Hunters

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Interlude

Ah ha. Chapter 15 already... this may be the last Interlude, or it may not. Depends on how quickly I tire of writing this story.

Now, as to Elfhame Fairgrove...

Right. I am not exactly sure if 'Dottie' is one of the Healers of Fairgrove, but an hour or so of dazed flipping through the pages yielded nothing definite. So let us assume it to be so. I can't even find her true name. However, Mary Morrison is also in Fairgrove for her own protection. Fairgrove seems to take these little 'charity' cases.

I will probably kick off Tannim and SharMarali Halanyn (had to check up the book for that) somewhere. For those unfamiliar with the series, Tannim and Shar are currently an item. Tannim is a human mage attached to Fairgrove, and Shar, a half-dragon half-kitsune (fox spirit) had been raised to be his evil mirror. They did the usual thing and fell in love, but since I don't like them both, so I won't write them.

I may make some changes to the text, because I am not sure of whom exactly is inside Fairgrove's SERRA team. I know Keighvin, Conal, Sarge Austin, Joe, Carrie...I'd have to make a count later through the two books. However, no specific descriptions will be given, since I can't really find them in the books and I don't wish to copy them outright. Read the books yourselves.

To Keighvin himself, he is the liege lord of Elfhame Fairgrove, but I can't find his full title. Too bad. Fairgrove's elves drive or 'build' racing cars, to raise funds for charity causes. The problem about this, since they are iron-intolerant, is that they cannot drive 'real' cars. So no Dodge Vipers.

Therefore, they use elvensteeds. This is a popular term in fantasy involving elves, but in this case elvensteeds are like shapeshifters whose favorite shape is that of a horse. They take the shape of cars, counterfeiting even the sounds of an engine, etc. However, the big names in racing usually have checks during races, and so although an elvensteed can counterfeit an engine, it won't survive a random check.

So, in Born to Run, there is this feller called Sam something...ah ha. Sam Kelly, or Doctor Samuel Sean Kelly, hired to make all the processes in the racing of Fairgrove complicated enough to explain the no-engine-yet-working cars. Consequently, there were various attempts on Sam's life by the Unseleighe court, which predictably failed.

And so on. I don't really mind Joe Brown, or Joseph Brown, the son of that psychotic cult-leader in one of the books in The Otherworld, hence he will be included. Though I am rather fond of Foxtrot FX, the four-tailed kitsune, he may or may not go into the story. Vague enough for you? Good.

A summary of the past five chapters: They go to Chinatown to visit a dragon incarnation called Jim, who introduces them to several new toys, including a Travel-Fox modeled after a real sniper rifle called the Tango 51. I liked the picture on the website...yes, you can buy sniper rifles on websites. Frightening, isn't it? They meet one Bard Michael, who had been terrorizing the Unseleighe community, and terminate him, during which Ellyn finds that not all vampires are bloodsucking animals.

Ellyn becomes better at the sniper and they go off on other conquests, which would be mentioned later. However, the important one takes place in S'Orce, the city of sorcerers, where they meet a Seleighe Sidhe called Akarn. He takes a long time to die and ends up poisoning Zak before killing himself. Then they take off to try and find Healers, ending with the name of one Mary Morrison, who happens to be currently working for Keighvin Silverhair, Tulan's old nemesis.

I am not going to take the confrontation very seriously, in case it degenerates into stereotypical magic fighting. How boring. Rather, I shall probably set Tulan loose in Fairgrove, spreading his own version of sarcasm and emotional damage on elves...or perhaps he would not be involved much. However, I doubt that Keighvin will buy any other little stories on how Zak got injured, where he came from and why Ellyn knows so much about the Underhill. The three of them gaining a reputation would help smooth over all the 'What are you doing with a human girl?' sort of questions.

Still, more will be accomplished with actually writing the next few chapters. I hope you are enjoying reading them as much as I do writing them...

Listening to Jon Bon Jovi,

-Anya, Doing it Her Way and knowing that It's Her Life. :)

Chapter 16: Keighvin

"Are you sure?" Zaknafein queried.

"What?" Tulan sounded distracted as he read through Renard's file on Mary Morrison.

Zak shrugged. "If this Keighvin is your enemy, he might not help us, and he may even inconvenience us."

"Yes well, he might end up killing all three of us," Ellyn added.

"Keighvin? Keighvin's not like that," Tulan said, then looked up with a sheepish grin. "I can't believe I just said that. But whatever that smart-assed, more-righteous-than-thou elf is, he doesn't kill without reason. Which means," the Bard added, "That he may kill me, but he probably wouldn't kill Zak, and he will not hurt you."

"Priorities, priorities," Ellyn grinned.

"If he recognizes you, he might try to get you to go back," Tulan said neutrally, not voicing what 'back' was, "Or get you to a Seleighe-run orphanage. If it comes to it, whatever you choose, I'd approve."

"Tulan!" Ellyn felt shocked and faintly betrayed.

"I'm not being hypocritical or trying to get rid of you," Tulan said seriously. "But it is your life, and your choice. I respect you enough for that, Ellyn. I'd be happy for you whatever way you choose, because I have really enjoyed living and working with you ... the both of you ... and whatever happens, I will always remember our time together."

Zaknafein nodded agreement. "If I die...again," he corrected without humor, "The past time with the two of you have been the best times of my life. It has been good knowing both of you ... even Tulan," he grinned.

"Guys," Ellyn sighed. "Sheesh. We're going to go through this together, and no one's going to die. Now, this Mary Morrison person. Do you think she'd help us?"

Renard had been watching them politely and with a certain wistfulness. "Mademoiselle Mary is a very kindly person, perhaps the archetypal Healer. She will try to heal your friend, for experience if nothing else. But Tulan, please try not to anger Fairgrove too much, or your friend's treatment may be tampered with."

"Thanks, Renard," Tulan smiled. "Right, about the fee..."

"We can deal with it after this business," Renard said graciously, "Your friend's life is of greater importance than paltry money. I will take you back to the portal room ... where you entered ... and you should leave straight for Fairgrove."

"Why does the portal room have such a thick door?" Ellyn asked.

"Because I have had certain attempts by personages on my life or on the information I keep," Renard said wryly. "Iron with murakan wood serves as a natural magical barrier against any attempts at breaching the room. But you have to go. Come back some day, Monsieur Tulan. We must have a little chat about your Healing powers. Perhaps during the truffle season...?"

"Your offer is tempting, friend Renard," Tulan grinned, "As well as the offer of your cooking. But I doubt any would actively approach me for a Healing."

"It's quite difficult to place your trust in an established assassin," Ellyn added playfully, and Zak chuckled.

"Well, you would never know," Renard smiled. "You are the only known Bardic talent now, other than some incidents in America, but which I have yet to approach. Good luck to you, all of you."

***

"Well, he was a nice person," Ellyn said as Tulan ended off the Gate spell with a few cursory notes. "Seleighe or Unseleighe?"

"Neither," Tulan took a few deep breaths. "He's sort of like your world's Red Cross society. He thinks all this Seleighe and Unseleighe Court businesses are nonsense, and he's never afraid to say so. Quite admirable in his way."

"Right, now where are we..." There was a loud squeal behind them of someone attempting to hit the brakes at high speed. Ellyn turned to see a racecar bearing down on them at terrifying speed, close enough for her to see the horrified visage of the driver...

Tulan's hands flew to his violin just as Zaknafein instinctively pushed her off the driveway, whirling to drag Tulan off as well.

Three notes on the violin.

Sprawled on the grass next to the paved driveway, Ellyn blinked as the car suddenly lifted off into the air, wheels turning crazily but touching nothing, eventually slowing down. Grimly, Tulan played a few more notes, and the car dropped back onto the paved road. Metal ticked as it cooled.

"That," Tulan said, letting out a pained breath, then sitting down abruptly on the road as his legs gave, "Was too damned close."

The driver climbed quickly out of the door and walked to them anxiously. "Are you all right?" Ellyn watched with a certain wry amusement as 'what happened?' finally filtered in, then his eyes narrowed. "Who the hell are you people, and how did you do that?"

Ellyn got to her feet. "Hi," she said, and wished she had left the rifle with Renard as the driver glanced at her and took a few involuntary steps backwards. Suddenly, Ellyn felt incredibly and totally irritated with everything that had happened and was happening to her.

"I know I have a rifle, and it's not a toy," she snapped, "We're not here on that sort of business. We need the help of someone called Mary Morrison for my friend Zak here, who's suffering from poisoning. If you can't help, we're so sorry for spoiling your day, but we'd ask someone else, ok? If you aren't acquainted with elves before, this can be a bad dream. Fine with you?"

"Ellyn," Zaknafein said firmly, but he was hiding a grin - unsuccessfully.

"Mary... Morrison?" the driver looked slowly at the three of them, his eyes lingering on Zak's swords and hands, her gun, then on Tulan's violin.

"And what is the problem?" Ellyn raised an eyebrow. "If you wish, we can disarm ourselves, and you can get Miss Morrison to examine Zak in front of a huge crowd of people. We've been through a very harrowing time, and I'd be obliged if you leave all the challenging to later, okay?"

Some of her bitterness and desperation must have leaked through, because the driver rocked on his heels uncertainly. "Er." He looked past her.

Elves and humans alike were boiling out of the building of Fairgrove Industries.

"Just great," Ellyn looked furious, and neither Tulan nor Zaknafein blamed her. "I think we should have just asked Miss Morrison personally."

"I think you had better join them," Tulan was telling the driver, "In case they think we're holding you hostage or something." He grinned sheepishly, "That didn't come out too well, did it?"

"Well..." the man looked back at them, then loped over to join the ranks of elves and humans.

It looked like a movie casting, Ellyn thought wryly. Elves in strange armor, holding swords, mingled with humans in 'ordinary' clothing, black coveralls with jeans, holding iron weapons and guns. Ellyn reached automatically for the rifle, but Tulan held up a hand.

A tall silver-blonde elf approached, holding a very long, blue-sheened broadsword warily. He was wearing elven armor, but his hair was tied back in a ponytail. He stopped a short distance away from them.

"Black Bard," he inclined his head in mocking greeting. His emerald green eyes swept over Ellyn and Zak, and he frowned. "If you wish to take your revenge, you are more than welcome to try. But the child..."

"I am not a child," Fury swept away courtesy and tact. Ellyn was tired, both physically and emotionally. She was also upset and more than a little afraid of what may happen if this 'Keighvin' refused them help just because of Tu lan's past. "And I know precisely what you will say to that. I'm with Tulan, and frankly we're here now just to help Zak. This doesn't involve you at all ... unless you have some hidden power that can heal the Devil's Burn, eh?"

"Ellyn," Tulan tried. Ellyn waved him silent.

"Heard of that, have you?" she rounded squarely on the elf, who stared at her in astonishment mixed with a certain consternation. "It's poison, and a bloody horrible one at that. I don't care what fight you and Tulan have, but so long as I'm concerned, you can go and roll dice for it for all I care. I haven't slept for two days, and I'm tired and severely annoyed with all the delay! We've been running around all of Underhill trying to find a Healer for the job, and now that we've found one..." Ellyn wrung her hands in frustration. "You...oh, forget it. I don't care who you are or what you do. I just want to heal my friend."

The silence was tremendously empty. Even Tulan gaped at her as if she had just grown wings and started to fly. Ellyn willed herself not to blush furiously, and wished the earth would swallow her up.

"Well said," Zaknafein murmured, winking at her. She grinned briefly in his direction, but could feel the blush working up her cheeks...Zak coughed then, a terrible hacking sound, as if trying to cough up his lungs.

"Jamie?" Keighvin said, as if the coughing had broken a spell.

The driver stepped forward. "They didn't hurt me," he shrugged. "I nearly ran them over, though. They just appeared in front of me on the driveway."

Keighvin nodded dismissal. He seemed to be used to giving orders. He looked at Ellyn again, more closely this time. "Ellyn...Ellyn Forrester?"

"Just Ellyn," Ellyn said automatically. "Hey. How'd you know that?"

"You've been missin' two years," Keighvin shot Tulan an angry, accusing glare.

"Don't blame me, Silverhair," Tulan held up his hands. "She wanted to come."

Ellyn rolled her eyes. "Right, Mister Silverhair," she managed to convey an edge of sarcasm, disregard for his full title, and a certain mocking touch in one word, "My parents were divorcing. I didn't like school. My father was drinking. I don't like the idea of working really, really hard learning stupid things like circular measure and Newton's Law when I have absolutely no interest in math or physics at all, and most likely am not going to use those 'when I grow up'. Believe me, I made Tulan take me with him. Good Lord, do you think I'm so brainless as to tag behind someone I didn't want to follow for so long?"

Two years? She'd only been away for...oh yes, Underhill-Human time zones. Time passed more quickly on Earth that in the Underhill.

That pulled a few chortles from the 'enemy' ranks, then a rather plump woman in her mid-twenties shook off a few restraining hands and walked quickly over to them.

"Mary!" Keighvin started forward in horror.

"Miss Morrison?" Tulan bowed as she approached.

"That's me," Mary Morrison spoke calmly and quickly, all business, but her hazel eyes twinkled endearingly. She peered at Zaknafein, then with total reassurance grabbed his hand and felt his pulse, raising an eyebrow at the fur.

"Accident," Zaknafein grinned, then coughed again.

"You've been treated twice," Mary said, not an accusation nor assumption, just simple fact.

"Korn and the Abbot Najing," Tulan said, "Renard recommended you."

"Ah, Renard," To Zak's surprise, Mary pulled down his face and pulled back the skin a little to see his eye whites. To his probable greater surprise, he made no protest. Ellyn grinned at the resigned expression on his face.

There was a small, confused murmur in front of them, like children whose toys had just been confiscated. Keighvin strode up to stand next to Mary, accompanied by a few elves and humans. They looked rather confused and concerned about Mary's safety.

"It's the Devil's Burn," Mary nodded. "How did you...I suppose it doesn't matter. Right, I'd help you."

"Thank you so much!" Ellyn said in a rush, a relieved smile breaking out over her face.

"There's a bit of self interest in that - it'd be good on my records to heal such a case," Mary smiled briefly at her. "Come on in, then."

"Mary..." Keighvin began. "Tulan is the Black Bard. He..."

"You want my violin, you can have it," Tulan sighed. "I'm not here to fight you today, Silverhair, though by the Morgana, or Morrigan as you Seleighe call her, I'd be more than happy to send all the elves from here to Japan into Dreaming, or to grill you over a rack until you die. You know me well enough that I do not make empty threats. However, it's a Stradivarius, and if you break it, you're going to buy me a replacement."

Some of the elves and at least one of the humans grinned at this. Keighvin blinked, then accepted the proffered instrument, then looked at Ellyn, or rather, Ellyn's rifle.

"This is also very expensive, and I want it back," Ellyn sighed and unstrapped the Travel-Fox. "If it's all the same with you, I'd rather hand it to someone who's more familiar with guns than swords."

"I can hold it for you," one of the humans next to Keighvin said. Ellyn glanced at him ... a boy with blond hair and blue eyes, very muscular, rather handsome. She shrugged, and handed the rifle over, along with the ammunition bag and the Bowie knife, noticing that he was holding a semi-automatic machine gun himself, though in an 'at ease' position.

Zaknafein drew his katanas, handing them to another human. Then he proceeded to remove an astonishing number of knives and other weapons secreted in his body, forming a small but impressive heap on the ground. Finally he tossed his boot knife and the shuriken, then grinned wickedly at Tulan's expression.

"I don't want to know where you got those," Tulan said finally, dropping his rapier onto the pile. "I have a feeling it involves my money."

"You are correct," Zaknafein inclined his head mockingly.

"Are you coming?" Mary raised an eyebrow. Zaknafein nodded to them then followed Mary towards the building.

Ellyn slumped against Tulan's shoulder, and the Bard put a protecting arm around her shoulders. "I'm glad that's over," she muttered, then looked up frankly at Keighvin, meeting the elf's emerald-green eyes with her faded-blue ones. "Thanks."

Keighvin shook his head reflexively. "I wish Tannim were here," Ellyn heard him murmur.

"That's a first from ye," one of the elves with him smiled. The others were warily returning to the building. "Ye ain't so loud about it when he's here, but when he goes honeymoonin' wit' Shar, it's 'Tannim would'ha known how to fix this' and 'Tannim would'ha loved to see this' all day. I'm surprised everyone ain't gone over to Paris and dragged Tannim back just to shut ye up."

"Mom!" Keighvin protested.

"Your mom?" Ellyn blinked. The elf who had spoken looked even younger than Tulan.

"The admirable Lady..." Tulan began graciously, but Ellyn interrupted. The initial wash of sweet, warm relief and been abruptly taken over by sheer fatigue.

"Are there guest rooms around here?" she asked, the consequences of two days without rest catching up on her in a rush, "I think I need some sleep."

The boy whom had taken her rifle glanced at Keighvin, who nodded briefly. "I'd show you a room," he said.

Tulan watched the two of them walk away, then turned back to Keighvin. "I think we need to talk," he said coolly. "Without trying to kill each other, which may be difficult." Some of those remaining smiled at this. "First, do you know about a certain plan to open up Heaven's Gates?"

***

"There're a few guest rooms in the back," the boy was saying as they threaded their way through the offices. Some of the clerks ... or whatever they were ... looked up and waved at them or gave them odd looks before returning to their work.

Ellyn shrugged. She didn't really care.

"Did you really use this?" he asked, when they seemed to have passed the main office section. He handled the gun very well for someone who looked like a mechanic, sensitive fingers running over the barrel.

"Did you think I carried it on my back for fun?" Ellyn snapped back. Then she sighed deeply. "Damn, when I'm tired I can't seem to keep myself civil."

The boy flashed her a brief, shy smile. "My name's Joe ... Joseph Brown."

"Ellyn," Ellyn replied. She was too tired to think about using a 'fake' name, which was probably of no use in the circumstances anyway.

"That's an unusual name," Joe said.

"I can't say the same for you," Ellyn replied, then frowned. "Oh dear..."

"It's true anyway," Joe smiled again. "Why was Keighvin so upset about your friend?"

"They go a way back," Ellyn shrugged, then rolled her eyes. "Apparently Keighvin and Madoc locked Tulan up in his Hall for several centuries. Tulan is naturally not happy about it. Keighvin thinks Tulan is a psychotic killer. Tulan thinks Keighvin is a smart-assed...pardon my language...weakling. It goes along those lines. Amusing if you think about it..."

"Oh," Joe seemed to be allowing this to sink in. "Keighvin worked with Madoc? As in Madoc Skean?"

"Just that once," Ellyn replied, "Why?"

"I... I killed Madoc," Joe's grip on the Travel-Fox tightened for a moment. "It was necessary at the time," he added quickly, as if afraid of her reaction.

Ellyn laughed shortly. "I'm sure Tulan will be very happy for you."

Joe blinked, as if this wasn't the reaction he had been expecting.

"I'm a sniper, Joe," Ellyn drawled, "I have killed. What, do you think that it's a water-pistol? Frankly, it doesn't really bother me. If it bothers you, too bad, sonny-boy, but your opinion or the opinion of most of the people in this world don't matter to me anymore."

Joe didn't answer, but Ellyn could see that he was attempting to come to terms with this revelation. She was surprised at it, herself, but she did finally realize at that moment that opinions would never matter to her any longer. And truly, the killing didn't bother her, not because she had some sort of 'mental shield' to it, but because she simply didn't get upset about it.

"You've handled a gun before," she continued, "Don't tell me you've never killed anyone with it."

Joe flushed slightly, then looked relieved as they stepped into a small living room, three walls with six doors leading to small rooms. "Take any room," he said, changing the subject, "The toilets are...well, we passed them just now."

"Right," Ellyn nodded, walking quickly to the closest room, entering, then closing the door. She managed to remove her boots ... black leather Doc Martens, purchased recently ... and reach the bed before falling into a deep sleep.

***

Joe watched Ellyn as she walked to her room. Despite the tired droop of her shoulders, she walked with a quiet assurance and self-confidence, like a hunter. She seemed to have burned off any baby-fat she would have had, for she was lean and lithe, though petite, she still seemed to radiate such strength that she might as well have been six feet tall. Striking for one apparently so young.

He might have to talk again to her later, but right now Sarge would be demanding his presence back down in the workshop. They had been attempting to patch up a tricky maintenance problem with the defenses of Fairgrove when Keighvin suddenly called for everyone to arm themselves and go to the driveway.

Joe was Sensitive ... he had felt the large wash of magic along with every other with his Talent in the workshop, along with music that seemed to be sounding out in his heart. First a complex, 'tying-off' melody, then the three perfect notes.

Conal had muttered something about 'Bardic magery' as he materialized a sword. Most of the people were rather bewildered by the announcement, but were ready as commanded. Keighvin was their leader...as well as his.

The sight outside was incongruous. A girl in T-shirt and jeans, with a sniper rifle strapped to her back. A dark elf with a violin, and another 'type' of elf, obviously injured.

Joe lifted the rifle up to the light. It was incredibly well-made, better than anything his father ... or the cult ... had ever bought before when they were still...when his father was still a psychotic madman bent on unleashing the Salamander on Earth through defenseless children.

He made a last glance at the door, shook his head to clear the memories, before wandering off to the workshop. He may have to examine the rifle later.

***

Zaknafein watched curiously from the bed in the 'sick room' section of the building. The other cots weren't filled, but there were a few elves and humans watching on.

Mary pulled a chair up to the bed, then her eyes became unfocussed, hands tightly clasped together.

Zaknafein had been expecting the small light-show that sometimes accompanied a healing in the Underdark, or at least to feel something...but nothing. Mary continued to sit in the chair without reaction, as if in a trance.

Some of the elves and humans seemed to be watching intently, as if there was something happening, but he just couldn't see it.

Very quickly, he began to get bored. He did hope that he would be cured, but whether he was or not did not seem to matter that much too him...if he had to die, he would. It didn't mean he'd be happy about it, though...

He was idly recalculating the odds of being able to take on everyone in the room and still survive for his own amusement when Mary jerked awake, as if she had been a puppet whose strings had just been abruptly pulled.

Mary looked as though she had aged several years. She smiled wearily at his raised eyebrow. "I've managed to neutralize most of the poison, and 'taught' your body to do the rest. Strangely, you're..."

"Dead?" Zak provided.

"In that way, yes," Mary ran a hand through her glossy hair. "I can't do much more, because I cannot be sure if I took out all of the poison in this purge. However, you will probably come down with high fever as your body starts to fight the rest of the poison. Unfortunately, I think that the hallucinations may begin, taking the place of fever-dreams."

Zaknafein nodded, feeling confident. He should be able to handle hallucinations...

"Therefore, I'd have to get a constant watch on you," Mary added. She didn't say in case you try to do yourself or someone else an injury. It was pretty much understood. "Now, get some rest."

"You too, Mary," one of the elves put in, "The purge took a lot out of you."

Mary nodded, getting up from the chair. "Sleep well," she told Zaknafein in a weary voice, "You'd need it."

Zaknafein waited until all of them had left the 'sick-room', except for two male elves whom sat down on the bed next to him, obviously the first 'Watch'. He shrugged, removing his chain mail, piwafwi and boots, placing them in a neat pile next to the bed then curling up in the cot.

He fell asleep nearly immediately, even though he had an uncomfortable feeling between his shoulder blades.

His hell would begin shortly.

Chapter 17: Snarls

"You designed this?" Tulan raised an eyebrow at Keighvin's office. The large glass windows showed a good view of the gardens below, which seemed to have been left to grow naturally into some sort of clearing. There were a lot of potted plants involved in the office, as well as a small goldfish pond.

There was a pause.

"No," Keighvin admitted.

"Thought so," Tulan said bluntly. The jibe slipped off Keighvin like water off a lotus leaf, and the lord of Fairgrove sat down in a stuffed swivel chair behind the desk, unruffled.

"Something wrong wit' it, Bard?" Keighvin's mother quirked her eyebrow as she sat down on the edge of the desk, shoving a lot of papers to the side to make a space.

"Just noticed it doesn't have badly framed photographs of Rosaleen Dhu, swords, clashing colors, and horrible tapestries," Tulan said innocently.

She chuckled. "Aye, I had a hard time keeping his hands off the designs."

"Mom!" Keighvin protested again.

Tulan smiled. The Lady Lanaeyln reminded him of a certain Lady Dierdre, now deceased...as well as his own mother, whom he had last seen cursing him for killing his sister.

He didn't recognize the other elves in the room - three males, one female, and he didn't much care. After a little 'chat' on the driveway, he found that Fairgrove was rather ignorant of the Heaven's Gate incidents. Apparently Keighvin had been approached, but he thought it was a prank of sorts.

"So. About this plot," Keighvin said. The elf was making an effort to be businesslike, Tulan saw, but there were still banked fires in his emerald green eyes. Tulan could respect that - for the time being.

Tulan nodded. "You are aware of the prophecies?"

"The Bible?" Keighvin inquired.

"Inaccurate. I'm talking about Dinaeve's Books." Tulan said.

"The Anti-Christ will open the Gates of Hell and Heaven/By her side will ride the Four/Before her stand the Seven/After her fly the..." one of the elves smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, that's all I can remember."

"Thanks, Conal." Keighvin nodded. "It has been a long time since I've read her Books."

"Conal? Read?" one of the males feigned shock. Tulan grinned.

"'Twas that wee incident wit' th' scholar at th' Raind crossroads, ain't it?" the female smiled sweetly. "Conal, I'm shocked wit' ye! Ye cain't even remember more'n that small part of the Seven books anymore?"

"What incident?" Tulan said, with wicked curiously. Conal blushed.

"Conal challenged a scholar. Unfortunately, he lost," one of the males smirked. "Reading was his punishment."

"What's so bad about that?" Tulan raised an eyebrow.

"I had to memorize one of the Elven Prophecies and recite it to the scholar come the next summer equinox," Conal recalled with a sigh. "Dinaeve's seven torturous Books were the shortest."

"We're sidetracking," Keighvin said firmly. "Now. What about Dinaeve's Books?"

"Supposedly pretty accurate, for all the silly prose," Tulan shrugged.

"Careful," Lanaeyln cautioned, but with a wicked smile, "Dinaeve was once a very good friend of mine...before her accident."

Tulan bowed mockingly, and Keighvin's mouth tightened. "Very well. Dinaeve foretold the birth of an Anti-Christ, and then the opening of the Gates to Heaven and Hell. She is famously vague about that. However, she was very precise as to what is going to happen to the Earth."

"Burned into a crisp. Destroyed." Conal affirmed at Keighvin's glance.

"No more race cars," Tulan added.

The elves blinked, and Tulan smiled to himself. At least something got through.

"No cars in Heaven or Hell. No matter, since elves don't really belong to either. And you know about the Underhill. If the Earth is totally destroyed, you'd all be stuck in Underhill...for the rest of your lives." Tulan shrugged. "Not good."

"Obviously," one of the male elves sighed.

"Why are you interested in this, Tulan?" Keighvin raised an eyebrow. "You are Unseleighe. Your kin do not like humans, nor Earth."

"Whoa, Silverhair," Tulan held up a hand. "Who said I don't like humans? I don't mind them...and I happen to like Earth, thank you. This Opening-Heaven's-Gates trash seems to be happening already, and I want to watch the Star Wars sequel."

"Star Wars?" Lanaeyln sniggered.

"Nothing wrong with it," Conal said defensively.

"So speaks Obi-Wan," murmured one of the elves, and snickered loudly at what was probably a private joke. Keighvin shot them a warning glare until they subsided, then turned back to Tulan. "You do not expect me to believe that is all of why you wish to help."

"I like Earth, Silverhair," Tulan's eyes narrowed. "I like what the humans make - my favorite object in the universe is my Stradivarius, after all. Earth isn't paradise, or even close - just look out in the slums and at the pollution - and neither is it home. But I used to enjoy visiting Earth from the Underhill. I find it very stimulating. And contrary to what you think, a lot of Unseleighe are attached to this planet as well."

"Oh?" Keighvin raised an eyebrow in magnificent disdain. Tulan caught his own temper on the verge of flaring up, and inwardly cursed the Seleighe and the Unseleighe for spreading down rumor on rumor and story on story of the opposite Court until it became so difficult for a member of one Court to have a normal conversation with a member of the other.

Tulan sighed. "Silverhair...have you ever met a Bane-Sidhe called Dhaal vid H'ar?"

"No..." Keighvin frowned, but Lanaeyln nodded slightly, her lips curving into a mischievous smile.

"The Sherlock Holmes fanatic?" she supplied.

"Good show," Tulan exaggerated British speech.

"Who?" Keighvin looked even more lost, as did the other elves.

"Dhaal's your average smelly Bane-Sidhe. Third most powerful or something - but definitely top ten. The only thing really different is that he is totally mad about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's legendary detective," Tulan smirked. "Brought him with us to London once. Made the mistake of visiting Baker Street - Ellyn finally had to pry him away by threat of coming back later to set fire to 221B if he didn't leave...the supposed home of Sherlock Holmes. Dhaal was so horrified, he nearly slapped on a major ward on the place immediately, until we convinced him she was joking."

"He won't be too happy if Earth burned up," Tulan continued, "Dhaal collects Sherlock Holmes stories - by other authors, of course. He has Conan Doyle's entire collection. He's funding up to a dozen that I can think of now, and also the head of several 'Sherlockian' societies - incognito, of course. There, Silverhair - what do you say to that?"

"Exception..." Keighvin began, but he trailed off under Tulan's stare. "Very well. What else do you know about this 'plot'?"

"If you happen to open the Gate to Heaven, Hell's Gate will open shortly after," Tulan shrugged. "To tell the truth, I don't know much about this at all. Whoever's in charge has it tightly under wraps - my normal sources are empty. But I haven't approached everyone I wish to yet. It appears we may need more help - damn Seleighe and Unseleighe differences."

Keighvin nodded slowly, though suspiciously. "Aye, Bard. It looks like we have no choice but to help, but I would like to verify this story first..."

There was a loud snarl, vicious and primal, like that of an immense cat freshly escaped from the wilds, furious and menacing and oddly filled with a note of horror and fear. The elves blinked as, following the snarl, came several fainter yells of astonishment and fright.

"That was Ronnie," Conal breathed. "He sat up with... your friend..."

Tulan was already running for the door, Keighvin following closely.

***

Ellyn shot upright in the bed when she heard the first snarl. At first her hand groped for her gun, then her sleepy brain registered two things: One, that she no longer had her gun; Two, that the snarl was with Zak's voice...

She flew out of the bed, thankful that she had gone to sleep with her normal clothes instead of using the pajamas in the closet, wearing her boots quickly before running out towards the source of the sound.

Ellyn met up with the boy... Joe, she remembered, halfway. "Your friend..." he began, matching her stride.

"I know," Ellyn said irritably. "Where is he?"

"This way."

They weaved through more corridors until they reached a large room. Several elves were crowding in, as well as a few humans. The elves in the room were shouting to each other, hands outstretched, palms smoldering in the Sight.

On the bed, Ellyn's eyes finally disentangled the writhing figure to that of Zaknafein, snarling in fury, claws tearing up the sheets, fighting against the bindings on him.

The elves were frightened, that was for sure. Whatever binding threads he touched with the claws, he snapped. Seeing this, the humans started to help, weaving threads of their own around Zaknafein.

Intermingled with the snarls and growls was Zaknafein's voice, screaming imprecations in a language that she did not understand. From the look of the others, they didn't, either, but the words, vituperant and venomous, could generally be understood. His pupils were dilated, and passed over them unseeingly, as if what he was observing was totally different but still overlaid on them...

One word seemed to be often used - Lloth. She understood then - he was dreaming or hallucinating about his 'old' life, before he entered the Underhill by chance. And it was clearer now why he had always been angry when she expressed the slightest approval, joking or otherwise, of 'drow' society...she had never seen him this afraid, or this angry, a black anger fueled by fear.

Ellyn watched with horrified fascination as Zak's claws flashed in the Sight, severing the binding threads with each swipe, even those of human make. He seemed more catlike, less human, no longer the calm, elegant elf she had lived with for the past months. The fury and menace and dark fear he exuded now scared her, wrapped cold fingers around her heart, allowed her only to stare in shock, not knowing what to do to help or stop him.

"Oh boy," Joe murmured next to her, eyes wide.

"Hold him!" Mary shouted, projecting her voice over the crowd, "I'd try to sedate him." The woman held a hypodermic needle in one hand, calm as ever even in the violent scene, not frightened at all.

"You might get hurt!" one of the elves replied, restraining her. His shirt was torn open, and he was very pale. "His claws shift into that which would hurt you most - if Ronnie hadn't dragged me back, I'd have been killed by the iron that his claws turned to!"

Mary might get hurt, Ellyn thought in a daze, then her resolve hardened, breaking the hold fear had on her. Before anyone could stop her, she darted forward.

Some of the elves and humans shouted at her, but it was too late. She reached Zaknafein and hugged him tightly, hands around his chest. "Wake up, Zak!" she heard her voice say forcefully and calmly, and at that moment, she was certain she would die, as mad eyes stared down at her from Zaknafein's handsome face.

Elves and humans shouted at her to run, but she ignored them.

"Wake up! Please!" she pleaded, then cried out in pain as one claw raked over her jeans at her thigh, tearing it open. It hurt sharply, searing fire, and Ellyn felt the wetness of blood from the wound soaking into her jeans.

Zaknafein's eyes seemed to clear at her cry, and he blinked down at her, then his eyes looked at his bloody hand, then at her jeans. Ellyn bit her lip, fighting down a moan of pain, and stared at him full in the eyes.

"I'm sorry," Zak whispered, and hugged her back. The binding threads relaxed.

"It doesn't matter," Ellyn said fiercely. "Zak, you had better sleep. Nothing else really matters."

"Ellyn? Morgana..." Tulan was behind her, staring at her wound. But when his eyes met Zak's, they were not accusing, but understanding. "Would you like to sleep now?" he said softly.

Zak nodded, and in that single, exhausted expression was all the humiliation and suffering that was possible for a being to know. The cry of pain in Ellyn's throat melted away, and her eyes filled.

Tulan began to sing, not words, but the notes of a song that sounded ancient and forgotten, before words had been thought of, before notes had been written, light and lulling, soothing and calming, but with an overlying sadness that was nearly painful to listen to. Some of the elves sighed in appreciation.

When he finished, Zaknafein was asleep, and Ellyn gently let him down onto the bed, pulling up the blankets to cover him. On his face was a faint smile - of peace.

She looked up and started to blush again. The other elves and humans were staring at them, and in her mind she nearly heard their jaws dropping.

Mary appeared by the bed and peered at Zaknafein, then nodded at Tulan. "That looks useful," was all she said, then she frowned at Ellyn's wound. Her eyes became blank for a moment, then Ellyn felt a near-unbearable itchiness as the wound closed up.

"What...what song was that?" Ellyn asked, trying to fill up the silence.

"Eh? Oh. Heart of Maekal." Tulan said, then something seemed to click in his mind as he whirled on her. "Ellyn, did you realize how dangerous it was for you to dance right into that?"

Ellyn raised her chin defiantly. "He woke up."

"You could have died!" Tulan shook his head irritably. "But I see you're not in the mood for a lecture now. Go back to sleep."

"Maybe I've slept enough." Ellyn folded her arms.

"Whatever you've done..." Tulan looked over at Keighvin. "Do you have extra clothes? I doubt those jeans are repairable."

"Aye," Keighvin nodded, then looked straight at Ellyn. "You have remarkable courage, Ellyn Forrester."

"Courage?" Ellyn smiled self-deprecatingly. "I was terrified."

"But you did it anyway," Joe pointed out. "Courage."

Ellyn shrugged, but felt pleased. "Zak's my friend."

"Fresh clothing," one of the humans said firmly, grasping Ellyn by the arm and propelling her out of the room. Joe looked back at the elves and humans, then loped after her.

Tulan raised an eyebrow at Keighvin, who shrugged. "Joe is about her age. I hoped that she would talk to him, if to no other."

"I see," Tulan smiled coldly. "You don't give up, do you?"

"Ellyn is a child, Black Bard," Keighvin's voice also hardened. "As a Seleighe Sidhe, I am bound to help children."

As the two elves stared at each other with fury, tension filled the room nearly palpably. The others surreptitiously settled into positions, ready to separate the two or help Keighvin if a magical fight broke out.

Mary broke it. "Is everyone done here?" she said calmly, "Out."

***

Ellyn, dressed in a loose blouse and khaki cargo pants, felt fresher and cleaner. The warm bath had done wonders. Weariness slid away, replaced by restlessness.

Zak hadn't woken up yet, from what she had heard. She was glad of that - he obviously didn't seem to be enjoying the hallucinations.

Joe looked up as she stepped out of the toilets, distractedly combing her wet hair. She didn't know what happened to her former clothing, but she wasn't attached to it.

"Would you like some lunch?" he asked, but Ellyn smiled as she felt his eyes on her. He was admiring, but shy, as if he had been refused all too many times because of something he had done.

"That would be nice," Ellyn said, then grinned impishly. "But I think I'd like to be here when Tulan kicks Silverhair's butt."

Joe winced slightly at that, then returned her grin involuntarily. "No chance of that happening anytime soon," he said, "They're holding a war council on the Gates of Heaven thing."

"Lunch, then." Ellyn, feeling devilish, smiled fully at him, eyes twinkling. She held back a chuckle as he blushed.

***

"It's been a long time since I've eaten enchiladas," Ellyn commented. They were in a 'fast-food' restaurant near Fairgrove industries. The decoration was comfortable and cozy, and the food was excellent. Hand-rolled tortillas stuffed with minced beef and topped with melted cheese, with a salsa dip...

Joe was having the same. They had taken an elvensteed over - Ronnie's Kalaln Aurora, which was now having a small snooze in the form of a battered, unremarkable car in the parking lot outside. The elves had 'ordered' take-away which they would have to bring back when they finished - apparently there was some TV show that everyone wanted to watch.

"Ellyn, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" Joe said impulsively. Keighvin had asked him - no, told him to 'talk' to Ellyn, ask her about her life with Tulan...but he felt so much like a spy. Now that it was out in the open, he felt better...somewhat.

"You're asking one." Ellyn shot back mischievously, then shrugged. "Sure."

"Ellyn, are you happy?" Joe leant forward, radiating a certain intense seriousness.

Ellyn gave him a quizzical glance. "What sort of question is that?"

"A good one, I hope," Joe smiled briefly.

"Since you put it that way - yes, I am happy. Though currently Zak's condition is upsetting, but I love being part of 'the team', as Tulan puts it. I love using the Travel-Fox, I love to wander both the Underhill and Earth - and I love them both." Ellyn shook her head at the look on Joe's face. "Not in that way. I love them as brothers that I never had. Sometimes we quarrel - as siblings do - but most of the time we get along. I love them as all my family rolled in one...more than my true family. Did you know, I don't miss my 'true' family at all?" Ellyn was serious, her tone a little whimsical, but also with the heaviness of truth.

Joe stared.

Ellyn smiled, rather wistfully, as she leaned back on the gaudy seat. "We always have fun on an assignment. I've rollerbladed down Hay Street in Perth with Zak and Tulan, eating chocolate ice cream. We've eaten fish and chips in a harbor restaurant near Fremantle Market...stayed in the Sofitel of Melbourne...where Zak was very embarrassing by asking very loudly in Myers where the weapon's section was..."

"We've ridden the Bullet train in Japan, gotten lost in Singapore's Suntec City, visited London with a Bane-Sidhe, walked on China's Great Wall, navigated through the Amazon Rainforest on a leaking wooden boat..." Ellyn broke off, and her eyes focussed back on Joe. "And you know something? Though I've nearly died in most of the incidents, I enjoyed being there. I feel really alive when there's risk or danger, when we 'hunt', as Tulan puts it."

"Oh." Joe tried to absorb it.

"No doubt if I'd never met them, I'd have gotten a boring school diploma, gone to university, and become some sort of lawyer." Ellyn laughed shortly. "I never knew what I wanted to be, because everything sounded so mundane. So boring. And now...I know. What I want to do for the rest of my life." She smiled ruefully at him. "I don't care who thinks it's stupid or evil...I don't care who tries to place the blame on my shoulders or on my friends. It's what I want to do...no one can take that away. Yes, I would say I'm happy."

"Ah..." Joe looked at her again, then frowned. "You seem to be glowing in the Sight. Like a shielded candle."

"I'm doing that on purpose," Ellyn smiled. "Took you this long to see it?"

"It's hard to pick out such a small 'aura' in a roomful of elves," Joe admitted. "But what is it? Are you Sensitive too?"

"If you mean whether I can use Mage-Sight, yes, I am," Ellyn glanced at the people in the restaurant, but none seemed to be paying their table any attention.

"It's something else," Joe said, "But I can't put my finger on it..."

"Can you keep a secret, Joseph Brown?" Ellyn asked. He'd find out eventually, anyway - he was intelligent. But if she told him first, and then asked him to keep it a secret...Keighvin would take a longer time to find out. Because if Keighvin found that she was (technically) a sorceress...he'd probably try to hamper their departure.

"Yes," Joe bobbed his head. "I can swear on it, if you'd like."

"On your word be it," Ellyn picked at the side dish of salad. "I'm a sorceress. However, I can't use the 'normal' powers - I can't harness my magic unless I am really, really angry, and I've never been in that state. However, I do generate magic as normal sorcerers do."

"Ah," Joe bit his lip, regretting the promise. This was something Keighvin would have liked to hear.

"You do keep secrets, do you?" Ellyn's faded eyes held a sly amusement, and Joe knew then that he had been tricked. To his credit, he grinned sheepishly, and nodded.

"And where did you learn how to handle a semi-automatic?" Ellyn asked. And Joe found himself telling her about his story - how his father had set up a cult which used children with psi powers to open up a way for an evil creature called a Salamander, where the children of age in the cult learned the way of weapons...

And he felt mildly surprised as Ellyn listened, really listened, without a veneer of pity or sympathy or even horror or hatred, and this made him tell her more about himself and his time under the cult than he had told any other, even the elf Alinor or the human Bob whom had befriended him after the incident, even Frank Casey, his guardian after the cult had been forcefully disbanded and he had become a true orphan.

At the end of it he was afraid that she would make a judgement, like all the others had, for a judgement would be too final, would spoil the moment somehow and make him regret, later, that he had told someone whom he had only known for a short while so much of himself. Ellyn merely watched him enigmatically until he had finished, then smiled briefly. "You have a good heart, Joseph Brown - and a good turn of luck. Take advantage of it. The past doesn't matter in the present - but I'm sure you know that."

With that, she stood up, a cat uncoiling from its basket after a full meal, and nodded at the waitress. "We had better be getting back."

***

They finally hammered out a flexible strategy, and most of the elves wandered out of Keighvin's office. Those remaining watched Tulan and Keighvin warily.

"About Ellyn..." Keighvin began stiffly.

"What about her?" Tulan crossed his arms and quirked an eyebrow.

"Her parents were very upset at her disappearance," Keighvin said, picking up a bit of paper from a drawer in his desk and tossing it at Tulan.

Tulan caught it and glanced at the paper. It had a photocopied picture of Ellyn, with 'Lost' typed out forlornly above it...he looked up and said, "So?"

Keighvin's eyes darkened in fury.

"Instead of blaming everything on me," Tulan snapped, "Ask her yourself. Ask her if she wants to go back to her parents. I'm not stopping you - I told her it was her choice, either way. Ellyn's not an ordinary girl, Keighvin. She has determination and a strong will of her own. Sometimes it's so inflexible it's irritating, but most of the time I admire her for it. She doesn't decide things on impulse, even though sometimes it seems so - incidentally, that helped make her a better sniper shot than Jim, which is saying something. Bullets don't travel straight, but in a curve - she can somehow calculate their trajectory very quickly and trust in herself..."

"You saw what she did earlier," he continued, taking a breath. "You can try talking to her, Silverhair - but I wouldn't place many bets on you. And if you do happen to really anger her..." he stopped, and Keighvin frowned at the sudden grin on that the Black Bard wore.

"I was about to ask you about this 'Zaknafein'," Keighvin said coldly. "What is he?"

"He's otherworld," Tulan nodded. "Accidentally came through one of the otherworld Gates into Underhill. Had quite a run of bad luck - ran into the incarnation of Leo, then into the Wild Hunt. I saved him from the latter."

"Leo?" Keighvin blinked. "Then the claws..."

"Oh yes," Tulan nodded. "He won't be changing so soon, but as you saw - when he loses control, he becomes very much like an enraged big cat. He knows this, of course - that the one who kills an incarnation of the Zodiac and who takes part of the Zodiac unto himself willingly becomes the incarnation himself. I've currently retarded this, but it may just be a matter of several hundred centuries."

"I see," Keighvin sighed. "No wonder he snapped the bindings so easily."

"Quite so," Tulan yawned. "Right. After I rest a while, we'd start on our strategy..."

Zaknafein's snarl came again, though softer this time, subsiding into resounding growls. Tulan let out a breath that was both resigned and concerned, and headed quickly back to the sick room.

This could get to be a problem...

Chapter 18: Recruitment

"This is beginning to get annoying," Zaknafein said when Tulan rushed into the sick room. His breath was coming in short, pained gasps, and the claws curled and uncurled in spasms.

"He has too much imagination for his own good," Mary said shortly, industriously placing a needle back into a device to be sterilized. Ellyn and Joe sat on the bedside, with Ellyn cleaning up the site of an injection with a cotton wool wad damp with alcohol, and Joe nursing a few light scratches on his arm.

"Imagination?" Zaknafein chuckled, a harsh, dry sound. "That is the first time it has been attributed to me."

"Your reactions are probably also due in part that you treat your fear by fighting it," Mary continued. "The patient I treated of Demon’s Tongue just used to get very, very afraid – such that he had to be coaxed away from nervous breakdowns after he ‘woke’ up."

"I have been fighting fear all my life," Zak said shortly, controlling the slight involuntary tremors that racked his frame with an effort. He was drenched with sweat, but began to take deep, measured breaths.

"Admirable," Tulan had pulled up a chair, "But these hallucinations...do they really seem so real?"

"Very much so," Zak shuddered. "’Waking up’ is as though someone just sharply changed the view to this ‘reality’. And it is getting harder and harder to wake."

Tulan and Ellyn looked questioningly at Mary.

"Normal procedure," Mary said, all business, "It will be like this for...oh, I don’t know. Maybe a week. Maybe it’d break tomorrow. It depends – and I have never treated someone who is technically dead before." She allowed herself a slight smile, which quickly disappeared. "If you survive this, then the fever will come. The poison, if it’s anything like the Demon’s Tongue, works rather systematically. If you survive the first few days of fever, you’d be high and dry."

"If I survive," Zak repeated musingly, "Do not look at me like that, Ellyn. You and Tulan have done much for me – perhaps surviving is the least I can do," he tried to smile.

"Because if you don’t," Ellyn said, with a mock growl of anger...she aimed a playful punch at his face which he automatically and quickly slapped away.

"You’re very fast," Joe said, watching as Zaknafein just as deftly deflected more punches, tired or not.

"Sorry about the scratch," Zak said, in a manner of reply.

"It’d heal," Joe responded. There was an awkward silence as Joe realized that Ellyn, Tulan and Zak were watching him mildly. Quickly he excused himself, and exited the room. Mary followed soon after, after telling them to call her if more complications arose.

"Nice boy," Tulan said neutrally.

"And you don’t need to sound like that," Ellyn hugged one of her knees. "It has been nice talking to him..."

"And?" Zaknafein asked at the same moment that Tulan said, "Oh?"

"But I have every hope that he will give that Keighvin a good report," Ellyn grinned at the relief on Tulan’s face. "If he doesn’t...I’d seek him out later and personally trash him, military school graduate or no."

Zaknafein nodded, as if that problem had been solved when it was actually only at the beginning. "And Tulan. How is your war council going?"

"We have to recruit help," Tulan said, "I’m going to try and get Madrek over later – going over there with Keighvin. He doesn’t trust me with anyone else. Some of the Fairgrove elves will be approaching other help...then later I think I may have to go to ‘Cisco to recruit the Triad through Jim."

"Triad?" Zak asked.

"Sort of like an exclusive, Chinese dragon-only club," Tulan grinned. "River dragons. I can’t remember who’s the head, but we’d probably have to contact them through Jim."

"Quell could help," Ellyn said before she thought.

"If you asked him," Tulan grinned wickedly, and Ellyn blushed.

Zaknafein raised an eyebrow.

"Quell was very impressed with Ellyn," Tulan shrugged.

"It doesn’t mean that he...well..." Ellyn tapered off helplessly. Then she glared at them both. "Well, it doesn’t!"

"I didn’t say anything," Tulan said innocently.

***

Keighvin looked disbelieving as Tulan led him up the shady avenue of terraced houses. "This is where Madrek is?"

"Nice place, isn’t it?" Tulan said carelessly. He had Gated the both of them over, and placed a modification of the ‘don’t see me’ spell on them. Apparently Tannim had devised a more practical version of it that allowed people to ‘see’ you but not remember your presence, solving all the bits about getting stepped on that were usual for his own spell.

At least Keighvin had (reluctantly) returned the Stradivarius.

"Are we talking about the same Madrek?"

"I know what he used to stay in, Silverhair," Tulan said dryly. "Trust me on this one, okay?"

"That may be remarkably difficult," Keighvin smiled briefly.

"Perhaps so," Tulan shrugged. "Have you spoken to Ellyn yet? You don’t look very scorched."

Keighvin chuckled at this. "I am not going to speak to her."

Tulan turned around slowly, raising an eyebrow.

"I’m not unreasonable, Black Bard," Keighvin’s mouth twitched in amusement at the Bard’s astonishment. "I trust Joe, and he was quite adamant that she’s more happy living with you than with her true family."

"Adamant...did he hit you really hard on the head?" Tulan asked, feeling off-balance.

"No," Keighvin smiled, apparently relishing turning the tables on the Bard for once. Earlier, Tulan had surprised him with that Bane-Sidhe story, now it was his turn. "He was very eloquent, and he is a good judge of character...now."

"Well." Tulan apparently calmed down. "Nice to know you’re not such a brick after all."

"Thank you," Keighvin said with dignity.

They approached the house where Madrek now resided in. On the stone banister sat the Siamese cat, with Lizzie beside him. Madrek, the cat, appeared to be telling the girl a story.

"And then she came up to him and said...no, she wasn’t wearing the red dress. Because she can’t wear the same clothes everyday. Why? Because wearing the same clothes everyday makes that suit of clothes really dirty. No, I don’t know why clothes are usually referred to as a suit..." Madrek glanced up at them as they approached, a little relief in his brilliant blue eyes, though also a little wary suspicion.

"Hey, Madrek. Hello, Lizzie," Tulan grinned casually. Lizzie smiled brightly at him, then at Keighvin, before turning back to Madrek and whispering a question.

"Maybe later, Lizzie," Madrek said, "Run along now. I’d join you later."

Lizzie nodded, then hugged the cat tightly. Madrek blinked then settled with a resigned look on his feline features before she hopped off the banister and into the house.

"Now," Madrek turned on Tulan, blue eyes now diamond-hard. "I told you once about..."

"I know," Tulan said quickly. "Look, this is really important, ok?"

"It had better be, kiddo." Madrek washed the back of his paw delicately, shooting Keighvin a heavy lidded glance. "Greetings, Silverhair. As I once predicted to your great-grandam, you’ve grown up tall and handsome and strong."

Keighvin blinked. "Madrek...Madrek the Red?"

"Guilty," Madrek said shortly. "Your great-grandam...Lady Verviane...was a very remarkable person. To answer questions, no, Elfhame Alderwood still thinks I’m dead, as does most of Underhill and all of Earth. I am happy here. I am in this shape of my own choice. Now, Tulan – you had better tell me what is so important, before I lose my patience."

Tulan spent the rest of half an hour filling Madrek in on what they knew and their suggestions.

Madrek looked as troubled as a cat could, which was not much, though the nervous twitching of his fine tail betrayed his true feelings. "Are you sure?" he asked after it.

"Check if you wish," Keighvin spoke up.

"I will do just that," Madrek replied bluntly, then curled his legs underneath him, purring.

After a short, uneasy pause, there was the dry rasp of flapping wings, and a large raven appeared, alighting on a nearby tree branch that grew over the banister. Madrek regarded the raven gravely, then spoke a guttural word.

A rune, Tulan realized. The raven cocked its head thoughtfully, shifting from one black, scaly foot to the other, then squawked back, more runes.

Madrek turned his head back to them. "Carakh here says that yes, it’s true," he sighed, then added, "And the Rook is helping."

"Rook?" Tulan looked blank for a moment. "Oh. The vampire."

"The shape-changer?" Keighvin slumped briefly as Madrek nodded assent. "Aye, that is trouble, sure enough. And how is he helping?"

The raven looked more nervous, until Madrek’s tone took on an angry snarl – then it replied in agitated squawks.

"He’s one of the Seven..." Madrek began, then blinked as the raven screeched in pain. Black flames seared out from it, burning it into ashes that were quickly blown away into the wind. The ash briefly formed the shadow of a raven in mid air, before scattering.

"Damn," Madrek muttered. "Now he knows." The cat looked resigned. "I’d help you. Allow me to put a major ward on this place first."

"That bad?" Tulan asked. A major ward was a dangerous set-up – if broken, you would feel an intense physical pain, and even some loss of power if you were not careful. But a good major ward was unbreakable. Madrek was quite obviously concerned about his ‘adoptive’ house.

Madrek nodded grimly. "I know the Rook...we had better be careful."

***

Zaknafein woke from another of his fitful naps, to see Ellyn’s anxious face. "Zak?" she asked.

"I am not hallucinating," Zak said dryly, if a little husky from sleep, "Which is good."

"Yes," Ellyn said, looking relieved. She also looked strained from worry and probable lack of sleep.

"Go and sleep, Ellyn," Zak said firmly.

"But..." Ellyn began.

"If it would make you feel any better," Zak commented, "Get the elves to strap me to the bed." He didn’t smile at her brief look of horror, but continued bleakly, "I think it would be for the best."

"How can you suggest..." Ellyn trailed off, then clenched her fists in a sudden burst of ire. "You...you’re inhuman! Really, this strapping thing is only for...only for..."

"Animals?" Zak did smile, then. Ellyn was still rather naive inside, no matter what she had been through since she met himself and Tulan. "Think about it, Ellyn. This will stop me from trying to kill everything around me whenever I suffer a fit. If you tie me fast enough, even the claws will not be of any help. As to being ‘inhuman’...it is literally so, Ellyn."

"I’m not going to let you do this," Ellyn said firmly, "Not just for the sake of letting me sleep. And you are human, Zak. I think." The edges of her mouth twitched into a smile.

He did not return it. "Not just for that purpose," Zak said calmly. "Sooner or later I will inflict more damage than just a few scratches, Ellyn. I am a trained fighter and have trained for four centuries. I can kill without my claws or weapons, and frankly, if not for their magic, these elves would be easy to take down. And even their magic is not very effective against me, is it?"

She couldn’t disagree, but instead of replying, looked down to her shoes uncomfortably.

So be it, Zak decided grimly. He would inform Mary of his plan later, when she came in. He never really understood why people let sentiment get in the way of the most logical and practical solution.

He listened quietly to Ellyn speaking animatedly about a show she had watched earlier with the Fairgrove elves. Called ‘Charmed’, or something – he did not really care, but he did respect Ellyn enough to listen when she spoke and not fall asleep, something which he felt like doing now. Sleep seemed safer than being awake.

His sharpened senses – odd, that this was happening when he was sick – picked up the sounds of someone approaching the sick room with light steps.

Probably Mary.

Zaknafein sat up straighter as the door to the room opened...

...And he gasped in astonishment and horror as Malice stepped in, beautiful as ever in her priestess robes, and as she turned to shoot him a secret smile...more powerful than ever. Her eyes were lavender – the eyes of Lloth.

***

"Keep a really big cat, do you?" Madrek, still in cat form, sat on Tulan’s shoulder. They were looking at the sickroom door, which had three fresh scratches on it, high up in the door, around his face-level. Madrek had been introduced to as few Fairgrove elves and humans as possible, then chose Tulan to ‘take him around’, as he put it.

"No, just Zak," Tulan said, opening the door, then blinked.

Zaknafein had been tied down to the bed with several coils of thick rope and tough leather. He slept, but kept trying to toss and turn, straining against his bindings. There were two elves sitting on the other cot, breathing heavily with the after-effects of a nasty shock. Mary was as unruffled as ever, as she took Zak’s temperature and recorded it on a chart.

Ellyn sat on her usual place on the side of Zak’s bed, looking rather pale.

"What happened?" Tulan said automatically then held up a hand. "I guessed. Another hallucination?"

"Jackpot," Ellyn said tiredly. "He attacked..." she glanced at one of the elves on the bed.

"Dave," the elf grinned with an effort.

"Dave there," Ellyn acknowledged. "Nearly got him, too."

"Your friend has quite a punch," Dave said, rubbing his jaw.

"Anyway, Zak knocked him down, then got his claws out, but Dave ducked behind the door and pushed it at Zak’s face..." Ellyn continued.

"Which explains the scratches," Tulan sighed. "How did you get him to...well..."

"Um." Ellyn glanced at the other elf.

"Keith." The elf said.

"Keith here threw a tranquilizer dart at him." Ellyn looked even more tired. "Seemed to shock him awake before he fell asleep."

"He told us to bind him up in rope and leather before he woke again," Keith nodded. "Most practical, but I’d never have expected him to advance it himself."

"Zaknafein’s strange," Tulan shrugged. "Ellyn. Go and sleep. Now."

"But..." Ellyn wavered.

Madrek purred into Tulan’s ear, and the Bard picked him up gently and gave the cat to her. "Go on. You’d keep the pussy cat company for now, anyway."

"Yes...I suppose so," Ellyn’s voice was a little wooden, but otherwise very much herself. Obviously most of her wanted sleep, as well.

The look Madrek shot him over her shoulder as she left the room was most eloquent about his feelings as to the ‘pussy cat’ remark.

"Really Keith and Dave?" Tulan asked the two elves, who were settling into a watch position.

"Actually Keitheranl and Daevenor." ‘Keith’ said. It was surprising how trusting Fairgrove elves were. "We were coming over to take up the watch. Got held up a bit over a broken circuit in the..."

"Tranquilizer dart?" Tulan inquired before they could continue.

"I thought we would need it," Mary shrugged. "Turned out I was right."

"It’s getting worse, isn’t it?" Tulan said quietly. "It’s mixed reality for him now, right?"

"Unfortunately," Dave said, "From the pattern of his movements, it was quite obvious he ‘recognized’ Ellyn, because he shouted at her to run. He was trying to protect her from whatever he saw."

"Did he mention something about a certain personage known as Lloth?" Tulan asked.

"As well as someone called ‘Maeke-Leache’ Keith said.

"Malice and Lloth." Tulan interpreted. "He’s been hallucinating about his old life again. Hmm."

"Who are these two?" Dave asked with polite interest.

"Females," Tulan said, then grinned widely at Dave’s look of consternation.

"He thought I was a woman?"

***

Zaknafein didn’t wake up.

Tulan watched dully as Ellyn gave up trying to shake him awake and turned to face him, near tears. "What’s wrong?" she nearly wailed.

Zaknafein’s sleeping form was sweating profusely, head jerking reflexively from side to side, sometimes flattening himself into the bed, sometimes surging forward briefly to strain against the bindings.

Mary pushed her way past Ellyn, and took Zak’s temperature expertly. She looked at them soberly. "The fever has begun," was all she said before she bustled to another corner of the sick room.

"Fever?" Ellyn put the back of her hand against Zak’s forehead, withdrawing it just as quickly. "My God, he’s burning up."

"Temperature at 41 degrees Celsius," Mary confirmed, coming back with a basin filled with water which she placed on the small bedside table, as well as a small clean hand towel. "High fever for him, since his normal temperature is human temperature." She shook her head briefly. "Dangerous – it could damage him internally, but his temperature is lower than the Demon’s Tongue victim. Could be a good sign. Now, we need to cool him down a little."

"You can’t..." Ellyn made her doing-magic gesture.

"No," Mary said firmly, "This is one of the effects of his body fighting the last of the poison. If I interfere, the poison may gain the upper hand. Your friend is strong – there is a high chance that he will recover fully. I dare not even use medicine – Devil’s Burn has many biological catalysts that are unknown, and I dare not give your friend something that may be harmful."

"Chance," Ellyn whispered, then straightened. "What do we have to do?"

Mary showed them how to use the water and the hand towels to help a fever patient, then she added, "I don’t expect you to do this for twenty-four hours. I will send a relief after a while. Now, I have to go and treat an injury down at the tracks. If any complications arise, go and find me."

***

Zaknafein pried open his eyelids with some difficulty, and it seemed to him that he took longer than usual to focus. His forehead felt both numb and cool, though there was a damp, oddly comforting weight on it. His eyes throbbed, he had a headache, and the breath in his mouth seemed unusually hot.

His body seemed to be in the grip of some lethargy – try as he could, he couldn’t muster the energy to try to talk to...his head lolled to the side, and he saw Tulan, who was philosophically soaking a hand towel. The sight was so incongruous that he nearly laughed, but couldn’t muster the energy.

There were more damp weights on his chest, but he didn’t feel like raising his head to see what they were.

"Tulan?" he asked. His voice sounded odd to him – dry and rasping, as if scoured by a desert wind. And as soft and weak as a kitten.

What’s wrong with me?

Tulan looked quickly at him, relief and consternation mixing on his face. "Get more rest, Zak," he said finally. "You’ve got high fever, and you need to recover."

"Fever?" Zak managed to push his face into a slight frown.

"Never got sick before?" Tulan began a snappy answer, then apparently had an afterthought. "Maybe that is indeed the case. Anyway, you’re sick, my friend. Go back to sleep. You won’t have the hallucinations anymore, which seems to be the only good point in this entire matter."

"Ah." His eyelids seemed heavy, so heavy...

Zaknafein succumbed, slipping back into cool darkness that folded around him softly.

Tulan shook his head in mild astonishment at himself. "A century ago, if someone told me I would stay up half the night wetting hand towels for an otherworld elf, I’d have laughed in their faces," he muttered.

***

Ellyn slept better than she had for a long time, and woke eventually when sunlight bathed her face.

A Siamese cat was curled up in an open drawer filled with cloth, mostly her clothing that Tulan had retrieved from the Hall. It turned beautiful sapphire eyes to hers when she looked at it.

"You’re...Madrek, aren’t you?" She sat up and stretched luxuriously before straightening in horror. "Oh no. I was supposed to take a night shift for Zak."

"Yes, I am Madrek," the cat said, washing its paws, then stretching just as comfortably. "As to Zak’s shift, Joe took it for you."

"Oh," Ellyn looked guilty.

"None of your fault," Madrek leaped lightly onto her bed. "You were very tired."

"How’s Zak?" Ellyn asked, getting up to rummage around her clothing for something new to wear.

"Still the same," Madrek said, lying down on the warm spot on the bed generated by Ellyn. "No better, no worse, though he apparently woke once last night."

"How..." Ellyn turned to look speculatively at the cat-elf-sorcerer Adept.

"I’m not Adept for nothing, kid," Madrek purred. "Hurry up. There’s a war council up soon, with some of your friends."

Madrek felt worried as Ellyn disappeared into the toilets to change and do her toiletries. The Rook was a major problem indeed – a sorcerer who had been turned into a vampire, becoming one of the most powerful vampires still living, if not the most. The reason was that he could work magic, even as a vampire – and shapeshift, the hardest magical feat of all. He was less powerful as a vampire, because some parts of sorcery needed a living channel, but he had an army. And some thought him the unofficial chief behind all the vampire Masquerades.

The Rook was the only vampire who could work magic.

Vampire society was an odd one, he mused. A Masquerade was a vampire pack that could consist of forty or more vampires, with one leader known as the Masque. Each Masquerade held a territory that they defended as rigorously as any wolf pack. Initiation into a Masquerade was both vicious and final. Non-Masquerade vampires were hunted out by the Masquerades themselves, and either destroyed or forced to join.

Masquerades used to have bloody wars with each other over territory, but their numbers had dwindled until each Masquerade lived in relative peace with its neighbours, up to the point that they had an official council that consisted of all the Masques...and the Rook, even though he wasn’t a Masque.

The Masque was the top vampire, the strongest, most powerful one. A new Masque came into power by killing the old one and any other contenders.

Rook, or the Raven Vampire, was supposedly an unofficial Chief Masque. The big Alpha. The Man. He belonged to no Masquerade, but was not prosecuted at all. Rather the opposite, his help was often sought.

He normally had Ravens that were magicked. Most of them collected information. Madrek had thought about this only when he Called one of the Ravens – Rook was normally obliging to those who used his Ravens, especially if the user was a fellow sorcerer. Certainly Madrek had not expected Rook’s involvement.

Which meant that the vampires could be against them.

Vampires were easily underestimated – they had many ‘phobias’, after all. But once determined, they were deadly. Their operations were swift, precise, and skilled, making the Mafia seem like a bumbling child in comparison. And if all the Masquerades turned against them...

Needless to say they might as well pack up and turn Underhill.

A vampire Masque was coming over to the council, Tulan had told Madrek.

And his name was Quell.

Chapter 19: Quell

Wearing dark brown track pants and a loose, plain white blouse - her 'working' clothes - Ellyn walked swiftly through the building at Madrek's direction. The Siamese cat sat purring in her arms, apparently content, though inside he worried about his 'adopted' family. Already he missed the quiet, tranquil passing of life, even the mock 'tea' parties on the front porch...but the faster this business finished, the faster he would be able to return.

As he had suspected, attempts against the major ward had taken place, but had been deflected easily. Madrek had reached the prime of his skills - and had not faded, or so he hoped.

Ellyn herself was a sorceress, he had noticed. He might have to help Tulan and Ashalon with her 'block' later, but a greenhorn sorceress was a loose cannon. They would have to decide later.

Later, later - it always boiled down to this word. Madrek had been through many wars and conflicts, and it seemed to him they usually consisted of long periods of tense deliberation followed by short, very crowded periods.

It wasn't much use trying to second-guess everything. The best plans could be foiled at the most unexpected moments; hence it was useful to have a lot of backup plans. The only problem was that constructing a lot of backups was risky, especially if some major flaw was discovered, too late to think up a better one.

Still, it was a pleasure not being one of the main 'heads' of this conflict, Madrek knew. As a 'helper' of Tulan, he didn't need to give much input, and much better - didn't need to lead. He preferred working alone than taking up the responsibility of legions. Power and ambition were only words to Madrek now...and he often laughed at those who continued to blindly ply them for favors.

There were a precious few who shared his ideas.

Madrek cut off his train of thought when Ellyn stopped. He realized that he had stopped 'nudging' her along, and guiltily sent small tendrils of power outwards, locating the war council, then pushing her forward again with his power.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Ellyn grumbled.

Madrek turned one blue eye up to her, velvet ears twitching. "Easier than wasting my breath directing you," he commented.

Ellyn flushed, and Madrek hastily rephrased, "That is, this is much more comprehensive than manual commands."

Not really mollified, Ellyn just increased her speed. The Fairgrove building was really rather large.

Madrek hoped they would be on time. He wanted to see why Tulan thought they had so much hold over this 'Quell' that the Masque would decide to go against the Rook and help them.

Ellyn finally reached a door, and at Madrek's silent prompting, knocked and opened the door with crisp confidence most unlike a teenager entering unfamiliar 'territory'.

Faces inside turned up to them. Madrek recognized Lady Lanaeyln and Keighvin, Tulan, some other Lords of some Elfhames. Mixed with them were a few Unseleighe - Nanvon of the Black Centaurs spoke quietly with Korn, huge, 'feathered' hooves tapping nervously on the carpeted floor. M'kvek of the Archan - Dark angels - sat comfortably on a sofa, to all the world a tall, dark, handsome young man wearing a black leather jacket and tight trousers...except for the beautiful, black-feathered wings that sprung from his shoulder. Dhaal vid H'ar stood meekly in a corner, also unrecognizable as a Bane-Sidhe had it not that he had turned himself into a remarkable resemblance of Sherlock Holmes as drawn on the cover of Nicholas Meyer's Seven per cent Solution, deerstalker cap and all. Other Unseleighe either sat quietly or talked in neutral tones.

Thank goodness the room was large, Madrek felt. Or the tension would have snapped by now.

Ellyn bowed briefly to everyone, then retreated to Tulan's side. The living room decor was plain and comfortable, with many padded sofas and low tables, with a bar in a corner where Madrek recognized Henrik Van der Decken, more famously known as captain of the Ship that Was. Humans made up a name for it - the Flying Dutchman or something. He couldn't remember. Henrik was drinking a bottle of cognac with every sign of enjoyment, the drink somehow managing to get into his filmy, see-through body instead of splattering all over the bar and carpet. When he caught the white eyes of the famous ghost, Henrik gave a cheery wave.

Uh oh. There were four men and three women sitting more or less together in another corner. It could have been amusing, their positions - all neutral, all politic, with enough personal space. They wore unearthly finery, the sort of flamboyant luxury only created with sorcery.

Seven men and women - seven Adepts?

Madrek's eyes hardened into pinpoints. He was still Sorcerer Adept. So why were there seven seated...

"Later," Tulan said softly but urgently, perceiving his fury.

Madrek forced himself to relax. The war council was more important. He would punish the upstart who took his title later.

"'Tis eleven and Quell has not shown up," Keighvin was saying in a resigned tone. Quell featured greatly in this particular meeting, for the vampire community was large and important, "We might as well get started."

"Quell?" Madrek felt rather than saw Ellyn's delighted amazement, then noticed for the first time that there were no windows in the room to let in sunlight. All the lighting were from electric lamps, throwing dark shadows and stark light indiscriminately on the furnishings, and the temperature was pleasantly cool due to air conditioning. Perfect for a vampire's comfort.

"Yes," Tulan nodded as everyone focussed his or her attention on him...and Keighvin. "Now, everyone, I am very sure you know why we invited all of you here today. There are some surprising faces..." he glanced at Nanvon, "But I am very flattered that you have taken the time and inclination to show some interest. Keep in mind that this is not our full number as yet - some negotiations are still being undergone with other...groups."

"Aye," Keighvin nodded. "The crux of the matter is that so far, we only know one of the Seven. Those familiar with Dinaeve's prophecies will know that Seven beings will stand before the Anti-Christ. The 'four' beside her are obviously Death, Pestilence, War and Famine, the four Horsemen whose ride will precede the end of this world as we know it."

There were a few murmurs in the ranks.

"The one we do know is the Rook. I'm sure all of you are familiar with him," Lanaeyln took up. "Yes, I see you are. Well, we are not very sure of his stand in the matter. If he is wholly for the Anti-Christ, then I am afraid we will have to eliminate him. If he is in this for self-interest, we may be able to twist him over. I for one do not want to go up against him." She smiled self-deprecatingly, and some laughed, if the mirth was rather strained.

"Reports have informed us that the 'enemy' has begun to move against some major Unseleighe holdings and neutral holdings, as well as a few brushes with Seleighe holdings." Keighvin said, "We will have to devise strategies against this, as well as try and discover the identity of the other Seven. After we neutralize or eliminate them, we may be able to stop the Anti-Christ. Aye, 'tis a gamble, an' we don't have a good hand, but we have to try anyway."

"I'm used to playing with loaded dice," Tulan drawled, "So I advice you all to pull in as many trustworthy allies as possible into this. We'd need all the help we can get. You all know that Heaven's Gate isn't really a Gate at all - not something that once you open, everything will come out or go in, but really a lot of protective bindings and layers. The first three of thirteen bindings have come down, and as such, there is now some supernatural help aiding the attacks on holdings. We'd have to go up against that. Those who aren't 'in' with the gamble can leave. We need people who are determined to see this through at all costs, not some who will chicken out halfway."

There was a short silence after this, but no one left. Madrek felt more relieved.

"Next, we are going to speak to a Masque known as Quell," Tulan said, "Masque of the Masquerade whose HQ is Chinatown. However, he seems to have misplaced himself, or forgotten the time..."

"I never forget," a voice said lightly. Tulan whirled, and Madrek felt momentarily ill as Ellyn did the same. He never really liked quick movement, especially if it was not on his part - even the mildest of rollercoasters made him nauseous.

Quell stepped out of the shadows thrown against a large potted plant against the wall, as thin and tall as ever, with the same sardonic smile on his features as Madrek had seen three centuries ago. He bowed to them all, but the gesture, normally of respect, was more mocking now.

The Masque wore his usual clothing of a plain shirt and trousers, though a heavy chain hung around his neck now, prominently displayed against the black - of a silvery-black medallion with a large rune carved on it, the mark of a vampire leader.

Madrek slipped out of Ellyn's hands, leaping gracefully onto the back of a sofa where he continued to watch the vampire quietly, ready to strike magically if he tried anything.

"Quell!" Ellyn broke the tension unwittingly, a wide smile on her face as she stepped quickly forward and hugged the vampire. "Nice to see you. Are you going to help?"

Quell's face, which normally wore an expression of perpetual sardonic cynicism, looked surprised, then softened for a moment as he patted Ellyn's hair. "Nice to see you too, Ellyn."

"How did you do that?" Ellyn demanded, pointing at the potted plant, referring to the way he had suddenly appeared in the room.

"I know a lot of people," A ghost of a smile played at Quell's lips, then he gently but firmly pushed Ellyn off him, as if afraid of prolonged contact. "Most of them, rather terminally." This last seemed to be aimed at Tulan and Keighvin.

Madrek would have smiled if his present form permitted it. Quell may be the Masque with whom Tulan felt was most easily persuaded over, but he was still a vampire, and every inch a lamia, or a 'full' vampire. Which meant those few vampires whom were the descendants of the first vampires, and not 'made' ones. As the most powerful type of vampire, thus all Masques were lamias, which made the Rook, a 'made' vampire, being an unofficial Masque all the stranger.

"Do you know about the Rook's involvement with opening Heaven's Gates?" Tulan said bluntly.

Quell raised an eyebrow. "A most undiplomatic question, Bard. Am I under interrogation?" His lip curled back as if in a grin, but the revealing of the pointed teeth spoiled the intention, if it ever existed.

"Quell," Ellyn said in a low, warning voice.

The vampire stared at her, and she held his gaze levelly. Finally, he was the one to look away. "Very well. What the Rook does is of no concern to the Masquerades unless it involves them personally. We know about this Heaven's Gates plot, but most of us are not for it. Our hunting ground is the Earth, after all."

"Not for?" Keighvin repeated hopefully.

Quell turned Keighvin a cool stare. "Which means that we do not wish to go up against the Rook, nor do we wish to get directly involved, but we will not help him."

"Will you help us?" one Elfhame Lord spoke up. Not all the Lords were here, but enough were.

"Perhaps." Quell said easily, enjoying everyone's tension and general uncomfortable feelings. "Perhaps not."

"You are going to help," Ellyn said firmly. Quell's eyes darkened briefly, but then cleared again. "Perhaps," he shrugged. "Some of the Masques and a few others will be showing up in the Rook's villa in a few days to discuss this matter with him."

"I don't understand," one of the Lords was saying, "If Earth is your...hunting ground...then why does the Rook wish to have a part in destroying it? Could it be that he has been tricked?"

"The Rook is not as stupid as that," Quell said sharply. "He is cautious and precise as he is powerful. It is thought that he is doing this in the hope that his reward from the Anti-Christ would be to make him human again. He wishes to use his full powers of sorcery."

"Turning human again..." one of the sorcerers murmured. "That is impossible."

"Perhaps he believes otherwise," Quell said easily, "Perhaps it is true. But whatever his reason is, he has not insisted that the Masquerades join in...yet. He did, however, arrange a little garden party at his villa for the Masques. He may tell us there."

"Is the party vampire-only?" Korn asked, pulling thoughtfully at his beard.

"Technically," Quell smiled a smile full of natural cruelty, somehow mixed with genuine, sardonic amusement. "Non-vampires do not come out alive."

"But they can go in?" Tulan mused.

"Why, yes," Quell's smile became even more unpleasant. "Usually escorted by vampires."

"Then I see a way to get rid of this Rook," Ellyn said boldly, looking straight at Tulan. Madrek, sitting quiet and forgotten on the table, was impressed by her courage, but felt a little apprehensive. Ellyn by herself would not even be able to take down the lowest Masque on a one-on-one combat...

Quell's smile abruptly disappeared, as he also experienced thoughts more or less parallel to Madrek's.

"Child," one of the Lords of the Elfhames began in a tone that was unintentionally patronizing.

Ellyn's expression took on a mutinous light, and she burned slightly in the Sight. Without even knowing it, the Lord that had spoken had committed her to her decision. "I can shoot a crossbow well now," she said coolly. "Quell can get me in. After that..."

"Ellyn..." Tulan began, then sighed. "I hope you realize that magic is impossible in a mile radius of the center of the house? Wards, you see. We won't be able to aid you very easily if something goes wrong. And Zaknafein will be very upset if something happens." He didn't add that since Zaknafein was still suffering from high fever, this might worsen the strange elf's condition.

"I can take that chance," Ellyn said calmly. "I have before. As for Zak - just don't tell him, ok?"

Tulan nodded slowly, and angry mutters spread through the small gathering of the Lords, which died away when Ellyn glanced at them.

"Right," Ellyn turned back to Quell, who seemed paler than usual. "When's this garden party?"

"Ellyn, please," Quell said in a low voice. "You have no idea how..."

"I have a very good idea," Ellyn responded sharply, "When is the party?"

"Tomorrow night," Quell said, looking uncomfortable. "Full moon."

"I'd come with you," Joe spoke up. Ellyn blinked - Joe had entered earlier when they had been getting over the shock of Quell coming in, probably - she hadn't noticed his presence.

"You may be a liability," Tulan said bluntly. "Ellyn has encountered vampires before. Have you?"

"No," Joe admitted, "But I can learn."

"Perhaps it would be better if Joe were to go along," Keighvin put in. Some of the Fairgrove elves nodded agreement, having heard of Joe's expert shooting skills, which surpassed even Ellyn save at the sniper rifle.

"It could be arranged," Quell admitted, "But I would...that is, I do not approve...think that Ellyn coming is a very good idea."

"And why not?" Ellyn demanded. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the dark angel smile at her obvious impudence at addressing an equivalent of a vampire lord in such a manner.

Quell glared at her, then shrugged, back to his normal sardonic self. "Be ready tomorrow, then. I suggest you wear something...appropriate."

"What's appropriate?" Ellyn asked, sudden trepidation blossoming on her features.

***

Ellyn made a face. "I think I'm beginning to regret this," she said, and looked at the mirror again.

"Good," Quell said, then added under his breath, "It may be the last thing you will regret." Unfortunately, Ellyn was close enough to overhear it, though she chose to ignore it.

She wore a dress of a demure creamy white, floor-length, satin creation, which hugged the figure up to the hips, then was flowingly sensual below that. It was one of those dresses that seemed to be held up by magic above the chest, baring the shoulders.

Elbow length, matching white satin gloves covered crossbow bolt refills strapped to her arms, and she wore heavy deep sea-blue cloak that gathered at her throat with a blood red ruby catch, on which an angular, squarish symbol had been traced in gold. The matching angular patterns in soft yellow on the bodice of the dress seemed to accentuate her cleavage.

Ellyn was aware that she was blushing furiously, but the...costume had an underlying purpose. The flowing dress allowed quick running, and would mask any kicks she might decide to make to...anyone. It also hid her boots, which had steel-silver caps under the matching satin. The heavy cloak , as long as she kept it draped on her shoulders, would cover the light crossbow of blued steel that was strapped on her back, fixed to her dress. Another strap emerged as a belt at the front, a soft brown, innocent looking accessory, which also had a few razor blades, fitted in it.

The dress and most of the accompanying...assets were contributions from Quell's sister, Vaire. The lithe female vampire twitted as she stepped back and regarded Ellyn frankly. Vaire herself was dressed in a dress modeled after a Chinese cheongsam, the figure-hugging, flower-embroidered long dress with the characteristic slits at the sides, in Vaire's case cheekily up to just below the hip, showing a lot of leg. Her dress didn't conceal any weapons - she didn't need to. Vampires were a formidable weapon in themselves.

"Very nice, dear," Vaire said in her silky voice, holding a small casket of items that Tulan and other mages had helped bring from the Chinatown HQ. She picked out a small headband of thin black leather, with two hawk feathers and some crystal beads attached to it. This she adjusted on Ellyn's forehead, such that the feathers and beads emerged out of Ellyn's hair, and the silver pendant of a striking hawk prominently displayed on the center of Ellyn's forehead.

"I feel overdressed," Ellyn complained.

"The feathers are darts," Vaire replied. "Wooden ones, fire-hardened and enforced with a bit of steel."

Ellyn fingered the feathers, and felt the unnaturally hard shafts. "I see. Very clever."

"Remnants from a time when Masquerade fought Masquerade to the death, and intrigues and miniature Cold Wars spawned like flies," Vaire grinned. "That was my favorite, and I want it back."

"I'd take good care of it," Ellyn smiled. She liked the female vampire.

"Make sure you do," Vaire replied archly, "It killed a few Masques in its time. Perhaps it'd kill one more."

"I'd prefer it not to get that close up," Ellyn replied, shifting the crossbow into a more comfortable position. Though not loaded, the latent power of the device made wearing it in a position where she couldn't see it made her feel uncomfortable.

Vaire grinned, then. "Let us hope so."

"You know what part to play?" Quell asked again.

"A meek kitten?" Ellyn's expression became wide-eyed, vapid.

"Good one," Vaire smiled. "Kittens have claws."

Joe said nothing. Already, he felt nervous.

***

The full moon looked most unearthly in the cloudless sky, tainted in a sickly greenish hue due to the upcoming eclipse, a scientific explanation for something that looked eerily like an omen - a bad one.

The garden of soft turf and elegant flowers in their neat beds in regular intervals around a large clearing was beautiful, as were the people - vampires - in it. Female vampires wore stunning, rich dresses, but most were male, in dark, half-formal clothing. Quell himself looked dashing and handsome in a white shirt, collar unbuttoned, black jacket open at the front with a deep champagne red handkerchief that peeped out of his breast pocket. The medallion of office was prominently displayed, and he radiated a certain insouciant grace.

"The Rook's on the left," he murmured. Ellyn took a look the way she had been taught to - with the edges of her eyes, without turning her heads. A dark, gaunt figure sat in a delicate pavilion, entertaining and being entertained by several females. Ellyn herself couldn't tell if the people were vampires or not - if she had stumbled on this party before she had met Zaknafein, she would have thought it a mere party for the social elite of any city.

"I'm ready," she replied, a form of reply, placing her hand lightly on his arm, allowing herself to be led towards the party. Behind her, Vaire was 'escorted' by Joe, also wearing a dark jacket and white shirt, looking wary. Joe's main arsenal was in Vaire's reticule - a small revolver and a few stakes.

The clearing held a long table laded with exquisite food, with one smaller table beside it holding wine. Vampires chatted and ate tidbits, in groups or in pairs.

There were often humans taken to these sort of gatherings, Ellyn understood. As a 'late night treat', she remembered Quell saying carelessly back in Fairgrove.

Naturally, none of the elven Lords had approved of this venture.

Ellyn steadied her wild thoughts of possible doom, and put on her act.

***

Ellyn would have made a good actress, Joe decided wryly. The confident stalk of a hunter had been replaced by a meek, hesitant step. Ellyn's eyes were turned down submissively, and she leant on Quell's arm as if half-fainting from excitement or fear. When she spoke, she did not meet the eyes of the person she spoke to, and her words were breathless and her speech, stammered. A wilting flower crossed with a fluffy white kitten, was the image in Joe's mind.

"How does she blush at will?" Vaire murmured in admiration as Ellyn did just that, blushing prettily at a compliment paid to her by a passing vampire.

Joe shrugged a little, not really listening. Quell was playing his part as a wicked-vampire-with-a-human-snack-on-legs a little too well for his comfort, or maybe he was just paranoid. Both Tulan and Zak vouched for the Masque before the war council, and although he didn't entirely trust Tulan, he trusted Zak. He couldn't associate the fierce, proud 'drow' with dissembly, especially since the strange elf, as well as Tulan, were so obviously fond of Ellyn.

He reminded himself that Zak, at least, didn't know about this particular venture. He wouldn't like to be in Ellyn's shoes when she told him.

If she was still capable of telling him...but such gloomy thoughts were most distracting. Joe pushed them away quickly.

However, it took a lot more self control not to protest, especially after 'dinner', during the slow dance where Quell occasionally kissed Ellyn's neck lightly, winking at watching vampires who understood the hidden meanings in the gesture, while Ellyn 'innocently' giggled. Vaire's hand tightened on his arm, and he obediently entered the dance with her.

"You don't dance much, do you?" she grinned. "You're rather clumsy."

"Sorry," Joe replied automatically, eyes straying down Vaire's full figure involuntarily. The female vampire laughed, low and rich, as he averted his eyes.

"Hey, Vaire," The newcomer was a blond vampire, male, with a girl on his arm which Joe could not for the life of him tell if she was human or vampire.

"Greetings," Vaire grinned at him, "Masque Pierre...Caroline."

The girl smiled, not showing her teeth, but Joe suddenly was certain that 'Caroline' was a vampire. Something in the way the vampires walked and talked, calm, precise, and confident. "Hello, Vaire. Didn't expect you to come."

Vaire snorted. "Quell left me out of the last one, remember? I made him bring me this time."

"Ah, Quell," Pierre, turned an amused glance to where Quell still danced with Ellyn. "Whoever is that lovely flower on his arm?"

"I'm not to know," Vaire smiled and winked. "Does it matter?" She glanced quickly at Joe as if in mild consternation. "Which is to say, Quell's current conquest is but one of many, and probably won't last."

The vampires chuckled as if at some secret joke, and Joe tensed. Won't last...

"And who is this?" Caroline leveled a dazzling smile on Joe. She wore a very low cut dress of red silk, and Joe was finding it harder and harder not to stare.

"Joseph," Vaire put a possessive hand on his shoulder, leaning her head on his arm. Although he knew she was acting - she had warned him of what she might do a long time before they had come here - he found it difficult not to flinch away.

"What's yours, Vaire..." Caroline laughed. "I don't touch."

"I'm envying Quell, now," Pierre spoke with a touch of humor. As like all the Masques that he and Vaire had met so far, Pierre had a commanding presence, and underlying charisma. He nodded at another Masque beckoning at him. "Nice meeting you, Vaire."

Vaire inclined her head as the vampire pair moved away towards the Masque - Masque Nakago, a Japanese vampire whom she found rather charming in his formal manner and studied politeness...

Joe decided to give his attention to the Rook. As he watched covertly, the Rook finally left for the mansion, not joining the dance, leading a girl with him. He squeezed Vaire's hand, and she nodded slightly before meeting Quell's eyes, and nodding slightly.

Quell murmured something into Ellyn's ear, which she dutifully giggled at, then led her to the wine table.

Time for the second part of their plan - getting into the house.

Actually, Quell had said earlier, there were a substantial fraction of humans in any vampire party. It was why there were always fewer guests that appeared the next day, and the mansion was large, having enough bedrooms with soundproof walls...

The Rook was obviously aware of such activities, and he apparently encouraged them. Pain and death brought about some sort of magic (the other Masques suspected) that the Rook could utilize. Therefore, there were always certain...helping factors, like very strong wine in bottles mixed with 'normal' wine for vampires. Even if vampires could hold their wine very well, a drunk vampire was a dangerous one.

If Joe hadn't been watching, he wouldn't have seen Quell pour out two glasses - one with the strong wine, and one with normal wine, making as to give the first glass to Ellyn, then deftly switching glasses.

Still, Ellyn acted the part of a victim of gradual drunkenness to perfection over the next half an hour, speech slurring, giggling more often, leaning even more heavily on Quell, occasionally making inane remarks. The other vampires - and perhaps some humans - watched with barely concealed amusement as Quell finally gently eased the wine glass from Ellyn, set it on the table, and led Ellyn towards the house.

Vaire took the next dance with him, then also began to lead him to the house.

"What, no wine?" a Masque known as David smiled as they passed him.

"I don't like drunks," Vaire replied with a vicious grin, and Joe flushed. The Masque grinned.

The interior of the house was opulent, all elegant white marble and carpeting. A tall, thin, old school butler peered down at them from his long nose, nodded, and escorted them to the stairs before retreating.

"Now to find Quell," Vaire murmured, hurrying Joe through the door-lined corridors, probably to bedrooms. They ran into Quell and Ellyn next to a door marked 'To Roof' rather quickly.

Ellyn was industriously loading her crossbow, all semblance of drunkenness and uncertainty gone. She nodded briefly at them as they approached, then began to ascend the steps quickly.

Quell leant against the wall and folded his arms. "Now we guard," was all he said.

"She's going alone?" Joe said incredulously.

"The Rook will sense any lamia like myself and Vaire very quickly if we were to approach," Quell said dryly. "As for you..."

"I know," Joe said without rancor. He would probably hinder Ellyn. However, he smiled ironically as he now realized that he had been hoping Quell had gone with her... though there was nothing much he could do about it now but wait and pray.

Chapter 20: Capture

The top of the stairs was a large enough window for Ellyn to climb out of. She had no idea why there was a window instead of a door ... but perhaps the Rook, famous as a shapechanger, occasionally flew back to his house in the most literal sense.

The slate roof was in an inclined angle. Ellyn was thankful that she was currently not on the side facing the garden party ... she'd be hard pressed indeed to explain the inevitable 'What are you doing up there?' question.

She crept quietly along the roof, crossbow in a position where she would be able to raise and fire in one easy motion, other hand steadying herself. The roof was shadowed, and she could only guess at her steps, hoping that none of her treads would tear away a tile. She peered into a few of the open skylights as she passed ... Quell had mentioned that the Rook possessed a bedroom with one such skylight ... for easy landings, and also to look up at the stars.

The skylights were fixed in regular intervals, some yawning open, some tightly closed. At every one she passed, she risked a peremptory glance before moving on. The skylights mostly looked down at the richer bedrooms in the house...Ellyn was thankful that none of them were as yet occupied, the bulk of guests still dancing in the garden.

There were odd protuberances on the slanted roof which she took to be odd-shaped gargoyles, mostly raven-themed. Interesting, but useless to her, and of no apparent threat...

Famous last words?

She prodded the next gargoyle. Stone, hard, solid and cold. Shrugging, she moved on.

The noises of the night seemed particularly loud, even her own breathing. The shrills of cicadas, blending with a far-off hoot of an owl, and a high-pitched squeak of a bat, the deep moaning croak of a toad with the higher, soprano squeak of a frog... blending again and over into an eerie chorus. Ellyn tried to slow down her heart, which seemed to be trying to burst from excitement. This was when she truly felt alive ... stalking, with a taste of danger and a wash of danger...thrilling, exciting, vibrant.

She missed her Travel-Fox, but the crossbow would serve. The gods knew Zak had spent enough time drilling it into her. He had such a caustic tongue when teaching...

She hoped he was ok.

The white dress didn't seem to drag on the roof as she thought it would. Actually, she thought wryly, from the ground she would probably look like some kind of ghostly wraith, though admittedly most ghosts seemed to prefer haunting staircases and corridors instead of roofs.

And besides, she was most obviously solid.

Ellyn blamed all the gloomy thoughts of ghosts on the fact that this was the first mission she was undertaking without Zaknafein's quiet, rather savage confidence, and Tulan's cheerful optimism that alternated with depressing cynicism. Besides, it was dark, and had she been wearing black gloves instead of white ones, she would not have been able to see her hands...

The next skylight looked out over a rich, empty bed. Ellyn crept on after a short glance.

Keep your mind on the job, she seemed to hear Zak say. You have all the time in the world to think about the meaning of Life and other trifles later. Concentrate!

There was something incredibly comic about this, if not for the fact that very close to her was a gathering of the most powerful vampires on Earth whom will probably kill her if her 'true colors' were discovered...

Or maybe that added to the joke.

If I weren't here, Ellyn thought idly, If I'd never met Zak, I'd probably be studying now. No, scratch that ... probably sleeping. Or playing Tomb Raider 4...

The last time she'd even touched a computer game was in that long and involved chase of a Arch-Lich, a nasty undead mage-creature, all over Australia. It could only operate safely during the night. In the day it slept, usually somewhere hidden and secure, such that even Tulan couldn't scry him out. During the night it fled them, after clashing with them several times...

They had been waiting for night in Brisbane, and there just happened to be some vans belonging to Nintendo and advertising that company's games by setting up monitors and consoles and allowing people to play for free.

She still was pathetic at Legend of Zelda. Tulan had declined to play, instead insisting on standing at her shoulder and making inane comments like: There's a really big saw coming your way...jump! No, not that way! Look, now you've... And so on. Zaknafein had proved quite a good player at the racing game he chose...he was the only player Ellyn knew who got rid of opponents by viciously ramming them off cliffs.

Ellyn's lips curved into a smile at the memories, then she roughly brought herself back to the matter at hand.

The next skylight was closed, and anyway looked down into a corridor. Ellyn walked carefully around it, and continued, shoes keeping a good grip on the rough tiles.

Bingo.

The next skylight opened down at a large bed with crimson, satin covers, twisted and turning like a restless sea. The Rook was taking his pleasure from one of his female companions, though she was quite obviously unconscious or dead. Blood had leaked onto the crimson covers, and stained the virgin white pillows. The vampire's back was to Ellyn, a bit of good luck.

Ellyn positioned herself as softly as she could, and raised the crossbow, sighting down it, calculating automatically trajectory and the position of his heart, then released the trigger.

The crossbow, to Ellyn, made a loud noise as it released the bolt at a fearsome speed. Below, the vampire stiffened as if to turn around, then shrieked harshly as the bolt slammed into its back. The Rook turned once, and before Ellyn could turn away, met her eyes.

In them was a certain insane fury, mixed with profound sadness so deep that she wondered who the Rook had truly been before he had turned into a vampire, and what had he done, to accord the deep guilt that she seemed to perceive on his set features.

Then the Rook suddenly began to disintegrate, changing rapidly into a desiccated corpse, then onwards into dust which settled on the still form of the girl.

Ellyn shuddered. With the death of a vampire, the corpse reverted to the state which it should be in. Obviously, the Rook was an old vampire...

There was a sudden horrid screeching and squawking around her, as if she had stepped right into a tree where a hundred crows nested.

No, not crows...ravens.

Beady, black eyes glittered around her, all around her, where the gargoyles had been, and she drew her knife, linking the crossbow to her belt. There was no time to reload...

I am not afraid...

She took out two ravens with her knife, then they were upon here, scratching, pecking, and shrilling an unnatural fury.

***

Ellyn, bleeding from many slight wounds, looked up as the door to the large room opened. Vampires escorted in Vaire, Joe and Quell, all three of them looking rather beaten up...Vaire's dress was torn, Joe had a black eye, and Quell had a broken lip which he nibbled at thoughtfully. Of all three, only Quell seemed unperturbed by the capture. He glanced at her, and raised an eyebrow as if to ask her if she had succeeded. Ellyn nodded slightly, and smiled faintly.

Mission accomplished...partially.

Quell seemed more satisfied now, his step taking on a jaunty air, but Ellyn did not really feel any air of triumph. To her, she would rather have failed in assassinating the Rook and not be captured, than to have (as now) killed the Rook and to be caught, possibly killed. After all, she was not on some sort of crusade -...she was here because Tulan had asked her to kill the Rook, and because she was the best person for the job. She would much rather have her life than some empty satisfaction of having killed someone whom she had never met or heard of until recently.

The room was enclosed ... windows covered by heavy drapes. There was circle of tables, with an opening for speakers, or in their case, prisoners to be interrogated. The room was strangely airy and comfortable, carpeted in a light yellow, the tables of heavy oak, warm toned.

Vampires sat at regular intervals at the table, presumably all Masques. Two seats were empty, probably Quell's and the Rook's. They didn't look altogether pleased with what was happening.

The vampire whom was holding on to Ellyn's arm tightly glanced around at the Masques, as if for permission to speak. A majority of them nodded, and he veritably danced forward, yanking Ellyn behind him.

"My lord Masques!" the vampire's voice was high with excitement and suppressed rage. "These four have been caught red-handed with the murder of the Rook. They are to be punished!"

"Is that so?" Quell raised an eyebrow. Ellyn had a sudden image of a puffed up bullfinch facing a row of silent falcons.

"You helped a human against your own kind, Quell," the vampire hissed.

"Masque Quell, Kerryl." Quell's voice dropped to a growl, and stared at the vampire. The vampire looked away quickly.

"The girl was...with you," one of the Masques said slowly, "How came her to kill the Rook?" They were obviously reluctant to convict Quell, as Quell had once mentioned that all Masques were close by tradition and by common sense. She couldn't count on them helping herself and Joe, though.

"I recognize her," another one was saying, "The sniper from the mercenary-assassin group known as the Hunters."

Ellyn bowed as much as the vampire could let her. Her mocking, unconcerned air hid her true feelings. She was beginning to feel afraid. The vampires spoke as though she was not there ... or was too insignificant to be noticed. What would they do to her, or to Joe, who shouldn't have come in the first place?

And there was probably no way that Tulan could get a large enough positioning on this place to Gate in. The villa on a hill would certainly be able to observe any oncoming 'visitors' in the day, and at night...it would be most unwise to attack at the hours where vampires ruled.

The vampire Masques began to debate their fate. Ellyn lost interest quickly, and began to look for an escape route, though Quell still managed to look vaguely interested.

I can probably make it to the door. Maybe Quell and Vaire too. I think Joe can manage. And then...

Lots of vampires versus four of them. Needless to say, the odds were not in their favor. It wasn't even day yet, or even if it was, Quell and Vaire would have even more problems.

Ellyn sagged against the vampire holding her in an small act of spite. Now she could rest a little, as he tried to support her weight.

Think!

***

Zaknafein felt lethargic and listless. Everything seemed dull and uninteresting, and he could not even muster enough energy to think about swordplay. Finally he gave up fighting against the entropy and simply closed his eyes, his mind a comfortable blank, concentrating on his breathing.

The worst of the fever had apparently blown over, Mary commented, but he still suffered from a slight one, and was not to exert himself under any circumstances.

Not that he wanted to, now. Bliss was warmth, soft sheets rubbing against bare skin, and peace. Thoughts were hard to hold on to, and unwelcome.

Time may pass to the end of this world, but I would gladly stay here...

Perhaps he would find that thought stupid later, but right now it was true.

The door opened, but he cared not. Voices and footsteps identified the visitors as Tulan and Keighvin.

Bored, he lazily listened, slowing his breathing to fake that of sleep. Zak found that most people tended to speak more when they thought other occupants in a room to be insensible.

"It's daylight and they're not back," Tulan sounded distressed. "By the Morgana, I should have gone with them..."

"Perhaps they are lying low," Keighvin offered, though he also seemed upset.

"Quell and Vaire are vampires," Tulan pointed out. "They can't stand the day. And Ellyn would have destroyed the Rook by now. She's very good."

"Why speak here?" Keighvin asked.

"Because this is one of the only places where we can get both privacy and an excellent excuse." Tulan implied Zaknafein. "He's sleeping like a babe. So what do you suggest? Wait a day, a few days? They could be dead, tortured, moved..."

"I know that," Keighvin sounded pained. "Are you sure you can't break through?"

"Not like this," Tulan's voice held raw frustration. "I'd have to try again later, but I need an exact location to form a gate. Without the wards, even. With them...it's much harder."

Zak felt surprised, a surprise that turned to fear and a fury. Ellyn had gone to kill the Rook...the sheer idiocy of the girl! The Rook was dangerous, too dangerous, and even if Quell had gone with her...

The emotions died away quickly as he deftly suppressed them. Getting angry wasn't useful now ... he could get angry at her later when she was safe. Tulan had mentioned about not being to get to them...? Where had they gone?

There wasn't much point in pretending to be asleep anymore, so Zaknafein, with an effort, pushed away the lethargy and sat up in the bed.

Tulan and Keighvin gaped at him, then Keighvin sighed. "Private, I see."

"Go back to sleep, Zak," Tulan said with forced cheerfulness. "Nothing much."

Zak sighed, the sound rasping and unfamiliar to his own ears. "Very funny. Now. What do you mean you can't get to Ellyn?"

Tulan slumped visibly as he realized that Zaknafein had listened to most of their conversation, at least. "That's just it ... I can't. There are permanent wards on that place. Some of the wards have fallen down, which may or may not meant that the Rook is dead...and I can't break them. He's had many years perfecting his wards. I'd need some sort of psychic beacon."

"Do we know the probably position?" Zak continued.

"France is very big, Zak," Keighvin pointed out.

Zaknafein, not being the sort of person to shout "I don't care! We must do something!" at this particular point, kept silent and attempted to think of an idea. Failing to think of a good one, he looked calmly up at Tulan. "So what do you intend to do now?" he inquired.

"Placing a 'trigger' above France and hoping for just that sort of signal," Tulan said, relieved that Zak was not going to throw a fit of hysterics. "There was a disturbance near Provence some time ago, so I'm concentrating on it."

Zak nodded, slipping out of bed, then bit his lip against the sudden wash of nausea.

"Zaknafein, go back to sleep," Tulan said calmly. "You look like hell, and you're no use to us like this. And you know it."

Zaknafein began to protest, then knew wryly that Tulan was, for once at least, correct. He was willing to admit it. "Tell me if anything happens."

Tulan shrugged. "I'd stay here and wait for something to happen, then. I'm not exactly sorry to say, Keighvin, that your Elfhame's pretty useless in this aspect..."

Keighvin, to his credit, let the jibe slide over him. "The elves here are for the races, not for helping in odd assassinations," he pointed out.

Tulan glared at him.

"You look like hell yourself, Tulan," Zak threw his words back at his face.

Tulan transferred his glare to Zak.

"I'd have to agree," Keighvin said. "You haven't been eating properly, or sleeping properly. You'd soon be in no shape to help Ellyn as Zak is, if you keep this up..."

Tulan sighed. "That was a low blow."

"Go and eat," Keigvhin said coolly. "I want to help them as much as you do, but you're in no use like this."

***

Ellyn woke up slowly, feeling a mild ache in her head, and a general discontent with life, and a vague belligerence. The room sharpened to show a rather bare room with a single window and a single bed, only one door that was presumably locked from the outside. Joe stared down at her anxiously.

"You're awake," he said in relief.

"Obviously," Ellyn winced as her head reminded her pointedly that she was suffering from a lack of sleep and some mild concussion. Then she realized that the room was flooded in sunlight. "Where's Quell? And Vaire?"

"Quell is under the bed," the vampire's even tones rang with wry sarcasm. "Like a piece of forbidden literature. I shall be most insulted when night falls. However, you have Joe to thank for his quick thinking."

"Forbidden literature?" Ellyn grasped.

"I was of the impression that teenagers hid literature they wished their parents not to find under their beds."

Ellyn realized that the cover of the bed was in messy folds on the side of the bed, neatly obscuring the sunlight.

"Anything else I should know?" she asked, ignoring Quell. "Where's Vaire?"

"They took Vaire away," Joe said, sitting down on the floor beside Ellyn. "We don't know what'd happen to her."

"It is quite obvious," Quell commented, and there was a touch of pain in his voice. "She will be dead by now."

"So why did they put us in here?" Ellyn said, puzzled. "There's sunlight, so they won't be able to come in until night falls again..."

"Perhaps hoping that I'd die," Quell said thoughtfully. "Then again, it would have been easier for them to just leave me out in the sunlight."

"An even chance?" Joe asked.

"Perhaps so," Quell sounded disbelieving. "Or perhaps they just wanted the two of you to watch me die."

"No way we can get out of here?" Ellyn asked.

"The door has a bar over the lock in the outside," Joe replied. "No way we can break it down, even if we manage to pick the lock ... the hinges are on the other side, so the door opens out, not in."

"Damn," Ellyn muttered, and took a quick inventory. Vaire's feather-stakes were still present. The gloves with their bolt refills, and needless to say, the crossbow itself, were gone. The belt with the razor blades that formed part of the strap holding the crossbow in place was also missing, as was her cloak, oddly. Her steel-silver capped boots were present, for whatever it counted ... vampires could take a lot of damage that did not involve sunlight or stakes.

Ellyn sighed. "There's absolutely no question of us managing to get out of here?" The window was too small, even for her.

"No question," Joe agreed.

Ellyn sighed, got up, then settled into the covers of the bed, curling up to go back to sleep.

"Sleep? Now?" Joe blinked.

"If there's nothing we can do, I might as well get more rest," Ellyn retorted. Quell chuckled behind her.

When night finally fell, Ellyn sat up, waiting tensely. Quell emerged from his hiding place, stretching luxuriously, then immediately tried the door. He cursed, then backed a bit and tried to ram it down.

The door dented slightly where he had hit it, but other than that it did not budge.

"Quite impossible," Quell sighed, rubbing his shoulder. "Steel-reinforced."

The night, unfortunately, passed uneventfully. They discussed possible strategies late into the night, none of which were plausible and most of which involved the door being open by the outside, until Quell retreated, grumbling, back under the bed as dawn approached, complaining that he felt as though he were some sort of secret liaison in some sort of penny-dreadful.

Ellyn had found something to do. Joe's collar had razor blades fitted into them, and she had pried out a section of the polished wooden flooring, cutting out a bit of wood about as long as her foot, then proceeded to sharpen the end, with Joe helping.

***

Days passed, as they were shut up inside the room. Occasionally voices could be heard outside, but nothing much happened. It became increasingly obvious what they were trying to do ... sometimes some non-vampire servant would pass in bottles of water from the window, but would not communicate with them. Neither did the servants appear to be human. Their captors clearly intended to starve them to death ... or worse, since Quell had no way to get any blood, and refused to take theirs.

"If I let myself," Quell told them, "I'm afraid I will lose control... I have gone without for longer before."

"I wonder what Tulan's doing," Ellyn murmured, her voice noticeably weaker with hunger.

"He probably can't find us in this place," Quell sighed. "My folly. I should have told him the location of the villa in case something happened."

"Can't he use his psychic power?" Joe asked.

"The place's shielded," Ellyn said, "I can see it. You'd need a very strong psychic call to give him a location, if he notices it at all..."

"So what's going to happen?" Joe sighed.

"We're going to die," Ellyn said frankly. Neither Quell nor Joe contradicted her.

***

Zaknafein had recovered enough to be able to move with his usual ease, though too much strain would send dark spots dancing across his vision. If he moved too sharply, the now-familiar nausea would well up without fail. Mary firmly confiscated his weapons, and also subjected him to a long lecture when he tried to explain why he should practice with them.

Tulan, looking pale and drawn from worry, sat in the sick room with him, eyes blank as he searched with his mind. Keighvin had mentioned something about 'Tannim and Shar' in Paris, where they were now making inquiries, being close to the boy whom had gone with Ellyn.

At least none of them were dead... except Vaire. All of their allies who could contact the 'spirit realm' had confirmed that. Only Vaire's spirit had been spotted...moving too fast for them to ask her or even discover where she had 'come' from. Vampire souls were 'delayed' in their 'human' shells, and the older they were, the faster they moved through the spirit realm to get to their final destination. Vaire was nearly as old as her brother.

It was some comfort, but not much.

Not even Madrek, whom had quietly used his power to summon up assorted creatures to look for them, had established anything as yet. Most of the others were involved in the preliminary skirmishes with those attempting to open the Gates ... mostly minions of the Seven, or perhaps six? The vampires had apparently retreated from the picture, refusing to help either side. One reason was that the Rook was tied up with something, the other, better reason could be that the Rook was dead...

There was a concentrated activity in a portion of Underhill, possibly where they would attempt to open the Gates. Their forces would be spread too thinly if they attempted to surround and contain the activity, so they were just fighting for or defending some of the places near or in the 'enemy territory'.

The prospect was bleak. Though matched in numbers currently, one more of the 'layers' had fallen, and there was obviously a force aiding the enemy... a strong magical one.

Tulan knew that they would be overwhelmed if more of the layers fell, but currently he couldn't care less. He was more concerned about Ellyn.

Zaknafein attended most of the war-councils now, though he did not contribute often. He knew that even with his years of experience in war, it was between Houses, not even between cities ... he had no experience with such large-scale war, and was frank enough to admit it to himself, allowing the rest to speak.

There was nothing to do but wait.

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Lledrith RavenWolf