"SO LET ME get this straight," Nick said, massaging his temples. "You –" he looked at me – "can see ghosts, faeries, and other things people normally can't, you can sense emotions, and you think your mum was one of the old Faerie. And you –" which was directed at Erik – "are a Guardian, a Celestrian, and you and these fygg things fell down from the Observatory during that big earthquake a few weeks back."

"Not even mentioning your supposed little faerie friend," Cristine added.

Erik snorted. "Friend is a bit of an overstatement," he said. "She has only stayed with us thus far by forcing her presence upon us and having just enough good sense to know what would push me to the point of murdering her so as to make her stop talking."

I didn't do a very good job of hiding my laughter at that. Not as though it mattered – Stella hadn't come back to Dourbridge with us. I was almost worried about her up there with Garth Goyle, but I figured she'd be fine. Knowing Stella, she could probably destroy the monster just by being her normal babbling self.

Nick was still rubbing at his temples. Cristine was looking from me to Erik and back again. I was suddenly seized by guilt. I should have told her before. Almighty, don't let her hate me for never having told her all this…

"Cristine…" I murmured.

"Mm?"

I fidgeted. "Sorry…sorry I didn't tell you. Before, I mean." I looked down. "I guess I haven't been much of a friend."

"Haven't I already told you not to say stuff like that?" Cristine asked. I looked up to see that she was smiling a little. "It doesn't matter to me, Tammy. Whether I knew or not, you were still going to be my best friend. Besides –" her smile grew, becoming the familiar cheerful beam – "I always knew you were a freak. Now I just know the reason."

She reached out and hugged me gingerly, being careful of my bandages. I returned the hug, feeling my guilt abate a little. There were still things I was holding back, but they weren't important. Not potentially friendship-ruining like what I'd just told her. And, I realised, having her know was a huge relief. It was like a weight had been lifted off me, one I hadn't even known was there until now.

"Thank you, Cristine…"

There was a long moment while we hugged when no one talked. When we finally broke apart, Nick cleared his throat. Cristine, Erik and I all looked at him. He'd left off rubbing his temples, but he still had a hand to his head.

"This is crazy," he said, looking at us. "You know that, right?"

I laughed. "Yeah."

"All right," he said. "As long as you all know it, too. I can deal with that." He paused. "So what are we going to do about Garth Goyle?"

"The fygg is there with him," Erik said immediately. "We must retrieve it. I do not know how, exactly, with Mason being dead, but in every case so far the fyggs have done surprising things. Defeating Garth Goyle would be the first step in retrieval, I believe."

"How?" Cristine asked. "He nearly killed Tammy last time."

I shook my head. "We weren't prepared," I said. "I was careless. As long as we know we'll be in for a fight, we ought to be good. Besides, now we know what sort of things will hurt it." I smiled. "And much as I'd like to protest any gifts, the cautery sword is probably one of the best weapons we could have on our side against Garth Goyle. I don't think fire and statues mix."

With that, I buckled my new sword around my waist and rose.

"Oh, no, you don't," Nick said, getting up as well. "You're not healed yet. There's no way you're going to make it up that mountain and still be good for a fight. I doubt you'd be good just for the fight right now."

"I can deal. Trust me," I said, and grinned. "Just ask Cristine – when have I ever let something like a life-threatening injury slow me down?"

Cristine laughed. Erik rolled his eyes. "That is not necessarily a sign of strength," he said. "I am still questioning your sanity from the Coffinwell incident."

"But I survived."

Another eye-roll. "Only because I knocked the blood and phlegm out of your throat when you choked on it."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "You won't have to this time."

Nick's hand was back at his face, but I could see him smiling. "Anyway," he said pointedly. "Tammy, I appreciate your determination, but you really do need to heal more if you're going to hike back up the Heights of Loneliness. It's hard work."

I made a face, but I knew he was right. Maybe I could hold my own in a fight – definitely if I was fighting alongside Nick, Erik, and Cristine – but the trek up to Zere Rocks was another story entirely. It was bad enough when I was perfectly healthy. My headache was gone, but my scratches still hurt.

"Hiking may not be the only option," Erik said suddenly. We all looked at him. "The spell I used to bring us back after Tammy was injured – I am able to use it to bring us to any place I have been before. Zere Rocks ought not to be much challenge."

Nick hesitated, torn between healer's instincts and the desire to get the fygg. But in the end, the fygg won out.

"Okay," he said. "We'll go up to Zere Rocks the quick way. But if you start to feel at all tired, I want you to get out of the way and let us finish the fight. I don't want to have to heal you again."

I grinned. "Agreed."

"Let us go, then," Erik said, rising and turning to leave in one fluid motion. I rolled my eyes good-naturedly as we followed him out of the tent, waving goodbye to Captain Max. I suppose leopards really don't change their spots…

One frightening, blind, spell-whirlwind ride later, we were back at the top of Zere Rocks. My heart was pounding. My head was spinning, too, and it had started aching again. But I didn't complain. I knew that if I did, Nick would send me right back down the mountain to wait it out until they'd beaten Garth Goyle.

We took the short way back to the monster, pausing on the near side of the stone stream bed, across from where it waited, yellow eyes gleaming.

"Where…is…my…master…?" it growled, glaring at us. "You….are…mot…Mason… Leave…this…place…intruders…. Leave…or…die…!"

"How about neither?" I asked, and thrust the cautery sword out in front of me. I grinned as flames roared out of the stone in the pommel and engulfed Garth Goyle, making it a black silhouette against the flickering heat. But something seemed wrong. Last time the flames had just seemed to damage it a bit, but this time it looked like its shape was expanding.

My eyes went wide. "Oh, no," I said, and grabbed Erik's arm since he was closest. "Everyone, behind a shield! I think it's gonna explode!"

I lifted my shield above Erik's and my heads, while Nick did the same for him and Cristine. We peered around the edges as I kept the flames going and Garth Goyle's stony body kept expanding.

There were groans filling the air, and I didn't think they were coming from its mouth. The stone was moaning and expanding, stretching beyond the point I thought was possible. Then there was a groaning voice from within the flames: "St…St…Stone…me…!"

And finally, with an almighty, earth-shattering boom, the heat and pressure became too much and Garth Goyle exploded. I yanked my sword arm back behind the shield and dropped into a crouch, trying to cover as much of Erik and me as possible with my shield. A sudden jolt in the air around me made me jump. I struggled to hold the shield up as stones battered down on it and flames roared outwards, coming within half a metre of where Erik and I crouched, terrified, behind the shield. My skin felt like it was crisping from the heat. The sound of rocks hitting the earth and the shields and the stone around us was deafening. My arm hurt from holding the shield steady against the rapidly changing pressure.

After what felt like forever but was probably only about half a second, the fire burnt itself out and the last of the rock shards fell to the ground with dull thunks. I straightened slowly, keeping the shield up just in case.

Then I lowered the shield and looked around. Chunks of rock littered the ground, some tiny, some big enough that I thanked the Almighty they hadn't hit my shield. Beside me, Erik, Cristine, and Nick were looking around too. But among all the things scattered around the stone village, a big, scary stone monster wasn't one of them. Garth Goyle was lying in pieces on the ground.

"Well," Cristine said. "That was…unexpected."

I laughed shakily.

"You think?" asked Nick.

Stella fluttered over from behind the hollow house, where she must have been hiding. "Huh?" she said. "What the flap was that…? It didn't half give me the woollies! I'm all itchy now."

I rolled my eyes. Even now, the faerie's mouth was unstoppable.

Then I saw something much more interesting: Mason's ghostly figure materialising by a set of down-leading stairs.

Erik saw it, too. Ignoring Stella, he headed straight after Mason, who had glided down the stairs without a word.

"Mason's ghost," I said, glancing at Cristine and Nick. "He went down those stairs." I pointed. "You can stay up here if you like, but I'm going after him."

Then I hurried away, clumping down the stairs. Mason had stopped on top of a stone box – probably a coffin.

"I owe you an apology," he said sheepishly. "Looks like that guardian fellow appeared when I ate that funny fruit and made a wish for my work to be kept safe. But that wasn't what I meant by keeping it safe at all…"

I glanced back at the sound of feet coming down the stairs. Cristine and Nick joined us by the coffin.

"Where is he?" Cristine whispered.

I nodded towards the softly glowing shape on top of the coffin. Cristine and Nick looked up at it, though I noticed neither of them managed to look exactly at Mason.

Mason smiled at them. "Anyway, thank you," he said. "Now my little friend can relax again at last." He started glowing brighter, and I felt a pang of longing. "I couldn't go back there, so I recreated my beautiful, lost hometown here in Zere Rocks. This place is just a replica, you see. The dream of an old fool who hoped he could bring back his lost love. Now, Petra, lass…" He smiled sadly, and looked up at the rocky ceiling of the corridor. I bit my lip and struggled to keep my face looking normal. The sadness wasn't all Mason's. Most of what I felt from him was that same gentle, beautiful emotion. No, the sadness was mine. Because once again, I was feeling that emotion, and it wasn't mine. It wasn't meant to be shared with me. And even though it was beautiful then, I knew it was just going to leave an even bigger hole when it disappeared.

"Now I can come home to you at last… To my hometown of Zere."

I couldn't look away, even though the brightness hurt my eyes. I stood there and watched as Mason's spirit went to the light, taking his beautiful emotion with him. And then the glow vanished, and I was left with the imprint blocking my vision and the emotion echoing emptily inside of my heart.

We reached Bloomingdale at about three thirty with another fygg in our hands. I'd pulled myself together on the walk down from Zere Rocks and had managed to act normal. And, to my surprise, it had actually helped a little. Maybe I wasn't feeling it like I had when I'd encountered the emotion in others, but something about the simple pleasure of being with my friends – and Erik – reminded me of it, a little. And it was better this time, because the emotion actually was meant for me to share.

Bloomingdale was a busy port town, bright and full of people from all over the world. The sounds of conversation and trade flew over our heads and across merchant's booths, mixing with the calls of the seagulls and the crashing of waves against the harbour wall. I smiled. I loved this place.

Cristine glanced longingly at some of the wares the merchants had out for sale. "I wish we had a bit more money," she murmured. "I doubt I'd buy anything, but it would be nice."

Erik had paused and was examining a Tussler's top and the matching trousers. I bit my cheek meditatively.

"Well," I said then, "we could earn some. As I've seen so far, there are plenty of people, but no minstrels aside from Cristine and me."

Cristine's eyes brightened. "And I'm sure a bit of entertainment would be appreciated!"

I grinned and looked at the boys. "Would either of you be willing to help? It would be a huge relief if I was allowed to sing soprano for once instead of struggling with tenor."

Nick raised his eyebrows. "You're a soprano?"

"Yeah," I said. "But I've had to develop a lower range, too. Cristine's an alto, but she's more girlish, so we usually end up with her playing the girl if there's one of each."

"Somehow, I do not see how that works," Erik said. "I would think that if either of you sang naturally in the higher range, it would be Cristine.

Cristine shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "That's just how it worked out. So?" she asked then. "Who wants to help?"

"I do not perform," Erik said, seeming uncomfortable just with the idea.

"I've never even tried," Nick admitted.

"Doesn't mean you're no good," I said. "What d'you reckon? Want to give a song or two a practise go before you try anything in public?"

Nick hesitated, and then shrugged. "Why not?" he asked, rolling his eyes. "Just don't kill me if I'm terrible."

I laughed. "Don't worry," Cristine said. "I won't let her." She smiled. "We can hide out in the inn while we're practising. I'm sure no one will mind."

So, we soon found ourselves at a table in the common room of the Flowery Beds, Bloomingdale's large inn. Cristine had announced that she would play the flute to go along with mine and Nick's singing, if I'd do the same for her when she danced; Erik was just sitting there, clearly uncomfortable in the little world of performance we'd started creating. I rolled my eyes at him. "You know, if you don't want to deal with this, you can find some other way of earning money."

"I would not even know where to begin," he muttered, folding his arms and looking away.

I rolled my eyes again and turned my attention to Nick. "So, do you know any songs?"

He shrugged. "A few," he said. "Mostly ballads."

"Any duets?" I asked. "I know loads, but it'd be easier if you knew one beforehand – less rehearsal, you know."

"Erm…" He looked away, thinking. Then he smiled and looked back at me. "Well, I know one…"

I supposed the market was an all-day thing, because when we headed out of the inn to start performing that evening, there were still loads of people out and about. Erik left as we reached the little place we'd agreed on for the performance. "I am going to search for Bloomingdale's Guardian," he said. "And then perhaps I shall seek out the ship that the man from Porth Llaffan spoke of. It could be quite useful to have access to a ship of our own."

"All right," I said. "We'll either be here or at the inn, I suppose. Or maybe not." I made a face. "With the number of people there are here today, it might be a better plan to bivouac outside the city."

Cristine laughed. "What, scared all those people are going to trigger your little Faerie instincts?"

I stuck my tongue out at her. "Yes, yes I am," I said. "That and I don't fancy our odds of being able to find even one room if all these merchants are staying in town."

"Well," Erik said, clapping his hands uncomfortably. "I shall be off, then. Good luck."

"You don't say good luck, you say break a leg!" I called after him. He raised an arm in acknowledgement and didn't turn.

Cristine laughed. "It's funny how you think he cares."

"Shut up," I replied, grinning. "Come on. I think it's time to bring a bit of entertainment to the market!"

We set up quickly. There wasn't a balcony this time, but a small wooden bench would do the trick. Cristine pulled out the flute and began to play a few notes to warm up while Nick and I did the same, running through the scales a few times. It served the dual purpose of getting everyone ready to perform and attracting a bit of a crowd. Cristine and I had learnt that quickly.

When we were all ready, Cristine started playing the introduction. I leapt onto the bench and began to pace. Nick paused about a metre away from the bench.

And when I heard my cue, I began to sing.

It was "Marianne and Robert" again, but it felt a little odd singing Marianne's part. Even so, I knew the piece better than I did the back of my own hand. Cristine's playing helped me keep time. And Nick's voice really wasn't bad at all. He had the song memorised, which surprised me a little. It was quite long. But he did it well, and even the leap and the stage kiss at the end – which was, in my experience, the hardest part – went without a hitch. We pulled back up and bowed. I was smiling again.

Cristine and I changed places and Nick moved off to the side. I had a fairly simple tune in mind to play along with Cristine's dancing, but when I put the flute to my lips, that wasn't what came out. Instead, it was the song that went along with the beautiful emotion.

I didn't know where it had come from – some sort of subconscious trick or something, I supposed. And it wasn't nearly as rich as it had been in my head. But I ignored that and decided to play on. After all, I knew the tune – the music that I'd heard never really faded. It was always there in the back of my mind.

As I played, I glanced over at Nick. He was watching Cristine dance, blue eyes following every motion of her little lithe body. I looked back at Cristine and saw her through the emotions Nick was seeing her with. It was heightened by the music – which, simplified as it was, still somehow carried that strange feeling I longed for so much – but I could tell that a lot of it was Nick's. Wow, I thought. How did I not see that before?

Nine days wasn't a long time. Things like that were far removed from anything I knew about except through stories, songs, and empathy. But I thought maybe, just maybe, nine days was enough to start liking someone. Really liking someone. I almost smiled, and then realised it was a bad idea if I wanted to keep playing. So I kept my little bit of happiness to myself and let the song play on.

At the end, Cristine curtsied and smiled at the applause. As she joined Nick and me over to the side, she asked, "Where in the world did you learn that song? It was beautiful."

"I heard it," I said. "For most of my life, the empathy thing manifested in music. And the songs always got stuck in my head. So I guess I just…felt like playing one."

Cristine smiled. "Well, whatever emotion it was, I hope I feel it like that sometime," she said. "If it's that beautiful in a song…"

"Yeah." I sighed inaudibly. She had no idea how much I wished the same thing.

Then I shook myself and said, "All right. Shall we pack up for the night or stay a bit longer? I've got a few stories I could tell if we hang around."

Cristine glanced over at the crowd, who were looking at us with interest. "I think we could stay here a bit longer," she said. "They still look pretty eager."

"Let's hear a story," Nick said, and grinned. "Cristine and I will sit by listening like a couple five-year-olds."

I smiled. "Okay," I said, and walked back out into the clear area serving as our stage. Then I turned to face the audience.

"This is an old, old story from the part of the world where I grew up," I said. "There're few enough who know the full details, and those who do generally aren't willing to share. But I can assure you that every word is true." As I spoke, I felt myself start to drawl a bit, the Coffinwell-like accent I'd picked up over the past few years fading back into what I'd grown up with. I hadn't recited this story since before I'd left home, but I still remembered every word.

Now I had the audience's attention. I repressed a smile as I began the story.

"It was three hundred years ago now, and the world was deep under the oppression of the mighty Gittish Empire. Most were too terrified to fight back. But there were areas of resistance. One of those places was the village of Upover, set on the side of the Magmaroo, a great volcano. If any other place had been so outspoken against the Gittish Empire, they would have been destroyed immediately, but Upover was so far away that only the faintest of rumours reached the ears of those few in the empire who had true power. And so for many years – generations – the people of Upover were able to resist without fear of punishment.

"This made them grow bold, and eventually the emperor grew tired of it. Knowing that such an outspoken place as Upover would have to be completely obliterated in order to quiet it, he sent out the most feared of all the empire's warriors: Barbarus, the dragon of darkness."

The sun had sunk low enough that the only lights now were coming from the bonfires that had started up around the city. A flash of silver reflecting the firelight caught my eye for a second, and I blinked in acknowledgement as Erik inclined his head my direction and then joined Nick and Cristine over to the side.

"The Upoverians received no warning. Barbarus could fly faster than even the quickest of messengers could travel. And so when, in the middle of the night, the dark dragon came upon the village, there was no way to prepare.

"Half of Upover was destroyed the first time the black dragon passed over, obliterated by the dark flames and black magic that the king had given Barbarus himself. Men and women, young and old, those who were openly rebellious and those who were more quiet about it – all were killed without discrimination. Those who survived escaped into the network of tunnels on the inside of the Magmaroo.

"For weeks they struggled to survive inside of the mountain's fiery belly. They knew that Barbarus was waiting for those who ventured outside – he made no secret of the fact that he was still there, roaring and belching flame at every opportunity. Only a few were brave enough to leave in search of the resources the villagers desperately needed. Some never made it back. The people of Upover were brave, but they knew that against a dragon, they would have no chance. So they were forced to remain inside the Magmaroo while the threats of dehydration, starvation, and heatstroke pursued them from every side.

"Finally, as even the most determined of the Upoverians were nearly ready to admit defeat, there arose from within their number the most outspoken of all against the Gittish Empire: Greygnarl, a young warrior fond of the drink and of the skies.

"He rallied the defeated Upoverians, fiery passion in his every word against the Gitts. Together with the best minds of the village, he devised a plan to throw Barbarus from his reign of terror atop the Magmaroo and win the village back.

"The next day, he left the tunnels alone and roared at Barbarus to come down from his lofty perch and do battle. Enraged by the villagers' insolence, Barbarus did just that. He tried to destroy Greygnarl, but the warrior's white armour and piercing blades allowed him to fight back as none ever had before. And then finally, as the battle brought them to the very peak of the Magmaroo, Greygnarl delivered a death blow to the black dragon, who fell down into the crater and was utterly destroyed in the lava deep within.

"Disheartened by the loss of its most fearsome warrior, the Gittish Empire never returned to Upover. Greygnarl became known as the Hero of the Heavens as his battle against the dark dragon became legend, and he led the people to overthrow the Gittish Empire.

I looked out over the faces of the crowd, light dimly in the flickering light of the bonfires. I knew that the light must have made my face look just as dim and strange, and I smiled slightly. That would help with this next part.

"This," I said, "is when the stories start to diverge. All agree that Greygnarl never became a king. Some say that, valued too much for his fighting skills, he became a military leader rather than a political one. Others say that he was killed in the final battle with the Gittish Empire, for if a leader could take them as far as he had, why would he not become king when the battles were won? I've heard versions where Greygnarl lives but chooses to return to Upover and live out his days there with his people…and his favourite drink, a potent brew called Drunken Dragon." I smiled and knew that it would have an eerie effect in the flickering firelight.

"And then there are the stories that say that Greygnarl lives still, and that his home is on top of the Magmaroo, the same place where he defeated Barbarus all those years ago. These are the stories that have endured the longest and the ones that are most told back where I come from. Maybe it's not possible. No one can live for three hundred years, after all. But then again, this world is a strange place. You never know quite what's possible and what's not until you've seen it with your own eyes." I smiled wider, exposing my teeth. "Just a little food for thought."

I bowed and stepped away as scattered applause began. Cristine grinned. "Nice story," she said. "I hadn't heard that one before."

"That's because I haven't told it before," I replied. "Waiting for the right time, I suppose." I grinned. "And I think it went pretty well. Dusk is a good time for it."

The crowd was starting to disperse. I heard clinking as some coins were passed our way. There were a few muted whispers about the story – I distinctly caught the words "Greygnarl" and "three hundred years" several times. We gathered up our stuff and left to set up camp outside the city.

"But do you believe it is true?" Erik asked as we set up.

I shrugged. "Do I believe in a hero named Greygnarl who led a revolution against the Gittish Empire?" I asked. "Yes. Do I believe he defeated Barbarus all on his lonesome and is still alive on top of the Magmaroo today?" I shrugged again. "Dunno. A week and a half ago I would have said no. But I've found that my capacity for belief has stretched a little – you know, what with Celestrians and all these faeries running about the place." I grinned. "That story gives me just as much food for thought as it does the audience."

But as we lay down, Greygnarl's story wasn't the only thing I was thinking about. The emotions I'd felt Nick having towards Cristine lay heavily on my mind as well, and my wondering if I would ever feel anything like that myself.

That night, I didn't visit the Faerie wood in my dreams, but I heard Aegil's voice in the blackness of sleep.

Believe.

Fi-ii-iinally! Okay, now I feel really awful...prepare yourselves for excuses.

These past three weeks have been absolutely hectic at school. One week I had work after school. One week I had to take time off of work so I could get all of my school stuff done. Everything was due the very last week of school. Please, somebody tell me how that makes any sense at all! And in addition to all that, the crap-tastic school computers they lend to us had to be returned, so I couldn't do any work on this story without being afraid I'd loose it all when I turned in the computer. So all in all, I've had a very productive three weeks - just not in the things I'd actually like to be doing.

But on the positive side, it's all over! Yesterday was our last day of school for the year, so I'm giving a big, rousing "hello!" to summer holiday! We've got a couple weeks' down time before we start doing any heavy travelling, so even though I'm sure I'll have work, I'll also have loads more time to write. Even when we travel, I find time - I learnt that working on The Mortal Sentinel last holiday. And this time I'm just playing through the game, not going through and having to write out all the game dialogue before I can write the chapter to go along with it. I'm sure my hand appreciates not being achy and smeared with pencil lead!

Til next time then (may it not be nearly so long!), may all the bodies of the heavens watch over you!