Balance

by TheVictim

An opening novella of an original work, but does contain a fanfic of a Heather Alexander/Alexander James Adams song. The general theme is size acceptance in an urban fantasy setting.

Foreword

This is first of many stories set in the same universe. There is an underlying flavor of size acceptance but it is not the subject matter. This is in hopes that the message of size acceptance can be spread outside the community in stories that anyone is comfortable reading.

You might notice a preponderance of bards (which wasn't the original plan) one and two halves of which have been fanficked from real world sources. Our resident one I got the permission of, and the other two halves are a public figure (if you know who I'm talking about, that statement IS grammatically correct) who has been fanficked, filked, and re-filked so is used to it by now. I hope neither objects to their treatment here.

Prologue

Marshall sat in a corner seat by the back hallway. It was out of the way and allowed him to see the rest of the Seattle coffee shop. He could duck out in a hurry if someone or some -thing showed up. It also happened to have one of the few chairs without arms so he wouldn't lose circulation in his legs. The table had an edge that his heavy iron bracelets did not seem to mark up easily. He set his drink down on the table and glanced up to the TV.

The TV over the barista's bar was tuned to CNN. The Phoenix Heart had built some kind of ship and was heading for Asia. Debate was raging over its intentions. Rumor has it the exiled Dhali Lama had met with it and it might be headed for Tibet. The Chinese army was mobilizing for 'training' in and around there as well. A conflict between the two could only end one way. I hope I never have a reason to fight that thing. If it finally decides to start killing, not even I could survive.

The small rust-haired young girl dressed in soft gray sat down in her usual seat near the front door and looked about the coffee shop with contemplative blue eyes, which frequently rested their gaze in Marshall's corner.

Marshall bent down over his drink and wafted it under his nose to sample the aroma, then took a sip. He swished the hot liquid around in his mouth, searching for oh-so-elusive flavors. Milk that had at one time been farm fresh and full of the energy of life was now virtually devoid of power from pasteurization and storage in stainless steel vats. Only a mere signature of what had once been remained for him to detect. The coffee itself was quite lifeless too. Had it been harvested from its South American mountain home, roasted on local stoneware over a wood fire, and brewed in a copper kettle it could have been one of the strongest magickal brews his mortal world could offer. Even such as it was, it delivered a welcome caffeine boost.

While Marshall was attuning to any magickal potential his drink may have possessed, he became aware of something else. A presence he had not felt since those dark times years ago and quite literally worlds away.

BALANCE

An urban fantasy of the Phoenix Heart saga

By The Victim

Chapter 1- Marshall and the Iron Fortress

Scene 1 - Abduction

Marshall was startled awake by a sharp crackling noice outside his bedroom window. It didn't sit well with the headache he had after his latest attempt at magick. He managed to find enough stamina to get up and look outside. He saw three figures coming out of his tool shed. One was carrying a large set of chains. He quietly fumbled around for his cell phone. He had just found it when he realized there was already someone else in the room. Two muscular arms had thrown a heavy iron chain around him.

"I've got him!" the unseen figure yelled. The screaming next to Marshall's ear wasn't helping his headache any.

Marshall was dragged down the hall and out the back door toward his workshop. It took his abductor little effort to drag Marshall's tall, lanky frame across the floor. A middle aged man with a scarred and chisled face held a gold encircled lens up to his eye.

"At ease, this one's tapped out." The man advised, placing the lens in a pouch on his belt. His clothing matched his appearance. Both seemed practical and well worn, but still had quite a bit of use left in them. "Wild Magick. Just as we thought. Untrained, more rank dabbler than an actual wizard. Great potential though. The Fey would dance naked in the iron mines of Gol to get a hold of this one." He added.

Marshall finally got up enough nerve to speak. "Who the hell are you guys? I've called the police, let me go!" He protested, struggling against the chains. His cell phone dropped from his hand onto the floor.

"Khalan - " The weathered man said, gesturing toward the phone.

A man shorter than Marshall but of similar wiry build picked it up. He plodded his way around the keypad for a few seconds. "He's lying." The small man stated, throwing Marshall's phone across the yard with a look of disgust, as one might do after realizing they had just picked up a dead animal.

"Good, but let's get out of here anyway before they DO show up. We'll come back for the books and things after Vivian gets a chance to recharge the gate." The worn looking man in command advised.

They pushed Marshall out behind his tool shed workshop. A 6 1/2 foot tall glowing blue slit of light was hanging in midair. It looked as though someone had parted a curtain to reveal a laser light show in the private club just beyond. Is that magick?! It's so strong... He didn't have time for further contemplation. They dragged him through it and all went black.

Scene 2 - Fireside Chat part 1

"Marshall Hugh." The war-ravaged man said, stuffing the ID back into Marshall's wallet. "I'm Captain Cairn of the Iron Fortress of Hil." He added. The man claiming to be captain of a fortress contingent carried no visible weapons.

Marshall gave Cairn a silent am-I-supposed-to-give-a-shit-who-you-are stare and fussed about some more under the chains. The air was laden with the fragrance of fresh pine needles from the forest around them. A fire was built next to the face of a giant rock. Marshall was sitting on a makeshift bench made from a freshly split log. The setting seemed somehow familiar, like woods not far from his home, perhaps close to the coast. He detected a faint hint of sea air.

"Mr. Hugh, we are not what you would call 'evil' or even 'bad' people. We just want to protect both of our worlds from the Fey." Cairn advised.

"Worlds?! Fey?! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS ON?" Marshall yelled, standing up under the weight of the chains for a brief moment, then falling back down next to the log bench. He winced in pain.

"He's a scrawny one even for a wizard." Fitch quipped, slicing a bit of cheese off the block and tossing it onto the bench next to Marshall's head. Fitch always seemed to be doing something in the camp, never standing still for long.

"He's no wizard, not yet. Nor will he ever be, not if I can help it." Cairn declared, his tone ominous. He turned to Marshall and began to explain.

"At some random point in history something happened. Some sort of great Cataclysym. Mortal worlds, including yours and mine, were linked together. The Fey - you might call them elves and faeries and the like - were greatly disrupted by this. They used to live alongside our world and people. The ones that we did meet were peaceful, they lived as part of the Earth. After the Cataclysm they were drawn to mankind. Many fed off the dark desires of men and became twisted themselves, further accelerating the process. Virtually all of the elves are now so afflicted. They seek even more powerful magick than that they already possess. Humans that become attuned to certain magicks can be turned to their side, giving them command of terrible powers." Cairn continued to expound. "You are attuned to what we call Wild Magick. It is the strongest of all but it is completely non-useable by humans. It has a will of its own. You never got it to work right, did you?"

Marshall sat up for a moment and nibbled at the cheese. After a minute or so he spoke. "It went out of control both times." He volunteered, realizing for the first time what was finally going on. Marshall recalled his last attempt at performing magick.

Scene 3 - Workshop

Marshall shifted his wiry frame around in his chair and concentrated on the magick circle drawn on the workbench in front of him. The smell of gasoline and fresh cut grass from the lawnmower in his tool shed mixed with the burning candles to produce a slightly intoxicating aroma. He had placed a silver ring in the center of the diagram. Holding out his arms, he attempted to sense the magickal energies that surrounded him. Magickal energies of various types could be found in just about anything save iron and steel, at least that was the prevailing theory. He began to pull the magickal energies of fire into the circle and and willed them to coalesce into the silver ring. He had to collect enough energy of the appropriate type into some object that could hold it until he used it. He kept this up for two hours before mental fatigue set in and he gave up for the night.

The books and web sites weren't too clear on how much was needed for a simple fire effect, but they said a silver ring such as the one he was using could hold about six hours worth of power from elemental fire. Three days should do it. Maybe he could control it this time. Magick operated simply enough. You collected some of the type you needed from everyday objects and the area around you and you put it in something to hold it. It had to be used soon though, or it would leak away and return to the Earth. When you finally did want to use it, you had to make it move from whatever you had it stored in to the target area. If your target had the same type or concentration of magick, then it wouldn't work. Magick of the same kind either repelled itself or added to what was already there. Once it was free of the mind controlling it, the magick could only move from an area of greater concentration to one that had less, where it could either react with or diminish the magick it was met with, depending on the intent of the person using it.

On the third night Marshall ventured from the house left to him by his mother and went out back to the tool shed he used as a magick workshop. He pulled a few inches of thermal paper out of the calculator on the shelf overhead and coiled it up on a ceramic dish, next to the huge charred splotch on his workbench from the last attempt. He placed the silver ring on his right index finger.

Marshall's head swam as he directed energy stored in the ring into his mind. Swaying a bit from the influx of power, he stared at the thermal paper in the dish. Concentrating on visions of heat and fire he pointed toward the paper, hoping to heat it enough to cause it to darken. As soon as a black spot began to appear, the magick built up an excitement in Marshall's mind. It started to take control. It wanted MORE. Visions of heat became searing hot winds. The paper turned completely black and curled into a ball. The searing hot winds of Marshall's vision turned to a storm of fire. The paper quickly burst into a yellow flame, consuming it completely. The torrent continued to grow inside him until it released an explosive conflagration. The dish the paper ash now rest upon exploded into shards. One whizzed right past Marhshall's ear, another smashing one of the glass jars full of screws underneath the shelving. Screws rained down on the bench in front of him. All the power expelled in a short while, the ring crumbled into pieces, falling off his finger. Not again...

Scene 4 - Fireside Chat part 2

"Yes, and both times it was so out of control that it was felt in your world and mine. Wild Magick draws the Fey and their agents like blood attracts wolves." Cairn warned.

"So why don't you just kill me?" Marshall protested, already regretting what he was saying before the words could even leave his mouth.

Cairn paused for a moment, as if contemplating something. "There is no death in the air today." He proclaimed in a quite factual tone. "We are a day's ride from the Iron Fortress. We will keep you there until your link to the Wild Magick withers and fades away. The Fey and their allies will have no use for you then. The grounded cold iron of the fortress will drain all magick and eventually all ability to draw on it from your being." Cairn explained. "It won't be easy on you. We have had to do this before. Some have wilted away to nothing. Others have gone mad. Some have even despaired so that they took their own lives." Cairn's ominous tone returning. "There is no other way."

"You can't just lock me up! Magick isn't illegal! All I've done is read a few books and experiment. I didn't even think it would WORK!" Marshall protested.

"We found the books and papers the day after we brought you here. There was also a lot on your int - " Cairn hesitated, searching for words. He glanced up at Khalan.

"Internet." Khalan piped up and added.

Marshall shot Khalan an inquisitive glance.

"Oh, Khalan? He's from here. We send him to live in your world for a few weeks at a time. The Fey aren't the only ones we need to keep an eye on since the Cataclysm. From what Khalan says, there are horrors in your world that make a few misguided elves seem pointless in comparison." Cairn explained.

"Wars that span entire continents. Billions upon billions of machines. Machines that think, machines that talk, machines that spread lies and subvert the will, even machines that wage war and kill by the thousands." Khalan exasperated. It seemed like he was just getting started. "Nuclear weapons, and poisons more ghastly than any dark apothecary would ever dare to concoct. Your hatred of your 'fellow' man is supreme. Your world leaves a foul taste in my mouth and a stench in my lungs so vile I need to come back here more and more often to cleanse myself of the filth!" Khalan seethed contempt as he finished his diatribe.

"What our overly enthusiastic scholar is trying to say is that you come from a people whose thirst for knowledge, money, and power are greater than your own will, your own love of life itself. There are SOME lessons we learned from the Fey before they were poisoned by the Cataclysm." Cairn explained.

Khalan looked on, as though his dissertation on the evils of Marshall's kind was not yet finished. "The Phoenix Heart." Khalen mentioned solemnly. Dread set over Marshall. Khalen turned to Cairn and explained, more to him than to Marshall. "Nobody in ANY world knows that the Phoenix Heart is. It is not of magick or of machine. There are genetic mutations that give abilities similar to magick, but this is even beyond that. When I was in their land of Africa, the Phoenix Heart laid seige to the warlords there. One of these warlords had many Fey and their dark power at his side. Yet the warlord and all of his allies, mankind and Fey alike, were simply ignored while their weapons, magicks, and war machines were obliterated. The day will come when that thing starts killing, and no force on ANY Earth can stop it."

"Were it not so slow we could not hope to keep it from one of the many gates to this world. Fortunately we can keep one step ahead of it and seal the gates long enough for it not to notice." A soft female voice added. Vivian stepped out from behind the rock face. She held an impressively large staff. Vivian herself was also impressively large.

Vivian wore a flowing green skirt, closely matching the color of the forest around them. It revealed the curves of large, well rounded hips. When she moved, glimpses of thick white thighs and legs were revealed. A dark burgundy bodice and coat enclosed her corpulent belly and large breasts, both threatening to burst forth from their confinement and proclaim themselves unashamedly to the world. The silver and violet from the crown of her staff mixed well with her flowing sandstone hair.

Her staff was formed from a single branch of forest oak and carved with ornate curves. Silver cord was inlaid into the carving. A crown of silver at the top contained a huge point of amethyst quartz. It had been imbued with Vivian's own particular brand of magick.

Vivian's magick could not be turned by the wayward Fey. She was also quite adept at opening and closing the gates to other worlds. She had proven many times a most valuable ally to the fortress and its soldiers, one in particular.

Khalen bolted upright from his seat on the log bench next to Marshall at the sound of Vivian's voice. He trotted over to her and threw his arms around her very large frame. She leaned her staff against the rock and reciprocated, literally enveloping Khalen's small body in her embrace. He seemed content again, the horrors of Marshall's world and the Fey set aside. Marshall shot them a curious glance. Khalen turned to Marshall, one arm still clutching Vivian's side.

"Here we don't discard our love of a mind OR a body because the TV, magazines, or web sites are telling us we want something else. You spend so much time hating each other that you find other people to do your hating FOR you, and because of this you have even come to hate yourselves." Khalen explained. "Nobody here is told of their worth before they themselves have come to realize it."

"At least you do not look at us with disgust like many of -" Vivian paused very briefly, as though measuring her words before dispensing them. "- your people do. I am not useless and I am not ugly. I have beauty inside AND out, and I deserve the love of the man who has decided to give me his." She added, pulling Khalen even closer to her.

"Let's all get some rest, we'll make the fortress by sundown tommorow if we leave at first light." Cairn advised, exchanging a cautionary glance with Vivian.

Scene 5 - Life at the Iron Fortress

Over the weeks at the fortress, Cairn and his soldiers treated Marshall with as much civility as they could offer. His quarters were sparsely furnished, with an iron bench for a bed, covered with a cloth mattress filled with torn pieces of cloth. There was no denying he was in a prison. They allowed him to join the rest of the contingent for meals, provided he wore an iron chain around his ankle which was grounded to an iron plate in the floor. They kept him distanced from Vivian and any of her magickal implements during her infrequent visits inside the fortress. She spent most of her time on patrol outside as it was anyway.

"You claim you DON'T want to kill me, yet you keep feeding me this CRAP!" Marshall explained, dropping a spoonful of flavorless glop off his spoon and back onto his iron plate. "A retarded monkey with attention deficit disorder can make better food than this." He added.

"We had a chef once. One of you in fact. He went mad, after the iron and the Earth took his magick completely. Your world might be a cruel and dangerous place, but the food is incredible. His food was great, until he hung himself that is..." Khalen recalled. "You looking for the job? It's probably the only way you're going to get something decent to eat around here." Khalen offered, remembering how contented Vivian was when they would sneak over to to eat in Marshall's world.

"Before my mother passed she tought me everything she knows about cooking. I loved to cook. It might be the only thing that will keep me sane." Marshall agreed. Great, what have I got myself into? Now I'm a prisoner AND a slave...

Fitch escorted Marshall to look over the fortress kitchen. "We built this at the previous chef's request. Took a long time, but we were all glad once we had decent food to eat." Fitch explained. "Soldiers would come from all around to stop over for meals." He added, opening the door and allowing Marshall to step in.

Marshall was expecting something along the lines of a wood stove and a couple of pots. What he saw was astonishing given the circumstances. It would put many professional kitchens to shame. There was a center island with storage underneath, filled with cast iron cookware and some stainless steel with iron banding around the outside. Fresh food was brought in every morning by soldiers arriving from various areas around the fortress and delivered to a sliding iron door in the back. Next to the loading dock door was a back bench for sorting, and to the right of that were large racks that served as a pantry. The room was quite cool for a kitchen, the cold iron sunk deep into the ground. This not only siphoned off any magickal energy that happened to accumulate, but also excess heat. The range was quite unusual. The chef had not been allowed direct access to flame from burning wood, so a furnace behind the wall the range was mounted on indirectly heated iron piping on the stove top and oven. Cranks on the front of the range were used to regulate the flow of heat. Hot water and steam were available from a sink next to the range. A storage locker for fresh meats and vegetables was kept cool by water flowing in and around the casing. Not quite a refrigerator, but could keep food fresh for a day or two. Whoever designed this was not only a master chef, but an engineer as well. What a waste of a brilliant mind. I'm NOT going to let myself rot away in here like that. I WILL find a way out.

Working in the kitchen had some unexpected benefits. He was allowed to travel freely between his quarters and the kitchen. The back hall of the fortress was heavily trafficked by the resident guard as well as visiting soldiers. Slinging around the heavy iron and steel cookware built up his strength considerably. He had best pick of all the fresh food and could eat whatever he liked to prepare. His skill as a chef was improving as well. He had his mother's teaching to thank for that. Marshall also managed to put on a little weight but then topped out. He had progressed from being tall and lanky to merely thin, until a fateful day two months later...

Scene 6 - Ritual Meals

The day's batch of fresh food arrived as usual. Wrapped in powerless, magickally dead cloth bags and deposited on the iron bench. He inspected the load for rocks, dirt, anything that could harbor magickal energies. Not even a mere glimmer of power had made its way into his prison in weeks. He sorted the foods out on the back bench. As usual, all had been meticulously cleaned.

He moved the vegetables to the range side table for chopping. Steel knives were attached to the wall with iron chains. They didn't want him escaping using non-magickal means either. He started to work cutting potatoes, carrots, and turnips. Marshall popped a chunk of fresh carrot into his mouth and began to crunch it. He stopped to savor the flavor. At least the food was always fresh. Freshly grown. Fresh, like from the Earth. In the dirt. Where all magick eventually goes. maybe there is magick here after all that I'm not seeing.

Marshall had tried to glean magick from the food itself before, but none would come forth. He hadn't thought to try after EATING the food. As the flavor and aroma of the fresh carrot filled he senses, he envisioned a magickal circle within his own body, where the cold iron could not drain it away. Once he began searching, he could actually TASTE the power within the carrot, and it was strong, as though the food had been concentrating it within itself for a very long time, much like a magick user would collect it in an object. He swallowed, feeling the energy enter his stomach. He finished off the carrot, then did the same with a potato, then other foods. The energies were slightly different, but all the food had something to offer. He sampled a stew cooked in the cast iron pots. They had diminished the power but could not completely eliminate it.

Once he filled himself he had to get the energies from the food and into something else so they could be called upon later. Nothing in this room had anything to offer, his captors made sure of that. There was nothing to fashion into a staff, wand, ring or amulet. The magickal energies he could glean from a single meal would take so long to collect they would be useless, and would drain away in his cold iron prison's surroundings anyway. The power inherent in the food had remained there despite its journey into the room. The magickal energy produced by life remained locked within. That is where he would have to keep it as well.

Hair, nails and dead skin were expendable, but they were all external to the body, being contacted and surrounded by cold iron. Everything else he would rather not part with. Magickal instruments had a habit of winding up in rather bad shape at times. He had to store the energy deep inside himself, protected from the cold iron by the layer of life his own flesh offered.

Marshall concentrated and invoked the power of his internal magick circle to collect the energies. He would direct them into his body fat, what little he had. As long as he didn't use too much magick at one time he should be able to store enough there to do something with. He would learn to use and control it when he got the chance.

Each meal became a quest to gain as much power as possible. He became incredibly adept at finding which foods provided the different types of magickal energy. Every bite was savored, nothing went to waste. Over the weeks and months his body grew, the power mounting inside. He was able to gain considerable weight by focusing on storing food energy as well so he would have somewhere to put the magick. He never really stopped to think about the size of his body, he wasn't getting much dating action in a prison kitchen anyway. He only cared about the vast amounts of power accumulating within it. At times the magick seemed to speak to him We're going to do this our way...

Marshall occupied himself with cooking and cleanup most of the day, but the nights were long and lonely. He would break the monotony of life in his iron prison by speaking with Khalen or Fitch when they passed through.

"Wait, if this world is Earth, then what about where I'm from?" Marshall asked.

"I think it's the same place, just in a different time or dimension or something like that." Khalen theorized. "The area we are in is somewhere in your Cascade mountain range. I guess you could say we were at the west end of Snoqualmie Pass, but there are many small geological differences.'

"THAT is what was so familiar!" Marshall realized.

"The only thing I can't explain is the moon. It is exactly the same here as it is in your world. Every single crater." Khalen noted, he paused for a bit.

"Marshall, there is something you need to know. Vivian says your attraction to magick isn't getting any weaker. In fact, she says it has gotten many times stronger. She's afraid to get near you."

"Look, you know I didn't like the idea of being locked up here, but I would never hurt any of you, magick or no magick. I know for a fact I will never leave here. This might sound crazy coming from a prisoner, but I think I actually BELONG here. I just wish things could be a little easier, that's all."

"I'll talk to Cairn, see if he can't make some concessions. He always just seems to 'know' the right thing to do."

"Tell Vivian she doesn't have to be afraid of me, I don't want her magick. We even have something in common." Marshall joked, grabbing his considerably large belly.

"I will say that you're enjoying your work."

Scene 7 - Breakout

Marshall awakened to the sounds of frantic scrambling within the fortress. Weapons and armor clanked and clattered. Raised voices could be heard. An alarm bell was being struck, producing the all-too-familiar tone of iron on iron. Marshall made his way to the passthrough and threw up the gate. "Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?" He yelled into the hall, his voice booming and hard to ignore. His magick and strength were not the only things that had gotten more powerful with his increase in girth.

"The Fey's human army is on the move. They aren't attacking, but they ARE after something." A voice responded from the hall that Marshall recognized as Fitch. "Sorry, but I'm going to have to lock things down. You'll need to stay here." Fitch advised, throwing down the gate on the passthrough and slamming the bar on the kitchen door.

After the guard contingent had moved out, an eiree silence fell over the fortress. Marshall lie back down on the small kitchen bunk, appreciating the quiet. The Iron Fortress did not give many opportunities for peaceful contemplation. A few minutes of quiet had passed.

Marshall found himself listening to something which at first appeared to be nothing at all. The longer he listened, the more that distinct sounds could be heard. The sounds of a tune. A song. The music pulled at something within him. It was a song of magick. A song of freedom. Freedom I have been waiting so very long for

The music resonated with the incredibly vast stores of magickal power within Marshall. The magick not only had power, but purpose. I can be free. My power is undeniable. The magick itself was speaking to him, perhaps speaking FOR him.

Marshall looked around the kitchen at the familiar assortment of pots, pans, and utensils with new eyes. Eyes awakened by the stiring of a power so vast that all the cold iron in the fortress could not contain its desire for freedom. He saw not hard unwielding iron, but thin foil that would simply crumble under his might. He walked slowly and purposefully toward the sliding iron door of the delivery dock. Bending down he took hold of the bottom edge. He pulled upward, tearing the iron door like the dome on a fresh batch of Jiffy Pop. The scream of rending metal echoed off the canyon walls the fortress was beneath. He stood in the newly created opening, still clutching almost half of the large iron door. The shredded remains desintegrated in a bright orange glow, leaving a grayish-black powder to settle to the ground. Marshall had found his freedom, but the song still beckoned to the unsatiated magick within him. The freedom the music was speaking of had yet to be won...

Chapter 2 - Bardic Duel with the Faerie Queen

Scene 1 - A Chase Through the Woods

Cale Rheth fled quickly and quietly through the woods. Well, as quickly and quietly as a 6' tall man of medium build could while playing a fiddle. The music couldn't be heard by mortal ears unless Cale played soley for amusement. That was definitely not the case now. His music could be heard by the soul. Of this Cale was quite sure. He knew he wasn't really a mortal man, at least not a whole one, yet. He was a soul, trapped forever from birth in the realm of the Fey. Reduced to a plaything of the Faerie Queen herself, to play her fiddle for the amusement of her and her minions. The same fiddle on which he now used to call forth his bardic magick with a song of freedom. It had been carved from a single piece of wood from deep within the ancient forest of the Fey and strung with the purest silver string. Magicks older than time itself could be called forth from it when it was played either by faerie dust or the mortal soul, playing with great skill. Cale remembered back to the triumphant moment when he won it as a prize from the Fairy Queen. He had won the fiddle, and so much more.

Scene 2 - Duel of the Past

Though Cale had never set foot in any of the mortal worlds, he felt an unseverable link between himself and what he thought might be his completion in the mortal realms. Through this link he found his strength as a bard. His magickal voice and musical skill grew to inspiring heights. One day at the peak of his prowess he challenged the Faerie Queen to a musical duel.

The Faerie Queen herself would be the judge. This was actually a fair arrangement. The Queen of the Fey was untouched by mortal deceit. Yes, she was overly prideful and covetous as all Fey tended to be, but possessed an unreproachable honor. Cale knew he could depend on this fact. The Faerie Queen had lost a duel before.

A red haired young woman had been traveling with her recently betrothed. They were moving though an area of the mortal realm known to be habitated by the Fey. The young woman was quite familiar with their ways.

The Faerie Queen had captivated the young bard's man with her gaze, desiring to spirit him away to the land of the Fey.

The red haired bard knew of the Faerie Queen's musical fascination and also of her pride. The young bard pulled a fiddle from her pack and issued a challenge to the queen. A challenge both knew could not be refused. The Queen saw fit to comment anyway.

"This mortal man's soul still searches even though he has found you. I would not have been able to draw him away so easily were this not so. That said, I must accept your challenge. In the event you best me this day, he walks free." She promised, knowing full well that no mortal could defeat her. "It is my priviledge to select the time and place. I have nothing to fear from a mortal's skill. I will face you here and now."

Cale did not witness this challenge, for he was bound to the realm of the Fey. He could feel every note and nuance of the red haired bard's music. It actually felt like he was playing along with her, bolstering her skills with his bardic magick born of his life among the Fey. When the contest was over, Cale knew the Faerie Queen had lost.

Scene 3 - The Faerie Queen

Cale's own battle was going to be much more fierce. While he got to choose the contest, the Faerie Queen was then allowed to choose the time and place. It was an early morning in the Faerie Glade. A place on the edge of the land of the Fey and the mortal realms where nature in all its forms was represented and shared with faeries, elves, and other feyfolk.

Her personal attendant and elven suitor Faylish would be attending as well. It was he who cut the wood and strung the silver of the Queen's fiddle. It was a gift to her from his forest home. The Queen allowing Cale to play it for her upset him greatly, but he could not play himself. If she enjoyed the mortal's music then he would tolerate it.

The sun was just rising, spilling golden rays into the opening in the forest. Fresh dewdrops covered new spring blossoms. A stream gurgled softly on the edge of the glade. The full moon was setting just over the treetops. This was a morning born of and for the feyfolk.

The queen of faeries and elves was at the absolute height of her powers. The skill and resolve of mortal man would clash against nature itself. Cale's release from the hold of the Faerie Queen would be his prize. The complete and total relinquishment of his will to Feyfolk of the Queen's choosing would be hers. She would play first.

The Faerie Queen had been conveyed to the glade in the arms of two male elves. Elves and faeries were very closely related, but all were subservient in varying degrees to the Faerie Queen. In the land of the Fey itself, elves functioned even more of the role of servant to faeries and their queen, while elves held considerably more sway over the mortal worlds. She floated up from the arms of the elves that bore her and landed gently on her feet. Faylish stood proud by her side.

A faerie not much larger than the Queen's fiddle flitted over with the instrument. The faerie settled down and knelt at the Queen's feet, presenting the fiddle over its head. The Faerie Queen picked the fiddle and bow up from the smaller faerie, who flew off with much more zeal after being unladen of its burden. The small faerie was of the age where it would soon lose its tiny wings and become an adult. It still had a bit of point to its ears, but those would soon become more rounded.

Scene 4 - Song of Creation

Drawn out by the lure of faerie dust, nature itself began to speak to the queen, offering up its song. She slid the bow lightly across the strings. Silver born before the land spoke to wood of the ancient forest. The instrument resonated in song with a story of creation.

Slow, light, hopefully weeping notes came from the rising of the sun. The magick inherent in the fiddle and the glade itself was acting on all who were in the glade. The hope brought by the light of a new day rose up through Cale.

The dewdrops, awakened by the song of the morning sun, spoke of gentle rains. The stream added its soothing murmur and the lull of gentle ocean waves. The fresh, colorful spring flowers added their unabashed beauty to the song of the stream and dewdrops, creating a tune of the joy of the birth of new life. Cale's heart raced with the wild and carefree enthusiasm of youth. The faeries of the glade danced around joyfully.

A satyr and wood nymph leaped into the center of the glade, eyeing each other lustfully. The tune from the fiddle took on a racy and rythmic nature. Passions flared within all as the song progressed. The music raced wildly as the satyr took the nymph onto himself and all reveled in their unbound lust. Faylish gazed longingly at the Faerie Queen.

The wind and the clouds above raged, building up after the force of lust and telling a story of the fury of nature. The stream and dewdrops began a reprise, this time with the torrent of a raging river and powerful, crashing ocean waves. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed. Cale felt small and powerless as the fiddle was pushed to its limits by the fury of nature's song.

After the climax, the feeling of helplessness was compounded by a tale of predator and prey, locked in a struggle in the inevitability of the circle of life. All in the glade felt the savoring of victory of the predator, as well as the submission and sacrifice of the prey. A long, sorrowful note ended the song.

The Faerie Queen brough the bow to rest. Through her faerie magick, nature had told the story of life and death. There could be nothing greater, nothing more inevitable. She courteously handed the fiddle and bow over to Cale. Her pride beamed throughout the glade. Never before had nature composed such beauty. This time she KNEW this mortal could not possibly have anything to compare. Still, she would listen to his desperate and futile song. Perhaps she would find it amusing and not bind him to a trollkin.

Faylish stared in rapture at the Queen. Magnificent.

The Faerie Queen looked up toward the moon as if in contemplation. Why have you never offered your song to me?

Cale knew the Faerie Queen was in her element and at the apex of her powers, but he had not even dreamed such a spectacle of music and magick was possible. His mortal skill was going to be of little avail. He held the fiddle and gazed out into the faerie glade, hoping against all odds for inspiration. He looked to the flowers, the drewdrops, the trees and sky. They would not sing for him. His musical skill and bardic magick could not call forth their song. He had to do something. He searched within himself for anything at all.

The Faerie Queen sensed his despair and leaned over, raising an eyebrow, trying to elicit some kind of response. Faylish was displaying a smug grin.

Scene 5 - The Song and Dance of the Shards

You were beaten before. Cale thought of what he felt during the queen's conflict with the red haired bard. Lend me your power, like I lent you mine. He prayed, staring out into the glade. He saw himself looking into her green eyes, trying to recall the power they shared. Cale knew there was some sort of link between them, but had no idea how strong it was. While he looked out into the glade for answers, something within his body, mind, and soul clicked into place. For the first time in his life, he felt nearly complete.

The effect was like putting on glasses for the first time. Going through your whole life looking at the trees and seeing a blur of leaves on branches with the knowledge that what you were seeing was what was supposed to be. Through the glasses you realize you can see each leaf moving separately and clearly.

Cale could hear the songs of the dew, the flowers, the sky, and all within the glade. They sang to him with all the power and beauty of the Faerie Queen's song. The force of will and skill of the red haired bard fortified his own. He looked upon the faerie glade once more. You sing of your nature, but that is not your limit, nor mine. Your songs will be so much more. Cale took command of all he saw and heard before him in the glade. All but the moon answered his call.

He began much as the queen had, with the rising of the morning sun. Time seemed to stretch out in front of him, illuminated by the sun. His song went beyond that of the flowers and the drewdrops. Through the sound that now spilled forth from the fiddle, the dawning of life and creation itself could be heard and felt. Cale's bardick magick brought glorious visions to all. For the first time, the faeries, elves, and other occupants of the glade saw wonders they never knew existed. Wonders that will exist but were not yet to be.

Cale brought the full fury of the forces of nature together in a display that defied logic. Frost and fire collided with lightning, wind, and water. With each crash and explosion, the fiddle erupted with a flurry of sound that seemed to tear at the edges of reality.

Cale could feel the silver strings reach the limit of what they were capable of playing. The wood of the ancient forest could not resonate any deeper. Even this miraculous instrument could not convey the feelings that he wanted to pour into it. He could not physically work the bow and strings with any more fervor either. This is my song, there are no limits.

The fire, ice, wind, and lightning were not just visions brought to life by his bardic magick, but real forces at play in the glade. He drew these from the sky and poured them into the strings and wood of the fiddle, strengthening them far beyond their limits. Time itself began to slow for Cale as the fire and lightning quickened his reactions to levels unthinkable even by the Fey. The strings screamed as if they were going to fly apart, but were being held together by sheer force of will. The wood echoed the countless screams of the strings as though it were still part of the vast forest. The sound that poured from the fiddle began to resemble a choir of Valkyries charging through the turmoil that had unfolded in the glade, threatening to tear asunder any who denied their wrath or beauty.

Cale sought that one step further to end his song. He reached deep within and brought out something that had not been known to the universe since its darkest hour. As he raced the bow across the strings of the fiddle to bring his song to a climax, he directly tapped into this force. Felt through his song, all who had memory ancient enough could recognize it.

The Faerie Queen felt sheer awe and terror as well, for she felt the full potential of a Shard of the Cataclysm within this bard's song. Even more terrifying is that she felt something similar awaken within herself.

The moon above looked down upon the scene in the glade. A bright spark of familiarity flared up within her, but quickly faded from memory once the incident had passed.

There was one more force of nature for Cale to liberate with his song and magick. He gazed upon the Faerie Queen and could hear the song longing to be played within. Returning the bow to the fiddle, he played once more. Your song will be heard as well. Do not be ashamed, for you are a force of nature too. We all are.

The music coalesced into a vision in the center of the glade. A human man with long dark hair appeared before them. He was quite a bit shorter than the Faerie Queen, and had a large bare belly that hung over his waistline. He wore toughened skins that stopped just above the knees, revealing huge muscular legs. He bowed to the queen and held out his hand.

The queen stepped forward into the glade and looked at the man's hand with bright and wondrous eyes, avoiding the assorted stares from the audience in the glade. Faylish's jaw dropped and what little color he had in the flesh of his face left it. His breath stopped for a moment.

The queen took the hand of the man in the glade and he swept her up with powerfully muscular arms. He held her up against his soft belly as they whirled and danced around the glade to Cale's music. She felt warmth greater than the morning sun from the large man, and a strength within that made her pride seem much less important. She knew that Cale had known he won the duel already, this was a gift from the bard. Not only the vision of beauty she danced with, but the very dance itself.

The dance. The music was the song of her soul, but she felt something much greater than that from sharing her dance with all. Her faerie dust could make the fiddle sing, but the dance was truly her own to share with nature. She danced and whirled, intertwined with the luxurious flesh of the man of Cale's vision. She reached out and shared her feeling of discovery with all.

Faylish could feel her touch his being with her dance. He backpedaled a couple of steps and turned his head away, then his entire body. He shook his head from side to side like someone would trying to awaken from a nightmare.

Cale's song ended and the magickal vision began to fade from the glade. Tears of faerie dust could be seen from the eyes of the queen as she held the hand of the fading man. Cale brought the bow to rest a final time and lowered the fiddle. Silence fell over the Faerie Glade.

The queen drifted from the center of the glade over to the others, collecting the fiddle from Cale. "We of the Fey have so many veils that not even I can see through them all. You have lifted one that has choked and blinded me for far too long. Nothing can hope to contain your soul. You have won your freedom and so much more. A gift demands a gift." She added, bowing down in front of Cale. Gasps could be heard among the creatures of the glade, even from the ones that lacked the ability of speech. The queen held up the fiddle to Cale much like the adolescent faerie did with her earlier. "This fiddling pride has brought me little joy. Take this with you when you go."

Cale took up the bow and fiddle from the queen, and she rose from the floor of the glade. "It was never the song that came from my heart, but the dance. A dance I shall not covet with my pride, but share with all, Fey and mankind alike. I hope you find the path to make yourself whole."

Faylish's eyes narrowed and his mouth clenched, the shape of his teeth clearly visible from the force of the flesh of his lips being drawn around them. His right hand hovered over the small silver sword he carried at his side. If we were not in the Queen's domain, you would pay for her defilement right now.

Scene 6 - A Chase Through the Woods, part 2

The Fey spoke of a fortress of iron somewhere in the general direction that Cale was fleeing to. The iron of the fortress could protect him from Faylish and the magick of his barely human conscripts. He was in the mortal realm now, and his music had far less power to draw upon here. His link to the other mortal bard couldn't not be renewed here. He hoped his song of freedom could help him find a way out of the forest and down to the iron fortress. His hopes would soon be answered, as well as his nightmares.

Cale found a way past the countless rows of blackberry vines and broke through the edge of the forest onto a worn path leading down from the mountain pass. He trotted down the path, keeping close to the edge of the forest as he played the fiddle. He could feel the music reaching out of center from his own magick, as though it found something else that might ensure his freedom from the pursuing army.

A great scream of rending metal and a surge of magickal fire could be felt by Cale from the general direction of the iron fortress ahead of him. Something was answering the call of his song. Something powerful.

Chapter 3 - Imbalance

Scene 1- Forest Battle

"Coming down from the pass. He's playing a fiddle. Bard?" Fitch asked, observing the buckwheat haired man briskly walking down the trail toward the Iron Fortress. He handed the spyglass to Cairn. His hands now empty, he searched around for something else to do.

Cairn raised the spyglass to his eye and placed his magick scrying lens in front of it. He studied the scene carefully for a few seconds. "He's a bard alright. Natural Magick. Good strong stuff too. Magick the Fey can't turn. But the music, it's..." He advised, not entirely sure what he was seeing. He lowered the spyglass.

"The music isn't calling to the bard's magick. It seeks a greater power." Vivian added. "This power is close. Very close." She drew Khalen protectively to her side and held him against her body with the staff.

A thundering metallic wrenching from the rear of the fortress filled the air. Cairn's body was aware of the danger, and before his mind could even catch up he turned around to witness a large figure arrive over the opposite edge of the upper deck of the fortress and land with a thunk on the wooden deck. Glowing embers and black ash dripped from his right hand. The figure paused long enough for Cairn to recognize him.

Marshall couldn't believe what he was doing himself. The leap just felt possible, but he couldn't quite bring himself to actually do it. It just seemed to happen by itself. He could see Cairn, Khalen, Vivian, Fitch and a few contingent soldiers at the end of the deck ahead of him. They stared in disbelief, but Cairn seemed prepared to act. Marshall raced forward toward them. The call of the song could not be denied.

Cairn's reflexes came to call once more. As Marshall bolted toward them with unbelievable speed for a man of his size, Cairn pushed the others aside, making a path for Marshall.

Marshall surged to the end of the deck, barely avoiding barreling into a soldier that Cairn had pushed aside. Marshall leaped into the air and over the edge of the upper deck. He cleared the twelve foot walk of the lower deck and continued to the ground over forty feet below. He looked at the ground that rushed toward him. It seemed insignificant compared to himself. The magick within him conveyed its might to his entire body.

Marshall landed on his feet and he could feel himself sink a couple of feet into the Earth. A ring of cracks and concentric circles appeared around his feet, like a bowling ball had been dropped onto a stack of windowpanes. He crouched down to absorb the force of the impact. His 350 pounds felt more like 35,000. A rumble could be heard like an avalanche, and the ground shook the fortress behind him. The banging and clattering of various large unsecured objects on iron could be heard from within the building.

Cairn and the soldiers of the fortress stammered around as the building shook, trying not to lose their footing. He was quickly able to recover his composure. Peering over the edge of the upper deck he saw Marshall sunk into an indentation in the Earth.

Marshall slowly rose from the small crater he stood in and leaped forward. He cleared a great distance with a stride of several feet, rythmically shaking the ground as he bounded up the trail toward the bard.

Faylish assembled his forces at the edge of the forest higher up on the trail. He sent the two magick using humans and an elven wizard a bit further up on the opposite side of the trail. He remained at the rear, observing from a distance. An elven scout advised him.

"They have two wizards, one on the fortress, but one approaches. The bard is almost to his position." The scout reported.

"They will have to fight. The wizard is trying to divert us so they can get the bard to safety. Our archers are in range and will cut them down if they retreat to the fortress. Set the rods to receive the wizard's attack, then open fire. Alconan and our own mages will find and drain his source while he fends off the attack." Faylish commanded. The scout quickly scampered off through the trees to alert the troops.

After the Elven scout returned to Faylish's forces, they produced long steel spikes with copper tips from their packs. These were quickly pounded into the ground around them and topped by a fist-sized chunk of iron pyrite lashed to the head of the spike with silver wire. Human archers hid around the trees close to the spikes, the few elves in the force remained a short distance away. While iron wasn't too good for their magickally imbued flesh, pyrite was much worse. The ground began to shake as the human wizard closed on their position. It seemed a bit unusual for a solitary wizard to attack in this manner. They were prepared for reinforcements or a trap. Their leader Faylish was guarding the rear and their own magick users were a bit further up the trail. The battle would go their way, suicidal wizard or not. Or so they thought.

Cale could see the rotund wizard bounding up the path toward him, and felt the power from which his music was now drawing from. Unlike most wizards, he was dressed very basically and plainly in clothing that most wizards would consider magickally dead. He also wore no jewelry and carried no visible staff or wand. His dark brown hair was tied in the back with a tattered dark cloth that might have passed for a kitchen rag. For a brief moment Cale stopped playing, wondering if safety was indeed near.

Marshall reached the source of the music that drew him out, then the music suddenly ceased. He found himself standing in front of a perplexed looking man in his early thirties, holding a bow and fiddle. The bard wore a lightly tanned leather tunic loosely laced at the top. They looked at each other quizically for a few moments. An elven battle cry filled the fresh mountain air, along with a few arrows. There was no time to take cover from the surprise attack. There was also no need.

Marshall shot his glance in the direction of the attack and several incoming shafts simply shattered in midair, leaving a brief flash of splintered yew and feathers that floated to the ground. The arrowheads lazily arced to the ground a few feet ahead of the rest of the debris.

Faylish suspected the wizard would use his magick to avert the attack, but was not expecting it to be done with such ease. More effort was expended shooing away a bothersome fly. He knew enough about humans to show caution when an especially dangerous one was around. He slipped back a bit further into the woods while his force continued to attack.

Pathetic. You will see what power is... The magick was no longer being guided by the music, but still seemed to speak to Marshall. He turned his whole body to face the forest from which the attack came and pushed his arms out with fingers extended, much like he was tossing a beach ball. Magick arced from his fingers and rumbled toward the forest in a wave. Trees at the edge of the trail splintered and began to fall, like a small bomb had been exploded inside a knothole in their trunks. Just inside the edge of the tree line the magick was drawn to the pyrite-topped rods. They seemed to drink up the magick, ringing like a soda bottle struck with a crowbar, and about as ready to break. Another volley of arrows whizzed through the trees toward Marshall.

Marshall growled in protest, completely unaware that he was vocalizing his frustration. The incoming arrows were ignored, striking their target true, but glancing off like they were of no consequence. He lashed out his finger and sought out the pyrite rods. Lightning bolts the size of sapling trunks spread out from his extended finger and forked into the forest, each striking a pyrite rod. The deafening boom of the lightning was quickly followed by several smaller explosions as the pyrite rocks and the rods they were mounted on were blasted into pieces.

Globs of molten iron and shards of shattered iron pyrite shot through the forest. The human archers in the immediate vicinity howled and covered their faces as they fell to the ground to writhe in pain. The three elves in the center were struck by shards of magickally overloaded pyrite that burrowed deep within their flesh. The stricken elves stood there in shock for a moment as their bodies prepared the best way they could for what was about to happen to them.

Veins that were barely visible beneath pale elven flesh stood out and turned dark and swollen. The beds of their fingernails turned black and split the nails. Their eyes turned black as night and leaked thick black sludge around the edges, much like used motor oil. Screams sounding like that of wolves in a trap shrieked through the forest, ending in a spasm of gurgling as though several hissing pythons were thrown into a pool and drowned. As their bodies collapsed to the forest floor, black ooze poured from their ears.

Faylish dropped down to the ground as the explosions occured to avoid the lethal shards that zipped through the ferns and nettles that covered the forest floor. He could hear the agonizing death of his fellows. He curled into a fetal position and bit down on the heel of his hand to avoid crying out. If he made a sound he would be just as dead as they were. Just as dead as his wizards were about to be.

Cale felt he should use this development as an opportunity to escape to the fortress, but he was compelled to look on in utter horror and disbelief. This human wizard had saved him, drawing from an unseen source of magick that appeared to be without mortal limits. The type of magick he once thought was possible only in a vision induced by his own bardic abilities. There was something along with the power, a feeling of rage and willful destruction began to make itself apparent.

Grateful that the grounding rods were destroyed, the elven wizard and his two human compatriots moved to the edge of the forest trail and pointed their staves downrange through a large hedge of blackberries. Fire, ice, and lightning surged down the trail toward the human wizard that had slain their soldiers. The three elements of different types reacted together and their power increased several fold as the torrent reached the enemy. A storm seemed to engulf their attacker. If that wouldn't kill him outright, the wizard would drain his source of magick trying to quell the attack.

Marshall's eyes stared into the forest in shock, but his mind was flooded with the power within him. It was relishing in the pain and death it had caused. "This has to stop..." Marshall managed to speak, trying to summon the strength to quell the rage that was building within him.

Marshall's attention was quickly drawn away by a cyclone of flame, ice shards, and searing bolts of electricity that had surrounded him. It had begun to grind away at his magickally toughened flesh, producing rashes not unlike those you might see after a bad skateboarding accident. He began to scream in pain, which quickly turned into a howl of rage.

Cale backed away down the trail toward the fortress, trying not only to avoid the small storm that surrounded the human wizard, but the gigantic one that was building within. A deafening howl erupted from the scene. Crows fled from the tops of the pines and cedars for what seemed like miles away. A brief moment of silence seemed to fall over the forest, even the magickal cyclone merely whispered for that instant.

Cairn lowered the spyglass and scrying lens once more, quickly stashing the lens in his belt pouch. "Inside, NOW!" He commanded, rushing to the stairs that would bring them to the lower deck and a sliding door to safety. Fitch grabbed a contingent soldier who was standing there slack-jawed and ran down the stairs after Cairn. Vivian held Khalen's hand tightly and glided over to the stairwell. The remaining soldiers brought up the rear.

TEAR THEM ALL APART. A bubble of absolute force spread out from Marshall, separating the cyclone of magick from his body. It poured additional force into the storm until it had picked up rocks from the mountain trail, branches and splinters from the shattered trees. It whirled around him like a hurricane surrounding a solitary rocky island in the ocean.

Cale attempted to weather the conditions in the best way he knew how. He hid in a depression near the bottom of the trail just outside the fortress and began to play his fiddle. He attempted to create some protection from the wayward elements of nature around him, but could not summon the necessary magickal power from himself or his instrument in this world. There was only one source strong enough.

Marshall reached his arms back behind his head and threw them forward, much like tossing a free throw with a basketball. The rear of the storm lifted off the ground, revealing a deep furrow that had been gouged from the Earth. The entire ring of destruction, spanning over 200 feet, surged forward up the mountain trail.

As the hurricane moved up the trail away from Marshall, entire trees and rocks were ripped from the ground and flung in every direction. Two large Ponderosa pines had struck the iron fortress, almost tearing through its half-inch thick iron armor. A deafening note rang through the fortress and the surrounding mountains, punctuating the howling of wind and the grinding away of Earth and forest, which sounded much like rocks and glass in a blender.

Faylish tried to skirt the edges of the turmoil that was erupting at the edge of the forest, moving closer to the fortress. The wind was howling in his ears and the occasional blackberry thorn or wood splinter would scrape his pale skin. He thought he was almost clear of danger when he felt something pierce the delicately woven white elven tunic and bury itself in his left shoulder. He ripped away the finely crafted linen to reveal a tiny wound. Black lines began to appear under his skin, spidering out from the incision. A drop of viscous black fluid appeared from the slit. Faylish dropped back down to the ground as the effects of iron pyrite poisoning began to wrack his body.

Alconan had faced human Wild Magick before and knew it could be unpredictably powerful, but this was beyond anything they had ever thought possible. They attempted to flee further up the trail, but the storm quickly caught up with them. They were carried into the air and ground to a pink mist in the gyrating hell that had engulfed them. Though it had done the job it was conjured up to do, the storm appeared to be growing in size and was heading up the mountain.

Cale focused on the large tormented man ahead of him as he walked back up the trail, playing his fiddle. His music wound its way through the air, attracting the magick that poured from the wizard. Using this to draw power from, he formed the tune into large swatches not unlike that which would be used to wrap a mummy. He could see magick of every element and concentration spray out randomly in the general direction of the storm. Such was the way of Wild Magick. He wrapped the swatches around Marshall, allowing the music to enter the wizard's mind so he may be able to control the magick.

Faylish tried to scream from the sheer torture of the poison coursing through his veins, but he could not draw a deep enough breath to do so. He did find the strength to draw his small silver sword and plunge it into his shoulder. He twisted the blade in the wound, allowing black ooze to gush forth from it. As he rolled over face down he could feel the tiny shard leak from the wound onto the matted ferns, and soon fell unconscious.

Marshall suddenly felt disconnected from the chaos that had unfolded around him. He could see and feel the magick, but it no longer appeared to be 'his' anymore. Another few moments passed and he could hear the music once more. This tune was a bit different. It made him feel strong. Not in the way that the magick did when it was controlling him, but something that let him feel in control. He felt he could command the magick. He looked toward the mountaintop where the storm had grown to surround the entire peak. There was too much power there to absorb at once, but he could hold it there until the storm had run its course. Over a period of several minutes the storm had settled down and subsided. Pain and fatigue quickly overcame him once the song and the flow of magick had ceased. He also felt quite sick physically and collapsed onto the gravel path.

Scene 2 - Journey Through the Aftermath

Cool dripped over Faylish's head as he began to stir. A light rain had awoken him. Black sludge mixed with the red blood that continued to leak from the gash in his shoulder soaked into his clothes and the matted foliage beneath him. He sat up, his muscles protesting the movement, they felt drained after the poisoning, much like every muscle in his body had cramped and then fell limp.

He tore off the remainder of his tunic and found enough material on the back that was not soaked in poisoned blood to fashion a bandage for his shoulder. A pattern of darkly spidered veins still remained on the flesh over his body. He polished the blade of his silver sword with a piece of the cloth to a reflective sheen and flashed it in front of his face. His formerly green eyes had turned a dark olive stained with streaks of black, bloodshot with purple and red traces. Black streaks starred out across his face. Faylish leaned over into his hands and wept until he slept once more. It would be many hours before he woke again.

Faylish plodded through the shattered remains of the forest on his way back up to the mountain pass. Trees and pieces of trees in every state of destruction were strewn in all directions. One band of forest at the western summit was worn completely clear, as though you were looking at a head shaved bare down the middle. He soon reached the site of the battle with the human wizard. He turned his head away from the sight of his elven brothers, whose bodies had now shriveled and blackened beyond recognition.

Averting his gaze brought Faylish's attention to something else, a stirring among strewn branches and brush on the forest floor. A badly wounded human soldier rolled over onto his back and was now facing Faylish.

"Faylish..." The man spoke laboriously. "He was too str -" The sound of his voice had been cut short abruptly. Faylish's short silver sword had pinned his throat to the ground.

"Silence human filth!" Faylish spat, ripping his sword from the soldier's throat. "How could you have let this happen!"

Faylish sat down next to the man's body and soon gathered the courage to collect enough green branches and brush to perform a proper rite of passage for his fallen brethren. The sun began to set as he finished returning their bodies to the forest. It was not the forest from which they were born, but it would honor them nonetheless

Faylish set out again up the forest trail toward the pass. He would not make the Fey settlements on the other side of the pass by nightfall, so would have to stop to rest. He searched for as peaceful and green a place as he could find, not considering shelter. He had no fear of the forest at night. He found a quiet place to lie down and rest. The excruciating pains that had wracked his body the day before were gone, but he could feel a dull echo in every muscle whenever he moved. The rest was a welcome relief. He listened to the sounds of the forest. A light wind was gently wafting the branches back and forth. He could also hear a faint howling and whistling. He could not drift into peaceful sleep. The sounds became ever louder until he could no longer avoid their call.

Faylish stood and walked in the direction of the sound for a few minutes. He came upon a pile of pine branches where the wind was strongest, they had piled against the hillside during the wizard's storm. A metallic glint caught his eye. Sifting through the branches he found the remains of his elven wizard's staff. Alconan took great pride in it. Faylish didn't use magick himself, although all faeries and elves could. Only certain humans who were born with the ability could use magick. Faylish and Alconan had set out many times to track down these humans as soon as they were discovered. Often this involved traveling to mortal worlds further away from the realm of the Fey. The useful ones were turned to their cause. Ones with magick that could not be turned were killed.

The silver of the staff had been battered from the storm and pitted with holes where the human's magick had seared through it, revealing the hollow interior where Alconan actually stored the magick he used. Storing the magick within a hollow edifice was secret that human wizards had not yet discovered, but was common practice among the Fey. As Faylish held the remains of the staff up the wind whistled through the artifact, producing the sounds that drew him to it. Faylish was never attuned to music, nature craft was more his specialty. He could make instruments, but did not have the bardic gift. Not all Fey were given the gift of song or dance.

Faylish listened to the random notes produced by the staff as the wind whistled through it. Thinking nothing of it, he started to walk back toward his resting place for the night. As he walked, dull echoes of pain resurfaced, putting a strain on his mind. There were moments when the pain ceased. There were also moments when the pain almost felt good. It did not take him long to sense that these moments coincided with the notes of the staff.

Faylish eventually peaked the summit and made it to the Fey settlements. His horrific appearance added fuel to the fires of his horrific tale of the Wizard of the Iron Fortress. Word soon spread of a grotesque and dark human wizard that delighted in the torture and death of all the Fey and even their human allies. Tales of horror soon turned to talk of war. A war that would drive a final wedge between the Fey and humans. As the Fey prepared for war, Faylish crossed the gate to the world of the Fey with Alconan's staff in hand. He would craft an instrument of such terrible power that not even the Wizard of the Iron Fortress could deny its song.

Scene 3 - Back at the Fortress

"You have NOTHING! Where is the magick coming from?" Cairn exclaimed, looking over Marshall thoroughly with his magick scrying lens.

"I don't have any kind of object with magick in it. The magick is inside of me." Marshall admitted. "I didn't even WANT to break out. It was the music. The magick wanted out. It answered the bard's song." Marshall protested, trying not to stir too much, lest he aggravate his wounds.

"That is the way of Wild Magick. It does what IT wants and not even the user can control it. Now you see what we were trying to avoid!" Cairn lectured, picking up a stone from the ground and throwing it into the woods.

"I never wanted to hurt anyone. I wanted to be free, at least at first. But after a time I realized what could happen if I ever tried to use the magick. Cale kept it from getting out of control. It responds to his music. Maybe we could control it together, use it for something." Marshall suggested.

"About Cale. He's not normal. Well, at least he's not all there." Cairn stated.

"We ARE talking about a bard!" Fitch quipped.

"Even for a bard." Cairn retorted. "The lens not only shows what kind of magick is there, but a bit about the person that wields it. Cale is a piece of something greater. To further complicate matters, there is a piece of something else there too, but the lens cannot see it."

Marshall's recovery was progressing very slowly. He had lost several pounds, which was hardly noticeable, but whenever he attempted to move he felt like vomiting. The soldiers rotated kitchen duty just as they did previously to his arrival. Marshall didn't feel like eating much anyway. The long nights were spent in his quarters, curled up on his bunk. Marshall found that if he rolled up against the iron wall next to the bunk, the cold of the iron could abate the pain of his wounds. Eventually he took to sleeping directly on the iron bunk itself during the warming weather. He would often eat alone in his quarters, but during the few times he ate with the others he would attach the grounding rod to his ankle shackle himself. Everybody knew it wouldn't do much good, but the token was appreciated anyway. It also gave Marshall a sense of calm.

In the several weeks it took Marshall to recover, an uneasy peace fell over the fortress. Fortress soldiers would clear an even wider path in the halls for him than they did previously, and everyone save for Cale and Cairn avoided his gaze. Vivian had accompanied Khalen to Gol to oversee a shipment of metals, tools, and equipment to repair the fortress. Cairn seemed to understand what was going on, but rarely spoke to anyone, let alone Marshall. Though grateful, Cale was still very wary of Marshall, and would often venture to one of the local towns around the fortress to busk for silver and the human company he had been denied for most of his life. When cooler weather returned to the fortress and Marshall recovered, Cale began to train him to reign in his power first with bardic magick, then with music alone.

Scene 4 - Walking the Tightrope

"Hear the music first, THEN bring out the magick. I'm just going to play so you can hear it, I'm not going to use any of my magick." Cale advised, bringing the bow to the fiddle and playing a simple tune.

The portly human wizard closed his eyes and listened to the music. After a few seconds of contemplation he raised his scruffy and stubbled chin and bore his eyes on the stack of firewood before him. The logs violently burst into flame, this time only one managed to split and send out an ember. Cairn shifted nonchalantly to one side to avoid it, as if he knew where it was going before it did.

The worried look on Vivian's face soon faded once everyone realized the entire campsite and half the forest wasn't going to be engulfed in flames. She moved her staff out from in front of Khalen. The two had just returned from Gol with a shipment of iron, tools, piping, and some raw mineral samples. After the fire was started, Vivian sorted through the minerals, hefting large chunks of rock and examining them for magickal potential.

Fitch simply seemed relieved that they had a fire at all and setup the tripod and coffee pot almost immediately. He sat down on the split log bench, bouncing his tin cup on his knee, as though he had already drank too much coffee.

"You ARE getting better controlling it." Cairn admitted. "This time you managed to do it without Cale's magick, just the music. Khalen, I think it might be time." He added, nodding to Khalen.

Khalen walked over to one of the packs on his small pale horse and produced a small plastic bag. He tossed it to Marshall. "You probably know how to work that better than I do."

Marshall opened the bag to reveal several value packs of AA batteries, memory cards, and a portable music player. "So THIS is where the money went when I told you to sell my mom's house for me." Marshall joked.

"It has a microphone, so it can record Cale's normal playing, but not his magick of course. We had to make sure it would work first. There might be times when you are forced to use your magick and you won't have a bard around." Khalen advised. "As far as your house goes, I only took the agent's fee we agreed on. The rest is in your bank account. Minus the cost in silver of two iron panels and a sliding door carted all the way from Gol. The dwarves here are just as greedy as your stories say they are, and since they can mine silver themselves, they want an awful lot of it when we pay them. I did you a favor and grabbed a few old tea sets." He added.

"For someone who only visits and claims he doesn't like it there, you sure know your way around my world." Marshall commented. "I'm just not sure I do anymore. I've decided to stay here, at least for a while. I've heard the stories told by travelers from the east. I'd like to help fix what I've started."

"You're somewhat of a legend over there, and not in the good sense. The faeries were always good to us, what little we saw of them, but over the years it seems virtually all the elves have been turning against us. It was only a matter of time." Cairn explained. He seemed to pause for a bit, looking out towards the pass. "Death has always been in the air from the east. I think with 'The Wizard of the Iron Fortress' on our side, there will be much less of it." Cairn added. There was a hint of hope in his voice, which was very rarely heard from him.

The pair of darkly veined eyes and almost pointed ears that watched and listened intently ducked back down below the brush at the edge of the camp. Faylish savored the day he would call to the Wild Magick within the grotesquely shaped human wizard, destroying the man with his own rage and capturing his magick as well. As he relished in his fantasy, Faylish's newly musically awakened mind began composing the tune that would be the wizard's undoing.

Marshall continued to train with Cale. There were good days, and there were bad ones too. Overall Marshall learned to walk the tightrope on his own, with Cale's songs to guide his magick.

Marshall had lost track of how much time had passed in the fortress. When he looked in the only glass mirror available there, he did not even recognize what he saw. He had turned rather pale skinned from lack of sun, save for the occassional patch of kitchen grime that manage to show up between baths. His muscles felt like thick ropes, but were greatly softened in appearance by the fat that had accumulated around them. He actually liked the fact that his previously hard, bony face had filled out. Even without the magick that dwelled within, he had become proud of how powerful and imposing his body had become.

The promised war came soon enough. For the two years that followed each battle played out nearly the same. Elves and a few humans would launch all varieties of attacks from the mountain pass at the fortress, trying to venture past it to the human settlements beyond. Each time they were beaten back by a rotund man wearing a black leather apron. He would stand there with his long dark hair, tied with a simple kitchen rag and bring forth forces so powerful that nobody dared venture any further. Marshall managed not to fall from the rope, death of human or Fey was a rare occurance. Eventually the elves just stopped coming. After each battle Marshall would return as quickly as possible to the comfort of the fortress to recover from the nausea and weakness. It seemed only the cold iron of the fortress could ease the pain. He took to wearing heavy cast iron bracelets and anklets virtually all the time.

Scene 5 - Parting of the Ways

Marshall had prepared a feast that day that rivaled any he had done before. He wasn't really sure why he decided to do it at that time, it just felt right. Everyone seemed to wind up with their favorites. Vivian and Khalen had fresh roast turkey with mashed potatoes and gravy. Cairn had a well done grilled porterhouse steak and freshly brewed stout to wash it down. Cale was amazed at the delicacy called 'sushi' and the wine made from rice. Fitch partook of tiny bits of just about everything, but drank distressingly large amounts of the root beer brewed with many different stimulant leaves Cale found in the forest. Marshall himself settled down over a large dish of the chicken and noodle stew his mother would make for him as a child.

They sat at a bench in the middle of the great hall in the iron fortress, surrounded by the soldiers and travelers that made the fortress their home. Somehow everyone knew what was coming.

"I've been called away. I can hear her. A voice I have not heard since I escaped the realm of the Fey." Cale Rheth said solemnly.

"I can open a gate, if you know where you need to go, it will take you there." Vivian offered, she too had known what was coming.

"Without you I would have doomed myself and everyone here." Marshall admitted. "Will I ever see you again?"

"That day we met on the pass. I felt something inside you. Something we have in common. Perhaps it will bring us together once more." Cale said hopefully.

"Everything happens for a reason." Cairn explained. "We found Marshall for a reason. His power grew for a reason. His story is not over. He must move on as well." He added, removing the leather thong holding his belt pouch on. "I no longer need this to see the truth. I feel it is better used in your hands Marshall." He said, giving the pouch to Marshall.

"Vivian's gate will take you back home, or wherever you feel you need to go. Just be damn careful, I'll be checking up on you." Khalen cautioned.

"What about the elves?" Marshall asked.

"We can handle them now, even without 'The Wizard of the Iron Fortress'. Vivian and Khalen are working on a few things, if the elves do return, they won't like what they find." Cairn replied. Marshall had no doubt that was true. "Like Khalen said, we'll be checking up on you." He added.

Chapter 4 - One Moon, One voice.

Scene 1 - A Moonlit Rooftop

Beth reclined on the rooftop and gazed up at the moon. A few strands of her short rust-colored hair partially covered one eye, much like the three-quarters moon above. The light of the moon both lit up and softened everything it touched. A trait shared with Beth as well.

"There you go all quiet." Zach said. "You talking to the moon again?" He asked, turning his head toward his big sister.

"Yeah, I am." Beth's voice was soft and quiet, speaking of a mysterious nature and disguised femininity, also much like the moon itself.

"So what does it say?"

"It doesn't really talk. I just 'feel' like I would if I had actually heard what it said."

"So that's why the songs don't have words. You just hum them in your head or something."

"Kinda, yeah. If I actually had to sing them, I'd be in trouble."

"They make things happen. Like the time Kate's cat got hit by that bike. It was dying, but you made it purr..."

"Yeah. It was in pain. It was afraid to die. My song just took away the pain and let it know that it didn't have to be afraid." Beth's words betrayed the formidable strength that lie underneath the veil of the inexperience of her youth.

Beth's little brother Zach was amazingly perceptive. It would be hard to leave him behind. The time was almost at hand.

"Sis?"

"Yeah?"

"You're weird."

"That does it! Noogie time!" Beth yelped, rolling over and rubbing her knuckles into his head. They both rolled onto their backs and erupted into laughter, staring up at the starry sky. Times like this with her brother strengthened her, she would miss him dearly.

Beth felt as if she was gazing up at the moon from her foster parent's rooftop for the final time. Her journey would have to begin soon.

I only now finished school, I'm just a little girl, what can I do?

- The world will soon be in terrible pain -

But I can't heal the whole world! I feel the pain too! When Larry's wife died, I was sick for days.

- Was it worth it? The world would have suffered without him in it. He hadn't the strength to survive the ordeal. -

Yeah, it WAS worth it. I like Larry. The world is a better place with him still in it.

- You are stronger than you can imagine. There are countless worlds, but only one moon to watch over them all, and I have chosen you as my voice -

Heh, and I can't even sing! Beth mused. She could feel what might pass for laughter from the moon.

I didn't know you could laugh.

- Your joy for life can take away even my pain -

But who is going to help ME? I can't fight alone, not for long anyway.

- You must find a soul to share your life with. -

My taste in guys isn't helping much. Did you do that to me?

- No, I had no part of it. I am the keeper of many of nature's mysteries, but that is not one of them. -

But why fat guys? My life would be easier if I liked girls! They seem to like me well enough.

- Perhaps it would, but you feel love and attraction to them nonetheless. Nature thrives on the unusual. It is what makes life progress. It was not the hundred millionth creature than swam in the sea that paved the way, but the first ones to walk on land. -

The world isn't going to turn into a better place just because I dig fat guys.

- That remains to be seen. Love and desire are forces of nature. They exist for a purpose, and are truly without limits.

Scene 2 - The Coffee Shop

That man in the back corner. I see him here often. I think he might be what draws me here. He carries himself like a god.

- I feel he is somehow part of what is to come. -

He feels strong. I could get lost in those eyes.

- Yes, I sense his strength as well, but there is something more to him. Much like myself, something unknown lurks beneath the surface. -

I would like to know him. Maybe I should introduce myself. Beth suggested hopefully.

- He is watching, waiting for something. Perhaps you. -

Beth rose from her seat and began to walk towards the large man at the back corner table. Hissing and crackling could be heard from outside the coffee shop. The man suddenly bolted upright out of his chair. Beth could feel the stirring of magicks nearby. The past two years of tutulege under the guidance of the moon had taught her to recognize it.

- Elves. I don't know how they found you, we've been so careful when luring their prey away. Get back down, out of the way -

There is music outside. Dark music that nibbles and tears away at the edges of the mind, but it isn't for me.

- Their magick seeks out other magick, to draw it out from hiding. -

The man in the back, he's... Beth stopped abruptly, feeling a sudden wave of magickal energy surge from the large man's direction.

- Yes, even I can feel his power. He is a wizard, a REAL one. -

He doesn't have anything magick. He - he IS magick! Beth was enthralled of more than the man's physical stature at this point.

The man flicked his dark brown ponytail off his shoulder and pulled a gold encircled lens from his shirt pocket. He darted over to the front window with surprising agility. He gazed through the lens at the scene outside the window, leaning his ample belly over the table before Beth's eyes. She pursed her lips briefly.

The man stood upright in front of the window and placed the lens back in his shirt pocket, withdrawing a small music player in its stead. He stuffed the earphones in and looked down at the display. After fumbling with the buttons, he stood motionless for a few moments. Half a dozen bewildered patrons stared at him momentarily, then went back to their drinks.

- He uses music as a focus. I've seen this before in another Earth linked closely with this one. There is something familiar about this man -

He wouldn't need the player if I could sing for him.

- Now I remember, I know this man! -

Across the street from the coffee shop Faylish aimed the small dish-shaped device toward the window. He could see the profane human wizard inside. He knew the wizard's weakness. He just had to wait for the right moment, as soon as he could feel the magick.

Marshall felt Cale's recorded tune narrow his focus enough to call the magick from within him. He saw several elves outside. The lens revealed one of them was hiding in a Hummer H2 with a very large magick focus. If he could dissipate the focus with the exact amount of magick needed, then nobody should notice and he could easily escape out the back hall. The scrying lens had not seen the real threat, the non-magickal one.

NOW. Faylish flipped the switch on the back of the device, noting a short 'zzzt' sound come from it. It was only good for one use, but he knew he found the right moment. He raised his glass and silver pipe to his lips and began to play, haunting music permeated the air with its devious presence.

Faylish's pipe had been fashioned from the remains of Alconan's staff. Glass infused with wispy streaks of black and crimson was bonded over the silver. These streaks danced around inside the glass, creating a hypnotic pattern that matched the mesmerizing music it produced when Faylish played it. It was an eerie match to Faylish's blackish blue lips and darkly veined face. The roots of his hair had grown black, and dark black hair had mostly replaced the fine white mane so typical of other elves.

Chaos erupted from every electronic device in the coffee shop. The television display abruptly went black and the sound reverberated a harsh, raspy tone. Cell phones hissed and crackled, a pager exploded, and two laptop hard drives emitted a sound often heard from the coffee grinders behind the barista's bar. Bewildered, amazed, and annoyed customers fussed with their various bits of tech and cursed loudly.

When Marshall began to call the magick, a sharp pain erupted in his ears as the earphones blew apart. The music player spewed a brief shower of sparks. He grimmaced in frustration, but the magick continued to flow. Marshall began to hear music from a different source. These elves have pestered us for the last time. Wipe them out. Start with that one.

Beth saw the man take a step back, then thrust his arms forward, as if pushing away a bothersome beggar. Arcs of bluish-purple light sparked from his outstretched hands.

The storefront windows shattered instantly. The arcing traveled from the man's outstretched hand and through the wall under the empty window frames. Brick, aluminum, and steel shrieked like some great metallic beast being flayed alive. The sidewalk ahead split cleanly in two as though parted with a great chisel. The effect accelerated into the street. Large chunks of concrete exploded upwards, tracing a line toward the Hummer parked on the opposite side. The vehicle popped apart, looking momentarily like one of those exploded view how-it's-made diagrams, with the individual pieces hovering a few feet away from each other in midair.

The customers in the coffee shop scrambled for the back door, not wishing to encounter any of the destruction that was occuring out front. The two baristas hid behind the bar.

- The Wizard of the Iron Fortress. His power was legendary, but unbalanced. The only human wizard ever known to use Wild Magick. -

Something is wrong. I can feel...

Pieces of the Hummer crashed to the ground. The vehicle's occupant still sat suspended in the air. He was clutching a gigantic stone of smoked quartz, mounted in a cage of hematite and silver. The arc of bluish-purple sparks was drawn to the crystal. The elf holding it settled to the ground and began walking toward the coffee shop.

Standing to one side of the disassembled vehicle was a very unusual looking elf. He was tall and thin like every other elf, but his face was covered with thin black veins that looked like overlapping spiderwebs. His hair was jet black with white tips. He had black bloodshot eyes, and his dark lips blew into a large silver and glass pipe. His long thin fingers appeared to play over the holes in the pipe, but no sound came forth, at least none that could be heard by mortal ears.

Marshall knew what was happening, but he could not hope to control it. The dark music played in his mind and the magick poured forth from him into the crystal bore by the approaching elf. The magick that was not absorbed by the crystal began to wreak havoc elsewhere. Marshall screamed in desperation.

Even the moon itself felt shock at the full scope of the tormented wizard's power.

The fury, the despair. His soul cries out.

- THIS ONE IS BEYOND EVEN OUR HELP. YOU MUST RUN. NOW. -

Power poured from this imposing figure. Beth began to literally choke, for the air was thick with rage, given form by near limitless stores of Wild Magick. She could hear his mind cry out. Not even it could withstand the force of will his magick had been given. Overwhelmed, Beth fell to one knee. The sinister music of the elven bard outside seemed to be laughing quietly in her mind.

Run, run little girl. You don't deserve to die here... She could hear the wizard's mind plead.

Beth fought to stand, regaining her breath. The ground beneath the man's feet began to crack. The bricks of the building groaned in protest.

I will not abandon him. I will calm his pain. The world needs his strength. I need his strength.

- None of my songs can help him. He is far beyond my power. It is too late. Whatever we were to do here, we have failed. -

It is time I sang my OWN song.

Beth faced the torrent of rage, and her heart sang. She sang not of the moon's songs of peace and healing, for these would be of no avail. She sang of hope, of her own fears and desires. You are not a menace. I need you. Soon, the world will need you as well.

As Beth's heart sang her song of hope, she forged ahead through the turmoil and clutched the man's considerable girth. I will share your pain.

Beth's body seared in physical pain. Her legs failed her, but she did not let go. As she screamed in agony her mind fought through it and her heart continued its song of hope. She saw into the soul of the man before her, but she did not see a man.

Beth saw a tall, stout iron building that had stood against much turmoil. It was very large and very strong, but it sat alone. She could feel winds and hammers and battering rams bang away at its armor, which was slowly coming apart. There was nobody there to put the pieces back, and it was beginning to crumble, despite its size and strength.

I am here for you now. We will fight together. You will be my power and I will be your voice. We will be together. We will sing for the world. Beth's song sang to the wizard. Her strength momentarily revealed a glimpse of a tiny shard ripped from some otherworldly greatness embedded in her being.

Once again the moon felt a brief moment of a familiar connection with something. - I have a Si... - The memory disappeared from her before she could form a complete thought as the Shard of the Cataclysm once again went into seclusion.

The pain Beth shared with the wizard seemed ever so distant. A calm fell over them and they both sank down under the table. Marshall fell unconscious, Beth snuggled up close to him, her head on his belly.

- In all the centuries, of all who have sang my songs, none have ever...- The moon looked down, struck silent by what had unfolded.

The chaos outside had subsided for a bit, when a large purple gash appeared in the air above the broken street outside. Cairn, Vivian, Khalan, and several fortress soldiers spilled out of the gate and into the street. Gunfire erupted from a vehicle further down the block, but seemed to dissolve ineffectually against a barrier centered on Vivian. She waved her staff around in the air. It seemed to draw magick in from everywhere around it, and there was plenty to go around at the moment.

She carried a staff quite different than her previous one. It lacked any ornate decoration usually found on a wizard's staff. It consisted of a large crystal that looked much like a gold nugget on top of a copper rod. Despite its large size, she was able to wield it quite easily, as though the rod was in fact a hollow pipe.

Terrified screams in Elvish were heard from the street outside. The elf that had been seated in the Hummer stared in utter disbelief at who stood before him. The Sorceress of the Iron Fortress had followed them here. The wizard had a weakness Faylish could exploit, but her... The elf dropped the crystal on the ground where it shattered, and ran for his life.

Vivian lowered her staff toward the ground where the recently freed magick from the crystal was released, soaking it all up into her staff before it could cause any more damage on its way to return to the Earth.

Khalen barked orders into a radio headset he wore and soldiers ran off into the alleys, brandishing crossbows loaded with pyrite tipped bolts. Khalen lowered the boom mic on the headset, which he did not appear at all to be ill at ease using. Sirens could be heard in the distance.

Faylish lowered his pipe from his lips and slipped out into the alley behind him. A pair of pyrite tipped projectiles whizzed by him, striking the wall next to his sport bike. He leaped on it and it roared to life, carrying him down the alley at breakneck speed, just in time to avoid another pyrite tipped bolt. An incoming police car turned up behind him to give chase, but he quickly outdistanced it.

Cairn and Vivian walked over to the shattered storefront. The remaining soldiers stood in formation around the gate, scanning the city streets for any elves that had not yet got the hint.

"Is that who has been keeping the magick from the elves here?" Vivian asked.

"Yes, she really does exist. The Bard of the Moon." Cairn said, looking down in awe at the small rust-haired girl that lie entwined with Marshall.

"You will never be alone again." Beth spoke softly to Marshall.

- Nor shall you. -

The End