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"Best Friends"

“ ‘… and they all lived happily ever after. The End.’”
Damian closed the book and smiled at Rochester. “I liked that one, too. Alright, bedtime. You can get home by yourself, right?”
Rochester stretched, letting Damian’s teddy go limp as he arched his back and shook his head sleepily. Straightening again, he looked Damian in the eye and, with a flick of his giant ears and a series of clicks and whirs, gave Damian a clear message: Read another one!
Damian shook his head as he crawled over his bed to put the book on the shelf where it belonged. “I can’t, silly. It’s late. You need to be getting back to the library.”
Rochester looked disappointed. Pouting, he made his great glowing eyes as sad and pitiful as he could. Damian laughed at him, and Rochester growled. The little boy just shook his head. “You know that I’ll be in trouble if my parents see me up this late. And what do you think they’ll do if they see you?”
Rochester clicked and whirred again. I don’t care. Read another!
Damian smiled. “If your Mommy finds out you’ve been sneaking to my house, she’ll be really mad.”
Rochester scratched behind one bat-like ear with a hind paw, then shot Damian a squinty-eyed, mischievous look that read, Then I’ll hide at your house!
Damian laughed. “My bedroom isn’t big enough to hide a gargoyle! Where’d you go?”
Rochester yipped, and scrambled under Damian’s bed. Damian had to clap a hand over his mouth to stifle a bout of giggling. “How would you eat?”
By a series of pantomimes Rochester suggested that Damian smuggle food to him under his shirt or in his pockets.
By this point the five-year-old boy was shaking with laughter, trying to not breathe loudly and alert his parents. “Silly boy,” he gasped quietly.
Whining, Rochester crawled out from under the bed and sat cross-legged on Damian’s coverlet, his ears drooping and his lip quivering. Pleeeeeeaaaaaaaassseee?
Damian smiled. “Oh, all right.”
Barking happily, Rochester gave Damian a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Laughing, Damian pushed him off. “Shhh! You’ll wake my parents!”
Settling down, Rochester assumed his favorite listening position, finding the teddy from where he had let it drop earlier and waiting eagerly. Only a little bit sleepy, Damian took the old fairy tale book from its place on the shelf and skimmed through the pages. He smiled at his friend the gargoyle, glanced at his bedroom door to make sure all was still, and began to read. As he did, Rochester leaned over to look at the pages himself, his fiery eyes alight with a fierce happiness.
“Once upon a time...”

Nyla's Story

Nyla raised her head with agonizing slowness. The firelight danced in her eyes like some fabled spell. Wordlessly, she watched as everything she loved in this world burned.
Two days ago she had been happy and innocent. Two days ago, she had been care-free. Her parents were wise and strong, beings incapable of wrongdoing and invulnerable to harm. Her brother had been a pillar of strength and her sister an angelic – though annoying – loving girl. Two days ago, it had been, before she learned that there was evil in the world, before she knew that her parents were weak and her brother a coward. And now even her sister, with her soul as pure as spring rain, was as black as charcoal.
Burned and broken. Dead and done. And even Nyla was scarred. The fires continued to burn, some hidden hunger forcing them to eat into the soil that had once been the foundation of her home. Her limbs had since stopped smoking and the pain had been pushed aside by a more urgent feeling.
Something very painful was happening inside her skull.

It was like a cursed bard's tale.

When winters were devastating and summers were scorching, a king ruled above his people with a fist as firm as iron and drenched in blood. His subjects cried to him for his power and mercy, but he used it against them at the cost of their lives. But amongst the cries of agony and hopelessness, a legend was born.
And his name was Fay.

Nyla touched her forehead to the ground in weariness.

Fay never knew a mother. He was raised by men, who taught him to be fair and hardworking. He feared nothing and was honest to all he met. Never swift to judge, but an excellent judge of character all the same, all who met Fay could only describe him as the stuff of legends. All he needed was a weapon to be honored alongside his name.
That weapon came -

- the crackling fire continued to burn -

- when one night, during the darkest hour of the winter, when even the wolf hides in his den and prays to the deities above, Fay marched to the king’s palace. He banged hard on the gates until a guard heard his knocking over the howling winds. Fay demanded to see the king and began to list the injustices that the king had committed.
“Your people are starving!”
“Your people are dying by the thousands!”
“Your people are homeless and helpless!”
”Sire, why do you neglect your duty to these people?”
But the soldiers scorned him. When he would not go away the captain of the guard was called for, who yelled at Fay to leave. But Fay persisted. He continued to accuse the king.
“Your people are starving!”
“Your people are dying by the thousands!”
“Your people are homeless and helpless!”
”Sire, why do you neglect your duty to these people?”

Nyla briefly remembered warm meals cooked by her mother, happy winter holidays spent with her extended family, and the tall house her father had spent years building by hand.

Then Fay had the gall to accuse the king of treason. “One day, the people will rise up against you!” Fay warned. It was not long before the king himself came to the gates, and he called Fay a liar.
“Liar, am I? Then I myself shall lead the people against you!” Fay cried. And with that parting blow he bowed his head and trudged into the darkness.

Nyla could not feel herself crying.

Soon the king forgot all about the bold man named Fay. But one morning the queen roused the palace with her hysteric cries: the king was found slain, a poison dart in his head. A note, tied to the dart, was clutched in his hand - apparently, the last thing his eyes ever saw were the words scrawled upon it.
“I told you once that you would fall on that last dark night.”

Nyla clutched her forehead in anguish. “Nggghh...”

That began a season of wars, between the queen, with her inherited army, and Fay, whose followers began to be known as the Wasps, for their poison darts.
But Fay still needed a weapon of his own, something far more powerful than darts, something strong enough to lead the people into battle, to end this war and free the land from tyranny forever. So it was one day when he began to quest for Gadlian, a sword of legendary powers and strength.

With a sob Nyla struggled to her feet. She was only too aware of the agony flowing through her as burnt muscles attempted to support her weight. She cried out as her burns were irritated by the dirt and smoke.
With all the strength she could muster, Nyla gestured wildly at her burning home. "This isn't happening to me!" she screamed. "This is happening to someone else!"
But the fire still burned.
Nyla sobbed as she dipped, almost falling to her knees again. With a cry of effort she forced herself to stand. She began to feel the pain, to accept it, and to embrace it. She turned the pain into her strength.
With this new strength she lifted her face to the smoke-filled sky and howled, "Curse you, Fay! Curse you and all who follow you! Every Wasp will die! Die! Burn..."
Weeping salt tears, tears that stung as they embraced her wounded cheeks, she turned her back on the inferno. She staggered in the other direction, as far as her burnt legs would allow.

The Nerds and the Knights of Vallkayrie

The first thing to be noticed was the sky. Broken only by clouds of purple and black, the sky was a particular shade of orange, streaked with the faintest yellow. It shimmered in the heat, and what few birds took wing to embrace it fell back to earth in the same motion. It was a sky of death, and a sky of war.

Boots crunched in the soil below the sky, then paused. Following the brown, filthy boots were black leggings, a green jerkin, a black blouse, a green cape, black gloves, and a belt from which hung a rapier. The man inside the clothes had the hair of a star, the skin of a warrior, and the eyes of a hawk.

His name was Sir Faltous.

Under this particular orange sky his eyes were narrowed into pieces of flint as they surveyed the scene around him. Bodies, some human and others monster, littered the ground around and beneath him. With each step one took the soil made the sound of crunching bones – in some areas, because the soil had absorbed too much blood and heat to be soil. But in most spaces, because with each step one was crunching bones. Scouts and medicine men were hurrying among the bodies. Medicine men were trying to find the human bodies to mend, or just to remove for a proper burial. The scouts helped them, and killed any surviving monsters they found.

The sound of horses broke Faltous from his reverie and he turned his head to see Sir Tylkane, approaching him astride his warhorse with a huge grin on his face. Tylkane was young, newly knighted, and preferred to view life jovially, even in scenes such as this. Though Faltous could not share his grin, he could look upon the fellow knight’s brown hair and green and black clothes – drenched in blood – without anger. Next to him was a man whose expression was not as vague as Faltous’, yet not as jovial as Tylkane’s. His battle gear of black and gold was soiled through with blood, and his warhorse was weary. In any other circumstance Faltous would have greeted them properly, but he knew as well as those men did that this was not a normal circumstance.

“A battle won!” Tylkane crowed once within reach. “A fine day for victory.”

Faltous returned his gaze forward, listening as a muffled scream cut short signaled the ending of another monster’s life. “A battle only,” he said, “and a bloody one. The cost is too great.”

The third man spoke as a mediator. “It may be the last, my knights. This day we hath shown our strength to be mighty. Let Valques say what she will, there is no hope for her to build her armies to strengths she once knew. We have destroyed the strongest of her monsters, and she herself hath burned her own fortress.”

Faltous nodded at the wise words. “My liege, your words comfort me. But Valques herself is still alive, and whilst there is breath within her men cannot rest at ease.”

The third man patted his weary horse on the neck, and allowed himself to smile. “Dost thou doubt that I am prepared to face her once more?”

“I never doubt thee, sire!” Faltous cried, whirling around and falling to one knee. “The King Thadeous is wise and noble -”

“Less of thy words,” Tylkane cried, “and spare us the anguish of thy speeches! Our ‘wise and noble’ king indeed has a plan for Valques’ ultimate destruction.”

“Indeed?” Faltous said, rising to his feet once more. “It heartens me to hear so.”

“Indeed,” King Thadeous nodded, “Mayhap we have found another weapon to use in our favor. Come, knights, I must ask thee to return to our camp. There you may rest and clean thyselves. Tonight I hold council to discuss this new... plan.”

The sun had set by the time Faltous had finished binding his wounds and washing away his blood. When he left his tent, he was dressed in a courtier’s clothes. His black stockings and vest matched his scarlet silk dress blouse to perfection, but that was the extent of Faltous’ formality. In place of the gold and jewels many a courtier chose to wear, Faltous wore his simple belt and boots, so that should any trouble arise, his rapier could be drawn and used without any cumbersome obstacles. He made his way to the king’s tent, where council was to be held. As he trod amongst the tents his gaze reached to the sky above them. The fierce sky of battle had set with the sun, and the night sky was one of peace and rest. Myriads of stars were sprinkled against the dark velvet above, and no where could there be found an indication of what horrors had been seen in the battle only hours before.

Faltous bent his head as he entered the king’s tent, straightening to view a scene he had witnessed many times before. Knights, squires, pages, courtiers, and ladies stood at their respected places in a circle around the outside of the tent. King Thadeous stood at the back of the tent, where he could view all around him and those who entered with ease. The atmosphere was one of business - men and women were here to face their responsibilities to the kingdom and accomplish whatever tasks might befall them. They achieved these aims in varied ways; there were smiling faces like that of Tylkane, grim expressions like that of Faltous, and faces of optimism tempered with realism like that of the king.

One thing was different, however. As Faltous took his place between Tylkane and another knight named Sir Gorgaino, he noticed a large object that stood beside the king. It was about seven feet tall and oval-shaped, but beyond that Faltous could not guess what it was, for someone had covered it with a cloth to hide it from view.

Another lady, two pages, and four knights arrived some minutes after Faltous, and then the circle was complete. Knights and courtiers stood closest to the king, while ladies stood behind them and pages and squires ringed the outside. “I thank thee all for attending,” the king began when everyone was settled. The murmur of ladies gossiping and knights muttering died down, and the council came to order. “As thou art aware,” King Thadeous said, “today hath been a momentous day. Our best warriors have defeated those of Valques, who fled beyond the regions of this kingdom after setting her own fortress ablaze. Scouts and healers are quickly tending to our fallen brothers and eliminating surviving threats, and it is quite possible that within a month we shall be able to return home to Calion.”

Several ladies gave cries of delight. Calion, the city where King Thadeous lived in his great castle, was home to all present, and they had been away for far too long. The ladies were excited to return to their comfortable way of life, while knights were anxious to return to protect the castle and its people.

King Thadeous gave them a moment to express their delight, and then began again. “It has been expressed to me that this war cannot end until Valques herself is captured and executed,” he said gravely. “It must be said that I agree. The sorceress and her powers alone cannot conquer the kingdom of Vallkayrie, but she can still plot and destroy, striking our kingdom like bolts of lightning and severely damaging our kingdom in bits and pieces. To leave such a powerful being alive would endanger us all. Unfortunately we were unable to corner Valques today.” A smile played at the lips of the monarch. “However, we were able to storm her fortress as it burned.”

A murmur rose and died as he continued. “Amongst the ruins of the fortress there was much to find. A great deal of knowledge was lost in the flames - surely Valques meant to destroy evidence of her powers rather than risk allowing us to seize them by force. Great tomes of sorcery and magic were lost to the fire, though we salvaged what we could. No fewer than ten larders, stuffed with provisions, were turned to ashes before they could be saved. Five armories contained only melted and faulty weapons. But, in a secret chamber where Valques kept her most powerful instruments and potions, this was found.” King Thadeous waved a hand to the cloaked object that stood at his side. “The magic in this is so powerful that fire could not touch it. Behold!” With a dramatic flourish, Thadeous seized the cloth that hung on the thing and pulled it free.

Everyone took their time inspecting the thing closely. To Faltous, it resembled a giant mirror. The object was a large oval that stood on three legs, with a polished surface framed by silver. The frame was etched with signs and markings that Faltous could not read, and a strange but dull light seemed to ripple... almost underneath the odd writing. Most curiously of all, although it seemed to be a mirror, the surface reflected no image. Rather than seeing a mirror image of the tent and the assembled council, Faltous spied only a deep, infinite cloudy blackness that seemed to swirl and sway, as if pushed by a light breeze.

“My magikers and mages,” King Thadeous declared, “have deemed this a ‘portal.’ The etchings thou seeth here, around the edge, are the signs of transportation, of our world, and of worlds yet unknown.” The king pointed to the signs he was referring to. “Translated, the markings command this portal to transport the master from this world to one of three others - none of which my magikers recognize - and then to allow the master a passage back. An ancient magic set within the silver can be activated, we predict, when the master steps within the portal.”

Faltous stepped forward, raising his hands in question. “All of this is wondrous to hear, indeed, yet how could this prove helpful? While fighting the battle I saw with my own eyes that Valques flew into the sky and beyond the horizon. She did not use this ‘portal’ to escape. Why concern ourselves with things of dangerous power?”

King Thadeous nodded understandingly. “No, Valques did not escape to another world. But we do believe that she held this mirror in high importance.”

“Of course,” said Lady Maglai, a woman in sapphire velvet who was acknowledged as a great scholar. “Why else spare its destruction? Valques must have known that this mirror could not be touched by fire. Why set fire to thy fortress, to burn thy secrets, if thou dost know that even one of thy powerful tools would survive to be found by thine enemies?”

Her words raised murmurs of concern. “It is true what thou sayst,” King Thadeous said gravely. “She set fire to her fortress knowing this portal would not be harmed. Canst thou tell me for what purpose she would leave this portal behind?”

Another lady, dressed in scarlet silk, stepped alongside Maglai. “Perhaps she means to retrieve it,” Lady Nightyle said. “She is known to traverse in disguise, and she hath the power of invisibility. She could attempt to steal this portal from our camp, to bring it back to her own sanctuary and use it again. Perhaps she hath armies of monsters built on these three worlds, to replace the army our noble warriors have destroyed this day. If Valques were to regain possession of this portal, she could summon these armies to our world and wage war once more.”

Sir Tylkane stepped forward, his eyes alight with excitement. “The lady speaks with reason, my liege. If this be, then it would best be wise to send warrior parties to these worlds. We shall act as a guerilla force, striking these armies and weakening them before Valques could retrieve them and use them against us.”

There were murmurs of approval, but then the knight beside Sir Faltous, Sir Gorgaino, stepped forward. “What, comrades, if this were not to be? Perhaps Valques wishes for us to explore these worlds. Perhaps it is meant to be a trap? Imagine, if we were to enter into another world, only to find ourselves already surrounded by the monsters of Valques? Those terrible beasts would destroy us within moments – or worse, capture our minds to bend them to their will.”

Inwardly Faltous felt a chill. By far Valques’ most feared power was the spell to capture minds. With this spell, a man was made to believe that he was what he was not, honored that which he in truth abhorred, and desired that which he had once fought against. This spell was so powerful, so precise, and so detailed, that it could be cast from the sky and touch only one man amongst millions. Many knights in battle had watched as their comrades, seemingly without cause, turned and began to fight alongside the sorceress’ armies, attacking their own companions. Worst of all, this spell could be conjured by a spellcaster and then contained within a vessel. Any creature, whether he be a magiker or the lowliest monster, could carry this vessel to any location and set the spell loose upon whomever he wished. The horror of being made a new man, turning into the foe of your friends, was too much to accept. Faltous stepped forward. “These fears are not groundless. My comrade speaks in wisdom. I believe the risk to great.”

His statement caused an outcry. Within moments a heated, many-sided arguement had arisen. While King Thadeous alone kept silent, his ladies and knights were debating strongly. Some voices were in agreement to Faltous. It was too risky to allow their knights to traverse to these other worlds. It would be suicide! Besides, the knights were needed here, to protect the people of Vallkayrie. But other voices spoke otherwise. For decades, this kingdom had been trying to gain information of Valques and her motives. Her reasons for attempting to conquer this world were unknown, for she had expressed many times that it was not her desire to rule them – only to destroy them. And now here was one of her most powerful tools, in their very laps! How could they not take advantage? Voices raised, anger heated the air in the tent, and Faltous even saw two pages draw their daggers. Just when conflict seemed inevitable, one voice raised itself to be heard above the rest. “King and council, I beg thee to listen to a lowly squire!”

It was the saying with which a squire – who, not being of gentility nor having been knighted, was not truly a member of the council – requested permission to speak. It was rarely ever used, and upon hearing it all quieted instantly. Faltous raised his eyebrows in surprise as the circle parted to reveal who it was who had spoken.

Stepping forward somewhat shyly, Squire Terrence showed his sparse height of five feet and four inches. He was seventeen years old, and had served his master Sir Montague faithfully these seven years. He was considered short, scrawny, and pale, but his tawny hair framed a face with bright piercing green eyes and a constant smile. He was swift with a bow and his wits, and loyal to all who earned his adoration. Unlike most assembled in the tent, he discarded the silks and velvets of court. Instead, much like Faltous, he wore leathers and deerskins more fitting for a scouting venture. His squire’s dagger, a gift from his master after having broken his page’s dagger in a battle, was a beautiful example, with a spotless ebony hilt and a blade which Terrence tended well. As he reached the center of the circle, the squire doffed his green cap and bowed to the king, who smiled and said, “Speak, squire. King and council listen.”

Straightening, Terrence continued to hold his cap in his hand as he spoke. “My liege, the voices in this tent have raised two options: one, to adventure forth into these worlds and annihilate the armies we assume to be there. Two, to ignore this danger and face Valques here in our own world. Sire, could there not be a third option?”

Anyone who was not already quiet now held his tongue and waited. “Go on, squire,” King Thadeous said.

Taking a deep breath, Terrence nervously pressed forward. “Consider this: could we not send scouts?”

“Scouts, squire?”

“Scouts, my liege. Could we not send scouts into these worlds? Scouts would reconnoiter the worlds they encountered without being noticed or raising suspicion. They would gain what information there was to be learned in secret, without destroying or risking destruction. Then they could come back, and report their findings, further advising this council on the wisest route.”

Sir Montague stepped forward. Dressed in black velvet, he looked so solemn that no one could help but view him as a serious, no-nonsense man. He placed a hand on the shoulder of his squire and announced, “I choose to sponsor this youth.” Some cheers arose from the back of the tent where the squires were assembled; in speaking thus, Montague had declared that he was greatly pleased with his squire. Terrence smiled with pleasure as his master continued. “Sire, this boy speaks sense. Acting thus, we would spare our warriors, allowing them to remain to protect our people here. We would not risk losing whole parties to the mind-bending curse. And we could take advantage of this portal to learn information of our enemy. Would it not be wise to take his advice?”

King Thadeous smiled. “It seems to be an option which satisfies all concerns.” He turned his face to all corners of the tent, then raised his right hand. “Speak to me, council; shall we send scouts through the portal?”

There were calls “Aye!”, “Certes!”, and “’Tis well said!”, peppered with cheering from the squires and pages. King Thadeous beamed at Terrence. “Squire Terrence, the council moves to act according to thy advice. We acknowledge thy wisdom.”

Squire Terrence bowed once more, his face alight with excitement. “My liege, thy words gladden mine heart. Might thy lowliest servant request a boon?”

“Speak, and it shall be granted to thee.”

“Let thy lowliest servant be a scout for thee,” Terrence begged.

King Thadeous assumed a ponderous expression and looked to Sir Montague. “Good knight, what dost thou advise? The lad is thy squire.”

Sir Montague clapped both of his hands on Terrence’s shoulders, smiling more broadly than ever. “My liege, Terrence spent his childhood as the son of a traveling merchant. He hath proven to me more than once that he hath learned to survive in all regions, be it mountainous and treacherous forest or arid desert with stinging windstorm. Many is the night that he hath startled me in our own camp, for he can move swiftly and silently. Most importantly, his loyalty and determination exceed even his skill. Squire Terrence shalt not disappoint thee.”

Squire Terrence blushed and beamed with pleasure at his mentor’s words. King Thadeous clapped his hands once, and announced in a voice that thundered with authority, “We the King have decided. The first scout to be sent to these unknown worlds, to face whatever perils he may, is Terrence of Tellamar, squire to Sir Montague de Forensi. Squire Terrence,” he said, his voice dropping to a low and serious tone, “this mission is of vital importance. No matter what thou dost whilst in those worlds, thou shalt uncover knowledge for thy kingdom. Failure is possible only through death. Thou may very well face sights our kind hath never imagined. To protect thee, We give to thee a gift.” At a gesture from the king, a page stepped smartly forward, displaying something long wrapped in a sheet of black silk. King Thadeous gently removed the top layer of silk and lifted from the wrappings a quiver and bow of great beauty. Though carved from common oak wood, the intricacies of the carvings that ordained the quiver sent thrills through Terrence. The arrows were perfectly carved and fletched, and the bow was a longbow of such strength and build that Terrence knew it would take great strain to break it. The bowstring itself, though not yet strung, already looked sleek and taught.

“Squire Terrence,” the king said, holding the quiver and bow forward, “take this quiver and this bow, as a gift from thy King. My mages hath enchanted the arrows, so that once they have been embedded in thy target for ten minutes they shall return to thy quiver. The bow, too, has been enchanted. The string shall never need waxed, and the bow shall never snap - though it may crack under strain. Take thee these gifts.”

Terrence accepted the gifts with a look of awe on his face. Reverently he belted the quiver and bow to his back, and when his hands dropped back to his sides it seemed to the onlookers as though the gifts were a part of him. Dropping to one knee, Terrence kissed the hem of King Thadeous’ cloak.

King Thadeous dropped his formal tone and adopted one of business. “Now, precautions must be taken, of course. What would be advised?”

Sir Tylkane stepped forward. “Why not attach a string to him, sire?” he said, smiling. “Tie one end securely here, and another on the squire himself.”

“No one puts a scout on a leash,” Sir Faltous said sternly.

“Peace, Faltous, I mean not to keep him tied forever,” Tylkane said, his grin broadening. “Once he hath safely reached the other side, he shall convey by a series of tugs that he be safe. Shall we say, five tugs means ‘I am safe, and shall detach the line here,’ and three tugs means ‘Cut the line, quickly?’”

“And seven tugs means ‘I am safe, detach the line,’” said Sir Gorgaino.

“I can remember that,” Squire Terrence said confidently.

A coil of cord was summoned for, and within moments the squire found the cord knotted about his waist, with the other end firmly attached to the top of the portal (whose intricate engravings produced a loop in the metal). Ten feet of free cord stretched between.

Smiling, King Thadeous placed his hands on the squire’s shoulders. “Honor thy king, remember thy duty. Go now, in the name of thy kingdom.”

Terrence stood, and faced his mentor. Sir Montague wrapped his arms around his squire affectionately. “I shall await thy return,” he said.

“I shall bring back a token of that world,” Terrence said brightly. Separating himself from his knight, Squire Terrence bowed low to the whole of the council, placed his cap jauntily on his head, turned to face the portal, and with a series of smart steps walked straight through the smooth surface.

The members of the council gasped as he seemed to disappear. Sir Faltous wondered if the portal was a trick, meant to make whoever tried to walk through it disappear forever instead of transporting them to these “other worlds.” But a lady cried out, “The cord! Look at the cord!” Sure enough, the cord was unwinding from its pile on the floor as, somewhere, Squire Terrence continued walking.

Stepping through the portal had felt no different than walking through a door - there was no sensation of cold air or water, no sudden shock, absolutely nothing to signal that he had walked through anything other than ordinary air. If Terrence had not seen with his own eyes the sudden change of scenery, he would have thought that he was still in the council tent. But the moment he had stepped through the portal, the world around him was completely altered. Terrence felt solid ground beneath his feet, but his eyes could only see him floating in the air. As far as he could see, the world was a wash of silver, blue, and gray, blending, shifting, swirling, and spiraling downwards in a constant eerie motion. All in all, he felt himself to be in some kind of a weird dream. Looking behind him, he could still see the entrance to the portal, though he could only see darkness beyond it. The cord tied to his waist trailed on the invisible ground and into that darkness. Looking ahead, he could spy three heavy oaken doors, seemingly floating in the space some feet ahead of him. Assuming those were entrances to the three unknown worlds, Terrence supposed that he was somewhere between those worlds and his own – assuming he was inside the portal itself.

While he was digesting this, something strange happened. Squire Terrence got the strangest feeling that the portal was trying to communicate with him. It wasn’t a sound that he could hear, nor a thought that he could comprehend – simply a feeling, really. And it occurred to him that the portal was wondering if he was its new master.

Terrence spoke his answer aloud. “I am,” said Terrence.

It occurred to Terrence that the portal wondered to which world Terrence wished to go. “I prithee to answer my question first,” Terrence said politely. “Which world did thy previous mistress Valques use?”

It occurred to Terrence that the portal knew no names. “Then, I prithee, dost thy previous mistress ever move an army or a spell betwixt these worlds?”

It occurred to Terrence that neither an army nor a spell had ever been inside the portal – only its previous master, its current master Terrence, and the bit of string that attached Terrence to his home world. It also occurred to Terrence that, speaking of the string, what was it for? Where was Terrence going? Why did he care about the previous master? What did he want to do? Terrence answered the portal’s many questions out loud, amused by the magic object’s curiosity. After a while, he brought his purpose to the portal’s attention, and asked if the portal knew which door would be best to enter. He felt that the portal was considering this, then felt that the portal had no preference. “Then I shall search them one by one,” declared Terrence, and boldly he strode to the door which stood on the left. He paused for just a moment and traced over the lettering that glittered on the door:

Earth

Thanking the portal, Terrence pushed open the door and stepped through.

For a moment, he was surrounded by darkness. Then pinpoints of light began to spread and blend, showing Terrence that he had arrived in his new world close to midnight. The young squire blinked with surprise at his surroundings. It was all so strange, so astounding, that it took him minutes to adjust to it all. The first thing he recognized was trees. But surely he could not be in a forest. The trees were sparse, and planted in neat rows. Perhaps a garden, then? But these trees grew no fruit, and there were no flowers. Behind the nearest row of trees there was a long, black rock which seemed to stretch on and on for miles, and metal formed a kind of fence on the far side of it. Large gray stones paved a pathway beneath his feet. Turning, he saw behind him a river, with a large stone wall lining it.

It appeared that he had stepped out of... well, how to describe it? It was a large, red structure shaped like an outhouse, but its walls were of glass panes held together with red framework. There was a metal contraption within. Two signs were upon it; one, etched in the metal, said “Telephone,” while another, a sheet of white parchment that fluttered on the breeze, read “Out of Order.” Oddest of all, something in it glowed far more brightly than any fire, lighting up the red building and the stones around it as though with daylight.

It was the strangest place Terrence had ever seen.

The string that was still tied to his waist stretched into the red metal outhouse building, then seemingly vanished in midair. Experimentally, Terrence untied the cord from around his waist and let his end fall to the ground. It hung from its point in midair without disappearing. Smiling, Terrence tugged at the cord five times. Then he carefully closed the door to the red metal building, looped his end of the string around the door handle, and walked into the night.
***

"He's a maniac, Mom. A total maniac."

It was an hour before the dance, and Madeline was taking a hasty dinner with her Mom. Terrence had already finished eating and was trying to find where Mom had hidden his bow and arrows. Mom took a sip of milk and smiled at her daughter. "He's not a maniac. From what Terrence told me yesterday, his mother was a true seamstress. Perhaps he learned a thing or two from her. And if he was telling the truth, then dressmaking in his world would be a successful enterprise, and it wouldn't be shameful for men to participate in it."

Madeline shoved a forkful of mac and cheese into her mouth. "I have never seen a guy so excited about sewing, Mom. Never. It's unnatural."

"Maybe to you, but obviously not to him."

"But his mother couldn't have been a seamstress, and he couldn't have come from another world." Even as she spoke, Madeline only half-believed herself.

Mom stood up and carried her plate to the counter. "My dear, until we find out where he is from, perhaps it will not hurt to let him believe his story. After all, we can't disprove it. You finished your own dress, right?"

Madeline nodded. "We did mine last so that, as soon as we had finished her dress, Thelma could go home to get ready. Wish she had stayed to sew my dress together, though. It took me a while to remember how to use a sewing machine, but I got it done." What she didn't mention was that she suspected that Terrence had enjoyed designing her dress the most.

Finishing her dinner and rushing upstairs, Madeline hurried into the dress Terrence had created and grabbed her favorite "evening" bag – which, as her Mom had often lamented, looked more like a medieval peasant's traveling bag. It wasn't, strictly speaking, but it was similar, and it made Madeline feel more comfortable. Into it she threw her handkerchief, her student ID, some emergency money, and her The Complete and Illustrated Collection of Arthurian Legends (which included a translated L'Morte d' Arthur). Mom, of course, didn't know that she was taking her book along (though she might have guessed it), but Madeline always got bored of dances rather quickly and wanted to have something to do in such an event.

As she made her way back down to the living room Terrence's voice made her lift her head. "Thou dost wear the dress perfectly! One would think thee born to Omeyath."

She smiled in reply, amused to see that Terrence was back in his "squire" clothes. "And you still look nothing like someone from my world," she said.

Terrence patted his bow and quiver – which he had found in the laundry room behind the furnace – fondly. "I come as an ambassador and a scout, no longer as a spy. I have no need to blend in now."

"Good thing," Madeline replied. "Come on, you'll get to see the inside of one of those 'horseless carriages.'"

Terrence's eyes lit up with pleasure inside of the car. He had never been inside a car before, he claimed, and everything was strange to him. Madeline started to giggle as he practically bounced in his seat, grinning like a little boy in a dinosaur museum, and her Mom began to look exasperated. "Certes, 'tis astounding! Doth it move by magic? No? But of course, Lady Madeline told me so yesterday. If not magic, what then? ... I discover deafness. Prithee, repeat thyself. ... Spawn-tain-ee-us Com-bus-chun? I have never heard – But, of course, it is greatly advanced science. How does it work? ... I discover deafness. Prithee, explain in fairer terms. ... I see. Then I shall restrain my curiosity. How dost thou steer? By this wheel? May I try? ... I see. I apologize. May I try on the morrow? ... No, 'tis all right. I understand... When may I try– Oh! Pray tell, what was that clicking?"

"Look, Terrence," Mom finally sighed after explaining why she had to stop at a red light. "Perhaps I could finish answering your questions as I'm driving you home after the dance."

"But we're walking home," Madeline said. "I just asked you to drive me there because we've got those costumes to deliver and I didn't want to have to carry them."

"You most certainly are not!" Mom exclaimed as the light turned green. "It'll be after nine by the time you come home. I won't have you young ladies walking home in the dark alone."

"But we won't be alone," Madeline said brightly. "We'll have Terrence with us. And besides, he's armed, or he at least looks it. Don't you, Terrence?"

Terrence glanced at his squire's dagger, bow, and quiver of arrows. "A squire of King Thadeous' court never ventures forth unarmed, unless it cannot be helped."

"See?" Madeline said, turning back to Mom.

Mom was looking really uneasy about it, but as she parked the car in the school parking lot Terrence took her hand, held his green cap to his heart, and smiled winningly. "My Lady, do not fear the night nor the dark. I have walked the pathway to thy home in the depths of midnight, and it is well-lit by the brightest lights. And I vow to protect thy noble daughter."

There was something about Terrence that Madeline's Mom couldn't resist. She sighed, then half-smiled. "Well, all right, I suppose." She reached over and gave Madeline a hug. "Against my better judgment, I'll let you. But I want you home before ten o'clock, Madeline."

"Okay, okay!" Madeline said, pretending to struggle against her mother's grip. "Help me carry the costumes in, huh Mom?"

Thelma was inside and greeted them by helping to carry Mom's share of the costumes in. "Come on, I've borrowed a table we can lay these on while we're waiting for everybody to show up."

And then, Madeline thought dully later, there followed a long period of boredom. Mom had gone back home, Terrence and Thelma had launched themselves into handing out the costumes to the people who had asked for them, and she had planted herself in a corner and started to read.

Terrence started spending his time making sure everyone was wearing their costume properly. He was getting more than one weird look – no one had ever seen a boy so obsessed with clothes before. But the girls all appreciated his little hints – "No, no, do not wear the shoulders so low! This is an elegant dress, not a nightgown. The seams go here on thy shoulders, up here. See how the back gets baggy and sags if thou dost put it down too low? There, now thou dost look exquisite!" But he did not spend all his night with such casual topics. Ever aware of his duty to his kingdom, Terrence questioned each person he met about the sorceress Valques. None had ever heard of the tyrant before, nor knew what a mind-bending enchantment was, nor had seen a monster.

When everyone was wearing their costume properly – including Haleigh, who had argued hotly against Terrence's style in order to save face in front of her friends – and he had determined that he could obtain no information from these youths, he looked around for Madeline, to make sure she was showing off her blue dress. He couldn't deny that her dress was his favorite. He had used a very rare pattern that was usually reserved for the most elegant of women, and it didn't belong on anyone of a lower class, even a landowning lady like Madeline. But he couldn't help himself. It was very flattering to her, both in color and shape, and he wanted to thank her for bringing him into her home and feeding him.

When he found Madeline sitting slouched in a chair engrossed in her book he marched over and gently took the book from her hands. "That dress was not made to be hidden in the corner," he said reproachfully.

"Ah -" Madeline stammered, grabbing for her book.

"I'll take no excuse," he continued, packing the book in her bag.

"Bu -" Madeline said, diving for her bag, but Terrence restrained her.

"No, my lady, tonight thou art at a grand festival, and in that dress thou shalt be the belle of the ball." He took her hands and pulled her to her feet. "Come, surely thou knowst how to dance?"

"No –"

"No matter, I do. My first real lesson as a squire was how to waltz."

"Why does a squire need to waltz?" Madeline asked, bemused, as Terrence pulled her insistently to the middle of the floor.

"Court etiquette. It will kill thee faster than a rogue knight's blade," Terrence grinned. "Here, 'tis simple."

Madeline gulped, looking around helplessly for Thelma as Terrence put her in a dancing position and the DJ started playing Kelly Clarkson's "Because of You." "Thy world has the strangest songs," Terrence muttered.

"We can't waltz to this," Madeline breathed in relief. "It's a four-beat song. Aren't waltzes in thirds?"

Terrence smiled. "So, thou art knowing of music! A rare gem for the youths of thy world, but mere court etiquette in mine own." He started to teach her a different dance step, to Madeline's dismay, as he continued. "In sooth, I believe that thou art meant for Omeyath, and not here."

"We all agree, kid," Joe shot over his shoulder as he and his girlfriend Taylor slow-danced a few feet away.

Sensing the insult intended in the remark, Terrence was about to yell something back, but Madeline forced his head back around to face her. "Ignore him."

Madeline patiently endured the dancing lessons, awkwardly making the motions to dance moves that did not belong in the same time period as the songs they were dancing to (namely, "Tic Toc," "Bleeding Love," and "Love Song"). But when she finally stopped stepping in the wrong directions, started getting into the rhythms, and learned to ignore the music, she actually found that she was enjoying herself. Judging by the look on Terrence's face, he was enjoying himself as well, and Madeline found it was easier to keep her eyes glued to her feet than it was to look into his glowing face. Strange...

Thelma couldn't help feeling a bit left out as she watched Terrence spinning Madeline in circles around the floor. The relationship between her and her best friend was one of survival: the two nerds and outcasts stuck together to stick up for each other and fight for each other against a world of cheerleaders and Facebook cyberbullies, and thus far they had managed to keep each other out of popularity and out of any limelight. But from the moment Terrence had shown up, Madeline had started getting a large amount of notice from everyone. At first she had shrugged it off, knowing that Terrence would be gone soon and after a while everyone would get bored of reminding Madeline that she had been the only one who could understand what that weirdo was saying. But now the damage was great enough that it didn't matter how soon Terrence left. He had dressed Madeline in a beautiful dress and put her in the middle of the room. Suddenly the looks people were giving Madeline weren't full of contempt or ridicule, but of genuine curiosity. She knew that when they returned to school on Monday the talk would be about how Madeline, the Medieval Nerd, had actually looked pretty and had actually danced with a boy for a night. It would gain her temporary fame. And because no one was dancing with Thelma, there was no way for her to know that Terrence had designed her dress two make her look just as pretty. Madeline didn't seem to notice, but Thelma, left politely chatting with a few other outcasts she didn't know so well standing by the wall, was jealous that her friend was being swept onto center stage and wasn't bringing her along for the ride.

So she was glad when she could thread through the crowd of costumed peers, poke Madeline a bit hard, and say, "It's nine o'clock. Time to go."

Madeline was glad, too. She was worried that she was starting to have too much fun. Terrence and she were in the middle of a discussion about the benefits of sorcery versus simple steel weapons; she had never been able to have such a discussion in such detail with anyone ever before, much less a boy, and the novelty of the whole experience left her a little flustered.

Terrence was the only one who didn't really want to go. "This was my first time of leisure in a fortnight," he commented as Madeline picked up her bag, made sure her book was still in it, and slung it over her shoulder.

"It wasn't completely leisure," she pointed out as she, Thelma, and he started walking to the door. "You determined that that sorceress you were looking for isn't here."

"I already knew that Valques was not present in thy world," Terrence replied. "I was looking for her armies or her magics, but it appears that she has had no doings with thy world. So my fortnight was a waste of time."

"Wait," Thelma cut in, curious despite her jealousy. "How'd you determine that this sorceress hadn't anything to do with us?"

"Simple," Terrence said, readjusting his dagger on his belt. "When the sorceress Valques means to make use of a resource, she does not compromise nor partake as a guest. She conquers. Thy culture hath shown no sign of her influence; she hath no hold upon thee. None I spake to this night knew her name nor her purpose. Were Valques to come to this world with the intentions of using it, she would not hesitate to make her existence known and to obliterate all that did not agree with her. And some of thy culture would not agree with her."

"It doesn't agree with all of us, either," Madeline muttered. Thelma, who hadn't understood most of what was going on but figured that Madeline did, pouted.

"Well," Terrence sighed, "then I shall return home this night."

Madeline halted, turned on her heel, and stared at him. "You what?"

Terrence looked apologetic. "I cannot linger here when my kingdom needs me."

"How do you intend on going?" Madeline asked, suddenly worried that Terrence intended on wandering the streets of the city like a homeless lunatic.

"The portal to my world is on the pathway to thy home, yes?" Terrence asked. "I will walk with thee as far as there, then I must go home, for fear that I may not find my way back again." He smiled ruefully. "You see, the landmarks of thy world are beyond my comprehension, and without thee to guide me, I would be lost."

Madeline remembered the broken telephone booth that they had passed walking home yesterday. They were going to walk by it tonight again. How was she going to tell him that it wasn't a magic portal?

"Can we keep walking?" Thelma asked. "We're standing in the street here." She tugged Madeline's hand, and Madeline followed, but she was preoccupied. Terrence was going to try and use the telephone booth to go back to a world she wasn't sure existed. What was she going to do if – when, she meant, when it didn't work? Would he let her take him home, or would he go berserk?

"Hey, Terrence," she said slowly. "Do you want to try going home tomorrow? It's pretty late. You could sleep at my house again."

But Terrence shook his head and touched his dagger again. "I need to return. There is much to do... The war is not over. I cannot linger here when it only wastes precious time my kingdom does not have to spare."

She couldn't argue with that. She should have, but she couldn't.

When they finally reached the telephone booth it was fully dark out. The canal on their one side was glittering from the lights of the city on the other side. The trees lined up in a neat row next to the street blended in shadows. And Terrence stepped up to the telephone booth, which was glowing so brightly it was almost blinding. Madeline tried one last time. "You haven't any food or money with you –"

She cut herself off as Terrence turned to look at the two girls. His face was glowing as brightly as the telephone booth from excitement. "It's still here. See? This is the string that was tied about my waist as I crossed worlds. I showed it to thee last we were here."

Madeline opened her mouth to speak, but shut it again as she glanced at the string. There was a piece of string, tied to the handle of the door. And it stretched off into the booth. But when she followed it with her eyes, it seemed to disappear into thin air. It was like the rope was hanging from a hole in the fabric of the air itself, and part of Madeline told her there was something truly wonderful through the hole. She looked back at Terrence in shock.

Terrence was busy bowing to Thelma and didn't notice her look. "My Lady Thelma, it has been a true pleasure meeting thee. A lady of thy skill in needlework and design is of a rare and beautiful breed. I honor thee highly." He smiled enchantingly.

Thelma blushed at his compliments, reminded herself that she had to draw this boy's face some time, and shifted her feet awkwardly as her jealousy evaporated. "It was nice to meet you, Terrence."

Then Terrence turned, untied the string from the telephone booth door, and wound it around his waist a couple times. Madeline was still numb, unsure of what to think, when Terrence suddenly faced her with a face that beamed with excitement and... something else. He extended a hand to her. "Come with me."

"Wha..." she breathed, uncomprehending.

"I hath said it many times," Terrence said. "Thou dost belong with my people. Come to Omeyath with me."

She stared at him as three parts of her waged war. The cynical part insisted that there was no such thing as other worlds, that he was having her on, and that all of this was crazy. The part of her that was always buried in The Complete and Illustrated Collection of Arthurian Legends (which included a translated L'Morte d' Arthur) screamed with the desire to go and find this other world, this world of knights and magic and weapons and things no one else in this world loved as she did. And in the middle, common sense told her that yes, the string was disappearing into thin air. That and many other things proved that his story could be true. But she may not actually belong in that world and anyways, was it worth leaving the safety of this one, to risk being made fun of by trying to leave for that one?

But Terrence's face was so open, it looked so honestly excited and so simply anxious, that she couldn't doubt him. She glanced over at Thelma, who was looking at her with just as open a face. And her face read, "Are you feakin' nuts?! Let's go home!" She closed her eyes to block out their faces so she could concentrate.

When she opened them again, the numb feeling had disappeared and she felt like a warrior readying for battle. "Tell Mom and John I love them, Thelma," she said as she took Terrence's hand. "And I'll miss you, too."

Thelma ran forward and grabbed at her shoulder to tug her backwards, but Terrence, who was smiling so brightly that it made Madeline shiver, stepped forward into the telephone booth and brought her with him. Her heart barely had time to leap with excitement as she watched Terrence disappear before she was disappearing herself, and Thelma was left clutching at air, facing an open door to an empty out-of-order telephone booth.
***
It was Sir Montague's shift to watch for Terrence. He was sitting in a chair watching the mirror-portal intently when he noticed the string moving slightly. He leapt to his feet with a joyful cry as the squire he loved as a son stepped from the portal. Wrapping Terrence in an embrace, he cried at the top of his lungs, "Call the king! The hero has returned!"

Madeline felt that somewhere in the far distance her body was swept into a whirlwind of excitement as supposedly important people came running from all directions, grabbed Terrence into hugs, and then grabbed her hands in welcoming gestures. But all she was really aware of was her own feeling of complete awe.

Omeyath was real. Terrence had told the truth. He hadn't been hallucinating or suffering from a mental disorder. He had been honestly sane, and honestly earnest when he had asked her to come with him. He had known all along that there was this world of magic and honor, and he had known all along that, when he asked her to come, he would be taking her here. He had meant it when he had said she belonged.

And he couldn't be more right. This world was hers, just as Earth had never been. She could feel it under her skin. Around her were the faces of men and women identical to those in her beloved book, and their words were the same. They spoke of honor, courage, and loyalty, and she knew how to speak in kind – and she was sure that she would be better at it, after some practice. Their mannerisms and viewpoints were her own, even if occasionally expressed differently. She stood frozen in time as all around her this world, this new, rustic, medieval, wonderful world rushed about her, whispering Welcome... welcome... welcome to where you belong...

After a few hours all seemed to have been called who needed to be called, and suddenly Madeline found herself standing outside the tallest of the tents, staring inside into a crowded assembly of ladies, squires, knights, and, somewhere in there, the king himself. Terrence himself was on the outer fringe, laughing with fellow squires, when he turned around and found she hadn't entered the tent yet. His smile disappeared as he rushed outside. "Is something the matter?"

Madeline felt her eyes focus and the awe she was feeling was replaced with pure, simple, abundant joy. She turned shining eyes to him and felt a smile split her face. "Terrence... Terrence, nothing's wrong. This is amazing, Terrence. I never expected anything like this... I thought it was all in stories, none of it was true... I didn't dare hope... I never imagined finding something like this in my life. It's absolutely incredible. Terrence..." Overwhelmed, she impulsively reached out and hugged the squire.

Terrence, surprised, just stared down at her for a moment, before smiling and returning the hug – a little timidly. "Thou must have believed, Lady Madeline, or else why wouldst thou come with me?"

"Don't call me Lady Madeline," she replied, stepping back as common sense took over her joy.

Terrence shook his head. "In thy world, it may have been that thou were not gentility. But in mine world, thou art a grown woman, and thou art taught in the ways of noblewoman. Thou dost speak, behave, eat, and dress like nobility – although, I admit, thou hast thy, ah, unique characteristics."

"You mean 'quirks.'"

"I discover deafness. The point is, Lady Madeline," Terrence stepped back and bowed to her as a squire does to nobility, "thou art gentility here, and thou must accept it. Now, come, the meeting must start, and it cannot start without you."

"Why not?"

Terrence tapped her lightly on the side of her head. "What wouldst thou do, if a guest from another world was present for a war council? Come."

"War council?" Madeline asked, bemused, as Terrence grabbed her hand and led her inside the tent.

The knights, ladies, squires, and king were arranged as they had been the night Terrence left his world, but tonight there was one difference: Squire Terrence and Lady Madeline stood in the center with the king, instead of behind the knights. Terrence beamed with pride and Madeline gaped in wonderment as King Thadeous stepped forward, dressed in regal finery and yet simple pride, a smile on his face and a sword at his side. "Squire Terrence," he began as the murmur of the tent quieted. "We welcome thee! Every night we hath prayed for thy safe return, and here thou be! Tell me, squire, was thy journey well spent?"

"Thou said before I left," Terrence responded, "that failure was to be only in death. And, sire, I have not died."

There was chuckling, and the king beamed brighter. "So I see, squire. And I understand," he said, turning to Madeline, "that thou hast brought someone with thee."

Terrence took Madeline's hand and presented her to the council. "My lords and ladies, Sire, and my fellow men, I wish to present to you Lady Madeline of Earth."

Lady Madeline blushed scarlet and curtsied, hoping desperately she was doing the right thing. Curtsying was difficult because Terrence was still holding her hand, but the ladies all looked on her approvingly and the knights bowed to her. Suddenly Terrence's hand let go and the king's was in its place. She watched in shock as the king bent to kiss her hand. "Lady Madeline, we welcome thee. I hope thou hast found our world to be comforting to thee?"

"Oh," she gasped, "it's – Omeyath is marvelous – Forgive me, sire, for words fail me. I find myself overwhelmed by all that is to be discovered here. Your – Thy world is like home to me, and I discover great joy here."

"Like home to thee?" the king said in surprise. "Thou hast barely been here an hour."

"I have been here a lifetime," Madeline declared. Terrence's smile grew wider.

Then, at the king's urging, Terrence told his story of his journey on Earth. As he began, she listened as intently as the rest of the court, curious to know about his scouting expedition now that she knew his claims to be a scout and squire were true. She laughed and smiled with the rest of the court as he described dodging the police, hiding behind dumpsters, and eating squirrels with a guilty conscience. When Terrence tried to describe the science he encountered, like the horseless carriages and the light bulbs, he often turned to Madeline to ask her to further explain these marvels, and she enjoyed describing the basic science to the lords and ladies. But when Terrence's story reached the day when he met her and Thelma on the school grounds, she found herself blushing and staring at the ground. Terrence seemed to be exaggerating every detail, from her supposed "beauty" to her supposed "charity" to her supposed "graceful dancing." None of which she remembered. She didn't quite understand why he was taking such trouble to repaint her in such glowing detail, when to her opinion so much of it was false.

Finally he finished, with the overly-dramatic telling of how Madeline had left her home to come to the aid of his kingdom (Madeline didn't remember the aid part, either), and the court applauded him. "An amazing tale!" the king exclaimed. "And told in a fine manner. Terrence, thy courage and thy skill is acknowledged by all present. Sir Montague, as his mentor, hast thou anything to say?"

Madeline watched Terrence's face change from its storytelling mode to a look of nervous anticipation and a desire to please. He looked so much like a young, innocent apprentice that she almost giggled. But as Sir Montague stepped forward with a grim look on his face, she managed to swallow her merriment. "Lady Madeline," he asked in a solemn voice, "is the tale of my squire accurate? Are there falsehoods?"

Madeline smiled. "The only lies y– ah, thy squire told were those relating to me. I am not half so clever or wonderful as he hast made me sound. But his own actions are not exaggerated."

The grim look did not stay long. Montague wrapped his arms around his squire once more and held him tightly. "Thou art like a son to me. And thou hast shown courage, honor, and chivalry in thy tale. I am proud to call thee my squire."

Tears came to Terrence's eyes, and the court applauded its approval.

When the formalities were over the council became a war council, and Madeline and Terrence were updated on the war with Valques. "She has, as predicted, struck like lightning, doing small damages to our kingdom," Sir Faltous informed them. "Farms, mines, and forges have been burned and destroyed. Families have been slain. Travelers have disappeared, and some reappeared under the mind-bender curse. Our kingdom is even less safe now than it was when the sorceress was attacking with an army."

"How do we know she does not have an army still?" Sir Tylkane questioned. "How do we know that we destroyed all off the monsters? Surely it would be possible that she could raise more from monsters in other kingdoms."

"How did she upkeep her army before?" Madeline questioned.

Sir Faltous seemed surprised at her inquiries, but answered. "She stole and foraged from the lands she was invading."

"So has food gone missing without being destroyed?"

"Not from any kingdom," Sir Faltous said.

"Previously, while we were at full war," Sir Montague explained, "the forces of Valques cut off communication between our noble kingdom and the kingdoms surrounding us. Each was unable to support the other because Valques was forcing each kingdom to defend itself without being able to spare troops to reinforce their neighbors. But since our last battle with Valques, we have received messengers from all kingdoms declaring open roads and freedom of travel between nations once more."

"So, no mass amount of food has disappeared, and yo– thou canst communicate freely with the other kingdoms?" Madeline repeated. "Then that must mean she has no more army, for if she had, she would need to feed it, and she would use it to lay siege to at least the smallest kingdom."

Understanding of what she meant flickered in Terrence's face, and he smiled at her cleverness.

"And thanks to our fine Squire Terrence," King Thadeous said, "we know that Valques had no contact with the world of Earth. Two worlds, I believe, remain to be explored. Squire Terrence, thou art the master of the portal now, correct?" Terrence nodded. "Then wouldst thou favor us with thy skill and scout the remaining two worlds, in time?" Beaming, the squire nodded.

Somethin started to click in Madeline's mind. "Time out. Terrence, you're – thou art the master of the portal?"

"Yes..."

"So only y– thou canst make it work?"

Terrence cocked his head to one side. "Then how didst thou come with me, from thy world?"

"You – My hand was held by thee."

"True... Perhaps, if another were to try and enter the portal?"

Madeline smiled at Terrence. "Great idea," she said. Sir Tylkane, one of the nearest knights to the portal, abruptly turned about and attempted to enter the portal.

His head and hands pushed the portal over and it clattered to the floor. Hastily he bent to straighten it. "'Tis like a mirror," he said in wonderment. "I cannot pass the surface."

A murmur ran through the crowd. "But then, that being the case," Lady Maglai said, "how was Squire Terrence able to step through before?"

The council murmured amongst itself and Madeline furrowed her brows in concentration. "Perhaps Valques gave up her rights as mistress, thereby freeing up the portal for Terrence to use... Or perhaps..." Her eyes widened in revelation. "Terrence! Are there any requirements to be master of the portal?"

Terrence put on a thoughtful expression. "I'll ask." He stepped into the portal and reappeared a moment later. "The portal says that it will only allow a master who uses the portal to save lives or gain beneficial knowledge."

"Oh, great, a magic thing with morals." Madeline shook her head. "Valques never used this portal. She had no intention of saving lives or gaining beneficial knowledge. She only meant to destroy y – thee. It's my guess that she killed the previous master, then only kept the portal because she was trying to find a spell that would force it to serve her, or something like that." She put a finger to her lips in thought. "So, you don't – thou hast no need to bother with scouting the worlds until after you've solved the Valques problem. Thou canst concentrate fully on defeating thy enemy."

Terrence's face was glowing with pride, which Madeline thought was weird because it was her genius moment, not his. But she smiled back and turned to the king. "Your Highness – Um, actually, what do I call thee?"

"Thou may call the king 'Sire,' Lady Madeline," Sir Faltous instructed.

"Sire," Madeline resumed, "Valques is without an army and without a stronghold. You – Thou hast the fortress in Calion and the army of knights to defeat her, were she to attack thee in thy own home in one final battle."

The council looked shocked at a lady's insistence of speaking to the king so, but King Thadeous was listening patiently. "But Valques does not attack. She strikes like lightning at our farms and roads."

"Then force her to attack you," Madeline insisted. "Make her an offer she can't resist."
***

[[All right, this is the last and worst part. But since you've gotten this far you might as well finish it, right?]]

"Squire Terrence, Lady Madeline, please step forward."

The court of Calion was arranged in its customary circle, with the king in the center. The ranks of ladies and knights parted as the squire from the back of the crowd and the youngest lady from the middle ring made their way to the front. Terrence was dressed in black silk and velvet – his finest clothes, and gifts from his master Sir Montague. Madeline was wearing the blue dress Terrence had made for her only a few weeks ago, when she had been just a nerd on Earth. Faces glowing with pride, they approached King Thadeous, Terrence bowing and Madeline curtseying.

"Friends, dear ones, and court of Calion," King Thadeous declared in a thunderous voice. "On this day our greatest enemy, the most powerful being in Omeyath, hath been defeated. Her undoing came in a single spell and a single arrow, cast by a girl and a squire. But it took more than their aim and their vigor to defeat the sorceress Valques. It took courage, honor, and loyalty. Courage to face power they themselves did not possess. Honor to uphold the court of Callion in a battle that shall be known forever in history as the Battle of Chaos. Loyalty to stand together against incredible odds, defend each other, and together defeat their opponent. Squire Terrence, Lady Madeline," King Thadeous continued, his voice rising in volume and majesty, "We the King honor thee as the bravest of our court. On this day we celebrate thy bravery and thy skill. We owe much to thee; thou hast saved Our people, Our nation, Our life."

He dropped his voice to a low tone. "Lady Madeline, thou did leave thy world to live amongst us. Thou hast said Omeyath is thy home. Thou dost unto us a great honor. Let us do honor unto thee. Ask a boon, and it shall be granted."

A boon. That took some thought. Madeline had everything she could want, didn't she? But then inspiration struck her. "Sire, I ask of thee only one boon."

"Name it, child."

She looked the king in the eye, trying to ignore Terrence's face as his eyes widened in shock. "Have Squire Terrence knighted."

There was a murmur in the court, then King Thadeous shook his head. Madeline was about to shout in anger at this rejection when he said laughingly, "Dost thou not think it already was my intention to knight him?"

"Sire?" Terrence asked, looking as though he didn't believe his ears.

"Lady Madeline," King Thadeous continued, "it is impossible to grant this boon to thee because it is a boon already meant to be granted to Squire Terrence. I must ask thee to request something else."

Madeline shook her head. "I have a place in thy court, with the ladies and scholars present. I have a home in which I belong. I have a friend," she said, blushing slightly, "whom I treasure greatly. I have a king I love and a kingdom I wish to serve. Knight Squire Terrence, and my desires shall be complete."

King Thadous laughed ruefully. "Then, we shall knight Squire Terrence as thy boon. Kneel, Terrence."

Shaking, Terrence knelt and bowed his head. Drawing a golden sword from his side, King Thadeous gently laid the blade on each of Terrence's shoulders, reciting, "We the King hereby knight thee Sir Terrence, Knight of Calion. With this Our sword and this Our word, thou art welcomed into this court. Please rise."

Madeline beamed with pride as Terrence stood, his face glowing, and King Thadeous continued. "Honor always thy God, protect always thy people, be true to thy king. Court of Calion, welcome thy new colleague, Sir Terrence."

Madeline and Terrence then experienced a rush of experiences, triggered by the cheering of the court. After every knight had shaken hands with Terrence and every lady had curtsied to him, the pages and squires had to pound on his back and shake his hands as well. Then King Thadeous had announced a feast, accompanied by musicians and acrobats, which Madeline found so distracting that she almost could not eat the delicious food. That was followed by a solemn procession to the courtyard, where the court watched as the head mage burned the body of Valques with great ceremony. When the ashes had been divided into three piles and sealed into stone canisters, Madeline had finally asked for permission to go to bed, because she suddenly felt exhausted, and Terrence had volunteered to help her up to her chamber.

"Why is everyone looking at us funny?" Madeline muttered as they walked back inside.

"Funny?" Terrence questioned.

Madeline flicked her hand to the right. Glancing over in that direction, Terrence saw a group of ladies huddled together. They looked away when Terrence glanced at them but they couldn't stop giggling and tittering. "Oh," Terrence said.

"So why are they looking at us like that?" Madeline demanded again. "They didn't look at us like that yesterday."

Terrence thought about this as they climbed up the stairs to the corridor of ladies' bedchambers. "Perhaps because I was not a knight yesterday."

"I don't see what that has to do with it."

Terrence looked at the floor for a bit, then at the wall, then at the ceiling. "Well, since thou arrived thou hast been a lady, one of gentility. And I was a squire, a servant. And, well, now I am a knight, one of gentility as well."

Madeline noticed that he was purposely looking at everything except her. "Okaaaaaaaaaaaay..." she said. "Keep going."

Terrence took a breath. "Since I have been knighted, it now makes me eligible to court thee."

"OH." Madeline suddenly found it difficult to look at Terrence herself. For a while they walked up the stairs in silence, but finally curiosity got the better of her and she asked, in as nonchalant a tone as possible, "Isn't there another lady you'll be trying to court? I saw one just about your age, with red hair. Lady Eileen, wasn't it?"

"I hardly know Lady Eileen," Terrence responded immediately. "I know none of the ladies. The most I have ever encountered them has been during formal occasions, when I was made to bow to them and dance politely with their younger sisters."

"Ah."

"And thee?" Terrence asked. "Since thou arrived some of the younger, newer knights could court thee. Is there one you would acknowledge, should he try? Sir Tellamoor with the black hair was very courteous to thee –"

"And he's very boring. No thanks," Madeline said swiftly. "I don't want to be courted by any of those guys."

There followed a few more minutes of silence. They reached Madeline's bedchamber door and both paused, unsure of what to do. They both knew that the sensible thing would be for Terrence to bow, say goodnight, and walk away, but Terrence wasn't moving.

Finally Madeline took a deep breath, put on a frustrated face, and snapped, "This is ridiculous. You and I have traveled to different worlds together and killed a sorceress together. You're my best friend. We should be completely honest with each other and this awkward conversation is completely stupid."

"I do not argue with thee," Terrence said, looking a little confused.

"Then when I ask this question, be completely honest, okay?"

"All right..."

Madeline took another deep breath. "Terrence, doyoulikeme?" she asked in a rush.

"I discover deafne- "

"Oh, fiddlesticks, all right then," Madeline snapped. "Terrence, do - you - want - to - court - me?"

Terrence, for a moment, was very still. Then a blush covered his face and he looked at her piercingly. "It would give me great honor to court thee. But is that what thou dost want?"

Madeline stared at the floor. "Yeah... yeah, Terrence, that's what I want."

Terrence reached over and took her hand. "Then, Lady Madeline, I shall see thee tomorrow, and look forward to it with great pleasure."

"Sure," Madeline muttered, staring at the hand in hers. She looked up at Terrence's face, which was smiling, and suddenly felt light-headedly happy. She had a home in a land of magic and knights. She was an acknowledged war hero. And her best friend was now her beau. It was almost too much to register. Giving in to impulse, she suddenly threw her arms around Terrence's neck and kissed him.

Pulling back she smiled roguishly into his stunned face. "I know that's not proper etiquette here," she said, "but I'm not sorry."

Terrence just stared at her, before taking her chin in his thumb and forefinger and angling her face slightly upward. "There are two more worlds in the portal for me to explore. Wouldst thou come with me?"

"Of course," Madeline answered. "And, once a year, could we visit Earth? Just to show Mom I'm okay."

"Of course," Terrence answered.

Madeline closed her eyes, imagining how the next years were going to be. She and Terrence, each with their traveling bags and weapons, heading through the portal hand in hand to explore the unknown. Of course, she would wear her trousers and jerkin instead of a dress. It would be easier to adventure that way. And by the time they had finished exploring one world, she would be a devil with a dagger, just as Terrence was unmatched by bow and arrow. They'd be a fighting force together, when facing the wilderness. But at the same time she'd bring a dress to change into should they be called to be ambassadors for Omeyath in the courts of the people of other worlds. If Earth was the land of science and Omeyath of magic, then who knows what peoples or wonders were to be seen in the other two worlds yet to be discovered? For years she had dreamed of adventuring, but knowing that now she could, and she would, and Terrence would be with her every step of the way... It filled her world with so many possibilities, so much joy.

And while her eyes were closed, Terrence bent and kissed her back.

Hey 2012,

Hi from the classmate that loves you, all of you, though some more than others. Hi from a girl that loves you, your humble servant. Hi from me, goody-two-shoes me, who may not approve of what you do but who always knows why and how you do it.

In June, instead of saying hello, I will be saying goodbye. I'll be standing amongst you in a white dress, holding roses, singing a song, and fighting to stem the flow of my inevitable, shameful tears. We'll eat dessert, hug, and take pictures, and then part, forever or for never. When that day comes, I have one request.

Don't remember me.

I'm saying this because I love you. Don't remember me. Don't laugh at any joke, story, or picture I ever made. Don't even look at my page in the yearbook. I'm temporary, transitory, and always have been. Please, don't remember me, and let me fade out, and move on.

Hey 2012...