"You want to hear the one about the Moonshadow Troll again? Sheesh, how about something shorter, like Goldilocks and the Three Bears?"

"I am not patronizing you. Very well, the Moonshadow Troll, but you'd best listen carefully, for I'll not be telling it again soon. . ."

It began on the streets of Paris. I was touring with Madame Béjart's dance troop, performing Le Sacre du Printemps at the Paris Opera House, all to be close to a certain dancer by the name of Moira Flannagan. Ah, Moira had the form and grace of a gazelle, eyes that could melt a heart of stone, and lips that could ignite the flames of passion in a codger. (OK, so I was over a hundred at the time. I was speaking in human terms. Yes, I know you aren't human. Never mind, we'll never get to sleep at this rate.) Anyway, the night in question, I had finally, delicately, breached the subject of dinner with my young countrywoman. I was walking back to the small flat I was renting, enjoying the cool, night air and singing a light aria, when I heard the pitter-patter of not-so-tiny feet trying to seem like tiny little feet, that is to say, sneaking up on me, on the damp cobblestone. Naturally, I was in a hurry to get ready for my dinner engagement, and had chosen the shortest route from the Opera House, where the curtain had just closed, to my apartment. Namely, through some dark, narrow alleys.

Now, if I had any sense, I'd have run out the other end of the alley, and probably left my pursuers in the dust. Of course, I've never been known for my great sense, and I was a little curious as to who this could be. Turning, I could see three figures coming down the alley. They paused when I faced them, apparently surprised that I'd caught on to their little game of hide-n-seek. The light was poor, and all I could make out under the dim yellow bulbs burning in a couple of doorways was that one was very tall and very thin, and the other two were quite short and squat. Judging from their builds, the two of them could be tough customers. I stroked Gwythnir, and she hummed with the potentialities of a dozen racked spells. No problem. After a minute, the trio worked up their nerve and came forward.

When they came within ten feet, I could make them out much better. It wasn't an improvement. The two squat men were dressed in black wool peacoats, with black knit caps on their heads. Their features were almost identical, to the point that I figured them for twins. Both had large, block heads, wide, flattened noses, high broad cheekbones and beady, deep set eyes. The tall one walked slightly behind, and wasn't much easier on the eyes. He was as thin as a twig, and his Asiatic features were deeply pockmarked. He wore a suit of sheer material that glistened sickly in the yellow lamps. I ordered the three of them to stop where they were. "Well, what the hell do the three of you want?" The two thick men rocked a little on their heals and glanced quickly at each other, then pulled out short, stout clubs in unison by way of an answer. It was when they produced the weapons that I reflexively scanned them with the Sight. Not that there were tons of true mages or their minions running around on shadow Earth, but it's always better to be safe than sorry. Good thing, I did, too, or I'd have seriously underestimated the threat.

What I saw when I viewed them with the Sight was a pair of short, even more powerfully built humanoids, whose heads were twice as wide as they appeared. Their caps were not black, but blood-soaked red. On their feet, they wore heavy, iron-studded boots. The clubs they carried were not simple belaying pins as a sailor may make a handy bludgeon out of, but live roots, or plants, with writhing spikes on them, dripping a magically-empowered ichor. The tall man was revealed to be made of mostly sticks, with a bit of mold for hair, hollow spots for eyes, and teeth of thorns. I was facing the Fey equivalent of a hit squad. I was surprised they'd sent only two Redcaps and a miserable Gullywag along. It could only mean that the Unseelie court was engaged in some larger conflict. The question was, what could they want with me? Sure, I'd had some dealings with the Folk in the past, but they'd always been casual and amicable, the trading of small favors. I certainly wasn't associated with any of their various courts. I'd always been pretty bipartisan when it came to such things. Well, if they wanted to play these sort of games, I'd accommodate them.

"Name yourselves and your court, you lowlifes," I said by way of opening formal negotiations. The twig man responded by barking something to the two Redcaps, who rushed in immediately with their deadly-looking clubs. So much for diplomacy. I spun, sending a mental order to Gwythnir, felt the pulse of her response on my finger, and completed the circle with a katana firmly in hand. The blade was enchanted for keenness and speed, and the stroke carried through the first Recap and ended in the middle of the second one. I stood, and stepped back, drawing the blade from the second Redcap with a wicked twist. Bringing it high over my shoulder, I brought it down with finality on the injured Redcap's neck, neatly decapitating him. Master Tanizawa would have been proud. I might not be as fast or as strong as some of the Amber side of my family, but I've always been scrappy, and I'd studied hard growing up.

My second stroke left only the stick-man standing. He hissed at me, and came in low. I wasn't in the mood. Primarily because he looked deadly fast, and might be able to take me with the nasty spurs he'd displayed. Also because I had a date to get ready for. I unleashed another spell from my ring, my patented Invisible Gauntlet. I held up the hand bearing Gwythnir palm out and caught the thing up in a wave of telekinetic force, slamming him up onto the wall of the alley. "Now, I'll have your name and your mission, or you'll die on this wall." He played it tough. "The name is Jack Sticklegs, and I'll die before I talk." Well, it was his choice, really. And, I was late for the date. Besides, I figured if it was something important, they would try to kill me again, and I could get to the bottom of it later.

I left the three bodies piled up next to some trash, and went to my room to get ready for my date. When I showered, I found an ugly purple bruise around a small wound on my shoulder, which I must've picked up from one of the Redcaps. I dressed it with some antibiotic ointment and forgot about it. I arrived at the club where I was to meet Moira more or less on time, dressed in black slacks and a copper shirt, hair back in a pony tail. She was simply amazing in a sheer green dress that set off her emerald eyes and auburn hair. We dined, and she ate with the most dainty nibbles, while I watched every movement of those perfectly bowed lips. We talked, and she smiled, lighting the small, dark room. We even had a dance, after having done two shows that day. She was light and graceful in my arms, as she ever was on the stage. Finally, when the night was over, she placed her small hand on mine and asked me if I would escort her back to her rooms. I did. She invited me up for a night cap, demurely, but the invitation was in those doe-eyes of hers, in the quick pulse of her heart. I accepted. We had a drink, and I asked her if I could use her bathroom to freshen up. She said she'd slip into something more comfortable.

When I was at the sink, I felt a stir of Power in the apartment. Easing open the door to the bathroom, I held a spell at the edge of release, and peered out. Using my arcane senses, I could feel and see a strong enchantment laying over the room. Looking around the place, I could see nobody, and the only place someone could hide was behind the divan. Cautiously, I stepped forward to get a better look. I was surprised by a small voice, then, "Watch it, ye blamed giant!" it said. Looking down, I beheld the source of the noise, a six inch tall figure with a shock of green hair. Possibly a brownie, or something similar. Classifying faeries would be a zoological nightmare, and I'd never made much progress that way, despite my mother's efforts. Bending down almost on my belly, I managed to get somewhat eye to eye with the intruder, and discovered that it was male, with dark brown skin, the color of teak wood, and buck naked. "Pardon me, I didn't know I was being visited by the Good People. I'm Kyle."

Seeming somewhat mollified, the little man introduced himself. "I be Tom Quickstitches, at yer service, sir. Pardon the wee charm, but I couldn't let the lass see our dealings." I nodded my assent.

"So, what is it ye want of me Tom Quickstiches?"

"The Autumn Queen requires your services to secure the person of the Thistle Princess, who has been abducted by the Moonshadow Troll."

Thus ended my first, and last, date with the lovely Moira Flannagan.

I looked at my diminutive invader very closely, trying to find signs of Fey humor. There were none. I repeated back to him. "You want me to rescue the Thistle Princess from a troll?" He nodded, not at all reassuringly. "Well, now," I told him, "I've done ye favors before, but they were small things. For this troll fighting business, you need a stout Hero, not a ballet dancer." The little being cocked his head sideways and screwed up his face, apparently trying to detect signs of Big Folk humor. "Yer more'n a dancer, beggin' your pardon. Besides, we ran out of heroes last week, and time is short." Now, that did not sound at all reassuring. If the combined might of the Seelie Court, whichever one was involved, could not take care of this Moonshadow Troll, it must be a serious threat. I also didn't like the sound of "ran out of heroes last week." From time to time, the Fey (at least in this area of shadow) have been known to recruit exceptional humans to their cause. Sometimes, it was because men have a resistance to iron and to certain types of magics that the Fey do not, but just as often, it is because some elven princess took a fancy to his looks. Now, some of these Heroes are treated quite well, while others are quickly used up, their fires burnt out by their hosts far in advance of their time. As I understood it, the attitude of the Fey towards their human Heroes ran the gamut from pet to treasured royalty, and it varied from court to court. This fellow talked like he was more inclined to "pet" than friend. (No, there is nothing wrong with pets, and yes, some people do treat their pets quite well, thank you. Can we carry on here? It's getting late, and I have an early day tomorrow.) So, you can understand that I was a bit reluctant to jump right in, all of this considered, not to mention the fact that he'd slipped my date a magical mickey.

"Now," I began, trying to get the point across to the little fellow, "I don't think I've made myself clear. I have important business with the young lass, here, so I'll regretfully have to decline your request." I wasn't about to get involved in the wars of the Fey, especially that night, of all nights. I had to do something, and quickly, too, if I was going to have any chance at a satisfactory conclusion to the evening. I stood up, and, looking down at Moira's sleeping countenance, began a counterspell in a sing-song voice. The Wee-Folks' magic was relatively weak, and I may well have broken it by force of wil, but that would have put the subject at undue risk. As it happened, my concern turned out ot be for naught. As I stood gazing on those angelic features (No, I've never actually seen an angel, though I hear Merlin has, but that was a fire angel and quite a different thing. Now, allow me some artistic licenses and we might get to bed some time soon.)

a wave of nausea washed over me, accompanied by a sudden fire in my injured shoulder and arm. With the sudden incursion of the wee folk, I'd quite forgotten to see to my injury. As conciousness begn to slip away, I rifled through the spells I'd hung on Gwythnir, but I came up empty. Losing all semblance of lucidity, I began a slurred chanting of a common anti-toxin spell Mum had taught me. The fire spread down my arm side and into my leg, which immeditatly collapsed. As I fell, I saw a half dozen or so of the Wee Folk emerge from hiding behind and beneath the furniture and oriental rugs. The last thing I remember is the exceptionally loud sound of my head striking the floor with a ringing like a church bell. Exit Quasimodo, stage left. . .

I awoke to semi-counciousness in a small punt on a lazy river wending through the French countryside, looking up into the most extraordinary face I'd ever beheld. When she felt the feeble movement of my head in her lap, she looked down at me and stroked my brow with fingers smoother than silk. It is impossible to describe her appearance in terms that are adequate, there are simply no words equal to the task in this language or any other. I could tell you that she had hair the color of spun gold, that her eyes were colored like the most perfect emeralds ever cut, that her skin was the color of living alabaster, or that her full lips were the color of wine. All of these metaphors would fail miserably, however, in describing such a being, because those earthly objects pale before such ethereal beauty as possessed by a Queen of the Fey. Nor was that beauty enhanced by Faerie glamours. Had she done so, the mere sight of her would have stricken a mortal dead in his tracks. And, faced with such beauty, what did I say? What did I do? Why, I made a small coughing noise which really wanted to be eloquent speach, but died in my throat. Then, without further ado, I retched the last meal I'd had over the side of the boat. That's me, Kyle of the great first impression.

As if reading my distress, the Lady smiled, and laughed, her eyes sparkling with great good humor. Not at me, but for me, to reassure me that she understood my plight, and took no offense at my poor manners. Then, she spoke, "You are Kyle, the Magus." A statement of fact, rather than a question.

"Aye," I said, "my name is Kyle, milady, and I've been called many things, most of them much worse than 'Magus'".

She rewarded my attempt at wit with a generous smile. "I am Lumiel, Queen of the Autumn Court."

Then, to my astonishment, she leaned forward, and kissed my forehead. A wonderous warmth spread throughout my body, perhaps deeper than just my body, and she said, "The poison spore travels through your system, you will need your strength to fight it, so sleep for now." Well, that kiss made me feel stronger than any ten men, I tell you (Yes, I know that Larissa, and Dalt, and Gerard and all the rest are stronger than ten men. It's just an expression, now quit interrupting the flow of the story, or I'll not tell you another one!) and yet, sleep I did.

I awoke, briefly, to the sight of willow branches overhead, lumened by the golden light of breaking day, Lumiel's beautiful face haloed in the breaking light. She brushed my feverish brow, and again, I slept.

After a while, I awoke to full conciousness on a bedding of soft satiny pillows, under the billowing silk brocade of a medieval pavillion. One side was open, letting in a refreshing breeze, and allowing me to see my surroundings. Everything around me was in the sharpest of detail, the best contrast, as if suddenly I had a new color TV after watching a snowy black and white picture, or as if blinded, I could suddenly see. It was more than just a visual trick, it was as if the very essence of everything were visible to the naked eye. The pavillion showed more than beautifully brocaded silk, it conveyed a sense of place, of shelter, safety. The grass vibrated with the potential of life stored within its blades, and the rocks visible in the distance projected their great age, and steadfastness. It was a marvel to behold, a land filled with Glamour from one end to the other. I was in a Faerie realm, sure enough.

I was not alone, either, for the meadow my pavillion was in stood populated by at least a score of its breatheren, most of which had racks of slender crystalline, silver, and wooden weapons and horse rails out front, and standards of riotous color depicting fantastic beasts hung out front. This was a war camp of the Fey. Tall Sidhe knights and ladies could be seen shimmering in the distance, going about their business. Many of the small Folk roamed through the encampment, bent on their various crafts, the hobs mending things, some of the other bodkins and house sprites taking charge of mess hall duties. There were graceful, delicate-looking horses off in one area, and in another, a pen of livestock, and large-eared dogs. (Huh? Cats? Oh, yes, indeed, there was a marvelous variety of cats! There were cats in hats, a puss in boots, a cat playing a fiddle, and even a flying cat!) Then, in walked Lumiel, escorted by a wizened elven physician dressed in whites and greens, and bearing a ruby-tipped cadecus, as well as a dour man all in black, with long, hard features. She was so stunning in this place, shone with such innner radiance that it took me several heartbeats to recognize her companions while I sat entranced by her face. (What? A marvelous way to catch birds you say? Oh, no, I was only joking about the cats, there is nothing to tell about the flying cat. No, I am most certainly not cruel, and I have not been hanging around Lorius too much! It was simply a joke, you will have to learn not to be so literal about everything. Now, no more interruptions if you please, and on with the story.) The Queen of the Autumn Court did not look to be in good spirits, her face was downcast.

"I fear we have wronged you grievously Kyle, and by bringing you into this have put you in harms way. The Doctor here says that the effects of the spore are unstoppable at this stage. The spore wends its way through your system even now, and it is beyond our power to stop it. Our cantrips hold little sway over one of your blood, despite your mother's heritage. I am sorry."

Well, she looked so downcast that I automatically reached out an arm to comfort her. I noticed when I lifted the limb that it was shot through with black veins. My concern immediately turned from Lumiel to myself. I turned my Sight on my injuries, and was almost blinded immediately. The effect of true sight in this place was amazing. Adjusting my focus, I tracked down the cause of my affliction, a thorn-shaped wriggler that was currently working its way down my leg. I muttered a simple spell in a sing-song voice, held my hand over the area, and caught the little terror between my forefinger and as it broke the surface of my skin. The physician shook his head sadly and said, "But the poison remains." I didn't have the energy to argue. Instead, I gathered my energies and summoned a copper casting cup to me. Fortunately, it was easy in that place. I dropped the squirming thorn in the cup, and asked for wine. The physician handed over a wineskin silently, face so gloomy I wanted to grab his cheeks and stretch them into a smile. I drank the wine, and found it all that I expected, an excellent vintage. Then, for the spell, I requested some fresh water, and poured that into the cup with the thorn. Lots of chanting and gestures, and a flash of light later, and I had an antidote. I swirled the resulting liquid, a brilliantly shining golden-colored concoction, in the goblet. I then stood up, and Lumiel approached me, a bit of hope showing in the set of her eyes, and her lips. She dismissed her companions with a small gesture, but one that nevertheless managed to convey her chastisement.

"Is your spell effective?" she asked, standing close to me, hand on my shoulder to steady me.

I said, "It needs but one more ingredient, milady."

Her eyebrows raised questioningly, accenuating her large eyes, "Yes?"

I dared to place me arm around her waist, and said, "A small matter, really."

"Yes," she said in a hushed voice.

"A kiss, milady."

And a kiss it was! If her beauty was beyond words, then describing the feeling that her kiss gave is beyond the ability of the greatest of bards, so I will leave it at that.

"And, did it help, my lord?"

"Aye, it did. Now, I'd best drink the antidote." And I did. And that's how I stole a kiss from a Faerie Queen. Then again, you couldn't exactly call it stealing, when you are talking of someone as charming as myself. (Don't even say a word, or it's no more catnip for you! And quit grinning, cats aren't supposed to smile anyway.)

Well, now, you might think that I had one of those great romances with the Queen of the Autumn Court, like True Thomas, or one of those sots that ended up stuck in Faerie for the rest of his natural days, and heck, I'd have been as willing a slave as any man, but that simply wasn't the way it was. Matter of fact, I still wasn't too keen on the idea of going up against something that all of the Sidhe knights I saw lined up around here couldn't deal with. So, once the effects of the kiss faded, and it took a few minutes, it was back to business.

"Ah, well, there is still a small matter that I think we need to discuss."

"Yes, the Moonshadow Troll. It has kidnapped the Thistle Princess, and the solstice is drawing nigh. We shall need her back, or there will be very dire consequences for the Court. For all of Faerie ultimately. We need a Champion, Kyle, someone of your skill and might. Will you aid us?"

"I know I've done a few small favors before, to aid your emmissaries in our world. Clearing the iron from the path of a raid, getting a wooden spoon out of a graveyard. Simple things paid for with simple generousity, such as the learning of a hobstitch or two, or the revelation of certain combinations of herbs. Always have been amenable to your folk, but, this is a different matter."

She looked at me with those eyes again, and said, "Not so different, Kyle. In each of those cases, you made it possible for certain ancient rites that are vital to the survival of our kind to take place. Already, you are accounted a hero by many of our people, and are well-liked among the Wee Folk, for your humor and generosity. Twice have you saved us, and these things come in threes. I ask you for the third time to aid us a third time. Will you rescue the Thistle Princess?"

I took her hand in mine, and kissed it, bowing at the waist.

"Milady, I can little understand your cause from what you have said. So, if not for your cause, I shall aid you in the name of your beauty. I am at your service."

While Lumiel and I were, uh, resting, (I told you to wipe that smile off your face, didn't I? And no, I'm not going to tell "about humans".) I noted a finely-made lap harp lying in the corner of the room. It was small, such that it could be played while being carried, and carved intricately with woodland scenes. The strings were of silver. I asked if I might play it, and Lumiel handed it to me with a smile. I ran up and down a few simple scales by way of warming up, and immediately felt that it had power in it. More than an instrument, it was a tool, a mystical focus. I serenaded Lumiel with a few simple tunes, until mid-day came.

There was a hero's feast at the noon meal. I was slightly embarrassed when she introduced me as their hero, since I'd not yet earned that honorarium, but Lumiel seemed content with the title. The knights and ladies of the Sidhe were in attendance, as were the many other variety of Folk, from the hobs and brownies to the even smaller, winged variety, all attended. There was much excellent food, and wine, and dancing. When the eating was mostly done, and the dancing slowed, Lumiel stood, and clapped her hands for attention.

"And now," she said, "for the presentation of gifts."

She gestured at me, and I came to her side, having felt well enough to get in one dance with a noble Lady of the Autumn Court. A wizened little hob wearing brightly-colored clothes stitched with intricate designs, all in reds, yellows and greens, approached, bearing a dark package. He presented his gift to me, and bowed. "For your protection, Magus. The Owl will watch over you, and keep you well," he said. I took the gift, a long cloak, from him, and unfurled it. It was all in black, except for a large set of owl eyes and beak, and beautiful stitching all around the edges, done in copper thread. As I looked at it, the owl eyes swiveled toward me, and the beak moved, saying, "At your service, Magus, an' I'll keep you from harm, so I swear." I smiled at this, and said, "My thanks, good Owl, and my thanks to you, sir," I said to the hob. I fastened the cloak around my shoulders and waited for whatever was to come next, not having the foggiest idea of what the protocols of this place called for. (Why yes, that's the very same cloak hanging over there in my wardrobe. I'm afraid the enchantments have worn all but away over time, the gifts of the Fey being the ephermal things they are, but perhaps one day I'll fix it up. No, it isn't watching you . . . very well, I'll close the door. Big baby.) It turned out that standing there was the right thing to do, because after the hob had returned to the ranks, Lumiel handed me another package, this one all of silver. It was finely-linked faerie mail. She said, "This is the armor of Eriel of the Lake, a fine warrior. He asks you to wear it into battle, that it may protect thee." I bowed over the armor as she passed it to me, and said, "My thanks, milady, and my thanks to Eriel." I did note that Eriel of the Lake was nowhere to be seen, and concluded — it turned out rightly — that he was on the injured list. I held up the armor for all to see, and when I did, checked it with the Sight. Sure enough, it looked to be in perfect condition, but the Sight revealed telltale signs of recent magical repair on one side. The crowd loved the gift giving, and applauded and cheered after the presentations were over.

Afterwards, we sat around the table and had a brief war conference. I learned that the Moonshadow Troll was completely immune to Fey magics and to any kind of weapons, boons granted by the Moon Lady, Alua. Apparently, she was the local moon goddess or something. I also learned that her protections were worthless during the day, and that, like many other trolls, this one had a strong aversion to direct sunlight. The only problem was, the troll's cave was guarded in the daytime by two Chimerae, which were themselves quite deadly. In fact, they were what put Eriel on the injured list. After getting the essentials of the situation, I asked to be shown the area where the Moonshadow Troll was hiding.

I was taken to the edge of a dismal swamp, which exuded such an aura of evil and decay that it was almost unbearable for most of the Host who'd accompanied me. I could see from their reaction where most of their problems with extracting their princess lie, an aversion to sullying themselves in such a place. They were far more sensitive to such taints than normal folk, or than myself. Having been lead that far, I got directions to the actual site itself, and proceeded into the murky mire on foot, despite the protests of my escort.

The trees were all black, and hung with the ugliest gray and green mottled mosses you could imagine, and there wasn't a hint of any of the little signs of life that are everywhere in your average swamp. The black waters were stagnant and smelled like a cesspool. After proceeding for a short while, I encountered some small resistance in the form of two large, ugly individuals who appeared to be made of mud. The Owl on my cloak made a who-ing sound, and announced, "Trouble at three o'clock." I summoned a pair of my patented homunculi and watched them all have at it. It was amusing, until the mud men started arriving by the twos from every direction. After about five minutes, there were at least a dozen of them, and although I'd like to say my boys did well, I'll have to admit they got torn apart, literally. It seemed like the mud men couldn't quite pinpoint me, though they flailed around quite a bit, so I asked the Owl in the cloak about it, and he informed me that he was masking my presence from them. I was amused, and would have simply snuck around them, but it struck me that I should even things up with them for what they did to the boys, so I unleashed sorcerous lightning that was doubly intense in this place, and blew them all into mud pies. Still, I didn't see what the problem was for the Sidhe, they were able enough warriors to handle this crowd. Whistling merrily, I continued my trek through the swamp.

After a short while, I reached a bit of higher and drier ground. I spotted a medium sized mound which I surmised must be a cave entrance just when I heard a muted, "Oh, shit" from behind my back. My faithful guardian, no doubt. For my part, I sensed a presence behind me. Turning, I saw a tall, thin figure in shimmering armor. It had the appearance of a Sidhe knight, the same long, slender build, almost seven feet in all, the same aristocratic, yet too-thin-to-be-human features. It bore a shield with the crest of the Autumn Court on it, an orange and golden brown oak nut and leaf on a field of green, surrounded by a twist of ivory. The armor it wore, however, was plate mail, and shimmered through a kaleidoscope of colors as I beheld it, a different thing than what the knight Eriel had lent me. It spoke in melodic tones, voice modulating in different octaves one word to the next, "I am lost, you must help me, Magus, lest the Chimerae eat us aliveeee…" OK, I was born at night, but it wasn't last night. I said, "Bugger off," and let loose my patented Star Bolt, a ball of plasma which blew a hole the size of my fist through its middle. It looked down at the wound, which didn't bleed, though it smoked a little at the edges, then gave me a despondent look and faded slowly from sight.

That particular bit of oddness seemingly at an end, I approached the mound, and sure enough, it had a good-sized hole in it, leading into a dank, smelly cave. The odors that emerged from it were not at all pleasant. Before I was within fifty feet of the cave, however, I heard a small, small voice from within, female and somewhat familiar, "Magus, you must turn back! The Chimerae lay in ambush!" I answered, "Who speaks, the Thistle Princess?" She answered in the affirmative, and I told her not to worry, things were well in hand. The Owl in the cloak snorted at that, and suggested we depart. Just after introductions, I noted a shimmering shape moving in the cave mouth. It moved with sinuous menace into full view, and I beheld my first Chimera. It had the heads of three beasts, a dragon, goat, and bear. No, a boar. No, a cock, a snake and a dog. It had the legs of a lion. No, eight spider legs. No, a serpent's body. It's tail was barbed with a manitcora's sting, oozing venom. No, it was like a lion's tail, but with a tuft of flame instead of hair. The body had shimmering scales that pulsated through the spectrum in a distracting and maddening pattern. It was enough to drive a mortal mind mad, I was sure. To me, it was simply beautiful, a work of art. I was in love.

It spoke, in the same crazy tones as the false Sidhe in the wood, "What manner of beast do ye think ye behold, Kyle, son of Brand?" Damn, it knew my dad's name. Impressive.

"Is it to be a riddle game, then?" I asked.

"No," it replied, "I just like a little conversation with my dinner."

I laughed at the jest! By the gods, I liked this creature. I'd have to have one of my very own. I resolved right then not to kill it. A pointless resolve, it seemed, because on their home turf, the things were nigh invincible. I sensed the attack of its mate before the Owl on my cloak could speak. Turning, I beheld a shifting form of a great flying beast, wings of a dragon, a bat, or an insect, outspread, a dozen claws of various things and a couple of great mouthfuls of teeth all pointed at me. It snarled, "That damned spell hurt!" This time, there was only one tone, all pissed.

I bowed, and said, "Occupational hazard," quickly, then, "Adieu." I teleported out a split second before it would have landed.

The Owl was still griping at me for frightening it half to death, being totally irresponsible, and a dozen other imprecations and charges when I made my way back to the pavilion with Lumiel and her escort of knights. She laughed so heartily at the Owl that it became downright infuriated, and shut up. It wouldn't dare speak to the Autumn Queen in such a manner.

When we reached the tent, she said, "Now that you have had your bit of fun, what shall you do?"

To that, I replied, "I think I should like to play that harp again."

I took the harp to a quiet knoll, and began to play it, under Lumiel's watchful, and oh so perfect eyes. I closed my eyes because her presence was such a distraction to them, and opened my senses to the land of the Fey. I let the music flow through me. I played the song of the grass, and sang to it. I played to the trees, reaching that much higher. Then, up, singing a few birds over to me, bright, lively things, I imagined, from their song, which they joined with mine. I reached higher still, reaching for the sky, the clouds, and the sun and the stars. Then, lower, into the rocks, the soil, to the heart of the earth itself. I sang to the soul of the world, and I felt it singing back. More raw energies flooded me then than ever before in my existence. It was ecstasy, rapture purer than anything I'd experienced. I was lost in it for a time.

I felt fingers caressing my hair, and I opened my eyes. I found that I was exuding a kind of amber glow. Lumiel sat before me with wide eyes. The air was filled with sylphs, their song pulsing in time with the cords my fingers still softly, automatically, now, played on the harp. Two green-skinned dryads sat on either side of me, watching, basking in the glow. One of the sylphs glided near me and caressed my brow with near insubstantial fingers. She was beautiful, that spirit of the air, of dark, dark blue tones, with eyes like a cat's and pointed, delicate features. (No, really, I'm not lying to you this time.) She tarried a moment, and I whispered to her. Nodding her assent, she shot into the air, and did a little dance with her sisters. They departed into the clouds in a swirl, leaving a cool breeze trailing behind them. I stood then, smiling down at the dryads, who seemed a bit petulant that the song should end so soon.

To Lumiel, I said, "I believe I am ready now."

She gave me a long look, and said, "I believe that you are."

Having decided that killing the Chimerae was out, I waited until nightfall. Dressed all in the chainmail of Eriel of the Lake, covered with the Owl cloak, and bearing a long saber for appearances, I made my way to the swamp, escorted by a score of shining knights. Once again, I left them on the edge of the mire. This time, however, I cut out the romp through the swamp and teleported directly to the cave.

Facing the cave entrance, I drew the shining blade and announced myself, "I am the Magus Kyle, son of Rhianna of Moygashel and Prince Brand of Amber, and I have come for the Thistle Princess, in the name of the Autumn Queen Lumiel."

Then, I heard a low, rumbling sound from within the cave. At first, it sounded like a small seismic event, but I realized a moment later that it was laughter. As I waited, a very large figure unfolded itself from the cave. It took a few moments to reach its full height, but when it did, that height was impressive. The Moonshadow troll was all the color of peat and sod, with a great mossy tangle on the top of its misshapen head, which was set upon a long, lank body with a pot belly and arms that hung well beneath the knees and ended in outsized hands as big as automobile tires. Its feet were likewise proportioned. It spoke in a rumbling baritone so low that it set my stomach to vibrating, "I am the Moonshadow Troll, favored of Alua," he motioned toward the moon, which was full, with one of those incredibly large hands, which ended, I saw, in claws,"and I am giving over nothing to you, son of Adam. The Thistle Princess will be held in safety until after the Solstice, unless I get hungry first."

"Then let it begin," I said.

The thing nodded, its long, bulbous nose almost meeting its chest. The two Chimerae imerged from behind the knoll, scintillating and shifting from one nightmare combination of body parts to the next. I'd expected as much, and prepared something for the pair. Raising the hand bearing Gwythnir, I gestured, and unleashed a spell on the two of them. It was a simple compulsion to sleep, but designed to bypass magical and mental defenses. It drifted over their heads like a fine net, as seen through the Sight, and they tossed their heads as if to shake it off, and nearly succeeded. I gave the spell a slight push with my mind, and it stuck fast. The spell did its work, and the two beasts slept, perhaps for their first time.

This seemed to enrage my host, judging by the horrifying bellow that he unleashed. I smiled, and unleashed a short barrage of my patented Starbolts in his face. They did no harm, unfortunately, but as was to be expected, but did manage to blind him long enough for me to do a disappearing act. Folding the cloak about me, I was in the treeline before he knew what happened, hiding in shadows. "Your spells will not protect you from me, sorcerer! I am protected by Alua, the Moon Lady, and as long as her light shines upon me, I am invincible," he announced. He stood his ground at the cave, scanning the trees for signs of me. I cast a small phantasm into the treeline to his rear, an auditory illusion of rustling leaves. His head snapped that direction, and he lumbered off at a fast pace to the edge of the wood. I took advantage of the opportunity to sprint back to the cave entrance. Scanning it with my Sight revealed no signs of life, nothing but emptiness.

The troll, in the meantime, was busy uprooting small trees looking for me. Somehow, amid all of that noise, he sensed my presence by the cave mouth. Turning my way, he said, "Fool, you will not find her where I have her." and proceeded to lumber in my direction.

I teleported to a location a bit further into the trees of the swamp, and began strumming the harp. I played a light, airy tune that was totally out of place in the dismal wasteland. It infuriated the troll. Again, he charged my location. Fortunately, I’d used my patented Chain Teleport spell, so it was a simple matter to teleport to a line of sight location just ahead of the angry monster. This went on for a good while, me continuing to strum my songs on the harp, and he following behind me, bellowing, "Stop that infernal racket!", "I’ll make you eat that damned harp!", "I’ll gnash your bones with you still attached!" and other pleasantries. While the company was charming enough, the effort grew wearying after a couple of hours of hopping. Reluctantly, I found a high perch in a somewhat sturdy tree, and rested, continuing to sing my song, playing all the while on the harp. The troll was there in seconds, of course. He raged at the tree, but he was not made for jumping or climbing, and the tree was too stout for him to topple easily. He worked on it, though, for about ten minutes before realizing that it would be easier simply to throw things at me.

Picking up rocks, tree limbs, and assorted detrius of the swamp, he pelted me with a steady rain of missiles, all of which fell to the effects of my patented Heat Shield spell, which vaporized them all before they managed to touch me. He wasn’t the only one with magic defenses. Of course, such battles can take a dreadfully long time when both participants are so heavily defended. Which is what I was counting on. I continued to strum, and the sky darkened with heavy, black clouds. As long as he was occupied, I decided a little chat wouldn’t hurt things much. In between curses, I asked the troll, "So, where’d you get those Chimerae? Make them yourself, or did you find them in the wild?"

He paused for a moment, then somehow managed to squint his already exceedingly beady eyes, and finally must have decided it couldn’t hurt to answer. He said, "They were a gift, from Alua." He gestured again with that massive paw, to the small disk hanging low in the sky. "What the hell do you want, anyway? You aren’t doing anything, just sitting up there, playing that infuriating music! Come down here and fight, dammit!"

"Do I look stupid enough to fight with the likes of you?," I replied.

"Well," the gravelly voice said,"if you aren’t going to give me a proper brawl, I’m not goin’ to sit here and listen to your crappy music."

Then, he started to trundle off toward his cave. I couldn’t have that, not yet! So, stupid as it was, I leapt from my perch, sword first, and brought my enchanted blade down on his thick head. It shattered with a musical chiming, and the Moonshadow Troll caught me with one huge hand, and flung me into a nearby tree, cracking it. Even with magical protections, it hurt. "Now, that’s better," it said, as it came towards me. "Of course, you…should…have…left…well…enough…alone."

As it lumbered toward me, its footsteps slowed to the barest hint of movement. It’s massive brow furled in confusion, and it stood there gape-mouthed. I stood up, almost as stiffly. "Wha…no magic can touch me," it complained. "No magic has," I answered, "Where is the Princess?" It shook it’s head, painfully slowly, and then the clouds I’d been charming began to clear. The morning sun, which had been so occluded as to appear to be a low moon — and he’d been too stupid to realize it was in the wrong hemisphere — now appeared from beneath the dark veil of clouds. I watched as he turned fully back into the stone from which he’d come. Trolls, indeed, had feet of clay, that much they had in common with mankind, albiet in a more literal sense. Still, as he hunched over, more and more resembling a pile of rocks, I had no idea what he’d done with the Princess. I heard a slight, creaking sound from the vicinity of the troll’s head. Bending close, I heard a low chuckle, and the words, "Ate her."

I immediately called up my patented Invisible Gauntlets, and used them to crack the troll-rock in half, to find a small airpocket containing a tiny girl, no longer than the palm of my hand. She was curled in a little ball, with a shock of thistly hair on the top of her head. Peaking out from under her arms, she asked, "Is it over." I recognized the voice then, just before I saw the eyes. In face and voice, if not in stature, she was a dead ringer for the lovely Moira Flannagan! "It is over, Princess," I said, and offered her a lift on outstretched hand.

Then, I heard another familiar voice, and it whispered in my ear, "I am Alua, Daughter of the Moon. You have bested my champion, and earned my favor. Name your reward, Magus."

And I did.

~End?~