lindsey, his expression inscrutable.

“Oh course, Ms. Fluger.”

Dackery took a seat on the rubble, heaving his great form onto a stack of fallen stone and settling as comfortably as he could. Apparently he expected the talk to be a long one.

“What do you wish to discuss?”

“I want to know what you were doing back at the shrine in Skora. I know you’ve been hiding something from me all this time, and up to now I’ve avoided asking questions because I know it’s not any of my business. But now we’re in trouble because of it, and I think you owe me an explanation.”

“There was no need for you to follow me to the shrine.

“You snuck out to the shrine in the middle of the night, and a Zard got killed because of it. It could have been one of us who was killed instead.”

“I went to the shrine of my own volition, and left you and Falknir out of it. If anything had happened, it would have been I alone who bore the consequences.”

“You know that’s not true. If something had happened to you you know that Falknir and I would have done everything to help you, and even if you had gotten away then we’d still be on the run just like we are now. Why did you do it?”

Dackery was silent. Lindsey was pretty sure that he knew she was right, even though he didn’t want to admit it. But Lindsey wasn’t going to push it any further. She knew him well enough now that she was pretty sure she wouldn’t have to.

And indeed, after a few moments of silence, Dackery spoke.

“The Rock of Skora is indeed a powerful artefact. The people who come to it for healing are not deluded in this respect. Whether or not any of them are actually capable of accessing that power is another matter, but it is indeed real. I know because I’ve seen such things before. The Rock of Skora is not unique. There are many objects like it scattered about the Fairworld. They are relics from the Age of Beginning. Essentially they are just fragments left over from the creation of the world, rather like discarded bits of scaffolding. So far as the Good Folk are concerned objects like these are little more than dangerous rubbish. But for those of us with sufficient knowledge to make use of them, such things have the capacity to grant mortals the means to tap the power of creation itself. I’ve known for some time that there was such an artefact nearby. I have been drawn to its power for days now, and when Falknir told us of the shrine I knew I’d found the source. And I knew I could not afford to forsake the opportunity to draw upon its magic.

You see Ms. Fluger, the fact is that I am dying.

I am already well over one hundred and twenty. The only reason I’ve lived as long as I have is through my own efforts in that regard. I have learned how to channel the energies of objects like the one in Skora to rejuvenate myself. Through this and other means I have extended my life beyond that which nature would otherwise allow. But it is still not enough.

When I was a young man, I realized that that there was a hidden world beyond that which I could see around me. In searching for this world I suppose I hoped to find the answers to all of life’s questions, and in my mind my search for this hidden world became unified with the quest for Truth itself. This quest ultimately led me to The Fairworld and to the Good Folk. But I soon learned that the Good Folk were not the answer that I sought. They are flawed and imperfect, and unworthy of man’s trust. And in learning this, I learned the hardest lesson of life: That there is no one you can rely upon but yourself. Not gods, not fairies, nor even men. And in learning this truth, I found a new purpose in life. The universe offers no salvation save that which men may seize for themselves. And so it became my mission to secure my own salvation by unlocking the greatest secret of all: The secret of immortality.

There is an answer out there, of that I am sure. The Good Folk are immortal, and they are hardly so far above us. If beings as flawed as they can be immortal, then surely men can snatch the secret from them. Already I have succeeded enough that I have outlived five generations of my family. But the final key is still out there, somewhere. I have spent close to a century trying to track it down, and with each year I grow just a bit closer. But my time is running out. I will not be able to keep extending my life forever, and soon nothing will be enough to forestall the spectre of death. These days I must take every opportunity to strengthen myself that I can, which you must understand is why I could not neglect the Rock of Skora.”

Lindsey swallowed. At last she finally felt like she understood the man’s behavior, yet somehow, she still didn’t know what to make of Horatio Dackery. She couldn’t quite bring herself judge him one way or another. She simply felt sorry for him.

“So is that what you wanted me to get for you out of Harin’s Vault? That book you took is part of all this, isn’t it?”

“Yes. The book I took from the vault is a treatise on the subject of immortality, perhaps the most complete there is. I have long known of its existence, but hitherto I had believed it would be forever outside my grasp. Thanks to you, that is no longer the case.”

Lindsey bit her lip.

“So why are you helping me now? You got what you wanted. What if the Zard catch up with us and kill us all? If all you want is to be immortal, then why are you risking your life for me?”

Dackery shrugged.

“If it weren’t for you I would never have gotten into Harin’s Vault.”

“I didn’t open the vault for you. You don’t owe me anything.”

“But perhaps I do.”

“I don’t want to hear it!”

“I suppose not. Perhaps it was just the decent thing to do nonetheless. Yours is a worthy endeavor. It would be a tragedy if it came to nothing. I would rather not see a young person throw away her life playing some pointless game of the fairies. You have a light of your own, Lindsey Fluger, and I will not stand by and watch that light be extinguished.”

Lindsey didn’t know what else to say. A part of her was still angry at Dackery, yet at the same time she felt grateful to him, not only for having told her the truth when she demanded it, but also for all his deeds up to now on her behalf, which seemed all the more profound to her now that she knew the truth. In all, she couldn’t make up her mind whether she admired the man or pitied him.

Lindsey shuffled awkwardly.

“Well, I guess we better finish getting settled for the night. Do you think we should….”

Suddenly, Dackery held his finger to his lips.

Lindsey looked around. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then, she turned around. There, perched high up on the ledge of a burned out wall, was a shabby, soot colored bird.

Lindsey’s mind flashed back to Dackery’s house in Connecticut. She had seen just such a bird there too. Its presence here could mean only one thing.

The witches had at last caught up with her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lindsey saw Dackery digging into the pouch on his belt. As he did so, the bird on the wall spread its wings, which suddenly began to grow as the bird transformed into a man in a dark hooded robe, still crouching on the top of the wall with his arms spread wide and a pair of small, fist sized silver shields gripped in each hand.

All of a sudden there was a string of ear splitting pops like overcharged firecrackers as Dackery drew his pistol and began firing at the man on the wall. Almost simultaneously a string of fuzzy images like small shields flashed into existence in front of the man and immediately winked out again as they absorbed the first barrage of bullets. As Dackery dug frantically into his pouch for a fresh magazine the man twitched one of the shields in his hand as another string of images appeared, this time hurtling straight at Dackery. The man was twitching both his hands madly as Lindsey and Dackery were subjected to a hailstorm of small ghostly shields, which struck at their bodies like so many flailing fists. At the same time two more men in dark robes appeared from behind concealment and rushed at Dackery. In a moment Dackery was overwhelmed, as one of the men grabbed him from behind while the other was trying to pry the pistol out of his hand. Lindsey scrambled frantically over to where her axe lay on the ground and snatched it from its cloth covering but was immediately knocked clear off her feet by another wave of ghostly shields pummelling her body.

Suddenly, there was an unearthly shout and for a moment the pummeling on Lindsey’s body stopped. She looked up to see Falknir a few feet away throwing rocks at the man on the wall while yelling all manner of weird curses. The man had twisted his body slightly to confront the new threat, and the ghostly shields were now appearing before him again and absorbing the rocks thrown by Falknir. Lindsey scrambled to her feet and ran over to Dackery, axe in hand. With a shriek, she raised her weapon and swuing it into the body of the body of the man holding Dackery from behind. Lindsey continued screaming as again and again she struck the man until at last he fell to the ground, hacked to death. With one arm now free, Dackery pulled a dagger from his belt and furiously stabbed the man in front of him over and over, until he too died.

As Dackery’s assailant crumpled to the ground Lindsey heard a shriek of helpless rage come from somewhere behind her. She spun around to see the man perched on the wall suddenly transform back into a bird. With another wail, the bird shot into the air and soared off into the darkening sky.

Falknir now jogged over to where Lindsey and Dackery stood.

“Well, that wasn’t any good at all. I came running as soon as I heard all the noise. Everyone alright?”

Lindsey had been speechless, standing frozen with her bloodied axe still clenched in her hands and tears streaming down her face as she stared fixedly at the bloody remains of the man she had just killed.

Meanwhile, Dackery had been examining the other corpse. He had just pulled aside the dark hood, and drew in a sharp breath as he did so.

“Falknir, come over and have a look at this.”

“Eh? My God, that’s Kren!”

Lindsey snapped out of her trance. Painfully she drew her eyes away from what she’d done and looked at the other body. It’s features were features partially disfigured by a gaping stab wound, but even so she recognized the man’s face instantly. It was indeed Kren. Lindsey felt sick.

Falknir and Dackery looked at one another.

“This is very bad, Dackery.”

“Indeed.”

“The witches must know everything by now.”

“Or very nearly.”

“My God, just think what he could have told them! All of us are in danger now. Casimir, Ibrahim, the monastery. Our whole society is in dire peril. They must be warned.”

“Not possible, Falknir. They could all be dead by now anyway. We have no time to lose if we are going to save ourselves.”

“You’re right. If Kren is here, then his masters can’t be far behind. We’d better get moving, it’s a race now. Forget the cart and the ox. They’re no good to us now.”

In a short while the three fugitives had gathered a few meagre belongings. They then fled into woods as the night fell all around them, while far in the distance the faint sound of Zard trumpets pierced the air. Soon, the woods and highways north of Skora were teeming with the soldiery of witches. The ponderous engines of bureaucracy being what they are (even among witches), it had taken Kren some time to navigate the echelons of the occupied city before he could finally present his case to the dark captains of the witch army. Though Kren was a known traitor, they had believed just enough of his tale that he was dispatched along with two others in pursuit of the feigned gem merchants, who were reported to have left the city by the north gate early that morning. By the time the lone survivor of that expedition had returned with tidings of Kren’s death, the captains of the witches had already been in contact with their far away masters and had confirmed his story for themselves. At that point, no efforts were spared. The legions of Zard poured forth from the city, and for days they scoured the land.

The sun was low on the horizon, casting its last rays like the desperate glimmers of a dying candle into the thorny depths of the woodland. Suddenly, the air was broken by the coarse thud of an axe burying itself into living heart of growing tree.

A pair of Zard soldiers were taking turns chopping into the woody flesh of a stately cedar. A little further away there were more Zard foraging around in the brambles, gathering kindling.

Everywhere, the woods were alive with Zard soldiery. Search parties were combing the woods in serried lines while high above dark birds soared over the treetops, peering into the depths of the forest below. As night fell the search carried on, though at at a noticeably slower pace. As the warmth of the sun faded so too did a bit of the Zard’s vigour, and as a harsh cold began to settle the Zard were building great fires. There they gathered, basking in the warmth of the dancing flames as they rested and fed upon the flesh of animals.

Elsewhere in the forest, not so very far from the roaring fires of the Zard, there was another encampment. In a miserable hollow beneath the sorrowful canopy of the trees, two men and a girl were huddled together in the cold, with no fire to warm them. For four days Lindsey, Falknir and Dackery had managed to elude the marauding patrols of the Zard. But their time was running out. With each passing day they became more and more hemmed in. Now, they were surrounded on all sides.

Lindsey tried to curl up a bit more on the hard ground as she drew her cloak closer about her body against the biting cold. They hadn't dared light a fire for fear that it might be spotted by the relentless Zard hunters or seen from the air by the shape shifting scouts of the witches. They had been running with almost no rest for days now, and they had only paused for another brief rest before making one final break for freedom past the Zard lines. Falknir and Dackery had tried to be optimistic about it, but they could hardly conceal their own despair. Deep down they knew it was hopeless just as well as she did.

Lindsey felt her thoughts begin wander and amble aimlessly as she drifted into a comfortless sleep. The cold was getting worse, and was starting to seep in through her clothes and bite into her skin.

Suddenly, Lindsey snapped awake. She was definitely a lot colder. And wet. Lindsey pulled herself up, and looked around.

Dackery and Falknir were nowhere to be seen. Lindsey was alone. And all around her there was a soft blanket of fresh fallen snow.

Lindsey pulled herself to her feet frantically, her breath freezing into mist against the chill wind as she did so. She was definitely not in the same place in which she had fallen asleep. The mournful, Zard infested woods were gone, and she stood now amidst a snow covered hillside.

Before her was an enchanted vista rolling away from her feet beneath the dome of an indigo sky filled with stars like a sea of glittering diadems. She was standing on a gentle ridge overlooking a great valley filled with craggy pinnacles and majestic hills clothed in shadowy evergreens which plunged deep into the earth to hidden gorges obscured by the night. All around her were great dark conifers, their silhouettes ornamented with a dusting of snow like silver gilding upon their inky limbs, while far in the distance the trees gave way to a sea of spindly argent mountains, with great snowy flanks sweeping up to their summits and piercing the sky like a thousand spears. In the very center of the valley there was a lone peak, a single mountain which rose up from heart of the earth like a great spire. At the foot of the mountain were the glimmering lights of a great walled city, while perched about halfway up one face, only faintly visible in the night, was what appeared to be a small castle with two great towers, clinging precariously to the precipitous slope of the mountain. Far on the horizon there was a faint orange glow like the last glimmers of sunset, while to one side of the great solitary mountain the moon was just visible, hovering low in the sky in a waning crescent of lustrous gold.

Lindsey had the strange feeling that she had seen this vista somewhere before. Or at least something very much like it. Her mind cast back to the last time she had been transported somewhere in her sleep. Yes, that was it! The last time something like this had happened she had come away in possession of a magic coin (which she had promptly lost), which had borne an image of a mountain together with the moon. That’s where she’d seen this place before, it had been depicted on the coin which Elred had given her.

“Where are you going?”

The voice had come from behind. Lindsey turned around, half expecting what she would see.

There, sitting cross-legged in the snow beside a merry fire, was Elred.

Lindsey felt a wave of relief sweep over her. She still didn’t know what was going on, but all of a sudden she now felt a surge of hope where once everything had been hopeless.

“Elred!”

“Good evening Lindsey. Where are you going? Come, sit down by the fire and warm yourself.”

Elred spread his hands and gestured towards the fire, the bells on his great wide sleeves tinkling a bit as he did so. At the same time the fire seemed to get just slightly bigger, popping and sparking cheerfully.

Lindsey walked over to the fire. Across from Elred she now saw a little rectangular brass stool covered with a blue velvet cushion and pierced with images of stars and crescents. She sat down, grateful to be spared a seat in the wet snow, and huddled close to the hot fire.

Elred beamed inscrutably at Lindsey, a benevolent smile playing faintly across his otherwise enigmatic and alien features.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“Uh, thanks. That’s good to hear. I was kind of hoping you were. How did you find me?”

“Horatio Dackery has an impressive network of contacts. We were confident that you had left Connecticut in Dackery’s company, and as such we began looking up his associates for news of his possible whereabouts. As it turns out, they were seeking us out at the same time that we were canvassing them in turn. This eventually led us back to Camilla Helwig, and from there we had to scour the Marklands in search of you. Dackery is very good at covering his tracks when he wishes to, which no doubt saved your lives even as it hindered us in the process. As it is, in the end it was the Zard themselves who ultimately led us to you. We were certain you were in the area, but had assumed that Dackery would have avoided Skora in the wake of the occupation. But the movement of so many troops over the last few days was impossible to overlook, and it didn’t take long for us to learn what they were up to. From there we simply shadowed their search parties and worked ahead of them. And I’m happy to say we got to you first.”

“Thanks. I’m grateful for that. Where am I now?”

“Here. Which happens to be quite far away from where you were.”

“And what about Dackery and Falknir?”

“They are safe for now. In a short while you will be re-joining them, and then my associates will escort you to Linster. That is, if you still intend to go there.”

“I do.”

“Excellent!”

“What about Hae-jin and the others? Are they alright? What happened to them?”

“They are well. They are in Linster at present with the Bird.”

Lindsey felt a lump appear in her throat. She hadn't thought about the Bird in days, but she was still angry at him about what happened at Harin’s Vault.

“Yeah. I think I’m going have a talk with the Bird next time I see him. I don’t suppose you ever found out why he abandoned me back there at Harin’s Vault?”

“I think it would be best if you asked the Bird himself about that the next time you see him.”

“I figured you’d say something like that. Are we done here?”

“If you wish. You have chosen a difficult path, Lindsey. A difficult path, and a dangerous one. My brethren and I are grateful for your deeds thus far, but there remains only so much I can do to protect you should you choose to proceed further. But for the moment, the immediate danger has passed.”

Lindsey jerked, feeling suddenly off balance, as if she had taken a gentle fall.

Elred was gone. The fire was gone. Lindsey was lying in the same dank hollow in which she had gone to sleep before.

Dackery and Falknir were crouched tensely beside her, swords drawn as they peered out into the darkness of the woods.

Lindsey rolled onto her knees, noting vacantly as she did so that her shoes and hose were still wet and cold, and as she squatted beside her fellows a few tiny bits of clinging snow fell away from her clothing.

There were lights in the woods. Five, maybe six of them. And as Linsey watched, she could just make out the shape of humanoid figures making their way towards them through the woods.

Lindsey clamoured to her feet. As she did so Dackery and Falknir both started with surprise, and one of them hissed a vain warning to stay back, but Lindsey ignored them as she jogged over to the newcomers.

There were three of them, carrying lanterns bearing celestial designs wrought in elaborate piercework. They were dressed in loose fur lined tunics of dark blue velvet which were richly embroidered with patterns of stars, and buckled at their waists were cross-hilted swords bearing the image of the crescent moon set within their pommels. Their feet were shod in tall, fur lined boots, and about their shoulders were great cloaks of deep midnight blue. Of the three, two were clearly men, one of whom was blonde and bearded while the other was dark haired and clean shaven. The third was a woman, slight of build and only a bit taller than Lindsey herself. And she was not precisely human. Her skin was the color of fine ivory, her ears were pointed and her eyes were a bright violet color. In some respects she resembled a Drixi, though being much shorter in height. Her features were likewise much softer and far more human, and her hair was jet black. And as Lindsey approached, she observed a silver badge affixed to the woman’s cloak, which bore the image of a lone mountain arrayed beneath the crescent moon.

From behind her there came a scrambling and puffing sound, and in a moment Falknir was standing beside her, panting slightly.

“Oh my sainted aunt”, he breathed, “Sauvlanders! What in the name of Arthur’s Beard are the likes of them doing here?”

The woman cocked a black eyebrow in his direction.

“My brethren and I are here to take you to Linster.”

“Ah? That’s jolly considerate of you. Though I’ll admit I’m a bit bewildered. The Sauvlands are thousands of leagues from here. You’ve come a dreadfully long way just to pick up a few vagrants. What on earth brought you here?”

“I think I know”, Lindsey interjected, “Elred sent you, didn’t he?”

The woman nodded.

Falknir seemed to have run out of things to say for the moment, but that was alright as it was plain that they needed to get going as soon as possible. The woods were still teeming with Zard, and Lindsey had no desire to put the Sauvlanders in any danger. She was about to ask how they planned to proceed when suddenly she caught her breath as three more blue-clad men stepped out of the woods, leading with them six extraordinary horses. They were great majestic creatures with coats of pure white and silvery grey, with tremendous wings of matching plumage folded against their sides. Without speaking further, the Sauvlanders mounted their steeds, taking their passengers with them in tandem.

Lindsey found herself horsed with the blonde haired bearded man. Of the six Sauvlanders, he was the only one who was unshaven and the only one with fair hair. And upon closer inspection, Lindsey realized that unlike the others this man was apparently human, with rounded ears and grey eyes. She felt a little giddy as he caught her up and gently eased her into the saddle before him, and there was an awkward but not entirely unpleasant moment when he wrapped his arm firmly around her waist and held her tightly against his body. It was going to be a cozy ride, that was for sure, but Lindsey was past caring and even laughed a little at herself as she decided that she could probably endure it. His clothes had a smoky, comfortable sort of smell to them, and his grip on her body was firm but not really any more personal that it needed to be. Besides, she had a feeling that under the circumstances she would prefer to have a very secure seat indeed. For abruptly, the Sauvlander spurred his horse, and the creature reared and spread its great wings. With a great sweep of its wings it leapt into the air and soared into the starry night sky.