%  Net.Fiction.Story
%  Parts 1 to 14
%  Updated:  22 September, 1992
%
%  This is the Final, Official, Edited, Neat-and-Tidy version of the great
%  net.fiction.story (so far).
%  Please send comments to   mar@astrop.physics.su.oz.au
%
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  {\Large\bf Net.Fiction.Story}
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\section*{Part 1}

``Why do you have to learn how to fly?  It's dangerous, Scott!''

``Listen, Chris, I want to learn how to fly.  It's safer than driving
a car.  Look at this!''  Scott waved a pamphlet, ``More people die from
auto accidents than from plane crashes!''

``But still!  Why?''  The woman was tall, slim, and mad.

``Chris, I'll be just fine.  You worry too much, you know
that?''  

``I know, but we're getting married in a couple of months, and
I don't want anything to happen to you.''

Scott, a dark-haired man of medium height, and average looks, shook
his head.  ``Chris, nothing will happen to me, except for the fact that
I'll have a pilot's license.  I'll be okay.''

A couple of weeks later, Scott sat at the controls of a Cessna,
listening to the instructor talk him down.

``Okay, now, lower the landing gear.  Keep a strong hand on the wheel
when you do.  The plane will bump about a bit.  Okay, good.''

Scott held the controls in a white-knuckled grip.  Noticing his
tension, Mark laughed easily and flashed a grin at his nervous pupil.

``It's okay.  You're doing just fine.  Just relax a bit.  Now, pull the
nose up a bit.  Good.  Cut the power a bit.  Good.''

Just then, the engine died.  The silence was eerie after the drone
of the engine.  Mark flipped a couple of switches, then said, ``Okay, no
problem, we're almost to the runway, just hold the plane level,
carefully.  Tower, this is Cessna 1438, we're coming in unpowered into
runway One-Eight-Zero.  Scott, let go of the controls, I'm taking over.''

Scott let go of the controls, and watched as Mark tried to restart
the engine, but his efforts were in vain.  Mark then frowned in
concentration as he turned his attention to getting the plane down
safely.

``Cessna 1438, Tower.  You are cleared for an emergency landing on
runway One-Eight-Zero.  Radar shows you at one mile out, at an altitude
of 6000 feet.  Crash crews are standing by.''

``Roger, tower.  Scott, get your harness tight.  I don't want you to
fly out of the plane.''

Scott looked out the windshield, and watched as the airport drew
steadily closer.  He could see the crash trucks lined up off to one side
of the runway, the crews waiting for the plane to come in.

Suddenly, the nose dipped straight down.  Mark screamed and hauled
back on the wheel.  The plane started to straighten out.  Scott blacked
out as the ground came rushing up.

\stars
The first thing Scott noticed as he woke up was that he wasn't in a
hospital.  The room was dimly lit, with exotic-looking hangings
decorating three of the walls.  The fourth wall was bare, showing
mortared stone blocks the size of a man's head.

``What am I doing here?''  Scott mused, as he stared around him in
wonder.  ``And, for that matter, where is here?''   

Just then, in the circle in the centre of the room, an old man
appeared.  ``Ah, you're awake.  Good.  There's much to do, and not much
time.''

``Hey, wait a second, old man.  First of all, where am I?  Second,
why am I here?  Third, who're you, and what do you have to do with me
being here?''

``Youngsters, always inquisitive,'' the old man said, shaking his
head.  ``But, that's a good trait in magi.  Come, come, we'll talk while
we go downstairs.''

Magi?  Scott thought.  Where've I heard that word before?  He saw
the old man go to one of the hangings and draw it back.  Behind it was a
stairway.  The old man started to go down it.

``Hey, old man, wait up!''  Scott ran to catch up with the man.  Hey,
what the heck, he could be my ticket out of here, Scott speculated.

The man waited at the head of the stairs for Scott to catch up. 
``First of all, my name is not, `old man.'  You may call me Ilra.  Second,
`here' is my tower, in the free territory of Cartha.  Third, I have
nothing at all to do with why you're here.  You just appeared here last
night with no warning.  I've been trying to figure out who sent you here.
You are a great puzzle to me.''

``Oh.  Okay.  I got another question.  What is a `Magi'?''

``I am a magi.  Magi are weavers of a sort, but we weave reality to
suit our desires.  We work with words, gestures and devices.  You have
the Potential, which is all the more puzzling to me.''

Suddenly Scott stopped on the stairs.  ``Cartha?  Where on Earth is
that?''

``Earth?  What do you mean `Earth'?''

``Earth, here, this planet.''

``Earth?  What a funny name for a planet.  But that means you're not
from Elish\ldots\ This must be investigated.  Come, quickly.'' Ilra hurried
down the stairs.  Scott ran behind him trying to keep up.  

The two reached the room at the bottom of the stairs.  It was about a
hundred feet in diameter, with books all around it.  In the centre was a
lectern, and a few desks facing it.  Behind the lectern was a screen, and
on the other side of the screen, a chemistry lab.  At least, it looked
like one, with beakers, test tubes, but it had candles instead of bunsen
burners.  Lighting up the whole room was a big globe floating near the
ceiling.  Ilra ran to one of the bookcases on the other side of the room. 
``Sit down, young man, this may take some time.''

``My name's Scott Marshall.''

Ilra dropped the book he was looking through.  ``Did you say
Marshall?''

``Yes, I did.  It's my name.''

``Is that your true name?''

``True name?  If you mean the name I was given, then yes it is.''

``It can't be.  It's not time yet.''  Ilra muttered.  He dashed over
to a table containing a pile of scrolls.  He searched through, carelessly
spilling scrolls onto the floor.  With a cry of triumph, he held one up. 
He carried it over to the lectern and began unrolling it, scanning it
quickly, as if looking for something remembered from a long time ago. 
``Here it is.  `The Marshal from dirt will drop in uninvited.  In his
wake, the chaos will be removed.'\,''

``Huh?  What's that supposed to mean?''

``If I'm reading this right, there's supposed to be some sort of
chaos that you're supposed to remove.  Of course, I don't know of any
chaos on Elish.  Prophecies aren't always correct, and it doesn't
necessarily mean that it's you, anyway.  Of course, this one's rather
specific, while most are pretty vague.  That's deliberate, as I'm sure
you know.''

``Hey, hold on a second.  Take this slowly, I'm new to E\ldots\ e\ldots\ oh,
here.  What's this prophecy thing supposed to mean?  I know about
Nostradamus, and it doesn't sound like something he said, and he's
supposedly one of the more accurate ones.  Anyway, I'm not doing anything
until I phone my fianc\'{e}e and tell her I'm alive.''

``Fone?  What's that?''

``You don't know what a telephone is?  Well, I'm no rocket scientist,
but I'll do my best to explain.  It's a device, that uses electricity to
communicate over long distances via wires.''

``Fascinating.  What's electricity?''

``Electricity is\ldots\ is\ldots\ It's energy, that\ldots\ that\ldots\ It's
hard to explain.  I'm an English teacher, not an engineer.  So, you have no
idea what a phone is.  That means I'm not going to be able to get in touch
with her.  How about the American Consulate?  There's one in almost every
country.  Can you take me there?''

``Ameruhkuhn Con-Sue-Late?  What is that?  You are a strange
one indeed.''

Scott sat down heavily as the import of the situation dawned on him. 
``I guess I'm not in Kansas anymore.  
Do you have a map of E\ldots\ e\ldots\ here?''

``Yes, I do.  I don't know if it'll be much help, as it's designed to
help Magi learn force lines, but I'll show you it.''  With that, Ilra made
some gestures and, on the screen behind him, colours and shapes started
fading in, distinguishing themselves from the white background.  ``Now,
right now, you're right here, where all these lines connect,''  Ilra said,
pointing to a small tower icon near the centre of the map.  And, indeed,
a large number of lines did converge on it.  ``Let's see, I should be able
to make the state boundaries appear\ldots''  He frowned in concentration,
and different areas started to change colour.  As the colours stopped
shifting, Scott could see that Elish was as fragmented as a broken
bottle.

``If that's not chaos, I don't know what is.  How can the countries
stay sovereign if they're so small?  I'd think that they'd be gobbled up
by some ambitious general?  But of course, political science and military
history are not my specialties.''

``Alliances shift constantly.  Each nation has its friends and
enemies, but the alliances are weak, and the leaders never trust someone
who may be their enemy the next day.  Also, large armies are quickly
brought down by the Overlords.''

``Overlords?  Who're they?''

``Well, it's a long story.  How about you get cleaned up, out of
those strange garments, and we'll talk over supper.''  With that, Ilra
clapped his hands, and a small figure, dressed in hooded robes came out
of the statues and gestured for Scott to follow it.  Ilra then
disappeared with a rush of air.  The figure motioned again.

Scott stood up and walked over to the figure.  His mind was whirling
with all the information that had just been imparted to him.  If I'm
going to be here a while, he thought, I might as well learn what's going
on.  At least I'll have a chance of getting back home.  

At the thought of home, Scott thought of the plane, and Chris. ``Did
I die?  If I did, what about Chris?''  Scott didn't realise that he'd said
that out loud until the figure stopped in startlement.  ``Oh, sorry, I was
just thinking out loud.''  As if reassured, the figure continued on down
the hall.  It stopped at a large wooden door, and opened it.  The figure
gestured that Scott should enter.  ``I don't know if I should tip you,
but, here, have this.''  Scott held out a quarter he dug out of his
pocket.  The small figure held out a gloved hand and took the coin
gingerly.  It then held the coin up to its hood as if to examine it
closely.

Scott laughed.  ``It's genuine.  Of course, I don't know what it's
worth here, but keep it.  It might be worth something to someone.''  He
then stepped into the room.  It looked like a changing room, with clothes
hooks along one wall, and a doorway that appeared to open onto a large
bath on the other wall.  Folded neatly on a bench under the hooks was a
set of garments.  Scott went over and looked them over.  There was a pair
of soft leather pants, and a white linen shirt.  Also there were
undergarments that looked to be silk.  On the ground in front of the
bench was a pair of boots.  Hanging from one hook was a belt with knife
in a sheath.

``Looks like I've got some pretty nice clothes.''  Scott shut the door
behind him.  A short time later, he stepped out, dressed in the new
clothes, his hair wet from the bath.  He adjusted the knife to the back
of the belt. ``If I'm going to have to carry this thing, I don't want to
be obvious with it until I know how to use it.''

\section*{Part 2}

Marshall sat at the window of his room that night. He watched the
blistered backbone of the Milky Way thicken in the blackness until an
angry red sun stole away the dark, to burn down on a stunted landscape.
Arrays of pines, seemingly weighed down by some invisible burden,
straggled away from the castle to the horizon. Directly below, the
treeline halted at the span of dry red clay that ran up to the wall.  

``Regretfully, the wall is unclimbable. I have tried to use it on 
numerous occasions myself.'' Ilra had slipped into the room unheard. As he
stood there, barefoot and in what now appeared to be very threadbare
robes, Scott realised that the stranger was hardly older than himself.
The timbre of his voice and tone of his skin betrayed the shuffling walk
and worn face.

The scholar eased himself into a chair, running his liver spotted
hands over the armrests. Small ink stains appeared beneath his fingers.
``My apologies for the brusqueness of your reception last night. I am
constrained by circumstances to sometimes work in ways that are
inconvenient to say the least.'' He shivered and gestured lazily towards
the fireplace. There was a loud cracking noise and a log split in a flare
of light, sparks bounding off the top of the cavity and floating down
towards the tinder.  He met Scott's eyes. ``So if you have any
questions\ldots''

Marshall caught his breath. There was the faint smell of ozone in
the room. ``Where do I start,'' he said. Ilra was seemingly busy examining
a frayed edge on his cloak. ``I\ldots\ for a start, where am I? No jargon, no
riddles, no evasion. Where am I?'' 

``You are,'' Ilra started and then his turtle-like head whipped 
around to look at the fire. ``Damn, it's gone out.'' He moved to the tinder
pile and started selecting twigs, peering at each branch and replacing it
in the pile before selecting another.  ``Never wants to catch these
mornings\ldots\ as I was saying, you are currently a guest of Alejo Ilra,
chief scholar and magi to the court of King Julia II of Free Cartha, on
the Peninsula of Havglaw in the Known Lands of Elish.'' He sniffed noisily
and dumped a pile of tinder on the smoldering fire.  ``Or in other terms,
in the middle of a war in the middle of nowhere.''

Marshall rubbed his eyes. Things were not getting any better.  No
scenario his mind could concoct would accommodate the growing number
of increasingly bizarre things he was being confronted with. Ilra finished
arranging the tinder into a cone and struck two rocks together to produce
sparks. The room seemed to constrict in around him, like a surreal
nightmare in which you, and just you, know everything is wrong but you
can't tell anyone or change your course of action, as you're drawn
towards a demented conclusion, into a tunnel of no escape, to a panicked
awakening.

Only Scott was unable to wake up.

``You're the chief what? Mage? To King Julia?''

``Magi, yes. And that's King Julia the Second. She's most touchy
about that with Julia One, as it were, still floating around the
provinces raising mercenary armies.''

Scott rubbed his eyes. A cloud of smoke floated in from the
fireplace. ``A mage. Like a\ldots\ wizard right? A magician? Goblins and
sleight of hand?''

A dour look greeted him. ``Yes. No. Not really. Hardly. In order.
Take this seriously --- I'm no hick bush-witch and what you learn today you
are going to need to use very soon.'' Ilra turned back to fanning the
fire.

Marshall stood up. Unconsciously he checked the position of his
knife. ``I've had quite enough of this. Are you going to answer me
seriously or do I have to leave and get a straight answer from
elsewhere?''

Ilra twisted and was suddenly bending over Marshall, forcing him
back through the window, his hands scrabbling for purchase. The grey wall
continued above Marshall, sheer straight to the sky. Ilra's hands twisted
angrily around Marshall's collar as the magi brought his face near.
Scott's knife bounded off the opposite wall and fell to the floor.
``Listen you idiot,'' the wizard hissed.

``Ignorance and innocence are not interchangeable and neither will
save you when the King's Guard clamp you into a rack or turn you in to the
Overlords. Listen well to me, for both our lives depend on your
performance. Now, shall I throw you to the rocks or just break your back
on this sill?''

One of Marshall's hands lost its grip and that arm wildly flailed in
and out of the window searching for a grip. If he fell, thought Scott,
there was no way he could survive and a good chance he wouldn't die
immediately. What a pathetic way to die --- alone and completely ignorant
of why it was happening. A broken blood vessel on the side of Ilra's nose
pulsed angrily. The magi was insane, no doubt, but this, like anything
else he had learned so far, was useless.

``What,'' Marshall said slowly, ``do you want?''

Ilra pulled him forward and released his grip. Marshall sagged to
the floor as the magi walked over to pick up his knife. Ilra simply
returned the knife to him and once again squatted in front of the fire.
``Firstly, I should caution you against telling anyone what you know, or
indeed what you do not know. The latter is usually even more revealing
than the former. This applies especially to my activities --- mention of my
chemical apparatus could cause the King to string me up for forbidden
technologies. Incidentally you can trust the guard on the door of this
room. Kalesh was tight-lipped even before a few nomads decided to make
him a mute and he owes me a favour or three.''

``He incidentally brought you in from the forest where you were found
and silenced the appropriate parties. He felt that perhaps you could be
of assistance to me in my current dilemma. And he also assumed, quite
rightly, that without the influence and powers of one like me you would
surely be doomed.'' The scholar warmed his hands against the fire. ``The
prophecy unfortunately makes things even more complicated. I'll set a few
of my boys loose in the library to see what they can come up with. Being
restricted by a prophecy would be bad to say the least.''

``You didn't bring me here, then?'' Marshall asked. His fingertips
bled from where they had grasped the window.

Ilra gave a short barking laugh. ``Hardly. Would that I was so
powerful. It is obvious that someone however is powerful enough. Over the
years I've come across many tales of people such as yourself, who
obviously don't, as they say, come from this shire. The Overlords are a
shining example, but don't repeat that to anyone. But whoever did bring
you here,'' he smirked, ``is probably looking for you now. So do as I say 
and you may live.''

Marshall stood up. ``What do I have to do?''

``Learn to be a magi, or at least imitate one. What was your
occupation back where you came from? Were you a scholar or technically
literate?''

``I was an English teacher. Language and literature I mean. That's
what I taught.'' Marshall dusted himself off.

Ilra pressed his lips together dolefully. ``This may be more
difficult than I'd expected.''

\section*{Part 3}

``You will come with me to the library now, Marshall.  I shall do my
best to instruct you in your own defense.''  He tapped lightly on the
portal.  ``Kalesh, the door.'' It swung open with a mild creak and Scott
followed Alejo Ilra down the twisting stairs.

\stars
Coronys, a minor priest at the Temple of Ashes in Orluccar had seen
demons and spirits with his own eyes but he had never been as frightened
as when he was ordered to bring a message to the Court of the Shaheran of
Rameshan.  After an exhausting journey for two days and nights across the
sands of Ahmey, Coronys came to the palace of the Shaheran in Pashar.  The
twin-eagle crest he wore on his tunic marked him as a special envoy of
the Oracularity so he was admitted to the Shaheran's presence without
interference.

Coronys quaked before the Shaheran's immense cushioned throne.  ``I
bring a message from the seer of Orluccar:   `From soil faraway the
Marshall arrives.'  The bones have indicated it, your grace.  The prophecy
has come.  The Marshall has come to Elish.''

The Shaheran frowned and scratched his puffy double chin.  He cocked
his head to one side and whispered something to a eunuch.

``I speak for the Shaheran,'' the eunuch squeaked.  ``We recognise the
gravity of this event.  We shall mobilise the Scarlet Ones.''

\stars
``Alazu' hundva Laktu Emiriam?'' Scott Marshall struggled with the
unpronounceable words of the magical spell.  The small rounded stone on
the table before him glowed weakly for an instant, then faded again.

``Damn, blast and confound you, Marshall!  The spell of radiance is
one of the simplest enchantments, yet you refuse to incant it as I
instruct you!  Again.  Read the words on the page and point your finger
thusly\ldots'' Ilra indicated with his own hand and the stone glowed strongly.

Scott still suspected there was a battery of some sort concealed in
the stone.  He picked up the rock and felt it, searching for a
compartment.  Finding none, he replaced the rock.  ``If these magic words
are genuine,'' he reasoned to himself, ``the spell should work on whatever
I cast it on.''  He picked up the parchment, stood up, read the words
again and pointed his finger at a clay vessel on a shelf.  To his
surprise, the pot began to glow as brightly as the stone.

``I'll be damned, it is magic.''  Scott gasped.  

Ilra only sighed and
rested his chin in his hands.  ``Again.  Practice, practice, practice. 
When I am confident you won't turn yourself into a bucket of night-soil
we'll move on to some more critical spells.''  Scott moved around the
room, reciting the words to the spell and causing random objects to glow. 
Pleased with his discovery, he grinned. 

Kalesh entered the room and gave the ``somebody-at-the-door'' sign with
his hand.  Ilra rose from his slouch at the table and followed his mute
servant downstairs to the main hall, the door of which was already ajar. 

The diminutive armoured warrior began, ``I represent Kosgar the Mighty,
the newly crowned king of Cartha.  The wench-pretender Julia\ldots''

``That's Julia II to you, little runt,'' Ilra muttered to himself.

``\ldots\ has been defeated in battle at Sanakin.  Kosgar is the new
rightful king of All the Carthas and he demands that you vacate his
property.  I give you three days to remove yourself and your belongings
from this territory.''

``I'm a wizard, mind you.  Begone, or I shall turn you and all your
goons into mice.''

``Hah, I've heard about you, mage-ling.  And I'm not a bit afraid. 
I have spoken.  Get the hell out of this castle so that my boys and I
here can move in.''  The soldiers accompanying the little knight smiled.

``Oh dear,'' Ilra sighed, as Kalesh closed the front door. ``What am I
going to do now?''

\section*{Part 4}

Peering out a small arrow slit, to the side of the door, Scott
watched the soldiers raise their tents just inside of the curtain wall of
the tower.  Down the damp stone hallway Ilra muttered to Kalesh, and he
furiously signed back, grunting and whining when necessary.  Turning away
from the slit, Scott slowly walked towards the two.

``No!'' Catching his raised voice, Ilra lowered it to a harsh whisper,
``Then what would we do!?  Do you expect Julia II to simply come back and
save us?''

Kalesh grunted, snapping his hands back and forth and finishing by
pounding on his chest.

``Ahhh, yes, that does make more sense, the idiot soldiers of Kosgar
could never find those basement chambers and passages if we sealed the
door\ldots\ but we must be on our way quickly!''

Ilra turned around to call Scott, nearly bumping into him.  Jumping
from fright, Ilra grabbed his tunic, pulling him close, ``Quickly, go with
Kalesh and help him carry the supplies,'' Ilra emphasised the last through
clenched teeth, ``and ask NO questions!''

Surprised by the frantic actions of Ilra, Scott watched him hurry
down the hall into a small side door.  Kalesh tugged at his sleeve,
motioning with his head to the stairs.

\stars
Dark black stone, with blood red veins, made up the floor, walls,
and ceiling of the temple.  In the central hall, a deep bass drum slowly
pounded, shaking everybody present.  Two burning pits near the altar were
the only source of light.  Bitter smoke caused people's eyes to itch. 
Torchlight, flickering wildly, threw everybody into writhing shadows,
causing their forms to be more mysterious.

Suddenly the people split apart, pulling to each side of the room,
the drum continued to beat in a slow rhythm.  On one side was the altar,
now with one man standing behind it.

He was a silhouette, with large animal horns protruding from his
head, and a hint of red over his twisted frayed robes.  An oppressive
humidity hung in the room.

On the other side, two large wooden doors --- carved with scenes of fae
creatures dancing furiously --- creaked loudly.  They slowly opened.  Behind
them was a darkness, so intense it seemed to flow out into the hall,
quenching what little light there was.

From within its depths could be seen movement, and four forms crept
forward, slowly writhing to the beat.  As the first foot crossed the
threshold, a suffocating hot evil burst through the room.  The crowd
pushed further against the walls in fear, a few people gasped in agony.

The four misshapen bodies, covered with thick dark red robes, pulled
themselves closer to the altar.  Horns were ripped through their robes at
random places.  Long, stick-like fingers wove in motion through the air. 
The heads were completely covered by hoods.

The man behind the altar spoke in a harsh, tormented voice, that
grated on the nerves of the crowd, ``The Scarlet Ones\ldots\ have accepted the
summons.''

\section*{Part 5}

Scott could feel the muscles in his arms tiring as he carried yet
another chest down the stairs after Kalesh. Between puffing breaths he
muttered, ``If he's such a great wizard, why can't he just magic this
stuff down to the basement?''

Kalesh turned and shot a glare at him, releasing one hand from its
grip on the sack slung over his shoulder to make a sharp, sweeping motion
across his lips.

Understanding the double meaning of the gesture, Scott turned his
eyes back to the stone steps beneath his feet and apologised. ``Sorry,
just thinking out loud again.''

When they reached the chamber at the bottom of the stairs, well lit
by several strategically placed lanterns, Scott thumped the chest down
with a grateful grunt. Catching his breath, he asked in a resigned voice,
``Any more?''

Kalesh shook his head, causing Scott to blink in surprise, then sit
down on a decrepit looking wooden stool for a rest. Not two breaths
later, Ilra entered the chamber from a small doorway to one side of the
stairs.

``Get up, Marshall,'' he said in an impatient tone, ``This is no time
for laziness. We have to be well away from here before our three days are
up. Come, you can help me seal the door.''

With an exasperated sigh, Scott rose and followed the magi back up
the cramped stairway. Near the top, Ilra squatted down and peered into a
small alcove, where a stone apparently was missing from the passage's
construction.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Scott asked quietly, ``Ilra,
all this is only just starting to make any sense to me. Obviously there
is a lot I have to learn about this place, but that's sort of sunk in
now, and I'm beginning to understand the reality of what's happening. So,
I can see that we need to get away from those soldiers outside, but how
is coming down here going to help us?''

Ilra, who had been poking an arm into the alcove while Scott spoke,
turned around and pierced Marshall with his light brown eyes, orange
reflections of the flickering torch flames lending them highlights. ``Did
I not tell you to ask no questions?''

Slightly taken aback, Scott began, ``Yes\ldots''

Before Scott could get his ``but\ldots'' out, Ilra interrupted with,
``Curiosity is a virtue, Marshall. Remember that.'' Ilra turned back to the
alcove and continued exploring it with his right arm as he spoke. ``The
answer to your question is simple. There are some quite long passages
originating beneath my tower. We shall use one of them to leave and ---
where is that blasted wand? --- make our way to Sanakin, where we must find
King Julia II and help her regain the throne. Ah! Here it is!'' Ilra
lunged a little further into the alcove.

``Why don't we just leave like they asked us to? Why this skulking?''

Ilra extracted his arm from the alcove and brandished a short stick
at Marshall. ``They are troops of Kosgar. The less they know of what goes
on, the better.''

``Who's this Kosgar fellow?'' Scott asked.

Ilra frowned at him. ``Curiosity is also a vice. It can get you into
trouble and can reveal things that you are better off not knowing.
Remember that, too. Now,'' he pointed the blunt end of the stick, which
Scott now saw was a narrow, tapering cone of something that looked like
polished granite, at the opening at the top of the stairs, ``watch,
listen, and learn. Karrhanak!''

Scott watched in amazement as the stones which lined the passage
extruded tongues of rock. They crept toward each other and, after a few
seconds, met at the centre of what had once been the doorway. The
accompanying grinding sound ended, signalling the complete closure of the
passage with a wall of rock.

``Wow!'' Scott blinked, ``That was just like in a movie I saw once.''

``Anyone with minimal training can do it,'' Ilra commented as he
replaced the rod of stone in the alcove. ``To open it, you must point the
sharp end of the wand at the wall and repeat the command: Karrhanak. Say
it.''

``Karr\ldots\ hanak,'' Scott endeavoured to get the pronunciation exactly
right.

``Good. Again. But with more confidence, more authority.''

``Karrhanak!!'' Scott used his best `imperious teacher' voice.

``Excellent,'' Ilra praised quietly, causing Scott to smile. ``Do not
forget the command. You will need it if you return here without me.''

``Why would I do that?'' Scott asked, puzzled.

``Curiosity,'' Ilra warned, raising a finger. ``Remember. And use your
wisdom to decide when it is a virtue and when a vice. Come.'' The magi led
the way back down the stairs.

\stars
Inside the city of Pashar, the Shaheran of Rameshan felt his skin
crawl as the Scarlet Ones questioned him.

``Does anyone know where the Marshall is?'' asked one of them, the
slippery, high-pitched voice oozing out of the red hood, taking with it
a sickeningly sweet smell of burnt honey.

The Shaheran, nearly choking on the smell, answered with a voice
barely above a whisper. ``The Seer sent no word and there are no other
reports yet.''

``Very well,'' the guttural grunts of another of the swaying figures
formed barely recognizable words, ``We shall find him.'' The odour of
rotting animal flesh suffused the air in the chamber.

``And return him to you,'' a third added, thin fingers clawing the air
as it spoke in thin hisses, spreading the animal stench of manure and
urine.

``Excellent,'' the Shaheran spoke quickly, ``You may leave now. My
flying carpet is on the balcony.''

After the Scarlet Ones had left, the Shaheran hurriedly opened the
door leading to the hallway. He gestured to the eunuch standing guard
outside and whispered an order.

The eunuch called to a passing slave in his shrill voice, ``Assemble
the cleansing slaves. The Shaheran craves a bath and massage.''

\stars
Outside the city gates, Coronys was more than happy to remount his
camel and begin the long journey back to Orluccar. He had hardly expected
to be invited to the summoning ceremony, but certainly could not risk
insulting the Shaheran by refusing. Now he, like all who were present for
the summoning, bore the Mark of the Scarlet Ones on the back of his left
hand. The Mark would only fade when the Scarlet Ones returned to the foul
place of their origin.

In all Coronys' experience, he had never seen a more impressive
ceremony. He could appreciate the elaborate nature of the summoning, the
opulence and grandeur of the ornamentation, the sheer power and majesty
of the ritual. But never, in all his dealings with the fell denizens of
the spirit world, had he been so starkly terrified as when the Scarlet
Ones emerged from those infernal doors.

Grasping the pommel of his saddle, the Mark caught his eye and
Coronys shuddered. Perhaps the Mark was a sign to the Seer of Orluccar
that the Shaheran was true to his word. Coronys grinned to himself as he
climbed into the saddle. That the Scarlet Ones walked Elish again would
soon become obvious. 

Coronys signalled to his escort and the four man party began their
journey across the sands of Ahmey, back to the Temple of Ashes.

\section*{Part 6}

They came at once to their meeting place --- a small, sparsely 
furnished room found deep within the ruins of an ancient castle.  The first 
one to arrive, Quintus, dusted off the table, and produced some rickety 
chairs from the other rooms.  The meeting would be important --- no, 
imperative.  The fate of many city-states would be decided soon, and there 
needed to be law and order across the land.

When they had all arrived and been seated, Quintus quickly turned
the conversation to the issue at hand --- the newborn magi.  He retold the
tale of the ancient prophecy to the others --- the prophecy written millenia
ago. 

``I have summoned you here because, without our involvement, the 
prophecy may not hold true,'' spoke the elder Quintus.

``Has the time come already?'' questioned the sage to his left.  ``Is
our work here done?  Surely you jest!''

``The Marshall has come at last.''  Quintus spoke gravely --- there 
was no humour in his voice.

``The prophecies of old are not to be trusted --- not one has proven
itself to be true to this day,'' the sage claimed,  ``and if 
the Marshall has come, we should be happy --- he is here to unite the kingdoms 
of Elish and make these lands prosperous and fill them with peace.''

The nine Overlords of Elish sat at the large oaken table and 
continued the discussion about the coming of the one true magi.

``I watch over the desert kingdoms of the east, heed my words!'' 
cited Quintus.  ``My minions have told me that the Shaheran of Rameshan has
opened a gate to the Fireworld.''

``We have to move quickly then!'' spoke another.

``Listen further,'' Quintus continued,  ``He has summoned forth
four red daemons of might.''  The room grew silent at once.  ``They can be
called collectively the Scarlet Ones.  Obviously we are dealing with one
who knows the portals, and knows how to bind the forces of other 
dimensions.

``Which is why I wanted to speak to you all.  The prophecy dictates
that the Marshall shall come.  Well, that he has.  The prophecy then 
declares that he will free Elish from the chaos that has plagued us for
these many, many years.  This chaos we sought to prevent, yet knew not how.
Have courage, friends --- our struggles have not been in vain!  We have 
prevented many battles, many wars from breaking into mindless bloodshed.
We have stopped the potential dictators, destroyed the necromancers, and
summoners who would use magick to enslave and torture.  

``But now, our time is come.  We have one last task set before us.
We must ensure that the prophecy is fulfilled.  The Marshall must find
the deep caverns of these ruins, these ruins we have guarded over for 
more years than we can remember.  He must break the Great Seal, and must
read the Unwritten Book\ldots'' Quintus spoke.

``Wait a second, Lord,''  called a red-haired woman from down the table.
``The prophecy specified that the Marshall would stop the chaos.  That does 
not necessarily imply that he has to break the Seal and read the Book.  I 
mean, the Seal may destroy him, as it has all the others of this world who
have attempted to break it,''  she continued.

``But he is not of this world!'' Quintus passionately pursued his
argument.  His was a dire cause.  He didn't know which of the Overlords, 
would listen to his words and support his fight.  ``He is a wanderer from
another world --- out of time and space.  He may now have found someone to 
teach him the lore, yes, but there is a limit as to how much any one man
may teach him.  His power must be enormous if he is to unite the peoples
of Elish, and banish their fear and hatred of each other.''

A tall, white-bearded, aging man stood up from his seat.  Anger and 
disappointment could be seen in his eyes.  He spoke then, and his tone
of voice was harsh and critical.

``I will not support such a cause. The prophecy is crap!  You and
I know it, Quintus!'' he pointed a wrinkled finger at the elder.  ``How can you 
expect any of us to believe this?'' he crooned, gesturing to the others about 
the table.  ``We, the Overlords, have kept the chaos under control for all 
these millenia, and because another wanderer falls from the heavens, you 
choose to believe that this time the prophecy will come true.  

``Aye, I have grown old, just like you,'' the white-bearded lord 
continued, ``but I'm still not na\"{\i}ve enough to believe this fiction.
Overlords, do not listen to this foolishness, and go about your ways as 
always.  There is no saviour --- we are the only ones who can keep the peoples 
of Elish from killing one another, as we have always done, and will continue 
to do so.  I will not hear any more.''  The old man bowed to the table 
and departed.  

Quintus jumped to his feet and called to the other, but could
not persuade him to stop.  

\stars
The discussion continued for another hour.  In the course, five 
other lords had left, believing Quintus to be daft.  Quintus sat now with
only two others.  The only ones who would swear to help him guard the  
prophecy were Kathryn of the five winds --- the redhead --- and Caine of the
far south.  Quintus had aided them both in many battles, and the three had 
all become good friends.  

Quintus went on to explain what he believed were the Shaheran's
plans --- to take the young Marshall under his wing, and teach him more
of the art, gain his friendship.  He would soon after have the Marshall
break the Seal, read the Unwritten Book, and entice him to use his magicks
to bring death and war to the peoples of Elish --- perhaps bring the 
Shaheran to a dictatorial position over the crumbling kingdoms of the land.
The Scarlet Ones would guarantee that the Shaheran would find the Marshall
quickly.  Perhaps some of the Shaheran's powerful magicks would persuade
the Marshall to become the Shaheran's friend.  His charming spells were 
known to be very powerful indeed.

Caine of the far south sat pondering the situation.  He had known 
Quintus for many a year, and could not let him down at this time.
He had always been on good terms with the elder and he felt he would have to  
offer his services to the elder, for the many times Quintus had served his
needs.

``Lord Quintus, I wish I may serve you in this time of your need,''  
Caine intoned, in a deep, somewhat fearful voice.  ``At the moment, I can do
little myself, but I will have a small group of my most silent followers 
monitor the movements of the Scarlet Ones.  If your hunch is right, they 
will lead us straight to the Marshall.  When they have communicated to me 
his location, I will bring that news to you, and we may then decide 
our actions,'' he muttered.  

Quintus' face relaxed just a fraction, and perhaps a smile could
be subtly detected there.  ``This is progress at last.  I thank you tenfold
Caine.  When we know where he is, we can take action.  Kathryn of the five
winds, will you then come to my aid, too?'' Quintus questioned.

``Most certainly, my friend.  I will always come to your aid,'' she 
replied happily.  Quintus wondered about this fragile creature, weaver of
potent magicks, how she took all matters so calmly --- even perhaps, the 
destruction of all Elish.

\section*{Part 7}

$\ll$We've got action on the surface. Something severe. At least three centres
of activity.$\gg$

$\ll$How is this different from everything else that's happening?$\gg$

$\ll$Don't know. The machines churned it out. I'm still doing the analysis, but
it's all convergent on Cartha.$\gg$

$\ll$Where?$\gg$

$\ll$Cartha. On the southern peninsula. The other one. That looks like an
inverted stork.$\gg$

$\ll$Got it. It's your turn, isn't it?$\gg$

$\ll$Uh, yes. Voice of god schtick again?$\gg$

$\ll$Probably. You're in charge, I have a civil insurrection in Sura-Nord to
tend to. It's in danger of blowing out.$\gg$

$\ll$The area could be hostile. The local ruler has just been overthrown.$\gg$

$\ll$Does it alter the global trade and movement patterns appreciably?$\gg$

$\ll$No\ldots\ not at this point, anyway. But with time a divergent
cross-cultural interaction could take place and\ldots$\gg$

$\ll$Then take a gun. Better hop to it, we have to be in Guliensh next week to
apply a bit of pressure to the king.$\gg$

$\ll$Intelligence indicates some Scarlet Ones have been activated.$\gg$

$\ll$Then take two guns. Go!$\gg$

\stars
Marshall's calves itched constantly. He was sure that at least a
dozen insects of unknown variety were working their way up from the dank
water he stood in, to wreak untold havoc inside his jeans. ``This is, I 
trust, leading somewhere?''

Ilra considered him sourly. ``It's heading north. North will get us out of
here. Beyond that, practise your spells and stop whining.''

The teacher saw Kalesh's profile shake in the darkness, and he reddened at
the mute's laughter. They had been underground for nearly an hour now, but
there had been no change in the tunnel or their surrounds to indicate they
had gone any further than ten feet. Ilra strode out in front of Marshall
and the guard, not glancing to either side. There was a dull hiss of running
water in the distance and on the perimeter of the flickering half-light of 
the torch Marshall could see small amphibians retreating into the dark.

Ilra stopped. ``There is something you should know,'' he announced without
preamble. ``You'll remember that you are apparently the subject of a
prophecy.'' Marshall nodded slowly, senses dulled by the journey. ``This
creates a lot of problems. Fighting it could be very tricky, especially as
the prophet in question, Jastaric the Seer, has a nasty reputation for
being accurate.''

A small clod of dirt detached from the ceiling and landed on Marshall,
sending soil down the back of his collar. ``Meaning what?''

Ilra sighed and leant against the wall to rest. Marshall realised the
magician was as tired as he was. ``It constrains you to act in certain ways.
Since you are constrained and Jastaric's writings are well known throughout
the land, your actions can be anticipated and countered.''

``That would seem to make nonsense of free will.''

The magi smirked. Marshall could hear Kalesh splashing about in the
distance, presumably scouting. ``That depends on your concept of time. In a
sense, you have done those things, are doing those things and will be
doing those things.'' He fell silent for a minute. ``And will be damned for
those things. Perhaps the prophecy can be reinterpreted or broken\ldots\ it's
possible. Keep that in mind. But whatever you do, never\ldots''

Light slashed down into the tunnel, accompanied by a long cracking noise.
Rocks pummeled Marshall to the ground, and he saw a large, irregular shadow
come between him and Ilra. Dust blew up his nose, and splinters penetrated
his clothes. We are all going to die, he thought\ldots\

He toppled down towards the centre of the tunnel and lay face-up, gaping
into the blue sky above. As he coughed the dust from his lungs, the hole
of light constricted. His vision cleared, and he recognised a dozen
figures surrounding the hole looking down. There was someone over to his
side, not Ilra, someone picking Ilra up. 

``Haven't changed have you, mage-rat?'' Her hair was long and matted to the
back of her leather jerkin. As she tightened her grip on Ilra's collar, an
arquebus slung around her shoulder slid down to her elbow. Scars cut a
maze across one of her cheeks. ``Remember me, rat?''

Ilra, stunned by the cave-in, struggled ineffectively, his eyes wide with
terror. ``K-King Julia!'' he stammered.

The second, Marshall thought and then realised his mistake. Julia had
pushed the wizard up against the tunnel wall, drawing a long, wicked knife
in the process. ``Nice to be remembered,'' she snickered. ``How's our mutual
friend, the usurper? How's her pet mageling?'' Above her the soldiers,
dressed in the same stained and worn armour, laughed. Marshall pushed back
into the rubble, fragments of rock dislodging and loudly skittering out of
place. ``I,'' the displaced ruler said, the knife blade gleaming in the light 
from above, ``have been patient for so very long. And now your pretender 
king will die, just as you will when I gut you.''

She did so. Marshall screamed and the scene shattered and disappeared like
a photograph set alight, the lit fragments streaming away in the wind.

\stars
$\ll$Don't move.$\gg$

$\ll$Stay still, they'll be here soon. No, stay.$\gg$

Marshall strained his eyes open. He coughed out the dust from the tunnel
and\ldots\ no. He felt dew seeping into the clothes on his back and his hands
clawed into grass. ``Chris,'' he croaked.

Her hair hung into his face, as she started. ``Thank God,'' she whispered.
``You're alive. So much blood\ldots'' The sound of distant sirens could be
heard, as she straightened up, placing her hands on his shoulders. ``Don't
move --- the ambulance will be here soon.'' A childhood scar on the right
side of her neck showed a muscular spasm, and Marshall stupidly realised
how upset she was. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't verbalise.
Don't be upset, of course you're upset, you saw me die\ldots\

He twisted out of her grip to a half-raised position. Heat waves rolled off
the tarmac, twisting and distorting vision past the twisted, blazing
remnants of a crashed Cessna. Several figures in overalls circled the
wreck like prize-fighters assessing an opponent, dodging in to spray
extinguishers before retreating.

Lurching to a fully upright position, he grasped Chris' face and twisted
it towards him. Her eyes were wide and frightened, fully dilated. Chris'
scar had been on the left hand side.

For a second time Marshall screamed, but only as the scene again dissolved
and he realised just how much Chris looked like Julia.

\section*{Part 8}

Scott Marshall was running down the tunnel, as fast as his tired legs could
carry him.

``Kalesh!'' he called out between puffed breaths, ``Slow down! I can't follow
you this fast!''

Far ahead in the inky blackness, the faint flicker of a torch showed where
the mute was threading his way along the passage. Scott's pulse thundered
in his ears, his breathing came in ragged gasps. His feet felt like lead as
they thudded into the waterlogged soil. He made a concerted effort to draw
a deeper breath for another shout, when his right foot slipped on the mud,
his leg buckled under him, and he crashed headlong into the fetid water.

Coughing out a mouthful of foul water, Scott pushed himself on to his side
and wheezed uncontrollably. He wiped the mud from his eyes and saw the
ruddy glow of a torch approaching.

``Kalesh\ldots'' he gasped.

The figure stepped closer. Scott looked up from the leather boots into the
face of King Julia. Something dripped from the tip of her knife on to
Scott's cheek.

Scott found enough breath for another scream.

\stars
``\ldots\ Marshall!''

``No!'' Scott yelled, ``I'm not the Marshall! Don't kill me!'' Someone was
holding him down at the shoulders. He opened his eyes.

``Mr Marshall, calm down! It's all right. You're in a hospital.'' The nurse's
face was inches from his. She was quite young, and pretty.

Scott slumped back on to the pillow, taking a deep breath. He saw someone
else readying a hypodermic. ``It's okay,'' he said in a slightly shaky voice.
``I don't need that. It was just a dream.''

``Are you sure, Mr Marshall?'' The doctor had curly brown hair and a
concerned look on her face. She gestured the nurse aside. ``That was quite a
scream you let out just then.''

``No, really, I'm fine,'' Scott managed to sound calmer. His eyes flicked to
the tube running from the IV bottle to his arm. Suppressing a retch, he
watched the doctor put the syringe down. ``Actually,'' he said, taking a slow
breath, ``How am I?''

The doctor faced him again, giving a reassuring smile. ``Not too bad. You
have a lot of bruising, a few lacerations, which we've patched up, and
you'd lost a lot of blood. But there's nothing broken, and you'll be as
good as new in a few weeks. You'll only have to stay here a couple of days
or so.''

Scott breathed a vocalised sigh of relief. Then, ``What about Mark?''

``The other man in the plane?'' The doctor pursed her lips. ``I'm afraid he
didn't make it.''

\stars
$\ll$You did what?$\gg$

$\ll$Sent him back.$\gg$

$\ll$Um\ldots\ Do you think that'll work?$\gg$

$\ll$The Scarlet Ones won't be able to find him.$\gg$

$\ll$True. But it goes against the prophecy, doesn't it? `The Marshall from
dirt will drop in uninvited.' Doesn't say anything about him leaving.$\gg$

$\ll$Only three of the Overlords believe it, anyway.$\gg$

$\ll$And the Seer of Orluccar.$\gg$

$\ll$Oh. Yes. I forgot about him.$\gg$

$\ll$Look, maybe you should take Sura-Nord.$\gg$

\stars
``Miss Jensen? Scott's conscious now. You can see him if you want. This way,
please.'' The young nurse led Chris down the corridor to Scott's room.

``Is he all right?'' asked Chris in an anxious voice.

``He's fine. He's probably still just a little disoriented, that's all.'' The
nurse shrugged slightly as she reached for the door handle. ``He hasn't even
asked after you yet. But I wouldn't worry about that. A visit from you will
do him good.''

Chris smiled at the nurse and entered the room. ``Scott?''

Marshall had been steeling himself for this moment. One part of him was
convinced that the whole Elish thing had been a bad dream he'd had while
unconscious. He must have been imagining things when he thought that Chris'
scar had moved to the right side of her neck. Another part of him wasn't so
sure.

``Chris, hi,'' he said noncommittally. As she crossed the room to sit by his
bed and hug him gingerly, Marshall noted the scar on her left side where it
belonged and breathed a sigh of relief. ``Oh, Chris.'' He held her tight with
his one free arm. ``I had the worst dream\ldots''

When the hug ended, Chris sat leaning forward slightly over the bed and
looked at Marshall with moist eyes. ``I'm so glad you're all right, Scott.
I was so scared.''

Marshall managed a weak smile. ``I was a bit scared, too.''

``Poor Mark\ldots'' Chris began, then stopped, looking uncertainly into Scott's
eyes.

``They told me, Chris,'' Marshall said softly, ``It's okay.''

``Oh, Scott. That could have been you.'' Fully formed tears were beginning to
fall from Chris' eyes. ``Promise me you won't fly again.''

``That was a freak accident,'' Marshall spoke gently, moving his arm to
stroke her long brown hair, ``The odds against another one are
astronomical.''

Chris slumped her shoulders and breathed a sigh. In a frustrated voice she
said, ``Haven't changed have you?''

Mage-rat, thought Marshall.

``I let you take those lessons,'' Chris was saying, her voice sounding
fainter and farther away. ``I have been patient for so very long\ldots''

And now your pretender king will die, thought Marshall, just as you will
when I gut you.

Marshall's mind raced. Get a grip on yourself, he thought. It was just a
dream. Now, what is Chris saying?

``\ldots\ fully healed in time for the wedding. Scott, are you all right?''

Wedding? Marshall focused and looked at Chris' worried face. The faint
trace of her scar was visible on her right side.

When Scott screamed this time, the doctor had to use the hypodermic.

\stars
Consciousness returned to Marshall slowly. He took the time to take a few
deep breaths before opening his eyes. It didn't smell like a hospital. The
whinny of a horse confirmed his suspicions.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the interior of what looked like a small
barn. It was dimly lit by the daylight leaking in through the door. Between
the door and Marshall were two men, dressed in dirty and torn clothes. They
were sitting on wooden crates and holding short spears. Piles of leather
armour and mail lay next to them. Marshall was lying on a low mound of hay.

``Don't move,'' said one of the men, ``You wouldn't like the consequences.''

Marshall groaned and shifted slightly into a more comfortable position. He
pinched himself to make sure that he was awake. I must be awake, he
reasoned, you never even think to do that in a dream. He looked up at the
amused faces of his captors.

``Why,'' he muttered, ``does this have to happen to me? I'm not even from
Connecticut.''

``Shut up,'' ordered the same man who had spoken before. He turned to his
companion. ``Go tell King Julia the prisoner is awake.''

\section*{Part 9}

Scott was roughly seized and propped up against the wall of his
makeshift cell.  The guard sneered at him.  ``Gotta look nice for King
Julia.  We wouldn't want to disappoint her now would\ldots'' Suddenly the 
guard slumped over with a glazed look in his eye.  Behind him stood Kalesh,
holding the largest hammer Scott had ever seen.

``Where the hell have you been?  First you drag me through god forsaken 
tunnels, and then when we're attacked, you run off to let me get captured!''

Kalesh glared at Scott.  

``All right, I'll quiet down.  Just get me out of here.''

Kalesh quickly cut Scott's bonds with his knife and motioned him to follow
quietly.  As they made there way toward the barn door, they heard voices.

``Shhh! Damn, that's King Julia!  Great, now how do we get out of here?''

Kalesh moved to a side stall and moved a tiny sliver of wood, causing a section
of the stall to open. ``Why do I think that I'm in a bad remake of the rescue
scene in {\em Star Wars\/}?'' Scott muttered to himself.  They
quickly entered the 
opening and moved into a hidden tunnel.  ``What is it with this world and
these damn tunnels?  What? Is everyone afraid of the sun or something, that 
you can't walk above ground for a change?''  Kalesh just smiled.

\stars
``You what?! You had the Marshall here and you let him escape?  What do you
think I hired you for, to let him go after I finally caught him?'' King Julia
slammed her fist into the table before her.  ``Well don't just stand there!
Go after him, you morons!''  The two guards quickly turned to leave, running 
into each other. ``Great, I hire thugs and I get comedians.  Move!''  The
guards scurried out the door.

``Not as organised as you wish, my dear?'' said a voice from behind her.
``Perhaps you do need my help?''

``I don't need your help, Aladar!  I can capture Marshall without the added
help of the Overlords!'' Julia sneered.  ``Hell, it seems you have trouble just
controlling the Shaheran, with his mighty Scarlet Ones''

The figure of a tall, white-bearded old man stepped into the light. ``Now,
no need of that. We all know what the arrival of the Marshall can mean to
our plans. Thankfully I was able to convince most of the Overlords that
the Prophecy is nonsense, though that busybody Quintus still insists on
trying to help the Marshall. Unfortunately, he's gained the help of two
other Overlords, though only minor ones. No real threat to our plans.''

``Keep it that way Aladar.  Keep it that way,'' breathed King Julia.   

\stars
``Where are we going?  Kalesh, will you slow down?'' Scott breathlessly said.
``I'll never be able to keep up at this rate! God you must have had you 
wheaties this morning.  Which reminds me.  When are we going to stop for 
food?  I'm starved!''

Kalesh slowed down to allow Scott to catch up.  He pointed down a smaller 
tunnel and then at his stomach, indicating food to be found at the end of the
tunnel. He than started down the tunnel, grabbing Scott roughly and dragging
him after him.  They entered a small room, sparsely decorated with what 
seemed to be antiques from ancient Egypt.

``Great, I went from a {\em Star Wars\/} remake to {\em Indiana Jones\/}.
What's next,
{\em Blade Runner\/}?  No, I know, {\em Patriot Games\/}!'' Scott
chuckled to himself,
``Too bad I don't look like Harrison Ford, I may enjoy this better if I
did.'' Kalesh just stared silently. ``Never mind Kalesh, private Earth
joke.''

Kalesh indicated a small crate to Scott. ``You want me to open it?
Okay.'' He opened it to find rations packed away, as if for an emergency
shelter. ``Gee it looks like you and Alejo had everything planned out, eh
Kalesh?''

``You could say that Marshall,'' a voice said.

``You! How? Why? Huh?''  Scott squeaked, and fainted.

\stars
``Wake up Marshall. Wake up.''

Scott rose slowly.

``Where am I?'' Scott focused on the face of Ilra staring at him. ``What
happened?  I saw you gutted! You're dead!'' he panted.

``Please Marshall, give me some credit. I'm not a magi for my looks.  Rest
now; all will be explained later\ldots'' Ilra soothed.

\section*{Part 10}

After what seemed to be only an instant, Scott was awakened with a
shake. He opened his eyes in panic, and saw Kalesh holding his hand over
Scott's mouth, stifling the scream that came. Kalesh merely put a finger
to his lips, signifying quiet.

As Scott's head stopped ringing with panic, he heard a dull voice
chanting in the background. Scott rose quietly, and saw Ilra sitting on
the floor, cross-legged, making bizarre patterns in the air with his
hands. As his hands moved, light would follow briefly, as if making a
trail of his movements. Scott turned to Kalesh, and asked him quietly of
the magi's intent, to which Kalesh merely shrugged. Kalesh then glared at
him, and stiffly motioned for quiet again.

After a few hours of this, Ilra's chanting got louder, and the air
sizzled with magic. The hair on Scott's neck stood up. A vertical line of
light appeared in the air, at which time Ilra stopped chanting. He stood
up, obviously exhausted, and put his hands in the sliver of light. He then
pulled it open, creating a round opening, perhaps 5 feet in diameter. He
motioned for Scott and Kalesh to enter this hole, and he followed
afterwards. 

As Scott entered the portal, he felt a momentary disorientation. After a
moment, as his head cleared, he noticed an office. There was a desk with
scrolls on it, a few chairs, and a candle. Ilra turned to Scott and said,
``We shall be safe here, for a few moments. There are things you need to
understand, so that you will be better prepared for what is destined to
come.'' 

Ilra continued, ``For many years, King Julia I ruled this land with
somewhat of an iron fist. She insisted, as monarch, that the old ways be
preserved. This was accepted, because many still believed in the old ways
and old order. As time wore on, however, she started doing things in the
name of lost principles and old beliefs. People eventually resented her
rule, as she was more of a tyrant than a monarch.

``Recently, she was `asked' to step down, via armed rebellion, and had
no choice but to do so, as her forces were badly beaten. She swore
vengeance, and still insists on it. This will give you some background as
to this land and its attitudes towards her.

``Now on to the story of my gutting, as you put it. Yes, it is true
that she knifed me. Yes, I bled. I was left for dead when she did this.
However, as I have indicated, I am not a magi based on my looks. I have
certain `talents', if you will. One of these is the art of regeneration.
Mind you, the price for such a gift is extreme, extreme enough to be
prohibitive to most people. I am not at liberty to give you these details.
Merely know that I cannot be killed by mortal means. There are very
specific, malignant ways to kill someone with such a gift, none of which
are pretty, nor painless. I tell you this so that, if at any time I appear
to be killed, you will know that I am not. If you repeat this to anyone, I
will need to have you killed. This seems drastic, but I have had this gift
for a great many years and have told no one save Kalesh, who cannot
tell, and you, who I doubt will tell. If King Julia or her allies were to
find this out you can, I'm sure, understand the ramifications it may have
on my life expectancy.

``Now, on the topic of your prophecy, there is a part of the prophecy
that is little known. Jastaric, the seer who wrote of this prophecy, knew
of it. When you first arrived here, I spoke with Jastaric. No, don't look
shocked. Remember, I am a magi. I have ways of doing these things, and no,
I will not teach you them.'' At this, Ilra smiled, anticipating Scott's
next question.

``You know the prophecy. Again, I will repeat it for you: `The
Marshall from dirt will drop in uninvited. In his wake, the chaos will be
removed.' I have managed to determine that there is a second condition to
this prophecy. The full prophecy, as it should read, is: `The Marshall
from dirt will drop in uninvited. In his wake, the chaos will be removed,
and Scarlet will be turned to Gold.'

``There is something you should know of our pursuit, something I have
considered only recently. I can not verify, nor deny, this. I have not the
time nor materials here to do so. There are such things known here as
Scarlet Ones. They are the embodiment of evil desires. Their presence
cannot mean good things for the target of their attentions, which is
probably, at the moment, you.  They are created out of the nether of the
Fireworld, and are of vicious nature. It is my opinion that part of your
destiny will be to turn these four malignant spirits into creatures of a
purer nature, to remove the evil from them. I know not of the method, nor
of its existence. I do know that this must be done, to preserve the land,
and restore order to chaos.''

Scott just stood there, looking blankly at Ilra. As words began to
fall from Scott's mouth, the ground shook. Ilra looked confused for a
moment, and then said hurriedly, ``Quickly! Join hands, and close your eyes!
The enemy is upon us!''

Outside of this sphere, the area they were just in, King Julia I
stood with her mages. They were invoking spells to warp and twist
space, to gain access to that sphere and end the prophecy, and her
troubles, all in one fell swoop. The sphere disappeared, and King Julia
screamed in anguish.

Inside, Ilra hurried through a spell, and the room shifted. As they
appeared in their new location, Ilra's face turned white. Before them
stood a man, emanating bright light, donning white robes with a red stripe
across the waist. ``Master Ilra, and Marshall, I assume?''

\section*{Part 11}

Dawn's saffron rays swept tenderly along the ruddy, blood-drenched 
terrain, a noble sight, or so he considered it. Here,
Julia's victims numbered in the hundreds. Their yellow, rotting
carcasses would soon to be sweltering beneath another hot sun,
another day of blistering heat, another day of death. The
fighting never stopped. He'd made sure of that.

He smiled, stepping carefully as he reflected on his good
fortune. This was a fine lot, their eyes glazed and puffy as they
stared skyward, dead fools dreaming of a demon's salvation. But
the demon was a fool too. They all were. Even she whose life he'd
spared a thousand ways.

``Aladar!''

She rode across the field, a cool morning breeze lifting the
cluttered leaves behind and to the fore as her stallion galloped,
indignant and pridefully contentious that its domain had been
trespassed. It shifted sporadically on its hooves, snorting
smoke, wild eyed and angry. A wise animal, he'd once remarked. It
knew both the show of strength and the wisdom of concealment. In
the latter, its master could use a lesson.

``Greetings, mine King. How fell a sight you make.'' He glanced
about the field of corpses, yet she took no notice of the veiled
insult, but dismounted, letting her vehicle graze among the
ragged bodies.

``I have no time for pleasantries, Aladar.''

``Then what, might I ask, brings so brave and self-reliant a
warrioress to pay visits with old Aladar?''

``The Marshall has escaped.''

He smiled. Her wretched steed had found the source of his
greatest satisfaction. Half-demon itself, freshly slain meat was
its oats, yet the decapitated head it held by the mane was no
mere mouthful. He chuckled as wisdom turned so deliberately into
stupidity.

``Again?''

``Do not mock me!''

Aladar pushed out a pointy finger, stroking his beard with its
long, jagged nail.

``Forgive all perceptions of mockery. I make not the most
comfortable companion for man nor woman nor beast no matter how
blackened of heart.''

Her stallion rose back on its hind legs and then bolted
terror-stricken from the field. Julia watched it disappear
between the fort's gates, her dark, blood stained hair sweeping
in the ruby light as she turned her head in shock.

``What did you do to him, Overlord?''

Aladar smiled, ``Not what I did. What they did.'' And with that,
he picked the head off the ground where her horse had dropped it,
cutting it with his nail and peeling away the surface skin
entirely. The eyes of the unfortunate warrior glowed a fiery
crimson shaded with the hue of dark deeds yet to be delivered.

``Come Julia. Let your eyes see that which your animal will
never forget.''

He cackled at the thought. A half-nightmare, with nightmares
for the rest of its days, so humorous a notion that he stamped
his foot to the ground. Julia simply turned away.

``I know what they are Aladar. Put it down lest you endanger
yourself.''

``Endanger myself?! Is it not I who captured them? Hmmm?''

She nodded. In necromancy, he had proven his powers well. It
was his trade, after all, though even his power, she doubted,
would steer the Scarlet Ones from their path. Their release would
mean the doom of her plans, a doom Aladar held firmly in hand,
cackling and wild-eyed.

``Is it not I who feed them even now?''

``We.''

``Hah!'' He waved his hand to the blood-soaked field. ``So many
souls it seems to you, but to them this is but a small morsel.
Without my will interposed between this bone casket and that
which they seek, how long do you suppose they would remain
satisfied to sit and wait? How long, Julia?!''

``I need your help, Aladar. I refused it before. I was wrong,
and I need it now.''

He smiled, so beautiful she became when she made concessions.
Yet her greatest concession was still restrained.

``You know the price.''

She bit her lip, turning away to face the rising sun. Her
hair, still drenched by the morning's kill, was beautiful. He let
his withered fingers touch the radiant strands.

``It is our destiny, Julia, to be together, souls intertwined.
How long have I served you? Helped you to become sovereign of
these lands. See how slippery power becomes when you refuse me?
You promised me, Julia. You promised.''

``And you changed, Aladar.''

``Of course I changed. You made certain of that. To break the
vows of the Overlords and intercede in the daily affairs of
nations\ldots\ to play favourites and court the necromantic demons. How
could that not change any man? My soul begs for your
understanding, Julia. But even moreso\ldots\ it begs for you.''

``Your soul may rot in hell!'' She twirled about, unsheathing
her sword, ``But it shall never have me. Never!''

\stars
It was a well laid path, even for horses, and though Scott
realised that he was far from the greatest equestrian, his steed
found no worry negotiating its surroundings. Caine, however,
seemed in a rush, urging the others by darting ahead as his
plain, white robes reflected the shifting shadows of branches in
the morning light.

Ilra and Kalesh kept well behind, however, their distance
from the stranger carefully planned even when he stopped to wait.
The two acted as though he might suddenly lash out and destroy
them with but a simple whim. To see Kalesh act such was not
disturbing, but the mighty wizard was another matter entirely.
Scott, though he had known Ilra for only a few days, had never
believed the old man could exhibit such awe. It was, in short, a
mystery, as Scott saw no such reason for fear. The stranger seemed
kind and concerned, though he would not elaborate further on his
identity except to say he was a friend and to insist that they
accompany him from the vicinity. On this, even Ilra had been
willing to agree, yet still the wizard remained wary of Caine, as
though the red belt he wore signified a greatness beyond that of
kings and even wizards.

``Ilra,'' Scott whispered, ``what is it?''

``Take care, boy. See how the plants part to either side as he
leads. To tread beside one such as he is to invite the serpent's
kiss.''

Scott looked and blinked at what he saw. The grasses did,
indeed, idle to either side, branches swaying forth by the wind's
gentle touch, and even the roots of great trees burrowed beneath
the surface to make way.

Ilra squirmed in his saddle, ``You see, boy? And without a
single utterance.''

``How's he doing it?''

``Without the benefit of magic one must figure, for he carries
no items of that peculiar quality, nor has he whispered so much
as a syllable from the Language of Creation. Perhaps a
technologist such as yourself knows of greater powers still.''

Scott patted his horse on its rump, propelling himself
forward, alongside the stranger.

``Mister Caine.''

``Just Caine.''

``I could not help but notice strange things about you.''

The man smiled, ``Within a wizard's whispers, many things are
noticed.''

``Where are you taking us?''

``To safety.''

Scott considered it a plain answer, straightforward and
unambiguous at face value, yet behind it, what premises and
unspoken sentiments must ramble invisible to reason.

``Could you be more specific?''

``Yes.''

Again Scott waited, and yet no further utterance could his
silence illicit.

``Caine, you seem to know a great deal about us, but we know
nothing about you.''

``For good reason.''

``My point is\ldots\ how do we know we can trust you?''

``You don't.''

``I see.'' Scott reared up on the saddle, reaching out to catch
a nearby branch which had kindly turned aside to let him pass.
His horse sensed the hesitation, halting in its tracks, and Caine
stopped as well, turning his steed about.

``What do you think you're doing?''

``I'm stopping.''

``We aren't safe yet.''

Scott nodded, ``That's what worries me.''

Ilra and Kalesh caught up within a few moments, stopping
their steeds also. Ilra attempted a smile, but it looked as
insincere as his fear was obvious.

``What seems to be the problem?''

``Your companion is obstinate, wizard.''

Scott nodded, ``Damn right, I am.''

Caine sighed, turning his horse again to the trail which
formed obediently ahead.

``Come, Marshall. I will tell you what I may, but the others
must stay well behind.''

``Is that okay with you guys?''

Ilra made a surly face. ``Suits me all the better.''

Caine rode slowly, dimly perplexed. As with all such tales, it
was not easy finding a place to begin.

``In case you haven't guessed yet, I am an Overlord.''

Scott nodded, ``The thought had occurred to me.''

``At this time, I act on behalf of another, a close friend and
the most recent convener of our high council. His name is
Quintus, and he is without exception the wisest man I know.''

``You're taking me to him?''

``At first, that was not his intention. He learned of you, yes,
but he was concerned for your safety and what you could do for
this world, not what you could do for any individual among us. I
don't know if anyone has told you, Marshall, but you're here for
a reason.''

Scott looked down at his steed's mane. Dark and fine, the hue
reminded him of Chris, of her hair. With the gentle breeze it
shifted, left to right, like the scar on her face, Julia's scar.

``Are you listening to me, Marshall?''

``Call me Scott.''

Caine smiled, ``Okay\ldots\ Scott. Since you wanted so much to hear
my voice, listen and listen well. You have great power. Your
spell weaving friend back there fears us, but we fear you.
Quintus believes that you are the magi of prophecy that this
world has been waiting for. The only problem is that you're weak.
You're untrained, and you're desperately out of touch with this
world and its problems.''

``I've seen one of its problems.''

``Julia.''

``You know her?''

``She used to rule these lands. Somehow she and her armies
became invincible in battle, undying until their fight was won.
Yet, as she began to re-institute the old laws against magic to
the detriment of the idle and comfortable living of her subjects,
her popularity waned. Her soldiers began to fight among
themselves, and some say that even the dead had prophesied her
downfall.''

``Why does she want me?''

``For the same reason others want you. Once you are properly
trained, you will make the power of armies, wizards and even the
Overlords seem like child's play by comparison. They want merely
to wield you and then slice out your heart once their place in
power is assured.''

``Is that what Quintus wants?''

Caine laughed, ``Would I be telling you this if it were? No\ldots\
he wants you to save this world, not put it under the thumb of
some dictator. He asked for my aid, and I told him I would locate
you.''

``You've done more than that.''

``I followed the Scarlet Ones hoping they would lead me to you.
It was my intention only to find what had become of you, as even
I could not very well challenge them. However, during the chase I
noticed Aladar on the very horizon of my perception.''

``Aladar?''

``Another Overlord. He was practising the forbidden magic, and
very competently I might add. He enticed the four demons to a
feast in honour of their quest and then entrapped them.''

``That's good.''

Caine grinned at the false assumption.

``Not necessarily. Julia was close-by. She and Aladar conferred
shortly. Then she and her soldiers and mages unwittingly led me
to you. I remained invisible and used my powers to shuttle you to
safety. If Aladar still has the Scarlet Ones, he can release them
at any time. It is now clear to me that he has broken the pact,
that he has been taking sides in worldly affairs right beneath
our noses, secretly inciting wars which we were trying
clandestinely to stop. He must have first sided with Julia,
though why he allowed her to fall from power and why he did not
accompany her to capture you is still a mystery. It is
unimportant now. He has proven himself a traitor, though I
suspect that he isn't the first. Once the others hear of this,
there will be greater conflict between the Overlords than ever
before, conflict which we must solve. And with your help, we
will.''

Scott nodded, though he didn't feel particularly relieved.

``What about the Scarlet Ones? Can the combined powers of the
Overlords stop them?''

Caine stared gravely ahead.

``No. They are of another world, bred to be invulnerable
against beings of this sphere as we Overlords have over time
become. Only someone of another world, untainted and pure as
yourself, can permanently effect them, though Aladar with his
necromancy has proven himself able to influence and trap them
at least temporarily. The one who must ultimately stop them,
however, is you.''

``I don't know how.''

``Quintus will know. He will be your tutor, if you are indeed
the magi of prophesy.''

Scott shook his head, visions of the plane crash still firmly
in mind.

``And what if I'm just going crazy?''

Caine smiled, ``Quintus told me you might say something like
that.''

``Well, this is all rather hard to stomach\ldots\ Earth one
minute\ldots\ weirdness the next. Did Quintus have any solutions or
did his wise holiness just realise in some blinding flash of
insight that I might be a little disoriented?''

``He told me that the solution was already apparent to you, but
that you would reject it\ldots\ that your people respect logic above
faith even when it comes to matters of the soul. He then told me
to ask you two questions. Not solutions, but merely questions.''

``Ask away.''

``If you are crazy, if you are now being questioned by a
figment of your imagination, what then do you have to lose by
playing along?''

``My dignity.''

``And if you're sane, if I am real and what happens in this
world matters, what then do you have to lose by ignoring your
senses and neglecting your conscience?''

Scott smiled, ``Your Quintus is a very convincing fellow. He
doesn't have green blood and pointy ears does he?''

\section*{Part 12}

``Lollaraknaknak!!'' Scott bellowed to a tiny stone before him.  His
magick had not improved since his last lesson.  The stone quivered for 
a second in its place, but certainly did not lift itself from the ground,
which was what Ilra had intended.

``Why is this not working Ilra?  Why does everyone believe I have
so much power when I cannot even perform the most everyday magicks?  Am
I pronouncing the words of Creation correctly?''  Scott asked his friend.

``Perhaps that is a factor.  Concentrate, boy, just concentrate!
Think only of moving the stone!'' Ilra muttered, as the two sat among the
grasses by a gentle stream.  The water weaved in and out between the 
rocks on the banks --- Ilra had brought them to this place because it looked
peaceful and tranquil.  He had seen far too much excitement these past few
days.  

Caine had delivered them safely from harm for the moment.  His
`workers' had put the distance between them and the Scarlet Ones at close 
to a day's travel.  Perhaps more, if his creatures of the night kept good 
their word, Caine thought.  Kalesh was busy sharpening his throwing blades, 
and the Overlord himself was nowhere to be found since breakfast.

``Once again, Scott, concentrate.  You will never believe in yourself
and your abilities unless you practise until you get it right!''  Ilra 
proposed.  Scott's headache had gotten worse.  He was convinced that he
was a nut-and-bolt man trapped in an eye-of-newt world.  Why should a 
rock just pick itself up into mid-air for no apparent reason?  Scott's 
doubts were getting the better of him.

``I can't Ilra.  It's no use.''

``C'mon magi.  Concentrate!''  Ilra begged.

``No, that is not the way,'' the voice of Caine objected.  In his 
white robes and red belt, the Overlord appeared from behind a tree to 
observe the two fledgling magicians.

``It isn't?'' questioned Ilra.  

``It isn't?'' repeated Scott.

``No.  Scott, let your mind wander.  Don't blank it out.  Think
of the trees about you, and the river, and the grasses and your friends
from far away.  That is where the power comes from.  It doesn't just pop
out of nowhere,'' Caine lectured.

``But what about the force lines?'' Ilra asked.

``They are just a device to focus.  They add no power.  Try again,
Scott.  Let the rock be just a part of your mind's wanderings.''

``No magic words?''

``No magic words.''

Scott sat down by the river and rested.  Splashing some water on
his face and arms, he sat back and squinted in the noonday sun.  His mind
ran wild in this dream-state.  There were no perils here.  No Scarlet Ones,
no armoured knights of Kosgar, no cave-ins.  There were no project 
deadlines, no bills, no birthdays to remember.  Just the lapping of the  
stream by the bank, the wind making the leaves in the trees whisper, the 
sunlight breathing its beauty on the land.  

Scott's eyes looked over the land and those standing about him
motionlessly.  He glanced hesitantly at the stone --- a grey-brown circular
one, and was amazed at how he never noticed before that it seemed to stand
out from all the rest.  His mind played with the rock, his eyes followed
its contours, its shape, its beauty and ugliness against the blue backdrop
of the\ldots\ sky?

And suddenly Scott felt winded, as if taking a blow to the stomach.
The rock made a smack as it fell in the stream.  

\stars
King Julia I smiled, her sword gleaming in the rays of the sun as
Aladar stood some paces away.

``You fool.  Look at you,'' she ordered the grey-haired Aladar, the 
weaver of potent death magick.  ``You're an old man.  Withered and dying.
Now look at me!  Youth and power are mine.  I can have any man I want!  I 
can seduce a man, use him for my purposes, and then send him to his grave!
I hold reign over a vast army!  My forces have already taken Kosgar from
the throne.  Don't ever believe that you can intimidate me, you worthless
dead fucker!'' 

Aladar looked like he had expected this.  His composure was calm
and collected as he stood his ground, gazing into her eyes.  Those 
gorgeous blue eyes.  Pity, he thought.

``Aren't you going to threaten me with that magic ward engraved
into your necklace, Princess?'' Aladar asked her.

``That's {\em king\/}, you miserable piece of shit!''  Julia's smile had
faded, and the grip on her sword was loose as her hands shook.  She pulled
her eyes away from his glare and down to the gemstone necklace hung about
her neck.  There was a pentagram of some sort encased within a sparkling
emerald.

As it lay on her breast, she caught a fleeting glimpse of Aladar 
raising and opening his hand.  His breath uttered whispers to the wind.
The light that played on the gem shied away, as its colour faded from 
green to brown, then black, until Julia wore just a piece of obsidian
around her neck.  The necklace then promptly snapped and fell to the ground,
as did Julia's runic broadsword.  She looked at Aladar again, and this
time he seemed much younger, and quite attractive.  Julia wondered
why she had never seen Aladar in this particular way ever before.
Her hands stopped shaking as she approached him.  A branch rustled in
the wind.

\stars
Scott devoured almost a whole loaf of bread with honey at supper 
that evening.  Caine's rations had turned out to be wholesome and yet
very delicious to the taste.  He forbade Scott to go hunting for meat.
Apparently, Caine held dear the power of nature itself.

The dried, dead wood they used in their fire that evening lit
easily and burned a long time.  Scott and Ilra talked about their next
lesson; Kalesh was, appropriately, silent, and Caine seemed deep in thought.

As the coals burned low, Scott's mind wandered to Chris, and to the
King.  He was so confused, he wanted to cry.  He wanted to miss her, but
his mind refused.  Here he was far away, and all he had to believe in was
himself.  Chris had turned her back on him\ldots\

Scott opened his eyelids a second, or perhaps a minute, or perhaps
an hour later.  He knew at once that something was amiss.  Caine was not
resting as Ilra and Kalesh were.  He was squatting behind a tree, his eyes
wide open, scouring the darkness for anything.  His ears twitched at the
slightest chirp of a cricket.  

``Caine?'' Scott whispered.

Caine turned about, and in the darkness, his eyes betrayed a fear
unlike anything that Scott had ever seen before.  Scott became frightened, 
mortified.  In a half whisper, Caine breathed a warning.  

``Wake your friends, mage.  We've got company.''

\section*{Part 13}

Caine rose slowly to a crouch and loped off into the dark. Scott
strained to find his figure, the rustle of footsteps fading into
the sounds of the night. There was the sound of a branch snapping, 
a gasp, and Caine returned. He dragged a figure behind him.

The militia-man shook and twisted around Caine's grasp, his mouth 
opening and closing spasmodically with fear. His face was streaked 
with blood and dust. ``I\ldots\ my lord\ldots\ I mean no harm\ldots''

His voice was cut off by Caine cuffing him with his free hand. 
``You miserable spying piece of scum. Tell this to your tyrant 
employers.''

Metal gleamed dully and the peasant screamed. A shadow loomed up 
and eclipsed his features, followed by a squawk of surprise. 
Suddenly the scene was illuminated, showing Kalesh forcing Caine's 
knife hand down and backwards. The prisoner had broken free and 
fallen, sprawling over some loose bedding.

``I don't think there's 
any need to kill him, Caine,'' said Ilra mildly, holding a torch 
aloft and stepping over to him. ``He's obviously not an assassin. 
A scout, maybe. But from where? Perhaps he has come to tell us 
something.'' The shadows on the magician's face deepened. ``Or tell 
one of us in particular.'' He kicked the prisoner. ``Well?''

Gasping for air, the prone figure tilted his head back to look at 
Ilra. ``But my lord\ldots'' He stopped, obviously summing up his 
situation. ``King Julia has started killing prisoners and placing 
their bodies on pikes along the road. One of the bodies is that of
the mageling, Alejo Ilra.''

The party was still. Caine lurched and, taking advantage of Kalesh's
surprise, twisted free. Scott stumbled forwards, reaching, as 
Caine's arm flung forward. A brief flicker of motion, Kalesh 
wrestling with Caine, and Scott hit the ground.

My hand is wet, he thought. I've been cut. That isn't Ilra.

The magician tossed the torch to the ground amongst them and threw 
something amidst the flames. The light momentarily flared up and a 
shape unfurled within the torch. Planes and curves unwrapped and swept 
out, like an origami figure in reverse, except growing, stretching 
out. Ilra retrieved Caine's knife from next to Scott and threw it 
in the pyre. A long protruding surface sharpened, curled, 
developed feathers. A growing spire looped downwards and formed a 
beak. The phoenix stretched upwards and out and screeched.

``Oh, please no,'' groaned Caine, now restrained by Kalesh.

``Kirsten Gupta Mendez, Time Patrol,'' said Ilra. ``Your ass is 
mine.''

Caine shrieked with incoherent rage.

\stars
The imposter finished speaking as he gave one last tug at the 
bandage on Scott's hand. ``Fortunately, Caine's knife appears to be 
clean. There shouldn't be any infection.'' He gave a derisive 
glance at the Overlord. Since the events of the night, Caine's 
spirit seemed to have broken and he had sat down and scowled at 
the ground for the last four hours. ``Once his majesty has finished 
sulking, you might want to ask him to have a look at this. Knife 
wounds aren't really within my gift. Thanks for intercepting it. 
Dying would have inconvenient at the least.''

Scott looked around the camp. The malaise appeared to be 
universal. Kalesh roved around the edge of the clearing, peering 
into the scrub and studiously avoiding Ilra's (Kirsten's?) gaze. 
Even the phoenix, having spent the early dawn leaping from tree to 
tree chasing small animals and screeching, had settled onto a low 
branch and stuck its head under one wing in an attempt to sleep. 
``And what is your gift?''

Ilra shrugged. ``Well, it's like the job description says. 'Cept 
it's more like `Dimensional Patrol'. But that doesn't sound 
dramatic enough. It's the dramatic things I enjoy about this job.'' 
He looked wistfully at the dozing bird.

``Would it be futile for me to ask you, like I've asked everyone 
else I've met here, exactly what is going on?''

Smiling, Ilra leaned back, hands behind head. ``Not at all. I've 
found your story fascinating and, noblesse oblige, I must tell you 
mine.'' He spread his hands wide. ``This is how it is.

``Imagine the universe's creation occurring a hundred, a thousand 
times over. Now imagine it happening simultaneously, side by side. 
The universe expands, cools, planets form, time passes. A thousand 
copies of the solar system, a million copies of Earth, of your 
town, your neighbourhood, of you.

``Strictly speaking, they're not separate dimensions either,'' said 
Ilra dreamily. ``Separate realities. None more equal or fundamental 
than any other. Coexisting, never meeting.''

Things were more complicated. Realities pulled towards each 
other, some causal Law of Thermodynamics pressured the worlds to 
look like each other. Universes careered off on their own unique 
paths, but eventually ended up looking the same. Same people, same 
you. Mostly.

Kirsten's world (``let's keep this simple and keep calling me 
Ilra'') entered the industrial revolution about fifty years ahead 
of the norm, discovering the multiverse about mid-twentieth 
century. ``So while {\em I\/} work for the Patrol, in an infinite number 
of other realities I'm an accountant or a broker.'' Ilra called to 
the bird which awoke and flew to land at his side. He (she?) 
ruffled the feathers at its neck and stroked behind its head, 
frowning. ``I once visited an Earth that was completely different in 
even the smallest way, apparently just because the Swedes had lost 
at Poltava. Very strange place. Most worlds are very similar. But 
not this one. This one here.''

{\em Here\/}, Elish,  was very divergent, a wild card reality peeling 
away from all others ``in the immediate nth-dimensional 
neighbourhood''. But the pressures were building up between worlds, 
like stresses at a fault-line. Tension tugged along the lines that 
joined universes, pulling and pushing, attempting to resolve the 
differences. Potential energy coiled up, until some future 
cataclysmic moment at which something would give. ``Presumably the 
worlds will suddenly converge again. Until then more and more 
strange things are going to happen due to the conflicting 
realities. And you're one of them.''

``That comforts me no end.''

``Don't knock it, not many people get to see a dimensional 
bifurcation at first hand. And once it occurs, soon I think, you 
should be snapped back to your own reality. Until then you just 
have to stay alive.''

``So send me back to Earth. My Earth. Or go back in time and sort 
this out.''

 ``Tried that once already. You snapped right back. My partner --- 
he's in Sura-Nord right now working on the other end of this --- 
says there are certain non-linear activities that \ldots\ well it just 
won't work. And we can't go back or forward in time, just across, 
although this does allow a sort of time-hopping.'' The phoenix 
collapsed onto itself and shrivelled up to a small ball that Ilra 
put in a pocket. ``Love the Patrol mascots. So after seeing that 
strange things were afoot, we decided to snoop around and I 
replaced the unfortunate Ilra after he was killed by that charmer 
Julia. Presumably she's this world's analogue to your Chris. 
Amazing what difference a public school education can do.''

``And are you going to do anything?''

The alien lazily scratched himself. ``Probably. It appears the 
scum,'' he nodded at Caine, ``may be pulling off their own 
dimensional tampering. Bringing in things from other worlds, 
sending stuff out. That makes my partner and I very uneasy. If the 
Overlords know about the impending collapse they might try to stop 
it to preserve the status quo. Lord knows what crude dimensional 
tampering might do. Maybe nothing. Unfortunately the Patrol is 
rather over-extended. Three hundred operatives and limited 
equipment to cover an infinite continuum stretches rather thin. 
And even the closest of our neighbouring dimensions is a long way 
away.''

``So what am I supposed to do?'' Scott said despairingly.

Ilra held up a hand and numbered off. ``Both groups of Overlords 
seem to think you're important to their current plans, although 
they seem to disagree as to whether you're detrimental or 
advantageous. Julia One is just plain pissed, as well as being 
half-mad. Kosgar and Julia Two --- ah, they probably don't love you 
either. Alejo Ilra thought you might be a legendary saviour as 
well as his ticket back into fame and the King's favour. 
Incidentally that magic bit is schlock, cheap tricks. Sorry I had 
to keep up the deceit.'' He exhaled and widened his eyes 
theatrically, looking at his hand. ``Then there's Rameshan --- dunno 
what's happening there. Let us assume that they're unfriendly until
proven otherwise. Avoid anything in a red cloak. The Patrol\ldots'' 
he grinned again, ``We just love an underdog. As well as being 
incurable busybodies.''

``Marshall!'' Caine had come to life, facing Scott, hands clenched 
and face boiling with anger. ``The alien could have replaced Alejo 
any time. Think of that!''

``This also,'' Ilra said sweetly, ``is true.''

\section*{Part 14}

The small group broke camp that morning.

``We'll head that way,'' Ilra indicated a trail following the stream. ``I'm
nervous about being somewhere we can be found. You,'' he looked at the
prisoner they had captured during the night, ``can ride with him, seeing
as he has the strongest mount.'' He nodded in Caine's direction. ``I'm sure
without a knife he won't be too dangerous.''

Caine glared at Ilra, then leapt into the saddle. The scout hesitated for
a second, then followed as Caine waved him up. Caine turned and whispered
something to his passenger.

``And don't even think about it,'' interjected Ilra. ``Believe me, you
wouldn't like how I'd have to stop you.''

Caine shut his mouth firmly, turned to face forwards, and spurred his
horse ahead at a slow walk. Scott could almost feel the tension between
the two men\ldots

Men? That reminded him of something. As he, Ilra and Kalesh followed
Caine's horse, he asked, ``Ilra\ldots\ er, Kirsten\ldots\ I presume
you're wearing some sort of disguise?''

Ilra smiled at him. ``I was wondering when you'd ask that. And yes, I am a
woman under here. But I'll stick with this Ilra shape and voice until it
becomes safe to do otherwise. As I said, dying would be inconvenient, but
dying with high-tech gadgetry hanging off me could be disastrous. Who
knows what Caine and his friends could do if they got hold of a working
inter-D radio?''

``Mmmm.'' Scott digested this information as he bounced along the trail.
Another thought occurred to him. ``What you said about dimensional
analogues, like Julia I and Chris\ldots\ is there a copy of me running around
here on Elish somewhere?''

``An interesting question,'' answered Ilra. ``Naturally, we've looked for
him, whoever he is, but we haven't come up with any good candidates yet.
The theories say there should be one, although they don't necessarily
imply that he has to be messed up in all of this. He could easily be a
simple farmer out in the countryside around Sanakin, for all we know. Or,
and this is where it gets tricky, he might also be a major player in
what's going on.''

``What happens if I meet him?'' Scott asked, thinking that perhaps he might
not like the answer.

``Dunno. It's never happened before. In all honesty, the theories range
from the end of the multiverse to absolutely no consequence at all.
Personally, I don't see how anything nasty can happen. I mean, you're
already in this dimension twice, as it were. Big deal. Meeting someone is
a rather fuzzy concept anyway. Is telephone enough? Being at the same
party? Shaking hands? How's the universe gonna know the difference?''

``I guess so,'' said Scott, still turning the thought over in his mind.

\stars
Malkett's steed galloped into the camp about two hours after sunrise. The
great grey beast was heaving with the exertion of the ride, and the
messenger himself was weary from the morning's travel.

Two guards rose from the fallen log by one of the fires and took the
horse's reins. Malkett dismounted and breathed quickly at one of the
guards, ``Where's King Julia? Urgent message from Kosgar the Mighty.''

``Urgent enough to interrupt her?'' the guard grinned. He indicated a tent
with a motion of his head. ``She's still inside.'' He paused significantly.
``With Aladar.''

The second guard sniggered. A mixture of worried indecision and ultimate
disgust crept over Malkett's face.

\stars
Dimension travellers, Scott thought as his horse carried him along by the
stream. The rhythmic sound of the hooves on the path and the water on the
rocks of the streambed helped to focus his mind on the situation.

At least that makes some sort of sense, he reasoned. Magic can't possibly
work. Newton and Einstein and people like that put paid to that idea.
Clearly there were a few things they hadn't discovered. But dimension
travelling sounded scientific, not like the gabble old Ilra spouted. He
must have been mad, after all. Kirsten's the only person who's made sense
since this whole thing began. Technology --- now that's something I can
understand, I can really believe in.

Technology and magic. Wasn't there some science fiction writer who'd said
something about that once\ldots

``Marshall.''

Scott looked to his left, where Caine had allowed his horse to drop back
into step with his own. Caine's passenger was ignoring them both, staring
out at the lightly wooded scenery. Checking over his shoulder, Scott saw
that Ilra and Kalesh were a half-dozen horse-lengths behind.

``What do you want, Caine?''

Caine winced at the tone of disapproval in Scott's voice. ``Marshall,'' he
began gently, ``you must not let your guard down. You were wary with me.
I would advise you to be wary with this imposter as well.''

Scott frowned. ``You know, for someone who holds dear the power of nature
and respects all life, you were pretty darn quick to pull a knife on
your friend there last night.''

``He would not have killed me,'' the man behind Caine said, turning to face
Scott. He smiled and spoke softly. ``Dellabon, follower of Overlord Caine
of the far south. Pleased to meet you, Marshall.''

``Dellabon has been filling me in on the latest happenings with Julia,
Aladar, and the Scarlet Ones,'' said Caine as Scott stared at the men in
surprise. ``I was aware that something strange had happened to Alejo Ilra,
but only Dellabon could tell me what it was. I'm afraid our little plan
last night did not go as well as I had hoped. Your interception of my
knife was certainly not what I had in mind. Still,'' Caine thought for a
second, ``you are the Marshall. Perhaps it was fated that the imposter
should not be captured yet.''

Scott stared at Caine. This was too much to take in one go. Technology
and dimension travelling made some sort of sense. Strange plans and
prophecies and fates did not. ``Do you expect me to swallow that?''

``I do not ask you to trust me,'' Caine continued, ``but merely that neither
do you trust who Ilra has become. You must decide for yourself when things
become clearer. Do not let your decision be tainted by prejudice.'' He
glanced quickly at Ilra, who was catching up, then gave Scott a piercing
look.

In his eyes, Scott saw both the power and confidence of the Overlord, and
the impotence and entreaty of one who wishes to save his world, but knows
not how.

\stars
``You idiot!'' roared King Julia. Malkett quavered under her wrath. He had
decided to wait and, when he had seen Aladar's expression as he left
Julia's tent, had concluded that it was the right decision. Now at least
only the King was angry at him.

``Go tell Kosgar that I didn't defeat him just so that we could form an
alliance! I don't need his help to hold Cartha. I'll hunt him down and
grind his bones into the dirt. Half his army have already sworn allegiance
to me\ldots''

``Now, now, my dear,'' Aladar said softly from behind her. ``You must
consider the possibilities first. A man like Kosgar could be useful.''

Malkett looked fearfully at Julia, seeing the rage building in her face.
She breathed deeply and he cowered, preparing for the onslaught. Then she
let the breath out slowly and said calmly, ``No, tell Kosgar that I would
be delighted to accept his offer of an alliance. I will ride to his camp
this evening to discuss terms with him. Go.''

Malkett scurried away, relieved to have escaped. Is it possible that
Aladar has tamed her, he wondered as he made his way to his horse.

Julia waited until the messenger had left. She could feel Aladar's eyes
on her back. Sliding up her body. Caressing her hair, her neck.

She took another deep breath and spun around, mailed fist clenched tight.
The look on his face as she connected with his chin and sent him
sprawling unconscious to the soil brought a smile to her lips.

``You bastard,'' she spat, ``When I no longer need you, you had best be
better prepared than that.''

She looked around at the pair of guards nearby. ``What are you staring at?!
Get this camp organised! Where's General Tarllyn? I want this army ready
to move by noon!''

\stars

\begin{itemize}
\item Part 1 was written by k.mencher (unixwiz@mcl.mcl.ucsb.edu)
\item Part 2 was written by p-m agapow (agapow@latcs1.lat.oz.au)
\item Part 3 was written by Dennis Brennan (djb6@midway.uchicago.edu)
\item Part 4 was written by Brandon Gillespie (sl7sg@cc.usu.edu)
\item Part 5 was written by David Mar (mar@astrop.physics.su.oz.au)
\item Part 6 was written by Steve McKee (mckee@csd.uwo.ca)
\item Part 7 was written by p-m agapow (agapow@latcs1.lat.oz.au)
\item Part 8 was written by David Mar (mar@astrop.physics.su.oz.au)
\item Part 9 was written by Dan Johnson (flash@ac.dal.ca)
\item Part 10 was written by Jeff Gostin (jgostin@eternal.chi.il.us)
\item Part 11 was written by Jim Vassilakos (jimv@ucrmath.ucr.edu)
\item Part 12 was written by Steve McKee (mckee@csd.uwo.ca)
\item Part 13 was written by p-m agapow (agapow@latcs1.lat.oz.au)
\item Part 14 was written by David Mar (mar@astrop.physics.su.oz.au)
\end{itemize}

\end{document}
