Walker

After eighteen years of bloody conflict, Prytyn is finally at peace. The Dark One has been driven back to the hell which spawned him, and a Baneworthy once again sits upon the Ivory Throne...

The clock struck midnight. No one seemed to notice, except me. The partygoers laughed, sang, danced and toasted the king, sometimes all at the same time.  Knights gave demonstrations of their heroics in the last battle, waving breadsticks in place of swords.  Someone had erected an effigy of the Dark One, complete with bulging red eyes, blood stained fangs and a long nose.  Drunken revellers took turns pelting the dummy with food. Those who struck the target dead center were rewarded with kisses from gushing young ladies, many of whom were in diapers the last time a party such as this  was held in Prytyn's royal palace.

King Garic III, known to his close companions as Walker because of his habit of pacing for hours on end, was drinking freely from a golden wine goblet. His face was flushed. He leaned sideways in his chair to share a private remark with his bride. Her reply must have been witty, because he threw back his head and laughed. His sapphire eyes sparkled in the candlelight.

Abruptly, I turned away and left the great hall. The guard at the foot of the stairs snapped to attention when he saw me. He smelled of wine and was none too steady on his feet. I could not blame him for wanting to join in the celebration. He was lucky to be alive. Many young soldiers had not survived the  final engagement between the king's troops and those of the usurper.

With a sigh, I began the long climb up the dimly lit stairs which lead to my tower.The final battle was over, but my work was far from done. Though the Dark One had fled, there were residual spells to be countered, haunts to be sent back to the grave. One of the latter confronted me in the darkened hall outside my  room. A small Blood Terror, it was easily dispelled by a wave of the yew wand which I carried in place of a sword.

"Back to sleep, little ghost," I murmured absently. In my mind's eye, I was watching Walker celebrate in the Great Hall below. In all the years I had known him, he had never touched a drop of wine or ale. He said he needed to keep a clear head, if he was to regain the throne which the Dark One had stolen from his father.

The years of self denial had paid off. Prytyn was free. It should have been a time of joy, yet I was troubled. Something was not right. Did the Dark One leave a deadly trap for his successor? On arriving at the castle, I had searched the building from top to bottom and from bottom to top and found nothing. However the hairs on the back on my arms were standing on end, a sign of impending trouble.

I closed my eyes and concentrated. As per my instructions, every door in the castle was ajar. This, plus a careful arrangement of mirrors and lamps, allowed me to explore the entire fortress in the time it took for lightening to strike and fade.

Nothing.

Winded by my efforts, I sagged against the wall. I was not as young as I once was. None of us were. Even the prince--king, I amended quickly--had a few gray hairs hidden among the gold.

Once inside my tower room, I threw off my formal black robes and stuffed the ridiculous peaked magician's hat under the bed.  Both were gifts from the king. He said it would reassure  his subjects,  if they could see that he had a "real magician" at his side.

The mirror beside the door beckoned me, like a scab itching to be picked, but I resisted the urge to look at my own reflection. Why bother? I already knew what I would see. Mine was not the kind of face that made children cry, but it was close. Never pretty even when young, my features were now marred by a puckered scar which ran from my left temple to jaw. The purple ridge of tissue pulled my mouth into a permanent half sneer and made it impossible for me to completely open my left eye.

I received the wound during my first sorcerous battle. It was almost my last. The fire bolt was aimed at Walker and would have killed him had I not intervened. Ever since that day, the prince had counted me among his inner circle of advisers and protectors, so I considered myself well compensated for the scar. However, sometimes, I found myself wishing that my hair was not quite so wiry or my skin was slightly less dark. And why did my left leg drag when I walked? I could summon thunderstorms and banish demons. Was there no magic that would let me walk without a limp?

My gaze strayed to the table by the window, which was covered with tall stacks of books, the Dark One's private library, left behind when he fled the castle in the wake of Garic's advancing army. Was there some spell contained within those pages that would make me more attractive? A simple illusion to deceive the eye?

Whose eye do you wish to deceive? my conscience demanded. The one you love is wed to another. Put such thoughts from your mind.

I lit a candle with a snap of my fingers and set to work, looking for the counter spells that would rid Garic's castle of the final vestiges of the Dark One's magic. At first, I attributed my slowly growing headache to eye strain from reading the small, cramped print. However, the use of magnifying spectacles provided no relief.

Finally, after staring at the same page for over an hour, I laid the book aside and opened the window. It was a clear, spring night. An auspicious sign. Why was I so tense?

A shrill scream shattered the stillness. To those celebrating in the castle's Great Hall, it would have seemed little more than a bird's cry. However, my tower was located directly above the royal chambers.

Heart pounding, I hurried downstairs. The door to Garic's room was wide open. The king stood panting, his silk and lace finery disheveled and splattered with blood. The enchanted sword, Starlight was in his hand. Sealed within the blade was a sliver of wood from the oldest tree in the elven =46orest, a powerful relic which allowed the one wielding the sword to kill creatures of darkness. It could kill ordinary mortals, too, but it only glowed, as it was glowing now, when it had feasted upon Dark energy.

At the king's feet, a naked dark elf woman breathed her last, then died from the gaping wound in her chest. She was comely, as her kind often were, with ripe, round breasts, a narrow waist, and soft, inviting hips. Her silky black hair was spread out on the carpet , forming a dark halo around her head.

"What happened?" I demanded. Without giving him a chance to speak, I answered my own question. "An assassin. Where's her weapon? Are you injured?"

Roughly, he threw off my hand. His breath reeked of wine "I killed her," he whispered hoarsely.

"I can see that. Where are your guards? I told them not to leave you unattended. When I get my hands on them--"

"I sent them away."

"You did what?"

"I sent them away." Abruptly, he threw down his sword and covered his face with his hands. "You've got to help me. There's a demon inside of me."

I took his words literally and began mumbling the spell of exorcism.

"Not that kind of demon!" His speech was slurred. "She wasn't an assassin. She was a common street whore. I saw her today in the crowd, during my coronation. I had the guards bring her here to wait , until I could find a chance to slip away from the feast. She and I---she and I---" He choked on the words. "Afterwards, a rage filled me. I killed her."

My blood froze in my veins. I wanted to blame this latest tragedy on the Dark One. However, there was no hint of enchantment hanging over Walker. Was it the wine? Some men were known to do terrible things while under the influence of alcohol.

"This isn't the first time such a thing has happened to me," he whispered.

Bile rose in my throat. I struggled for self control.

Someone was approaching. Could it be the young queen? No, these footsteps were made by heavy, booted feet. . "Ah, Charc, it's you." I breathed a sigh of relief. The old man had been Walker's guardian and adviser, since the night when the old king was killed, and the young prince fled into exile. Charc knew Walker better than anyone. He would know what to do.

Charc's deep set brown eyes took in the dead woman, the bloodstained sword and Walker's tear streaked face. "An assassin?" he asked.

"He says not. And it's not the first time, either, if he's to be believed, though I pray it's the drink talking---"

I never saw it coming. For an old man, Charc could move fast. One moment, he was kneeling beside the dead elf. The next , he was striking me across the back of the head with the king's sword. He used the blunt edge, thankfully, or I would not be here to tell this story. The blow sent me reeling. As I fell to my knees, the room spinning around me, my head exploding with lights and pain, I heard Walker gasp

"Why did you do that?"

"The mage knows too much," Charc replied.

Then, the world went dark...

I woke to darkness and silence. My blood was frozen in my veins, my heart was still.

This must be death, I thought.

Comforted by this knowledge, I returned to sleep.

I woke to darkness and silence. My limbs were made of lead, my ears were full of cotton, my tongue was a piece of dead meat within the dusty cavity that was my mouth.

Still dead, thank God.

I sank back into oblivion.

I woke to darkness and the nagging little worry that something had been left undone.

Leave me alone!

I felt the sunlight before I saw it. The back of my right hand began to tingle. A minute pulse of blood shot through the index finger, which twitched.

All at once, my muscles spasmed painfully. My chest heaved, laboring for air that was not there. I began to struggle. My right arm broke free. As it rose from the earth, it was grasped between two strong, warm hands.

"Hold on!" The words were muffled. "I'll have you out in a few minutes."

In a few minutes? My chest was on fire. If I did not get fresh air now, I would explode. Where was I? What was this damp, black, gritty substance that filled my mouth and nostrils and held me pinned like a fly in amber? Could it be---? Dear God, had they buried me alive?

For a mage, knowledge is power. Once I understood the nature of my prison, it was a simple thing to free myself. The earth around me heaved, like a wild horse attempting to throw a rider. The ground split. Clean, sunlit air filled my lungs, along with a generous portion of dirt. I choked, coughed and took another breath, then another.

"Guess I won't be needing this shovel after all," my rescuer murmured.

Something wet touched my lips. Water. I drank one sip, then another. A cool, damp towel cleaned the dirt from my face. My eyes were beginning to adjust to the light. I could make out colors, the blue of the sky, the green of the trees. The face leaning over me was obscured by shadows, but a golden corona of sunlight illuminated long, pointed ears.

"Where am I?" I croaked in Elvish.

"Queen's Meadow," he replied, giving the place its old name. Gently, he daubed at my scar.

Queen's Meadow, known by men as Bleu's Valley, the site of the last battle in the war between the Dark One's army and the rebels lead by Prince Garic. I tried to look around, but I was as weak as a kitten. "Help me sit up."

He was strong for one so slightly built, as elves often were. "Careful."

I gazed around me, expecting to see trampled grass, gouged earth, the rotting corpses of horse and dogs. Instead, I saw a meadow in full bloom with blue lupines, red poppies and a scattering of stone monuments to mark the communal graves of the men and women who died in battle.

I rubbed my eyes and looked again. "This can't be the Valley. I was there. The battle was bloody." My head began to swim.

The elf eased me to the ground and held the water flask to my lips.

"How long?" I asked, after I drank my fill.

"Since the Battle of Bleu's Valley? Nine years."

I should have been surprised, but I was not. Though I had slumbered during most of that time, some part of me was aware. Probably the same part that drew upon the power of the earth to keep my flesh from dying.

My savior sat back on his heels. Now that my eyes were accustomed to daylight, I could see him clearly. He looked twenty, which meant he was probably close to two hundred. His skin and hair were golden brown. His eyes were green. His face seemed vaguely familiar.

He must have seen the question in my eyes. "My name is Weil. I was there when you and the prince came to see my people to request our aid. I wanted to accompany the archers, but they said I was too young." He ducked his head to hide the blush that turned his cheeks crimson.

I revised my initial estimate. Sixty, maybe seventy. A mere babe in elven terms. What was he doing so far from the Forest?

"We need your help!" he blurted out. The boy must have more than a touch of Sight, I realized, to be able to read the thoughts of a trained mage so easily. "It's the King. Your king, not ours. He's----"

It all came back to me. In my mind's eye, I saw the voluptuous dark elf woman, bleeding her life out on the floor of Walker's bed chamber. I heard his voice telling me things I did not want to hear.

"---mad."

I covered my face with my hands and groaned. "I know."

"You know?" The anger in the young elf's voice made me look up. His eyes were blazing. "If you knew what he was, why did you help him?"

"I didn't find out until it was too late. When I did----" I glanced over my shoulder at the open grave.

"He tried to have you killed."

God, how it hurt to hear the words spoken! A knife through the heart would have been kinder. "Why are you here?"

"We need your help."

"We?"

"The elves of Prytyn." He dropped to his knees, his hands raised in supplication. "Garic's soldiers burned the Forest. They claimed the Dark One's minions were hiding there, waiting to launch an attack on the capital =2E Never mind that the Forest won't tolerate anything Dark."

Burned the Forest? The life spring of elven magic in Prytyn? Me head reeled. I closed my eyes and clutched handfuls of grass, trying to regain my equilibrium.

"The elves who survived the fire were herded onto ships. Garic said he was sending my people to the Western Land, where we would be safe, but when the boats were well away from shore, they were torched. A few elves, like me, who can change into flying or swimming creatures survived. The rest burned to death or drowned." He bowed his head, but not quickly enough to hide his tears.

 I had thought myself the most miserable creature on earth, because the man I honored above all others had tried to kill me, but my loss was nothing compared to his.

"It isn't just the elves who've suffered. I'm meeting friends tomorrow tonight. Come with me, and they'll tell you what the King has been up to since you've been gone. You will come, won't you?" He bit his lower lip to stop it from trembling. His wide, green eyes were fixed on my face.

I cast a longing look at the grave. At that moment, dying seemed easier than the task which confronted me. There would be no pain in death, no mixed emotions or divided loyalty. In death, there would be only peace.

It was not fair! I had spent years of my life fighting one kind of war, and now I was being forced to fight another.  However, I had no choice in the matter. I helped place Walker on the throne. If that was  a mistake, it was my responsibility to remedy it.

"Yes," I answered reluctantly. "I'll come."

Among the refugees gathered around the campfire were two elven females, one pale, one brown, both armed with bows, several dwarves who carried axes and clubs, a scattering of men and women and one mysterious stranger who was shrouded from head to toe in black.

The scent of Dark magic was unmistakable. "Who's that?" I nodded my head in the direction of the veiled figure.

The creature uncovered her face. She was unnaturally pale. Her eyes were huge, round, all pupil. Instead of a nose, she had a shallow indentation with two nostrils set above a slit like mouth. Her ears were shaped like those of a bat. Membranous wings connected her arms to her torso.

A child clung to her chest, greedily nursing from one of her six nipples. Though the mother was a full blooded nightwraith, her child appeared human, except for vestigial wings and broad, clawed hands. His age was impossible to guess. Were he fully human, I would have estimated three or four, but like their distant cousins the elves, wraiths matured slowly, meaning he could be as old as ten.

"My name isss Shassasssia," the nightwraith hissed.

Shasasia, the Dark One's paramour. Could the child be his? Rumor had it that before he became master of the Dark, Prince Garric's foe was a mortal mage in the service of the king's father.

"Sit," one of the dwarves suggested with the bluntness that was typical of his race.

I selected a position beside the campfire which would give me a clear view of the nightwraith. Weil sat down beside me. He had brought me a dish of mutton stew and a cup of watered ale. After years of fasting, the food tasted strange to my tongue. However, the golden elf watched me like a hawk until I finished every bite.

"More?" he asked hopefully.

I patted my belly. "If you don't stop forcing food on me, I'm going to be sick."

"You need to build up your strength."

"If I didn't starve to death after being buried alive for close to a decade, a skimpy meal or two won't hurt me."

The brown elf looked from my face to Weil's. "You argue like an old married couple," she giggled.

Weil glared at her.

"You promised us a tale,&qu= ot; the white elf reminded the young male.

"So I did. I found the mage buried in one of the mass graves in Bleu's Valley, just as our informant said," Weil told his companions. He used the common low speech. "The King ordered it done on the night of his coronation, to protect his secret."

The oldest of the dwarves, a broad shouldered male with a patch over his left eye grunted "Welcome, mage. You're the only one with a chance of standing up to the King, now that the elves have been stripped of their power."

The white haired elf glared at him. "The elves aren't the only ones who've been defeated."

The dwarf brandished his club."Who's defeated? Not me. Call me that again, and I'll show you what defeat means, you pasty faced bird-woman."

They began to argue. Since no one appeared to be in charge of the rag tag group, I took control. "Weil said that you would fill me in on what's been happening in Prytyn while I've been away." I pointed to the one eyed dwarf. "You first."

"I'm Edrecht. Used to be a goldsmith, 'fore the King's men took over the mines. Said they'd been told the Dark One's followers were hiding in the underground caverns. Rushed in one day with a couple hundred armed troops. We figured they'd have a look around, see there were no Darkies and leave." He spat into the fire. " 'Twas all a plot to seize the mine. They put my kin in chains. Dwarves working their own mines for the profit of men." He shook his head. "Who would have thought it?"

"At least your mountains still exist." The elven woman turned to me. She had snow white hair and pale blue eyes. Her finally sculpted face revealed little emotion, from which I guessed that she was a mature elf of one or two millennia. "My name is Ellyn. This is Ardwyn. We were on the ship with Weil, when it was set on fire. My animal form is a swan. Hers is a sparrow. We were able to fly to safety, unlike most of our kin." Despite the dreadful nature of her tale, she maintained an icy dignity.

In contrast, her companion, Ardwyn sniffed and blinked back tears. Like Weil, she was very young, which made her seem almost human in her speech and mannerisms. Being unusually plain--for an elf--she could easily pass for a mortal woman, were she to disguise her pointed ears. I stored this fact away for later reference.

Next, the humans told their stories. One woman was a village healer who had been accused of witchcraft. Another was the widow of a wealthy landowner. Royal prosecutors had fabricated evidence that she had poisoned her husband so that the crown could seize her property. Three had joined the small band, because they were disgusted by the King's actions. A fourth claimed to have similar motives, but the Sight told me that he was lying. A spy for the King, most likely. I added another item to my mental list of things to do.

Shasasia was the last to speak. Her voice was so soft that the fire had to be damped, otherwise the sound of its crackling and roaring made it impossible for those of us on the far side of the campfire to hear her. "When the capital fell, those of ussss too frail or slow to escape were taken prisoner. I was big with child, so I could not fly. For almost a year, we languished in the dungeon. I had my child there and almost died, giving birth with no healer to assist me." She kissed her son's head tenderly, before continuing her tale.

"I had resigned myself to living the rest of my life in prison. Then, one night the guards came. They said we were to be freed. They lead ussss upstairs, to an open courtyard. At first, we were jubilant. It was the first time in almost a year that we had seen the stars or breathed fresh air.

"As dawn approached, our happinesss turned to fear. We were surrounded on all sides by a tall iron fence. The doors leading back to the dungeon had been sealed. The gatessss that would have let usss out of the courtyard were also locked. Humans began to gather outside the fence. They jeered and threw things at usss.

"Some tried to climb the fence. Archers shot them down. Worry became panic. Even before the sun rose, my people began to cry for help. Then, the first rays of light touched nightwraith skin. The cries became screams of torment. The air smelled of scorching flesh. Smoke filled the sky. A few--a very few--took advantage of the black shroud that covered the earth, and we made our escape.

"As I flew away, clutching my son in my arms, I glanced back. Surrounding the courtyard on all sides were crowds of human spectators. They had come to see usssss burn. Most of the men and women were laughing or cheering, but many of the children were crying as were one or two of the adultssss. The sight touched me. I had been so close to cursing all mortalsss, forgetting that my child's father was mortal, too." She hugged her child to her breast.

"Who's the father?" I asked, knowing the answer already.

Her eyes were as dark as a moonless night. "The man you called the Dark One. Petyr. He died without seeing his first born."

"Died? You mean he fled."

Shasasia bared her fangs. "Petyr was killed by Charc himself. They were friends once, did you know that? Under guise of friendship, Charc lured Petyr to a secret meeting on the eve of the last battle. My husband thought they were going to discussss a truce. Instead, the King's Cur stabbed him in the back. Then, he cut off his head and burned his corpse to make sure that he could not rise from the grave. I was there. I saw it all."

"But we were told---"

"You were told what the King wanted you to believe," the white elf, Ellyn interrupted. " If they knew that the Dark One was dead, people would have stopped being afraid. If they were no longer afraid, they would not have obeyed Garic's every whim."

I was too stunned to speak. The stories the rebels told painted a picture more grim than any of them suspected. This was no mere case of madness. I sensed a conspiracy which spanned decades and involved one of the most powerful men in the kingdom.

" You will help us, won't you?" Weil asked earnestly. " With the Forest gone, we few remaining elves don't have the power to defeat the King's army. Your magic is still strong. You can get past the King's guards. Kill Garic, and the nightmare will end."

I examined the faces of those assembled around the fire. Though they were as different as faces can be, all gazed back at me with similar expressions of hope.

The tension in the air was almost palpable, but before I could reply to Weil's request, there was one more piece of information I needed. "How did you know where to find me?"

"We have a friend inside the castle." He nodded in the direction of one of the mortal men, the one I suspected of being a spy. "He discovered where you were buried. Please say you'll help."

The golden elf was so endearing, with his guileless green eyes and youthful innocence. Not unlike Walker, when we first met. I wondered if Weil had been handpicked to be the one to rescue me from the grave or if that was simply a lucky coincidence. The best way to cure one infatuation was to replace it with another, and the depths of my feeling for Walker would have been the wild card in this elaborate scheme, since I could not be relied upon to kill a man whom I loved.

"Please," the young elf begged.

Still, I hesitated. "Does the King have a son?"

Weil frowned at my question. "Yes. The prince turned seven last month. Why do you ask?"

The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. "Just curious."

"You'll help us? Say you will."

"Yes, I'll help you."

On the night of the next new moon, a sparrow, a swan and a hawk flew through the window of the tower room which had once belonged to the king's mage. Lacking the elven ability to shapechange, I was forced to use the stairs, but no one saw me enter the castle, for I had wrapped myself in a spell of invisibility. Even the elves had trouble detecting me.

"Is that you, mage?" Ellyn inquired. A single white feather fluttered to the ground at her feet, as she completed the transformation from swan to elf. Like her companions, she was dressed in a dark hooded cloak.

I waved my hand, banishing the illusion of invisibility.

Weil hurried forward. "What took you so long?"

I grimaced. "Arthritis."

"I was worried about you."

Ellyn cleared her throat. "If you two are through holding hands, we have a tyrant to overthrow."

Blushing furiously, Weil let my hands drop.

I lead the three elves to the top of the stairs. "When we reach the corridor below, Weil and Ellyn will locate the queen and the young prince and make sure they don't leave the castle. Ardwyn comes with me."

Weil opened his mouth to object.

"Trust me," I said.

"Why her and not me?"

"I have my reasons."

When we reached the floor where the royal apartments were located, Weil and Ellyn took a left turn. The golden elf gave me a reproachful glance, before he and his companion entered the queen's chamber which was adjacent to the nursery.

Ardwyn and I tiptoed past the king's chamber. As I had expected, there was no guard posted outside his room. We crept further down the hallway. As I had hoped, there was no guard posted outside Charc's room, either.

Summoning every ounce of power which I could draw from the stone castle and the mountain on which it was perched, I burst through the door.

Charc's expression of surprise was almost comical. However, shock quickly gave way to cunning. As I unleashed a fire spell which reduced his borrowed flesh to cinders, the demon which had possessed the old man attempted to move into my hooded companion. To him, Ardwyn appeared to be a pretty young mortal woman. Only after his essence merged with her flesh did he realize the truth. She was an elf, and under her cloak, she was wearing a garment woven from branches taken from one of the few trees to survive the fire which laid waste to the Forest. Ardwyn stiffened. "Dark!&qu= ot; she snarled. She began to retch.

The demon howled in rage as she reached two fingers into her mouth and plucked his essence from her throat, depositing him in the box made from elven wood which I held in my hands. I snapped it shut.

"That was easier than I expected," I said with a smile.

"Speak for yourself," the brown elf retorted. "It tastes like a cow just took a dump in my mouth." She found a pitcher of water and began gargling.

A few minutes later, we joined Weil in the hall outside the nursery.

"The demon's secure," I told him. "How are the Queen and her son?"

"Scared out of their wits, just as you predicted. Charc had told them to be ready to flee from the castle at a moment's notice. Both of them were dressed for travel, and they had money and jewels sewn into the lining of their clothes. Ellyn's looking after them. Are you going to confront the king, now?"

"I am."

"I'm coming with you."

"I think I can handle him better alone---"

"No, he can handle you better alone. I saw the way you looked at him when you visited the Forest I think if he had asked you to cut out your heart for him, you would have done it."

His assessment of my feelings for Walker were embarrassingly accurate. "That was nine years ago. Things have changed."

"Then you won't mind if I tag along." He plucked a leaf from my hair and straightened my collar. "What are you waiting for? Putting it off won't make it any easier."

Grumbling under my breath, I approached the door to the king's bed chamber. Weil followed so close behind me that I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. I paused with my hand on the latch, trying to gather my courage.

The elf reached over my shoulder and knocked.

"Come in," the king called.

He was sprawled in a chair beside the cold fireplace, an empty wine bottle in his hand. The years had not been kind to him. Too much drink and too little exercise had left him with a red nose, puffy face and sagging jowls. However, that did not stop my heart from skipping a beat at the sight of him.

"Walker."

He cringed. "Charc was right!" he gasped. "You've come to kill me!" He hurled the wine bottle. It missed me by several feet and smashed against the wall, sending glass shards flying. Walker searched blindly for his sword. Failing to find it, he held up his arms, as if he hoping to deflect one of my fireballs or lightening bolts with his bare hands.

It broke my heart, seeing what he had become. "I'm not here to kill you."

He blinked. "You're not? But Charc said---"

"Listen to me. Charc isn't--wasn't the man you thought he was. He was a demon's pawn. Years ago, he persuaded your father to do things which were wrong. Very wrong. Then, he persuaded your father's mage, Petyr to kill the tyrant. After the deed was done, he denounced Petyr as the Dark One. He took you into hiding and raised you to be the savior of your people. Once you regained the throne, he used you to attack his enemies. He got rid of me, because he knew that I was the one person who could stop him. But he didn't kill me, because he knew that he would need me later.

"For nine years, I lay buried in a grave in Bleu's Valley. When he decided that you had outlived your usefulness, he had me unearthed. He planned to have me murder you, the way Petyr murdered your father. The moment you were dead, he would have fled from the capital with your son, whom he would have raised in exile, until the day ten or twelve years from now, when he would have lead him in battle against me. It would have been the forces of light versus the forces of darkness all over again. And when your son ascended to the throne, Charc--or rather, the demon who called himself Charc would have used him to complete the job which he began with your father."

"Charc?" he said weakly. "A demon?"

I held up the elven wood box. "I've captured him. He won't trouble this land again."

Walker covered his face with his hands. "He was always so good to me. Time after time, he saved my life. When my enemies conspired against me, he defended me. When I got sick of all the killing, he----" He looked up, his expression suddenly radiant. "It was all his fault! The murders, the destruction, the anger. It was all his doing. When people find out that I was under a demon's spell, they'll forgive me. With you by my side, I can rebuild Prytyn."

So quick to blame another for his own mistakes. Though part of me still loved Walker, the last bit of respect which I felt for him died. "You were never under a spell. Charc manipulated you, as he manipulated your father, but the ultimate decision was always yours to make."

He staggered, as if I had struck him.

Coolly, I continued the speech which I had prepared. "You will apologize publicly for the harm you've done to Prytyn. You won't mention Charc or say a word about demons. Instead, you'll say that you listened to bad advice. You were trying to do the right thing, but you realize now that you went about it the wrong way. "

"I can't--" Walker began.

I held up my hand. "You can. You will announce your abdication. You'll say that you plan to leave Prytyn and live abroad. Your son will remain in the care of his mother. A counsel of regents will be elected by popular vote. They'll govern until the prince is of age."

He flushed with anger. "Garry won't come of age for twelve years. After twelve years, the people will never agree to relinquish power to a king."

"Exactly. If no one man or woman rules Prytyn, then there's no way that another demon can take control. You want what's best for your country, don't you?"

Put like that, there was only one answer he could give. "Yes, you're right. But how will I survive abroad? Who will take care of me?"

"You'll have to learn to take care of yourself. It's not as if you'll have to work for a living. You'll be given a generous allowance."

His blue eyes implored me to pity him. "What if I get drunk and kill another woman?"

"Then they'll hang you, most likely. Or lock you in an insane asylum."

Walker sighed. "You're so cold."

"Ten years in a grave will do that."

"What about him?" He nodded in Weil's direction. The golden elf stood nearby, arms folded across his chest, glaring at the king.

"What about him?"

"He's very pretty. Is he your lover?"

At this, I could not help but smile. He sounded jealous. "No." I resisted the malicious urge to add Not yet.

"I see. So there's no chance that you'll come with me."

"No chance at all. Go take a bath and change your clothes. Have a drink, if you need it to stop the shakes, but don't get drunk. Not until after you deliver your abdication speech."

I waited until he was gone to cry. Weil offered a sympathetic shoulder. "Some things even magic can't make easy."

"He was my best friend."

"You were his best friend," he corrected. "You just proved it. Only he was too much a fool to realize it."

Nine years after he ascended to the throne, King Garic III abdicated. Six years later, he died from jaundice, caused by drinking. He was brought home to be buried. Prytyn never crowned another king.

One hundred year after Garic's abdication, a man claiming to be his descendent arrived in the capital. Standing on a platform in the market, he denounced the social and moral decline which Prytyn had experienced since the fall of the monarchy. He spoke of the glorious days when men and women took up arms to battle the Dark. He called upon his people to rejoin the fight to rid the world of evil.

The Prytyn's listened politely. They were renowned for their tolerance and believed in giving everyone, even fanatics, a chance to state their opinions.

After the speech was done and the crowd had dispersed, a nightwraith approached the man who claimed to be Prytyn's true king. She was robed in black and carried an umbrella to protect her sensitive skin from the sun.

"The mage predicted that you would find a way out of confinement" she said to the demon which inhabited the body of the blonde young man. "So arrangements were made. You're wasting your time. Prytyn has no place for one such as you.."

"Everyone is afraid of something," the demon replied. "All I have to do is play upon their fear."

"'I tried to destroy our enemy, never realizing that our true enemy was fear.' Those words are engraved on Walker's tombstone. These people will no longer listen to you. Go play your games somewhere else"

The demon snarled and abandonned the body it had possessed.. Released from the spell, the young man dropped to his knees."Where am I?" he asked, looking dazed.

The nightwraith held out her hand. "You've come home.Welcome."

Bio: McCamy is a long time contributor to Aphelion as well as Assistant Short Story Editor. You can find out all about her and her work by following the link below to her new and improved (Post) Millennium Fiction website.

E-mail: taylorjh@nationwide.net

URL: (Post) Millennium Fiction

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