Ambrosia

Prolog:
REVISED 1_20_2003 This is currently posted at Writermag.com. Please click here and leave comments.

He had been abandoned. His mother and baby brother were gone. They had left him. Left the monster.

Jael perched on the doorstep, quivering. The open door of the small stone cottage banged a cadence in the cold, early winter air. He had known they would, deep in his heart he had known for some time. Ever since he was forbid from coming near his brother, he knew. Yet he had kept alive a hope that he would be forgiven, or cured, or rescued from the strange and wretched curse that made him an outcast. But they had given up on him, as he feared they would. He was cold and alone, numb to the point of almost not caring.

"You."

The voice came from above, and Jael raised his eyes to a shadowy form towering over him. The eyes set in the face that stared back were a color that made Jael want to look away.

The figure moved forward so that the shadow of his body began to inch over the boy. Jael shivered with renewed cold and something else.

"They left you."

Jael glared back. A hand, like the bumpy claw of a vulture, extended from beneath the figure's cloak. It came to rest on Jael's shoulder, and Jael felt the warmth and crackle he always felt when someone made physical contact with him. But before he could pull away, talon-like nails of the bit into his shoulder and held him firmly. The man wore a look of pleased surprise on his face.

"My Lord," he hissed, "you are more powerful than I expected."

"Doesn't it hurt?" choked Jael, his eyes widening.

The man took Jael's other shoulder and roughly pulled the boy to his feet. "Does this hurt?" Of course it didn't hurt, thought Jael as all the throbbing in his temples evaporated. No one had ever held him before. No one had been able. He just hung there like a rag doll.

The man continued to hold him by the upper arms. "We are two of a kind you and I."

Jael nodded dully. He felt as if he were going to fall asleep, the daze of having fourteen years of pain lifted from his body was enough to make him loose continuousness. The demonbayer saw this and lifted the boy up into his arms as easily as if he were a baby. Jael felt himself melting like wax, and his final thought as he drifted off was of his mother, and how she had never been able to make him feel this safe.

I have yet to learn the true origin of Emma, so I have chosen my favorite myth. This is not necessarily the most useful character construction for the overall story (I think it would make more sense if we see her coming from "Mundania" ala Wizard of Oz, Neverending Story,Alice in Wonderlandor Labyrinth.) Check out alternate chapter one that follows for a different version.

Some of my choices :
Emma, guarded by Alassi, meets Nickabar (hid in the tree)
Emma is traveling with her family to the city due to a summoning
Emma is traveling home with brother when she meets Ian
Emma is in Earthen and is taken by Ian to Ambrosia (sometimes with sister)
Emma is in Earthen (but long ago) and is taken by Ian from her goatherd
UPDATED 1_26_2003.

Chapter One:

"No, I don't sing."

She spoke to the large beastly companion at her side. It shook its heavy head and squawked, using two stub-fingered hands to pat its pectorals. The girl smiled and shifted her small pack to her left shoulder.

"Oh, you'll sing along? Quite a duo we'd make."

The creature nudged her and made a swift movement with its hands, touching the side of its misshapen head. "Well of course no one would hear us, but why would I want to torture my own ears? What have they done wrong?"

It hissed through a hard-edged, beak-like mouth.

"Fine, fine, what do you want me to croak out? Kiss the Moon? But that's so long!" At her companion's pleading whimper, she relented. "Fine, don't beg. Believe me, it doesn't become you."

The two began the song, and the unnatural union of their voices drifted through the meadow. Even though her singing was untrained and she hit many a wrong note, and even though the strange whistling and deep growling from the mage born could hardly be considered melodious, the mixture of sour and sweet was oddly beautiful.

They continued on for the duration of the song, then sang it again. The morning was young and green and fresh. Eventually, the girl grew thirsty and the songs were left to the birds and the bugs.

Moving across the meadow to a grove of trees, the creature found a cool, shaded spot and set its huge backpack down on the ground. After three days travel down from the highs of the mountains, it seemed genuinely glad to lift the pack from its back. The girl rummaged in her own pack and withdrew a canteen they’d filled at a stream the night before. She drank to quench her thirst and reached over to hand it to her companion. After a moment at arm’s length, she withdrew the canteen and scoffed. The creature had curled itself into an armored ball, wrapping its scaly tail up and around its body.

"Nice lot of protection you are," she said, loud enough for the other to hear. "It's still morning! We've only been up and moving for..."

Deeply forced snoring interrupted her chiding. "Ach, you're hopeless." She capped the canteen and leaned up against his plated back. She yawned, the heavy heat of the air above pressed down upon her and made her drowsy. Even in the shade of the grove, Oren, the bright shining flame above, was intense. She hoped they would reach Serpente in a day or two. And there she hoped to find some answers.

Gazing over the meadow, her eyes lit upon a form high in the branches of a tree across from her. She squinted, unsure of exactly what she was looking at. Black cloth, hints of gold. At first it looked like a bundle of laundry, but who would place clothing up so inaccessibly high? No, whatever it was had been placed there by someone who hadn't wanted it seen. It was carefully balanced up in a crotch and if it hadn't been slightly offset, she would never have noticed it.

"Hey goat," she prodded the hulking mass of her companion. "Wake up, I think someone is watching us." Actually, she had no clue if the form in the tree concealed a person, but the words roused the creature's instinctive guard.

It uncoiled from its resting position and with a motion signed, "where?"

She pointed across the clearing. The creature’s large black eyes narrowed, then it stood to towering height. The girl crouched behind the large backpack, ready to bolt. The creature moved with a surprisingly light gate and peered up into the branches. It turned to her, and she saw its hands form the sign for "man."

"Who," she signed back, using his silent language as the long golden grass around her rustled softly. The creature gazed up again, then slammed itself against the tree's wide trunk. She flinched at the violent tactic and heard a scream from inside the tree. Then a yelp and a snap of branches and a body fell to the ground.

"You gourd," she yelled, getting to her feet, "it's just a boy." She hurried to the fallen form, a colorfully clad one at that. Not a noble material by any stretch, but the many-pocketed, multicolored garments of a traveling musician, a gypsy. The creature approached the boy as he began to stir, but the girl motioned it back. "You want to scare him into a faint?"

The boy turned his body over gently, still groggy. "Never fell before," he mumbled to himself, "loosing my touch."

Then he saw the girl and skittered backwards like a crab. "Hey!" The exclamation came out a surprised cough.

"Are you alright?" she asked, noticing fear in his eyes. "I won't harm you."

"It's not you I'm worried about, girl," he said, and she noticed that his eyes flew to the broad-shouldered beast behind her.

"My name is Emma, " she said, "and don’t mind him." she gestured to the beast, "Alassi, help the boy up."

The gypsy scrambled to his feet. "No I'm good, really." His tense fists remained balled as he turned to face her. "Good folk like you know nothing of the police squad of Renquest, I would guess?"

Her blank stare seemed to put him at ease. Comprehending his reaction she questioned, "why do you ask?"

"No reason," he said, too quickly. He then swung his eyes from Alassi's massive form and gave the girl his full attention. "I would think I should be on my way now."

"Wait, where are you headed?" she asked as he began to trot backwards. "Not Renquest I would wager."

"Never say wager to a gypsy," he flashed her a grin of young, white teeth. “That tip alone is worth a turq or two.” He rubbed two fingers together; reinforcing the fact that, with his people, nothing ever came free.

"We are headed to Seprentes, the royal city," she volunteered, remembering the few times she had seen gypsies at fairs. The back and forth of a good trade was more spectator sport than some jousting matches. Usually, by the time an agreement was reached, Emma had long forgotten what the original wager had been.

The gypsy boy halted and removed his short black and emerald cloak, shaking dirt, leaves and bark from its surface. "Madam Emma, that I travel to Serpentes to meet up with my caravan seems to be little concern of yours." He swung the cloak back over his shoulder.

She didn’t know why she was about to suggest what she was, to a boy who’s name she didn’t even know, but that didn’t stop her. "Would it not make sense since we are moving in the same direction to band together?" Behind her, Alassi snorted like an ox but she ignored it. "Not that you need any protection, you understand."

The boy rubbed his arm and rotated it in a circle. "I wouldn't expect any. That fall was proof enough of your companion's care for me. I am thinking it’s not a stretch of the imagination to blame him for that. All right, a formal greeting then. My name is Nic." He gave her his abbreviated name and bowed only slightly to her, then to Alassi, who clacked his beak menacingly back.

"Don't be so rude, introduce yourself."

Alassi held his right hand first to himself, then sharply gestured at Nic. The boy somewhat awkwardly returned the motion. He turned a questioning glance at Emma.

"Close enough," she said.

“So why to the royal city?” he questioned, as Emma picked up her bag.

“Why are you running from the Renquest police?” she countered, meeting his dark eyes and smiling. Alassi rounded them, his imposing bulk interrupting their short exchange. Nic’s eyes were drawn to strange creature, and he watched as Alassi lifted the pony-sized pack with one defined arm to his back. Shifting it slightly, he huffed past the boy and stomped off through the tall, gently waving grasses.

“You are a curious pair,” Nic stated.

The threesome lit off. The ground sloped downward making travel easy, especially with Alassi forging a way through any tall bramble. Nic revealed little, but Emma found him an interesting enough traveling companion. She loved Alassi, but hadn’t realized how much she missed hearing another human voice. Nic disclosed some information about his life with the caravan, more self-advertising than genial conversation. His family, mother father and twelve brothers and sisters, was a well-known troop of animal trainers. They in turn banded with five other families of horse breeders, minstrels and others that traveled year round. Nic spoke most glowingly of his rhythm pony, Listesso. He even sang for Emma once after she begged to hear it.

Finally at midday, they rested beside the rocky bank of a tiny stream. From that point, which was on a bare hill at about tree level above the rest of Gypsm forest, they could gaze over most anything. Alassi even pointed out the Royal City, far in the distance. Here they ate again, and Nic reminded her that she owed him.

“For what?”

“Kinsman’s Way. Song’s like that don’t come free.

Emma bit into the tough bread that Alassi had handed her, chewing it slowly and staring Nic in the eye. Finally she swallowed and asked, “What do you want to know?”

He smirked and toyed with a weed stem, snapping it off and muching thoughtfully at it’s end. “How about why you are headed to Serpenten?”

“That’s a little much, don’t you think?” Reaching to her cup, she took a careful sip of water. Nic spit the stem from his mouth.

“Well, how about telling me who you’re going to see there - relitives, friends, tutor. Future husband perhaps?”

“Oh no,” A bit of water splashed from her cup as she shifted on the rock. “If you must know I’m seeing the prince.”

Nic’s shattering laugh echoed over the forest. He threw his head back, a little ostentatiously Emma thought, and braced himself with a hand on a rock. She felt herself flush as she said, “I am to see the prince! Ask Alassi! I have a...” She bit her tongue. This stopped Nic’s laughter abruptly and his black eyes glittered.

“A what?”

“A nothing.” Hastilly she stood, gulping the last of her water and stowing her cup away. Fool! Dolt! She chided herself. This is the only thing you really didn’t want to tell the boy!

He begged her and became a nuisance for the rest of the day. He offered songs, information, all manor of trades. Finally she could take no more.

“Alright, tell me your story,” she interrupted as he swallowed the rest of his sentance. “Why the police squad, what were you doing in the tree, why were you seporated from your caravan?”

He paused. Then, digging into the pocket of his vest, he withdrew a palm-sized amulet of a dull gray metal. On the side showing face-up was an image of a snake. Emma stared at it, then at Nic.

“What is that?”

For a moment, Nic puzzled at the object, as if he too were asking that question. But he replied, “It’s a talisman. Magic holder.” He flipped the thing over with his fingers and she saw a spell pattenr etched on the back, a crazy spiderwebbing of lines. “See,” he said, “That’s the spell you cast to move magic in or out. He thoughtfully flipped it back over again.

“Can you work magic?”

“No,” he answered, then looked up at her with dark, shadowed eyes.

“Did you steal it?”

He slipped it back into his pocket and laced it in tight. “What do you have?”

Emma let her thoughts catch up to what Nic was referring to. “I... I can’t say. I can’t tell anyone.”

“What?” He turned his back on her and started to walk away.

“I didn’t promise you anything,” she said. Then, when he didn’t stop, “Where are you going?”

“Royal City, didn’t I tell you that?” Under his breath he muttered, but she couldn’t make it out.

Appaled at his childish behavior, she yelled after him, “Go then!” She let her hands rise above her head and let them fall to her sides in a guesture of complete disregard. Turning, she met Alassi’s plated chest. She rose her eyes to his. “He left. We don’t have to follow.”

His heavy hand fell to her sholder. “He’ll be more help than harm,” he signed.

Emma pushed away. “How can you say that? What could he do for us?”

“He knows the town. Where we go, what we need.”

Emma didn’t want to give in. “But he’s just a kid.”

“As much as you are. Better with the city. And,” a hesitation. Emma had the impression that he was trying to look sympathetic but his mageborn features wouldn’t let him. “ He is a boy.”

As she protested, he scooped up her small pack and flung it in the direction Nic had walked. It landed with a soft thud in the grass and rolled a little down the hill. Then, like a hulking pile of rocks, Alassi himself started down the hill.

“Ach,” Emma spat. As usually, Alassi’s unemotional thinking led to clear reason. She followed.

Alternate Chapter One:

It was the day she wore that stupid shirt. The pink one with the zebra on it that was too short and too tight and not in a flattering way. They teased her terribly that day, to the point where marched right up to them and demanded to know what they wanted. But they just laughed and sniggered. It made her heart jump furiously in her chest and her eyes burn and eventually she just walked away and they kept teasing her loudly behind her back.

Marshall, who use to live next door but who she only saw on the bus now because his parents had gotten a divorce and he now went to a different school, tried to console her with his own story of being picked on. But Marshal wore bib overalls and rubbers in winter and it was fully expected that he would be teased. She, on the other hand, tried to fit in, and it always backfired on her.

Then she arrived home, hopeful that things couldn't get any worse. She couldn't have been more wrong.

She knew something was up when her little sister and her mom met her at the bus stop.

"Hi honey," said her mom as she stepped carefully off the bus into the slush of snow and salt and ice and rocks that was their driveway. "How was school."

"Fine," she answered as always. Her mom smiled, the answer seemed to make her happy. If only she could know the truth. Then her smile faded as she turned to walk down the hill.

"We have some bad news," her mother began.

"Guess who died?" her little sister suddenly piped up.

Emma froze, "Who died?"

"Morgan," her mom said sternly, then turned to her eldest daughter. "She isn't dead yet, but she's very sick. We knew this day was coming and she is very old. Emma wait!"

Her mother's voice fell on deaf ears as she raced towards the little barn, thinking, "Not Moony!"

Moony was the last of the dairy goats that Emma and her mother had raised before her dad purchased that herd of huge ugly beef cattle. They had slowly sold most of the goats until only one remained. Moony, so named for the moon-shaped crescent on her forehead. She was old and hadn't given milk for years. Still, she was all that was left of the goats, all that was left of a time Emma remembered as a lot better than the life she was living now.

Moony was not in her usual stall. All the messy straw had been swept into a pile. She wasn't even dead and already they were cleaning out her stall. But where was she?

Emma raced out of the barn and almost slipped on a patch of ice.

"Slow down! She's in the house," Emma heard her mother call.

Then her sister Morgan called gleefully, "We have a goat in our house!"

Stupid sister! Stupid mother! But at least Moony was inside where it was warm.

Inside she ran. And there was poor Moony. She was lying down, her head on the floor, mouth open, her sides heaving in and out. There was a bowl of water and some food near by, some oats which Moony usually wouldn't let sit around for a second. Yet there they were. Emma sat down, cooing at Moony, petting her back and her side. Emma's mother walked in and shook some snow off her mittens. Morgan stomped her feet unnecessarily. Emma said nothing.

"Your dad isn't going to like her being in here. I put a mat down for her, "Her mother pointed to the old blanket Moony lay upon. "She should be more comfortable in here. And she'll be close to people who love her."

Emma felt tears well up in her eyes. She pulled the bowl of oats closer to Moony's face and shook it a little. "Moony, don't you want some oats? Yummy oats?" Moony's eves were open but they didn't focus on anything.

"We tried that." Her mother said. "It's just teasing her to offer them. She can't eat them."

Emma put them down. The last thing she wanted to do was tease Moony, to offer oats she could never have, would never eat. "Why!" she finally bust out. But she wasn't about to start bawling. "Why is Moony sick! Why couldn't we have kept Moony's babies, then we'd still have her family with us. But we sold them!" They were rhetorical questions and her mother looked sadly on. Morgan had moved off into the other room to watch television. Stupid sister!

"Emma honey, we couldn't keep any goats. They were just to get us started here at the farm. Now we have the cows to take care of. When you grow up, you can keep goats if you want…"

"I don't want different goats, I want Moony, " Emma said stubbornly. "I don't want to be a farmer anyway. Farmers are poor and don't wear nice clothes and they stink." She stood up. She didn't want to leave Moony's side, but she had to get away from her mother. In a way, she wished she hadn't spilled out her feelings like that but it was too late to take anything back. She ran past her mother as her mom started to ask her about getting teased again, and went to her room .

Finally, with her head in her pillow, she cried. She cried most about Moony. About the poor old goat who Emma helped to raise and milk and feed and water. She cried about Moony's babies that she saw born and then saw sold away somewhere. She cried about all the goats they use to have, back when they only had small animals like chickens and rabbits and cats and dogs. Not big, mean, smelly, dangerous cattle. She cried about the unfairness of farming and how someone couldn't live on just raising goats. She cried about her dad not wanting Moony in the entryway, and she cried about the young men that her dad had to help on the farm now that also liked to tease her. She cried about being teased, being called mean names, being picked on, being too fat, too big for her old clothes that didn't fit her right. She cried about her homemade pants that her mom made for her. She cried about her stupid zebra shirt that was too small and too pink. She whipped it off and grabbed a big baggy olive green sweatshirt that she wore sometimes when the house got too cold. There, that was better. Yeah, right, sure it was. Her face fell back into the pillow.

Emma came down for supper that was hamburger, potatoes and carrots all mashed together. Dogfood pie her dad called it. Morgan never liked dogfood pie. She separated all the three foods into little piles and ate them by themselves. Her dad said something about Moony not being allowed in the entryway to the house, but before Emma could protest, he said it would be all right for now. Maybe he thought Moony would get better. No, not likely. Not with a bowl full of oats sitting there. Emma wanted to ask if they could call the vet to come look at Moony but she knew it wouldn't do any good. It was true that Moony was old, and they had all known for a long time that this day would come.

After supper she went into the entryway to be with Moony. She was not getting any better. Her eyes were closed now and her breathing was slow. Emma stroked the goat and whispered nice things to her about what a good goat she was and how is wouldn't be cold where she was going and how there was a lot of green trees and lots of barrels to jump on top of. Finally it grew too late and Emma went up to her room. Her mom wanted to talk again about school but Emma told her she was too tired. And it wasn't a lie. It was surprising how exhausting crying was. So her mom left her alone. She lay down in her clothes and listened to sounds coming from the barn. She watched as the light finally went out, signaling that her father and the men he had working for him were finally finished with the chores. She heard her father come in the door and she crawled out of bed, putting her ear to the heater vent near her bed. She heard her father's voice drift up. "Poor old Moony. We're going to miss you. " There was a pause, then she heard a scrape and a grunt and her dad's footsteps were suddenly heavy. She heard the door open and her heart dropped. She jumped up and ran down the stairs. Moony was not in the entryway. Emma threw on rubber boots and a coat and ran out into the cold night.

"Dad wait!"

"Emma," her dad turned and she saw that he carried the lifeless body of the goat in his arms. "You should be in bed."

"What are you doing with her!"

"She passed away Emma." He said, his face grave. "We can't have her in the house. I'm putting her in the woodshed. We may be able to bury her tomorrow."

"Oh," Emma's voice was flat. She reached out a hand and stroked the exposed part of Moony's side. "'Bye Moony." Her father moved off and went into the woodshed, a small unheated room built onto the barn. When he returned, he was no longer carrying Moony. Emma ran to him and he hugged her.

"You go inside, it's too cold out for you."

She looked up at him. "I want to see something in the barn real quick."

He looked at her hard, then he looked very tired. "Okay, but don't stay out too long. Turn off the light when you come in and be sure to lock the door."

She nodded and watched him go back inside. Then she entered the barn through the thick wooden door, into the fragrant smell of warm animals and winter hay. She flipped on the light and looked at Moony's empty stall and went over to it, plopping down on a nearby bale. What was she doing out here? Obviously Moony wasn't here anymore, she was growing cold out in the woodshed. The idea made Emma shiver. What about when her parents died, or when she did? Would their bodies just be set somewhere and left to get cold and stiff?

Emma's head shot up as something scratching at the barn door startled her out of her misery.

"Who's there?" The door opened a crack and the yard light lighted up a small figure from behind. Morgan stepped into the barn in that slow, careful way only little kids can get away with.

"What do you want?"

"I wanted to see Moony," Morgan whispered, approaching the stall. Here pupils were wide in the darkness. Emma hopped off the bale of straw and went to the door.

"Well Moony isn't in here. She's out in the woodshed freezing stiff because she's dead. You want to come see?"

She turned back to her sister to see Morgan's dark eyes fill with tears. Her cry started as a whine and escalated quickly into a wail.

"Oh Morgan stop that!" Inside, Emma felt like an awful horrible monster of a sister for making Morgan cry. She went over and hugged the little girl. "I'm sorry. Moony is dead." Then Emma felt tears slipping down her cold cheeks. She hugged Morgan tighter. "Please don't cry. She was old."

"I don't want to pet her if she's dead," moaned Morgan.

"You don't have to pet her." Emma pulled away and knelt down by Morgan. "Wipe your nose Morgan, it's gross." Morgan complied. She had stopped crying but she still sucked in sob like breaths. Emma wanted desperately for someone to come and hug her and wipe her own nose, but both Mom and Dad were in bed, she was sure. She tried to think of what her mother would do to calm Morgan down.

"Let's go back inside."

"I don't want to go in yet." Morgan said, surprising Emma.

"Yeah, I don't want to go in yet either. Let's walk to the fence and back." *

The two girls slipped out of the barn and down the path that led behind it. The fence line ran the length of their farmland and the two girls picked their way down a well-worn path in the snow. Neither of them spoke. Emma tried not to think as well. Then Morgan whispered, "There he is!"

Emma squinted in the direction that Morgan pointed. "I don't see anything."

"Here puppy! It's the doggie." Morgan cooed out into the field. Still Emma saw nothing. It was probably just a shadow, or maybe one of the stupid cows. But then she saw movement, far across the field, loping along the opposite fence line.

"That's a big dog," she thought as she watched it move. They did not have dogs at their farm anymore, and the nearest neighbor only had black and white hounds. This animal was white as snow, moving slowly yet in a determined path.

"Here puppy!" Morgan raised her voice and called again. "Here puppy puppy!"

"It's not a puppy," Emma said with irritation, but the animals had stopped at the young girl's call. It pointed its triangular ears and turned its head towards them. There was something wrong with all this, Emma thought, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was.

Then the beast began to approach. Morgan crouched down and called, talking sweetly to the animal.

"I don't think you should touch it," Emma watched the animal come closer. Morgan moved as if to slide under the wire fence and Emma tried to grab at her. "Morgan don't!"

"He's a good doggie. I petted him once." The animal was the biggest dog Emma could imagine. Yet its narrow fierce face, pointed ears and long legs made it look somewhat wild and wolf-like.

"I've never seen him before, who does he belong to?"

"I dunno," said Morgan. "It's trained! It's a good doggie aren't you?"

Emma looked up to see the wolf seated in the snow less than six feet away, long pink tongue lolling with a look almost like a friendly smile on its face. She froze, and the wolf turned its head to nibble an itch on its shoulder. Emma froze, and Morgan again tried to escape under the fence. This time, she succeeded, and began to approach the wild animal with her hand out.

"Morgan get back here!" Emma hissed. Images of Morgan's arm bit off at the elbow flew through her mind, yet the beast didn't look in the least interested in making a meal of the girl. "It's probably sick! It probably has rabies and that's why it is acting so strange!" These thoughts came in quick succession and Emma waited for the animal to curl its lip back, exposing the sharp white knife tips of its teeth. Morgan inched forward, scooting in the snow. Then the wolf-dog, whatever it was, stuck its nose into the snow, snuffled around for a moment, then rolled onto its back, snaking back and forth scratching that itch. Morgan darted forward and touched the animal's coat.

"Good boy! You sure are soft. Come pet him, Emma." She sunk her fingers into the fur of the dog's belly. "He's warm."

Emma cautiously approached, slipping under the fence. She held her hand out to the animal to sniff, but it was more interested in playing in the snow. She patted its head. "Good boy."

Then the animal rolled to its feet, abruptly alert. It stood, shook the snow from its white coat and started to whine, as if it wanted to be anywhere but where it was. Backing away from the girls nervously, almost apologetically, the dog turned and dashed away towards the far fence.

"Wait!" called Morgan. "Come back puppy! Go get him."

"I'm not going to go get him. Maybe Dad yelled at him and he's afraid to be here. Come on, let's go in, I'm cold."

The huge snow white blue dog, loped along the fence line in blustery blowing swirls of bitter cold. Only now there was no wind, Emma thought. The animals stopped and looked back at the girls. It stood unmoving but obviously there. Kind eyes, black, pierced the whiteness like two charcoal lumps in a frosty snowman face.

"Come on," Morgan trudged through the snowfield. The dog playfully leaped around her. What was with the thing, was it bipolar? One minute scared, one minute happy. Maybe it still would try to chomp Morgan's arm off.

"I'm going in." Emma turned to go when a sudden bolt of lighting lit up the farm bright as day. Lighting? There was no following thunder, yet behind her she heard Morgan squeal with surprise and she turned to see a faint orb of light encircle the dog and her little sister.

"What's the matter," for a fleet second, Emma feared her sister had been somehow struck by lighting, but that made no sense. Still, something had happened and there was now a full circular glow enveloping the two forms.

"What's going on?" Morgan looked around her, disoriented and startled. Emma ran as fast as she could through the snow to her sister. Then her eyes met with the dog's eyes behind Morgan. And the wretched thing finally pulled its lips back in a sneering growl.

"Come away!" Emma tried to reach her sister. Morgan turned back to the 'nice doggie', her mood and opinion switching quickly to terror. The dog was not growling at Morgan, but at Emma, which made Emma freeze.

"Something is wrong with that dog," she tried to keep her voice from wavering. "Please, Morgan, come here."

Morgan stepped quietly out of the circle of light and came to Emma's side, still keeping her eyes on the dog. The dog stopped growling and began to circle the two frightened girls. Strangely, the circle of whitish yellow light followed him like a spotlight. Was there a plane shining the light down from above? Emma quickly glanced up but still saw no source.

"Emma, I'm scared,"

"Me too," Emma confided. Every time the dog came close to Morgan, she scooted around to the other side of Emma and out of the circumference of light.

Chapter 2:

I like this chapter but don’t think it adds to the story. I think it would work better to have Emma and Nic meet and exchange their introductions. Then again, I could use this if I decided to have them meet after Emma Possesses the Moonpearl (and Nic tries to steal it).

He had never run so long or so hard in his life. A stitch at his side was causing him to slow but he knew that he was still a good twenty lengths ahead of his pursuers. The dogs, however, were only ten lengths away.

The young gypsy boy shot through the dense, moon-dappled woods, zigzagging forward to confuse the trail. He could hear the hounds coming closer, and behind them, the hoof beats of the riders. The feeling of panic did not overwhelm his thoughts, even as his foot landed splashing and slipping in a small stream.

Looking up, he leaped into the branches of a large tree and hung expertly upside down from its limb. Reaching into one of his vest's many pockets, he unbuckled a small vial of powder. Flipping its top open, he dumped the vial onto the ground around the stream bank. Fine gray powder sprinkled down onto the wet leaves, dissolving almost instantly. Flipping himself back into the tree, he scrambled as well as any squirrel into the dark recluse of the branches, high as the eagle perches. He gasped once and held his breath.

In a flash, six low, lean figures appeared below him. That was not good, they'd been closer than he'd thought. Around their collars told him that they were trained thief trackers, hunters of the utmost breeding. He hadn't taken that into account either. He watched carefully, freezing every muscle and hoping that the dogs would not be immune to the crisroot powder he had used on the ground beneath him.

"We know you're in there!" The voice made his heart skip as the two riders entered the forest glen. "If you give yourself up now and hand over the item, we promise you won't be killed!"

Sure, he thought, when lambs eat wolves.

The riders came into view, both mounted high on a pair of perfectly matched beauties. They reeked of nobility and the boy began to wonder what exactly he had gotten himself into. The dogs circled the area, confused. Some sneezing as they tried to follow the nonexistent tracks. Nickabar grinned to himself as he listened to the men muttering curses below.

"Call the dogs off, it's another one of those gypsy tricks. The kid is gone, and so is the amulet." The second man swore loudly and paused, a look of disgust on his well-groomed face. Then he whistled to the dogs. Even as they began to retreat, Nick didn't trust them. It wouldn't be the first time he'd slept like a bird, and he wedged himself into the cradle of two branches. As he settled, he fished around in a pocket and pulled out the palm-sized amulet. Turning it over in his hands, he let his thumb trace the spider's web pattern on one side. Another magic item, of no practical value. What in blood hell was he risking his life for?

Suddenly, a raven screamed loudly into his ear. Nic jumped and juggled the amulet, almost loosing it in the darkness. The bird took off as Nick snatched the amulet back and stored it away in his pocket. He watched the bird fly off silhouetted against the full moon.

Chapter ?: This was an attempt at introducing Iandrew as a different sort of character - young, inexperienced.

"Iandrew, step forward."

The cool, flat voice of the prince rang out through the stone hall. Iandrew licked his dry lips and approached the throne. At the moon symbol on the floor, he bowed, then stood. If there were anywhere that he was less comfortable than in the throne room, he hoped the day never to come that he would find himself there.

"Please report," Prince Caspar D'julares. Cas played his part so well, thought Ian, why can't I control my blasted shivering?

"Report you highness? Yes." Where was he?

"Iandrew, the search for the possessor," the Prince urged. Near him, the tall form of Selenight, leader of the guild of Kins stared down at him with cold blue eyes. Ciat, he swore at himself, this was not going well.

"Ah yes, the search." Then it all came to him, "The possessor! I believe we have located her! Her name is Morgan Mayhave. She is a girl of Earthen years, I would say seven. I have observed…" here Ian faltered again. Stupid silly Ian, get a grip! "Observed her from a dreamfield. That is to say, I entered Earthen and the dreamfield kind of went away and I looked for her…" he was rambling. Selenight interrupted.

"What do you mean your dreamfield went away? Haven't we practiced control enough Kin?"

Cas held up his hand before Ian could sputter an apology. Selenight withdrew, but she did not look happy. Cas sighed quietly and tried again. "Ian, just tell me, did you see her?"

"Yes," that he could manage.

"Did she see you?"

"Yes," Ian squeaked before his brain had a chance to think of an excuse. Selenight's white face grew pink, and Cas sat back heavily in his throne.

"She did see you. In which form, may I ask."

"Lupine, your highness."

"And we have been working on animal control tactics as well," Selenight put in.

"I understand," said the Prince. Finally he addressed Ian one last time. "Is there anything else you need to tell us Ian?"

His brain a tangle of hurt and shame, he could only manage a nod of his head. Dolt! Even that didn't make sense! Feeling that his heart would burst from his chest right there in front of the Prince and the Court, Iandrew hastily retreated to the Kins placement in the great hall. It was over. He would get a tongue lashing from Selenight and probably more training than he cared to think about. But it was over. With a black leather clad arm, he wiped the sweat from his brow and tried not to look at anyone for the rest of the meeting.

Chapter ?: An explanation of magic by Ian to Emma:

The light of the moon is the source of magic for the Earthen. However, very few people of earth have the ability or the knowledge to use it. And so it is transferred, recycled to our land where we could not exist without it. Magic drips from every leaf of every tree in Ambrosia. It pools in every dell...

Emma broke in, curiously. "You speak of magic as if it were a liquid, why?"

Well... it is rather hard to describe. It's something I've grown up knowing. It's like trying to describe color to a blind man.

Emma looked down, a bit put out at being considered so naive. Ian noticed and tried again.

Magic is a power. It travels through the Dreampath like a wire. Once it reaches Ambrosia it is absorbed by everything. It is the lifeblood of the land. Everything has a piece of magic in it. Except you.

"Does the magic just flow around me?"

Yes, said Ian, clearly pleased that she seemed to finally be getting it. It is rerouted around you. Don't worry. It makes you no less important.

"Thank you Ian."

May I ask you a question?

Emma was taken aback. "Well, yes, I suppose so."

Do you dream?

"Yes." then, "Do you?"

It is something I know little about. Dreams help the magic to enter the dreampath from Earthen. You, being from earthen are not in contact with the moon, but still you dream. Is anything absorbed? Is anything sent? Here, people dream by the whim of the Goddess. Even though some people in Earthen do not believe they dream,, they are still transferring magic. As here, those who do not directly use magic are always in contact with it. There seems no need for us to dream.

"I believe, " ventured Emma, " that Earthen dreams have more purpose than to transfer magic." Perhaps it has evolved, yes. You must also realize that it is possible, if Earthen destroys itself of the powersorce itself is killed, we will be no more. As long as people dream, magic will pour into our world. Luna is always constant with her supply, but we fear that she may outlast the human minds that transfer it to us.

"Only humans can transfer magic?"

Yes.

"Ian, again a question. What is a Shadowwalker?"

Ian paused. Yes, that is why you are here, I believe. The problem is, we do not know. Someone else has been entering the dreampath. They don't appear clear to us dreamkins. They don't appear at all to the minds. But they are sensed. Their interference, their presence. Dreamkins travel the flow, these entities plow right through, disrupting the current. We have no idea who they are, why they are doing it, or how.

"That's not much to go on."

I know. But we need to find them. It may be a danger to us. Once, a long time ago at the beginning of our lands time we elected a king. This man found it necessary to obtain more magic than others. A reasonable thought it seemed. He was king, was he not?

"I don't know. What happened?"

Using what powers he had here, he won the affection of a young dreamkkin. Here Ian faltered, as if speaking of a weakness in his kind was somehow below him. He then persuaded her to create a dreamfield around his palace. She achieved this by exerting much too much power and rendering her changelight useless. The palace acted like a blockade to the dream path. Nothing could enter or exit at all. Magic pooled up within the boundary of the dreamsphere. Luckily for us and the land at least, it was too great a build up. The solid matter - people, palace, everything within the field separated.

"Separated?" Asked Emma weakly.

A terrific explosion and one I'm sure that caused great harm to our early land. But the workers of magic set everything straight again. However, the guild of kins was formed at this time to regulate how powers should and must be used. That explosion shows just what a misused dreamfield can do. Now we are only allowed to use it around perspective minds, and around ourselves, for only short times. Which goes on to show what a frightful thing it is that a non-kin is toying with the dreampath as we speak!

Chapter 12? Emma waits for Jael:

Emma stood very still, hands folded in front of her. She shut her eyes. The wind tousled her brown curls as a cloud passed over the dim sliver of moon. The spectral trees hummed, her skirt slithered around her ankle and she was still alone, still as stone.

MY THOUGHTS:

To write a stinkin' fantasy you have to be an expert on history, mythology, psychology, geography...

Ambrosia bible and world building:
*****************************
Agriculture
Animals
Climate
Costuming, dress
Dreamkins
Educational system
Flora
History
Language
Magic system
Main characters
Major towns
Map
Merchant class
Metal, mining
Money system
Orbital bodies
Peasant class
Power structure : Governing bodies, politics, tax, trade
Religion
Royal class
Secondary characters
Story and plot of trilogy / series
Technology and science
Time, calendar, clocks
Transportation
Unknown
Visionary forest
Women in society


1. On Structure -

   Myths are strange things.

   Though I have invented many of my own, and I know from experience the liquid nature of storytelling, I am not a mythology major. I can't speak as an expert on myths or form my story as a documentation of the many branches of the mythology of a land because that framework would fall apart like a structure built of cards (and I am not that skilled an architect.)

   Still, that is how this story exists in my brain. I don't know where my main character came from, I don't know her age or her last name, I don't know if all the characters she associates with really exist. I am reaching to make the story dreamlike - like the country in which the story is set - Ambrosia.

   I guess I am as much an expert in the psychophysical realm of dreams as I am in the makeup of myths. Still, everyone has dreams. I am an expert in dreaming since I have done it every day of my life. And at a time, there were no experts. Before experts, there were storytellers.

   So how can I create a believable and interesting tale? I do need to know more about these airy sprites known as characters. Caspar D'julares for example - the first thought behind his creation as the head of Ambrosia was that he was a prince that use to be a stable boy. Interesting enough thought but when I got right down to writing his background story, it turned out to be more difficult than I thought. Then I thought maybe I should make him much younger, but that didn't seem to fit if I wanted him to be the only royalty. Much older? A woman? I ended up going back to the original story (see Sithwith below.)

   I have a vague and growing sense of the actual world of Ambrosia. I have world built it to a fairly believable point. See geography below.

   And my villain is quite well formed. I believe the story must then start with him.

2. On history -

   Did you know history is not taught in most schools anymore because no one can determine what to teach? I mean, I realize that "history is written by the winners," but I would think that a few well-placed "may have"s and "might have"s could at least teach kids who fought in what war.

   Anyway, it just happened that I have two main historians in my stories: Sithwith cartographer and scribe for the royal family and Jenavev the unwritten bard.

   Sithwith is a demon who records (supposedly) unbiased recounts of long past events i.e. the myths of the gods and goddesses. He does, however, get in a jab or two at the humans every once in a while. He is not necessarily immortal but has served as scribe for hundreds of years.

   Jenavev is a bard (traveling minstrel and storyteller) who writes more modern histories. He writes not just about Ambrosia, but about the other countries of the Whorled. He wears his badge "UNWRIT" with pride in the same way someone given a dishonorable discharge from the army doesn't.

3. On magic -

   The magic system of Ambrosia is weaving a web. There are different patterns that can be sketched out in books that people can learn. There are rules of tension, strength and adherence that must be obeyed.

   Also, magic has many liquid characteristics as you will see if you read about the founders Nickabar and Nyuben in Sithwith's recount. It can drip, pour and be held in a number of different sized objects. There is also a magic user's signature that can be used to trace who dealt with the magic last.

   I toyed with the idea of having magic originally be used by many different classifications of users but felt that it might get too confusing. The idea was to have the "founding parents" of modern magic be Krobe Majesset, a magic worker dealing with Earth magic otherwise known as a Wizard, Vestna, who deals in Air magic and is known as a Conjurer, Rhiket the Sorcerer (fire) and Sen D'aundari the Sage (water.) I have had three computers in my lifetime and this story is one that got lost as I shuffled from one computer to the next. I have reconstructed it to a point but haven't finished it yet. You can see it below under Sithwith.

4. On geography -

5. On language -

   Sigh... Mun or Moon (or Mune?), Selenite, Selenight or Selinite, moon pearl, Moonpearl, Munpearle??? It's insane.

   I have struggled with slang. Ciat is my over-all bad word, equivalent to "shit." Hell is evoked quite a bit - Hell's bedroom and hell's blood (AKA "bloody hell.") I don't have a "fuck" word yet (so I've just been using the "F" word.) In another story "bite" is the equivalent of "fuck" as in "bite me," "biting hell," "go bite your mother." I suppose I could use that here - but the background of this word in the other story (Telove) can be traced back to snakes (I even made up a "flippin' the bird" kind of gesture that was reminiscent of the fangs of a snake.) In this story, snakes have a whole other historical reference (see "flying snakes" in Ambrosia dictionary.)

   Also, my gypsies are no relation to the Roma of this world. I struggled to create an Ambrosian history of this group of people, knowing the origin of the word "gypsy" and the fact that some politically correct people even find the phrase "to gyp" (as in "I got gypped") offensive. Eventually I decided to keep the word "gypsy" for the image it conjures in one's mind. And since I am not trying to portray an actual group of people, I think I can get away with it. From a storytelling standpoint, the nomadic entertainer / animal trainer type of life (much like the mythical "noble Indian" character that is a distorted form of the native tribes of this county) has a great potential for romanticizing. As a society we have thrown a lot of our old ideas of adventure for fear of offending others. But much like Mickey Mouse bears little resemblance to a real mouse, human characters are just that - made up characters. An interesting little tidbit, the American Zoo and Aquarium association chose to create a fake animal to be their mascot, since they thought giving human characteristics to a real animal (anthropomorphizing) would be detrimental to the perception of zoo animals.

   Oh, and even after all that, I have to admit to having self-serving views, because I believe the Cleveland Indians baseball team mascot "Chief Wahoo" to be the most offensive racial image allowed in public today.

   Why do authors feel they have to justify their decisions in this way (see Diana Tregate mysteries by Mercedes Lackey)?

6. On money-

INDEX:
1. Dictionary

   3 (4) stages of kin - Transformation of Dreamkins: Human, Ave, Quadruped (e.g. wolf, horse)
   Alassi (Ah-LA-see) - Emma's mage created, mute bodyguard. Looks like a rhino with a beak or an oversized armadillo.
   Ambrosia - The dream country. Part of the Whorled - a planet that exists in another dimension from Earth. Capital = Serpentes, other cities = Price, Tiran, Nomia, Lighthouse
   Archmage - A magical rank determined by status, knowledge, age, and some knowledge of all four branches of magical study
   Asean Demonbayer (AY-see-on) - Ruler of the Unknown. Wants control of Ambrosia. Tries to corrupt Jael to use his merripen powers
   Ave - Flying animal, can enter highsleep as well as Earthen without a dreamfield. Cannot transport.
   Baen Elf (Bane)- Knows all languages, all means of communication
   Bethany Forest- Forest in Mid-southern Ambrosia, named after Queen Bethany who died within. Borders the Unknown
   Bombs, fire, lightning - fire
   Black Clothed Lady of the Night - Another name for the goddess Ath. Butterfly handlers - A type of gypsy entertainer
   Caspar D'julares - Once upon a time, as the story goes, he was the middle child of the royal family with no interest whatsoever in being king one day. He slept in the stable, was friends with the stableboys, and never let anyone call him "you highness". However, this all changed when the royal family, his sister and older brothers were killed by Asean. He was protected by the Moonpearl and pulled Ambrosia back from destruction. He became the ruling prince, not willing to take the title of King in honor of his father. Though he never was happy with the job, he took it as his fate to become the ruler and has done the job as best he could ever since. Would be the happiest if he were back in the saddle again. Strangely ageless. Blond straw like hair, glasses Possessor of the Moonpearl for only a short time. Iandrew is older but Cas acts older. Cas is more serious and studious than he used to be as a stableboy. Does not like to talk of his family. Envy of his dead father and brothers who he deep down thinks could do a better job than he. Cathis (KAY-thiss) - Cloud demons, watchers
   Centaur Hills - Reside of the centaur riders
   Centaur Riders - Wild horsemen of the hills. Spend almost all of their lives on horseback so that people use to think that they were conjoined with their mounts
   Changelight - The magic used to transform a Kin to and from the different forms. Eventually it fades until the kin can no longer travel the Path
   Clinčch- Warrior band
   Cloud Readers - Watchers of Cathis that interpret and philosophize
   Conjurer - Magic worker in Air. Deal with other realms and with vision. They speak with creatures of other worlds, but are not strong enough to travel there or pull others from there. Meditative trances help them to contact the realms. Powers include illusions, mind tricks, subconscious, float, wind
   Counterpart - Everyone has a double in an alternate universe
   Cyclo Palace - Old palace of Ambrosia
   Demonbayer - Sub category of warlocks. Conjuring skills to reach netherelms
   Death sleep - Unwakeable sleep. Where Kins traveling the Path can be caught
   Dream pyramid - Travelspace from Earthen to Ambrosia. Sometimes called the Path (though this is technically the name of the space traveled to get to the Dream pyramid)
   Dreamfield - Extension of Dreampath made by Kins to accept Eathens
   Dreamfield explosion - Cyclo Palace exploded when a dreamfield was created around it. The guild of kins was formed at this time to regulate how powers should and must be used. That explosion shows just what a misused dreamfield can do
   Dreamkin - Kin, shapeshifter, one who travels the Dream pyramid
   Dreampath - Collective magical path that leads from ground of Ambrosia or Earthen to and from dreamspheres and the dream pyramid
   Dream Thief - Possible title
   Earth - Mundania
   Earthquakes, mud slides - Earth (wizard) magic
   Earthen - Ambrosian term for people and things of Earth. Sometimes used instead of the world Earth (when referring to Mundania)
   Earthenworld - Another term like Earthen
   Emma Jaystral - One possible name of the Possessor in this story
   Emma Jentraue of Earthenworld - Another possible name
   Emma of Earthenworld - In one version, a depressed young Earthen girl, hates her life. Is sick of reality. Is sick of being teased (like going to a fantasyland is going to make things easier on her), sick of farm life but likes the country and knows a lot about it. Is actually the chosen one that will Possess the moonpearl and save Ambrosia from the Magic Thief. Doesn't understand why she was chosen. Actually, she is the only one who can understand Jael - she feels betrayed by her mother and father, but she sees in Jael how much worse things could be. Still, she also thinks he is overreacting and can stand the pain that he emits. He ends up getting very angry when she tries to touch him, because he likes her. Who knows why?
   Flying snakes - Nickabar and Nyuben brotherhood symbol, represents freedom and flight yet bound together, sign of opposite forces - black and white, sign of self - sacrifice - biting own tale, sign of unity - linked to each other, sign of infinity together. Sacred symbol of Ambrosian royalty
   Fourth form - Discovered by Jael - Halform (angle, centaur, werewolf)
   Floods, tidal waves - Water magic
   Glass Rainbow system - Glass money used in Ambrosia only: Amber (gold), Jades (silver) and Turks (copper)
   Guild of Kins - Group to regulate changelight usage. All Kins must belong to the Guild
   Gypsies - Nomadic musicians, entertainers, animal trainers of the Whorled
   Gypsum Woods - Well traveled woods in northeast and central Ambrosia
   Gypsy rhythm ponies - Slender deer-like dancing horses. Trained rhythm machine
   Gypsy Scripture (Gypsy Scrip) - Not sure...
   Gypsy Whistle - When a band travels, the whistle is used to determine if the group can continue. The strength of the whistled tune and its quality lets the leader know if his group needs to stop for the night
   High sleep - Top of the pyramid
   Higher Realm -
   Highness (other than a sovereign i.e. ruler or permanent head of state)
   Majesty (royal status)
   Excellency (high official i.e. governor, ambassador, clergy)
   Horsedrive master -
   Ian-Andrew - Brother of Jael, prince's private page and a Dreamkin
   Iandrew -
   Iandrew - younger brother of Jael. Does not remember his brother, only remembers a "monster" who hurt him by merely touching him when he was very small. Remembers his mother rescuing him, remembers moving from the forest where she had "exiled" herself and Jael to the city. When she moved to the city, the two were welcomed when she could prove that Iandrew was a "proper" Dreamkin. He was taken to be trained at the Guild of Kins at age seven. Very good looking Does not hate his mother, knows it was for the best that she gave him up to the guild. Envies those who have family Was made Page-a-Prince, the right hand Kin to the Prince, connects with the prince because the prince lost his family as well (at the hand of Asean) Is constantly trying to prove himself, deep-rooted fear of not being loved or liked. His horror is to have a life like Jael's. Fights an incomprehensible fear of speaking in public Selenight has been the dog at his heals ever since he entered the Guild. He knows it's for the best. Friendly
   Illusionist-
   Illusionist - still not working with the flow, but uses more magic than Magician
   Impasse - Bottomless gorge separating the Unknown from Ambrosia.
   Impasse - chasm between unknown and Ambrosia
   Jael - Half kin
   Jael Merripen
   Jael Merripen - Half kin. Merripen. His mother abandoned him at age 14. He was apprenticed by Asean, a Demonbayer who was not a merripen, but understood what one was and how to use Jael's power. However, Jael grew too powerful and defeated Asean. He took over as ruler of the Unknown, and area of banished dark magic. He then found a way to tap into the Visionary Forest and divert magic to heal himself. Hates his mother. Hates his brother. Self-made man Somewhat insane - killed Asean in part to gain power, in part because he didn't think the demonbayer was worthy of being the ruler of the Unknown, in part because he could Does more than anything want to be healed, but uses his pain as a defense. He knows that if he were healed he would loose his power, but secretly would be okay with this. Doesn't feel he needs anyone except as pawns to heal him and use before a) they die at his hand or b) he is healed and they kill him Jenavev - Bard unwrit, sentenced to be hanged, escaped noose
   Jezrac - Brother of Trisic
   Karavev -
   Kathis -
   Kinnian -
   Kinnian Karavev -
   Kins - spirit mind body heart
   Kins and the four part divinity
   Krobe Majeset -
   L'istesso -
   Lady Ath -
   Lady Ath - black clothed lady of the night
   L'istesso - Nickabar's rhythm pony
   Luna - goddess of the moon, supplier of magic
   Mage - Mastery of all 4 (5?) magic types. Rare.
   Mage - Rare, highest rank, knowledge of all
   Mage Dragons -
   Magic Users of Ambrosia: Magician - skills with little magic added, Illusionist - still not working with the flow but uses more magic than Magician, Apprentice to Conjurer - air, " " Sorcerer - fire, " " Wizard - earth, " " Sage - water, or (Ath forbid) Warlock - works in evil magic, taints, pain, death, sex, Demonbayer - conjures those from the netherealms, Archmage - status, knowledge, age, some knowledge of everything, Mage - Rare, highest rank, knowledge of all Magic Thief
   Magician -
   Magician - skills with little magic added
   Merripen - Life and death in gypsy. Name for a girl or a boy.
   Merripen - Life and Death in the Gypsy language
   Moonpearl
   Moonpearl - Nomad of the Moon. Oracle.
   Moonpearl - Pure Luna magic and knowledge
   Morgan - Mistaken as the possessor by Ian. She is Emma's little sister and is a lot of what Emma wishes she could be. Morgan does not judge, does what her sister asks (most of the time). Jael scares her.
   "Mother" - she is a woman who did not ask to be the vessel to the incarnates of Nickabar and Nyuben, the famed founders of Ambrosia and yin yang opposites. Still, she married young to a woodcutter and gave birth to Jael. He was a difficult birth and was born "cursed". The family was forced to leave town as bad luck and his father soon left. Mother was left in the woods alone with the baby. She tried to raise him well, but would leave him alone for long periods of time. She would go into town and sell herself for money. She became pregnant and had Iandrew, a true kin. As she raised the new baby, she began to ignore even more Jael. Finally, after Jael began to experiment with his changelight, morphing into hideous half-human creatures, and after Jael began to "attack" Iandrew, she left the "monster" as she saw him. Jael to her went from being a child to being a non-human creature. She could not see him as a human with a disability, which he truly was. She went to town, bringing her beautiful baby. She took him to the Guild of Kins at the urging of other members of the community and handed him over for training. Then she went away. She may still be alive, but no one knows for sure.
   Munpath-
   Naytan-
   Nickabar -
   Nickabar - Gypsy boy, dishonest trickster, Jael's contact, also a butterfly handler
   Nickabar - Works for Jael, is his connection with the area outside the Unknown. Thief, Gypsy, horsetrainer. Part of a huge family that does not look kindly upon thieves. He collects amulets that hold magic for Jael to store his stolen power in. For a time, Jael would repay Nickabar by making it possible for Lis'tesso, Nic's rhythm pony, to enter the visionary forest. However, as time goes on, the secrets Jael asks Nic to keep and the things he asks Nic to do grow to be too much and Jael begins threatening the boy.
   Nickabar and Nyuben - brothers, founders, saviors of Ambrosia
   The Night Mare
   Nomad of the Moon
   Nyuben -
   Oren
   Oren -
   Oceans - magic sponge, many crazy creatures within
   Palace City -
   Palace of the Djulares - Royal palace of Ambrosia.
   Person - common form, what they are born as, what they will die as. Only in Ambrosia is this transformation possible.
   Possessor -
   Prince Djulares -
   Queen Bethany
   Ravenblack
   Reavel -
   Regal Mountains -
   Rhicket -
   Rhythm Ponies -
   Sage - water
   Sage -Water. Doctors and alchemists.
   Scoundrel
   Second Earth -
   Selenight -
   Selinite - Albino kin, leader of the Guild of Kins, Egress
   Sen D'aundari -
   Sef
   Seth -
   Serapente - Town surounding the Palace of the Djulares
   Shadow Bird -
   Shadowwalker - A non-kin on the dreampath
   Silence and Shadow -
   Sithwith -
   Society of Thieves -
   Sorcerer - fire
   Sorcerer - Fire. Defensive magic user. Warriors with prayer, not meditation. They combust materials of all sorts, controlling arcs, darts, arrows, etc.
   Talon - Blacksmith, lover of Jenavev
   The Great Intrusion -
   The tigerfaced deer - A myth, this animal cannot interact with other deer so eats them, metaphor for merripen
   The Unknown -
   The Whorled-
   Time measurements: Upon a thought, Moment, Wren's Breath - second, Mark - hour, On the mark - on the hour, day, Phase - month, Season, year, distance in travel time, days by horse etc.,
   Thief of Magic
   Three forms - Dreamtravler - four footed animal
   Tigerfaced Deer - Myth surrounding the legend of Jael. A deer with the face of a tiger will never have any kinsman and sooner or later will resort to killing its own kind.
   Travel sleep - where kins can transport Earthens
   Travelspace - area for kins (See diagram)
   Trisic- Young boy disguised as a girl to avoid being found and killed by his older brother, the rightful owner to the land which Trisic's father wants to give to Trisic
   Tornado - air.
   Unknown - Black magic reside
   Unknown - Black magic reside
   Upperspace - where Luna resides
   Valence -
   Vestna -
   Visionary Forest -
   Visionary Forest - exit/entrance to Pyramid from Ambrosia
   Visionary Forest - Where the magic flows from
   Visionary Trees - Kins after Death?
   Vivian -
   Volven -
   Warlock - Worker in evil magics of death, pain, sexual, taints.
   Warlock - works in evil magic, taints, pain, death, sex
   Witch -
   Wizard - earth
   Wizard - Earth. To be a Wizard is to have control over the solid aspects of nature. They work with movement of soil, trees, and stone. They meditate to connect to all living and non-living things. Powers include terrain movement, animal mind control and speech, solid healing
   

   
   

2. History according to Sithwith, cartographer and scribe of the royal family.

   I'm glad you're still here. So many things, especially things kept in one's own mind, disappear after a while.

   Long ago, when the continent had no kingdoms or rulers, and the lands were untamed, magic flourished. It dripped like honey from every leaf, being, and star. It is said that then, Gods and Goddesses walked the mortal planes. All was chaos. It is suspected, but not known, that the Beyond was a part of early history as well.

   Then came the Lifting. Gods and Goddesses came to see themselves as far above the mortals and felt it wrong to live among them. The immortals moved away to the High Heavens (or perhaps, the Beyond?). All except one family. The Black Clothed Lady of the Night, Lady Ath, her husband, the mighty Oren, and their children known as a single being - Sef - stayed in the Low Heavens to watch over and protect all mortals; all creatures of the Whorled.

   Lady Ath created the Mune as her eye upon the world. Unlike Oren's magnificent fire or Sef's trillions of manifestations, her Eye could exist both night and day. She also brought into being Cathis - her messengers. When she could not watch over day, Cathis was sent. Also under her power, Cathis could grow even stronger than Oren, blocking out his fire for days.

   After the Lifting, the uncontrollable chaos took over everything. There was a period of utter confusion - mortals killed elves killed magedragons killed each other. Finally, two young mortal brothers, Nickabar and Nyuben found the source of all the trouble. It was the magic. It was out of control. It was too free, being used by untrained and evil, causing havoc as never before. They young brothers thought on sealing the world from the Beyond, but could see no way to do it. In desperation, they prayed to the Lady Ath. She came to them both separately and told Nickabar that the Beyond could be contained and transformed into a single gateway. To Nyuben she told that all those who were unable to purge themselves of the infiltration of evil magic were to be banished to an area eternally called the Unknown. No one of good heart or intention ever need know what existed there.

   The brother's spoke to each other about the tasks assigned to them. Both had used magic and knew the ways of weaving. Though it flowed like water and glowed without substance as light, it could be woven into spell. This was a problem with the early and very accessible magic - people experimented with wild patterns, never documented. Magic was thrust into places it should not be. Terrible things were happening due to all the careless use and mishandling. Unless magic is changed into something, such as force or fire, it is never lost. Magic could also be contained in amulets, staffs, cups, bodies...

   Nickabar soon found out that it would take the power of all true, wise creatures to build a web to compact the free magic into one source. The Visionary Forest, gateway to the Beyond and source of the flow of magic.

   After the completion of the visionary forest, angered creatures from throughout the world that had used magic so freely before, felt cheated. They came from the South, to the tiny glen of trees that made the Visionary forest and tried to undo it. Terrible things were said and done, magic yanked from every soaking stone and talisman. The Visionary did not allow anyone to use its power. Bloodstream magic was allowed, that which kept the grass green, the animals of magic alive, and the closely connected minds stable. But there was no more open magic for every person to see and touch and use.

   The rebels used all magic available to them from before the Visionary, then began to use blood magic. They found that when a magical animal or person was killed, their magic dissipated and could be caught and used. But this magic was many times tainted with its former owner's mark and did not always react the way its new owner wanted it to.

   Nasty things came of tainted magic and so the second foretold area of Lady Ath was constructed. The Unknown wasn't actually "created" as the visionary forest had been. Nyuben, Nickabar, and as many soldiers as could be gathered, forced through the use of counterspells (shields) evil magic back. Back until it could be forced back no further, and then some. The overload of push against the evil magic caused a gap to widen in the ground. The bottomless Impasse.

   Then, Nyuben died. Each brother had been an Avatar of the goddess, but Nyuben may have been weaker or his task harder, for he made the supreme sacrifice. He was, however, granted guardianship of the Unknown. It is his soul that keeps the Unknown contained. His boundary is one that will always be, for he was a devoted servant.

   Nickabar became the first ruler of Ambrosia. During his short term, sometimes called the "Reign of Discovery", he found that his kingdom was the only one reached by the Visionary's magic. The sea was to the southwest, the unknown to the south east, to the northwest mountain, and to the north, great and dangerous enchanted forests. Ambrosia was alienated geographically and magically.

   
   More from Sithwith:

   Note: Phrases such as "higher realms" and "black clothed lady of the night" were of course not in use when this story took place. However, common language of Ambrosia has been liberally added by the author for the overall effect and enjoyment of the tale.

   Once a time ago, outside the realm of the immortals, Earthen formed. Unbeknownst to even the immortals, a tiny (in the vast measure of things) silver gray sphere began to quietly orbit Earthen. Many thousands of years passed before Luna made herself known to the Gods. However, during those years, her power mounted. Until one moonlit night, a single solitary creature dreamed it's first primitive dream, and Ambrosia was formed.

   There were few witnesses to this event, but one of the few was Lady Ath. The trickle of magic was barely noticeable at first, only a slight shimmer in a not so far off realm below. It could have been anything. But this was newborn magic - and with a feeling stronger than any ever felt in the high realm. Another land was being formed, that Ath knew. She let herself drift towards the feeling and was amazed at what she saw. New hills and mountains, growing seemingly from absolute nothing. The power seeped from everywhere, yet no main source could be found. A new world appeared before her eyes without any obvious divine intervention.

   For a time, Ambrosia's origin remained a mystery. The gods and goddesses, hearing of the newly discovered area, investigated and questioned and finally found a strand of power they named Munepath, meaning Magic Path. Many brave immortals volunteered to follow the thread back to its source - Odin, for example. When they returned, they brought with them astonishing news of not only another world, but of the young and powerful goddess Luna who was creating Ambrosia. Eventually, many immortals traveled to the other world. Their given names were Mercury, Venus, countess others.

   Many, though, stayed in sunny, beautiful, Ambrosia. The newly formed land was indeed magically fashioned, it seems, to suit the tastes of the gods. And so, when some small and feeble mortals began to develop intelligence and language, ideas and thought, some outraged and insulted immortals left to return to the higher realms.

   Ath, however, and her family large, decided to stay. She felt a certain attraction and kinship to the Ambrosians. In order to be able to watch over the beings, bot day and night, Ath asked her warm and jolly husband, Oren, to heal and comfort the world during the day. At night, she would take over, though promising to be with Oren during his Day whenever she could. Their children, the many Sef, where scattered throughout the night to keep their mother company and watch when she was with Oren. Finally, Ath insisted Cathis, the sky demons, to be under her command, existing day and night at her will, covering up her or Oren or the both whenever she asked. And herein was born the eye of Ath, Moon of Ambrosia, the great and powerful Fire of Oren, the many twinkling eyes of Sef, and the ever-changing Cathis.

   Myth of the Four Magics

   Krobe Majesset = Earth / Wizard
   Vestna = Air / Conjurer
   Rhiket = Fire / Sorcerer
   Sen D'aundari= Water / Sage
   
   Krobe, seated in the farthest shadowy corner of the bar, was all but invisible. Shorter than most humans, rather squat and pugish, the old wizard twisted a curl of his waistlingth beard absently around one stubby finger. Someone had told him once that he probably had a dwarf or two way back in his ancestry; a fact which he didn't doubt in the least. That would account for both his shortness and his untamable gray chin adornment - the one slightly interesting feature on his otherwise uninteresting face. Long ago, his beard had been shocking red, giving most people at the time the impression that he was destine to become a sorcerer. However, when he started his wizards training, the beard quickly grew gray, as did his eyes, his skin and his temperament. Earth studies did that to a person, aged them a good twenty years passed their time. But now, being sixty, he'd gotten to the point where no body really cared how old he appeared.

   He picked up his mug of ale and swished the amber contents around in a spiral. Something was eating him, and no matter how hard he meditated on the feeling, he could not place it. The only explanation he could come up with was that he was getting sluggish. He still kept himself active doing daily chores and so on. But maybe, he thought, I'm just not moving around enough. His old master had told him a tale years ago that still haunted him. It haunted him because it was so possible. The tale told of an old wizard who found a nice, quiet spot in the middle of a woods somewhere, sat down to meditate and never stood up again. It seemed that he had been so full of earth magic that he simply became a part of nature. After practicing most of his life, Krobe was pretty certain that his body with coursing with such magic as well, and though he was a soulmate of the earth, he did not wish to become a part of it quite yet.

   "Last orders!" the barkeep yelled over the quiet din of the half dozen or so occupants of the tavern. It was Stodalies day and the bar was set for closure at sunset.

   "Wait!"

   The second voice triggered an alarm within Krobe. That was a voice of power, anyone of any status would be able to tell that. But more than power, the voice held magic, lots of it! But not earth magic, something much more unconstrained.

   "Ye wish to... order?" The barkeep's voice was considerably cautious.

   "No, I want a place to stay. For me and my companion. Right here."

   Krobe turned in his seat and gazed at the speaker. The young man had oil-black hair falling down and around his face. Beneath the hair was a pair sharply pointed ears, adorned with numerous rings. The whole appearance of the figure, from his firelit eyes to his polished leather boots that reflected every bit of light in the room, screamed sorcerer.

   The barkeep seemed to be having trouble focusing on the young man's face, for he stumbled and stuttered around his words until finally he got most of his sentence out. "Its.. er this is just, ah... ah bar. Not an inn. We, I..."

   "Excuse me, please." Krobe said, his voice as calm and collected as always. "I do believe you are talking to the wrong man."

   "I need a place to stay." the sorcerer repeated again. Krobe nodded. Masters of the fire element many times made bad impressions on people not accustom to their abruptness or temperaments. And this sorcerer seemed to have a bit of the fay thrown in to complicate matters even further.

   "Come with me then. The inn is down on the next block if you wish, but I think we'd all feel more comfortable if you and whatever companions travel with you stay with me." He motioned for the man to follow. The elfish form hesitated only briefly, then followed. As the wizard started out the door, Krobe asked, "You're a sorcerer then?"

   "Yes." There was a hiss on the end of the young man's word. He passed though the doorway, much to the relief of the barkeep, who's sigh could be heard quite a distance away. "I am Rhiket, Sorcerer from Redbrook." He waited expectantly, and Krobe took the hint.

   "Krobe Majesset of Gingham Hill, wizard."

   Riket stopped with a short, jerky motion. "You are a wizard?"

   Krobe turned. "Yes, I am." Rhiket shout our a slender bejeweled hand which hit a little high on Krobe's chest, causing him to loose his breath momentarily.

   "Prove it."

   Krobe was beginning to feel just the slightest bit put off by the sorcerers strange communication skills. It seemed Rhiket talked mostly in commands, not question as wizards were taught to. But no matter, Krobe thought, if that's how sorcerers are than that is how they are. He calmly extended a hand from his thick green robes and held it out over a small patch of dirt road, palm down. There was a grumbling noise, like far away thunder and a thin column of earth rose to meet his fingertips. With a second thought, he sent the soil back into the ground.

   "There. Do you believe me?"

   "Of course. I assume I don't have to prove anything to you." Again, it was a statement, not a question.

   "No. I could tell you were a magic user the moment you entered the bar. It didn't take long after that to see you worked with the fire element."

   Rhiket made a `humph' noise and pushed past the wizard. "Then it will be safest staying with you." He took a few steps and then turned, looking back at Krobe's squat form. "I like wizards. You, uh, like sorcerers?"

   Krobe studied him in the dim light of the dying sun and the rays of a dozen or so house windows. "Like them? I've never meet one before. You are the first."

   "Yet you recognized me as one." He `harrumphed' again. "You are quite powerful, Krobe Majesset."

   Krobe was about to answer when a being peaked out from around the corner. The perfectly smooth, milk-white face of a young woman came into view, then a thin arm reached around the corner of the building. "Rhiket?" she asked and her voice, like that of the young man, rang with power.

   "Come out Vestna. Look, I have found a wizard." Her eyes lighted with an inner blue and widened as she stepped fully into view. For one of the first times since he'd began studying wizardry, Krobe felt a stab of passion, of longing for the opposite sex. She was clothed in a simple white dress, which fell about her fair body like mist over a lake. Her hair was unbound and fell in a cascade of gold over her slim shoulders. When she stepped she seemed to be treading on clouds, for her footsteps were light and springy, even on the hardpacked road.

   "Hello, I am Vestna, conjurer."

   Krobe felt her voice flow over him like a warm breeze. To him, her element of study was even easier to discern. How many times had he sat on his old, solid rock, in the middle of his green woods, starring up into the sky and watching the birds pass him by. He had felt the wind ruffle his hair, seen the leaves stirred by it, listened to its howls and its whispers. For such reasons, he felt that he had known her for a very long time. He took her extended hand lightly and kissed it. He gave his name and occupation and waited hopefully for even the slightest hint that she felt the same way about him.

   But the young face simply held the same smile and nodded. Rhiket explained to her that he had found a resting spot for the night and that it was with Krobe. She didn't seem at all surprised.

   "Wise. In such a small town as this, I would doubt that they have many visitors such as ourselves."

   "Not hardly. I can't tell you how many years it has been since I have seen or spoke with another magic user. And here, two in one day! If you are not too tired, I would love to talk with you a bit before you retire."

   "We are thankful for your kindness, Krobe Majessic. We will be glad to tell you whatever you wish. If you will allow us to fetch our belongings, we will follow."

   Suddenly giddy with the thought of something new after all the years of monotony, Krobe lead his two new guests though the town and passed the city limits, out to his small, stone hut atop Gingham Hill. Once he had led his visitors inside and had them settled in the roughly hewn wooden chairs around his fireplace, he went to fetch a bit of refreshment. When he returned with a round of cheese and a loaf of bread, three wooden cups and a small bottle of wine, he was surprised to find his fireplace roaring.

   "I hope you do not mind, Rhiket really does catch chill easily." Vestna still sat on her chair, making even the crude piece of furniture appear a throne. The sorcerer, however, was crouched near the blaze at a distance Krobe knew would have scorched anyone else.

   "As long as you can keep it under control, I do not mind."

   "I like wizards, remember." Rhiket said in his strange mix of harshness and grace. "I pledge to you that I have never in all my forty years set alight a tree."

   Krobe's ears were not too old and deaf to recognize that subtle bit of information. So it was true that sorcerers aged in the opposite way wizards did. The man appeared no more than his late twenties! That left the young woman. Was she too in her later years, or was she as she appeared, a model of youth?

   Krobe set the food down his table, merely a wide treestump set in the center of the room. "Well hear you are. I know not when you last ate but please feel free to eat your fill."

   The two graciously accepted his offerings and as soon as every one was contently sipping their wine, Krobe began.

   "This town is well off the heavily traveled inner roads. Rarely do we get visitors and when we do, they are usually journeymen or wanderers. You two must obviously have some greater purpose."

   "Well you see, Rhiket and I are pilgrims. It is our wish to travel to the holy city of Jerocia to the Temple of Lady Ath."

   This piqued Krobe's interest. Jerocia was far, far South but not unreachably so. There had been a few times in his life when he had felt the desire to travel there and pray at the Moon Altar, to thank or give praise to the great force that had granted him his magic. But he had always found excuses to prevent himself from embarking on such an excursion. "Surely this is not the shortest route there. Why travel such a roundabout way?"

   Rhiket stood from his position by the fire and the flame dimmed considerably. Of this Krobe was glad, he was beginning to sweat. The sorcerer stood behind Vestna's chair and pointed to himself. "Fire." He then pointed to Vestna. "Air." The finger then shifted and pointed in Krobe's direction.

   "Me?" For the second time that day, Krobe was startled. Surprises seemed to be coming in pairs.

   "You. Magical pilgrimages usually journeyed in foursome. However, this one began differently. Vestna and I started it out in Redbrook. We are..." his sentence faltered, as a candleflame does when a hand brushes past it. "We are a couple and we wished to ask the Lady's blessing before we married. However, visions came to us both the night before we set off."

   Vesna continued. "Mine was of a torrential thunderstorm. I remember standing beneath the clouds, smiling up at the sky as the rain washed over me."

   "I dreamt of huge stone pillars and a brazen firepit. I lit a fire within it and the fire continued to burn, even though I feed it no fuel. You can see the main components of each dream relate almost directly to another element in the magical arts. We took the visions as signs from the Lady to conduct our pilgrimage as a true journey."

   Krobe sat for a long time, not really sure what to make of the whole affair. Dreams, visions, signs; he had always thought such things were the creations of an idle brain. But here before him were two magic users of a caliber equal to, if not exceeding, his own. He answered slowly. "I have had no such dreams or visions. The Lady has never spoken to me directly. Could it be perhaps that you have the wrong wizard?"

   Vestna floated to her feet. "My doubts are high. You are the only wizard we have encountered on our travels thus far, and we have been though all the major and minor towns from Redbrook to here."

   "But that cannot be," Krobe said, "I know for a fact that a number of wizards reside not far from here!"

   "If they do, then they didn't show themselves to us." Rhiket put his arm around Vestna and with a bit of a heartache, Krobe could see that they were made for each other. He seemed rough perhaps, but was obviously delicate beneath. She was calm but had the powers of the winds at her back. Krobe suddenly felt a pulling urge to join them.

   Could it be some sort of combined magic? He thought suddenly, Are they attempting to seduce me into some greater plan? Though I do not feel any solid reason to distrust these two. Besides, what else am I to do here? Perhaps it is time I made the pilgrimage.

   "I cannot say yes now. You may bed down right here if you wish. Tomorrow morning I will let you know my answer." If in fact I get one.

   The two smiled in unison, a smile of love shared by two. Krobe Majesset bid them goodnight, then went to seek a spot for meditation.

   ****

   Three days later, they were on their way South.

   Krobe had gotten the answer he needed in meditation. Most likely it was not a direct message from the Lady, but it was close enough. In it he saw himself travailing with three figures and arriving in the sacred town of Jerocia. There was the Temple, wide and white but somehow changed. When he thought about it latter, Krobe realized the Temple had been backwards, facing the west insted of the east. Although his first thought was to ask the others about it, it soon slipped from his mind as he began packing.

   They left early, each weigned down with a small pack of nessesities. A true pilgramage was one traveled light and without any beasts of burden. By midday, Krobe was beginning to wish the rules were different.

   "I am so sorry, newfriends. I slow your progress. Perhaps I was not ment to travel so far, for I am old and slow."

   "Nonsence!" chirped Vesna, breezing past him as easily as a cottenseed. "We shall learn patience, it is good for us. Sorcerers and conjurers rarely meditate and many times I think we are moving too hurriedly along in this life."

   Krobe rested against his ancient oak staff and caught his breath. "Where is Rhiket? Is he so far ahead that I cannot see him? Hmmm, he is, I feer, the one who needs to slow down. I doubt his pace is any good even for a sorcerer."

   Vestna laced her white fingers together and sighed. "It is partly the elf in him, neiether of us understand it completely. He once lived in hiding with an elven clan but was found by trappers one winter and imprizoned. They found his firestarting talents most useful in the blizzards and snowstorms of the north."

   "Imprizoned!"

   "Yes," Vestna let a tiny smile creep onto her lips. "But not for long. He turned their wagon and all their precious furs to ash one night. Luckilly they were not in the wagon at the time. Anyway, he eventually found his way to a town and after that, to a sorcerers university. Then to me."

   "Please stop me if I pry, but how did you two come to be together?" A bold question from a curious old man, he thought, lets just hope that's how she views it.

   Vestna didn't seem to mind. "A sorcerer and a conjurer, air and fire, how do they come together? Unfortunatly, it is no bards tale. We met each other during war. Perhaps you remember, all magic users were summoned when Asean the Demonbayer attacked the Royal Palace. Rhiket and I worked side by side, combining magic spells to force the summoned creatures back to their respective realms. We found that our forces melded incredibly well and after it was all over..." She shrugged like a child, though Krobe now knew her to be as old as the sorcerer. The Asean Incedent happened ten years earlier and if she had been able to perfome combining spells with one of another element, she was obviously well trained.

   Just then, Rhiket appeared on a knol above them. "Aray! Come on you! I've found a spring just through the woods a bit!" He disappeared again and Krobe gave an exhausted sigh.

   "Well not to dampen you any, but I'm glad I don't have to spend the rest of my life with someone as flighty as that."

   She laughed and nudged his shoulder lightly. "Rhiket is wonderful, he really is. Sorcerers you know are the most likely to veer towards the dark magics. That man you just saw is as unlikely to turn to such forces as you are. No doubt on this journey you will find that true. A complecated man, but a good one."

   "And you do love him?"

   His voice betrayed him, for it was ment to be a statement. Vestna shot him a questioning glance. "Yes I do, with all my soul I do."

   The silence that followed was unberable, and Krobe was glad when they finally arrived at the spring. Rhiket waited nearby, immpationently.

   "Aray, at this rate we'll reach Jerocia next autumn!" Vestna ignored him and went to drink from the crystal, bubbling fountin.

   "Are they suppose to look like that?" Krobe asked, watching the water rise and fall in a showering spurt. "I've never seen a fountian in a forest before."

   "It's a spring, naturally occuring, believe me. Ambosia is scattered with them. Some say they are suppose to be magical, but the only magic I can find about them is that they flow though every season."

   Krobe turned to the sorcerer and raised his wooly eyebrows. "You meen they never freeze?"

   "No," Vestna came up to him, whiping her mouth. "And they are delicious! Here, let me fill your canteen."

   She took it from him and set it under the flow. "Shall we continue this way, or do you think we should head towards Yesric?"

   "I have never heard of such a town." Krobe took a moment to ajust his pack to a less uncomforable position. "Would you know what direction that is?"

   "I watch though the eyes of birds, wizard, I know all towns."

   "Oh," was all he said. He was beginning to feel that there was much he didn't know, especially about other magic users. All he thought he knew about such people now was appearing a meer scrape on the surface to what there really was to know. If anything, he thought, this will be a good learning experience.

   Rhiket paced the edge of the woods, dissapeared for a moment, then retured. "No, this is good. We should continue streight south for the rest of the day, then make camp. Right then, come on, Aray."

   Aray, an elven word. So there is still the fay within. Krobe contacted the earth rythems beheath his feet and asked for an easy path. This is going to be interesting, if not dificult as well.

   ****

   Things went well for the first days. The three travelers fell into a routen. Krobe had been beginning to feal very useless - Vestna was a flawless navigator, Rhiket was an obvious leader. But Krobe found that his talent for camping impressed them both. Since he had entered wizardry, Krobe had learned how to make the most of his surroundings, weather it was for a day or weeks of stay. Now he found his knowlage usefull in finding comfortable areas safe from weather, beasts, thieves and other such inconvieneances.

   "Hey! What was that?" Rhiket sat streight up in his bedroll. His pointed ears pricked upwards like a dogs and he strained to see into to shadowy, moonlit darkness.

   "I heard it too," Krobe said, feeling around with his wizard's sences. "It sounded like an animal but..."

   The sorcerers scream cut throught the quiet of the night and Krobe lept to his feet as quickly as his old joints would let him. The dim night suddenly exploded into an orange fireball and Krobe had to shade his eyes from the chaos. When he looked again, Rhiket was standing wildeyed with his back against a tree, hands braced before him in defence. His item of attack could not be seen.

   "What is it?" Krobe whispered, grounding himself in preperation for any sort of attack. He could barely make out a large, misty form some few steps away from Rhiket, but his magic sight picked up no imprint.

   "I don't..." As the sorcerer tried to speak, the creature leaped for him. There was another blaze of orange light as Rhiket ignighted the air around him in a fireshield. By the glow, Krobe finally saw the thing. It was larger than a wolf, but not quite as tall as a man. A beast not of natural creation, covered with fine, white hair singed in a few places. Around its muzzle were traces of blood.

   Rhiket regained himself once again and yelled. "Where's Vestna?"

   Doing a quick search of the disturbed camp, Krobe saw no sign of her.

   "Krobe!"

   "I don't know! She's not here..."

   Two auful thoughts hit him in quick succession and he felt his mind go slightly numb. The first was the possibility that the creature had somehow stole away with Vestna and had returned with a blood lust. The other idea was worse.

   Rhiket seemed to have the same thought. "Goddess no!" The creature leaped and in his stunned state, the sorcerer went down. "Vestna! It's me! Stop this!" But his cries fell on deaf and dumb ears. The white werewolf snarled and clamped its jaws down on Rhiket's arm. He screamed but would not fire.

   Krobe suddenly realized how serious the situation was. In her changed form, Vestna would have no will, if in fact it was Vestna. And Rhiket was taking no chances of harming his love. Grabbing a large treebranch, Krobe broke it free. Charging it with his earth energy, Krobe threw the branch towards the tumbling werewolf. It hit its mark and with a crack, the wolf fell silently to the ground.

   Rhiket, panting and almost mad with emotions, pulled himself from undernieth the fallen beast. "What... Vestna... is it...?"

   
   Story of Caspar D'julares "jew-LAR-ehs"

   Morning sunlight danced in through a hole in the barn wall, floating through the oat-dusted air like a parade of miniscule fairies. They filtered down in a column of yellow- white light and lit upon the face of a young, sleeping boy. The figure did not awaken as the gentle rays first played across his face, but as the great sun Oran rose, the beam intensified and was soon too bright to ignore. The boy turned with a sleepy moan, stretching out his gangly frame on the bed of loose hay. The light scattered like sand from a broken hourglass, alighting on every speck and particle of disturbed dust. Cas sneezed.

   He sat up in the loft, lacing his fingers together and pushing them out before him until his knuckles popped. Yawning as yet another day of stablework dawned for him, he rose and dusted his loose jerkin of all stray pieces of hay. Still logy with sleep, he made his way slowly to the ladder leading to the stalls below. He descended quickly, pausing only to glance about the huge penning of animals.

   The menagerie was impressive; horses thin and graceful which the king used when hunting, destryers- the mighty carriers of fully armored knights, rhombii- woolly cattle creatures, even a kitheta that had been given as a gift by Lord Relea. Cas nodded to himself, all in perfect order. What else would one expect from a stable of the royal family?

   Cas let himself out of the dim enclosure of the barn and blinked in the bright morning sunshine. Nighttime dew evaporated from the ground, filling the stableyard with a low blanket of fog. As the boy, lean and strong, nearly sixteen years of age, strode across to the well, small white clouds puffed up from his footsteps. He looked about him and his eyes fell upon the towering, white-blue spires of the Royal Palace. The towers were tall and graceful, like needles pointing heavenward, attempting to impale the sky. The back of the Palace was not far from the stables, only separated by a wide cul-de-sac.

   Who in all of Ambrosia would have imagined that a dirty beggar in three years could become a strong, well paid stablemaster to the King? Cas barely could believe it himself, and it had happened to him! Three years ago, he thought absently, was it really that short a time? No one would recognize him now; well clothed, well cared for, with a roof over his head and a dozen or more beasts under his care.

   Cas had been struck by, and there was no other word for it, obscenely good luck. Things could've been so different. What if he hadn't wondered into the royal courtyard, dazed and confused in a freak, sudden and nasty storm? What if the guard had not been kind enough to allow him to rest in the covered guardhouse. Cas was sure he had looked like a twice drown and beaten rat, and it was not common practice for beggars to be allowed under royal roof. That would be ludicrous. The Palace would be overrun with orphans, scalawags, loosers, thieves and the like. No, Cas had been lucky.

   Luckier still was the arrival of the king, back from a weather ruined hunting trip. Escorted by nobles, bodyguards and even an invited baron or two, why had the King taken time to stop and talk to the Gatekeeper? Why had Cas noticed, and then mentioned the rapid breathing and bloated appearance of the Kings mount? Why had the King in turn handed the reins over without question, assuming Cas was just another nameless stableboy? Why Why Why. How many times had Cas asked himself these question? There was no way to tell. All he knew for certain was that he had been allowed to stay, a replacement stablehand for the boy who had fed the Kings mare soured grain. And here he was, three years later, a stablemaster, training stablehands of his own. It boggled the mind.

   Coming to the well, Cas drew a bucket of clear, cold water. Cupping his palms, he splashed a few icy handfulls onto his face and over his hair. The shock of the water dribbling down his neck made him shiver, despite the ever- rising sun which was already beginning to burn away some of the early fog. He then hefted the bucket and went to start his chores.

   ****

   "Asean's building force again," Geoffry said through a mouthful of gruel. The younger stableboy gazed levelly at Cas, who sat across the breakfast table. Cas stared back, his spoon paused over the dish.

   "What are you talking about?"

   Geoffry smiled a pudgy grin and mopped up the rest of his gruel with a chunk of bread. There were few servants still at the table and those that were sat a distance away from the two boys. Geoffry stuffed the bread into his mouth and wiped what escaped away with his sleeve.

   "Well I got this friend, an Illusionist, 'n he says that that mad Mage is hiding all those conjured creatures somewhere in the south." He spoke as if it were the most guarded of secrets, and Cas couldn't help but scoff.

   "Bah, an Illusionest! What would he know? They aren't even connected with the Flow!" He took a swig of his watered wine and scrapped the rest of his meal from the plate. "And besides, Asean is a deamonbayer, not a Mage."

   When Geoffry spoke, there was a tiny trace of hurt in his voice. "And how do you know so much? You, a stablemaster hu? What do you know about all this?"

   Cas stood and picked up his plate and cup, downing the last of his drink. With a calm, collected slowness he said, "Nothing." Then he turned and headed for the kitchen. Geoffry followed, swiping a discarded roll from the far end of the table before departing.

   With a sort of adolescent arrogance, Cas tossed his dishes carelessly into the sink. His plate landed hard against a glass bottle and he winced at the sound. Luckily the bottle didn't break. Geoffry, with measured care, set his dishes down on the counter for the kitchen girls to take care of. Cas eyed him a moment, then pushed open the side door and went out into the yard.

   The fog had long since been steamed away and sunlight was set thick over the land. A warm wind was blowing, ruffling both boys' hair as they walked across the great, stone circle.

   "Cas!" Geoffry trotted up to his friends side with a pleading look on his pudgy face. "You did hear someth'n didn't you?"

   Cas paused and looked as if deep in thought. He moved off to a grove of shadetrees and leaned against one of the thick, smooth trunks, crossing his arms. "Ya. I take it you want to hear?"

   Geoffry's look said all that was needed.

   "Alright, well first of all, I was serious. That magician friend of yours knows little more about the Flow of Magic than what most people in Ambrosia do." Before Geoffry could open his mouth in protest, Cas said, "Okay sorry, Illusionest. Really, only the higher level magic users and their apprentices can tell what's going on in the Flow, and those directly connected with it. Asean conjured up a slew of creatures yes, from a far realm. That's what demonbayers do. But he has them hidden and, it seems, hidden not in this world, but in some pocket of magic somewhere. Undetectable to anyone connected to the Flow."

   "Even Kins?"

   Cas's face grew stern and cold. "Shh!" he hushed. Slowly, melodramatically, he surveyed the area. The yard was fairly open with a few clumps of trees on either side of the circle. Wandering rather aimlessly around the area were a dozen or so servants; fetching water, talking quietly or just enjoying the day. Geoffry looked insulted.

   "What's the problem?"

   "Mind what you say, anyone over winetaster status has been mighty touchy these last few days. One slip of the tongue and they'll have you drilled like a well for information. We shouldn't even be talking about this, really. The whole Asean incident is suppose to be kept under lock and key."

   For a moment, Geoffry mulled this over in his mind, then began, "Well if it's such a secret how did..."

   Then he noticed that Cas was no longer looking him in the eye. He followed the older, taller boy's line of sight and tried hard to contain his gasp.

   Striding across the cul-de-sac was a Dreamkin. It moved like a black stream, a shadowy, unreal form, gliding more than walking. The boys gaped. A Dreamkin, defenders of Ambrosia and the Flow. connected, it was said, by a special bond both to each other and to Lady Ath, the Black Clothed Lady of the Night. Kins were a rare sight, even around the Palace. Cas himself had only seen them in guard form before, and that had been from a distance. The world seemed to fall silent as the figure moved across the yard. Every eye was on it. It was impossible to tell whether it was a male or a female, for all Kins wore identical, hooded garments.

   Cas shook himself and remembered his manors. Trying not to stare as the figure passed him by, he watched from the corner of his eye. The Kin went to an abutted corner, where the kitchen jutted out to the yard, and paused in a tangle of shade and shadows. Then, after hesitating for a mere breath, the form... melted.

   "Did you...?" With a wave of his hand, Cas silenced Geoffry's distant voice. He watched in wonderment, waiting with his heart in his throat for the Kin to appear again. Suddenly, there was a heavy beating of wings and an enormous black bird rose in a curving arc skyward. It seemed to fly without opposition, climbing in an impossible fashion almost straight into the sun. With a harsh scream which would ring in Cas's memory for many nights afterwards, the Kin disappeared from view.

   Geoffry, struck dumb by the spectacle, stared like a blind man into the sun. Cas shook him by his shoulder and whispered, "Come on."

   When Geoffry did not move, Cas grabbed him by the arm and lead him half way back to the barns before the boy shook his chubby wrist free of the grip. In silence they hurried on. There had been others in the yard, some had seen the Dreamkin in human form, some had seen the bird. But only the two young stableboys had seen the transformation.

   
   

3. Jenavev

   Story of Jenavev

   "Stop staying things you can't finish. Every day I see you whittling away at your time, taking your days as if they were free and ever forthcoming. Well they are not, and I should know."

   "You should know! Who is it who survived certain death to live another day and another day and another day…"

   "Days will not just keep coming. You have to make something out of them. Something tangible, not just idol memories."

   "You are a blacksmith. You work in tangibles. I am a poet and a songwriter and a musician. I haven't the knowledge to put my thoughts down on paper and so they must forever stay intangible."

   Jenavev paused, waiting for another stinging accusation of sloth to come at him. But Talon was silent, his furry brows knit together in a look of brooding concentration. Jenavev took the opportunity to beat a quick and silent retreat. He didn't feel like wrestling words anyway.

   Talon didn't make a move to stop the young man from his exodus. Yet his hand was clenched, balled into a furious fist. He wanted to hit something. Not the delicate, fine, bird-boned face of the young bard necessarily, but it was a good thing Jenavev left before any harm could be done. No doubt out 'neath the apple blossoms of the orchard, tuning gentle notes on his uni. How much longer would they go on like this? How much longer could it be allowed, be accepted, be tolerated? Talon didn't like the way things were going. Jenavev never went into town anymore. He never played for Talon on those long nights anymore. He had no visitors or friends or even so much as a pet. And Talon was too busy with his own work, his own life, to do more than exchange angry, heartfelt, bitter words every now and again with him.

   Jen did have his uni under the apple trees, but he was not tuning it. He was concerned. How much longer could he allude the scrutiny and concern of Talon, a lover he barely slept with any more. How long could he keep up the charade of fear, saying he could not enter the village on the chance that someone might recognize him, a journeyman perhaps. It was bunk. And where was Electrn?

   Suddenly a mighty black hawk, one that would normally appear in shades of molt browns and gray, soared noiselessly out of the blue sky. It cut through the air at an angle, in direct path with the bard reclining beneath the tree. Jen didn't flinch, even as the bird narrowed in and stretched out its legs, talons viciously outstretched like weapons of war. As it neared the ground, it made a slight movement with its wing tips, as if brushing aside gently the bothersome insects of late spring. But with that movement, the form uncoiled in a swift and liquid movement. And what actually touched down was hooded human figure clad in tight black leather.

   "It's about fucking time," Jenavev growled as the figure bent to catch its breath. "I was out here at dawn, and then Talon took me aside for one of his bloody lectures."

   The figure stood and threw back the hood. The face was smooth and a deep olive tone. Electrn threw a pleading glance from his dark slanted eyes at Jenavev's florid face. "You don't want to hear it," he said, proceeding to spill out his excuse. "I have been out all night in ave, perched up in a tree in Bethany with one eye on the Impasse and the other tuned to the flow. Selenight is passed out after uncountable hours in connection with the flow and to top it all off, no one knows a damn about what the hell is happening." "So it was a worthless waste of time is what you are telling me." Electrn turned an exhausted look of distance on the bard. Jen got to his feet and spit out the piece of grass he had been nervously chewing, the only break in his otherwise flawless exterior of utter disconcert. "Just say you're sorry for standing me up this morning and let it be." The Kin rubbed his jaw, not having the strength or stamina to be furious. "I'm bloody well sorry, you maggot faced eel. While you were peacefully sleeping with your large and harry lady love, I was busy conducting an all night observation of the cesspit. Now what did you find?" "Fine. The girl's name is Leda. She works for a band of gypsies as a young palm reader. Yesterday, running like a whiphound I mustn't fail to mention, I caught up with the band as it passes through the woods. Thanks to those stars you lent me, I convinced them I was making my journeyman's circuit." "Don't let me hear you mention those stars, if word of that ever gets out…" "Hold your feathers, I won't say a word." They moved off silently across the field. *** "It is a bit like an affair then. You use your loose pants to loosen lips." "And my unfailing boyish charm and my silver tongue I might add." "You think this is funny?" "No, I think it is horrible and you were never to know of it." "Never to know!" he roared. "Do you think I am nothing more than an animal living in this forest? Don't you think I would have eventually heard about the Impasse?" "Even when and if you did, I would have no tie to it. The fact of it all is, I couldn't very well tell you of my involvement if I didn't too tell you of my duties. My tongue couldn't hold the lies tight enough to keep you from getting suspicious. So instead I told you nothing and counted on your low worth of me to keep me safe." "I have high regard for you," "Half heartily put and not convincing in the least." Jenavev's eyes burned with a hurt that didn't enter into his voice. Talon saw and was ashamed. But at the same time, he had a pain in his heart as well. "I guess I wasn't enough to keep you." "What is hell is that suppose to mean?" "You couldn't keep your legs together because I didn't part them enough." "You, oh my god on high no." Jenavev's eyes grew into dinner plates and before Talon knew what was happening, the bard's thin form was pressed against him. Talon hugged back without thinking, then tried to draw back as the bile of truth welled within his throat. "Talon, please, please. It has nothing to do with that. With you, us." His voice was harsh with emotion. Talons though mostly it was anger, but when he forced himself back, he saw Jenavev's blotchy cheeks were wet and puffy and utterly unattractive. Story recorded by Jenavev of West Area Karavi in this year high of nine and four, day nine before the first black night. It is already recorded that two lands still possess what is known as the old magic. Those kingdoms, if they can be called that since one is ruled by a prince and the other is inhabited souly by creatures and no people, are Ambrosia and Vivian. In a time of old, magic was used throughout the inter world. However, if you search elsewhere in this volume you will find out how Ambrosia became separated from the rest of the world and the royalty put in charge not so much to defend Ambrosia from others, but from itself. Ambrosia houses both sources of magic, the Visionary forest and the Unknown. The royalty is the appointed guardian of both. Lady Ath, force over night and magic, originally presented the Moonpearl to the first ruler of Ambrosia. She also gifted certain unborn children with special old magic and they were called Dreamkins. Kins served her as did the Moonpearl. Their special magic was Shapeshifting. Kins help those who help Ambrosia and also serve as councilors for the royalty. They number few. All kins automatically belong to the guild of kins, lead by a chosen kin leader. The kins are the only known beings that can travel the visionary forest, which is the gateway through which magic passes. Without magic, systems throughout earth, sky, sea, and fire would fail and every land would be affected. Visionary power is too great for any being except a kin to travel through. Therefore, when Selinite, guild leader of the kins, noticed a fluctuation in the flow she found it quite necessary to conference with prince Djulares, stableboy who 12 years earlier had been chosen as prince. He confirmed what Selenite had said - not only was he getting reports from magic-users from both Ambrosia and Vivian, but the moonpearl had been acting up of late as well. Information was vague - magical creatures simply couldn't explain what they were feeling to non-magic users. So - the Prince called his personal kin, Ian, to investigate the woods. Ian came back with some disturbing news. The dreampath or flow was being tampered with. Somehow, someone had found a way into visionary and tapped the flow. The worst part was that only a kin has the power to do this. Selinite had all kins accounted for. A mystery. Prince Djulares was further troubled when the moonpearl began sending him pictures of a girl he did not know. The moonpearl had re-chosen a possessor and it was the Princes duty to find her and present her with the oracle. He again sent Ian out to find the girl and bring her to the palace. Unbeknownst to her, Emma Jentraue, an adopted daughter of a large goatherding family, was just journeying him from the fair of the four seasons. Emma had been found 17 years earlier a mere infant, on the outskirts of the visionary forest. She was now journeying back up the mountain of Setsun to the west. She, her older half brother Valence and two servants camped out for the night in a baron meadow. During the night, the two servants tried to slit Valence's throat and made off with their wagons and all their goods. Luckily, Emma had taken the coin from the hidden compartment the day before. She went to help her brother, but just when they seemed overpowered, a dark figure intervened. The family of Jael and Ian Ian was born when Jael was 8 Jael leaves at age 14 when Ian is 6 A bit about Kinnian-Karaviv:
   There is a small piece of land in the northern part of the kingdom of Karavi. This is the debated land. It seems that at one time, back in the days of the division of kingdoms in the country of Braken, the inner sea did not connect with the ocean. Therefor, Savrion had a different border, into what is now known as Karavi. Now the odd thing is that after the river Shantybrook developed, the King of Karavi built his castle Irongate, near it. He believed that now that it was on his side of the river, he owned it. The King of Savrion claimed that the piece of land was his. The piece of land, named Kinnian, housed the royal family of Karavi and they vowed never to leave. Was declared with Karavi backed by Mippen, Vivian, and Levlan and Savrion backed by Icten and Zendar.

   A Morgan Mayhave Myth:
   Once upon a time, not so long ago across a not so big ocean as people like to bost, and a penny could buy supper for a shepard, there lived a girl named Morgan Mayhave. Middle sibbling of her two sisters, Tori and Campolina, Morgan acted as the inseam of her family. Her father, Thorn, was in love with every one of his daughters, but the glistening dew drop of his life was his wife, Sunflower. Once, in the dead of winter, Sunflower grew ill from lack of hope and Thorn grew mad with the thought of his lovely wife leaving him. It was Morgan who drew him back. She set herself and her sisters to do the chores. It was she who held together the fabric of her parents even as one began to slip from life and the other from sanity. Tori, the eldest, knew of herbalism and gathered treebarks and moss that survived into the long witnter, mixing them with dried leaves of summer days. From these she concocted a pollice which she applied to her mother's brow. It was a mixture of love and sun, warmed with the heat of the tight knit family. Little Camponila held her mother's hand whenever time allowed, and broght her catmint tea to warm her innards. Morgan, besides playing seamstress to her family, talked long hours into the night with her father as his feaver grew and his eyes sunk low and dark. Sometimes he spoke of dispare, blackness, and evil horid torturous things. Other times, with the look of the fey, he spoke of flying, what he though love was all about, about devotion. He spoke in sentances that no one, sane or not, could understand. Morgan listened intently to everything.
   Spring came again and joyous reunion between Sunflower and the green fresh outdoors brought her limbs back to life. She and Thorn showered their daughters with praise and gratitude and spent most of the season walking living cooking playing and sleeping in total togetherness. Lokai
   Vyatskata
   
   Introductory Verse:

   In the land of Ambrosia, there echoes a legend.
   A legend held dearly by the Royal Family of the D'julares that tells of a girl...
   A girl who, after battling evil and saving Ambrosia, crept away from that land that had made her a legend...
   Done with the battles she once waged across time, she embarked on a journey.
   A secret and personal journey...
   A journey in search of a beloved and invaluable friend...
   A friend with whom she parted ways when she finally fulfilled her heroic destiny
   

   and took her place among legends...

   Story recorded by Jenavev of West Area Karavi in this year high of nine and four, day nine before the first black night. It is already recorded that two lands still possess what is known as the old magic. Those kingdoms, if they can be called that since one is ruled by a prince and the other is inhabited souly by creatures and no people, are Ambrosia and Vivian. In a time of old, magic was used throughout the inter world. However, if you search elsewhere in this volume you will find out how Ambrosia became separated from the rest of the world and the royalty put in charge not so much to defend Ambrosia from others, but from itself. Ambrosia houses both sources of magic, the Visionary forest and the Unknown. The royalty is the appointed guardian of both. Lady Ath, force over night and magic, originally presented the Moonpearl to the first ruler of Ambrosia. She also gifted certain unborn children with special old magic and they were called Dreamkins. Kins served her as did the Moonpearl. Their special magic was Shapeshifting. Kins help those who help Ambrosia and also serve as councilors for the royalty. They number few. All kins automatically belong to the guild of kins, lead by a chosen kin leader. The kins are the only known beings that can travel the visionary forest, which is the gateway through which magic passes. Without magic, systems throughout earth, sky, sea, and fire would fail and every land would be affected. Visionary power is too great for any being except a kin to travel through. Therefore, when Selinite, guild leader of the kins, noticed a fluctuation in the flow she found it quite necessary to conference with prince Djulares, stableboy who 12 years earlier had been chosen as prince. He confirmed what Selenite had said - not only was he getting reports from magic-users from both Ambrosia and Vivian, but the moonpearl had been acting up of late as well. Information was vague - magical creatures simply couldn't explain what they were feeling to non-magic users. So - the Prince called his personal kin, Ian, to investigate the woods. Ian came back with some disturbing news. The dreampath or flow was being tampered with. Somehow, someone had found a way into visionary and tapped the flow. The worst part was that only a kin has the power to do this. Selinite had all kins accounted for. A mystery. Prince Djulares was further troubled when the moonpearl began sending him pictures of a girl he did not know. The moonpearl had re-chosen a possessor and it was the Princes duty to find her and present her with the oracle. He again sent Ian out to find the girl and bring her to the palace. Unbeknownst to her, Emma Jentraue, an adopted daughter of a large goatherding family, was just journeying him from the fair of the four seasons. Emma had been found 17 years earlier a mere infant, on the outskirts of the visionary forest. She was now journeying back up the mountain of Setsun to the west. She, her older half brother Valence and two servants camped out for the night in a baron meadow. During the night, the two servants tried to slit Valence's throat and made off with their wagons and all their goods. Luckily, Emma had taken the coin from the hidden compartment the day before. She went to help her brother, but just when they seemed overpowered, a dark figure intervened.