"Save tonight, and fight the break of dawn.
Come tomorrow - tomorrow I'll be gone."

-Eagle Eye Cherry

The last time Fred had stood in Marmoreal's council room, he had been sixteen, naively thinking his life couldn't get any worse. Now, not only did he have to be here, he wasn't even allowed to disappear into the shadows. Mirana was making him actually sit at the table.

It had been a long time since the Council of Underland had gathered, each representative bearing their clan's own colors and standards. A flicker of sorrow burned in his soul for the missing blue of Iplam, and he wished he would have been allowed to bear the green banner of Witzend, though he and Tarrant were the last of the once proud clan.

Instead they stood with Mirana, a guard bearing the white flag of Marmoreal behind them.

Fred studied the visitors, trying to identify them by their colors. The first he noticed was the black of Northern Outland, behind Remenhal. There was brown for Snud's collection of small farming communities, and yellow for Queast. There was no red flag of Crims - though small communities still existed there, they had been so devastated by the Red Queen's slavery that their numbers were sparse and still too far outspread to have had much association with each other.

The man wearing the orange of Southern Outland couldn't be much older than Fred himself, and he looked like he wanted to be there about as much as he did.

"It has been over two decades since the Council of Underland has met," Mirana began, "and unfortunately it meets again, not to share happy news as it once did during my father's reign, but to discuss the disappearance of sentries set to guard the former Red Queen of Crims."

"Illynyr of Southern Outland has received disturbing reports of a new fortress having been built somewhere to the north of them."

A murmur of surprise wafted across the council. Fred automatically fell back into the role he'd played long ago. Quickly, he scanned the minds around the table. All the reactions were the same, save one. His eyes met those of Remenhal. He wasn't surprised at all. Fred looked away.

"Reports of 'somewhere' seem a bit too vague to be relied on," said Remenhal in a deep voice, thick with sarcasm. "Perhaps those of the south should stick to their festivals and dances instead of sending boys to sit where men should be."

Illynyr's face flushed, and he stared the larger man down. "My father sat on this council when you were nothing but a huntsman! Perhaps the north should send someone with less blood on their hands to represent them!"

"Perhaps we should find out what color yours is!" Remenhal stood, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Gentlemen!" said Mirana. "This is neither the time nor place for this!"

Remenhal sat back down, but the tension between the two was palatable.

"We need more information about what is happening. Two scouts have disappeared, and we have been blind to Iracebeth's activities for far too long. I've called you each here to warn you should she be raising an army. I cannot afford to send individual scouts out only to disappear."

"What are you telling us?" the man from Snud asked, fearfully. "Are you saying to prepare for war?"

"I'm not suggesting that war is at hand," Mirana reassured him, "merely to prepare yourselves. Sixteen years ago, Iplam and Witzend paid the price for our laxity."

"Perhaps you should send your own advisor out, Mirana," suggested Remenhal. "He seems quite...observant."

"My duties are here at the castle," said Tarrant.

"Not you." The man pointed to Fred. "Him. You are a seer, are you not?"

Fred suddenly found himself at the center of unwanted attention. "I see what wants to be seen," he said, quietly. "Nothing more."

The man from Queast agreed, "if you cannot spare another, he may be the best choice.."

"He has spent time living in the Outlands, as well, has he not?" asked Remenhal.

There wasn't much she could say other than the truth. "He has." She turned to Fred. "If you are willing, Frederick (had she ever used his full name? She wasn't sure.), it would be a great service to us...and to Underland," she added.

What choice did he have? Between the two of them alone, he and Mirana might behave as brother and sister, but in public she was the White Queen of Marmoreal, and he knew his place. "I would be honored," he said, not meeting her eyes.

"We are in your debt then," she said. "You will need to leave before first light."

"Yes, my queen." He strove to keep the bitterness from his voice, knowing she had been forced into this decision just as much as he had.

"I'm so sorry, Freddie," said Mirana. The council had disbanded not long after the decision and they found themselves alone in the room. "This wasn't my intention."

"I know," he said, "and he's right. I'm qualified to go, regardless of whether I want to or not. There is a door into Northern Outland. I won't be that far away in case I need to leave quickly. The longest part of the journey will be getting to the door in northern Crims that leads there." The sky was already beginning to darken outside. "I need to go...Lizzie's not going to like this at all."

Mirana nodded. "Fairfarren, Freddie."

He nodded solemnly and turned away.

Lizzie had kept her silence all day, not wanting to interrupt Fred in case he was still in the council. Now with it turning dark, she spoke to him.

[Is it over?]

He sighed. He'd rather talk to her about it face to face, but there was no escaping it now. [Yes.]

[Good. Then you can tell me what's going on. And don't tell me it's nothing.]

[Iracebeth has built a new fortress.] There was no answer from Lizzie. She was waiting for more. [No one knows much about it.] He felt a mixture of anxiety, fear, and resignation from her.

[So you got volunteered.]

[Somehow the guy from Northern Outland knew about me having lived there. He brought it up and Mirana had no choice but to send me. I'm sorry, Lizzie, you know it wasn't my idea, but they're right. I know the land better than most.]

[Two men have already disappeared without a trace.]

[I won't be the third.] He thought to her, determinedly.

[Telling me that doesn't make it so. Where are you?]

[I just got to Queast. I'll be there in about fifteen minutes.]

[Okay.]

She was crying, he could feel it. [Lizzie...]

[Just come home, Fred.]

He came through the door by the cabin to find her sitting against a tree not far off, waiting for him. It was almost fully dark as he went and sat down beside her. Neither said a word as he put his arm around her and she lay her head against his shoulder. They sat quietly for a long time, Lizzie knowing there was nothing she could say to keep him from going and Fred knowing there was nothing he could say to ease her mind. Finally, he said the only thing he could say.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to say that. I know there's nothing you could have done about it. I'm just worried about you, that's all."

He hugged her to himself. "You know I'd be lying if I said I wasn't, too, but I'm not planning on being a hero. I'm just going to take a peek and then I'm coming straight back to Marmoreal...that's it."

She sighed and sat back so she could see his face and brushed her fingers across his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning his face into her hand. "Just come home to me."

He opened his eyes and smiled. "You are my home, Lizzie," he said. "I don't know where or what I'd be without you. I never want to find out."

She kissed his cheek. "You'll never have to."

The lamp burned low on the table beside their bed. They lay face to face, watching each other in the dim light, storing up courage for the long day ahead.

[We need to sleep.]

[I don't want to sleep. When I wake up, you'll be gone.]

[I'll wake you before I leave. Are you staying here or going to Marmoreal?]

[I'll go to Marmoreal after lunch. Will you be back tomorrow night?]

[I should be if I get an early enough start in the morning. I'll just go straight there, then. Mirana will want a report anyway.]

She turned over and backed up against him so that her head was under his chin. He put his arm around her waist and, after a while, they both slept.

In the shadows outside the cabin, a tall figure waited patiently.

Fred woke while it was still dark, and reached behind him for the watch (pilfered from Above) on the table beside the bed. Time didn't really flow by 24 hour standards here, but he'd slept nearly five hours and it was still dark. It was time to leave. He groaned to himself, loathe to leave the warmth of the bed and his wife who still slept peacefully in his arms.

"Lizzie..."

"...nooo..," she groaned. "...'snot time t'go."

He kissed her cheek. "It is, I'm sorry. I have to."

She rolled over and opened her eyes, looking up at him. "Please be careful."

"I will, I promise."

She smiled faintly. "Promises'll get you into trouble."

He smiled back and kissed her forehead. "I think I've made a few good ones." He got out of bed and dressed in dark clothing, then took his cloak out of the drawer and clasped it at his neck. He took his sword from another drawer and buckled it around his waist.

She sat up on the bed, and he leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. "Be back before you know it."

"You'd better be."

He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Lizzie lay back down and listened until she could no longer hear his footsteps outside the cabin, then drifted off to sleep.

Freddie traveled from door to door, from the border of Tulgey Wood, through the Room of Doors, and then on to Northern Crims. He paused in front of the door to the Northern Outlands, threw his hood up to hide his flaming red hair, and drew his sword, worried that Iracebeth would have someone stationed the gate. If Remenhal had given allegiance to her, she would know that he was coming.

He opened the door and walked through. It didn't look much different than he remembered it, a forest ultimately was just a forest regardless of which plants had lived or died. He walked about a quarter of a mile away, out of the area of the gate and addressed the trees:

"I'm looking for a new fortress. Can you show me where?"

The trees rustled nervously, until an old oak near him spoke, his voice only a whisper. "They will not s-s-ssspeak...she will burn the talkers-s-s-s..."

"You don't have to lead me, just show me where."

"Across-s-s..the s-s-stream...beware...the dead are..."

"Are what?"

"...beware...beware..." The tree spoke no more.

He crossed the stream and walked on. Ahead, the sun shone brightly through the trees. He slowed down, confused. The area should be a dense forest, yet light filtered through the trees ahead of him.

He continued on, until he came to a grouping of dead trees. They had been torched, their trucks like giant burnt matchsticks stuck into the earth. He passed through them, the dead undergrowth crunching under his boots, and up over a rise. In the valley below was a dark, stone fortress.

Keeping to the treeline, he walked around the castle until its courtyard lay before him. Here, there were men - a dozen, ringing a wagon with bulging cargo covered by a tarp. In the center of the yard blazed an enormous bonfire.

As he watched soldiers, wearing the black of the Northern clans carrying pitchforks, threw back the tarp and began raking bodies from the back of the wagon and onto the ground. Others dragged each corpse aside, cut the heart from it, and threw its heart into the fire. Time passed, until the courtyard was filled with the heartless dead and the gruesome task was completed.

The solemn notes of a hunting horn reverberated through the valley. The sound chilled him to his bones, and Fred watched as the bodies in the field struggled to their feet.

A sound behind him made Fred turn around. Bearing down upon him was no ordinary soldier. It's pale eyes regarded him unseeingly; it's skin, though well preserved, hung from it's bones, and there was a gaping, ragged hole where his heart had once beat.

Fred jumped back, drawing his sword just in time to parry the blow from the undead soldier. He hacked at it with strikes that should have killed a mortal man, cutting of it's arm, but still the soldier fought , he knocked the soldier off his feet and with a final strike, cut off its head. It dissolved into dust and blew away.

Fred sheathed his sword and ran towards the door, knowing that he alone held the knowledge of what was happening in the Outlands. He had to make it back to Marmoreal and Mirana.

As he neared the door, the hunting horn echoed through the forest.

It was evening before he made it to Marmoreal. He ran inside, towards the Great Hall, but not finding Mirana turned back to the kitchen. Thackery was cooking something, hopping around, muttering to himself.

"Where's Mirana?" Fred asked.

"Hmm...not here. Want soup?"

"No." He found a footman outside and asked him to have the Queen meet him in the council chamber.

He ran up to the room and waited. Mirana finally appeared, closing the door behind her.

"You're back sooner than I though you would be," she said, surprised.

"I saw all I needed to see."

"Which was?"

He took a seat before continuing. "Someone has built a fortress in Northern Outland and is raising an army of the dead."

"What do you mean 'army of the dead'?"

"I meant it like I said it. The huntsmen of the North are pillaging their dead and using some sort of voodoo mumbo-jumbo to turn them...alive again."

"What are you talking about?" Mirana whispered.

"I saw a wagon load of dead bodies get turned un-dead and start wandering around - one tried to take my head off!"

Mirana looked at him, and he felt her uncertainty. "Who else did you see?"

"I'm not crazy, Mirana. I know what I saw, and I didn't stick around to meet anyone else."

"I didn't say you were crazy, Freddie. It's just...not what I expected."

"What did ya' expect, Miri? I'd waltz over there and Racie'd offer me tea?" he asked. "I think you underestimate what she's capable of...and what she'd like to be capable of." He was tired of talking about it. "Where's Lizzie? I'd just as soon go home right now. I've told you all I know."

"Lizzie? I don't know. I haven't seen her."

Fred's heart skipped a beat as he realized he hadn't heard her thoughts all day.

["Lizzie?"] There was no answer. He'd been so caught up in what he'd found in the Outlands, he didn't notice until now that he couldn't sense her. "What do you mean, she's not here? Where did she go?"

"She hasn't been here all day."

Without another word, he ran from the castle and through the doors to their cabin in Northern Witzend. Everything was in its place, but the cabin was silent. Something was wrong. The bed was not only unmade, but the quilt from the top was missing. He scanned the rest of the room and his heart stopped as he knelt and picked up the two objects laying discarded on the floor – a silver wedding band and a wooden promise ring.