The autumn day had a certain crispness that almost demanded that you run through the leaves and do cartwheels down the forest path. Essod had never been one to avoid temptation so he ran and did cartwheels and other things even less dignified. He cavorted though the wood as if he were a boy half his years, a mere eight years old rather than the sixteen which qualified him as an adult.
Collapsing against an old, old ash tree, he remembered to check the small iron and brass box that he carried. It was still securely wrapped in leather, and the entire package was still strapped firmly to his belt. His master, Praevalerus, had learned through hard experience that Essod was reliable... to a certain point. After several heavily-bruised batches of mushrooms and some thoroughly unusable robin's eggs, the magus had acquired the box and the padding inside for his loyal, but not farsighted, servant.
Having finished that chore, he resettled himself against the tree and looked up at the tall towers of the covenant. "I wonder what the old boy is up to today, eh, Chip-chip?", Essod asked one of the nearly innumerable chipmunks and squirrels that lived near the covenant. He had a name for each and every one of them and talked to them constantly, which got him into a lot of trouble at his old village. Those who hadn't thought him mad was sure he was in league with the devil. The chipmunk cocked his head and looked as if he were about to answer, but instead bounded off, frightened.
"I'm not one to hazard a guess," a dry-humored voice came from behind him, startling Essod out of his relaxed slouch, "but I would say that he was getting impatient waiting for what he sent his servant for nearly a day ago."
Essod scrambled to his feet and, as he feared, it was Praevalerus standing behind him. "M-master! You nearly scared me to my grave, you did! And poor Chip-chip! He nearly fell out of the tree!"
Nor was he incorrect; while the boy had an affinity for the little creatures, no animal, no normal animal, could tolerate Praevalerus' presence for very long.
"Be that as it may, I still require what you were sent for." He held out a hand and Essod fumbled with the drawstring until he placed the metal box within the magus' grasp. With precise fingers, the magus opened the box and revealed an oak leaf, caught at the precise moment between turning from the summer green to the autumn gold. In fact it seemed to shimmer with its own light as the sun hit it.
"Excellent, lad! These are just the ones." A look of concern crossed the magus' face as he searched carefully through the layers of paper and cotton cloth provided in the box to protect the contents. "Eh, what's this? There are only three leaves here!" He turned toward his servant, his face becoming stormy, "You lost the rest in some of your hijinks, didn't you!"
"No, no master! I was very careful, I was!" Essod stammered out. "Right when the sun was setting, I carefully searched the big oak of the clearing for leaves like these ones. Each one began to glow as it turned color and I plucked it fast and put it right in the box. Honest, master, that's what I did!"
Praevalerus' angry expression faded to one of worry. While still a youth of thirty years, by the standards of the magi, he had seen enough wonders in his life that his gaze could frighten the unwary. "Think carefully, lad. Did anything else happen? Anything at all?"
"Well master, something most odd happened as I was gathering the leaves, it did. After I got the three you have there, I couldn't see to find anymore. Oh, I'd catch a gleam of light, but when I got around to that side of the tree, there'd be nothing for my troubles and climbing except," he paused for a second, "except maybe the slightest whisper of a bell. But the very oddest thing was that the squirrels weren't there."
"Squirrels, you say? What about the squirrels?"
"There weren't any, Master! Not a single one to help me spot the leaves. Last year, I couldn't keep them away and had a good dozen leaves in no more than an hour. This year, it took me nearly three hours to get only three!" The young servant looked quite put out, but whether it was the poor harvest, the hours of climbing, or his abandonment by his arboreal friends, it was hard to tell.
"Don't worry about it, Essod." Praevalerus' voice had gotten grim, "If I'm correct, we have worse problems on our hands than some missing leaves."
*
"How can you say that!" Praevalerus almost shouted at the portly man sitting at the head of the table. "This is a clear infringement on our territory, and cannot be allowed to persist!"
"Now, now, Praevalerus," chided the elder magus, Tristan. "It's only a few pawns of vis, nothing to get us into a war over." Tristan, while brilliant in his own way, saw little use in Praevalerus' researches.
"He's right, y'know," Dobbin added, "We just barely won the last one, and we don't want any more trouble from... them." He barely nodded toward the faerie forest that nearly surrounded the covenant in which they all lived. The mousy little man shifted nervously in his seat. The fey folk frightened him more than he would admit; he had not left the covenant for over fifty years, and then only for a very short while.
"Exactly! We have to go settle this before it gets out of hand. What if they start raiding our other sources of vis? The cocoons in the daisy fields every spring, or the ice shards from the stream that runs through their forest? How about the shifting rocks or the spider webs? Over half of our vis comes from their forest one way or another!" He slammed a fist down on the table, rattling the mugs. "Are we going to wait until they have drained us of power and they come a-conquering!"
"I'm sure it won't come to that, not at all." Lilith glanced at him through her full, rich eyelashes. She smiled that slow smile that had been known to cause riots among her many suitors. Though the magi present were well nigh immune to her charms, she liked to keep in practice. "Despite what Dobbin said, we beat them soundly last time. They would think twice before drawing our wrath. It's probably just been a bad year for vis in that glade; I'm sure next year's harvest will more than make up for it."
Praevalerus was about to start yelling again when he realized how little support he had around the council table. His strongest ally, Miranda, was deep in her studies and couldn't be disturbed to come to this meeting. Two of the newer magi generally sided with him, but they would bow out when they saw the opposition against him. If it were even close, he could demand that they bother old Boris, close as he was to Twilight, to break the tie. He closed his eyes briefly; the votes just weren't there.
As if sensing his victory, Tristan leaned forward, "Well, it seems like there is a general consensus here. The covenant won't confront the faerie about this little problem right now." He smiled pleasantly, "But you do have a valid warning, Sodalis, so we'll take it up again in say, oh, the next full meeting in the summer?"
Aghast, Praevalerus stood looking at the man; That date was nearly a full year away! But he saw the nodding heads around the table and reluctantly allowed Tristan to bring the meeting to a close.
*
A young man with a blade-scarred face sat outside the council chambers, running a whetstone along his dagger. He tested its edge with a stick of wood he kept around for that purpose. Still not satisfied, he was about to continue, when Praevalerus stormed out of the room. Hastily, he put the knife and tools away and stood up quickly. "How did it go, Master?"
The magus said not a word, marched to the west wing, up two flights of stairs and into his protected quarters. Only then, with the door closed, did he reply. "I have seen toads with more intelligence than that lot! With more foresight to boot! How can they not see that this is just the beginning! I swear I'll become a hermit if this idiocy keeps up, James!"
James took a step back with surprise. He had rarely seen his master so upset. Or at least not upset to the point where he would yell. "I, errr, take it that they didn't see things your way?"
Praevalerus sighed and poured himself a glass of wine, sitting heavily in an overstuffed chair of his own design. "No they didn't. In fact, I believe I couldn't have convinced them even if we had faeries wandering through these very halls." He took a sip of wine, then a longer swallow. "Ah well, we all make our choices and then we have to live with them."
"Does that mean you're going to stay out of the situation?"
Praevalerus snorted, "Hardly. It means that I have to go out personally and fix it. Without covenant permission or resources, at that. Which means you and I -- and probably Essod -- are going to have to talk to the Lord of the Fey of the forest and demand what the treaty allows us."
James swallowed heavily once, but appeared ready, "Certainly, milord. We'll just walk right up and demand what's rightfully the province of the covenant. No problem at all."
The magus leaned back in his chair, his face sinking into the comfortable shadows of that corner of the room, his wolfish smile disappearing as if it had never existed, "Perhaps they've forgotten in ten short years why I became a full magus early, and how I earned my sigil within their wood. Perhaps," he paused, the word hanging in the middle of the room, "they need a reminder."
*
The dreams of the inhabitants of Praevalerus' tower were varied that night. Essod ran around and around and around a tree, but never could quite catch up with the leaf he was chasing. Praevalerus relived the battle for survival the covenant was in years ago, the death of his master, Tomas, and his triumph over the forces arrayed against them.
James' dreams, however, weren't nearly so pleasant. They were of a young girl, a very young girl, named Julia. Of the battle that swept her village and killed her family. Of the horses and fighting and stink of fresh blood and feces from the dead. Of the cruelty of men toward their captives and the punishments they casually handed out to those who struggled, and especially to Julia who struggled the most.
"Oh, ho! This little one thinks she's a man!" The dream phantom of the warrior leered, "She's much too pretty to be one, so I guess I'll have to fix that!" Then the knife came down, perilously close to the wide staring eyes of the girl.
The cutting began and didn't stop for a long time.
With a cry James sat up in bed, holding her face in one hand and her dagger in the other. Cursing men long since dead, the one who had been known as Julia fell back into a fitful sleep.
Never again, she whispered, never again.
*
The trek to the forest was simplicity itself: they simply picked a direction and started walking. Unless walking down a particular path that led to what some know as civilization, all other directions entered the realm of the Fey.
Essod carried a walking stick and the box, once again secured about his waist. He walked nervously beside his master while James scouted ahead. James wore a leather tunic almost small enough to fit her properly, a sword at her side (enchanted by the magus to be ever sharp), and more than equal the sword's weight in daggers.
Praevalerus wore what he usually did: a simple robe belted at the waist by a rope festooned with pouches, sandals, and a heavily carved staff. You might mistake him for a simple traveler, if were not for the air of confidence he carried around him like a cloak, protecting him from the mundane details of life.
"Master," Essod asked hesitantly, "Why can't we take some of the guard along? At least big Julian and maybe some archers? The Fey are mysterious and have all sorts of wicked powers."
The magus sighed and explained again, "We cannot take the guard for two reasons. Primus, we can't use any of the covenant's possessions, including anyone other than my personal retainers. Secundus, if they truly wish a war, it won't matter how many grogs are along."
"B-but don't they want a war already? I mean, they stole from the covenant, they did."
"No. No, in all likelihood they are probably testing our resolve. Each year they would take more and more until we were either forced to abandon our home or face them. Once confronted with the knowledge that we know they are taking the vis, we shouldn't have any problems... until the next time."
James dropped back to where the other two were walking, "The game trail ends here, master." She looked up as if to say, Where next?
Praevalerus planted his staff and looked at Essod. "Tell your rodent friends I need a message delivered, lad." He fixed his servant with a stern eye, "And leave no part of it out, I want there to be no confusion about this."
Essod quickly called his furry companions and quietly spoke to them as the magus delivered his message. "I bring greetings to the Lord of the Forest, the One Who May Not be Summoned, and Ruler of all the Fey folk of this Wood from Praevalerus, Master of the Shaping Magics, and protector of the covenant of Ad Astra. It would please me to meet you, Lord, in a place of your choosing so that we may parlay. I ask this by the treaty signed between those of Arcadia and those of Ad Astra and the articles set forth therein."
The chipmunks and squirrels took to the trees, while more land loving rodents scampered into the underbrush. "I told them, master, every word, I did."
"Good lad. I've timed this right, I believe. By the treaty, he can't take more than an hour to come once he's heard our message. And I have no doubt that he will receive word within the space of a few breaths." Praevalerus sat on a mossy log, his staff firmly in hand.
"And now?" asked James, full of questions as ever.
"And now? Now we wait..."
Nearly to the minute, an hour slowly passed before a figure appeared in the long shadows of the dusk. A tall elf stood between the trees, with hair the color of sunshine and eyes green like emerald. He was wearing blue tinted plate armor and a sword to suit his stature. He came alone, with no other retinue other than his confidence and, it must be assumed, the countless watchers in the wood to bear witness to the meeting.
Praevalerus looked moderately surprised, "You are not Sulenain."
The elf lord smiled, "Most perceptive you are... for a mortal."
"By the treaty I have the right to speak to the master of this wood, and no other." he countered, beginning to grow annoyed.
"And so you are! A simple matter of logic, wouldn't you say? You must speak to the Lord of the Wood, yet you are speaking to Telannon. Therefore he must be the one with whom you wish to speak." He shook his head, almost sadly, "One cannot allow one's wits to grow stale if you are to deal with the Fair Ones."
Praevalerus gritted his teeth, but choked back his initial reply. "Then I take it that there has been a change in the hierarchy of the court around here?"
Telannon beamed as if a slow student of his had finally perceived the obvious. "Exactly so! Sulenain Unseelie," and his smile took on a twist of malice, "lost much prestige after being beaten by mortals. So Telannon," he indicated himself with a flourish of his hand as if to goad the memories of his listeners, "was forced to take control. And so," his beatific smile returned, "the treaty stands, each and every part."
Essod seemed lost in wonder at the sight of so noble a lord. The magi were awesome, of course, but they weren't much to look at as a group.
On the other hand, James was nearly frozen with fear. This creature of the wood both drew her with his beauty and repelled her more than anything she had ever experienced. The very attraction he possessed twisted inside of her and made her want to run blindly through the forest. Anything to get away from his presence. Only James' loyalty to her master, the one who had saved her from the ruins of her village, kept her at her post.
"As we are speaking of the treaty, there was a clause that prevented those of Fair Folk, or their servants, from stealing the products of the forest that those of the Covenant covet." Praevalerus pointed out.
"Nor did we take them!" The Lord said gleefully, "We are required, by the treaty of course, to send a message to said Covenant if there is a change in leadership." He grinned again, nearly manic, "The message was received, I take it!"
With a snap of his fingers, a troupe of brownies came out of the wood, each bearing a glistening leaf almost as large as each of them. One at a time, they laid the leaves in front of the Magus, made a small bow or curtsey, and sank back into the dark of the forest.
"We were merely... helping you collect them. Of course, we had no intention of keeping these. And we would hardly want to draw the wrath of one who could turn the very blades of grass under our feet to deadly iron, would we?"
"Ah," Praevalerus said, now understanding, "And since the treaty was signed with the Sulenain and will expire with his loss of power..."
"And so must you come to Telannon to make the treaty anew!" His laughter, so light and merry, almost seemed to shake the forest to its roots.
Praevalerus nodded his head once, conceding defeat on the point. He grimaced inside, "Not a good way to start the evening," he thought to himself. Aloud he said, "Then let us be about it, for the treaty must be remade on this very night, if I recall correctly."
Telannon nodded, "Oh, your wits are not as dull as I had feared, mortal, this will be a fine bargaining session! I shall start. We require that your covenant walls be torn stone from stone, and all its inhabitants prostrate themselves before us to serve us til the end of their days."
James looked as if she were going to protest, but was quelled by a harsh glance from her master. Praevalerus responded, "We require that all of your forest put themselves under the command of the covenant and serve us in all things, even to storming the castle of Elhared herself and placing us upon her throne."
For once, the Elf Lord looked impressed, "A bold counter-proposal! Your predecessor never would have dared so much."
"He didn't know the Fey like I do, oh Lord of the Forest. Another round?"
"Of course!" Telannon smiled his perfect smile and set about with the bargaining in earnest.
On through the night they negotiated back and forth, each proposal being scrutinized and rejected, or examined and accepted. Gnomes, appearing as if sprung from the ground, bustled around the clearing, writing the new agreement with busy quills on large scrolls made of some odd green paper.
At first, Praevalerus conceded a few small matters until he got the rhythm of the game they played. Telannon was enormously experienced and had sources of information that the magus knew nothing about. But the human was wily and managed to surprise his opponent with clever wording and creative proposals that obviously forced Telannon to backtrack and rethink his positions.
As the night drew to a close, the Elf Lord was as cheerful as ever, but Praevalerus was feeling fatigued. If he didn't concede a point or two and bring the negotiations to a close, he could stumble disastrously.
"We demand that this negotiator, one Praevalerus, be given free access to this forest at all times, not to be harried, misled, or attacked at any time until the forest itself is but a memory." It was a risky ploy, going for a big demand this late in the game, but if he could pay the counterprice, the treaty would be done. He feigned weariness and half stumbled, clutching his staff for support.
Telannon leaned close, his eyes almost predatory with their intensity, "We demand that a maiden be given to us, to share our bed this night, and every night she returns to these woods, til the end of our days or the end of time, whichever comes first."
"Done!" Praevalerus called out, accepting the terms of the bargain.
"Done!" cried the Elf, sealing the treaty and sending the Gnomes into a frenzy of scribbling. Within moments, two copies of the treaty had been prepared and the two negotiators had signed them, each in his own blood.
James, who had been watching with interest, if not complete comprehension, started as if slapped. A maiden? And before dawn? She had lost track of how many hours had gone by, but the morn had to be near at hand. With a sick certainty, she began to fear for much more than her life.
A slow, almost mocking smile came to Telannon's face, "You best hurry, mortal, for your side of the bargain grows perilously near to default." He glanced toward the east where already the stars of night were beginning to fade with the coming of the dawn.
"If any default, Lord Elf, it shall not be those of Ad Astra. Return in five minutes and your maiden will be awaiting you."
With not another word, Telannon spun on his heel and entered the forest, vanishing in but a moment, the gold of his hair last of all.
Panicked, James began to beg, "Please master! You can't send me to him! I-I-I can't do it! God above, I promised to serve you, but don't make me do this!" Tears gleamed in the girl's eyes and her voice was near to failing her.
Praevalerus looked sad and put his hands on her shoulders, "When I took you as my servant, I promised never to use you as those soldiers had. And I keep my word, whether it be to my Sodalis, to a Faerie Lord... or to you." He lifted her chin with his hand, "Besides, my brave James, those men did more than injure your face that night. You are quite unsuitable for the treaty."
"But who then, master?" Essod spoke up, "There's only the three of us and the Covenant is hours away." Though he had total faith in his master, he was often confused by the way his mind worked.
Praevalerus grinned, but there was pain in the expression, "The terms of the agreement require us to present him with a maiden, a woman who has not known man, before the night is through. I shall give him exactly that."
He picked up the pile of shimmering oak leaves with a sigh, "It seems a shame to use these so soon after expending this much effort to recover them. Ah, well." The magus began to speak the words that were almost Latin, but somehow different, more dangerous, as he cast the spell. Sweat beaded on his brow as, one by one, he crumpled the leaves as each turned brown and dry in his hands. With each leaf that died, Praevalerus grew brighter and brighter, until Essod and James had to shield their eyes from the light. Suddenly, and without warning, the chanting stopped and the light faded allowing the two retainers to look upon his form again.
Upon HER form.
Where their master had once stood was a young woman, beautiful even by the standards of the Fair Ones. She had long ebony tresses, richly tanned skin, and startlingly blue eyes. Her body was clad in sheer silks and jewelry, more suited for the harem of a shiek than the forest they were standing in.
"W-who are you?" Essod asked, "What have you done with my master?"
James pulled the boy aside and shushed him, "Milord? Is that you?"
The woman smiled slowly, white teeth shining from between full lips. "I always admired those Persian dancing girls. I never thought I'd be one though!"
"But, will this work? You've bedded before, on numerous occasions!" James blushed with the memory of guarding various rooms while her master had women inside.
"A maiden, a woman who has not lain with a man, is what the treaty requires, James. Such as the one who stands before you." Her silver laughter rang through the wood, as lovely as the one who produced it.
"Such as the one..." repeated the Telannon from behind the trio.
Praevalerus turned and curtsied lightly, "And willing to abide by the terms of the agreement, milord." She raised an eyebrow curiously, the only habit that reminded James of her master, "Unless you won't require that service?"
The Faerie's laugh rang out harshly, "And break our side of the bargain? I think not, oh wily mortal! I think not!" He pulled the newly made woman into his arms, "This will be a night you will never forget, my opponent!"
The maga laughed again, "I've beaten an Elven Lord at his own game, milord. Anything else would be a bonus!"
With a sudden gleam in his eye, Telannon vanished into the forest, and Praevalerus as well.
James sighed and sat on the same mossy log, propping her master's staff back up from where it had fallen. "Nothing to do now but wait, Essod. Nothing to do but wait."
Essod, still amazed by events, could but mutely nod.
*
An hour past dawn, Essod was startled out of a doze by Chip-chip. Someone was coming! He poked James who whirled, dagger out in a trice. "There's someone coming, James!"
Indeed there was. Praevalerus walked out from between the trees, still clad in the form she had left in. "Well! I thought at the very least that he'd take me back to you." She shook her head, "Not even a 'thank you' for my troubles."
"Are you alright master?" James asked with trepidation.
"As well as can be expected, James. An interesting experience, I must admit, and not as traumatic as I'd feared." She wore a bemused expression then slowly smiled, "I could even grow to like it."
Essod nodded, relieved, "Well that's good, milord! Especially since you have to do that every time you come back to the forest."
"Eh?" Praevalerus asked, puzzled, "What do you mean?"
"Well, I wasn't paying too much attention, but I remember the last promise to share 'is bed every night you come to the woods."
The maga hurriedly scanned through the scroll she grabbed from the ground. With a sigh, she nodded, "You're right, of course. I can't believe I let that clause slip by. Well, it only applies if 'she' comes back to the woods, and this spell should be fading with the dawn."
James looked through the forest canopy, to the east, "Ummm... master. It's been dawn for over an hour."
Startled, Praevalerus whirled in that direction, staring at the risen sun dumbly for a moment. Her face grew enraged to the point where James was looking for someplace to hide, when suddenly Praevalerus burst out laughing. For several minutes it was all she could do to draw a new breath in before she started laughing again. Weak with mirth, she clutched her staff and used it for support.
"M-master?" Essod asked hesitantly.
"Oh this is marvelous! That, that, that Elf, made my spell permanent! What a clever stroke! He could never have kept his rule if he had been outwitted by a 'mere' mortal." She wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling to herself.
"Then you aren't upset? I thought you'd be..." James didn't complete that thought. Memories of what Praevalerus could do when he, when SHE, was sufficiently angry chilled her.
"Upset? Well, I suppose I should be, but don't you see what this means?" She looked at the blank faces of his two servants. "A permanent transmutation of an essential characteristic! Standard Hermetic theory strictly disallows this kind of..." and on and on she lectured to the willing, but uncomprehending ears of the two as they walked back to the covenant. New treaty in hand and a new season to study the discoveries of the old.