WE LEFT PORTH Llaffan early the next morning, on the newly-running ferry that went to Slurry Quay. Stella was the only one of us who wasn't glad to be on the move.

"Well, if you'd ever told me I'd be using some mortal's ship to get about the place, I would have called you a bear-faced liar! Grr!"

She crossed her arms grumpily, glaring out at the water. I rolled my eyes. If Erik wasn't finding anything to complain about, the faerie certainly shouldn't have tried.

Anyway, the faerie's grumpy mood and even the head-reeling shock of my dream the night before weren't quite enough to put me in a bad mood. The weather was back to being beautiful – it had to be about twenty-five Celsius – and it was sunny, with just a little bit of a breeze.

As we sailed across the channel between Newid Isle and the mainland, I leaned against the side of the boat, thinking. Aegil had been right. My powers were getting stronger. I didn't know why. I wondered if that was why the songs had disappeared.

And I wondered about Aegil. If I was right, if she was my mother, what did that mean? All I really knew about my mum was that she had looked like me and she'd died not long after I was born. Dad hadn't liked to talk about her, and neither of us had liked talking to each other. It had always been more trouble than it was worth trying to press him for information. If my mum was a Faerie…

It would probably explain a lot, I thought wryly. Like why I could see ghosts and Celestrians and faerie's and Erik's phantom wings and halo. And why I could sense emotions. But it was just such a strange idea. What did it mean?

My mind was going around in circles, distracting me to the point that when the guy at the helm started talking, I didn't notice until Cristine nudged me. Then I nearly jumped out of my skin and hoped I wasn't flushing as I started paying attention.

"…Word in the taverns is there's a beauty of a vessel down in Bloomingdale just sitting there with no one using here." He smiled knowingly. We thanked him for taking us over and got off the boat.

Slurry Quay was tiny, no more than a dock, a few barrels, an inn, and a little store out on a mat. Reluctant as I was to let go of too much money – we'd earnt money fighting monsters, but only just enough to keep us in food and make sure we could sleep indoors at night – but since it was just a couple pairs of shoes, I saw no point in pinching pennies. So, when we left Slurry Quay, the previously barefoot Erik had a pair of galvanised geta, and I had a new pair of rubber boots. My old leather ones had been falling apart at the seams and a little too small besides.

Cristine sighed. "Looks like we're stuck going to Dourbridge next," she said. "I don't think there's any way to avoid it if we want to get to Bloomingdale."

"What exactly is Dourbridge?" Erik asked, raising an eyebrow at Cristine's tone.

"The only place in the world where I favour modesty over practicality," I said grimly. "Come on. It's a straight shot across town to get out, and from there only a couple hours' walk to Bloomingdale."

Dourbridge was a grimy city full of has-been criminals and blokes on the run from the law. Cristine and I had been more times than I liked to think about, and we'd tried not to stay any longer than possible. We'd tried performing there once, but unfortunately by that point, we had hit puberty and actually looked like girls. The men had been more interested in watching us dance than in the play, and I'd had to punch several overly friendly fans so that we could get out of the city.

Erik's expression when he saw the city was honestly funny. I wasn't used to the griminess, but I at least knew to expect it. Clearly, he didn't. He looked revolted.

"What did we tell you?" Cristine said, hiding a smile and a little giggle. "Come on. Just across the bridge and we'll be out of here."


The grimy city was enough to remind Erik of everything he disliked about mortals. The place was disgusting, like the residents had left every bit of filth ever produced to lie about and decompose on its own. A thick, sluggish river wound its way through the city, clogged with debris and pollution. Erik was revolted, but it relieved him slightly to know that he was not the only one. Tammy, Cristine, and Nick seemed disgusted by the city, as well.

Halfway across the bridge – halfway to being free from the grimy confines of Dourbridge – a transparent, bluish figure materialised, looking out over the city. Beside him, Tammy stiffened.

"It's her," she whispered. "The girl from the clearing."

Erik looked at Tammy, and then at the girl, and realised she was right. Little of the ghost's figure was visible under the dark cloak she wore, but her despairing, worn-down posture was unmistakeable. Nick and Cristine had stopped, looking at them oddly.

"No…" murmured the ghost sadly. "Not here, either." She turned and saw Erik and Tammy staring at her. "Huh? S-Surely…"

She half-glided over, looking at each of them closely. There was a long pause, and then she shook her head. "No… No, it can't be…" She threw one last look at Erik, and headed west. "What am I thinking, mistaking a traveller for a Celestrian like that…?"

Erik and Tammy exchanged glances. Tammy looked as though she had tears in her eyes, Erik realised suddenly, and remembered what she had told him in Porth Llaffan. The mortal girl was an empath. Whatever had the ghost in such a state of despair must have worn on Tammy's mind, as well.

"Haven't I seen that fashion abomination somewhere before?" Stella wondered aloud. She looked after the now-dematerialised ghost, and then shrugged. "Oh well. Never mind. You've got fyggs to be finding, right? Well, let's hope your search is fruitful! Ha!"

Tammy cleared her throat. "Right," she said. "I, er, I thought I saw something. Never mind. Come on – let's get out of here."

Nick and Cristine looked at each other, but followed along without complaining. And soon enough, they were out of Dourbridge and back on their journey through the Protectorate.


I could feel curiosity burning from Nick and Cristine as we headed south towards the Lonely Plains, but I tried to ignore it. It wasn't like I had any idea what to tell them, anyway.

As we crossed the bridge, Cristine glanced over at the mountain looming to the east. "Hey," she said. "What do you say we go visit old man Mason? His house isn't far."

I glanced over, too. "Yeah," I said. "Could be a good idea. I don't reckon the guy gets much company."

"Who's old man Mason?" Nick asked.

"This old stoneworker who lives at the base of the Heights of Loneliness," Cristine said, jerking her head towards the mountain closest to us. "Tammy and I have visited him a few times. He's nice enough, if a bit obsessed with his craft."

Nick shrugged. "I'm game," he said. "Erik?"

"Mm," Erik said, regarding the mountain for a moment. Then he shrugged. "I can see no harm in it."

"All right, then," Cristine said, smiling. "Let's go!"

Soon, we had reached a clearing at the foot of the Heights of Loneliness. Mason's little cottage sat off to the side. Chunks of stone lay scattered about the place along with the usual dozen or so half-finished projects.

I knocked on the cottage door. "Mr Mason?" I called. "Mr Mason, it's Tammy."

No response. I knocked louder and got the same result. I glanced back at Cristine and the others, who all shrugged. So I turned the knob and let us all in.

Mason wasn't there, and I realised as I looked around that he hadn't been there for some time. Dust had settled in a light layer over everything. The four of us exchanged glances nervously. Something was wrong.

Looking around, I realised that there was a notebook open on the desk. I moved over to read it, feeling a bit like I was intruding but hoping for a clue. On the page facing us, there was a journal entry in Mason's small, spidery writing.

It was an eternity ago. I told my poor sweetheart I'd be back in five years, and then set off on my travels. All I cared about was learning to work stone. Five years passed in the blink of an eye, but I barely noticed. When I finally made it back home, it was to find out that she'd gone and married another man. Och, that was an eternity ago, though. I'm an old man now. That was back in my younger days. I'm heading north to Zere Rocks. I doubt I'll be back at this hut again.

I looked up, running a hand through my hair. As the others finished reading, I felt their concern joining mine.

"We need to go up and find him," Cristine said, looking worried. "Zere Rocks is all the way at the top of the mountain – who knows what could have happened to him on the way up?"

So we left the clearing, heading north towards the Heights of Loneliness.

Cristine and I knew the way up to Zere Rocks – Mason had let us go up there with him once to see his project. As we went through the upward-sloping tunnels and, later, up vines and across them like they were tightropes, I marvelled that the old man had been able to haul himself up to the top again and again. The four of us were all in good condition from fighting and travelling, but it was still hard work. My main problem was with the vines. Nick didn't seem to have much trouble with them, and Cristine was basically dauntless about climbing and gymnastics, but my thoughts tended to sprint ahead of my instincts. And Erik didn't seem to be having an easy time of it, either. Thinking about what he'd said about falling from the Observatory, I decided he had an excuse - but I didn't. So I just sucked it up and trembled my way up and across the vines.

Fortunately, we were soon back inside the mountain. It was only about fifteen minutes after that when we came out on the top and headed round the path to Zere Rocks. I was curious to see how it looked. The last time Cristine and I had been here had been nearly a year and a half previous. I imagined that a man as dedicated to his craft as Mason would have gotten a lot of work done during that time.

And I was proved right. We all stopped in amazement at the entrance to Zere Rocks and stared around at a flawless stone reproduction of Zere, down to every knot in the big centre tree.

"Whoa," breathed Nick. "How is this even possible?"

"Mason's a genius," Cristine murmured. "I knew he was good, but… This is beyond anything I would have pictured."

But, despite the amazingness of the stone village, something seemed wrong. It was too still. If Mason had been here, there should have been noise – a chisel, or a hammer, or something. There was no sign of life anywhere.

"This isn't right," I murmured. Then, louder, "Come on. Mason has to be round here somewhere."

But he wasn't. Within a minute, we'd searched the whole village, and found nothing but more painstakingly detailed statues. The last place to search was the only house with the insides carved out: the one where, in the real Zere, we'd found Simona's old nursemaid and the woman named Petra.

When we peered through the doorway, I saw more incredibly detailed statues and the sole other living thing in the village: a small slime.

"No way, this one's even got all the insides carved out properly as well… What's the deal with this place? Someone's left no stone unturned in turning everything to stone…" Stella looked around, and then at Erik. "Hang on, Erik… I'm having a backflash…"

I hid a snort.

"Haven't we seen all this somewhere?" Stella continued, oblivious. "We went somewhere like this a while back. Somewhere with a gimongous tree bang-slap in the middle of town…"

Erik rolled his eyes, but before I could say anything, another voice piped up: the slime's.

"Who are you?" it asked, slurping, and we all looked at it in shock. "What are you going here?"

We looked at each other, and Erik answered, "We were searching for Mr Mason."

The slime brightened up at the name. "Every singoo rock here was carved by Mr Mason, you know," it said. "He did it all on his own. He really stretched himself! It took him years and years to make this village, and then just when he'd finished it, he dropped down dead. What a way to goo!"

The slime was incredibly talkative. I could hardly make out what it was saying, it was talking so quickly. "He was a very frugal man. But in the end he indulged in a gootiful fruit that he'd slupchased in Dourbridge. It was his one extravagoonce ever. Do you know what he told me as he ate it? He said this place was all he had. So it was his wish that it would always remain and never goo squishy. But ever since he gave up the goost, there's –"

A sudden jolt shook the village, but even that didn't made the slime shut up. It squealed and exclaimed, "Th-There it is agoon! I-I've been hearing that petrifying noise ever since!"

Then it hopped away to hide in a corner. I rolled my eyes and moved to the door, caring more about what was going on outside than the slime's terror.

But when we got outside, I realised that it had a bit of an excuse. A tall stone monster was looming outside, yellow eyes gleaming. Stella screeched and flew away, arms and legs flailing.

"Who…are…YOU!?" it demanded in a slow, deep voice that sounded like a rockslide. "You…are…not…Mason… Intruders…!" Its eyes flashed dangerously. "You…will…know…the…wrath…of…Garth…Goyle…Guardian…o f…the…Rocks…!"

"How many unreasonable Guardians does this insignificant little village have?" muttered Erik, and sprang into action. His razor claws made a dreadful scraping noise as he tried to slice into Garth Goyle's rocky skin. I shuddered.

None of our attacks were really useful against him. Even Cristine's and my spells had little effect – wind and ice didn't seem to bother the monster much. Erik's claws looked to be bending. Nick's staff didn't even seem to faze him.

That didn't stop us, of course. Cristine and I both resorted to Hot Lick, and the flames, at least, seemed to cause damage. Nick shifted his focus to healing and preventative measures like Buff. Erik, starkly determined to damage the stone monster even with bent claws, was almost savage in his attacks. He managed once to stab the claws into Garth Goyle's gleaming yellow eyes, causing it to screech in pain and stumbled backwards.

Now it was angry at Erik. Rearing up, it glared at him past the blood dripping from its eyes. I realised what was going to happen and acted unthinkingly, leaping in front of Erik and lashing out with my whip as Garth Goyle brought a heavy stone claw down at his head.

A barrage of emotions flooded though me, and a thought flashed through my head: Oh, crap. I'm going to die.

And then the claw hit me square on. There was an instant of pain, and then everything went black.


"Tammy!" shouted Cristine as the minstrel girl leapt in front of Erik. The monster's claw snapped Tammy's whip clean in two, and then continued on to catch her right on her head. Erik caught her as she collapsed. Cristine sent a jet of flame towards Garth Goyle, forcing him back.

Nick immediately went into healer mode, rushing to check Tammy's injuries. It looked bad. Garth Goyle had hit her on top of her head, and the damage hadn't stopped there. There were thick claw marks down her front and gashes in – but fortunately not through – her cuirass.

"Erik, get her back!" he called, whacking his staff into Garth Goyle's leg with all his might. The monster stumbled and fell. Nick and Cristine moved to help Erik.

"We have to get out of here," Cristine said.

Erik glanced at Garth Goyle, at Nick, at Cristine, and finally at Tammy. "I know a way," he said. "Grab hold of my arm."

They did, and he muttered something inaudible. Nick's vision suddenly went black, and he felt like he was being pulled along at tremendous speeds. An instant later, his vision returned, and they were standing just outside of Dourbridge.

Cristine looked at Erik in obvious shock. "How did you –?"

"There is no time," Erik snapped. "Nick, can you heal these?"

Nick looked at the injuries for half a moment and clenched his jaw. "I can certainly try," he said. "But we have to find someplace halfway clean where we can lay her down."

"I know a place," Cristine said. "Come on."

The three of them worked together to manoeuvre the limp Tammy down a ladder, under the bridge, and up a set of stairs to a large tent. It looked like the cleanest thing in town.

"Captain Max," Cristine called as they entered. "Captain Max, do you have a pallet? It's Tammy – she's been through here a few times, you know her – she's injured badly."

The stocky man inside the tent looked around at the four teenagers, seeming bemused. "Yes," he said, "o' course – here." He pulled a mattress out and stepped out of the way as Nick, Erik, and Cristine laid Tammy down on top of it.

"Now," Nick muttered, kneeling down and opening up his satchel. "Let me see…"

He looked at Tammy's injuries again, and then back down at what he had with him. Then he nodded sharply.

"Right," he said. "Magic first, then."

Cristine stayed in place beside the mattress as Nick started working. Erik crouched down several paces away, his face inscrutable. Nick tried to ignore them both as he placed his hands over Tammy's head, where Garth Goyle had first made contact. Guide my work, Almighty, he prayed, and began to heal her.

Gently, he pushed energy out through his palms, feeling for what was damaged and trying to repair it. He focused himself on the inside, knowing that as long as everything vital was in working order, the rest would sort itself out.

"Cristine," he said, not looking up. "Get her cuirass off. It'll get in the way. We need to bandage the claw wounds."

"Got it," Cristine said. Her voice was even quieter than usual. But she set to work, seeming as calm as was possible. Even Erik made himself useful, retrieving bandages from Nick's bag and handing them off to Cristine.

By the time Nick was satisfied that the damage to Tammy's brain was repaired, he was exhausted. He settled back onto his heels and surveyed what still needed to be done.

Her skull seemed to be fractured in several places. The gashes from Garth Goyle's claws were deep and bleeding heavily. They both needed attention, but Nick wasn't convinced he had the energy to deal magically with either issue.

"Cristine," he said again, looking up.

The quiet minstrel glanced away from bandaging her friend's wounds, though she didn't stop working. "Mm?"

"Are you any good at medicinal magic?" He gestured at the gashes and at Tammy's head. "I made sure everything vital was working, but the outside wounds need to be taken care of… I used up a lot of energy repairing her brain. She'll be fine if everything heals on its own, but it'd be much faster if we could at least jump-start the process with a little magic."

Cristine bit her lip, glancing down at Tammy. "I'm not an expert," she said slowly, "but I ought to be able to do a little. What's more pressing?"

Nick made a judgement call. "Her skull," he said. "The bones at least need to be set so that they'll heal properly. If you can do that, we'll be good."

"Okay," Cristine said, setting her jaw determinedly. "I know how everything fits together. You'll keep working on the bandages with Erik?"

Nick nodded, moving out of the way so that Cristine could have easier access to Tammy's head. Erik took Cristine's position beside Tammy, dealing with the bandages as though he'd had years of experience. For what was certainly not the first time, Nick found himself wondering about the silver-haired martial artist. From the way he usually dealt with trouble, it would seem that he was an experienced traveller, yet he hadn't known what Dourbridge was. He was strangely formal, but somehow condescending. And yet that was changing – as the four of them travelled together, he seemed almost to be developing silent respect for Tammy, Cristine, and Nick.

This whole group of people was strange, really, he reflected, silently helping Erik with the bandages. Tammy was antisocial in a way completely different from Erik. The two of them seemed to hate each other most of the time, and yet they seemed similar. And Cristine…

Nick glanced up briefly to see Cristine, hands resting gently on Tammy's head, bright green eyes squeezed shut in concentration. Her brown ringlets were falling over her bare shoulders and down onto her dress. She was quiet, usually cheerful, but there was something almost fragile about her. For some reason, Nick felt protective about her. He was sure she wouldn't like the idea – she was an independent girl, for all her daydreams and femininity – but he felt it nonetheless.

She was quite pretty, he supposed – petite, graceful, slim, with fair skin and a smooth, heart-shaped face... Her big green eyes, usually seeming to be on the verge of a laugh; her figure lithe from dancing and travelling…

And then Nick gave himself a mental shake, trying to banish the unintentional thought train and returning his attention to the task at hand. Someone was injured. It was his job to make sure she healed. It was not his job to daydream about Cristine.


When Nick declared Tammy well enough for them to leave off healing, Cristine settled back into a crouch, feeling tired. She'd been able to do what she'd needed to and even more, but it had taken its toll. She wasn't an experienced healer. The energy it took to repair someone's body was more immense than she'd expected.

Captain Max agreed to let them stay in his tent while Tammy healed the rest of the way, so while she slept off her injuries, the other three gathered into a small semicircle beside her mattress. Max left them alone. Unlike the other residents of Dourbridge, the old pirate had some sense of when and when not to poke his nose into other people's affairs.

They were all quiet for a minute. Erik was looking at Tammy, expression as inscrutable as always; Nick seemed to be thinking about something; Cristine was torn between concern for Tammy and confidence in Nick's predictions that she'd be fine in a few days. She did trust Nick, a lot; he never pressed her to talk about anything she wasn't ready for, and there was something about him that she just innately felt comfortable about. Maybe it was the fact that he was all but a priest – after all, not trusting a priest was difficult. She didn't know.

She sighed quietly as her thoughts turned towards the fygg things they were gathering. She'd seen enough of them to know that they were dangerous – and that they were probably behind whatever was going on with Mason and that Garth Goyle monster. But she didn't know much about them, really. And, she realised, she was extremely curious.

Looking back at Erik, she bit her lip. Then she said, "Erik…"

He jumped a little and looked at her. "Yes?"

Cristine hesitated, but now that she'd started there wasn't really a way to back out of it. Of course, that didn't mean it came out smoothly.

"It just… I, er… I was wondering… What is it that's so special about those fygg things? Why are they so important?"

Now it was Erik's turn to hesitate. "It…it is as I told you," he said. "I was asked to retrieve them by an old acquaintance of mine."

"Yeah, but why?" Nick asked. "Cristine's not the only curious one. Those things seem dangerous. What are they?"

Erik almost seemed a little flustered. "They… I do not… Wait," he said. "I…I will explain once Tammy awakens." He frowned. "If that is my only option."

"I think it will be," Cristine said. "You have to understand, Erik, we'll help you whether you tell us or not, but I at least want to know what it is we're risking our lives to find. Tammy's already paying for all of this." She cast a worried glance at her friend, who was lying still on the mattress. At least she knew why – Nick had given her a potion that would help her to sleep while she recovered a bit more thoroughly.

"Very well," Erik said, looking at Tammy himself. Then he pushed up off the floor. "I will return before she wakes."

And he left the tent.


I woke up slowly, feeling sluggish. My head ached and my midsection hurt, too. But, considering the damage I remembered sustaining, that seemed like practically nothing.

I decided to open my eyes to see where I'd ended up. Above me, I saw peach and mauve cloth, held up by slim wooden poles. Ah. Captain Max.

"Tammy! You're awake!" exclaimed Cristine. I blinked and sat up. Cristine, Nick, and Erik were sitting beside me. Erik had something on his lap.

"Er, yeah," I said. "Why? Have I been out all that long?"

Nick shrugged. "Depends what you mean by long. It's about noon."

I raised my eyebrows. "Really?" I asked. "I would have thought it had been longer."

Nick laughed. "Noon on Tuesday," he told me.

"Oh. You could have told me that in the first place." I tried to do the math. It couldn't have been much later than eleven o'clock yesterday morning that we had encountered Garth Goyle. Jeez. Why do I keep sleeping for so long?

Then I swallowed. "What…did anyone happen to see what happened to my whip?"

Cristine bit her lip. That was all the confirmation I needed.

"Darn it," I muttered, slumping forwards. It was stupid, but I felt sad about it breaking. I'd had that thing for five years, and it had never once let me down.

"Sorry, Tammy," Cristine said. "But I think Erik got you something."

I blinked and looked at him in surprise. "Huh?"

"Er, yes," Erik said, fidgeting slightly. "This."

He handed me the long, cloth-wrapped bundle that had been on his lap. I took it and unwrapped part of the cloth to reveal a red-and-gold hilt. My eyes went wide.

"A cautery sword?" I asked, incredulous. "Erik, I… Not to sound ungrateful, but…er…why?"

He rolled his eyes. "The very essence of gratitude," he said, but he didn't sound as offended as I'd have thought. He was almost smiling. "I feel that you would be more effective if you did not keep yourself at such distance."

I blinked and looked at him. But he didn't seem to realise that those words seemed to echo what Aegil had told me both times I'd been to the Faerie forest. Of course not. How could he – I never told him! I never told anyone.

"Right," I said. "I… Thanks, Erik." I bit my lip. "Is it going to sound really rude if I tell you that I'm not sure we could have afforded to buy something like this?"

"Jeez, Tammy!" laughed Cristine. "It's a gift. Relax a little!"

I smiled. "You're right, I suppose," I said. "Thanks again. I won't say another word, I promise."

"I should hope not," Erik said. I rolled my eyes at him pointedly. He snorted. Cristine, Nick, and I laughed.

Then Nick cleared his throat. "Right, then," he said, looking at Erik. "Now that she's awake…I think it's time you explained about the fyggs."

"Ah," said Erik uncomfortably, "yes. The fyggs." He glanced at me, and I knew what he was trying to say: if I am to tell them about me, you are to do the same about yourself. I swallowed and nodded.

It was time for some secrets to be revealed.


So, hi again! I guess things can get done quickly...the weather hasn't been all that May-like this weekend, so staying inside is no hardship. And working on this story is a lot easier than trying to get through writer's block on my next original one!

Anyway, I really hope you don't hate me for leaving the chapter off here. I know I don't always like it when that happens, but I can at least understand why - sometimes the cliff edge is the best place to leave something. But don't worry, things will sort themselves out. I can't wait to see the reactions Nick and Cristine will have to this!

Til next week (I hope it's not longer!): may all the bodies of the heavens watch over you!