Post November Stuff

Word Count: 4297

"That was stupid," Trevelyn said to Iber as his horse galloped away with him on it. She could see the confusion on his face as he stared at the back of his hands, then at his horse which was rapidly disappearing into the distance. If he looked close enough, he'd notice the dirt on the ground below was visible through his hands. Trevelyn and Iber had become slightly transparent.

"What's going on?"

"He set it all up, you know. I watched him. He didn't even kill anyone. It was quite easy for him. Next time you need to make sure the people are really dead before you panic."

"But the neighbors were digging their grave."

"Nelyr just waved his hand and poof! They got this glassy look in their eyes and just started agreeing to everything he said."

"Then explain to me how I just road away on my horse." He pointed up the road where the horse had run. "And how did you get here so quickly?"

"I was here the whole time. I have to follow Nelyr around. And that was your body, not your soul, I think."

"My body is right here, isn't it? Oh." Iber had finally noticed he was transparent. He tried to pick up a weed on the side of the road, but it slipped through his fingers.

"Stop wasting your time. You can't touch it. You can't touch anything. We're stuck halfway between that world and wherever we are now. I can't believe we were both stupid enough to fall for his little act."

"Your Highness, I think," Iber began. Trevelyn quickly cut him off.

"Don't call me that." Iber looked even more stumped.

"What do you want me to call you?"

"My name is Trevelyn. Call me that, or hey you, or peasant girl, or Trevvie, but don't ever call me a princess again. I'm not one. Never have been. It's all just one big disastrous evil huge mistake."

"What?"

"You heard me," she sighed. "Everyone in the entire world seems to think I'm a princess, and if that son of a rat eating hedgewart won't fix my problems, I'm going to have to do it by myself, one person at a time… even if you're the only person who seems to be able to see me right now."

"But Your Highness, I…" Trevelyn felt the anger burn and errupt within her. She reached over to grab the front of his tunic but as they were both not quite solid, her hands went completely through him and emerged effortlessly on the other side. Unfazed, she withdrew her hands and threw a punch at his nose. Just the look of sheer horror on his face satisfied her anger.

"Ugh! Oh Good Great Mages descend and preserve us." Iber shouted the old prayer as he shook himself and backed well away from Trevelyn. She laughed humorlessly.

"You are a Great Mage, silly. No one's coming to preserve us but ourselves." She kicked at the dirt. Her slipper remained spotless.

Without warning her breath began to pull from her chest. She tingled all over.

"What's going on now? Are we dying?" Iber panicked.

"No, it's happened before. We are just going to completely disappear for a moment or two, and then reappear wherever that bugger eating old fart went." The last part of her epithet didn't quite make it into existence before the road, field and Iber faded away into a big blur of white, before growing darker and reforming into an old cottage.

"Does this man know what the word cleaning means?" Trevelyn crossed her arms and stared at the room in disgust. The interior was dark, stones jutted out of the wall, parts of the ceiling sagged in badly need of repair. Pots pans bottles all covered in varying degrees of dust covered every countertop and filled all the corners. Nelyr, obviously at home, began to sort his way through the bottles, and littered junk, quite spryly for an aging ancient. For a moment he even hummed a tuneless bar before thankfully ending in a triumphant chuckle when he found what he was looking for. Iber rolled his eyes.

"What if we’re stuck like this forever?"

"Well, if Nelyr is true to form we’ll have some company soon. Look, he’s going to peer into that cauldron thing, speak some made up words and then head off to his next victim."

"We must try and do something. We can’t just remain here, helpless."

Nelyr waved his hand over the rather plain looking pot with a broken handle on the left side. He apparently saw something interesting as he chuckled and turned quickly.

Iber growled and lunged at the pot, managing only to fall through it to the cluttered floor. For a moment his invisible momentum caused him to sink about six inches into the floor before slowly rising to hover an inch from the ground. Iber sighed emphatically, suddenly realizing he could hold his breath forever and never feel it.

"At least there’s no such thing as pain in this existence."

"Yeah, and no such thing as food either," Trevelyn muttered as she watched Nelyr unwrap bits and pieces of bread and cheese to make a sandwhich. He pressed two slices together, squishing them hard, before stuffing them into his mouth. He turned here and there muttering to himself, spilling out half eaten bits carelessly.

"He’s an absolute pig! Definitely don’t want to deal with this for the rest of my life." Nelyr darted out his tongue and took a long lick from his wrist to the tip of his finger. Trevvie turned and walked right through the wall.

Iber followed her, only slightly leery now of stepping through solid objects. Outside was a great relief. Iber could almost feel the breeze touching his skin as he watched the bright green leaves dancing with the sunlight, making patterns on the dirt pathway that led to the cluttered cottage. They were completely surrounded by trees that seemed to make way for the cottage and give it a healthy berth. There was no sign of a village or any other human life through the dense growth, which for a man who seemed to be able to travel about by will alone, that wouldn’t be a problem.

"Why is he doing this anyway? It’s obviously not what the other Great Mages wanted."

"He’s kind of like a hungry dog that’s been starved and will eat so much that he’ll get sick the first time he sees food."

"And we’re the food."

"To him, our powers… the ones we don’t even know how to use… are making him strong again."

"And once he’s gobbled up all of us? And there is only one Great Mage?"

"Then the world will belong to him alone."

"We’re not going to let that happen."

"You have a plan"?"

"Of course not. But a true gentleman is always ready to think on his feet. Surely, as the most powerful people on the planet we should find some way to be useful."

"Yes. Two people who chose to give up that power willingly. What makes you think we deserve it back?"

"Because Nelyr obviously doesn’t deserve it."

"And there’s only black and white in this world? I’ll not follow along on any of your crazy schemes. That’s what got me into this in the first place. Following along. I’m not going to be a follower any more." Trevelyn shouted in frustration.

Iber watched Trevelyn as he too felt the pull that meant Nelyr was again on the move, ready to add to his score.

34

The book was calling to him. No, calling wasn't the right word. It was laughing at him, mocking him, teasing him from the top shelf of the darkest corner of the crypt. It had low, the merest chuckle., but now Saratin felt compelled to get off his stool.

He moved the lamp into the corner and looked up. Indeed, sitting there rather imperially for a tomb covered in dust was a single volume on its side, out of reach of even the tallest stepladder in the crypt. Saratin tried to reach it anyway. He climbed to the top of the ladder and stood on the tips of his toes but his fingers were still six inches from their target. The book thought this was hilarious. Saratin didn't appreciate the joke. He scrambled down and crossed his arms across his chest. If the book had a tongue, it would surely be extended towards him. Instead, Saratin stuck his own tongue out at the book.

With another deep breath of determination, Saratin retreated to the desk and lifted the heftiest of the precious books. The dust rose around him as he plunked it down on the top of the stepladder. As Saratin placed the second and the third volumes atop the ladder, the book giggled like an impatient child waiting for someone to uncover a practical joke.

"Really now. Did you think I wouldn't get you?" Saratin said to the book as he climbed atop the stack. "I don't ever intend to be outsmarted by a…"

"Brother Saratin?" Brother Chau stood with a plate in one hand, a lamp in the other, and his eyes glued to Saratin's feet, which were presently standing on three priceless treasures. The book thought this was uproariously funny. Saratin snatched the book off the shelf and scampered down, nearly falling headfirst into the bookcase in his haste. After catching his balance, he held out the book as a half hearted explanation. Brother Chau simply remained silent his eyes darting from Saratin's face, to the book, then to the book stacked ladder and back again.

"Can't you hear it?"

"Hear what?"

"It's laughing. I think it knew you were coming. Don't look at me like that." Saratin brushed past the brother to place the book on the desk. He wiped the liberal dust from its cover. Its cover was conspicuous in its lack of design. There were no fancy scrollings, gilt leaves, or pain staken letters on the plain black leather cover.

"You tread on books for that? You've wasted your time. You won't even be able to open that. It's the private journal of The Great Mage Geoi. It will only open under his..." Saratin opened the book at its middle.

Brother Chau dropped his tray. Saratin scrambled after the lamp let loose from Chau's other hand.

"By the power of the Great Mages! How did you do that?" The tray and its contents completely forgotten, Brother Chau approached the book and extended a finger to stroke the page. He withdrew his hand when the book snapped shut almost catching his finger between it's pages. Undaunted, Saratin simply reached over and opened the book again.

"It's laughing at you. Just like it was laughing at me. I think it's still laughing at me. Brother Chau examined the book again, this time at a distance, with a gaze that was equal parts horror and reverence.

"I cannot hear anything. But the Great Mages must have imbibed you with some power to help them in their return! Yet it is unfortunate the book is written in Geoi's personal script, a language known only to Geoi himself."

Saratin stared at the unfamiliar characters that covered the page in smooth undecorative print. He was quite sure he'd never seen anything like it before, but suddenly words floated into his head, one after the other, and formed into sentences. The script became paragraphs with meaning and Saratin was reading before he even could name the letters of the strange alphabet. "It's about pickles."

"What?"

"Pickles. Farmers and pickles. There was some sort of argument about pickles and the whole thing got so out of hand they had to bother the Great Mage."

"That seems almost blasphemous."

"Actually, he seemed to think it was quite funny, to be expected to spend part of one's day playing judge over a pickle quarrel." The door to the chamber swung wildly open, barely giving Brother Chau time to slide out of the way. Brother Pogle rushed in looking quite worse for wear, as if he'd sprinted his way through the catacombs with his eyes closed. His cheeks were ruddy and his breaths came in huge gulps like a fish struggling in the air. Almost as soon as he caught his breath, he began muttering nonsense.

"He's alive... but not. Horse fine. Breathing… can't wake him up. Just rode in… good horse that… but we don't… we. We. We."

Brother Chau laid a hand on Pogle's shoulder, which instantly seemed to calm him. "Now, who has ridden in on a horse?"

"The Lordling Menymus," he said as he pointed to Saratin. "But he's unconscious and unwakeable." Saratin's stomach began to knot.

"Take me to him." There was no argument. As the two other brothers started into the catacombs, Saratin turned and picked up the book which had thankfully stopped laughing. Brother Chau made no comment when he saw the priceless volume underneath Saratin's arm. He simply let his former novice pass ahead of him in the corridor and watched him with a curious and thoughtful eye. The book belonged to Saratin now. Even though he hadn't a clue of what it might contain, he knew that it might be the key to understanding the powers that apparently were welling inside him. Saratin didn't feel any different. Perhaps if he felt strange or unusual he could have gladly confessed the whole tale to Brother Chau… but here he was, the same young man who'd left on a supply run, only a few days older and not a whole lot wiser.

Saratin held his breath and made a quick wish. Please let waking Iber be simple and easy. Let it just be food poisoning or something. By the time we reach the infirmary, let Brother Ettu, the resident healer, already be pouring broth down his throat, and lecturing Iber on the perils of road travel and cleanliness.

"I cannot find a single thing wrong with him. The boy's in perfect health, except for the fact that he won't wake up." Brother Ettu lifted Iber's arm and dropped it emphatically on the table.

Saratin sighed and placed the book on the table at Iber's feet. He opened it and began to run his finger down the page.

"What is that? A medical text? If it's a medical text, shouldn't I be the one reading it." Brother Chau placed his hand over Brother's Ettu's reaching arm.

"It's the Book of Geoi." Brother Chau stated. A startled gasp ran through the group of Brothers that had gathered around to inspect the prone visitor.

Saratin paid them very little attention, though suddenly all eyes were upon him. "Somewhere in here it's bound to mention something about comas. It seems to be somewhat unorganized if comprehensive…" The book interrupted him with an unanounced flurry of flipping pages. The Brothers took a step back in unison. It stopped about three quarters of the way through the book, and as Saratin bent his head to read, it playfully flipped back one more page. Frustrated, Saratin slammed his hand down on the page to hold it still. Another collective gasp erupted, this one in shock of his blasphemy. Saratin simply read the page.

It is indeed possible for one Great Mage to temporarily transfer his energy into the care of another, however, the corporeal body will become inanimate, as if in a deep unwakeable sleep. It is quite a simple matter of two willing parties. The reversal of the process is a simple second physical contact between the corporeal bodies. We have used the strategy many times in the past decade as our powers wane and as individuals, we lack the strength to maintain larger spells. The danger would seem to be that an inanimate corporeal body will eventually die without its returned energy.

So if the book was pointing Saratin to the right place, Iber had willingly given his energy to another Great Mage. It didn't take much guessing to figure out who had the knowledge to do it.

"I need to find Nelyr."

"Great Mage Nelyr? Has he arisen? Oh joy!" A pleasured guffaw spread throughout the room.

"ummm. Yes… but where would he have arisen to?"

"Well, Tamarin, of course. The city will be beautiful once more and the Brothers shall bask in the knowledge of magic and serve the people as they once did, promoting peace and harmony throughout the land." Even the normally staid brothers were getting giddy. They were bunching up in groups that seemed to be multiplying as word spread throughout the monastery, talking and planning their new career goals.

"So what's the fastest way to Tamarin."

"Well," Brother Chau stated."In the old days, the portal was practically instant, but since the magic has gone… the thing has no use except for a nice place to sit on a hot day."

"Portal?" Saratin asked, having never heard of it before.

"Yes. The gazebo in the courtyard. It's a portal as well."

"Grab him," Saratin ordered, and several Brothers grabbed Iber's prone body off the examination table. Leading a long parade of Brothers out to the courtyard, Saratin strode purposefully to the rickety old shelter he'd always thought of as one of his favorite places to read.

Brother Chau used his sleeve to brush off a small gauge panel on one of the four legs of the gazebo. "Unfortunately there is still no power. It is useless, I'm afraid."

Undaunted, Saratin reached over and touched the panel firmly. The little lights lit up and the needles turned on the gauges.

"Power," he stated simply. "Now how's it work?"

"First we'll need to remove the benches," Brother Chau began unflappable. Several Brothers almost fought with each other to remove the benches. The entire monastery had by this time stopped their work and joined in the crowd. "Secondly, the person to be sent simply stands in the middle and one person pushes the button. Only one person at a time, and we must wait for it to recharge before sending another. It used to only take a few seconds… but then as the magic grew thin, it was more like months."

"So who should we send first?" Brother Pogle asked eagerly.

"Iber goes, then I do."

"And we'll follow? To Tamarin?"

"We don't even know if this is going to work!"

"Then put him in there!"

Brother Chau stepped in. "Brother Pogle, I salute your enthusiasm, but we must remember our patience. We must also wait for an invitation. It surely will not be long." His eyes searched for and held Saratin's hopefully. Saratin could only smile and nod as the brothers gently placed Iber into the center of the portal. Once they were clear, Brother Chau hit the button on the panel and wish a flash of light, Iber disappeared. A moment of awed silence was followed by a large cheer.

Brother Chau, wearing a concerned face, read the power meter again. "It's back down to zero. Who knows how long it will take to charge." Saratin obligingly placed his hand upon the panel and again it lit up. "Yes, that will work, but once you're gone, none of will be able to join you… if we weren't to wait for an invitation." A pleading look crossed Brother Chau's face as Saratin stood in the middle of the portal.

"I promise you, my brother," Saratin said, "that you will soon receive your invitaion, and the city of Tamarin will be glorious once more."

The Brothers applauded loudly and Brother Chau hit the button, sending Saratin on his way with a flash.

35

"Sometimes, you just need to cry," Mitty said to herself before dropping to her knees a safe distance from Malek and the road. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to beat his invisible body to a pulp and leave him on the side of the road. How hard could it be to get away with the murder of an invisible man? Just a little bump on the head and he'd be gone.

He'd come to rescue her, the stupid man. The stupid wonderful man. She sobbed harder. Pylon would have none of it. He pushed his pink wet nose under her chin and tried to lay one her lap. He positioned his ears in proximity to her hand for easy scratching.

"You're too big to be a lap cat, silly," Mitty said as she scratched his ears. His purr set off more tears.

"Do you think I'm in love with that horrible man?" Mitty wasn't sure if the increase of purr was an answer or a result of ear scratching. "Right. It would just be my luck to fall in love with a man who only sticks around because I'm the only one who can currently see him." Mitty hiccuped.

It wasn't easy being plain. She'd spent her whole life just sliding under the male population's field of vision. Mitty was unremarkable in every way. She was a piece of sturdy furniture to sit in while waiting for the rest of life to go on. Malek would disappear when he reappeared to the rest of the world. Mitty knew she couldn't hold his interest. The tears welled up again.

"Boundaries. I have them now," she told Pylon. "I'm putting up a fence. When he goes, he goes, and I'll… survive. I've got you haven't I. I've made my decision." Mitty sighed, trying to expel the emptiness that was sitting deep inside her. "Just five more minutes." Her sobs renewed.

"Hello my dear," a ratchety voice said from behind her. Mitty's head snapped up. Nelyr stood a few yard away from her, leaning his weight on a staff. He wasn't as gaunt as she remembered, a little fatter around the face, if a man with a mass of wrinkles could be fat. Mitty wondered how long he'd been watching her cry.

"There are so few men in this world that have any sense," Nelyr casually stated as he took a step forward. Pylon's fur bristled silently under her grasp. She stroked him, just a warning that she too did not trust the strange mage.

"He's left you, hasn't he? He couldn't handle the magic." Another step forward set Pylon's tail lashing. "Or the cat."

"He's waiting for me… on the road," Mitty stated as she used her sleeve to wipe away the remainder of her cry.

"Right. Of course he is," Nelyr chastised, as he were calling a child's bad bluff. "He's long gone, isn't he?" Nelyr stated with more assurance.

Malek's voice rang out through the trees. "Actually, he's right behind you, wondering where in the world you've gone off to. I know girls take a while for the call of nature, but it was getting quite ridiculous… and then I thought of dragons. There are still dragons around here, most likely."

"Now that you are a Great Mage, you're like a daughter to me. A granddaughter, anyway. I want to help you in any way that I can. We can do without him." Nelyr's face was creepily serene.

Malek glared and walked straight up to Nelyr. He waved his hand almost brushing Nelyr's nose.

"What kind of Great Mage is he if he can't see me?" Nelyr took Mitty's silence as a slight success.

"Come. I have a cottage. Just hold my hand and I'll take you there."

Malek approached Mitty and ordered, "Don't let him touch you. It would be bad. He's lying."

"What proof have you?" Mitty asked.

"Use your eyes," Malek spoke, "Can't you see them? Over there. That knight and his princess… sorry. No one told me." The last comment was directed to empty space to Malek's right.

"Come now, what proof do you seek?" Nelyr asked, oblivious to Malek or the "them" he seemed to be conversing with.

Mitty listened to Malek's side of the conversation. "You're worse off than me. I can see right through you. Are you dead? I suppose you want me to help? Well, you don't need to be snotty, Your Highness. Alright. Alright."

"Well, Mitty?" Her name sounded foreign on his tongue. Sinister. Mitty was simply trying to absorb the half heard conversations.

"I don't want to go to your cottage. I want… I want to go… I want to see Saratin."

"What good's the monk going to do?" Malek shouted, suddenly turning his full attention back to Mitty.

"He's a Great Mage now too, like me. He's like your grandson. He's my friend. Surely you want to know him too!" Mitty bit her lip and sniffed in the fashion of a little girl. She ignored Malek's growl. It didn't matter if he bought the act. She was concetrating on Nelyr.

Caving in, as she expected, Nelyr shifted his weight.

"Fine, fine, we'll find Saratin to bring along."

"And Pylon too!" Mitty wrapped her arms around the cat's thick neck. The fear in Nelyr's eyes betrayed his cool exterior.

"Just touch him with your hand… and he'll come too, like a chain." Without asking, Malek approached and grabbed Mitty tightly around the middle. She could feel the warmth of him surround her. He obviously didn't mean to get left behind. Mitty grabbed a hold of Pylon with one hand, and stretched the other out to Nelyr. He approached warily, his eyes on Pylon.

"For the record, I don't believe this is a good idea," Malek stated. Pylon growled in agreement causing Nelyr to scuttle back a few feet before braving the distance to her hand. He touched Mitty and her hand began to tingle and suddenly the whole world became a bright light.

The white light of travel dimmed from Trevelyn’s eyes and she realized they were back somewhere in the forest. The cottage was nowhere in sight. Mitty however was hunched over the big green cat crying her eyes out. Nelyr approached her.

"Hello my dear," he said. Trevelyn sighed as history began to repeat itself. Really, at least there’d be another female to talk to. Iber simply stood staring at the back of his see through hands at a tree trunk.

"There are so few men in this world that have any sense," Nelyr stated. "He's left you, hasn't he? He couldn't handle the magic." The cat growled as he approached Mitty. Good. "Or the cat."

"He's waiting for me… on the road," Mitty said, hugging all the tighter to her protective pet.

"Right. Of course he is. He's long gone, isn't he?" Nelyr stated half mocking, half sympathizing. Trevelyn was really beginning to hate this guy, feeding off everyone’s pain for his own purposes.

"Actually, he's right behind you, wondering where in the world you've gone off to." Iber’s head snapped up. He too had not heard Malek’s approach. At least she wasn’t alone. Nelyr couldn’t play off her fears with him around. "I know girls take a while for the call of nature, but it was getting quite ridiculous… and then I thought of dragons. There are still dragons around here, most likely." He folded his arms across his chest threw a distrusting stare Nelyr’s way.

"Now that you are a Great Mage, you're like a daughter to me. A granddaughter, anyway. I want to help you in any way that I can. We can do without him." Malek approached Nelyr and waved his arms in front of his face.

"What’s he doing?" Iber stated.

"What kind of Great Mage is he if he can't see me?" Malek said to Mitty.

"I can see you," Trev stated ironically. Nelyr couldn’t see Malek, Malek couldn’t see her, and… Malek was staring straight at her, his eyes examining her thoroughly from head to foot, then moving to Iber. He could see them!

"Malek! You wonderful man! You can see us? Nelyr can’t see us. He’s evil… completely. He’s stolen our powers and turned us into ghosts. Whatever you do, don’t let him touch you… that’s how he does it."

"Trev. You’re wasting your time. They can’t see or hear us, remember? You’re wasting your breath." Malek looked in Iber’s direction and raised his eyebrow questioningly. Iber’s gasp was quite audible. "He can hear us!" Now Trevelyn rolled her eyes.

"Come. I have a cottage. Just hold my hand and I'll take you there." Iber and Trev both started loud protesting at the same time.

Malek approached Mitty and ordered, "Don't let him touch you. It would be bad. He's lying."

"What proof have you?" Mitty asked.

"Use your eyes," Malek spoke. "Can't you see them? Over there. That knight and his princess…"

"I’m not a bloody princess! Stop calling me that!" Trevelyn screamed in frustration.

"Sorry." Malek took a step back. "No one told me."

"Come now, what proof do you seek?" Nelyr asked. It was strange. It was confusing trying to understand who could see and hear whom.

"Come on, Mr. Invisible. Knock him on his butt!" Trevelyn shouted.

"You're worse off than me. I can see right through you. Are you dead?"

"No, we’re not dead? Do we look like corpses? We’ve just lost our corporeal form and need to get them back." Iber stated.

"I suppose you want me to help?" Malek asked.

"Are you lackwitted? Of course we expect you to help. We’re not exactly in the position to help ourselves." She stuck her hand through Nelyr’s chest to exemplify her point.

"Well, you don't need to be snotty, Your Highness."

"Not a princess!"

"Alright. Alright." Malek turned his attention towards Mitty. It was obvious he was a bit leery of the whole situation. His plan was probably to save Mitty and Iber and Trev work out their own problems.

"Well, Mitty?" Nelyr asked. Mitty apparently had her own agenda.

"I don't want to go to your cottage. I want… I want to go… I want to see Saratin."

"That’s a good idea. If anyone knows what’s going on, Saratin can figure it out," Iber said, apparently having complete confidence in his friend.

"What good's the monk going to do?" Malek shouted.

"Stop being jealous and think for a minute. He’s smarter than all four of us."

Mitty unknowingly added to Iber’s argument. "He's a Great Mage now too, like me. He's like your grandson. He's my friend. Surely you want to know him too!"

"Fine, fine, we'll find Saratin to bring along." Nelyr said, bowing to the sweet fluttering eyes of Mitty. Tear stained, she made a pitiful sight, but as a woman, Trevelyn knew she was playacting most of the tears now. She wasn’t alone… and she knew it.

"And Pylon too!" The cat was almost a deal breaker. Nelyr and Pylon had a healthy disrespect for each other.

"Aww come on… it’s just a cat." Trevvie said, teasing the unhearing Nelyr. He sighed, psyching himself up for the task.

"Just touch him with your hand… and he'll come too, like a chain." Malek immediately wrapped himself around Mitty with a life grip.

"One big happy family." He glared at Trevelyn.

"For the record, I don't believe this is a good idea," Malek stated.

"Well, a bad idea is still an idea, and it beats hanging around in the forest. Maybe Saratin will have the answer." Trevelyn watched Nelyr carefully. It was a risk to trust him to touch Mitty and Malek together. If it worked, they’d have a better chance of beating Nelyr and getting back to their proper selves. If it went wrong. Well, at least they’d get company.

Finally things were beginning to make sense to Lasser. He had a task: go to the City of Tamarin to rescue a damsel in distress. Of course nothing turns out as easy as it sounds. Instead of killing a dragon he was trading jokes and accepting rides on one. Instead of seeking out the damsel, he had carefully pinned her snoring form between her lady in waiting and himself. The said damsel was beginning to drool on the back of Lynnah’s dress.

The countryside was flying swiftly be as the dragon surged the muscles underneath them to beat the steady wings. The ride would have been a pure delight if the girls’ hair hadn’t whipped his face in the wind.

Lasser wondered how he got himself into these messes. Thinking back, he should have just let the troll eat the two of them. Then he’d still be back in the forest doing exactly what he did best. Unfortunately that was taking care of the stupid things that wandered into the forest. His short taste of city life had only made him miss the unmated beauty of the forest.

Tamarin, the legendary city of the Great Mages, a city which, according to most accounts, was a city they seldom left. Would he be expected to do the same? Become a city dweller? Power, or no power, cities and people made him crazy.

That didn’t mean that Lynnah had little appeal. She was beautiful and charming. Their picnic had been delightful if short lived, and she definitely had no idea how to survive in a forest. She was city dweller from her well placed hair to her dainty pink slippers. There could be very little future between the two of them. It was best not even to start thinking out how her smile lit her eyes and turned them into blue sparkling steams of joy. No… best not to start thinking anything at all.

Snult began a slow descent towards the foot of the mountain range they had been approaching for some time. He circled for a moment, getting his bearings, then dived down, sending his passengers searching for a better purchase on his slick scales.

"A little warning next time, please," Lynnah called out as Snult lowered himself in a small gap in the grove of trees below. Looking up through the canopy Lasser decided that nothing dragon sized was really small.

Lasser slid off hitting the ground rather hard and Lynah helped maneuver Trevelyn down into his arms. She snorted once, but made no further sign of waking. Snult began to shrink immediately, making Lynah’s dismount much more graceful. His size steadied about the size of a large rat… a flying rat. He flew into Lasser’s pack and deftly pawed his way in, emerging with a sausage.

"Flying makes me hungry." With less than polite etiquette, he began gnawing on the end of the sausage. Noticing their looks, Snult said with his mouth full, "I could always get larger and smoke up a couple of deer."

"Go right ahead and eat your sausage," Lasser said as he began to examine the clearing. He found a flat spot and laid the dead weight of Trevelyn gently on the ground.

"Actually food sounds like a marvelous idea." Lynah grabbed the pack. She rifled through it and pulled out a sheet and spread it on the packed earth. One by one, the contents were spread out like a feast. Lasser looked around, his better sense telling that he should scout around, making sure nothing dangerous lived in the unfamiliar terrain. Their position here was fairly visible, unprotected, and open for many avenues of attack. Lynnah apparently had no fear, or perhaps sense as she began to hum while arranging the impromptu picnic.

"I’m going to look around." Lasser unslung his bow.

"No. Eat now. Explore later. Sit."

"And what if there’s something out there waiting to eat us?"

"Then Snult will eat it before it has a chance to eat us. Right Snult?"

The dragon responded with a resounding burp. True, there was very very little they could encounter that could even closely match the power of a Great Dragon. Snult curled up around the remains of the sausage, using one end as a pillow and began to snore.

Lasser reluctantly sat down and picked at some of the food displayed. A pattern was beginning to emerge. The only thing he ever seemed to do in Lynah’s presence was picnic. If all she ever seemed to do was eat, Lasser would imagine she would have been a bit more plump around the middle. She just sat daintily with her legs tucked under her, sipping tea out of wooden cup as if it were a piece of delicate palace china. She nibbled at a meat pastry, with one hand gracefully placed to catch the crumbs.

It was time to check on Trevelyn. Lasser stood and approached the prone girl and lifted her hand. Her pulse was still strong, but she was as limp as the last time he checked.

"The princess is still asleep," Lasser stated as he straightened out and stared at the dense forest that surrounded the clearing on all but the side that butted up against the mountainside. Lynah choked on her pie.

"Shall we have a chat?" Lynah said as she patted the blanket next to her. Lasser turned away so she wouldn’t see his eyes rolling. The last thing he felt like doing was sitting down.

"Where is this city supposed to be anyway? You’d expect there to be a gate, or a sign or something. Are you sure we’re in the right place?" Lasser turned to the dragon, who continued unabated with his snoring.

"Lasser, I do have a confession… if you’ll sit down?"

"We would have seen it if we had flown over it, so it’s not that way," Lasser pointed into the forest.

"I’m the princess!" Lynah shouted. Caught off guard, Lasser turned to stare at Lynah, who had scrambled off her feet and was standing with her hands on her hips. "You are supposed to be gracious enough to listen when I am speaking. I asked you to sit down. It is I, and not Trevelyn who am the princess. What have you to say about that?"

"What do you want me to say?" Lasser asked dumbfounded. He still was slightly shocked about the fact that she was suddenly shouting at him.

"I don’t know why everyone at home thought that Trevvie, she’s my maid, that she was me… I just didn’t want to be a princess for a while. So we switched. I suppose it’s probably time to switch back. So you may call me Your Highness from now on." She crossed her arms across her chest and threw him a glare that dared him to contradict her.

"Fine, Your Highness, but it still makes you as useless as… as an extra toe!" Lasser shouted back at her. Why he was being attacked for her lies, he couldn’t figure out.

"Useless?"

"The only reason I’m in this mess is because I chose to save your life, which you seem to spend picnicking away like… like a cow in a pasture!" As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Lasser regretted them. He sucked in a breath and turned away from the look of rage on Lynah’s face.

"I’ll show you who’s useless! I’ll find that city, and fix Trevie, and have you banished! And I’m going to do it all without you!" Lynah stamped her foot so hard on the ground, Lasser thought she’d break it. "You, Trevelyn, stay here." She said to Trevelyn’s still sleeping form before turning, and stomping off into the forest.

She didn’t get 20 feet before letting off a blood-curling scream. Before it registered that Lasser was mad at her and letting her solve her own problems, he had his bow out, arrow notched and he was sprinting in her direction.

Lynah had tripped over a body.

"He’s asleep Lynah stated as she put her hand on the body’s chest, obviously forgetting she wasn’t speaking to Lasser. "He looks familiar. Oh! He’s the courtier from before. He’s a Great Mage, like us." And he too rested blissfully unaware of his surroundings. Two sleeping great mages could not be a coincidence.

"Here. Carry him over here next to Trevie."

Obviously not expecting to exert herself, the princess pointed at Lasser. Despite wanting to strangle Lynah and her mercurial moods, Lasser realized the logic. He unceremoniously grabbed the nobleman by his expensive boots and dragged him towards Trevelyn.

The two of them stood over the two sleeping forms placed side by side and pondered silently.

"Not another one!"

The two swiveled about to see Brother Saratin standing behind them.

"Where’d you come from?" Lasser asked, lowering his bow, which had reflexively raised at the sound of a new voice.

"Through a portal. It was supposed to take us to the City of Tamarin," Saratin said, looking around doubtfully.

"This is it, according to the dragon." Saratin followed Lasser’s gaze to Snult, still blissfully curled around his sausage.

"Can you wake her up?" Lynah put on a pout face somewhere between a puppy and a five year old asking for a pony.

"No, but I know how to." The pair waited for further explanation from the brother.

"Well, according to my book, Saratin patted the book under his arm, "we just have to get Nelyr to touch them, and if they want to return, they will do so."

"Nelyr? The old man? He did this?"

"Yes. He borrowed their powers."

"Borrowed? Stole you mean."

"Well, technically he has to have their permission to take their powers."

"But Trevelyn wouldn’t do something like that."

"He probably didn’t tell them they’d end up vegetables for life either."

"Right," said Lasser, "so get Nelyr to touch the bodies… and how do we find Nelyr?"

"Well, I was kind of hoping he’d be here. Let me ask the book."

"Ask it?"

"Yes. It kind of has a mind of its own." Saratin put the book down on a rock and opened to a random page.

"That’s funny. It says…"

He broke off suddenly as a white light flared up near them. When it faded, Nelyr, the girl named Mitty, and a big green cat stood observing their new surroundings.

Nelyr’s eyes went from the brother to the princess to Lasser and down to the two sleeping mages.

"Oh," was the only thing he said.

The book was once again giggling at Saratin, as if it knew that even as he opened the book, Nelyr had been transporting himself to this very spot. Words appeared mockingly on the page.

"Things come to those who wait," Saratin repeated them out loud.

Nelyr’s apparent shock at seeing them all there passed and he once again smiled feebly. But Nelyr was no longer feeble. His skin was rip and full like a man in the flush of middle age. His white hair, while wild, was growing in black at the roots. He was definitely aging in an unnatural direction.

"My dear grandchildren," he said, offering his hands in an amiable hug. No one moved to accept him.

"What a fortuitous coincidence that you are all here."

Saratin looked around. Four of them standing, two sleeping, and a cat against Nelyr… if he could include Mitty in the account. She could have been corrupted by Nelyr’s lies. And Malek? Where was he? Had Nelyr gotten to him as well? And what chance did they stand against a Great Mage? Even with greater numbers, they had no control over their new powers. Slow and easy was the best choice of action. Slow to reveal that they knew he was not the man he pretended to be.

Lynah stepped forward with her chin in the air. "I am her Royal Highness, Princess Lynah Elizabeta Noramie Delane, heir to the throne and you are definitely not my grandfather. You will return my handmaiden to her former condition of consciousness at once!"

So much for Plan A. Saratin turned to consult the book. For the first time, the pages were blank before his eyes. It obviously didn’t have a solution. It wasn’t laughing now.

"My dear child, you must remember. You are a Great Mage now.. as am I. The world of the mortals with their kings and queens no longer belongs to you. As for Trevelyn," Nelyr moved towards the prone bodies. He crouched next to Trevelyn and lovingly stroked her cheek with his finger.

"She is not hurt. Simply asleep, a condition which I promise to find a cure for as soon as possible…"

"You lying son of a troll!" Trevelyn’s eyes flew open. "You pock marked puss filled canker blossom," she shouted and sat up, fists curled tightly at her sides. Nelyr jumped away, eyes widened with surprise.

"You can’t wake up," he stated factually.

"You egotistical slob, stinky smelly… you… you…" Having run out of swear words, she pounded the ground with her fists. "You! You!"

"Ingrate?" Lynah added.

"Malignancy?" Lasser suggested.

"OHHH!" Trevelyn’s shout made a shockwave through the clearing. Nelyr suddenly flew back, flying through the air, slamming into a tree at the far side of the glade. Saratin swore he saw lightning bolts fly from her eyes.

There was a moment of absolute silence as not even the wind dared to move. The birds held their breath.

"He made me so mad!"

"You’re awake!" Lynah shouted happily as she grabbed her friend.

"I’m not too happy with you at the moment either, Your Highness." Her voice was ice cold. Lynah released her and stared with her puppy look again, eyes wide, lip trembling. Trevelyn’s eyes softened. She wouldn’t be mad at her friend for long.

"So how’d she wake up?" Lasser asked, directing his question to Saratin.

"I suppose someone forgot to tell Nelyr that a simple touch was the only way to transfer power back to her." They all stared at Nelyr, who lay crumpled and unmoving against the tree.

Malek grabbed Iber by the ankles and dragged him towards Nelyr. Once close enough, Malek turned Nelyr over, and dropped Iber’s lifeless hand on the unconscious mage’s face. It was immediately removed under its own power as Iber scrambled to his feet and began to dust himself off.

"There." Malek stated. "Life saved. Happy now?"

"Quite. But did you have to drag me?" Iber asked.

Malek let out an undeterminable grunt and began to search Nelyr’s possessions.

"Saratin, my good friend," Iber said extending his hand. He shook Saratin’s hand and warmly patted his shoulder.

"Thank you for taking care of my body while I was away."

"Well, your horse did most of the work," Saratin said with a smile, then began to puzzle. There they all were again, seven of them in the forest glade, with Nelyr.

"Where did Malek come from?" Saratin asked when he finally realized what was bothering him.

"Oh, he was here all along… just invisible." Malek stood up holding a bag confiscated from Nelyr. He looked pointedly at Lynah and waved. She waved back. A satisfied grin spread across his face. He pulled at the laces of the bag and peered inside. Malek reached in and his entire arm disappeared into it, even though it wasn’t deep enough to read his elbow. He pulled out a book which Saratin recognized as the one that released their powers. Malek made a movement to set it on the ground, but again out the earth sprouted a book stand.

"I guess it doesn’t like to sit on the ground," Iber commented as Malek placed it on the stand.

Malek reached his hand once more into the bag and pulled out the key.

Saratin approached the book. Malek offered the key, but he could see it was still unlocked. He gingerly opened the cover, and then began flipping pages.

"It’s blank!" Iber stated from behind them.

"Yes, but that doesn’t mean anything. Could just be another form of protection."

"I say we shake the information out of him," Trevelyn said viciously.

"I’m afraid that’s going to be a problem," Mitty added as she pointed to the now vacant trunk of the tree. "He just disappeared."

"Saratin heard Malek utter something foul under his breath."

"I suggest we don’t go after him just yet. We don’t know enough of what other things he could be capable," Lasser said.

"As if we could go after him. We don’t know where he went," Lynah countered.

"He lives in a cottage… a forest. We were there," Trevelyn said.

"But we have no idea of how to get there. We blinked in and out with him," Iber added.

"So what do we do next? Do we even know where we are?" Mitty asked.

"We’re at the Gates of the City of Tamarin," Saratin stated. "Just don’t ask me where the gates are."

Always practical, Malek silently rummaged through his bag and brought out the locater ball. "The Gates of the City of Tamarin," he stated clearly to the ball, which immediately began to glow. He walked towards the forest and the ball began to dim so he turned and walked directly towards the face of the cliff.

"How are we going to climb the cliff?" Trevelyn stated as she stared up the at the rock face. The ball brightened as Malek got closer. When he reached the rock wall, he walked a few steps to the left and it dimmed, so he turned to the right and after a few yards it began to dim again. Malek raised the ball above his head, and it dimmed again.

"It’s not up the cliff. It is the wall. There must be a door around here somewhere."

The group of mages began feeling the cliffside, looking for a door. After about five minutes of searching, they gave up.

"Nobody bothers to ask the dragon," a voice from behind them said. Lasser turned and smiled.

"Snult, our good friend, who slept his way through most of the afternoon, where’s the door?"

"Where is not the question," Snult said unwrapping himself from the sausage, pausing to take a bite. "Why don’t you try the key?"

"The key!" Saratin said loudly, holding his hand out to Malek who quickly offered it. Saratin looked at the key. He knew there wasn’t a key hole… they’d looked thoroughly for one before. With a quick breath of determination, he plunged the key towards the rock. Instead of the clang he was half expecting, his arm met with slight resistence, then the key embedded itself into the cliff, like a knife into a hard stick of butter. It took two hands to turn, but it did, clicking and scraping something inside the cliff. Suddenly, the key was ejected, forcing his hands back and pushing him off balance into Iber who was standing behind him.

The cliff literally melted away. The rock liquefied and ran down the face and reformed itself into even cut granite below their feet, and two ornate columns on either side of the cliff. An archway formed, connecting the two columns, and within a minute’s time, a tunnel appeared into the cliff.

"Well, I suppose that’s our welcome mat into the City of Tamarin," Saratin stated with a smile, as soon as the rock stopped moving and reforming. He turned to pick up his book off the ground. Iber picked up the other one and the stand melted into the ground, leaving no trace of its previous existence. Lasser and Lynah began to pack up the picnic that lay forgotten on the blanket and Snult finished the last of his sausage. The dragon flew up and perched onto the ranger’s shoulder.

"All ready to go then?" Trevelyn announced. Everyone stood, except for Mitty who sat on a rock, the big cat lying beside her, with only his tail flicking back and forth.

"You should go on. I don’t belong. A brother, a princess, a nobleman. I’m a mistake. I don’t fit in. I can’t offer you anything. I’m a tailor’s daughter… and I can’t even sew very well. Go on without me."

"Is that so?" Malek stated, crossing his arms across his chest. "And what am I supposedly good at that makes me so worthy to be in this group?"

She thought for a moment. "You’re good at… finding things. Brother Saratin is good with information. The ranger is good with the forest. Sir Iber is a nobleman. Princess Lynah is good with command."

"And what am I good with," Trevelyn asked, hands on her hips.

"Well, you’re obviously good at throwing people across the forest." Trevelyn blushed.

"I’m not going anywhere without you, and I’m not staying here for that rotten rat to come back." Malek said as he pulled Mitty to her feet. Pylon didn’t even growl.

"But I’m no good at anything!" Mitty shouted again. Malek pulled her into an embrace.

"You’re good at being my heart," he rumbled. "You’re good at being my conscience. Without you, I’m invisible… and I don’t want to be invisible anymore."

"Oh," was all she could say before Malek kissed her. The other mages suddenly looked at their shoes or found something extremely interesting about the carved columns.

"Besides," Malek said, ending the kiss and dragging her forward, "you don’t have anywhere else to go. If you go home, they’ll arrest you."

"We’re all homeless now," Trevvie reflected. "Lynah can’t go back to being a princess, and Iber’s father despises him," she continued.

"And I was raised to be a Brother, a servant of the Great Mages. I can’t go back to that," Saratin stated.

"And the forest has changed so much, I don’t know if I could call it home," Lasser added.

"We’re all orphans now… and from now on we stick together. The whole world will be depending on us. We’ll need to learn quickly if we want to stay ahead of Nelyr." Saratin stared at the gateway. "There is no going back. There hasn’t been from that day in the forest. There might not have been a way going back since we were born. I think we were meant to change. We were meant for this." He stared at Mitty. "All of us." Saratin nodded at the group and entered the doorway. Iber, Trevelyn, Lynah, and Lasser followed. With a squeeze of hands, Malek and Mitty stepped forward as well, with Pylon right at their heels.

The End