Archive of Our Own ^beta

All standard disclaimers apply. Pet Fly Productions and UPN own the characters and the series. No copyright infringement intended. No money was made in writing or sharing this story – unless someone wants to pay me and then I'll talk to my lawyers about sharing

Again, I would like to thank Bast for all her kindness for publishing the original zine. I would also like to thank everyone who has written me over the years to tell me how much they enjoyed this series. Your kindness has meant the world to me.

This story is the zine version of "Homecoming" which basically means I added about twelve or so pages to the end. The sequence of stories should go as follows: (1) One Kind Deed; (2) Chance Encounters; (3) Reversals; (4) Beloved; and (5) Homecoming. This story probably won't make any sense unless you go back and read the others. While it is a self-contained story in *this* universe, that doesn't help a lot if you haven't read any of the other stories.

This story is a sequel to: Beloved - OKD

James Ellison, ranger and unofficial troubleshooter for King Simon, leaned back against a small birch and studied the members of his team while they rested. Joel Taggart, a large dark warrior, was engaged in a quiet but animated conversation with Rafael, the team's half-elven healer.

Joel had fought beside James for nearly two decades. The trust the ranger had in the older fighter knew no bounds. His quiet sense of humor, his dedication to duty, and his kindness made him one of the best people James knew. Taggart would follow James into the bowels of hell if the occasion called for it and would never complain or question the reason why.

Rafael had only been with James' team for ten years. The ranger still remembered the shy gangly youth the healer had been -- so eager to please. Despite years of attempting to teach the young man how to defend himself, he was still woefully inept. Simon occasionally questioned James about the soundness of including such a liability on dangerous missions; but James never wavered. While Rafe might not do much damage in battle, his healing abilities made him a valuable asset to his team. The halfling's innocence and bright outlook on life, despite some of the things he had witnessed during his travels with Ellison, often healed the ranger's ravaged soul.

James' gaze finally lit upon the third and newest member of his team, an elven thief named B'lair Woodfoxen, and frowned slightly. In the three forays they had undertaken since meeting, B'lair had proven himself to be a resourceful ally. While the young elf had never been overly chatty, he could usually be counted on for a humorous quip or insightful anecdote. At the moment, however, he was standing off to the side of the clearing by himself, his pale face turned northward. The thief's unnatural stillness bothered him.

"He seems to withdraw more into himself with each step we take toward Rainier," Rafe said quietly from James' side.

"I've noticed," the ranger responded, never taking his eyes off the elf.

"Any idea why?" Joel asked in concern, his protective nature coming to the fore.

"Last night..." James hesitated, wondering how much he should reveal to his friends about making love to the quiet thief.

Joel placed a non-judgmental hand on his arm, and nodded encouragingly.

"He told me I couldn't love him. When I questioned him as to why, he said, 'Like everyone else, you'll die, and I won't be able to stop it.'" James watched pain flash across the young healer's face and had to put a restraining hand on his shoulder to keep him from going immediately to the elf. "No. Leave him be."

"But why is he withdrawing into himself now?" Rafe questioned as he acknowledged the ranger's hand with a nod. "Fire and stars, James!" He gasped, eyes wide in sudden realization.

"Exactly," the ranger nodded.

"Do you two mind letting me in on the secret handshake?" Joel grumbled as he looked back and forth between his two closest friends.

"B'lair is from Rainier," Rafe said with certainty.

"How do you figure that?" the older warrior protested. "The innkeeper indicated the village had been deserted for decades."

"Joel, full-blooded elves age much slower than humans. While B'lair looks to be about twenty-five years old, he may, in reality, be closer to fifty or seventy, which is still very young by elven standards."

Taggart shot a glance at the young man in question, who seemed totally oblivious to their conversation. "But if he knows what happened to the village, why isn't he saying anything."

"The innkeeper also talked about a massacre," James said quietly, his eyes taking in the thin sheen of perspiration on the thief's brow and the slight trembling of his limbs. "I think chances are good that B'lair was there when it happened."

Joel gasped. "How did he survive?"

"I don't know," the ranger admitted.

"Skylanthalus," Rafe whispered, wrapping his arms around his chest for comfort as he spoke the name. "I -- I didn't put it together before. After we were attacked, he checked me for wounds and whispered the name Skylanthalus. He was horrified when he realized his slip, but I was so worried about Joel at the time, I didn't think anything of it."

"So who is this Skylanthalus, and where is he now?" Joel asked, frowning slightly.

"He's dead," James answered.

"Are you sure?" Taggart pressed, but stopped when he noticed the ranger's clenched jaw and nodding head. "Okay, that answers where, but do we have any idea who he was?"

"His heart," James whispered, closing his eyes briefly against the pain.

"Will he endanger our mission?" Joel asked, ever practical.

//"I will work with your team for the gold. I will keep to myself. I will not answer any questions about who I am. However, neither will I lie to you. But know this, when the time comes, I will leave. No explanations. No good-byes. And if our goals cross, I will not jeopardize mine. Do you understand?"

"Yes, and you understand that no one ever double-crosses me?"

"I won't betray you or your team. But I have spirits to calm. If the situation comes down to following the group or fulfilling my destiny, I will choose the latter. Never doubt it. Consequences be hanged." //

"I don't know," the ranger said quietly as he rubbed a hand over his tired face. "However, I do know that the best place for him at the moment is under foot, where we can keep an eye on him."

B'lair Woodfoxen swallowed hard as he surveyed the chain and log bridge which spanned the chasm before them. It was not the same bridge as when he lived in the woods beyond. No doubt, the trolls had put this sturdier version up after their domination of the land was complete. It was no longer a bridge which swayed in the wind, but a large contraption which looked like two fully armed and armored trolls could stride side-by-side across the entire length.

The thief dug his fingernails into his palms, trying to prevent the cry which welled up from his soul. Could he cross the bridge? Could he face what lay on the other side?

"B'lair?" Rafe asked quietly from beside him, touching his shoulder.

"Yes?"

"We need to cross," the healer said in an incredibly gentle voice.

For a moment, B'lair stared at the halfling, wondering if the young man understood that crossing the bridge could rend his sanity. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Okay. I will follow you."

Joel had already crossed the expanse and disappeared from sight, scouting the immediate area on the other side. Rafe hesitated for a moment, then nodded and quickly crossed the bridge. Locking his gaze onto the healer, who had turned to face him once he had reached the other side, B'lair took his first tentative step onto the bridge. Shakily, he reached out for the support chains; however, with each step he took his feet became heavier and heavier until he was unable to move forward any further. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to look over the side of the bridge and into the chasm below. 'What had Sky been thinking?' he shuddered as he saw the river wending far beneath him.

Rafe looked as if he were about to start back, but paused, relaxing a little. B'lair could feel the ranger's solid presence behind him and allowed himself a moment to lean back against the older man for support. A warm breath caressed his ear, comforting him. "This is not about you, beloved," the tenor voice said in understanding. "It's about the need to move forward."

B'lair blinked at the double meaning of the words being spoken to him, then shaking himself, straightened, and put one foot in front of the other until he was standing by the healer's side. He turned and looked gratefully back at the ranger. James simply laid one palm against his cheek and smiled, before moving in the direction opposite from Taggart.

James paused, and raised one hand to indicate that those behind him should stop as he took a moment to survey the village which lay before him. Small stone huts overgrown with clinging vines filled his view as he took a few tentative steps forward. He reached out with his hearing, expecting to find the laughter of children and the bustling sounds of a thriving village, but silence was his only answer. With a nod of his head, he indicated the others should follow.

"Where is everyone?" Joel asked in a whisper, afraid his words would echo in the eerie stillness, taking in the tiny, perfectly tended gardens beside most of the cottage doors.

"The innkeeper said this was a ghost town," Rafe whispered while they moved toward the center of the village.

"But it's immaculate," Joel countered as they entered a small clearing, decorated with bright banners and streamers. "It looks like they were having a party."

James whirled about when he heard the thief take large gasping breaths of air as if suffocating.

"M-mmmm-may-b-be w-w-we s-ssssshhh-ould ex-p-ppp-plore the v-vvvvvvillage m-mmm-ore."

The ranger started forward, but for each step he took, the pale thief took a step back, looking as if he would bolt. "Yes, that's not a bad idea. Why don't we each take a direction and see what we can find," James agreed in a soft, non-threatening voice. He watched as the elf nodded, turned and fled.

"James?" Rafael gasped, concern written all over his handsome face.

"Leave him for now, Rafe," the ranger whispered raggedly. "I think -- I think our suspicions have just been confirmed. Let's split up. I want to know what happened here."

The healer and older warrior both nodded as they turned in opposite directions to explore the village. A cold claw of fear gripped James' stomach as he remembered the look on his lover's face. Something had happened here. Something which had destroyed the soul of the man he loved. He cursed their timing. Their newly formed bond was incredibly fragile. Would it be strong enough to help the young elf through his waking nightmare come true? James clenched his teeth in frustration. He had tasted the unexpected innocence of the young man, had felt the first tentacles of hope reach out toward him the night before, and by the Unknown One's name, he swore he would raze whole villages himself before he let the young man's soul slip through his fingers.

B'lair raced blindly back through the village as the memories of his Ascension washed over him again and again, like the unmerciful ocean pounding the silent beach. He couldn't face this. How had he ever thought he could do it alone? He stumbled and fell at the edge of the village, staying on his hands and knees for several minutes as he tried to get his breathing under control.

The soft crunching of leaves from the forest made him raise his head. He glanced up into the pale blue eyes of a large wolf with black ears and white paws. The animal cocked his head and sniffed at the intruder. 'No,' B'lair thought in disbelief. There was no possibility it could be the same animal. While wolves lived long lives...

The timber wolf took a tentative step forward, and sniffed again. B'lair braced himself for an attack, but it never came. Instead the creature rolled on its back and whined plaintively, inviting him to play. When B'lair hesitated, it opened its mouth and made quiet, almost talking noises.

"It can't be you, JaJaNa," the elf whispered in disbelief, reaching forward and tentatively scratching the furry underbelly of the animal. The wolf licked his arm and wiggled in pleasure. "How can you remember me?" The wolf scrambled to its feet and then moved closer to the thief, pressing its wet nose into his cheek. With a gasp of pleasure, B'lair threw his arms around the wolf's neck and hugged it tight, choking back a sob as a small contented whine reverberated against his ear.

After several moments, the wolf moved back and the elf released his hold. Taking several steps toward the village, the wolf looked back over its shoulder then back at the village. The message was clear. Follow me.

B'lair pushed himself off the ground and stiffly followed the four-legged animal, who lead him to a petite cottage on the edge of the village.

"Malinalda's home," he whispered to himself, stopping at the open doorway. Using his head to push, the wolf butted the young man into the cottage.

//"I have a loose stone in my hearth. Behind it I keep items which aid me in my magics -- wards and such."

"My future is set and I doubt I can escape it, but remember the loose stone on the right, third stone up from the hearth. It is my legacy to you."//

"My legacy," B'lair whispered.

The wolf growled impatiently, pushing him toward the stone fireplace. The elf dropped to his knees in front of the hearth. The wolf nudged his shoulder with his nose. "I..." but stopped when the animal growled. "You're very bossy." B'lair sighed in compliance, then smiled as the wolf seemed to grin at him, tongue lolling, head pushing against him again.

Reaching forward, he let his fingers glide up over the stones. One. Two. Three. He hesitated a moment then pressed against the stone. It wiggled slightly. Moving closer, he used his fingernails to grasp the edges and pull back. With a soft pop, the rock came off, revealing a small dark hole. Taking a deep breath, he reached in and felt a small leather pouch. He pulled it out, unknotted the strings, and spilled the contents into his hand.

He blinked in amazement as he fingered the three amulets, each consisting of a precious stone attached to a leather string. One was an opal with a small raccoon etched into its surface. The second was onyx with a bear etched into its flat front. The third was a cat's eye with a jaguar sketched into it. B'lair shook himself as an unbidden memory came floating up from his subconscious, ethereal and without form, taunting him, making him feel as if he should realize the significance of the etchings.

The analytical part of his mind understood that any one of the stones would be worth a king's ransom, but yet he knew there was a deeper significance to the precious stones. Sighing, he carefully put them back into the pouch and attached the leather bag to his belt. Standing and feeling oddly refreshed; he walked out of the small cottage.

The air around him stirred. Small eddies blew leaves skyward. Clouds rolled overhead as the winds blew harder, carrying laughing, joyful voices. "All hail, the newly ascended one."

James' head snapped up as the air around him suddenly began to move, prickling his skin, carrying the ground cover upward. Clouds rolled in as the wind blew stronger. He had found himself in many a sudden storm before, but this one had a different feel - almost as if it had a magical taste to it. He heard faint joyous laughter. "All hail, the newly ascended one."

Without thought, he ran back to the clearing. When he arrived, the wind was swirling the leaves and the gaily colored streamers and banners around the open area. His eyes searched frantically for his teammates and sighed in relief as Joel came skidding into the small meadow. Rafael lurched into the clearing from the opposite direction, his confusion evident.

"James," the healer yelled as he pointed to a figure entering the field. The ranger's gaze focused on the oldest elf he had ever seen. The man walked regally, but stiffly. He looked as confused as Rafe had been when he had come upon the scene. The old elf's gaze flickered over him and dismissed him, then turned toward Joel, who was also noted and ignored. The gaze narrowed slightly on the healer, noting the elfin features but shook his head in disappointment. He started to turn back toward the ranger, then spied B'lair entering the clearing.

The old man gasped, his mouth opening and shutting, but no sound came forth. His arm came up and pointed at the startled young man. The old elf tried to take a step forward, but his eyes rolled back in his head just before he collapsed. The winds died as suddenly as they had begun.

"What in the hell was that all about?" Joel demanded, his eyes wide, his hand still on his sheathed sword.

Rafe jumped forward at the same time, kneeling next to the old man, checking for a pulse. "He's still alive. James, help me get him into a cottage."

The ranger tore his gaze off the pale elf trembling across the clearing from him and did as he was bid. Something significant had just happened. He just wish the hell he knew what.

B'lair gently sat on the side of the bed and studied the face of the old elf lying beside him. Ephel had seemed to age centuries in the decades he had been away. He knew grief was a powerful eroder, but was shocked by the woodcutter's skeletal frame. How had he survived? The thief looked out the open door of the cottage to where the others were gathered by the fire. B'lair had convinced the healer to take a break from his ministration long enough to eat in the hope that the older elf would wake while they were alone.

As if in answer to his thoughts, Ephel's eyes fluttered open and slowly focused on his face. "Your Hi--" he rasped, but stopped when he found the younger man's hand on his lips.

"I lost the right to that title the evening I fled," B'lair said in a harsh whisper.

"You survived."

"If you call this living."

The old man smiled. "You have finally returned to fulfill your destiny."

B'lair looked back over his shoulder to the others outside and noticed the ranger's head coming up. "I am not here to fulfill my destiny, old man," B'lair hissed. "You will not speak any further of this foolishness nor will you reveal who I am. Do you understand?"

The old elf started to protest, but the anger he saw in the younger man's eyes changed his mind. "Yes," he said simply.

"James," the younger elf acknowledged the ranger who stepped into the tiny cottage. "Our guest has awakened."

The ranger glanced back and forth between the two elves. The older one was serene, a smile playing at his lips. The younger one was agitated, breathing hard, trying desperately to cover up the emotions obviously roiling within him. "Joel. Rafael," James called out as he turned slightly. Both men entered the hut immediately. "Our host has awakened."

Sitting on the opposite side of the bed, feeling the older man's forehead with the back of his hand, the healer asked, "How do you feel?"

"Better, thank you."

Rafe took the older elf's wrist and checked his pulse. "Do you remember what happened?"

James did not miss the hesitant glance the old man gave the thief before he answered. "I was just shocked to see one of the People standing before me. I have been here by myself for so very long, I thought I must surely be dreaming him, but if it was a dream I was desperate not to awake from it."

The thief turned his head away from the old man for a moment before he looked back.

"Can you sit up?" the healer asked, and assisted the elderly elf when he nodded his assent.

"Who are you?" the ranger asked quietly from the foot of the bed.

"My name is Ephel. I was the village's woodsmith."

"Ephel, can you tell us what happened here?" James asked, noting the sudden discomfort of the young thief. "Why are you here -- alone? Where is everyone else?"

"They're dead. All of them. I alone survived."

"Survived what?" Taggart asked.

The old man cleared his throat and shot a quick glance at the younger elf, before proceeding in a deep voice usually used by storytellers and historians, belying his fragile frame. "Thirty-five years ago, the village was buzzing with anticipation. You see, the youngest son of Prince Gelion and the Princess Alexandria was about to ascend into adulthood. The child was much loved by the village and preparations for the celebration had been in the works for over a month. I, myself, had been working on his present for over six months for I had a special fondness for the boy and his older brother."

"All was festive the night of the celebration; a night which would have been the talk of the village for years to come. But in the midst of the celebration, a messenger came stumbling into the clearing bringing news of the capitol's destruction."

"The capitol?" Joel interrupted.

"Spokan," the elf replied. "It was where King Haidair resided. The messenger said the capitol lay in ruins, and everyone had been slain by trolls. Gelion, the king's youngest son, seemed to know that the messenger had betrayed the village. His last words were spoken to his family, of his love for them," Ephel said as he stared at the thief. "He was murdered seconds later. It was then that I noticed the trolls as they rose from the mist completely surrounding the clearing. They were huge and fully armored." The older elf gulped, his voice becoming shakier as he relived the events of the horrible night.

"The leader, a man named Brackett, assaulted the princess. I knew there was to be no escape. I had had... a conversation with the prince once when his father was having some diplomatic problems with one of his neighbors further north. He spoke to me at great length about how much his family meant to him, and how he could not live with the thought of their being harmed. In fact, he had intentionally moved away from the capitol. As the youngest child of the king he had no real power and decided he would not have his children shaped according to the intrigue of court politics. He had agreed, however, to send each of his children to be trained for their potential destiny," he said as his eyes flickered again over the quiet thief, "once they had reached their ascension."

Ephel coughed, his whole body shaking as he did. Rafael gently brought a flask of water to the old man's lips and watched as he sipped, careful not to choke him with too much liquid.

"My thanks, young one. I apologize for digressing. It's just that I haven't spoken with anyone in such a long time. Where was I? Oh, yes. During this difficult time Gelion's youngest child became lost in the woods chasing after a wolf pup. The prince had been convinced the boy had been taken for ransom. The child's older brother eventually found the missing youth after everyone else had given up, believing that foul play was indeed involved. The prince extracted a promise from me once the boy was safely at home. He made me swear that I would never allow any harm to come to his family. He...he begged me to...." The old man began to cry.

Rafe made soothing noises as he held the old elf's hand, trying to give as much comfort as he could under the circumstances.

The old man sniffed, his eyes fully upon the thief as he continued, totally oblivious to the rest of the men in the cottage. "When I saw the trolls, I knew we would be given no quarter. When I saw what Brackett intended to do to the princess, I knew her fate would be one of humiliation and pain. I could not allow that to happen. So I threw one of my whittling daggers and killed her. May the Unknown One forgive me," the old man wailed as his body contracted upward in grief. "Please forgive me."

B'lair lurched off the bed, his back against the wall, his eyes wide in horror.

After several minutes, the sobbing softened and the ranger spoke. "We can finish this another time."

"NO!" the old man yelled. "I must -- I must tell you what happened -- for I have been marked as Witness."

The ranger nodded hesitantly, fighting the overwhelming urge to take the younger elf in his arms and flee the village.

"Brackett ordered everyone killed. The trolls moved forward as one; their circle shrinking, killing everything inside. When the circle became too crowded, trolls would fall back, forming a second circle. Those who managed to escape the first circle were unable to escape the second or third or the...

"Fadril was captain of the prince's guard. He saw the strategy early on and organized several of his men to attack one section of the circle and force an opening so that the two remaining princes could escape. He was successful. At least, I never ran across the bodies," he hastily amended. "However, the gap quickly closed. We were herded closer and closer together into the center of the clearing. After a while, there was nowhere to run and we simply stood, clutching each other, waiting to be slaughtered.

"I was giving my last praises to the Unknown One for a life I had considered truly blessed up until that point, when Malinalda rose from the very center of our group. I had always known she possessed great magic within her, but she had never used it. I think in many ways it frightened her. She began an incantation. I knew it would be powerful, horrible, for the air around us seemed charged -- like after a lightning strike. The trolls never stopped their slaughter, but for me time seemed to slow.

"In a calm voice Malinalda looked down at us and demanded we give her the last of our strength to protect our heritage and our future. People around me murmured their assent and I could feel her growing stronger as her magic reverberated around us. I was about to give my own assent when she looked down upon me and said in the most ancient of voices 'For your crime of love, I sentence you to be Witness -- to see the story finished.'

"As soon as she finished speaking, an arrow pierced her chest, but she just laughed. She rubbed her hands over her bloody chest and raised them to the sky and shouted, 'A blood oath, I decree. Until the last heir returns to take his rightful place on the throne, this village will remain a curse unto all who have caused its destruction. Beware, for we are his strength to be called upon when needed and vengeance shall be ours.' She then fell back into my arms and died. I remember being hit from behind then all was blackness."

Ephel paused, taking several stronger breaths. "When I awoke, the village was deserted. I would have thought it all a bad dream had it not been for the bodies which remained. It took me days to bury them all and every day I expected the trolls to come back and finish me off, but they did not. I see them occasionally on the fringes of the village, but they never enter."

The small group took what the elderly elf had told them in stunned silence.

"And you have waited here ever since?" Rafael asked quietly, when the silence became deafening.

"Yes, I await the last heir to take his rightful place on the throne, so that I may pass into the peace of the next life."

B'lair sneered. "And what awaits your precious last heir once he takes the throne? He would be a ruler to a kingdom of ghosts or worse yet -- trolls."

"He cannot fight his destiny," Ephel said pointedly.

"You would condemn him to a life of hell for your own peace?" the thief snapped.

The old man began to cry softly. "No. Never."

B'lair closed his eyes as if in pain, and strode out into the darkness without another word.

James stepped out of the small cottage and raised his face to the stars, allowing the breeze to flow around him for a moment as he collected his thoughts.

B'lair was the last heir from Ephel's story. Of that, he had no doubt. But even armed with this information, he was unsure what course to take.

It was obvious the young thief did not wish anyone to know about his past, but they would all have to be blind not to be able to put the clues together.

For now, James decided, he would let the elf have his secret, but decided he would not allow him to face his grief alone. He would explain his decision to the others in the morning.

The ranger had no problem tracking the elf's meandering trail between the various cottages to the edge of the village where he found the thief hugging a large wolf. The animal chuffed slightly, causing B'lair to release him. Sitting back on his heels, the elf watched his friend disappear into the cover of night.

"He's beautiful," James said quietly to the back of the young man.

"Yes, he is. He reminds me of a pup I use to play with in my youth."

"Friendly."

The young man stood and turned to face the ranger. "He must be Ephel's."

James stared into the elf's face, noticing the hardness in the eyes. "Are you all right?" he asked softly, when what he really wanted to ask was 'Am I losing you?'

"Yes," the thief replied, as if in answer to both questions.

The ranger moved toward the elf and was not surprised when the younger man took a step backward. However, his step brought his back against a large tree. Moving to close the distance, James looked down into the eyes of the young man who had just that morning teased him with his body. "I love you."

B'lair closed his eyes as if trying to refuse the truth of the statement. "I know."

"Let me be your strength," the ranger whispered, and felt the denial run through the young man's body. His lips barely brushed against the elf's. "Just for tonight, B'lair. Just for tonight."

The elf stood frozen for a moment then collapsed against the older man's chest, but did not cry. James wrapped his arms around the thief and held him tightly, as if his life depended on it. He stood watch over the trembling younger man until B'lair's legs began to collapse. Ellison picked him up and carried the elf to the closest cottage, laying him in the middle of the bed and cocooning the smaller body with his own, until the thief fell asleep.

B'lair awoke, a little shocked to find himself alone. The ranger, no doubt, was checking on the others. He stretched and got out of the bed, intent on finding the members of his party, but stopped as a shadow fell across the doorway.

"Do you know what has haunted me the most over the decades?" Ephel asked quietly, standing at the entrance of the cottage.

"No. What?" B'lair asked in quiet surprise.

"It was not the taking of your mother's life for, being the kind soul she was, I knew then as I know now, she would have forgiven me. No, it is a small voice crying out in pain, 'Ephel killed Mama, Sky. Ephel killed Mama' right after the trolls bellowed their initial war cry. At night when the wind kicks up, I can sometimes hear their voices -- laughing. The laughter always turns to terror, but not before I hear that soft voice cry out in confusion. I knew you didn't understand why I did what I did. The thought that you might have survived all these years and might one day return only to hate me was more than I could bear on some nights. On more than one occasion over the years, I have attempted to take my own life, but Malinalda's spell is a powerful one and I have never been able to complete the task."

"I don't hate you, Ephel," B'lair said in a voice rough with emotion.

"You have every right."

"No," the younger elf rasped softly. "It is I who must beg you for forgiveness. I ran like a coward. I left you all to die."

"No, your Majesty, no," Ephel said as he strode forward and grasped the young man's shoulders. "You were a child. There was nothing you could have done. Had you come back, you would have been murdered."

"Better to have died with my people than to scrounge an existence which served no purpose other than vengeance."

"No, your Majesty. Your destiny is to take back what was stolen from our people."

"Look around, Ephel. There is nothing left of our people. You and I are the only ones who remain."

"I refuse to believe that, Sire. We elves are made of stronger stuff. Once you ascend the throne and take your rightful place, they will come. You must trust me."

"Oh, Ephel." B'lair hugged the frail old man tightly. "I have so missed your kindness."

"As I you, my Prince, my King," the old man said, his eyes filling with tears. "If it had not been for your noisy baby, I would have gone quite mad."

"Then it is he?"

"Aye, he must have gotten caught up in Malinalda's spell somehow, but it is evident that he still remembers his favorite babysitter." The old man laughed, holding the younger man out at arm's length and drinking him in.

"Forgive my behavior last night?" B'lair whispered hopefully, uncomfortable under the old man's steady gaze.

"You have been alone for far too long, little one. I can see it in your eyes. Young Sky--"

"Was killed the morning after the massacre."

"Fire and stars, child! Have you been alone this whole time?"

"No, Ephel. I sought out mother's older sister, Naomi. She took me in and taught me how to survive in the humans' world. She's helped me in my quest to find the human called Brackett, but so far he has eluded me."

The old man gasped and pulled away. "Then you don't know?"

"Know what?"

"The man they call Leigh is Brackett. He changed his name to avoid the stigma of his evil deeds."

B'lair grabbed the old man's arms, demanding his full attention. "How -- how do you know this, Ephel?"

"Rainier haunts him. He wants this land, but he cannot enter. He comes to the edge of the village and taunts me from time to time, as I cannot leave. He sees me as a confidant in some sadistic, twisted way. He hopes to expand his empire -- to eventually rule all of the kingdoms. However," the old man grinned in embarrassment, "I have done my own share of taunting, I'm afraid. I've told him to stay in this little corner of the world to await his destiny -- you. I have told him that I have dreamed dreams which spoke of your prowess in battle. At first he mocked me, but now -- now he is afraid of you and what you represent."

B'lair laughed as he again hugged the older man close to him. "I am no more dangerous than the young healer who tended you last night."

"Ahh, but even a healer can cause pain, young one, if properly motivated."

"Oh, I'm motivated all right," B'lair said in a cold voice.

"Good," the elderly elf said, stepping back and looking into the determined face of the last heir. "But best of all, you are not alone as you undertake this journey and for that I rejoice."

"I thought you said you could not leave the village?"

"I cannot, your Majesty. I was referring to your companions."

"My companions are human, Ephel. They will not help me kill a human king."

The elderly elf frowned. "You underestimate them."

"I cannot involve them. They are here to open trade negotiations with this Leigh Brackett."

"Then we must--"

"No, we will tell them nothing."

"But your Majesty--"

"We will tell them nothing, Ephel," B'lair's voice rang with quiet authority.

The woodsmith bowed his head in submission, but raised it once again. "Brackett is a snake, my young king. Do not doubt he will weave masterful lies for your companions if you do not tell them the truth first."

"I will not have Brackett's blood on the hands of innocents, my old friend. What I do, I will take full responsibility for."

"But how will you protect them?"

"With Malinalda's legacy."

"I beg your pardon?"

B'lair removed the pouch from his belt and poured the amulets into his hand.

The older elf gasped. "Sire, do you understand what these are?"

"Wards, I believe."

"Once you put the amulet on its intended, it will disappear from sight. These are infused with incredibly strong magic. These will keep you safe, your Majesty."

B'lair closed his eyes, but decided not to correct the old woodcutter. The amulets would insure that the innocent would remain safe.

"Let's go get something to eat, my old friend," the thief said with a smile as he hooked his arm through the older man's and exited the cottage.

Rafael was surprised by the peace which seemed to settle over his friend. B'lair had been torn the day before, barely hanging on to the edge of sanity, but morning had revealed him to be relaxed, at ease with his demons. He even laughed once while talking to the old woodsmith.

The healer noticed that James was also aware of the difference, but did not seem to be as happy about the change as he was.

The elderly elf had explained to the group how he was unable to leave the village due to the curse and even though James was not happy about leaving him behind, had agreed to do so temporarily, so they could complete their mission. The ranger and Joel left the village shortly thereafter to do some hunting for the carpenter so he would have meat after they left.

Ephel muttered something about having a chore to attend to after the warriors left and had excused himself from the campfire. Rafael watched the thief repack his satchel for several minutes. "Who was Skylanthalus?"

The elf's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing.

"You called me by his name after I had been attacked by the Patriots," Rafe whispered in explanation, almost afraid to continue in the face of such quiet countenance.

B'lair stood and walked slowly to the healer who was sitting on a fallen log, then turned and sat with his back to the young man. "Braid my hair," he commanded quietly.

Confused, the halfling did as he was told, taking a moment to enjoy the feel of the silken tresses in his hands. He started when he realized the thief was speaking to him in a whispered voice.

"He was my cousin, but I considered him my brother. He was my protector and the other half of my soul."

Rafe swallowed hard as he continued to weave the hair before him. "His was the name you would not speak because it is the hatred for those who killed him which has kept you alive for so many years?"

"Yes," was the barely breathed answer.

The healer's hands shook as he accepted the leather strap offered by the elf and tied off the single braid. He remained silent for several moments, afraid to push any more than he already had, but his curiosity demanded the final answer. "You saved me that first night because ..." he stopped when the thief turned and pierced him with his dark blue gaze.

B'lair reached out a hand and tenderly brushed a lock of sandy brown hair out of the eyes of the boy, who was both younger and older than he was. "Because you reminded me so much of him," he whispered as he brought the other hand up and gently laid it on his cheek. "I will not allow you to die as he did, Rafael. I will not fail you as I failed him," he barely breathed next to the halfling's ear, before he left the fire.

Rafe watched as the thief disappeared amongst the cottages. He had always believed if the thief could ever talk about his pain, he would feel relieved. So why was it that his shoulders seemed to carry the weight of the elf's admission, he thought as he rubbed his neck.

B'lair peeked around the corner of the nearest cottage in time to see the healer rub his neck. Other than a moment of irritation, there was no other indication that the younger man realized the magical amulet had been placed around his neck. One down, two to go.

James returned to camp a couple of hours later with several quail, while Joel returned with three rabbits. Ephel thanked them profusely and immediately set about preparing the animals. James' gaze instinctively sought B'lair's and was relieved to see that his mood was still light. When he looked over at the healer, however, he noticed the young man seemed to be out of sorts.

"Are you all right, Rafael?" James asked the distracted young man.

"Yes. Yes, of course, James. I -- I made a stew from the rabbit Joel caught yesterday, if you two are hungry."

"In a moment, son," the ranger smiled as he ruffled the boy's hair and laid his weapons beside the fire before moving towards the elf. "Walk with me?" he asked and was rewarded with a smile from the younger man.

"Of course."

"How are you feeling?" James asked softly when they reached the edge of the village.

"Much better, thank you," the elf said sincerely. A smile washed over his face as the wolf trotted up beside him and nudged his leg.

"He really seems to like you."

The younger man squatted down and ran his hands along the spine of the animal and listened to it make several small happy noises. "I've always had an affinity with wolves."

"He certainly talks a lot." The ranger laughed, but didn't try to stroke the animal.

"Must be why Ephel calls him JaJaNa. It means 'noisy baby'."

"We'll be leaving for the capitol in the morning," James said, changing the subject.

"I'll be ready."

"I'm not sure you should come with us."

The elf stood slowly, and whispered, "Go on," to the wolf before he turned to face the ranger, his eyes cold. "And why would that be?"

"I'm worried about you ... about ..." James reached for the elf, but B'lair stepped back out of his reach.

"Why did you bring me along on this mission?" the younger man demanded.

"Because I was walking into an unknown situation and I wanted someone I could trust and who wouldn't panic under pressure."

The elf frowned. "So you feel you can no longer trust me, is that it?"

"No, of course not."

"You think I'm going to panic?"

"I --"

B'lair closed his eyes briefly. "In all fairness, I do understand your concern. My behavior over the last twenty-four hours has been rather -- erratic -- shall we say. And while I have no way to prove it to you, please know that I have worked through my demons."

James took a step closer and brought both of his palms up to cup the elf's cheeks, searching the young man's eyes for the truth. "I believe you," he said finally. He wanted to ask more, but decided not to stress the thin bond between them any more than necessary. Releasing his lover's face, he asked quietly, "Would you mind asking Joel to come here for a minute?"

"Sure," the thief replied as he started to turn, but stopped and looked back at the ranger. Slowly, he closed the distance between them and reached out to pulled the ranger's head down for a gentle but thorough kiss. "I never thought I'd ever feel this way about a human," he breathed over James' lips before kissing him again and disappearing into the night.

James frowned. Had the elf just told him he finally trusted him or was it deeper than that -- had he just admitted his love? He wondered if he was doing the right thing by letting the younger man accompany them to the capitol, but a feeling deep in his soul told him that their growing relationship would greatly depend on what happened in the next few days.

"You wanted to see me, James?" Joel asked as he unconsciously rubbed his neck. He scratched his chest lightly as he drew nearer to his friend.

"Yes, we move out at dawn," the ranger said, ready to face whatever lay before them.

B'lair's first thoughts as he rose through the levels of consciousness were of the wonderful warmth which surrounded him, making him feel not only protected, but cherished as well. He sifted lazily through his memories trying to remember the last time he had awakened feeling so secure. His eyes fluttered open as he realized it had been only three mornings ago at the Crossroads Inn. Ghosting his fingers above the smooth solid chest in front of his face, he wondered why the battle for his soul seemed so important to this human. Why did one of the most dangerous humans on the planet care what happened to an orphaned elven thief?

He rolled his head back to look up into the ranger's face and was startled to find the object of his study awake. Quietly, he asked, "Did you get any sleep at all?"

"Enough," was the equally quiet response.

B'lair opened his mouth to speak, unsure what he wanted to say to this human, yet feeling somewhere in the depths of his soul that he needed -- desperately needed -- to give this man the answers to the questions he begged to ask, but yet still unsure if he could.

James placed his fingers gently on the elf's lips. "I know," he said no louder than a warm breath.

"I --"

"It's okay," James whispered, tenderly pressing his lips to the thief's forehead. "I'm not going anywhere. We have an eternity to say it all."

B'lair wrapped his arms around the warrior and held him tight, wanting to believe they would have an eternity, but knowing his destiny, whether he wanted to face it or not, would be determined once they reached Spokan. He felt the walls around his heart begin to crack as the warrior returned the embrace. Biting the inside of his cheek, he tried to shore up the weaknesses in the barrier, knowing if he let his heart free all would be lost -- again.

James could feel the tension rippling through the younger man's body and knew what the elf was trying to do, for he too had reinforced the walls around his heart on several occasions during his lifetime. However, unlike the thief, he never had a lover who was willing to trek across his emotional wastelands to the oasis deep within waiting for someone brave enough to discover it. He knew the elf didn't believe his promise not to leave, although he could see the longing in the younger man's eyes. James was a patient man. He would be like the surf pounding against the rocky shore. It might take years, but he would wear the walls down.

The thief drifted back to sleep and the ranger chuckled softly, though deeply moved by the fact he was able to give the younger man such a measure of peace. "Hey sleepyhead. We need to get up and moving." He laughed again as the elf groaned his protest, but didn't budge.

Taking the younger man's chin in his fingers, he raised the beloved face and gently brushed a kiss over the full lips. The elf sighed contentedly, following the mouth upwards, opening his own to draw the ranger in.

"Oh no you don't." James scolded after indulging himself within the warm invitation for several moments. Scooping the elf up into his arms, he stood and allowed the arm holding the thief's head and shoulders to fall away, holding the younger man upside down. The rich laughter which floated upward warmed him, and he enjoyed the sight of watching the thief walking on his hands for several paces before slowly lowering his feet to the floor.

"I had no idea you were so flexible," James said with aroused amusement.

The elf threw him a look of such promise that it took all the ranger's discipline not to grab the thief and throw him back onto the bed. "You're going to age me before my time," he whispered in a shaky voice, trying to control his need.

"Or I could make mere minutes seem like an eternity," the elf teased suggestively as he leaned back against the wall of the small cottage, his hips jutted forward slightly.

"What you do to me." James groaned as he quickly closed the distance and pressed the thief back against the wall. He leaned down and gave the elf a hard kiss, a promise of things to come, then took a step back. He growled, a mixture of contentment and frustration, before pushing the younger man out of the hut. "Go wake the others, we need to leave within the hour."

B'lair threw him a playful pout, then graced him with a smile which would have rivaled the sun had it been out, before he slipped from the cottage.

James grinned after him, then rubbed a hand over his tired face. Maybe, just maybe, their bond would be strong enough to survive the next couple of days. The smile slowly disappeared as a sense of foreboding seeped into his bones. Something lay waiting for them in Spokan, something with the power to destroy them. He closed his eyes and prayed they would be strong enough not only to overcome it, but to survive it together, as well.

B'lair stood with his pack slung over his shoulder as he committed the image of the old woodsmith to memory. "How can I leave you a second time?" he whispered.

"Because it is your destiny to do so, Majesty."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that."

"What would you have me call you?"

"B'lair."

"B'lair," the old man smiled gently at the young elf. "Young Sky did a good job when he chose your name. It means 'balance,' and you certainly did give him stability."

The thief nodded, unable to speak.

"You still miss him?"

"So badly that some days it is a wonder I am able to draw a breath," B'lair confessed.

"Your young healer reminds me a lot of your brother," Ephel said as he nodded to Rafael who sat a short distance away securing the straps on his satchel.

"It's the eyes, I think. He has so much enthusiasm for life, wants to help so much, wants to belong."

"You do know that you changed Skylanthalus' life the day you were born, don't you?" the older elf asked with a knowing smile.

"In what way?" B'lair countered, knowing by his brother's own words that the statement was true, but wanting to talk about him for just a little bit longer with someone else who remembered him.

"It was when he started to live again. You wouldn't think that a four year old would need to be reminded to live, but he did. He needed someone to take care of, someone to love."

"In the short time that he lived, he was my world," B'lair whispered.

"You know, in many ways, your ranger also reminds me of him."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your James ... there is no doubt he is a strong man, even a man to be feared; although when I see him look at you, all I can see is a man who needs to take care of someone, to be allowed to love someone unconditionally."

"What?" B'lair sputtered.

"It's written all over his face," Ephel said in exasperation, as if he couldn't believe his young master could be so blind. The woodsmith took a step forward and gripped the thief's shoulders. "Let him love you, B'lair Woodfoxen. Allow yourself to love him in return."

"He's human, Ephel."

"So you cannot love him because of his race?"

"Wha ... of course not."

"Then what is the problem?"

B'lair took several steps away from the woodsmith and then turned back and whispered softly, "He'll die."

"We all die sooner or later. But for the moment, for your time together, however brief or long, allow yourself to feel his love while he is still with you."

"He's not Sky," the thief growled in a low voice.

Ephel closed the distance slowly as if afraid the young man would bolt. When he was close enough, he put his palms on both sides of the thief's face. "Skylanthalus died thirty-five years ago."

"I know that," B'lair said angrily, trying to pull away, but the elderly man held him tightly in his hands. "You, Majesty, did not die."

"Of course, I didn't die. You're not making any sense, Ephel."

The woodsmith lowered one of his hands from the thief's face and placed it over the younger elf's heart. "Tell me your heart didn't die when Skylanthalus did, B'lair." When the prince refused to make eye contact, he whispered, "Do not let love slip through your fingers, your Majesty, for it is more rare than the most precious gem."

The thief's breath hitched and the older elf pulled him in for a tight hug. "Take a chance, child."

"But I have a destiny to fulfill."

"Ahh, you think to win this argument by throwing an old man's words back at him." The woodcutter chuckled knowingly. "Mark my words, Majesty. When the fire is over, your James will be waiting for you."

B'lair looked over at the ranger, who was making a last sweep around the camp, and smiled at the thought of having those protective arms wrapped around him for the rest of his life. The smile faded a bit when he remembered that he didn't expect to survive the fortnight, but the initial thought was a pleasant enough diversion. He smiled gently at his old friend and held him tight. "Be safe, Ephel."

"Be safe, my lord; but not so safe that you won't risk your heart for a chance at happiness."

"You don't ever stop, do you?"

"Not while there is still breath in my body."

Together they laughed and hugged one last time before B'lair released him, ready to face his destiny.

"We will return, Ephel," James said solemnly, clearly unhappy at the thought of leaving the old woodsmith behind in a dead village.

Ephel smiled as he clasped the ranger's forearm. "And I shall be here, James... waiting for you."

"Do you have enough meat?"

"By the Unknown One's name, I have enough meat to last me a year. It'll take me the rest of the week just to turn what I have into jerky."

The ranger nodded. "Very well."

"Swift journey, my friend," the elf said as he released the human's arm.

Rafael stepped forward to say his good-byes.

"Goodbye, young one," the elder elf smiled.

"I'm really not that young," the healer sighed.

Laughing, Ephel grasped the halfling's shoulders. "To me, everyone is a child."

"Stay safe, Ephel." Rafe grasped the woodsmith's shoulders in return.

The older elf leaned forward and whispered in the healer's ear, "You are accepted, young one. Do not fret so much over your place in life. These men are your brothers, and family accepts all in love, even self-perceived flaws."

Rafael gasped, but the older man just chuckled as he pulled away and stuck his hand out to the dark warrior. "Joel. I will try that recipe you told me about tonight. My mouth waters just thinking about the stew."

"I'll be anxious to hear whether you liked it or not," Joel said, clasping the hand. "Stay safe, Ephel."

"And you, my friend."

No words were spoken as the woodsmith walked over to B'lair and simply placed his hand over the young prince's heart. The thief returned the gesture, smiled, then turned and walked out of the village. JaJaNa trotted after him, tongue lolling happily, until they reached the forest's edge.

"B'lair," Rafe called to his friend as the wolf began showing distress, taking several steps toward the thief, and then several back toward the village.

"Bring him with us," Joel suggested as he passed the animal who stood staring at the elf.

B'lair sighed as he walked back and knelt beside the animal. "I didn't want to say goodbye to you, my old friend." He hugged the wolf tightly, then nudged him back toward the village. The wolf resisted. "You must stay. Someone needs to watch over the old one and I must follow the path before me." The animal whined piteously, butting the young man with his head. B'lair scratched the wolf's ears before pushing the animal back toward the village. The wolf gave him one final look of longing, then reluctantly headed back.

"You didn't have to do that," James said, helping the elf to his feet.

"I cannot deprive Ephel of his only companion," B'lair said quietly, and gently squeezed the ranger's hand in thanks. "Besides, we have important people to see and most humans are put off by the sight of large predators. Must be why you have such a reputation."

James laughed, playfully shoving the thief after the others, shaking his head in amusement.

*Safe journey to those who keep to the path. Death to those who stray*

"Well, that's a rather ominous sign," Rafael said quietly after he translated the wooden emblem before them.

"Shall we ignore it?" Joel asked, slightly distracted as he watched the thief put his hair up under a cloth, making sure his ears and eyebrows were covered.

James scanned the woods around the path, his nostrils flaring, his head tilted to one side. "No. We'll stick to the path."

"But why?" Rafe asked, knowing the original plan had been to observe the comings and goings of Spokan before they entered the city.

"Trolls," B'lair said simply.

"He's right. There's evidence of them everywhere. For whatever reason, Leigh is allowing safe passage to travelers, but there will be no exploration of his lands," the ranger said in frustration.

"Can't we simply elude the trolls?" the healer persisted.

"Have you ever seen a troll on the hunt?" B'lair asked quietly, his voice void of inflection. The healer shook his head. "Troll warriors have a heightened sense of smell. Once a troll has your scent there is no evading it. They may be slow, but they are tireless and will simply run you to ground. Trolls on the hunt are more terrifying than a pack of starving wolves. Your only chance of escape is to kill them, which isn't easy due to their thick, almost scale-like, skin. However, if you should succeed in killing one, you have even direr consequences to face as trolls have complex family systems, and they take the death of a family member very seriously. Few have ever survived a troll blood mark on their head."

Rafe could not turn away from the haunted eyes before him.

"So what's the plan?" Joel asked, also clearly unnerved by the quiet explanation.

"We follow the path to Spokan and knock on the front door," James said with a resigned shrug. His eyes never left the thief's face, knowing on a gut level the elf had a blood mark on his head and wondering what level of hell they would be entering when they arrived at the capitol.

B'lair was stunned. Ever since Skylanthalus had forcibly pulled him from the ever shrinking circle of death thirty-five years before, he had always believed the messenger's statement about everyone in the capitol being dead. He had no reason to disbelieve it. Trolls were ruthless, and their thirst for blood during battle was legendary. He knew to the depths of his soul that he and Ephel were the only ones to survive the massacre at Rainier, but he could not deny the evidence before him. Elves of all shapes and sizes moved around them as his small group walked through the streets toward the castle nestled inside the middle of the city.

The citizens of Spokan had a defeated air about them. They appeared to go about their lives in a quiet manner, almost as if afraid to draw attention to themselves. There were no loud noises, no bright colors, no laughter. They had the air of a subjugated people. But they were alive.

No one appeared to be paying much attention to the small group of strangers in their midst, but closer scrutiny revealed that they were very much the center of focus as they made their way through the midday crowd. Several troll soldiers noted their passage, but made no effort to detain them. They simply watched their progress toward the castle proper.

He was torn between hoping someone from his family might still be alive and hoping they weren't -- terrified of the tortures they would have faced at Brackett's hands. Taking a deep breath, he reinforced the walls around his heart against the inevitable.

"James Ellison, Emissary from King Simon of Cascadia, along with my companions to see King Leigh," James told the troll who stood guard at the end of the drawbridge.

"Yeth." The creature nodded differentially. "We've been told to ecthpect an emithary. Pleathe go beneath the portcullith to the main door and announthe yourthelf to Thalian. He will make your announthement to the King."

"My thanks." With a nod of his head, he indicated to his team they should follow. The ranger spared a glance at the thief to see how he seemed to be handling the situation, and found the young man who had accompanied him to steal King Kincaid's signet ring, a man with his walls completely in place; tough; independent; competent. And yet, James suspected he knew what it would cost the man to walk through the gates of the castle and into his own personal nightmare.

They were led quietly through the castle to the throne room. But instead of stopping to announce their presence to those assembled, they were led straight back to a small antechamber to the right of the throne. Thalian asked them to wait, while he disappeared behind another set of doors.

Moments later a human stepped out from behind the door and warmly greeted the ranger. "Welcome. Welcome. I apologize for not greeting you in a more formal setting, but I wanted to meet with you first before we got the old rumor mill, otherwise known as the Court, started. I am Leigh, ruler of the territory known as Olympia."

"James Ellison," the ranger said in greeting, shaking the King's outstretched hand. "We bring greetings from King Simon of Cascadia."

"Wonderful. Wonderful." The man flashed his white teeth at them in a smile. "Was your journey a pleasant one? Nothing untoward happened, I hope."

"Our journey was quite pleasant. Thank you."

"And who do you have with you?"

"This is Joel Taggart, one of my oldest and dearest friends, who accompanies me on my missions for King Simon."

"Welcome, Joel," the king said warmly as he shook the dark warrior's hand.

"Our healer, Rafael."

"You have your own personal healer? I'm quite impressed, James. A pleasure to meet you, Rafael. I'll have to arrange for you to meet with my own healer and see if you two have any information you'd like to exchange."

"Thank you, your Majesty. I would be honored."

"And who is this man with the startling blue eyes?"

"B'lair. B'lair Sandburg," the elf said quietly, nodding his head, but refusing to reach his hand forward, ignoring the startled looks from his companions.

Squinting his eyes as he took in the slender figure before him, Leigh asked quietly, "Have we met before, young man?"

"No. I have never been to Spokan before."

"Hmmm." The king seemed to think for a moment, then graced everyone with a smile. "I'm sure we've crossed paths before. No matter. I'll think of it eventually. In the meantime, you will no doubt wish to refresh yourselves after such a long and arduous journey. Thalian, please show our guests to their rooms."

"Yeth, your Majethty." The troll nodded obediently as he indicated for the group to follow him.

"We will talk more at dinner," Leigh promised James with a bright smile, though he never quite took his eyes off the thief.

"You arrived juth in time. Dinner thall be therved in half an hour. That thould give you enough time to refreth yourthelveth," Thalian said quietly as he lead each member to a separate room. "I will be back thortly to retrieve you."

B'lair entered his suite and dropped his satchel onto the bed. He closed his eyes and tried to find his center, knowing his time alone would soon be interrupted. Rubbing his hands over his face, he sank down onto the edge of his bed, his mind burning with the face of the man who was responsible for the death of his family. Ephel was right. The human known as Leigh was Brackett. He was about to have dinner with the man who had murdered all those he held dear and destroyed his home.

A knock on his door broke his concentration.

"Come," he called out and was not surprised to see the ranger enter his room.

"Do you want to explain what happened in the antechamber?" James asked quietly as he stood before the thief.

B'lair sighed, not really wanting to explain, but knowing he didn't have much choice. "I do not normally use my real name while out in the world. I gave you my true name; but for professional reasons, I would rather keep it private."

"I see," James said quietly, although his tone indicated otherwise. "I know of an elven trader by the name of Sandburg. Do you, by chance, know her?"

"Yes. I know Naomi."

James stood in front of the elf for several minutes, wanting the young man to make eye contact with him, but the thief refused. Finally, in frustration, he sighed. "B'lair --"

"James, would it be a terrible breach of protocol if I did not attend tonight's supper? I have not felt well since we entered the city, and would like to take the opportunity to rest. Unless, you feel you need my presence tonight?" the elf asked as he finally looked up at the ranger.

The ranger noted the younger man's pale features and tenderly cupped one cheek with his palm. "No. You should rest. Tonight will simply be chit-chat, an exchange of informal information. Tomorrow, we'll hammer out the details of the trade agreement. Get some sleep. I'd like you by my side tomorrow."

"Thank you for understanding," the elf said quietly.

James nodded and lowered his head. B'lair leaned his head back on his shoulders and received the kiss, tenderly returning it as his fingers stroked through the ranger's hair. James gently pushed the elf onto his back, never withdrawing his lips from the elf's.

"I will stop by to check on you before I retire," James promised quietly as he brushed the back of his hand over the elf's forehead. Satisfied, the ranger turned and left the room

When the door was knocked upon again, it was not the ranger who came in, but the young healer.

"How are you feeling, B'lair?"

The elf turned from his seat by the window. "I'm feeling much better. Thank you."

Rafael closed the distance between them and felt his forehead. "Have you eaten anything?"

"Yes. One of the trolls dropped off a dinner plate a few hours ago."

"King Leigh is a very fine host and actually quite charming. I had no idea what to expect of a man who has troll warriors as servants. It's a little disconcerting, I can tell you. But he seems to be a good man, intent on opening his borders to trade with the other kingdoms. I'm beginning to think this might be a good thing for both Cascadia and Olympia."

B'lair closed his eyes in frustration. Ephel had been right. Brackett was a master at weaving lies, already catching the younger healer in his net. B'lair could only conclude that James had also been similarly swayed.

"I think I'm going to go back to bed," B'lair said quietly.

"Of course," Rafe said with a smile. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a big day." And with that, the younger healer turned to leave. "Leigh is going to introduce me to Charles, his personal physician, tomorrow, so I guess I better get some rest myself so I don't come across as a complete country bumpkin."

"You could never come across as a bumpkin, Rafael."

The healer graced him with a smile before slipping out of the room.

James knocked on the door and slipped in an hour later. The elf appeared to be asleep and so he gently kissed the young man's forehead before he left.

As soon as the door shut, B'lair opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He would have to act tonight. If Brackett were killed during negotiations, things could go very badly for James, Simon and Cascadia. No, he would do it beforehand, before the others got further enmeshed in Brackett's web of lies.

James awoke the moment the door handle moved. He palmed the sword hilt which was leaning against the bed, but relaxed as soon as B'lair's lithe figure slipped silently into the room. He watched the thief lock the door behind him and move to the center of the room, stopping within a shaft of moonlight. The ranger's breath caught at the vision standing before him, seemingly unmarred by any physical imperfections.

James knew the elf could not see him, but it did not keep B'lair from speaking to him as if he knew the ranger was awake.

"I have known love."

Such a simple, and yet complex, statement; saying so much and yet nothing at all. "From Skylanthalus," James said knowingly, unable to prevent a slight tone of jealousy from coloring his voice.

"He was the center of my universe." B'lair slowly reached up and removed the cloth which hid his hair and ears.

"I gathered as much."

"I learned to walk because I could not bear the thought of him leaving me behind," the elf told him quietly, unfurling his braid and running his fingers through his curls, separating them until they cascaded around his head and shoulders.

"I learned to talk because there was so much he seemed to want to tell me." The elf removed his sword belt and lowered it to the floor.

"I learned to read because he wanted to show me the world." He slowly untied the bindings of his shirt, letting the garment slip from his shoulders onto the floor.

"I learned to love because he showed me what love was." The thief explained as he stepped from his trousers, allowing the moonlight to caress his skin.

"My brother was everything to me."

"Your brother?" James asked in astonished relief.

"His last words, even though an arrow had pierced his chest, draining the life from him, were to tell me he loved me."

"Beloved ..." James whispered the word, feeling the pain emanating from the young man.

"I closed my heart off at that moment, never allowing anyone to be close to me again for I knew I would never be able to survive such devastation a second time." B'lair moved to the side of the bed. "For thirty-five years, I have devoted every waking moment to finding the man -- the human -- responsible for his death. I have never had any use for humans. They are a race motivated by greed, caring little for those around them."

James drew in a ragged breath as the young man placed one knee on the bed. "What changed your mind?"

"I have not changed my mind about the race. I have, however, changed my mind about a few individuals, one specifically."

James wet his suddenly dry lips. "Why?"

"Skylanthalus used to stand behind me. He would watch me run ahead and make my mistakes. While he loved me and wanted to protect me, he understood that I must learn some lessons on my own; but he was never so far away that he couldn't reach out and touch me," B'lair said quietly as he slowly crawled over the recumbent ranger, straddling his hips. He gently touched the ranger's face with his fingertips. "He always seemed to make me feel as if I were wrapped in a blanket of warmth and security. His death left me cold. I've been cold for so long ... until ..."

"Until?"

The elf leaned down and brushed his lips over the ranger's. "Until I met you. No matter how hard I pushed, you remained; always watching, ready to reach out and give me comfort and security if I needed it." His fingers brushed lightly over James' chest, circling each nipple once and then butterfly danced down the older man's abdomen. "Why?" he asked with a whisper.

"Because I love you." The words were barely breathed.

"Why?"

"Because my whole life I have felt as if I were missing half of my soul. When I met you, broken, battered and yet strong of spirit, I felt complete, as if the universe had suddenly shown me the piece I had been missing for so long." James' body arched everywhere the elf touched him.

"The universe has an ironic sense of timing." B'lair covered the ranger's body with his own, kissing the larger man's neck and gently lathing his Adam's apple with his tongue.

"What do you mean?" James asked as he brought his hands up and fisted them in the elf's hair.

B'lair moaned as James' tongue plunged gently but deeply into his mouth. The ranger pulled the elf's head back and nipped his neck, shuddering as the younger man's fingers gripped his chest.

The elf whimpered. "Love me."

"I already do." The ranger rolled the younger man onto his back, but was startled when the elf continued the roll and ended back on top.

Panting, the thief thrust his hips forward, gasping as their bodies aligned. "Let me..." he ground out between gritted teeth as he thrust again, the friction building with each movement. "Let me... love... you." The words were spoken in a soft sob of need.

"Yes." James hissed in pleasure, arching upward. "Take what you need, beloved. Take... everything you... need."

B'lair's hands flared out, his fingers entwining with the ranger's. James slowly moved his hands out from his body, lowering the elf's twisting frame until he could gently suckle the closest nipple. B'lair cried out and his rhythm became faster. James worried the nub with his tongue until it was hard, until the thief's head whipped back and forth, his hair stinging the ranger's face. James bit his way over to the other nipple, refusing to let go of the elf's hands; his hips raising to meet each plunge with equal force. His tongue circled teasingly around the nub until B'lair's moans became silent screams as he came. Joyously, James joined him in release, his arms reaching up and pulling the younger man down in a hard embrace, holding the trembling body.

The elf sobbed against his chest, and James rolled until he had cocooned the younger man beneath him.

"Beloved?" he murmured as he stroked the curly mane beneath him, trying to calm the younger man.

"It's not fair." The thief pounded one fist weakly against the ranger's chest. "It's just not fair."

James leaned down and tenderly licked the salty tears from his lover's face. "Shhhh, dear heart. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay."

"I can't lose you... now that I've found you," B'lair cried against his chest, his hands clenching over the ranger's back, lightly scratching the older man's skin.

"You won't lose me, B'lair. I swear I won't leave you. I swear on the Unknown One's holy name," James vowed. He gently brushed his lips over the younger man's lush mouth until the elf opened to let him in. "You're mine." He teased the roof of the thief's mouth with his tongue. "To have." He tasted the younger man's mouth. "To hold." He licked up the elf's jaw line. "To protect." He nibbled on the tip of the closest ear. "Now and until I take my last breath."

B'lair blinked up at him in surprise then tenderly cupped the ranger's face in his palms. "And you shall be mine," he vowed back. "To have," he whispered before kissing the older man's right eyebrow. "To hold." He shuddered as he brushed his lips over the ranger's forehead to his other eyebrow. "To protect." He kissed each eyelid. "Now and until I take my last breath." And with the vow complete, he gently kissed the mouth above him as if it were his only lifeline. Wrapping his legs around the ranger, he panted, "Take me. Take everything you need."

James groaned as he moved slowly down the elf's body, preparing him, filling him so deeply that B'lair could never believe himself to be alone again.

B'lair bent over to pick his shirt off the floor, his eyes never leaving the sleeping form of the ranger. He shrugged into the garment, momentarily enjoying the soreness of the places where he had been marked by his lover.

The elf's gaze slid over the head cloth lying on the floor. He would have no more need of it. There would be no more hiding who he was.

He moved quietly to the door, making no more noise than a butterfly over a flower in spring. The last amulet had been placed around his lover's neck as he slept, ensuring his safety during the upcoming battle.

"I will love you until I take my last breath." He moved his lips silently, not wanting to chance waking the ranger. Burning the image of the sleeping man into his memory, he slipped out of the room as silently as he had entered hours earlier -- ready, at last, to face his destiny.

James woke as the door clicked shut. He blinked his way back through the layers of sleep, smiling at the memory of holding his sated lover in his arms. He sighed happily as he moved to gather up the young man, but woke abruptly when he found the bed empty and cool.

He quickly scanned the room, but found no sign of the elf except for the swatch of cloth lying in the middle of the floor.

A chill ran through him as memories rolled over him.

//But I have spirits to calm. If the situation comes down to following the group or fulfilling my destiny, I will choose the latter. Never doubt it.//

//The universe has an ironic sense of timing.//

//I can't lose you ... now that I found you.//

And suddenly he knew. B'lair had left to face his destiny -- alone.

Swearing, James jumped from the bed, throwing his sword onto the mattress as he gathered his clothes. Whatever the elf's future held, he would not face it alone -- not after James had finally found the other half of his soul. He would protect what was his. Damn the costs or the consequences.

B'lair slipped silently down the vaulted hallways which led to Brackett's private chamber, ducking behind suits of armor and hanging tapestries whenever anyone ventured too close. The thief within him was surprised not to find trolls patrolling the hallways. But after seeing the denizens of the village surrounding the castle, he knew anyone who might have had the courage to slip in and slit their conqueror's throat had long since died trying.

Adjusting the small crossbow attached to his wrist, he slipped into the unlit and empty throne room, intent on reaching the antechamber on the far side and reconnoitering the area before he entered the king's personal rooms.

"So ... the last heir returns to claim his birthright." A clear baritone voice echoed around the elf, stopping him as he reached the center of the room.

"No," B'lair answered simply, understanding that the hunter had just become the prey.

"No?" The voice sounded amused.

"The last heir returns to kill the man responsible for the death of his family and his people."

"So you have no interest in ruling?" The voice seemed to be circling him, but the elf knew it was just the acoustics of the room and continued to face forward, refusing to be distracted.

"I never wanted to rule. As the youngest son of the youngest son, I would never have been in a position to rule. I never wanted anything more than to find a place in my village and to study."

"Come now, are you telling me that the thought of ruling has never crossed your mind?"

"It has never crossed my mind."

"Well, let's have a better look at such a noble man."

B'lair raised his arm to shield his eyes as the torches in the room flashed magically to life.

"Gods, you're the spitting image of your father," Brackett said conversationally as he leaned forward on his throne. "Gelion was probably the most beautiful man I'd ever seen; although I must say, he would look merely pretty standing beside you. You know, it honestly pained me to end his life, but The People would never have surrendered if they believed an heir still survived. Ahh, I see the anger on your face, young one, but before you consider raising that crossbow of yours, look around you."

Damning himself as six types of fool, B'lair barely moved his head, but took in the trolls interspersed along the walls, crossbows in hand, all pointing toward him.

Brackett chuckled as he stood and circled behind his throne, resting his chin on the back of the ornate chair. "You have nothing to say?"

B'lair remained silent, his eyes never leaving the human responsible for the death of everyone he held dear.

"No, I suppose not. Elves are a rather stoic lot. It took my best troll two hours to break your grandfather. No matter what we did to the man, he simply wouldn't make a sound. It wasn't until I gave your grandmother and your sisters to my best warriors that he finally spoke. And then," Brackett chuckled, "then I couldn't get him to shut up. Well, not until I had his throat slit, that is."

B'lair trembled in rage, his whole body shaking with the effort to control his raw emotions, knowing the human was trying to taunt him into a mistake.

The door creaked open behind the elf, but he refused to turn, refused to take his eyes off his intended target.

"What's going on here, Leigh?" James' voice echoed around the throne room; but B'lair still refused to turn, even to face his lover.

"Why, I should be quite vexed with you, James," Leigh Brackett said as he straightened behind the throne. "Bringing a killer into my midst is not King Simon's standard procedure for opening trade negotiations, is it?"

B'lair could hear Rafael's gargle of protest and Taggart softly swearing under his breath, and closed his eyes briefly, praying the amulets hanging from their necks would be enough to protect them from whatever magic Brackett was about to unleash upon them.

"I can assure you we have brought no killers into your midst," James said quietly, obviously struggling to find the right words to defuse the potentially volatile situation in which his team now found themselves.

Leigh Brackett grinned maliciously. "Then how do you explain this armed man creeping into my throne room? Is this how Simon gives his greetings?"

"There's obviously been a misunderstanding. May I have a moment with my man to ascertain what his intentions are?" the ranger asked as diplomatically as he could.

"By all means. This should be highly entertaining," the human said with a magnanimous sweep of his arm as he circled his throne and sat.

"B'lair," James called quietly to the frozen man, who was the center of everyone's attention, but the elf did not move. "B'lair, come here. Please."

Never taking his eyes off the grinning human face in front of him, the thief whispered, "Go home, James."

"B'lair." The ranger took a step forward, but several trolls around him also took a step forward to discourage any more movement on his part.

"He killed them, James. He killed my father. My mother died in his arms. He is responsible for the death of my village, of Rainier. I shall not leave here until he is dead by my hand."

"Hmmmm. We do seem to have a bit of a quandary on our hands, don't we?" Brackett leaned back in his throne, crossed his legs and stared at his opponent. "I would certainly say that sounds as if he intends to do me harm. The question now becomes, did he come here with Simon's knowledge?"

"Simon knows nothing of my plans," B'lair shouted, drawing Brackett's gaze back to him. "These men were nothing more than a means to get into this castle." B'lair's heart shattered as he told the lie, knowing he was destroying his friends' trust in him, but needing to protect them from the human's wrath.

"Is that true?" Brackett asked, examining his fingernails as if bored.

"Yes." The answer seemed torn from James' throat. "Simon knows nothing of this."

"Well, that's a relief," Leigh Brackett said as he slapped his hands against his thighs. "I'd hate to think I would have to declare war on the very nation with whom I was trying to open trade relations. That just seems so ... gauche. I guess the question now becomes, what are we to do with this young man? It's obvious he believes what he's saying, even if he is mistaken."

B'lair sneered. "Are you saying you didn't have everyone in Rainier massacred?"

"Well, not everyone. For instance, I didn't kill this old man." Brackett loudly clapped his hands together.

A door to the left of the throne opened and a troll shoved an elderly man in tattered clothing into the room. The man stumbled then fell to the floor. "Majesty," he whispered as he raised his upper body off the floor and looked at B'lair.

"Ephel," the younger elf whispered in horror. "You told me you could not leave the village."

"I am sorry, child. I didn't think I could. But I have been cursed with the mark of Witness and as Malinalda decreed, I must see this saga through to the end. When you left, the spell must have broken because the trolls came into the village and dragged me here."

B'lair's voice choked with grief and rage as he turned back to face Brackett, "If you harm him --"

"I have no intention of harming the old man," Brackett said, cutting off the elf's protest. "I'm merely pointing out the errors of your beliefs. Did I conquer Rainier? Yes. The history of the world is one where the strong rule the weak. Haidair had grown weak, complacent, and it was time for a new ruler. I was a man with a vision and I sought to make it real."

"You murdered everyone who stood in your way," B'lair shouted angrily.

"No. I eliminated those who would not bow to change."

The elf's voice was raw with emotion. "Are you saying you gave those in Rainier a chance to change?"

"Someone had to be made an example. Unfortunately, for you, Rainier was chosen. I couldn't very well kill everyone in Spokan or one of the larger villages. Rainier was small, isolated, but tied effectively to the capitol. It was a perfect choice."

"You killed -- you murdered my family as an example?" B'lair lowered his chin to his heaving chest, trying desperately to find his control.

"Well, not all of them," Brackett said casually.

The elf's head shot up. "What do you mean, not all of them?"

"You don't think the people of Spokan would let me rule if I killed every descendant to the throne, do you? It's tedious, but I have someone from the royal family who publicly backs my plans for growth and industry."

B'lair closed his eyes, determined not to ask, knowing he would only be playing into Brackett's hands, knowing James could understand this human's philosophy of war; but a part of him had to know who would sell out their people for their own life. "Who?"

"I believe you know him. While he wasn't a member of the direct blood line, your parents took him in and made him one of their own," Brackett said smiling, like a cat playing with a frightened mouse.

"No," B'lair whispered.

A door to the right of the throne opened and a troll gently guided a fragile looking elf into the room.

B'lair's wail echoed around the room, growing in pitch and agony, as his gaze fell upon his brother walking toward the human on the dais.

"I believe you know Skylanthalus Greyson," Brackett smiled triumphantly as he watched his opponent fall to his knees, holding his chest as if it would explode.

"No. No. NO. NO. NO. NO. no no no no nonononononononono," the thief whimpered hoarsely, trying to look away, but not being able to draw his gaze away from his brother. "You died. I saw you die. I felt you die," he moaned, rocking back and forth.

James started forward, not caring what his fate would be, but stopped as the healer grabbed his arm. "No, James."

"I can't --" The ranger started forward, but stopped again as the halfling's fingers dug into his muscles.

"Listen to the boy, James. Does he have a heartbeat?"

The ranger looked at the healer as if he had lost his mind, but turned his attention back to the young blond man standing beside the throne and found he didn't have one.

"How..."

"A necromancer can animate the dead using another spirit or demon to inhabit the body," Rafe explained quickly, knowing they would have to act soon. "While the soul is gone, the body may still retain some memories of its life, memories a demon could use to confound."

Joel's hand moved slowly to his sword hilt. "We have to get him out of here."

"It may already be too late," Rafael whispered. "B'lair's mind may be shattered beyond repair."

"No," the ranger said, his voice rough, shaking his head in denial. "I can't... I won't believe that."

Rafe whispered urgently, "Only you can reach him now, James. Only you have a hold strong enough on his heart to combat Brackett and that...that... thing and bring him back from the brink."

The ranger nodded, his entire attention focused on the young man in the middle of the room. "Be prepared."

"Say the word, boss," Joel said quietly as he stepped closer to the healer. "I hope you've been studying up on your spells, kid."

Rafael gulped. "I've always wanted to go out in a blaze of glory."

"Just make sure the blaze is hot enough to take us all to hell," James said, stepping toward the elf.

James managed to take two steps toward his lover before he was stopped. "B'lair," he called out to the young man on the floor. "B'lair, I need you to come to me."

It wasn't apparent if the figure gasping for breath heard him or not.

Brackett nudged the young elf beside him.

"Beloved," the young elf said in a sad, but understanding voice. "I know this must be a shock. Come to me. Let me explain what happened."

B'lair stopped his rocking and raised his tear stained face toward his brother.

"B'lair. Dear heart. It's a trick. Skylanthalus died thirty-five years ago. You saw the arrow protruding from his chest. His last words..." James started, but was cut off by the elf by the throne.

"Were to tell you that I loved you. Do you remember? I wanted you safe. I told you to run. What did you tell me?"

The thief sniffed. "Never."

"Braver words I have never heard," Skylanthalus said quietly as he sat on the edge of the dais.

"H-h-how?" B'lair asked.

"How did I survive?" the younger elf asked gently.

"Yes."

"I don't remember. Honestly."

"He doesn't remember because Skylanthalus died in front of you that day. This man, this monster, reanimated his body, but Sky is gone, beloved. He left his body quickly so you would run, so you would have a chance at survival," James countered in a strong voice. "Skylanthalus' whole life was dedicated to protecting you. Why wouldn't he have sought you out after he recovered?

The child-like elf by the throne turned to look at the human king, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

"I did try to find you, B'lair. You must believe me. I looked everywhere for you."

For the first time, the elf turned his head and looked over his shoulder to face the ranger, his eyes clouded with grief. James squatted and held out his arms. "Come to me, beloved."

"He's human, runt. His heart may be in the right place, but you were meant to be with me. Remember, you were going to be the brains and I was going to be the brawn," Skylanthalus countered.

"Skylanthalus knew where you were supposed to go, didn't he, beloved?" James asked, suddenly understanding the confused look on the thief's face.

"Yes," came the barely audible reply.

"Look at him, B'lair. Look at Skylanthalus." B'lair slowly turned his head to look at his brother. James continued, going for the heart of the matter. "He hasn't aged a day since he died, has he? I know elves age slower than humans, but surely he would have aged as much as you have, wouldn't he?"

"Beloved," Skylanthalus whispered softly, holding his hands out toward the thief.

"Even if this really was Skylanthalus, we made vows last night, B'lair," James reminded the elf quietly.

"Vows he would not have made if he knew I was alive," the young elf shouted.

"Is that true, B'lair?" the ranger asked quietly. "While Sky raised you, taught you and protected you, wasn't he willing to let you grow, to find your own love?"

"Arienna," B'lair whispered, looking back at the younger elf, who only looked confused. "You told me Arienna had worked for over a month on her dress for my Ascension. You helped me find her in the crowd of dancers."

"That was a long time ago, dear heart," the blond elf countered.

B'lair twisted back to face the ranger.

James poured his heart and soul into the next words. "I love you, B'lair Woodfoxen. Body, mind and spirit."

"But I left you."

"You always told me you would if our paths ever diverged. But remember, I also promised you'd never be alone again."

"Never be alone again," the dark haired elf repeated. Looking up at the ranger, his eyes searching for the truth, B'lair asked, "You can still love me?"

"Now and until I take my last breath."

"Now and until I take my last breath," the last heir repeated.

"Come to me, beloved. Make me whole again."

"Whole again," B'lair whispered as he turned his body, and began to push himself off the floor.

"Well." Brackett slapped his hands against his thighs and said in an almost conversational tone, "That does it then. Kill them all."

"Now, Rafael," James shouted as he threw his body over his lover moments before the building shook, knocking the trolls to the floor.

"Stay put," the ranger whispered, putting his hand in the middle of the elf's back, jumping to his feet, pulling his broadsword from the sheath on his back and racing toward the dais. Trolls scrambled to protect their leader and the clash of swords rang through the air.

Joel bellowed a war cry and ran forward, replacing the ranger, straddling B'lair's prone body. Rafael moved forward at the same time. Placing his back against Joel's, he turned to the closest troll, raised his hands, closed his eyes and whispered, "Sleep."

"I'm very disappointed in you, James Ellison." Brackett shook his head and watched the ranger slip beneath a sword swing and plunge his own weapon into the closest troll's stomach. "I really had hoped we could open up trade relations, but I see that's not meant to be. Maybe Kincaid would be interested."

James' only reply was a snarl as he carved his way closer to Brackett, intent on his target. Rafe and Joel held their own against the onslaught, trolls falling at their feet, covering the floor.

"Well, enough is enough. Young Sky, behind the throne please. Thank you." Brackett pushed his sleeves to his elbows, closed his eyes, raised a clench fist, and began chanting; his voice growing in pitch and volume as he did so.

James killed another troll then turned to face the human ruler at the same time Brackett opened his eyes and unclenched his fist. Everyone in the room, trolls and humans alike, were flung like rag dolls to the back of the room. The sound of bones breaking and last breaths filled the air, then silence.

"Never send a troll to do a man's work," Brackett said, slapping his hands together. He turned when he heard a low moan near the dais. "Are you still alive, old friend?" he asked of Ephel, who was pushing himself up into a sitting position. "Just what in the world is it going to take to kill you?"

Ephel began to chuckle. "You can't kill me, Brackett, for I have been marked as Witness. I am beyond your powers; for my task is to see the story completed."

"Ahh, and therein lies your mistake, old one. You, I, and the boy are the only things living in this room. Your precious last heir is dead. There is no tale to tell; therefore, you are expendable."

"And that is where you are mistaken *hu*man." Ephel gestured toward the center of the room.

B'lair coughed and pushed himself to his feet, using the body of the troll which had fallen before him for support. He stood, pale and trembling, as he gazed at the bodies around him. The silence of the room echoed the void of his heart. His gaze snapped to the human on the dais then over to his old friend. "Bear Witness, old friend, for your task is not yet finished."

B'lair advanced on the throne, his eyes clear and bright.

"Ahh, the heir who would not die," Brackett laughed nervously as he pulled a satin rope beside the throne. The doors around the throne room immediately opened and trolls poured into the room, swords drawn. "But, alas, I believe your time has come to an end."

B'lair graced Brackett with a beatific smile. "Bring them on. Bring them all on." He stepped closer to the human interloper. "A blood oath was decreed upon all those who had caused Rainier's destruction."

"Ahh, but as you said, you have no wish to rule." Brackett said, immediately pointing out the flaw in the young man's logic.

"I changed my mind," B'lair smiled ferally, taking a step onto the dais. "Malinalda! Hathol! Arienna! Mother! I have come seeking that which was taken from us. I need your strength. The time for vengeance is at hand," he shouted to the air around him, then taking another step forward he thrust his knife deep into Brackett's chest.

"Kill him!" the human king gargled. The trolls started forward as one, but the room exploded with torrents of air which surrounded each troll, voices whispered and shadows reached out to taunt the minds which had destroyed them. Weapons clattered to the floor as the huge creatures grabbed their ears, blood running from every open orifice.

B'lair watched the human's eyes dull as he let the body fall slack and roll down the steps of the dais. He looked over to Ephel, whose face shining in hope quickly turned to horror.

B'lair turned in time to watch Skylanthalus plunge a knife into his chest.

"No," he gasped as he shoved his brother off the dais, then collapsed against the throne.

Ephel scrambled forward, kneeling beside the fallen heir as his hands tried to cover the wound.

"Majesty... no, no, don't go..."

B'lair ignored the quiet plea, ignored the pain as he looked over the silent room. With fading eyesight, he sought out the one body he wanted to see, hoping for a last glimpse. He had failed. James was dead. Rafael and Joel were dead. B'lair closed his eyes, and welcomed his pain before sinking down into oblivion.

"James. You must wake up. James."

The ranger moaned trying to focus on the voice which filtered down through the levels of darkness.

"There's not much time, James. You must save him before it is too late."

James blinked awake, focusing on the grief-stricken face of Rainier's woodcutter. "Wha..."

"B'lair's dying."

The ranger sat up, moaning as he did so, taking in his surroundings. The bodies of trolls lay strewn about the throne room as if a child had had a tantrum and thrown all of her dolls on the floor.

James shook his head to clear it and slowly stood with the old elf's assistance. "We need Rafael."

"Go to B'lair. I will find and wake the young one."

The ranger focused on the heartbeat of his lover, and turned toward the dais when he found the erratic source. Pushing himself forward, he stumbled to the elf's prone body.

"Beloved," he whispered, collapsing next to B'lair. He cradled the elf's head in the crook of his arm as he pressed his other hand against the open wound on his lover's chest, trying to staunch the bleeding.

The thief's eyes fluttered opened. "James, you're alive," he whispered in joy.

"I told you I was a hard man to kill."

The elf smiled up at him even as his eyes closed.

"Beloved," James whispered urgently, pressing his body closer, trying to warm his lover's cooling flesh.

"Not fair... to find... only to lose you," was the barely audible reply.

James swallowed his grief and tried to speak through a throat choked with fear. "You're not... going to lose me. I will be by your side through all things."

The elf's smile slid to one side of his face. "Even death?"

"You will not leave me, B'lair Woodfoxen. Do you hear me? You will not leave me," James cried out as he pulled the elf's body tight against his chest.

"I'll.... t-t-try." But even as he spoke the words his head rolled back, leaving his eyes dull and lifeless.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. This can't be happening," James roared to the ceiling, tears running freely down his face as he clenched the beloved body closer to him. "This can't be happening."

"James. James," Rafael shouted, falling to his knees beside the pair. "Go after him. James, go after him. Anchor on me, but go after him."

The ranger clenched the healer's arm as he closed his eyes and concentrated on the fading heartbeat of his lover. He could hear Joel and Ephel falling beside them, adding their strength to the healer's to keep him grounded. Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the darkness after the fading light.

His body slowly morphed into a large black cat and he ran through the forest screaming for his mate to stop. He raced to the edge of a chasm, watching as a wolf slowly trotted off into the underbrush on the other side. The cat screamed its anger at being left behind, demanding the wolf's return.

Miraculously, the wolf stopped and turned its blue gaze upon the cat. Hesitantly, it returned to the edge of the chasm, whining as it looked over the edge. The cat mewled, raising its paw toward its mate, encouraging it to return. Behind it, a small raccoon, a bear and an owl also called for its return.

The wolf looked back and forth between the underbrush and the cat on the other side, indecision clearly written in its stance. The cat purred loudly, trying to convey thoughts of comfort and warmth.

The wolf slowly moved toward the underbrush and the cat screamed its defiance and prepared to leap the chasm, to the dismay of those behind it, but stopped as it noticed the wolf turning, gauging the distance between them. The cat backed up several steps, and as if by some unspoken cue both animals raced toward the edge of the chasm and jumped, merging into one as they met in the center.

B'lair's body arched off the ranger's lap, gasping, hands flailing. James' eyes flew open at the gasp, his hands catching those of his lover's, bringing them to his chest.

"Even in death," James vowed. Looking into the elf's eyes, he leaned back slightly, letting the healer move forward to do his job, but never releasing his grip.

The thief's smile, though weak, was brilliant with love for the ranger as he was gently lowered back to the floor.

"I still don't understand what they are," Joel grumbled, looking at the stringed jewels lying on the small table beside the bed James had slept in only hours before.

"They're amulets, wards of protection," Rafael explained patiently as he touched the sleeping thief's forehead with the back of his hand.

"And B'lair put them on us?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Joel asked, still confused.

"To protect you," Ephel said quietly from the other side of the bed. "He told me they were his legacy from Malinalda. He believed they would keep you safe during a magical attack."

"Well, he believed correctly," the healer said quietly. "We would have ended up like those smashed trolls if he hadn't put them on us."

"I still can't believe Brackett killed his own people."

"He was quite mad," Ephel said in reflection.

"But when did Woodfoxen have time to put them on us and why didn't we see them?" Joel demanded irritably.

"You didn't see them because they were magic," Ephel said with a smile that said the warrior should have been able to figure that part out by himself.

"And we didn't see him put them on us because he's good," James said from the doorway.

"So are all the trolls, indeed, dead?" Ephel asked quietly.

"There isn't a live troll anywhere in the vicinity of Spokan," the ranger said as he closed the distance. Rafael got up from the bed, letting James have his position. "From the reports I've received, the same thing happened out in the city as happened in the throne room. They appeared to be surrounded by talking winds, went insane, then dropped dead, bleeding from their ears, noses and mouths."

"Not a pleasant way to go," Rafe said quietly.

Ephel shrugged. "They sowed what they reaped."

"Any sign of Skylanthalus' body?" Joel asked.

"No. All traces of the boy are gone," the ranger replied, turning back to the sleeping elf. "Has he shown any sign of waking?"

"No, but do not be concerned, James. He is simply healing. When he is ready, he will awaken."

"In the meantime, I suggest we all get our rest," the ranger said, giving Rafe a significant look.

"But I want to be here when he wakes up to make sure everything is all right," the healer protested. "I owe him so much."

"I'll send for you if he needs assistance. For now, both you and Joel need your rest. I suspect that the next couple of days are going to be hectic. Ephel, there are people who are going to want answers and I suspect you're the only one who knows most of them."

"Aye, I'll do what I can until he awakes," the old woodcutter said as he stood and walked around the bed. Gently taking the warrior's and healer's arms in each of his own, he steered them out of the room. "I think they need some time alone," he whispered conspiratorially.

James stood and walked to the other side of the bed, laying his sword within reach. He stripped and climbed into the bed and spooned himself around the sleeping elf. "Take all the time you need, beloved. I will keep the watch until you are ready to return to me."

B'lair awoke, feeling safe and warm. He tried to stretch but found himself in a secure hold. He blinked as he looked down at the arm holding him. "James," he whispered.

The ranger was instantly awake and leaning over his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Alive," was the quiet response. He rolled onto his back and stared up into the face of the man he loved. "You... you came after me."

"I will always come for you, beloved. Always."

"Sky --"

"It wasn't Skylanthalus, dear heart. He died thirty-five years ago. Brackett kept his body animated to ensure his control over the People."

"He... he stabbed me."

"No, B'lair. The thing that lived within his body stabbed you. Sky would have rather cut off his arm rather than hurt you. I know the image will be hard to block, but it wasn't Sky," James crooned softly as he slowly gathered the elf into his arms. "It wasn't your brother."

The elf laid his head upon James' chest, over his lover's heart, reveling in the ranger's warmth. He could definitely get used to a future of waking in this man's arms. B'lair reached up to cup his lover's cheek with his palm. "I can't believe you came after me."

"How could I not? I love you. After looking for you my whole life, you didn't think I'd let a little thing like death come between us, did you?" James smiling tenderly down at the young man.

"I love you," the elf said quietly, placing his hand over the ranger's heart. "Now and until I take my last breath."

"Now and until I take my last breath," the ranger whispered, sealing the vow with a kiss.

"I don't think I can do this," B'lair said, his chest heaving in anxiety as he paced back and forth in the small antechamber. "What am I going to say to them?"

James stood in the elf's path and wrapped his arms around the younger man, tucking the smaller man's head under his chin. "You'll do fine, dear heart. They just want to meet you."

"I'm not a king."

"Yes, you are, beloved."

"I'm a thief."

"You're a king with procuring skills." James grinned as the elf snorted in amusement against his chest.

"I wonder what they'll think about that." B'lair sighed, enjoying the sense of protection he felt within his lover's arms. "I can't believe they want me to be king."

James clasped him tighter. "You're the last of the royal family, beloved. While your past may be... colorful, you are the only one with any legitimacy. If not you, then who?"

B'lair looked up. "Duty. Honor. Responsibility. They expect that from a thief?"

"What say we find out?" James chuckled, but stopped as firm hands clutched in his jerkin. Gently taking the elf's chin, he raised the beloved face until they were looking at each other. "You can do this." He leaned down and gently brushed his lips over the elf's.

B'lair returned the soft kiss. Releasing his hold on the ranger, he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to calm his ragged nerves. "All right, let's do this."

The ranger nodded and reached for the door knob, but stopped when the elf asked anxiously, "You will come with me?"

James cupped the younger man's cheek gently in the palm of his hand and nodded, then opened the door to B'lair's future.

"King B'lair has a nice ring to it," Rafe teased from the edge of James' bed as he watched his friend pace back and forth.

The elf rolled his eyes, but didn't stop his pacing.

"This whole mission has been like a children's fantasy, although I don't think I ever realized before just how violent children's fantasies were." The halfling watched the elf quietly for several minutes, trying to compare the calm young man who had competently answered all questions put to him by the town elders earlier in the day to this anxiety ridden man pacing a groove into the flagstones. Rafe frowned, puzzled. "What exactly did you think would happen once you had calmed your spirits, B'lair?"

The elf stopped his pacing and stared out the window beside James' bed for several minutes. "I... I never expected to... survive."

"In all the times you thought about your confrontation with Leigh Brackett, you never thought about what might happen if you won?"

"I... thought... maybe... I'd join Sky."

Rafael blinked several times, shocked by the admission and unsure of what to say next. "And now?"

"I don't know."

"You're not --"

"No, of course not," was the quiet reply before the elf turned and surveyed the city through the large window. "Rafael?" B'lair asked barely above a whisper, not turning from his view.

"Yes."

"Do you think I'll make a good king?"

The healer closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around the thief's waist from the back and resting his chin on his shoulder. "I think you're going to make an excellent king because you care. You weren't raised above the people, you know what life is like on the streets. You'll listen to the people and their concerns and try to do the right thing."

"How can you sound so confident?"

"Because I know you."

"You don't --"

"Hush now," the healer said quietly. "I know the man who saved a complete stranger, injuring himself in process. I know the man, who although he had a terrible secret, saved the men who were following him. I know the man who walked into the bowels of hell and not only saved his friends physically, but emotionally as well."

"I did have help on that last one." The elf chuckled self-depreciatingly.

"Don't," Rafael said quietly as he physically turned the elf to face him. "You keep trying to hide behind this facade that says you don't care but you care more than anyone I've ever met before, B'lair Woodfoxen. Skylanthalus raised you to care. It's who you are. And I, for one, think you're going to make an excellent king."

The elf blinked at him with owlish eyes.

"I just wish I was going to be here to help while you find your feet."

B'lair shook his head as if trying to clear his vision. "Where are you going?"

"We have to go back and report to Simon. I'm sure he'll still want trade negotiations to take place, but we really need to apprise him of what has happened here."

The elf dropped hard onto the window ledge, his legs no longer able to support his weight. "When do you go back?"

"Probably not until after your coronation, so about two days from now." The healer looked at him in concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, of course. I'm just... I'm very tired, Rafe. I don't want to run you off, but --"

"No. No. Please get some sleep. You're still recovering from your wound. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have worn you out," the halfling said quickly, but not before he pressed the back of his hand against the elf's forehead.

B'lair allowed himself to be fussed over and guided to the bed on the healer's way out of the room.

"I'll come back in an hour or so to check how you're doing. All right?"

The elf nodded and watched the healer leave.

Two days.

Two days and James never said a word. Of course, he was leaving. He served Simon. And to the ranger, honor and duty were everything. B'lair closed his eyes against the tears.

//I will be by your side through all things.//

Through vengeance. Through death. But apparently not through life.

"I don't want my heart back, Sky," he whispered brokenheartedly as he curled into a small ball on the bed. "It hurts too much."

James Ellison sniffed the mid-morning air, and smiled as he walked through the woods which surrounded Spokan. He moved slowly around the base of an ancient oak and found the heir apparent lost in a book. A large wolf, with black ears and white paws, rested its chin on the elf's lap, its eyes closed in contentment as the young man scratched between its ears.

"Is that your JaJaNa?"

B'lair reluctantly looked up from his book, big blue eyes blinking up at his visitor. "Hmmm?"

"Is that the wolf from the village?"

"Yes. He apparently followed the trolls here after they captured Ephel."

"How did you know he was here?" the ranger asked as he eased himself down beside the elf.

"I heard him singing to the moon last night."

James reached over and scratched the wolf's muzzle. "You know the world's looking for you."

Tears stung his eyes and he turned briefly to look further into the woods. 'Damn it, Sky, I don't want any more signs.' "I know," he said finally. "I just... that is to say..."

"You needed some time away from the hub-bub?"

"Something like that," he swallowed hard as he closed the book and laid it beside him.

They sat for several minutes in silence, simply leaning against each other and enjoying their shared warmth.

Finally, B'lair asked quietly, "When were you going to tell me?"

There was a long pause. "Tonight. After the coronation."

"Afraid I might not go through with it if I knew you were leaving?"

"No. I just didn't want to take away from your day."

The elf scrubbed his face with the palms of his hands, making him look incredibly young. "My day. What a laugh."

"Skylanthalus would be very proud," James said softly.

"Sky was supposed to be my general. We had a deal. I was going to be the brains of our operation and he was going to be the brawn." B'lair sniffed, then looked up into the ranger's face. "I was sort of hoping you wouldn't mind taking his place. I think wherever his soul resides, he would approve."

James inhaled quickly and looked up at the canopy above their heads, willing the tears not to fall. His chest heaved with the effort to control his emotions.

"It's all right, James," the elf said as he gently pushed the wolf off his lap and turned to face the ranger, tenderly laying his hand over the human's heart. "I knew... I knew it wouldn't last forever." The ranger gasped out in pain, his jaw clenching and unclenching. "Ephel, told me before we left Rainier that I should take a chance and allow myself to feel your love, no matter how long or short our time together might be." B'lair stopped for a moment, trying to reign in his own emotions. "I understand now what he was trying to tell me. I just want you to know that I love you, James Ellison. I will always love you, and I thank the Unknown One for the day he crossed our paths."

James cried out as he gathered the elf into his arms and held him tight. "I've wrestled with this for days. I have my duty, my responsibility, and yet..." He buried his face in B'lair's curls, and drew in a deep breath. "I tell you to accept your obligations and yet deep in my heart I cry out at the thought of accepting my own."

B'lair reached out and drew James' head down until he gazed into the wounded blue eyes. Leaning in, hovering over the lips pressed together in pain, he whispered, "Love me."

"I already do." The ranger's breath hitched before he devoured the elf's mouth, gently moving the younger man beneath him; losing himself in the blue eyes which shone with love until a gentle hand on his cheek brought him back. James moved with an aching slowness as he moved down B'lair's body, preparing him and filling him completely. They moved as one, content in their connection, neither rushing towards completion, simply committing every feature of the other to memory to last them through the long lonely nights ahead of them. When they finally gave themselves over to their release, they held each other for a very long time before heading back to the castle and their separate destinies.

Joel watched with almost a fatherly pride as the newly anointed king slowly rose to his feet and turned to face the crowd.

"This is not an office I sought," the young man said quietly. "As the youngest son of the youngest son, I was content in my village. However, in memory of my grandfather, Haidair, and my father, Gelion, and my brother, Skylanthalus, who died protecting me, I accept this mantle. As a people throwing down their yokes of repression, we will share our knowledge as knowledge is shared with us. We shall catch those who stumble as we will be caught. We shall live in harmony with nature, seeking to help when and where we can. We shall rebuild our lives."

The crowd roared with approval.

"Ranger Ellison, please tell your king we welcome the opportunity to open trade negotiations with his people and we look forward to your return to hammer out the details," the king said flawlessly.

The ranger moved to the dais, flanked by the dark warrior and the healer, all three bowing formally. "We look forward to our return, Sire. We shall endeavor to return by the next full moon." With that, they turned and walked back through the crowd.

As they reached the doors, the ranger stopped as he heard a soft whisper over the excited murmurings of the crowd. "Hurry back to me, beloved."

James turned, his gaze caught by the sad blue eyes, and nodded before leaving.

"How are the troops coming along, Melthius?" B'lair asked his newest commander quietly from his desk, not looking up from the papers he was reviewing.

"Amazingly well, your Majesty."

"But --"

The commander shifted from foot to foot before catching himself and standing at attention. "But, I'm not sure we could withstand an all-out assault at the moment."

B'lair looked up, rubbing the heel of his hand against his forehead. "I appreciate your honesty, commander, but we cannot expect crack units three weeks after the formation of our army. You're doing a good job. When Ranger Ellison returns I will ask him to give you some pointers in defending the city walls."

"All suggestions will be gladly received, Majesty."

"Thank you, Melthius. That will be all for now." B'lair went back to reading his papers, overwhelmed by the details of running a small kingdom.

An hour later, a small knock at his door interrupted his thoughts. "Enter."

"Majesty," his aide tsked disapprovingly. "It is after midnight."

"Thank you, Jochiam," he said in a voice heavy with sarcasm.

The aide ignored him as he came further into the room. "A missive just arrived from Cascadia. I thought you would want to see it as soon as possible."

B'lair's hands trembled as he accepted the envelope.

"Will there be anything else, Majesty?"

"Jochiam, when it is only the two of us, couldn't you call me B'lair?"

"Maybe," the smaller man smiled, "in time. But you have been B'lair for a long time, you need to get used to being a Majesty."

The king closed his eyes, trying not to sigh in frustration, already tired of the conversation he had had once too often in the last few weeks. "Very well, Jochiam." His attention was drawn back to the envelope. He quickly slit the seal and read over the very formal writing, informing him that King Simon was anxious to negotiate a trade agreement with him but it would be yet another three weeks before he could send an emissary. B'lair closed his eyes as the wash of pain flowed through him.

"Majesty?"

The king's eyes snapped open, a determined look growing on his face. "In the morning, tell Lenardo that I will meet him in Cascadia six days hence. As Minister of Trade he is going to have the opportunity to test his skills. Tell Melthius I wish a full squad to accompany him on his journey."

"You sound as if you will not be accompanying Lenardo on his journey."

"I won't be."

"Sire?"

"I leave tonight."

"Then I shall inform your guards."

"You will do nothing of the sort."

"But where are you going? What will you be doing?"

The king turned and brought his full gaze upon his aide. "You have your orders, Jochiam. I will meet Lenardo in six days in Cascadia."

Simon Banks, ruler of Cascadia, leaned back in his very plush chair and sighed deeply, glaring at the sea of scrolls and documents covering his desk. It never got any easier, not even after twenty years of ruling.

"The minutia is a bit overwhelming, isn't it?" a warm voice asked from the shadows.

Simon started, pushing back from his desk as he looked toward his balcony. Then relaxing, he growled, "I thought James corrected that little problem."

"He did."

"Do I even want to know --"

A shadow detached itself from the darkness on the far side of the room and stepped closer. "Probably not."

"I guess it's a handy skill to have." Simon grinned. "Although you're going to have to learn how to play the intrigue game; if for no other reason than to drive Kincaid insane."

"Duly noted."

"By coming in this way, you missed all the pomp and circumstance."

"Well, if it's any consolation, my Minister of Trade and a squad of my newly formed guards will be arriving tomorrow morning. I'm sure Lenardo will be very impressed with any ceremony you wish to put on for his benefit." The elf pulled back his hood and sat down in a chair directly across the desk from the human king. "I'm just afraid that after a while he might start expecting it."

"I like you, Woodfoxen." Simon smiled at the younger man. "I hope we can be great allies."

"I hope so too. I truly do."

"So what brings you through my backdoor at this hour of night?"

"I'm here to collect my boon."

James Ellison paced back and forth in the small antechamber like a large cat in a small cage. When his team had arrived in Cascadia earlier that morning from their latest mission, rumors were sweeping through the streets like a windstorm across the desert. A small elven contingency, hoping to open trade negotiations with King Simon, had arrived from a kingdom long since forgotten two days ago. It was said their ruler had personally come to talk with Simon, although no one had actually seen the man.

James had been summoned to Simon's personal office, but had been kept waiting in the antechamber for several hours. The tension rolling off him took on an almost physical manifestation. Simon's aides, frightened by his intense stare, had refused to check on his comfort for the last two hours.

Finally, a door opened and the King beckoned him into his study. "I apologize for having kept you waiting so long, James. As I'm sure you know by now, a small contingent from Spokan arrived a few days ago and we have been negotiating ever since."

"To the benefit of both kingdoms, I hope."

"That is the hope." Simon released a small tired yawn. "The elves are tough negotiators, but I think we finally reached an agreement which will serve both kingdoms equally." He moved to his desk. "However, the whole agreement hinges on one subparagraph. If I cannot deliver upon my promise, then the whole thing may be null and void. That's where you come in."

James furled his eyebrows in confusion. "Where I... how can I help?

Simon picked up several sheets of paper, although he only handed the ranger a single sheet. "Part III, Section 12, Subparagraph 3(e). By the Unknown One's name, I hate Ministers of Trade. Why can't they make things simple?" The King sighed as he flopped, very unregal-like, into his chair.

The ranger looked down at the paper in his hand and began skimming the appropriate section.

//In an effort to promote self-reliance for the kingdom of Olympia, and to aid the security of both realms, Cascadia hereby offers to the newly appointed king, two permanent advisors who will act as Cascadia's liaisons in Spokan. King Simon appoints the ranger, James Ellison, and the healer known as Rafael, to fulfill these positions. Their responsibilities... //

James' head snapped up as he sought his king's face.

"Do you accept the appointment, James?"

"What about Joel?"

"If you accept this appointment, Joel will be promoted to your current position," the king said with a smile. "Don't worry, if everything goes as planned, he will be traveling quite a bit between the two kingdoms. The elven minister argued for nearly two hours for him to be included in the paragraph, but I had to put my foot down somewhere. I'm giving up you, Rafael and some old woman, but I cannot lose my childhood friend. Being king is what I do, it isn't necessarily who I am. I need people around me from time to time who understand the difference."

James blinked, shaking his head a bit.

"Do you accept the appointment or do I need to take this agreement back to the bargaining table?" the king asked as he moved slowly around the desk.

A slow smile spread across James' face. "I accept the position of permanent advisor to Spokan."

Simon stood and wrapped his arms around the younger man. "I shall miss you, James, and that scrawny little kid you insist on taking everywhere with you."

James laughed and returned the hug.

"Well, then," the king said, leaning over the desk and signing the last page of the agreement with a flourish. "I suggest you go into the other room and meet your new boss."

The ranger's gaze snapped over to the far door.

"Go on. Go on. I'll take care of the paperwork."

Without another word, James strode across the room, opened the door and moved quickly down the small hallway. He opened the door without knocking, his eyes searching for the beloved face.

B'lair gulped nervously as he turned from the window and looked at the blue-eyed intruder. The ranger shut the door behind him, never taking his eyes off the elven king.

"James?" came the worried whisper.

A sexy smile slowly blossomed over James Ellison's face as he slowly crossed the room and gathered his soul mate into his arms. "Reporting for permanent duty, Majesty," he whispered into the pointed ear closest to him.

"Permanent, unless I declare war on Cascadia," the elf teased as he turned and brushed his lips over the human's, opening his mouth to draw the older man in.

James moaned, his hands clenching in the elven king's hair, delving deeper into the moist warmth until they both had to break for air.

"I think I can get used to taking advice from Cascadia's best," B'lair grinned, rubbing his nose against the ranger's, their breaths intermingling as one. "So, what will Rafael advise me on?"

Sounds of laughter reverberated around the castle.

"I hear he's beautiful."

"I hear he actually bargained to take Simon's best merchant with him."

"I wonder who it will be."

"It's probably Orlin. No one does silversmithing better than that man."

"I wonder if he's taking volunteers."

Natalia closed her eyes briefly against the conversations whirling around her. She sat by her cart and stared idly at the hands in her lap. Ever since her husband passed away unexpectedly five weeks before she found herself unable to enjoy the marketplace gossip. Food had lost its flavor, and she hadn't made any new cheese in a week. She wondered again for the hundredth time if she should retire. Her children were all grown and making names for themselves in various fields. She could stay home and take it easy, but the thought of rattling around the old cottage by herself depressed her. She wondered if there was such a thing as living too long.

"Fire and stars, look at that entourage."

"They're elves!"

Natalia looked up, curiosity burning through her depression. A group of elves was moving with purpose through the crowded street. People began whispering excitedly. She stood up, catching the cart for balance.

"It's the elven king!"

The cheesewoman was standing on her toes trying to get a glimpse of the man everyone had been talking about, when the entourage stopped at her cart and parted, revealing two men inside the protective circle.

"Natalia."

"B'lair?" the old woman asked, squinting to get a better look.

The young elven king stepped forward and wrapped the woman in a warm embrace. "James, you must meet the greatest cheese sorceress ever to walk the face of the planet." The young man released her from the hug, but didn't remove his arm from her hunched shoulders.

"Madam, it is my great pleasure to finally meet you. His Majesty has spoken of nothing but your wondrous wheels for the last two hours," a handsome man with bright blue eyes said as he took her hand and gently kissed her gnarled knuckles.

"The boy always did have a soft spot for my cheese," she cackled, her smile blinding those around her.

"When I first came to Cascadia I was very young and had very little money. This woman, despite having her own children to feed, refused to take my money for years, but still insisted on feeding me."

The taller man smiled at her with such tenderness she almost swooned. "For such kindness, you shall ever have my undying gratitude."

"Pshaw. He was always too skinny for my liking." She laughed and rubbed the elf's ribs. "Still is for that matter."

The elf grinned at her, but his smile slowly faded. "I heard your man passed away a short time ago."

Natalia nodded. "Bless his soul, he went in his sleep."

The elven king looked to his right, then to his left, taking in all the people who were watching the scene unfolding in front of them. With a mischievous smile, he lowered himself to one knee in the dirt before her. "Then for the final time, I ask thee, to please come away with me. I promise to let you feed me to your heart's content and in exchange you will want for nothing."

Natalia looked down into the bright blue elven eyes and noticed, despite the mischievousness, the sincerity behind the request. She looked up at the king's human companion. The man nodded his encouragement in a barely perceivable motion.

"Oh what the hell," she laughed.

B'lair leapt to his feet and twirled her around in joy as the taller man directed the guards to take care of her cart. The elf guided her to a small carriage behind the contingent of soldiers.

James gently lifted her onto the seat. "Welcome to the family, Natalia."

"You're a little too thin for my liking," she smiled as she patted his cheek. "I think I'll fatten you up too while I'm at it."

"As you wish, dear lady."

Natalia looked over at the astonished faces of her long time friends and competitors, smiled and waved. Maybe, just maybe, there wasn't such a thing as being too old after all.

B'lair walked the parapet along the top of his castle, looking down into the city below. The dull colors of only months before were gone, replaced by colors which spanned the rainbow. The silent streets were filled with laughter as people called out greetings to their friends as they bartered for last minute goods before the sun set.

Soldiers patrolled the outer city walls, ever vigilant. Melthius had been overjoyed to learn of James' permanent assignment to Spokan and cornered the ranger every chance he got to discuss strategy and defense.

Rafael was just as sought after by the cities' apothecaries, midwives and healers, not to mention a number of single women.

Natalia had taken it upon herself to take over the kitchens. While the staff had grumbled at first, they had all grown to love the tiny whirlwind.

JaJaNa had caused quite a stir when he decided that he had had enough of the solitude of the forest and made himself at home in the castle, splitting his time between the king and the old woodsmith.

Ephel had gone back to his woodworking, losing himself in projects for days at a time; surfacing at appropriate times to continue to act as witness, but more often than not, to follow the cheesewoman around with love-struck eyes.

Jochiam still insisted on calling him Majesty, but the man was too efficient to let go over something so trivial. Although B'lair had to admit, he finally understood why Simon refused to permanently assign Joel to the advisory group. He didn't know what he would do without James, Rafael and Natalia's friendship. All three were aware of his position, but couldn't seem to reconcile their memories of the lost soul with the king in their midst, and for that he was forever grateful.

"Well, Sky," he said as the first star appeared on the evening canopy. "I think you would be proud of me." He stood silent for several minutes as a warm breeze embraced him. "There are still days I miss you so badly I can scarcely take a breath. Ephel was right. My heart died the day you did, but you chose well when you picked James. There are times when I hear your voice in his, see your smile in his. He stands back, just like you did, and watches and advises, always there for me. Your death ripped my soul in half. I never thought I would recover, but James' soul melds so perfectly with mine, I don't believe the scars can be seen anymore. They will always exist, but they will fade in time." The breeze played gently with his hair. "Thank you for your blessings, brother."

And with that, the breeze faded, leaving him bereft. However, strong arms soon enfolded him from behind and a warm cheek nuzzled his.

"You finally escaped Melthius?" he asked with a small chuckle.

The hands gently rubbed long arcs up and down his chest. "You should be grateful you have a soldier as dedicated as that man."

"Oh I am, believe me, I am."

"What are you doing up here, beloved?"

"Just pondering how life works."

"Deep thoughts," the ranger hummed contentedly behind him as he languidly ground his hips forward.

"And you thought I was just another pretty face."

The ranger looked down at the streets below them. "You've done well."

"I couldn't have done it without you, wouldn't have wanted to."

"Won't ever have to. I am here, by your side, through all things."

B'lair turned in the ranger's arms, his hand resting on the human's chest over his heart. "I love you, James, now and until I take my last breath."

"And I love you, thief of my heart, now and until I take my last breath."

B'lair took a deep breath and released it slowly, realizing for the first time in a long time that he was truly happy. Taking the ranger's hand in his, he headed toward the door. "Let's go in, James. I feel the need to celebrate."

End Homecoming - Zine Version - OKD by Dolimir: [email protected]

Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: The Sentinel is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount.