Into the Land of the Elves: Making Amends

The Diary of Miss Aidyn Hall, traitor

August 28

5:00 PM

Making Amends

       I left the Greenwood on Monday afternoon, and I haven't been back since. I spent my last two days there avoiding everybody, including Apple Blossom, until she decided that she missed my company after her Monday lesson. I was holed up in the fairy tale room, scribbling away in my notepad. It had become my favorite room in the palace, and I suppose that's why she thought to look for me there.

       “Hey,” I said, peering over my notepad to look at her.

       “Hey.” She sat down beside me. I didn't bother to ask if she was still mad at me. We were silent for a good long while.

       “I'm leaving today,” I informed her without looking up.

       “You don't have to,” she protested. You could've knocked me down with a feather! “I don't have to?” I asked, making sure that I heard her correctly.

       “No,” she answered, “you don't have to.”

        I couldn't believe it! She wasn't angry! I had spelled out full intent to betray her and her people, and yet she still wasn't angry! She even wanted me to stick around! If anything, that made me feel even more like a jerk and even less like I deserved to stay an extra day. “Apple Blossom,” I said, trying to smile, “you are the kindest little soul I know, and I really mean that. But I've got to get home to my own world.” My own world—that's what it is, and I'm no better than any one of the other “tan-skinned beasts” that define it. I could see why the Jadeites, and the tree elves before them, hated us so. Our very nature goes against every bit of theirs, and Apple Blossom's insatiable kindness and the reluctant but unruffled tolerance of her people provided living proof of that.

       “Okay,” Apple Blossom conceded, “but I liked having you around here, Aidyn. It was just like you were my real sister. You'll come stay with me again sometime, won't you?”

I set down my notepad and gave her a big hug. But I had no answer beyond, “We'll see.” I hoped she wouldn't automatically take that as a no, the way that human children so often do.

       Before I packed up, she rounded up her band of friends and we all played together on the banks of the Bell's Rush, chasing and frolicking and tossing rocks into the water to make satisfying “plops.” At one point, Wildflower came running over to me with her fist curled around something. “What did you catch?” I asked, and was appalled to see her fingers clasped around a terrified little fairy, wailing something unintelligible as she struggled to get free. “Let her go, Wildflower!” I said sternly. “Let her go right now!” Stunned, Wildflower set the fairy down, and I did my best to help the poor thing uncurl her wings and get back on her feet. She took off as soon as she was able to leave the ground, and I turned to Wildflower. “Don't you ever do anything like that again, you hear me? You could have really hurt that poor little fairy!” I guess I'd raised my voice a little bit too much, for she recoiled like I had boxed her ears, and I softened. “What if some much bigger thing picked you up and squeezed you in its hand? You would be scared, wouldn't you?” She nodded. “Then you don't do it to anyone else,” I told her. “You don't do things to others that you wouldn't want others to do to you.” It was part of the Golden Rule, a human philosophy that so many humans neglected to follow. “If you want to show me a fairy,” I went on, “then you lead me to her. You don't pick her up and take her to me. Do you understand?”

       She nodded again, and I patted her on the head. I wasn't sure that she understood all of that, but I knew she wouldn't squeeze the life out of fairies anymore. When I returned home late that afternoon, and my phone service returned with me, I realized that I myself had been neglecting that Golden Rule. My phone was backed up with unread texts and missed calls from Katie; it was the first time she had ever been completely unable to reach me during a retreat. As I scrolled through those texts, I ruminated on just how horribly I had treated my former best friend. Yes, she had messed up and destroyed my trust in her, but even before that, I had treated her like crap. After spending the whole summer avoiding her in favor of this entire secret life I had, I'd finally let her in on the secret, as we had done with all of our secrets ever since the day we met. She had only wanted to be a part of it, and not only had I denied her that, but I made an active attempt to drive her away. Maybe she told the others because she was concerned. Maybe she told the others because she was tired of my crap.

       But still, in doing so, she had put the Jadeites in danger...or had she? If they were in any danger, they didn't seem to know it. The king himself did nothing more than turn his passive-aggressive silence on me; no sentries were posted, the gates remained open and unguarded, no preparations were made for a possible attack. And really, what had Katie done? She told two nobodies that I was telling stories about an elf in the woods. It wasn't exactly unusual for me to tell stories. Did they even believe her? They'd seemed pretty convinced that we were pulling their legs, or that I had gone out of my mind and taken Katie with me. Never once did they indicate that they would go stomping through an elven forest, destroying everything in their path, all because of a story. Why in the world would they do that, even if they did believe the story?

       They wouldn't. I had assumed that they would because of what I saw in those books, what I'd heard from Apple Blossom, and how I had been regarded by the Jadeites since day one. I hated humans—my own kind, as if I was any better!--because the Jadeites hated humans. I viewed them as ugly, beastly creatures simply because I had been told to, without ever learning the whole story behind it. In turn, I had become an ugly beastly creature; a horrible person who treated one set of friends like dirt and betrayed another one.

       I hate myself.

9:25 PM

       I've never been to the Greenwood so late in the day before. After a visit with Katie, I headed on over to see Apple Blossom. I had actually contemplated taking Katie with me, but decided that it just wasn't the right time.

      It is Katie's custom to bombard me with questions at the end of every retreat, and since this was the first one I'd returned from with no pictures or souvenirs (I hadn't thought to take any pictures), her question supply had increased tenfold. On the day of my return, I had been subjected to an hour-and-a-half-long phone call about where I had gone, and what the environment was like, and what I did there, and how deep in the woods it had to be to cut out my phone service. And it pains me to say that I lied my way through that entire phone call. Though I had decided to forgive Katie and understood that I had been a bad friend to her, I wasn't yet ready to tell her where I had really been for those four days. Today, though, I told her everything, leaving out the betrayal because she had asked about my vacation and that had nothing to do with it. I watched her eyes grow wider with every word I said (amusingly enough, she reminded me of Apple Blossom). When I finished, she had fallen into a sort of haze, and I knew that she needed a few moments to take all of it in. The first thing she said was,       “So that's why you weren't able to answer your phone.”

      “No phone service in the Greenwood,” I told her.

      “So they actually let you stay in the castle?” she asked, as if to make sure she had heard me correctly. “You're not making just that part up?”

       “I'm not making anything up,” I told her. “They let me stay there, and they want me to do it again, or at least Apple Blossom does.”

       Katie shook her head, and I wondered if this was just a little too wild for her to believe. I mentally cursed myself for not thinking to take any pictures. Finally, she said, “Aidyn, you are the most amazing person I know. At this point, if you told me that you've been to Narnia or to Atlantis or to Fairyland, I would believe you without question. If anybody could bring a world to life that we all thought was only part of a story, it would be you. All of my life, I'd never believed in things like fairies and elves. I figured they were only little stories to tell children to make the world more interesting. When you grow up, you know it's all make-believe. But now, I don't know what make-believe is anymore. A part of me still wants to believe that this is all an elaborate prank, but at the same time, I know that it can't be. I've met the elf, and she's as much an elf as an elf could be. It's as if you've managed to cross the line between reality and fantasy, so that now everything that was make-believe is real. You've done something that we've all wanted to do when we were children, but just couldn't figure out how. We just couldn't find the way, because we were all told that there was no real way to find. Aidyn, you have no idea how much I want your life!”

       She spoke with longing, her voice increasing in volume and speed with every sentence. If I had the key to Narnia, the door to Atlantis, or the gate to Fairyland, she wanted to go in with me...

       On my way to the magnolia archway, I half-expected to find my way closed off and the Greenwood soldiers' spear tips pointed right at me. But when I got there, the web was raised as if I had been expected all day. Apple Blossom was not there, which unnerved me until I reminded myself that it was very late in the day; usually, if I hadn't shown up by then, I wasn't going to. As I made my way to the Greenwood alone for the very first time, every sudden rustle of a shrub in the wind or a bird hopping through the leaf litter gave me a fright. I couldn't stop thinking of the guards and those spears...

       I finally met Apple Blossom on the other side of the bridge, stirring the surface of the Bell's Rush with a branch to make ripples. “Hey there!” I called out, and she jumped a little before turning to look at me. “Oh, it's you, Aidyn,” she said, and I was so startled by the coldness in her voice that I took a step back. I knew I had messed up then. Apple Blossom had never spoken to me like that. “I'll go if this is a bad time,” I told her meekly.

       “I just thought you were finished with me, that's all,” she said, focusing on the ripples in the water.

       “Oh dear...” I sat down beside her. “I'm not finished with you! I don't want to be finished with you, Apple Blossom. You're my best friend!” I put my arm around her, and when she didn't object I pulled her into a full hug. She returned it, wrapping her arms around mine and settling against me. I knew that I was forgiven, and I knew that meant that Apple Blossom was the best friend I or anybody else could ever have. If she could forgive me after what I had planned to do, then I could forgive Katie for her much smaller offense. We could all stand to be a little more like Apple Blossom.

       We spent the rest of the day playing out in the forest, even setting out on an impromptu hunt for the wish-granting “shekrumseh.” Apple Blossom described it as a little blue creature that looked like a fat, wingless fairy and wore a cape made from a maple leaf. Unfortunately, we didn't find it, so I didn't get to see it for myself. “If we find it, what will you wish for?” she had asked me expectantly as we were closing in on its alleged lair.

       “You aren't supposed to tell anyone what you wish for,” I told her, “or else it's not a wish anymore, and so it won't come true.”

       “Where did you hear that?” she asked with wide eyes. “I tell my wishes all the time!”

       “Maybe it's just a rule for humans,” I said. “You know, when you wished on the candles at your birthday, you did the same thing that humans do on their birthdays.”

       “I did?” If her eyes got any wider I was sure they would take up her whole face. “You did,” I said with a nod. “Wishing on birthday cake candles is a human tradition...and so is having a birthday party, and a birthday cake. It seems to me that Jadeites and humans celebrate their birthdays in the same way.”

       “Can I come to your birthday party, Aidyn?” she asked quickly. It was as if she already knew I was planning to have two parties—one for Jadeites and one for humans—for my December birthday. “My birthday is still a few months away,” I told her, “but of course you can. In fact, I already planned on inviting you.” She beamed. It still amazed me just how human she really was, in spite of total isolation from humanity. They were all human enough; they spoke a human language and took part in human traditions such as birthday parties, they display inherently human emotions and social desires, their monarchy system and the architecture of the castle both have their origins in human history and culture. Now that I really thought about it, I knew it all had to come from somewhere.

       There had been an alliance before. The striking similarities between us are the greatest evidence of that. Apple Blossom knew that—she had figured it out long before I did. Now she dreams of another one, in her own time. As her best (and only) human friend, I know I must do my part to make that dream a reality. 

The Knights of the Jewel: The Captive

        It was well into the night, and there was still no word from the boy. The last report that he had made came early that morning, right after he had stepped through to Rasta. But the still, steady glow in the stone of the beacon ring at Sonja's finger told her that he was alive and unharmed. That meant that he had been captured, or else he had simply neglected to follow orders—and if that was the case, he would be lucky to go to sleep without a whipping, much less with a full stomach. I'm going to have to go out looking for him, aren't I? Sonja thought in exasperation. For his sake, he had better be in prison! She knew that the boy would find some way or other to cause trouble. In spite of his incredible power, Sonja questioned the king's judgement in employing him.

       With a crash of thunder from her clapped hands, Sonja roused her two comrades. They shot out of their beds like rockets and blinked stupidly for a few moments, still asleep in their minds even though they had been woken. “The boy hasn't reported back to us,” Sonja told them before they had a real chance to come to their senses. “That means we go after him.”

       Morgana was the only one who stayed awake into the dark of night. After these long, exhausting, much-too-bright days, the subtle glow from the stars brought energy back to her, intermingling with and enhancing the glow of her aura. She wandered uncloaked and free through the starlit fields, flitting this way and that, sure that at any moment she could lift herself up off the ground. She had turned her thoughts to the comforting darkness, the quiet whispers of the night breezes...and the little magic boy, who was away in the city, relishing in the first good sleep of his life. Her pride was the only thing that stopped her from begging him to teach her the secrets behind his abilities. She would rather have swallowed a live fish than go begging a fourteen-year-old human to mentor her. Still, the power to engulf an entire army in inescapable flames was a compelling one. He was the only human that she had any sort of fascination with, even bordering on respect.

       As the darkness of the night grew, so did Morgana's aura. She grew lighter and airier as it twisted, morphed, and shaped itself into the form of glowing wings upon her back. Yes! With a bell-like she took a flying leap, and her wings pulled her up and away from the ground. The dark of the night, the light of the stars, and the summer winds converged, and she melted into them.

       The late night was the only time Morgana had for these private flights, with darkness and starlight as her only and much-preferred company. The landscape became a blur as she increased in speed, her wings beating against the air with joyous vigor. She sang, her voice as high and clear as a flute, and she was glad there was no one else else was around to spoil the happiness that she found in solitude—at least, until she spotted the dark figure making its way in and out of the low-lying shrubs, thinking it was using the shadows to conceal its presence. Oh, stars above, Morgana thought in dismay, already angry with anyone who dared to intrude upon her euphoria. Like a bat swooping down upon its prey, she cornered the figure, which was entirely concealed beneath a black hooded cloak. Immediately, it struck out, stinging Morgana's ear as she quickly turned her head. She grabbed both of its arms and forcefully twisted them behind its back. “Start talking,” she said dangerously. “No one with a brain would be padding around here this late at night, and I've got no patience for those without.”

       “I'm simply searching for something,” a dainty voice answered from under the hood, “something that I lost in these parts.”

       “Try the daylight, then,” Morgana said. “What sense does it make to go looking for anything in pitch darkness? And now you're going to come with me; this place is restricted and you've got no business here. Run, and I'll chase you until your legs give out. If you're thinking about fighting me, be aware that I have power that your little mind could not even comprehend. Surely, your best option here is to come quietly.”

       “And just who are you to treat me this way?” the woman answered shrilly. “I am minding my own business, I assume you were minding yours, and then you come out of nowhere and start yanking me around like a bag of garbage! Who do you think you are?!”

       “Take off that hood,” was Morgana's no-nonsense response.

       “I asked who you think you are, miss!” the woman snapped, and she received her answer in the form of a white-hot fireball, held right under her chin. “Take off the hood,” Morgana demanded. Trapped, the woman tossed her head back so that the black hood fell away.

       “That wasn't hard,” Morgana said, calling off the fireball, “was it?”

       “I'd still like to know who you are,” the woman snapped, “and why you think it's at all appropriate to treat me this way!”

       “I am Rasta's Knight of the Amethyst,” Morgana replied, “and now you are coming with me.”

       Eluani was apt to awaken in the middle of the night, and whenever she did it, she could never settle herself back to sleep right away. Her dreams were vivid—both the blessing and curse of a seer—and very often had some message to tell her that she would have to spend a decent amount of time decoding the symbols to unlock. Tonight, she was troubled by a dream of Magus, curled up on an old, thin bed in a dull room, which Eluani supposed had been his room at the mages' convent. He sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped around himself, shaking all over as if afflicted by some internal tremor. He did not react when she approached him, and when she lightly brushed his shoulder with her fingers, he looked at her as if he did not know her.

       “Magus?” she inquired. “Are you all right?”

       He did not answer her. His body shook wildly, and Eluani reached out both hands to steady him. She drew back quickly when she discovered that his skin was as hot as a burning stove, and then she screamed as his body was completely engulfed in flames. She woke up in a cold sweat, trembling all over. It's only a dream, Eluani, she wanted to tell herself, but she couldn't—she knew that her dreams were rarely only dreams. She paced around the palace's grand lobby, trying to make sense of it all. Those Aldinian soldiers on their way to the city had been met with a similar fate by Magus' hand, so surely it had something to do with that. But what did it have to do with it? Why had he appeared at the convent (she was sure now that it had been the convent), and why had she been the one to receive this vision at all? Had it been her own dream, or had she been given a window into his? Had she received a view into his terror and remorse?

       The palace doors opened, and Eluani abandoned her thoughts and steeled herself for a confrontation. But it was only Morgana, dragging along some hapless woman who scowled like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar. It was clear that she had crossed Morgana in some way, and when Eluani approached them both and gave the woman a look-over, she knew the reason behind it. “Why do you stare at me like that?” the woman asked shrilly, drawing back as much as she could with Morgana holding on to her so tightly. “It's uncomfortable! Stop that right now, or...”

       “So you think you're going to take back the boy,” Eluani said, and for a second the woman looked as though she had unexpectedly been struck. “Well, that just isn't going to happen. Whatever you promised him, he has been given three times that. There's no need for him to return to you. He...”

       “And what do you know about him?” The woman abandoned the facade of a scared and confused wanderer, and now spoke like a predator that had cornered its prey. Eluani would not divulge any details. “Everything,” was her simple reply.

       “Then you know that you've no right to keep him here,” the woman said. “You've no right to give him anything. He belongs to the kingdom of Aldine. He...”

       “Not anymore,” Morgana interrupted. “The boy threw aside his loyalty to Aldine just as easily as you humans chuck your garbage into the woods.”

       “Explain!” the woman demanded.

       “We don't have to,” Eluani told her. “Either way, he won't be going with you. And you will be...”

       Eluani shrieked as she felt her body heat up as if she had been suddenly tossed into an oven. She fell to her knees, twitching and writhing and beating at herself as if trying to extinguish some invisible flame. In a second, Morgana had the woman in a hold and herself enveloped in a protective veil. She held on with all of the force that her willowy body could manage as her captive struggled against her. If only she could work up a good binding spell...but before she could even attempt, her captive had broken free With a snap of the fingers, Morgana was blinded by a flash. Awakened by the commotion, the other knights arrived to find Eluani on her knees, breathing heavily against the pain from the heat as it subsided, and Morgana fighting against the whiteness in her vision. “She's escaped!” Eluani gasped. “She got out! Go after her!”   The knights did not ask who “she” was. They took off, and Eluani noted that Alicia held the troublesome shuriken blaster as her only weapon. Lovisa helped Eluani to her feet and examined her for injury. “I'm all right,” Eluani assured her. “It was only a spell. Get on out there with the others.” Lovisa obeyed, and Morgana trailed behind her as her vision returned. Her aura blazed with the intensity of a miniature sun.

       Eluani sat down, wrapped her arms around herself, and closed her eyes. She willed herself to think only of Morgana's captive, scowling sourly like a child caught in the act. All at once, the image changed; she was taller, stronger, and her face bore an expression of grim determination. Rings gleamed on the fingers of one hand, and in the other she held a wooden staff in the shape of a serpent. Her robes were the purple and gold of Aldine, with the coat of arms of a golden dragon embroidered at her breast. Her name was Sonja Farrel, and she was the chief of the arcane division of Aldine's army. Magus had been under her command...

       Not anymore! Eluani thought jovially. The boy's ties to her had been incinerated right along with those poor soldiers. Smiling, Eluani folded her arms and waited for Sonja's inevitable return.

       I did it! I did it! In any other circumstance, Alicia would have broken into song and dance. She watched as her comrades overtook the fallen mage, who was still trembling from the shock of the blast that had downed her. Alicia kissed the barrel of her weapon whose message she had finally managed to decipher: activate the runes and the blades will detonate. “I knew that I would figure you out!” she whispered to the weapon before kissing it again like a new friend that she was glad to meet.

       The mage was cornered like a deer by a pack of wolves. Sure, she had some impressive magic, but there were seven of them and they were closed in on her. Their mages were no slouches either—Morgana and Rodin pushed their way to the front, their eyes and the cold glow of their magic veils daring her to try anything more. Ion had her by both arms and held her so tightly that a struggle would do so much more harm than good. Alicia pointed the blaster, her finger poised upon the runes that were already beginning to glow green.

       “I give up,” the woman said stoically. “I surrender.”

       “Good choice,” said Troy, taking a rope from his utility belt and tying up her hands. Upon removing the rings from her fingers, he noticed that one of them bore a stone that gave off a series of quick blue flashes before he slipped it off. He passed it to Morgana, who turned it over in her hand before holding it above the woman's head as if to taunt her. “Tell me what this is,” she demanded.

       “A ring,” was the mage's stony response.

       “I know it's a ring, fool! Tell me what it is used for.” Morgana slowed her voice as if she spoke to a toddler.

       “It's a beacon ring,” the mage replied, “for the communication of distress signals.”

       “Crush it,” Morgana ordered Troy as she handed it back to him.

       “Yes, go ahead and crush it, big man,” taunted the mage. “It's too late for that to make any difference. By now I've sent out more than enough signals for my comrades to pick up on—they can be rather dull, but they know a signal when they see one.”

       “Thanks for the warning,” Morgana said dryly. “Troy, help me with this. The rest of you, scout the area and leave not a single blade of grass overlooked.” She hooked her arm through the mage's arm, and Troy clasped her bound hands with one hand and her shoulder with the other. “I'm locking her up in the cellar,” Morgana told him. “It's the closest damn thing to a dungeon that we have around here. I'll deal with her, and you keep watch at the door and send a report to the princess. I know humans like to sleep at these hours, but there's got to be somebody standing by.”

       “What about Eluani?” Troy asked. “What's she going to do?”

       “I forgot all about her,” Morgana admitted with a roll of her eyes. “Tell her to keep watch at the doors; tell her what's going on, of course, but be quick about it.”

       Troy's automaton horse stood against the bole of a willow tree, gleaming imposingly in the moonlight. He set their captive down upon its metal seat and climbed up behind her, folding his arms around her in a bind. She grunted slightly, but made no attempt to resist. “Go on in front,” Troy urged Morgana, but she shook her head. “I don't ride on these contraptions unless it's necessary,” she told him, “and it isn't necessary now. I'll lead ahead. If she gets the urge to jump, I'll be right there to catch her.”

       “I couldn't jump even if the urge did strike,” the woman saucily replied, “not with Mr. Big Man clamped down on me like this.”

       “I'm just letting you know that I've got both eyes on you,” Morgana told her. She went on ahead and motioned for Troy to urge his horse after her. “And now, tell me your name,” she ordered. “If you're planning on using a fake one, we do have a psychic waiting back home.”

       “Sonja Farrel,” the woman responded. “By my honor, the honor of a master magician of Aldine, it is my true name. And by that same honor, you won't get anything else out of me.”

       “That's fine,” Morgana said. “I think you'll discover soon enough that I can get anything I want out of anybody.”

       For a while, all three were silent. The peaceful songs of the summer insects and frogs seemed almost deceptive. Then, Sonja asked sharply, “What business do you have with the boy?”

       “What business do you have?” Morgana retorted.

       “He was assigned to me by the knight master, by the order of His Majesty King Harkinian,” Sonja explained. “He is mine to keep after, mine to lose, and mine to find. If you've got him locked up somewhere, then by the command of King Harkinian, you will release him or I will take him by force.”

       “So, he's the precious lost thing that you were skulking around in the night for,” Morgana said. “You know, it is disgusting that you speak of him as if he is a common object or a pack animal. He is a being with a life, his own mind, and a soul. He is not a thing to be passed around, lost, found, and taken.”

       “He is an unfortunate and unwanted youngster with no place in the world,” Sonja insisted.            “He belongs to no one. He has no purpose, no direction, not even a bed to sleep in at night. He exists at the level of a common rodent. And yet the king had his own reasons for seeking him out. If King Harkinian dictates that he is to belong to me from now on, then he is to belong to me from now on, as the king holds the ultimate jurisdiction over what is to be done about his common citizens, including the unwanted rats that scurry in and out of the back streets...”

        She could hardly get this last word out before Morgana whirled on her, dealing two stinging blows to both of her cheeks. She fell into Troy, who shifted as he tried to maintain his grip on her. “You bitch, if you talk about that boy like that again you'll be dead where you stand!” Morgana hollered. Her anger shocked her; she had never before been compelled to jump to the defense of a human. It was the way of the fairies to settle their own business and let the humans settle theirs. But the way this woman talked about a poor soul as if he was no better than vermin filled her with red-hot fury. She was all set to strike again, had Troy not called out, “Morgana, enough!”

       “She's got no right to speak of him that way!” asserted Morgana.

       “Punish her in the cellar,” Troy told her, “not out here in the open And you,” he added, struggling against the woman's attempt to break free and retaliate, “you're not going anywhere. You asked for that, so you just take it.”

       “The way you treat your prisoners in Rasta is disgusting!” Sonja snapped.

       “And I suppose that over in Aldine, you wrap them up in fluffy blankets and give them ice cream?” Troy replied sarcastically.

       Morgana was still seething, and her aura pulsed like an increasing flame. But she kept quiet, taking comfort in the knowledge that Magus had abandoned his loyalty to Aldine, and so would never return to the vile woman who thought of him as street filth. She made up her mind that from then on, he would be under her personal protection; anyone who came around looking for him would have to answer to her. The rest of the way was silent and uninterrupted. When they reached the palace gates, Morgana turned to Troy and said, “Go tell Eluani what's going on, then keep watch here at the gates. Anything that looks like it might be out of place very likely is. You can hand our honored guest over to me. I'll keep her entertained, all right.”

       “Roger that,” answered Troy, and when Morgana raised a brow at him, he said, “That means I got it.” He hauled the captive to his shoulder and slid down off of the horse's back. Morgana worked up a binding spell, which Sonja immediately objected to. “There's no reason for this! I have absolutely no interest in taking off, not if it means being jerked around by Big Guy all over again!”

       “Well, now you can't,” Morgana said coldly, “so it doesn't matter whether or not it interests you. Besides, it saves me the trouble of rummaging around for a pair of shackles.”

       Troy saluted Morgana—a distinctly human gesture that was completely lost on her—before entering the palace. Really, she wasn't so bad. Her strong will made her a competent soldier and natural born leader just as much as it made her a disagreeable curmudgeon.

       It was three hours past midnight, and the fields had fallen as silent as fields ought to be at such an hour. Admist the commotion of the previous hour, Rowley and Shattick had kept out of sight as they made their way to the capital city. Now that the sign marking the city entrance had finally come into view, they realized that they would have to turn back; something was wrong. Their beacon rings had gone completely dead, which could only that Sonja had somehow lost hers, or else...no, they wouldn't think about that. She had lost it, that was all, and as Sonja was not the type to lose things out of carelessness, they could only assume that it had been taken from her.

       What an inconvenience! It had taken them all of two hours to make their way to the city, and now who knew how long it would take to find Sonja? By the time they finally did enter the city, they would be much too tired to do anything about it. Rowley imagined a warm room in a welcoming inn; he heard that Rasta's “hotels,” as they were called, were above and beyond the little brick inns of Aldine. But he knew that Sonja would likely insist that they set up camp out here in the fields. Another night of stale bread for you, Rowley, he thought disdainfully, and pondered the difference between hotel food and inn food.

       For the second time, they passed by the site of a wildfire; it was far too dark to see any ash, though Shattick had discovered some when he ran his finger over the earth. Where grass and weeds had once grown was now a dull, lifeless circle, and the nearby shrubs and reeds had been singed. The area reeked of recent smoke and something else that neither of them could identify but that they both hoped they'd never have to smell again. They passed by quickly, holding their noses, feeling no need to linger longer than was necessary—they had already investigated enough on their first trek past here to conclude that this place held no significance to them.

       The vast fields branched off into wild country that could easily go on forever before there was any sign of Sonja or the boy. The six towers belonging to Rasta's Palace of the Jewel appeared in the distance, gleaming pearly white against the darkness. Stricken by a sudden epiphany, Shattick halted in his tracks, and Rowley grunted as he knocked into him. “What are you doing?” Rowley whispered fiercely. “Keep moving!”

       “There it is,” Shattick said, pointing to the glittering spires. “The Jewel's in there! That's right where they keep it! If we head that way, we'll be there in about forty-five maybe even thirty or twenty if we're super quick about it.”

       “Not without the commander,” said Rowley. “You know we can't make a grand move like that without her approval.” He spoke as if he was scolding a schoolboy, and Shattick shot him a disapproving glare. “We could spend all night and then some prowling around for her,” he said, “or we could realize that we're only a hop, skip, and jump away from what got us into this in the first place! Besides, won't she be so thrilled when she discovers that we've got such a gift for her?”

       “Their soldiers are guarding it,” Rowley reminded him, “and if they were anything for us to mess with, then we wouldn't have needed to send the boy over at all!”

       “And just look how far the boy has gotten!” said Shattick already heading in the direction of the palace. “Forget the boy; they probably killed him and dumped him off somewhere. Perhaps they tied him down and set him ablaze, and that's where all the ash and the smoke came from. Either way, we don't have him, and we don't have Sonja, but the Jewel is right there, and here we are, fully equipped! It's just too perfect to pass up, Rowley! Who knows if the opportunity will ever strike again? We can take on a few soldiers! We've taken on larger armies than that! Now come on, don't just stand there looking stupid!”

       In this mood, Shattick was irrepressible. Rowley knew that he would be left behind if he did not follow, and he was not too keen on a solitary battle with soldiers that had managed to obliterate an Aldinian golem. With a sigh, Rowley followed and bowed to the inevitable, hoping that his commander's wrath would be the worst thing he would have to face when this was over. 

Into the Land of the Elves: Betrayal

The Diary of Miss Aidyn Hall, displaced human

August 25

4:21 PM

Betrayal

       I have no idea what's going to happen to me.

       I can't tell if I've been pardoned or if I've landed knee-deep in hot water. Apple Blossom told her parents everything, and then...nothing happened. It hasn't been brought up at all. In fact, absolutely nothing has been brought up, because nobody but Apple Blossom has spoken to me at all. Last night's dinner featured a steady stream of monologues from Apple Blossom and no real dialogue—just stony, one-syllable replies, as if they were no longer comfortable with making real conversation around me. I excused myself to go eat in the garden, and nobody objected. I wish they had objected. Being called out, scolded, or even yelled at would've been preferable to cold silence and blank stares.

       I'd feel so much more at ease if the news had made them head-spinningly furious, if they had flown into a rage and forcibly evicted me from the palace. At least then I would know exactly where I stood with them. It's this silent, ambiguous nothing that could be anything that scares the heck out of me. If it wasn't for Apple Blossom, this would feel nothing at all like a vacation. But there is Apple Blossom, and so it isn't all bad. She came out to check on me as I ate my dinner alone at what had once been her birthday table. She squeezed my hand and told me, “They aren't mad at you, Aidyn.”

       “Then how do they feel about me right now?” I asked.

       “Well...I'm not sure,” she told me honestly. “But I know they're not mad.”

       I felt like a pariah, but she did all she could to remedy that. This morning, we met up with Wildflower, Crystalline, and Holly Berry, who were all just as accepting of me as they ever were. We waded in the bogs and made chains out of the cranberry greens. We played in the meadows. We sailed on the Bell's Rush. After lunch in the garden, I gave Wildflower another writing lesson and discovered that she had been practicing her letters. She had a much easier time copying the ten letters of her name this time around, so that we could move on to the other letters of the alphabet. The girl was truly born to write, and every second of her hard work made me swell up with pride. Is that what it's like to be a real teacher?

       Now I've been left alone again, in the Fairy Tale Room. On the floor beside me is the little figure of Chokana, with her arms permanently outstretched to her tree elven beau. I promised Apple Blossom that I would read some more of A Dragon's Pride after dinner (which I plan to take out in the garden again), but in return, I want her to tell me more about Chokana. The Jadeites owe their existence to this unthinkable human-elf alliance, and learning that must have fueled Apple Blossom's dream more than anything. If the tree elves could align with humans, then the Jadeites could too. For heaven's sake, she even asked if I might fall in love with a Jadeite! In all honesty, I wouldn't mind it if I ever found a Jadeite man that was willing. But that's even less likely than letting Katie and her friends in here without them causing a whole bunch of trouble.

       Okay, to be fair to Katie and her friends (after all, they're still somewhat my friends too), I suppose there is a possibility, however slight. But I can't take risks like that based upon slight possibilities. I've already messed up enough. I've likely pissed off every Jadeite in the Greenwood except for Apple Blossom and her friends, and I allow this and it goes wrong, then I'm basically done for. Katie has already proven herself to be untrustworthy and irresponsible, the exact opposite of the kind of human worthy of forming alliances. It isn't going to be done.

7:19 PM

       “What can you tell me about Chokana?” I asked Apple Blossom after putting away A Dragon's Pride. “Have you learned anything else about her?”

       “I've asked,” Apple Blossom said, nibbling at the butter cookies that had been served for dessert, “but Beryl doesn't like to talk about her. She used to dodge the subject entirely until I caught her at it, and then she just told me that we'll never get anything done if I keep moving us off of the subject of the lesson. She tells me that I ask too many questions unrelated to the subject and that I have to learn to stay on one topic.”

       “But how messed up is that?” I said critically. “This is a woman entirely responsible for your history—your entire existence as Jadeites—and yet you can't talk about her? This woman is the mother of the Jadeites, for heaven's sake!”

       “I know,” Apple Blossom said, “and I want to talk about her. But I don't think anybody wants to own up to being half-human.” She rolled her eyes. “They wouldn't be able to hate humans anymore if they did that.”

       “I'm sure there's much more to it than that,” I told her, “and I don't think the humans are entirely blameless. I believed it when you told me the tree elves hated them for being disruptive and mean. Humans can't even stop themselves from disrupting other humans, and they are definitely mean. They don't know how to stay out of the way.”

       “You're not mean,” Apple Blossom said as if reminding me, “and if you'd stayed out of the way, we wouldn't be friends now!”

       Up until then, I had never really thought of what I'd done as “getting in the way.” But in reality, that's all it was! I had gone poking around in the woods one day in hopes of finding decent writing material. Some strange things happened, and instead of leaving well enough alone, I'd decided to poke around even more. I wanted answers. I wanted the why and how. Humans are always poking around because they want the why and how. The why and how make up the driving force behind every human's meddling. I'd ended up meddling in a world that was not mine to meddle in because I wanted the why and how. It was such a human thing to do!

       I'm no better than the rest of them. I hate myself.

       “Hey, Apple Blossom?”

       “Yes, Aidyn?”

       “I have a bit of a...confession to make,” I told her. “You see, that wasn't the only time I'd gotten in the way, nor the worst. I...”

       “Well, of course it wasn't the worst!” she interrupted with a giggle.

       “I had this thing I was going to do,” I went on, “emphasis on going to—I didn't actually do it, and I'm not going to do it anymore! But...” I took a deep breath. “Apple Blossom, I am not the best human, all right?”

       She tilted her head quizzically. “What were you going to do?”

       “Well...” I looked up to the sky as if it would tell me the best way to word this. “There are some things in the diary that I haven't been reading, because I wasn't sure I wanted you to hear them. Now I want you to hear them, because they'll tell you why I'm not the best human.”

       “Right now?” Apple Blossom said.

       I thought about it, then I shook my head. “First thing tomorrow morning,” I told her, “at breakfast. If I'm not awake, then wake me.”

       So this is it. I'm going to tell her. I'm going to tell a ten-year-old girl that I had plans to sell out her story—the story of her people, her history, her existence—to an entire country's worth of humans who don't know a thing about her, her family, or even that she or anyone like her could exist at all, all so I could maintain my career. Her ideal human is anything but ideal. I hate myself. After tomorrow morning, I'm going to hate myself even more.

The Diary of Miss Aidyn Hall, would-be traitor

August 26

11:14 AM

      I did it. She knows it all, from every single entry that I had spent all this time skipping. She knows that I planned to use her, and she knows exactly how.

      She didn't have to wake me; I had been drifting in and out of sleep every hour since two AM, and by the usual Jadeite wake-up time of just before six, I had just stopped trying. Apple Blossom and I took our breakfast out in the garden, and as you might have already guessed, she provided one-hundred percent of the morning's conversation. When I started the reading, she interjected and commented in her usual way. When I reached the part in which I stole Chicory's jade stones, she stopped me to say, “It made me really mad that you did that.” It was as if she was scolding me, one of the many times in which I felt like the ten-year-old. “I thought you were so much better than that, Aidyn.”

       Wow. I had revealed just a few paragraphs ago that I had plans to sell her and her people out for the bestseller money, and she was more bothered by the petty thievery? “Apple Blossom, did you understand at all what I just read?” I asked her.

       “Yes,” Apple Blossom replied.

       “Then tell me how you feel about it,” I said.

       “Well...” she thoughtfully tilted her head to the sky. “You aren't actually going to tell the whole human world about me, are you?”

       “Not anymore,” I told her. “I promise that! But I was about to! I was about to do it for money! Thousands of humans could have known all about you, your family, your friends, your history, your secrets, even where you live!”

       “Thousands?” Apple Blossom's eyes widened.

       “Thousands,” I confirmed. “Not only that...” I was starting to cry, and the tears wouldn't go away no matter how much I blinked. Once again, I hated myself. What right did I have to be crying? “...I was going to tell them that I made it all up,” I went on, “that it was all a lie! I can't believe that I ever thought that would be a good thing to do! I was trying to protect you in the wrong way! The only real way to protect you would be...”

       Apple Blossom stopped me. “You were going to say that I was just a lie?” The look in her eyes could've killed me right there. “Yes, I was,” I admitted, and by then I had given up trying to hold back the tears. I was already on to tear number six or seven. “I was going to say that you weren't real, that you were made up in my head just like Uglorr the dragon, all so I could get the money and the praise from all of those thousands of humans. Apple Blossom, I am not a good person!”

       She didn't say anything.

       “I am just as human as the rest of them,” I went on. “I'm not anything special! I'm not anything ideal! I...” I decided to shut up before it sounded too much like I was feeling sorry for myself when I had no right to. “I'm just...going to walk away now,” I said finally. “I'm sorry, Apple Blossom. I have never been so sorry for anything in all twenty-six years of my life!”

           I showed myself out of the garden, and she didn't object. 

The Knights of the Jewel: Magus' Story

       There was no hope of escape or release for the burning soldiers. They could only writhe, and scream, and cry out for a quick death that was not awarded. The sight of it nauseated Ion and filled his body with cold terror, but he couldn't bring himself to look away. He stood as if frozen, as if something outside of his own will commanded him to watch as the soldiers perished in the flames. So he watched, as their skin withered like winter leaves and their flesh melted away from the bones...

       There was no one around but Magus, who was also petrified. He was curled up on the ground, his face buried in his hands and his knees drawn to his chest, as if he himself had perished silently along with his victims. But when Ion finally managed to tear himself away from the horrifying sight, he knelt down beside the boy and felt for a pulse. He was alive. “Get up,” Ion ordered, nudging him with his fist.

       Magus uncovered his face and looked into Ion's blue-steel eyes. His face was blotchy red and stained with tears, but Ion could not muster sympathy. “Did you see what occurred out there?” he asked urgently, tightly gripping the boy's shoulder. “Tell me what happened right this instant, and don't you dare lie to me!”

       “It was...me,” Magus told him in a cracking voice that gave way to more tears. He covered his face again and his whole body trembled and heaved. Ion took a step back. He knew it couldn't have been a lie—this boy, by some inexplicable force, had truly managed to set an entire squad of soldiers aflame, and so he could be capable of anything at all. Ion had to take a few moments to think over what was to be done next. Finally, he approached the boy cautiously and, when he did not react, he grabbed him under both armpits and lifted him to his feet. He found himself staring down into a terrified pair of eyes.

       “How did you do it?” he asked.

       “I...I had to do it, sir!” Magus insisted through his blubbering. “They...they were...going for the city...the princess...”

       “That isn't what I asked,” Ion said sternly. “I asked how you did it.”

       “I....can do things like that...” Magus admitted. “I...it's my magic...it's...” The sound of approaching horses startled him into silence, and his body tensed. “Behind me,” ordered Ion, removing his sword from his sheath. Both were relieved to see that it was only Ion's seven comrades, with Lovisa at their head. Without really thinking, Magus ran to her, and she flung herself from her horse and took him into her arms. “Oh, Magus!” He felt as though he melted into the warmth of her arms. “Are you all right?” she asked, her eyes full of concern. He simply nodded, and she held him close.

       “Lovisa, be careful!” Ion said urgently. “All of us must be careful! He has proven to be dangerous—I've observed what he is capable of!” He looked down at his feet and winced as the image of the soldiers' gruesome end appeared in his mind. It was a memory that he knew would never leave him. “An entire army, engulfed in flames that had no discernible origin! Each and every one of them perished in a fire that seemed to have come from the sky. I watched them perish! I heard their cries as the flames consumed them—the most haunting sound I have ever heard in all of my days! It was a horrible way to perish, to be sure, and the boy himself confessed that it was all his doings!"

       “I...I had to do it!” Magus said abruptly. “If I hadn't, then so many others would have perished! They were Aldine's soldiers! They were heading for the city! I had to do something!” He raised his voice. “I had to protect the city! I had to protect the princess!” He gripped Lovisa's arms, his eyes overflowing with tears again. “Please understand me, Lovisa! I had to do it!”

       “You killed your own soldiers?” was Morgana's hasty response, but she was ignored. The others were stunned to silence. Lovisa held Magus as he looked into her eyes and silently pleaded for her, of all people, to understand. But she just didn't have the words to say. His and Ion's stories seemed like the retelling of a shared nightmare, rather than something that had actually taken place. Finally, Ion spoke: “Come with me. I'll lead you to the fallen.”

       “I'll stay with Magus,” Lovisa said, but Ion shook his head. “He is coming with us, and so are you,” he told her, and though Lovisa's stomach churned at the thought of charred corpses, she chose not to argue. She set Magus on her horse and climbed up behind him. Magus turned to look at her, his eyes pleading. “You do understand me, don't you?” he asked.

       “I'd like to, dear,” Lovisa assured him, “but right now I'm just not sure what I can understand.” When his face fell, she rubbed his head and said, “But don't worry. Either way, I won't let anything happen to you.” He relaxed, settling himself comfortably against her as she urged the horse on.

       What had once been an army of soldiers and their horses was now a mass of blackened corpses, their faces frozen in the agony they had died in. Piles of ash that had once been flesh were morbidly decorated with what remained of the regalia of Aldine. Sanjaia gagged and turned away, clamping his hand over his mouth and breathing heavily to fight off the nausea. Rodin closed his eyes. Lovisa wanted to follow suit, but she couldn't; it was as if an external force willed her eyes to stay open and fixed upon the gruesome scene. The sheltered young lady from an Eridell herbalists' commune had never seen anything near as awful as this, and as much as she wanted to tell herself it wasn't real, she knew better.

       “How did you do it?” Morgana asked Magus, simultaneously fascinated and horrified by a human child with the power to cause such destruction.

       “I...I have magic inside of me,” Magus said, trying hard to avert his eyes from the carnage. “I could always do things like this...”

       “You're a human,” Morgana said almost accusingly. “Where did you get that kind of magic?”

       “I don't know!” Magus insisted. “I don't think I got it from anywhere! I've had it for my whole life!”

       “You were named for it,” Rodin observed. “Or...were you? Is Magus your given name?”

       “It's the only name I ever had,” Magus said.

       “Your mother named you that?” Rodin asked.

Magus shook his head. “They gave it to me at the convent. I don't know what my mother named me. I never knew her.”

       “You grew up in a convent?” Eluani asked. “What sort of convent was it?”

       “I didn't grow up there,” Magus said hastily. He was getting annoyed with the questions. He just wanted Lovisa to take him in her arms again, and take him back to the palace with the good food and the warm bed. He just wanted to forget this entire afternoon and at least pretend to be a normal boy that someone actually cared for. But he knew he'd lost the chance to do that, and he had a dreadful feeling that he would never see the palace again. He cursed himself for running away. “I just lived at the place when I was really little,” Magus went on, “and then they sent me away. I grew up on the streets, all right?”

       “Look,” Troy said, “we don't really need to hear the kid's entire life story right now. We've got a much more pressing issue to deal with.” He looked over the army of charred corpses as if he needed to commit them to memory, or else assure himself that they were in fact real. Then he reached for his communicator, and this time Magus refused to run away.

       Princess Cordelia of Rasta was not Magus' idea of a princess. Of course, he had never seen a princess outside of books and pictures, as he had not been alive during the princess days of Aldine's Queen Alora. What Magus knew of princesses, he knew from storybooks and fanciful tales that he had been told in his childhood. They had not taught him to expect a princess in chainmail, with a sword at her side and a strong, stocky black horse built like a tree. The princesses he knew of wore trailing gowns and rode elegant white steeds.

Magus stayed close to Lovisa, holding on to her hand tightly as he watched the princess and her party examine the remains of the fallen Aldinian soldiers. She was at least as beautiful as the princesses he knew of, and right now her lovely face bore an expression of horror and disgust. It unsettled Magus to see her dainty hand, wrapped up in an armored glove, prod at and turn over the bones of the dead. This was not an affair for a princess; a princess ought to be locked away in her chamber, safe from such sights. Oh, please, Magus pleaded internally, don't let her find out I'm responsible! Not yet, not now! But it was not to be; that knight in red was already carrying on, telling her everything in his dramatic, theatrical way. “One moment they were making their way across the field, and in the next moment they were ablaze! Their death was brutal...they screamed and writhed in agony. I watched their skin wither and melt away from their bones...I know that those cries and those sights shall forever haunt my dreams.” He winced at the memory and put his hand to his breast. “I have met with many horrors in my days, and I have long learned to steel myself in the face of them. But this was something that I was wholly unprepared for. There seemed no explanation, no real reason for these soldiers to die as brutally as they had. But then there was the boy...”

       Now both the knight and the princess fixed their eyes upon Magus, who stared back defiantly in spite of himself. He wanted to hide, but he wouldn't. His hand tightened around Lovisa's and his body became hard as stone as the princess approached him. “Hello there,” she said, with a voice much friendlier than Magus could have expected. “So, you're the knights' young house guest from across the border, am I right?”

       Magus did not respond. “I'm awfully sorry that we had to meet on such terms,” the princess went on. “I had a much warmer welcome planned for you at the city entrance. Have the knights been treating you very well, dear?”

       Still, Magus refused to respond. He resorted to a tactic he had learned on the streets of Aldine, in which he pretended to be a statue and therefore could not speak, move, or even display any outward emotion. It was something he employed when he was questioned or interrogated. Lovisa picked up on it immediately and realized that she would have to do the talking. “I'd like to think that we are,” she told the princess. “We cleaned him up, we gave him some food, he's had a nice rest...”

       “And this was all by the Jewel's instruction?” asked the princess.

       “Well, yes,” Lovisa answered. “But do you know what? I think I would have done it regardless. Cordelia, young boys do not belong out in fields, with dirty faces and holey clothes, no matter what the situation is! And whatever the situation is, you know Magus has no willing part in it! I mean, he's a street waif! Somebody put him up to it!”

       If Magus had not been trying so hard to be a statue, he would have hugged her. She was going to defend him, even after everything that had happened. She was going to stand up for him, no matter how much trouble he caused. She understood. She loves me, he thought, surprised that he was able to identify such feelings. If anyone had ever loved him before, he didn't remember it. Love, no matter what type, was always something that existed outside of his reach. And yet he knew, without a doubt in his mind, that Lovisa loved him. He smiled in spite of himself, and the princess caught on immediately and returned it. “I understand,” she said, laying a hand on Magus' shoulder. “So, your name is Magus?”

       “Yes,” Magus answered monotonously.

       “And you're from Aldine,” Cordelia said. “Where in Aldine are you from?”

       “The capital,” Magus replied.

       “Who took care of you there?” Cordelia asked.

       “Nobody,” Magus answered.

       For a few moments Cordelia was silent, her thoughtful eyes looking over Magus' head. Finally, she said, “It would probably be best for us to discuss this at the Palace of the Jewel. It was...”

       “Yes!” Magus cried out, and Lovisa couldn't stop herself from laughing. But he didn't mind it. He rather liked her laughter.

       “Yes,” the princess went on, nodding as if in agreement with him. “It was quite foolish to leave the palace unguarded for so long anyhow. We'll go back there and discuss this over a meal.” She turned to her party of armored soldiers, who talked over what to do about the fallen soldiers. “Patrol the area,” she said firmly.

       “Of course, m'lady,” one of the men answered, placing a hand to his breast in a gesture of loyalty.

       Tears came to Magus' eyes, and he allowed them to fall. Lovisa brushed his wind-tousled hair back from his face and pulled him into a hug, which he returned.

       The roast chicken, peas, and cheese that were served at dinner were met with largely the same reception as the earlier milk and sweetbreads. Magus was allowed to take as much as he liked, his less-than-perfect table manners were excused, and the princess allowed him a few moments before he answered her questions. He was much more receptive to questions now, and Cordelia and the knights had learned much more about him than they thought he'd be willing to provide: his name was Magus, and it had been given to him by the head of the mages' convent he had been sent to somewhere between the ages of one and three. His mother had died long before he was old enough to remember her, and no one knew anything about his father. He lived in an orphanage until they had managed to send him off to the convent, which was a convent where practitioners of all varieties of the magic arts were sent to practice their craft. “They sent me there because of my powers,” Magus had explained. “The orphanage was afraid of me because of my magic. They thought I was too dangerous to keep around.”

       Up until Magus was six, the master magi at the convent worked hard at teaching him the control and management of his magic. Life at the convent was strict and regimented, and even moreso for Magus; his days consisted of bland meals, long days of hard work and education, and nights asleep in his own room far away from the mages' dormitories. He was the only child there, and the mages were unconcerned with him. His instructors tended to his lessons—praising modestly, punishing harshly—and left him alone once they concluded for the day. He had not a single friend in the world, and not a single person truly cared if he was happy or if he was well. “I don't think they wanted me there any more than the orphanage did,” Magus said. “They all treated me like I was a time bomb about to go off at any moment. They could contain me, but that was all that they could do, or wanted to do. I spent those years thinking that I was a monster, and that's why nobody ever played with me, or talked to me outside of lessons, or wanted my company at all. It was why the mages hurried away whenever they saw me, and why I wasn't allowed to stay in the dormitories and make friends with them. I would look at myself in the mirror and wonder why a monster like me looked like any other kid. Those days were just awful.”

       By the time Magus was nearly seven years old, he had learned that he had something inside of him that was beautiful and dangerous in equal parts. His instructors had established that he was born with a gift and that no one else in the world had power such as his, not even the most powerful of the master magi at the convent. It was a wonderful gift that he could make use of only when the time was right, and they made sure that he knew when the time was right. But when it was not, it was to be safely locked away inside him, where it could not cause any harm to others. “I thought that if I showed them I could do this,” Magus said, “then they wouldn't be so hard on me anymore. They might praise me more, they might talk to me more...they might even like me. I wanted to impress them. All I wanted was someone to like me.”

       Magus maintained control of his powers, retaining an impressive amount of caution and discipline for a child his age. He used his powers only in the ways he had been instructed to, and in doing so, he earned the praise that he so craved. In his daily activities, he was well-behaved and out of the way, absorbing himself in the books that he had taught himself to read. It reached the mages studying at the convent that the young boy the masters presided over had an incredible ability to handle the powerful elemental magic he had inexplicably acquired, and they became fascinated with him. The master magi themselves were impressed with Magus' ability to handle such power, and an overheard conversation let on that they were very proud of him. When he was called down to the head magus' chamber after a long day of being left entirely alone, Magus anticipated the reward of love and approval that he had worked so hard for; he would be hugged and kissed like the children in the books he read, and the magi that had been his instructors would become his family. But to his horror, the head magician told him that they were sending him away. “He told me that they had no more to teach me,” Magus said, “and that I showed them that I had learned well. He said that I'd grown in leaps and bounds, and there was nothing more I needed to know. Then he said...” Magus looked at the table then, and Lovisa lightly nudged him. “What did he say?” she gently prompted.

       “He said that he had spoken with the children's home two villages down,” Magus went on, “and that there was room for me there. I was sent there the next morning.”

       Magus' send-off had been an uneventful one. His instructors, whom he had gotten to know for the past three years, went about their daily business as if he was only an afterthought that they had pushed to the back of their minds. The convent mages tended to their studies and paid him no mind. He sat waiting in the lobby, carrying a bag of his clothes and books, overcome by the rage and tears that come with betrayal. Nobody liked him or wanted him, and he hated them all. He hated everybody. The caretaker of the children's home seemed kind enough, squeezing his cheeks and calling him “sweetheart,” but he hated her because he didn't want to go with her. He glowered at her with all of the ferocious rage that a small boy could manage, and as she took him by the hand and led him away, he shot the head magus this same hateful look. The head magus simply waved at him and turned to leave, putting the boy out of mind forever.

       It was evident that the home had been informed of Magus' powers; the other children regarded him with odd glances, as if they did not recognize him as entirely human, and he was kept in isolation just as he had been at the convent. “You are a very special young man,” his caretaker had informed him with kindness that seemed false, “and you have special abilities—things you can do that other children can't. They can be very dangerous, and we must make sure that the other children don't get hurt. You wouldn't want to hurt anybody, would you, Magus?”

       All Magus took away from this patronizing lecture was that he was going to be alone again, and he was fine with that. He had given up on his dreams of having friends or being loved. The caretakers that came by to bring him food and pat his head did so out of obligation, not love. The other children wanted nothing to do with him, and he wanted nothing to do with them. He hated them even more when they were allowed to go away with some kind soul looking for a child to complete their family. Every so often, a smiling child would leave the home, holding the hands of some happy couple or kindly person leading them on their way to a new life. Every so often, a child destined for a new home bid their happy farewells to the friends they had made, who cheered them on and wished them good luck. Nobody came for Magus, and nobody ever said goodbye to him. He was an afterthought in the back of the world's mind, and for that, he hated the world.

       “I had my books, I had my magic, and they were all I had,” Magus explained. “So I wondered why I even had to stay there. That so-called 'home' had nothing for me. Being there made me feel lonely and overlooked...and trapped, very trapped. I saw the friendships and associations the others had and I knew that I would never have anything like that. It hurt me. Everything about the place hurt me and made me angry, and I made up my mind that I didn't have to be trapped there. I ran away.”

       Magus left behind the toys and small possessions that the caretakers had given him, which had belonged to other children that decided they didn't want them anymore. “I didn't want them either,” Magus said, “but it broke my heart when I found out that I couldn't take all of my books. They were just too heavy on my back, even after I'd thrown aside my clothes to make room for them. I cared much more about my books than my clothes.” In the end, he had only been able to keep three very favorite books, along with two sets of clothes in addition to those on his back. While the other children played in the yard, he sat in the corner with a book in his hands, as he did every day. He stayed close by the fence, and when he was certain that nobody was watching, he slipped out of the fence and took off down the street until his legs wouldn't carry him anymore. He never went back.

       “Didn't anybody come looking for you?” Alicia asked.

       “If they did, I never knew it,” Magus told her, “but I don't think they did. They didn't really care about me.”

       “So, you've been out on the streets ever since then?” Lovisa asked, appalled. “Since you were seven or eight?” All at once, she had been struck hard with sympathetic pain for the poor young man who never had a friend in the world. She wanted to take him in her arms again, to kiss his hair and tell him that he was going to be all right. She wanted to tuck him in under the blankets and tell him that she was going to take care of him from now on. He would be liked, and even loved. To her question, Magus nodded. “My magic kept me alive,” he said, “and my books kept me company. They were all I had and all I needed. I never had a home, and after a while I didn't even want one.”

       The entire time that Magus had been telling his story, Cordelia had retained a polite, attentive silence. Now, she held her hand out to him and said, “Come here, Magus.” Magus wouldn't budge without some coaxing from Lovisa, but then he cautiously extended his shaking hand to take hers. “Magus, you will have a home now,” Cordelia told him. “From now on, you will have everything: good meals, good clothes, a place to live, all of the books you want, and somebody who will truly care for you. I will do whatever it takes to ensure that you have a home...a real home, Magus. And if nobody else will take you in, then I will do it myself.”

       “Couldn't he stay here?” asked Lovisa. “I can take care of him! You'd like to stay here, wouldn't you, Magus?”

       “May I?” Magus blurted out before Cordelia could answer. “Oh, may I, please? I promise I won't...” But his heart fell when the look in her eyes told him it was not to be. “It isn't safe for you here, Magus,” she said gravely. “This place is threatened; there is always a possibility of an enemy strike. I'll take you into the city, where I can find a much safer place for you to live. Oh dear, don't look so dismal! I will personally ensure that you are well cared for, and never overlooked. And Lovisa can still visit with you. You won't be losing her!”

       Magus relaxed, though he was still dubious. He turned to Lovisa, and she softly laid her hand on top of his head. “I will visit you every day,” she told him. “That's a promise! And now, Cordelia, do you think that you could send for some ice cream?”

       “I think that could be arranged,” Cordelia said with a light chuckle. “But there's one thing that you haven't told me, Magus, and I think that it's crucial for me to know.”

       “What's that?” Magus asked, his nerves returning.

        Cordelia folded her hands and propped her chin upon them, in a way that reminded Magus of his stern instructors back at the convent. “How and why did you cross the border?”