Hmm, thats odd. The line thing doesn't seem to be working. Guess I'll just have to improvise. Anyway, finally my next chapter is up, and is not beta'd because I wanted to post it now, so apologies for any roughness. This chapter is loooooong, I'm warning you now! And I have to admit I'm not entirely happy with it, but I'm a perfectionist, nothing I do is good enough for me! I hope its satisfactory, and I do believe the next chapter is going to be a Raisse chapter, cos I've broken my stalemate with her and thought of a plot bunny.

Chapter Nineteen:- Chip and Fauve, and the Resolution

The forest was still. All was quiet, save for the gentle babble of a nearby river, the rustle of leaf on tree as the wind caught branches and the sound of steady breathing emanating from the two people sleeping in the clearing.

Fauve lay on her side, her knees and elbows bent so that the whole of her body fit underneath the cloak draped over her. Her head lay on a convenient pile of moss; no substitute for a soft goose-feather pillow but better than bare earth. Chip was asleep on the other side of the fire flat on his back. It had pleased him to gaze at the stars before he'd drifted off and his position had changed little since then. He'd also been dreamless for most of the night, his mind content to lie dormant in his sleeping head. However, his peaceful repose was about to be broken. As he shifted his weight slightly on to his left side, he began to dream. He dreamed of darkness.

Darkness during the daytime. A place, a building, isolated, bare...no, not bare…a bundle of rags lay in one corner. He walked towards it, stooping because the ceiling was so low. Tentatively, he raised his foot to kick it. It moved before his toe touched it, and he leapt back. It made a noise like the whimper of a mangy dog. Carefully, he edged forwards again, reaching out his hand very slowly until he felt coarse material brush the tips of his fingers. He clutched the blanket and pulled hard, and it slipped quickly to the floor to reveal a thin, dirty figure wearing a faded and torn blue dress. Its head, covered with matted blonde hair, was rolled down into its shoulders. As he stood there, hardly daring to breathe, the head began to lift very, very slowly, a curtain of hair obscuring its face. Wide, brown eyes peered up at him above tear-stained cheeks.

'Raisse?' he heard himself whispering.

Her cracked lips parted just enough to allow her to speak. A hollow and dry sound rattled from her throat.

'Help me', she pleaded.

As he watched, her skin turned paler, paler still until it was winter-white. Her eyes darkened. Her lips drew back too far to reveal broken teeth. Her small, delicate nose seemed to disappear completely. Suddenly, Chip realised he was staring at a skull.

A scream brought him back from his nightmare. He sat up so quickly that his head spun, almost sending him hurtling back into the darkness. His throat hurt, because the scream was coming from him. His heart was pounding fit to break his chest.

No…no…it can't be true, It's not real…it's not real!

It took him a few minutes to remember where he was and to banish that awful sight from his vision. It was still dark, but he was outside. The moon high in the sky above him confirmed that. No room, no rags, no Raisse…

Raisse…

How could he have forgotten? He hadn't thought about her for days it seemed. He'd been so pre-occupied with his new-found abilities and Fauve.

Fauve…

He looked across the clearing to where she still lay sleeping, despite his screams just a few moments earlier. She looked so peaceful…as though she didn't have a care in the world.

And maybe that much was true. To her, this was all some big adventure. He hadn't told her the full details of his quest yet, and she hadn't asked. She'd seemed content merely to ride alongside him talking about nothing in particular—herbs and their properties, her horse, even the weather—and he'd been content just to listen to the sound of her voice. It was deeper than one might expect, almost husky, but still somehow feminine, with just a hint of an accent. Chip didn't have an accent, despite having lived in France all his life. He could pin that down to being around people like Cogsworth for most of the time and living in a household where the first language was English.

Fauve could speak both French and English fluently, and sometimes when she talked, she slipped from one to the other mid-sentence, seeming to prefer certain English words to French and vice versa. He liked the way she pronounced his name. She made it sound more interesting.

He had her to thank for easing his mind over the last few days. They could almost have been any two people just wandering on horseback through the countryside.

Except they weren't.

Chip cursed himself. Forgetting had been nice for a while, but he was on a quest. A very important quest, with the life of the princess at stake. The shock of his nightmare suddenly made him realise what could happen if he failed. He hoped with all his strength that it hadn't come to pass yet.

There was a way to find out.

His bag lay just a few feet away from where he now sat. Quietly and carefully, he leant over and retrieved it from its spot on the ground. He untied the cord holding it shut and felt inside, until his fingers closed around something smooth and heavy. The magic mirror.

At first, he was going to look into it there and then, but a murmur from Fauve reminded him just how bright the light from within it shone when it was used. He did not want to wake her up. He got up and walked until he was hidden in the shadows with thick trees on all sides of him, and then he spoke to the mirror.

"I wish to see the princess, please."

The magical light that suddenly burst forward from the glass was enough to temporarily blind any man, but Chip was used to it by now. His eyes never left the mirror as he waited for the image to clear in front of him.

There she was! Raisse!

Looking at her now, it seemed a near-eternity since he'd seen her. His heart ached, and he realised how much he missed her, and everything about her.

In the mirror, she was sitting on the floor, wide awake and alone. He smiled with relief when he saw that she appeared in good health, despite her situation. She was afraid—he could see it in her eyes—but beneath that was the stubborn mind and determination that made Raisse who she was. They could never take her spirit away from her, he knew that.

That did not mean she was out of danger. Not at all. In fact, he knew very well that her quick tongue and even quicker temper were just likely to increase it. He prayed she hadn't said or done anything foolish in the last month.

"Where are you?" he heard himself whisper, so quiet that the rustle of the trees threatened to drown him out. "Tell me where you are."

Of course, he did not expect an answer. As marvellous as the mirror was, it was not intended as a means of conversation. Nonetheless, he continued,

"What do I need to do, Raisse? How can I find you?"

She does not even know that I am searching for her. She does not know that anyone is searching for her…Jesu, I hope she's ok.

Suddenly, he could no longer bare the thought of her trapped and alone anymore. He had to find her! If only he knew how….

Of course! That was it! The answer had been in front of him the whole time! Chip looked one last time upon the face of the princess, and then asked another request of the mirror.

"Show me Raisse's captor."

Once again, the mirror burst into life, sending tiny, twisting strands of light travelling over the surface and down the handle. The brightness cleared, and Chip peered anxiously at the glass.

Nothing.

There was nothing. The mirror remained blank. Chip tried again. Perhaps his instruction was not clear.

"Show me who has taken the princess."

The time the mirror did nothing whatsoever. It just showed his reflection; a reflection he could hardly see for darkness anyway.

"Work, curse you!" shouted Chip, while vigorously shaking it and hitting it against his palm. Unsurprisingly, this had no effect. For one terrible moment, he thought he'd broken it.

"Show me Raisse!" he shouted with some urgency. The mirror obeyed. Once again, the image of the princess shone in front of him.

"What am I doing wrong?" he said to the trees, all the time examining the mirror for clues.

"What kind of mirror is it?" said a voice from behind him. Chip whirled round, concealing the mirror behind his back as he did so.

"Fauve? I thought you were asleep!" he exclaimed at the sight of her looking at him quizzically from between an unknown shrub and a mossy tree stump.

"I was," she said, calmly. "Is it an enchanted one?"

"I…I," he stammered. "Why?"

She smirked at his expression and raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"If it's a magic mirror, and from your reaction, I think I can assume that it is, then sometimes they cannot show you everything."

"What do you mean?"

"Certain…beings can conceal themselves from mirrors with spells. Any creature that is magical…enchanters, wizards, demons…they can shield themselves with the simplest of hexes. It depends who made the mirror. Can I see?"

She moved towards him and held out her hand. Instinctively, he stepped backwards, gripping the mirror tighter.

"How do you know all this?" he demanded.

"My mother, remember? She had a whole library about magic…I was telling you this yesterday!"

"You were?"

She smiled, feigning impatience. "Yesterday? Right before we ate. I was cooking rabbit stew and telling you about my mother."

Chip struggled to remember. He had been distracted obviously…oh, that's right, He had not been listening because he had been thinking about his own mother. Thinking, wondering, wishing…

Fauve's voice cut into his thoughts. "It does not matter. I can tell you why it is not showing you whatever it is you want it to if you let me see it."

Chip searched her eyes, looking for any sign of deceit or malice. There was none, only mild annoyance. Slowly, he brought it out from behind his back and gave it to her.

"Thank-you," she said, her lips curling into a shy smile. He watched as she inspected the back of it, running her fingers over the grooves and notches engraved in the silver.

"Ah…see here?"

She beckoned him over. He walked and stood behind her, looking at the mirror over her shoulder. The silver shone in the moonlight, highlighting her finger as she pointed to what appeared to be a group of numbers etched into the metal.

"This is one of the older kinds of mirrors. Its sight can be easily blocked by a counter-spell. The most basic of wizards can cast them. More powerful creatures, such as demons, can block mirrors with a blink."

She looked at Chip with a vacant expression.

"So which one are you trying to see, I wonder?"

He didn't answer. He was desperately trying to decide whether to tell her everything or not. Suddenly, he needed to share it all with somebody and have help carrying the burden meant for his back alone, but he had known Fauve for barely seven days and nights, and the fact that she knew more about magic than him…was that a aide or a warning? He watched her as she absently turned the mirror over and realised too late that the image of Raisse was still in the glass. Once again, it seemed he was powerless to stop the inevitable. He saw Fauve's eyes widen at what she saw, and then narrow in concentration.

"I know her, I've seen her before somewhere," she murmured, more to her own memory than anyone else. Chip rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired.

"Her name is Raisse."

"Rai…sse", said Fauve, still apparently struggling to recognise the girl in the mirror, though her portrait hung in every city in France. Chip was just about to invent an elaborate story about Raisse being his sister, when Fauve understood.

"The princess? She's the princess, is she not? Princess Raisse!" she gasped, as something clicked in her brain. "You're…searching for the princess."

It was a statement, not a question. Chip still said nothing and kept his eyes on the ground. Better for her to draw her own conclusions than for him to offer any information. That way, he would not let anything slip that he needn't. Fauve was silent too, as she continued to stare at the mirror in an otherwise narcissistic manner. Then, she slowly walked over to one side where several rocks of all shapes and sizes lay strewn among the tree trunks, and began to hunt for something.

"Fauve?"

She was making him nervous. She said nothing, and he wondered if she knew. Suddenly, she turned round. In her left hand, she held a small, jagged rock. In her right, was the mirror, which she carefully placed face-up on a large smooth-topped rock nearby. She raised her left hand, until the rock grasped in her fingers was held precariously two feet above the mirror. With sheer horror, Chip realised what she was about to do, and was only stopped from shouting and rushing towards her by the look in her eyes. She held his gaze and he saw intense fear. Controlled, but unmistakable nonetheless. He'd managed to make yet another woman afraid of him without trying, though he was struggling with why this time.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "Tell me the truth or I'll smash it into a thousand pieces, so help me God!"

"What?" Chip was baffled. "I've told you the truth. Every word!"

"Not all of it! Magic mirrors, secret quests to save royalty, making fire from air…"

"What fire?" Chip turned to look at the one she'd made earlier that evening.

"The one you made before. I've been tracking you, so don't lie! It stank of magic. Who are you really?"

She raised her arm higher as if to emphasise her question. Chip's temper chose that moment to make an appearance. He was tired and upset, and the only person who he allowed to talk to him in such a manner was the princess…and battling with some bar wench in a forest was getting him no nearer to finding her.

"You chose to accompany me, not I you. I owe you nothing, least of all an explanation. Give me my mirror."

He walked towards her, his arm outstretched, his eyes as cold and piercing as he could make them.

"I mean it!" she practically screeched, and he could see her arm was shaking, but she still brandished the mirror like a weapon.

"Don't be an idiot, Fauve. The life of the princess and the fate of the kingdom depend on me. I have no time to waste."

"Then don't waste it! Just tell me…please?" she pleaded. "I want to help you, but I need to know."

"Give me the mirror and I'll tell you."

She stood her ground, clearly determined to win this battle of wills, though her resolve was weakening. It was his eyes that were weakening her. They were a deep, angry blue on the surface, but underneath that, she could see sadness, confusion and honesty. As if to confirm this, he said. "I promise I'll tell you what I can. I just need the mirror."

He was close to her now, so close that she could see the fine lines around his eyes—lines that should not exist on such a young man. She could see the hardened skin on his hands, the movement of his throat as he swallowed. She wanted—no, needed—to know more. She gave him the mirror, and then leant against a tree, muttering to herself,

"I never could carry out my threats."

She saw Chip holding the mirror in his hand like it was most the precious object in the world.

"She's pretty," she said, enviously. She knew that she herself was attractive, but not in the fair, delicate way that the princess was. Chip said nothing, but carefully put the mirror through a loophole on his belt.

"So, you're her…what? Affianced, intended…."

"I'm not her suitor, if that's what you mean" he said sharply, and perched himself upon the rock she would have smashed the mirror on. "I'm her friend. I've known her since the day she came into this world."

"Oh," said Fauve, sensing that there was more to that statement than he let on. "You must care about her a lot."

"I do."

A heavy silence lingered in the air. Fauve decided it was time to change the topic of conversation.

"So, have you had magical powers all of your life?"

Chip sighed and rubbed his head as though it hurt to think.

"I don't know, not for sure. They just seem to happen. Sometimes I'm in control, other times…other times I'm not. The fire…I couldn't start one with the usual methods, so I just…thought about one and it happened."

"Could you start one now?"

He paused. "I think so."

Fauve almost expected the ground around them to burst into flame there and then, but the forest remained still.

"What else can you do?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. I haven't really tried anything else." He decided that she did not need to know about what he'd done to Raisse. "After I lit the fire, I felt like I could do anything. I wanted to do anything, but…"

"But what? If I could do magic, I'd do it all the time."

"I'm afraid." There, he'd said it. "I'm scared of what would happen, of what I could do. I could lose control, I could lose myself, I could lose everything."

"Or…you could master it and use it to rescue the princess, and save the kingdom. Is that not also a possibility?"

Chip thought about this for a moment. He'd never actually seen it that way before. Perhaps his powers were meant to help. After all, the prophecies…he'd stopped them happening so far. Maybe…maybe his powers were the key to finding Raisse!

"I could help you," offered Fauve. "I've read so many books on it; I'm bound to know something useful."

"Yes," murmured Chip. "Yes! Let's do that!"

Suddenly, he leapt to his feet, new excitement shining in his eyes. He smiled at Fauve, who looked astonished at his sudden change of heart. It felt so good to finally have someone to talk to about it. At last, he had somebody to share the burden with. At last, he had a sense of direction and purpose. He no longer felt tired; he wanted to start straight away, He grabbed Fauve's hand before she could protest and led her out of the clearing to the riverbank where the moon was brightest and the noises of the forest could not reach them.

"Tell me," he begged her. "Tell me everything you know."

And it was there, at that moment, on that night with a girl he barely knew, that Chip finally embraced the magic within him.