The cold grey afternoon of Mocrolester 46, Lady Aeysla of Moncrovia awaited the return of Tarnac the Short Elf and a stranger named K’aleb on a rock next to Lorax Stream in the northwestern forest of Asch’endra-Conschala. "Where are you, my dear elfling friend?" she asked the many-colored leaves.

It was Mocr’inox Day, autumn equinox, but neither full daylight nor the harvest moon had Aeysla seen for the past three weeks of her travel around the Horn of Asch’endra, the Straits of Flooher’ty and west coast cities onward to the rough deep of the Calitain-Saph’ta Ocean. Not only did the fog cover much of the land since her teacher Oromasus’ death, but Captain Eedebee required both Aeysla and her mount Summer to stay mostly below deck in order that the Elven grey-ship Bugbear could remain hidden during their trek toward the site of Tarnac’s return to the Terran realm.

Summer, a chestnut unicorn, nudged his brown horn into Aeysla’s thigh and she patted his head. "Good boy. We have each other, at least, for companionship." Summer helped himself to the river’s water and Aeysla adjusted her position on the mossy stone, wrapped her brown cloak around herself more tightly and pulled the cowl over her head, shivered and wished Eedebee had not desired to stay aboard the ship.

Aeysla was grateful for the variety of provisions Eedebee had stocked her leather satchel with and knew that her wish for Human company was selfish. Eedebee needed to protect her vessel, and she did not have any horse of her own, so when she had steered the Bugbear as far up the mile-wide Ospet River to where it that met Lorax as she could, they docked at an outcropping of rock and said their goodbyes to one another, with Aeysla continuing on up the Loran shoreline to this point.

The northwest forest of Loran occupied a line of gradually more even vales and hills stretching from Mount Chespeake in the Verdish chain westward along the Asch’endran side of the republic to the steep black rock stormcliffs of the Igri strait, where the Calitain once burst through the land to form Princess Igri Island. Eedebee had chosen to travel the strait in order to save them a day, though the skyward cliffs threw back the wind and ocean to make their passage many-fold more difficult. At another time Aeysla would have endeavored the black-stone path through a crack in the impossible drop of Igri Island so that she could visit the hearty village of Carouva’env in order to meet the Humans there, who in order to survive the rigorous elements had become something of small Giants, massive in bulk and as tall as twelve feet.

A rustling sound shook Aeysla from her reverie, and Summer’s head lifted, dripping trails of water off his nose. "Who is there? Tarnac?"

Aeysla jumped off her rock and joined Summer, gazing as far through the fog as she might. But for the lack of any beasts or birds they encountered, the rustling might have been a woodland creature; Aeysla decided it was a falling branch, replenished her waterflask and resumed her stone. She produced an extra orange and rolled it toward Summer, now chewing on a low branch of yellow leaves; he sniffed the fruit, snatched and swallowed it within seconds and returned to his tree.

Summer was introduced to her by Oromasus when Aeysla had graduated her master’s training to be given her own spellbook and staff. The late wizard had presented her with these expected treasures, but after the ceremony at Castle Moncrovia almost three years before, the unicorn had appeared in the room as if on command, from the King’s own service and who had once been ridden by Princess Igri herself.

Aeysla shivered again; the opaline fog was constant here and where it was thickest she awaited Tarnac’s return from the pocket-realm of Loran, fog she thrice now identified with Xorus, God of Black Magic from the House of Terr’des – here, on the Isle of Sipsids which she had voyaged past in her youth, and around the foothills of Mount Carias and particularly Castle Moncrovia beginning the night that King Joel IV and Queen A’gren had been killed.

Aeysla thought of the last three weeks since she and Eedebee had escaped Prince Joel V, now acting regent of the Asch’endra-Conschalan commonwealth. The Hafer’ty accords of the Ten Kingdoms, amended in the year 3030, did not allow anyone to ascend to rule without first the blessing of the Sages, for it is a poor future, Aeysla remembered from Oromasus, who after serving the first Blue Rose King Joel I for thirty years joined the other high wizards to form the Order of the Sages, with young Lath-vecat as their leader, if a king takes his crown without the guidance of magic and wisdom. None of the Sages believed Prince Joel to be anything other than usurper to his parents’ throne and some even suspected that beyond posting reward notices and sending mercenaries all over Asch’endra-Conschala for the capture of Val’ha of Carias, Sir Tarl-Cabot and the Baroness Val Tress, the Prince had implicated them falsely and might even be one of those whose arrows had flown into the King and Queen’s backs.

Even at the time Aeysla had offered to help Val’ha in her quest to destroy the Terran Dragons, she felt a sense of fate and was assured in her role on the island, but after talking with Eedebee wished that Oromasus had said something, anything, to either of them of the "descendant of Ma’hadrin" whose prophecy it was to perform the tasks central to ending Xorus’ curse, much less Aeysla’s own path to the Valley of the Stones. Instead, though both Women knew the portion of the curse that pertained to the Dragon-army’s assault upon Joh’oprinia, nothing had Oromasus ever spoken to either of Ma’hadrin or his daughter. Perhaps it was just that he had given up hope on the prophecy. Ma’hadrin, vanished over two hundred years before, could easily be thought to be dead. Aeysla had, though, pondered over and again if anything would be different had she known before the voyage of the Goddess (or even seeing Tarl-Cabot again) that Val’ha sailed less than a day behind and would save her life.

Aeysla sneezed; Summer edged close to her sitting-rock and nuzzled for another fruit. "This is your last apple, we must save enough for our journey back as well as for Tarnac." Summer took his apple, snorted and walked away.

She recalled Lath-vecat’s communion with her about Tarnac - she had slept for most of day after a rolling noon quake threw about her home two leagues west of Moncrovia on the route to Bylikaegra known as Magickal Road. The painful headache she felt after the quake was strong still when she awoke that evening, but so too was her remembrance of Lath-vecat’s words. Go, Lady Aeysla, to the northwest forest near Loran, for on the forty-sixth day of this month Tarnac the Short Elf, to whom you have ministered, will return from his victory over Gargantua, freed of Terr’des’ lure.

I do not understand, though you come to me, why I am chosen for this task, she said. At that moment her dream had exploded in colors and lights, noises of all kinds and then black silence.

The sound of conversation trailed through the fog; Summer raised his head and blinked from sight. Aeysla retrieved from her satchel a cobraskin-hilted silver dagger, originally a gift from Azimq’haadrin’s High Wizarder to Oromasus, which could kill any wer’bete with one stab. Oromasus passed the magickal dagger on to Aeysla after her first spellcasting, a "wizard’s lock" that when she performed its incantation secured one of his chamber doors so strongly, none could even remove its hinges for the next three days.

With her dagger in hand, Aeysla intoned revis’fort-fantome in silence; a fire glowed within the ruby amulet that hung around her neck and she vanished, to await whoever (or whatever) came upstream.

Fallen leaves crackled. "Move along, Sargus," a Man’s voice said. At the edge of her periphery Aeysla could see the woodferns shuffle and three mounts in full saddlery and ropings – a grey packhorse laden with saddlebags, backpacks, flasks and sacks, a light-brown warhorse carrying a handsome, clean-shorn Man in woodland green with a knife and sword sheathed to his wide belt, and a fat white drafthorse upon which sat a short-bearded half-Dwarf. The Man who held the rope to the packhorse Sargus pulled the beast’s chin forward. "Move along, I say, old friend! Our destination is near and you do not want to be lost in the fog!"

"How long have you had this nag, Master Rootdan?" the half-Dwarf, dressed too finely for the many days of grime on their faces, asked, patting and smoothing the cuffs of his thick motley-colored wool overcoat, scarf, boots and ermine-lined stocking hat with gloves of Azimq’haadrin leather.

"Almost as long as I have Conoc, two years, Master Mecnoarv," said Rootdan.

"But you are not yourself more than twenty! For a guide, you made an early start. How is it you know so many off-paths and lost roads this far from Apocania?"

"My father, from his maps and journeys when I was a wisp."

"Well, young Man, thus far you have done me no wrong. I shall upon my return through Apocania commend merchant Jonathan for his recommendation of you, and you might inquire with him yourself about a new supply horse."

Rootdan laughed. The two riders stopped very near the rock upon which Aeysla still sat; Mecnoarv’s horse sniffed the air. "What do you sense, Creed? What is it, boy?" Aeysla froze, though there was little chance in her mind the two journeymates would expect an invisible wizard to be so close to them. Still…

Mecnoarv dismounted and led Creed to the stream. "Let us rest. The fog I have sought is thick here and the right color and this is as good a spot to wait as any, do you agree, Master Rootdan?"

"Yes, my lord!" Dan alit and after relieving his horses of their encumbrance began to prepare an encampment.

Aeysla panicked, for if she jumped off her rock island she would land in the leaves and her steps cause flurry. Summer, as usual when he disappeared, she did not know how near or far had gone, and the enchantment Oromasus wrote in her spellbook, which allowed her inner-realm travel, vanished upon his death. To her surprise, the unicorn reappeared at the river’s edge, calmly sharing the water with Creed.

The halfling jumped. "Heavens to Fenra!"

Rootdan dropped the oilflask he carried; its stopper popped out and the fuel spurt onto the forest floor. Knife drawn, he searched the trees and across Lorax before he resheathed his weapon. Realizing his horses were unconcerned about Summer’s appearance, he petted his back. "Greetings, magickal horse! From where have you traveled?"

"Where is his maiden rider?" That is my question." A smile joined Mecnoarv’s ears.

Outraged, Aeysla invoked revis’fort-fantome once more and enjoyed their shock when she rematerialized through the ruby glow. "I am the maiden rider." With her angry words and leap toward him from off the stone, Mecnoarv stepped back and tripped over a fallen branch, landing on his bottom. Aeysla could not help but laugh with Rootdan as the halfling struggled to his feet. "I am Aeysla of Moncrovia." When Mecnoarv recovered enough to speak again, he asked Aeysla what she was doing at that particular rock. "I await a friend," she answered. "Around this place is a portal to another realm from which I expect him to return today."

"My name is Mecnoarv Snooteliicore, Moncrovia proper. I also seek a friend, my troth."

"I have seen none come this way, halfling or otherwise."

"None?" Rootdan bowed. "Rootdan of Apocania, Master Snooteliicore’s tracker and guide. This was the best knowledge we had of Lady Snooteliicore’s whereabouts."

"I am sorry, but I have been here most of the day – perhaps she passed by in the heretofore," Aeysla said. "How long has she gone missing?"

Snooteliicore frowned. "’Missing’ is not the word I would choose, but as for length of time, it has been the greater part of a year. My beloved, you see, was in the last year of her mortal life, taken slowly by a demon who stole her life-force for his entry into our realm. I was with Wiiws the night her body expired…" Mecnoarv choked back his tears; unease crossed Rootdan’s face and he busied himself tending the horses and collecting firewood and his tinderbox.

"What is it?"

"That night, Lady Aeysla, that night! By candleglow I saw them burst in through the window of our lodging – nine of them there were, all shadows, come at the moment of her death. They captured her spirit – I saw her against their darkness, consumed –they did not wait but seconds to surround my Wiiws on her journey to Convah, feeding on her like the carrion they are! Our lodging was destroyed – they shook the very floorboards loose! When they finished, a tenth wraith appeared and I wept a fortnight, for my betrothed now looked like every one of the others, an image of the demon whom I spoke of.

"I sought the counsel of a warlock in Bylikaegra who told me that Wiiws was one of nine with magickal blood who Xorus – Prime Wraith, he called it – sucked dry in order to effect his ingress to Terra." Mecnoarv cried freely. "Wiiws was his final victim, and when he had the last of her mortality, the others, having been once magickal Terran spirits themselves, helped make her into an echo of the demon-god that drained them in the first place for his wraith-slaves, and all resemble him as he appeared when mortal himself. With the strength he gathered from their Terran life-force, Xorus caused for his birthstone, an opal, to be found in these woods by the hermit Gargantua and I was instructed that to seek and save Wiiws, I needed to find the opaline fog in Loran forest." Mecnoarv talked faster and more desperately with each sentence; he retrieved from his saddlebag a ragged long-coat and handed it to Aeysla. "After Wiiws died, I sold my shop and all of my belongings. It took me months to find the right warlock, Elftime, who had the skills I sought and who traded me this robe for nearly all of my effects."

"What is its charm?"

She gave the robe back to Mecnoarv; he folded it with great care and returned it to the saddlebag, then asked, "Did you sense anything?"

"No, but the detection of magic other than my own is not within my grasp."

"A pity! Elftime said the robe would restore life to my beloved. I do not for a moment doubt his sincerity, but I also do not expect Wiiws to spring dancing from the leaves here, though I hoped at least to free her spirit from the demon-wraiths so that she may find her peace."

"Did Elftime tell you to place the robe around her shadow?"

"Yes! Yes he did, though I have wracked my mind as to how one puts a wrap around air. However, there must be a way, and her immortal spirit will not spend everness possessed as an image of Xorus!" Mecnoarv’s vehemence moved Aeysla, for she knew from her own experience and the tales of Val’ha and Oromasus how malicious the God of Black Magic was. "…I am here for as long as it takes me to locate these wraiths, or the stone around which they hover."

"It is not here." Mecnoarv blinked at Aeysla and she softened her tone. "The birthopal is in Moncrovia." She told Mecnoarv and Rootdan how after he had summoned Xorus, Gargantua traded the portal-stone for dominion over the nascent realm called Loran. "The realm slices through Terra at almost this spot," Aeysla concluded, "but you will find neither Gargantua, who is now a demon-god himself, nor the opal – it is at Castle Moncrovia in the hands of whom I do not know. Xorus sent his doppelganger-wraiths and the stone there in order to consolidate his power."

Mecnoarv stormed and fretted until much later, as Rootdan passed bowls of steaming fish soup from the small kettle that hung over the flames, the halfling slumped into a silence while finishing his soup, poured out the remaining contents and headed further up Lorax Stream in deep thought. Rootdan looked after him. "What you revealed about the birthstone was the truth, but one it will take him time to bear. He has come a fair journey for his love."

"It is difficult," Aeysla agreed, "and moreso since he probably left Moncrovia to find the Xoran stone about the time it arrived there. I shall offer my assistance to him, if indeed there is anything I can do."

"I am sure he will be returning to Moncrovia now. We might travel back together."

"That would be pleasant, but I did not come across the land – though I too reside in Moncrovia, my unicorn and I traveled around the kingdom in a ship." Aeysla related her encounter with Lath-vecat and how she had sought to charter the Bugbear. Though Eedebee was freed from her grey-ship prison by the death of Oromasus and the end of their curse, and had just moved in that day with Val’ha, she happened to be retrieving a few items from the vessel – a jewelbox, knitting equipment, a long-knife from her galley and a small club – in great haste and concern, almost running into Aeysla on the dock.

"Aeysla!"

"Eedebee! Where do you race off to, dear captain?"

Eedebee told her of Val’ha’s request by King Joel to meet him at the ruins of Castle Ohrt some leagues from his own palace. "It has not been an hour that she is gone, but I cannot sit here with Oromasus dead and do nothing! Val’ha forbade me from following her, but there is no harm to come from meeting with Oromasus’ assistant Lady Frippe, at least to tell her of his passing." Eedebee paused. "Why are you here, my friend?"

"I too was told of Master Oromasus’ demise." Aeysla apprised Eedebee of her dream and summons by Lath-vecat to the northwest forest.

Eedebee gazed over her shoulder at Summer. "Perhaps we can favor each other – I planned to use my wish-ring to cover the distance to Castle Moncrovia, so desperate is my intuition." They made back to the lodging and Eedebee packed her possessions into a cloth sack, threw it over her shoulder and joined Aeysla, who once more tried to located Oromasus’ realm-folding charm in her spellbook, on Summer’s back.

In stretches of a mile every minute, after which Summer paused for rest, they disappeared and reappeared along the foggy, empty royal road until Castle Moncrovia came into view, the rocks of its outer walls and towers and turrets aglow in weak opaline. For the first time in her experience, Aeysla saw no sentries or guards. "There is evil astir here." To Summer she whispered, "Come again in half an hour to this place," then patted the unicorn’s back flank; he faded into the mist.

"Do we just walk in?"

"Our only other option," Aeysla guessed, "is for you to wish yourself to the High Wizarder’s chambers and for me to use my amulet, but you might need to keep your wish-ring for now. I think we walk." They passed through the deep wall to the castle grounds, where both felt and heard the droning hum of the corrupted Song of Terra, and up the path toward the main doors. "See here, Eedebee." Though the other rosebushes kept their bounty of colors, beautiful and rich in Xorus’ pale glare, the blue roses in front of the castle doors – every blue rose – had turned opaline.

The two Women hastened to the chambers of the wizard, their footfalls echoing in the high-ceilinged hallway and still none other than they and markers of the demon-god – walls emanating his bluish-white, wide vases of dying opaline roses atop pedestals, and the drone distorted against the corridor white-stone.

When they reached a meeting room several doors shy of Oromasus’ chambers, Aeysla smelled a sweet pungency and stopped Eedebee. They peered inside: tapestries of royals gone before hung below high, dark keyhole windows; a long table was surrounded by a dozen scattered highback chairs; and four bronze goblets were knocked over, their liquid spilled on the table. Aeysla bent toward the amber drink, the source of the attractive aroma, and saw an arm stretched across the floor on the other side of the table where two chairs had been pushed back. She bent to look underneath.

Two bodies lay crumpled against each other, a Man and a Woman. Panicked and frightened more than ever, Aeysla enlisted Eedebee in pulling the two people out and resting them against the chairs. "Lady Frippe!" Eedebee cried.

"And High Advisor Arpon-Altraine, King Joel’s counsel." Aeysla’s heart sank, for not only did she mourn the loss of any person of goodwill, but Lady Frippe and Arpon-Altraine she admired and cared for.

"Lady Frippe…" Panting, Eedebee almost fell over and had to sit, so exhausted she suddenly appeared.

Two pair of armored footsteps pounded up the hallway; Aeysla grabbed Eedebee and drew her under the table when she recognized Prince Joel’s voice. "…the Baron in the conspirator Thoryn’s dungeon! I knew since childhood that my cousins the Val Tresses were vainglorious and wishful to reclaim their place in songs of renown that have forgotten them, but little did I know his troth was involved!"

"It was good that you did not tell the Baroness of his detention," the other Man said. "It may be to our advantage."

"As clever as my fable to the three criminals that my parents told me they were meeting her, Tarl-Cabot and that bothersome she-Elf at Ohrt’s gate?" The two Men laughed, sending chills up Aeysla’s back. "Zini, my dear High Advisor, as duplicitous as we were – and do not get me wrong, I am glad we were spying on my mother and father or we would not have known of their meeting with the assassins – it is nothing compared to Val’ha and her pack of rats!"

The two Men stopped in the hallway just outside the meeting room door, and Aeysla was afraid their silence meant she and Eedebee were somehow detected. But High Advisor Zini continued the conversation. "When King Joel’s knights return from scouring Moncrovia shortly for the killers and that ship’s captain Eedebee, I will have them move the bodies in this room to Blue Rose Hall."

"No," Prince Joel said. "I do not want to have the wizard’s errand-girl and Altraine sullying the throne – I never cared for the Altraines or the Frippes. Bad enough that now we shall need to prepare a funeral grand enough to impress whatever stragglers still live in the Royal City. I have much to do as next King – telling my family, preparing for Thoryn and Eedebee’s trial and penalty and finding the butchers. Come, let us investigate the wizard’s chambers – he is probably dead too by now with the day’s passing, and we must start quickly to contact the Sages. I will need their blessing and a communing wizard for my own before I can ascend the throne." Their steps retreated into the distance.

"I know what I must do." Eedebee placed her wish-ring around her finger. "The wish will work only once, and for only one person, and only to allow for him to realm-fold."

"Eedebee…"

"I wish for Sir Thoryn – begone from the Moncrovian dungeon and find your way to sword and mount." The band glowed silver for a bright second before it popped out of existence.

"Eedebee!"

"Eedebee!" Aeysla was stunned when she heard Prince Joel’s voice back at their door; the two Men burst into the room. "Where is the killer? Where are you!" The Prince and Zini pushed chairs rapidly aside, paused when they saw the rearranged bodies, and then…"You! Under the table! You!"

Eedebee and Aeysla scurried to the other side. "I am so sorry, Aeysla." With that, Eedebee moved from underneath the table and stood with her long-knife in brandishment. "I am Eedebee, captain of the Bugbear, and neither I nor any of those you mentioned is guilty of your accusations!"

"Get her!"