"Why?"

I looked down at Myranda. She looked asleep. I watched her carefully.

"What?" I asked.

"Why are you frightened of what you are to be?"

Myranda's lips never moved. I looked around, trying to find the female intruder reading my mind and thoughts.

"Who are you? Where are you?"

"I am where you want me to be, or rather where you were destined to want me. I will show you."

As I watched, a blue-silhouetted form rose from Myranda's body. I looked on, frozen by the face and body of the girl in front of me. She was naked and incredibly beautiful, not necessarily in that order. Her hand reached out to take mine. I could not pull away or refuse, though I did not prompt my response, despite the emotions, the lusts welling inside me.

"I am Sharmayn. You are my consort, if you so choose."

"I have a choice?"

She sat beside me, opposite Myranda, her glow effusing throughout the room.

"Absolutely. All mortals have choices when dealing with gods, for without mortals and their beliefs that we have power over them, we are powerless."

"You do not have power over us?"

"On the contrary, almost absolute in some cases. It is your belief in us that gives us the power over you, and the stronger the belief, the more absolute our power."

"Then what choice do I have; do we have?"

"The choice whether or not to let us have the power you grant us over you. We are only as powerful as you let us be. I was trapped by a power stronger than my own because no one believed I could resist. I remained trapped because no one believed I could free myself. I was trapped until a series of events awakened the subconscious of a believer strong enough to give me the strength to break free. You were that believer. Your master, whoever, instilled in you a great respect for the gods, all of them, and an even greater belief in their power. I owe you for freeing me. It was your belief in your gods and myths that allowed Fate to work your subconscious into a force strong enough to free me. But the rest of the legend, the future of the legend, is in your hands."

"Karnelian, my first master, said the future was always changing."

"It is. Myth, legend, astrology, nothing can foretell the future, and only men, mortals, can shape it. You are handsome to me, and you have already proven your strength. You would be a good consort to a goddess. But I must have your answer, for I am forbidden to stay in this place for too long."

I looked at Her, and longed to hold Her. I reached for Her, and felt a small tingling sensation from my right hand, from my ring. I looked away, for just an instant, to look at my ring. The hand it was on rested across Myranda's delicate fingers. I turned back, my choice made. Sharmayn was gone.

"I'm sorry," I said into the night.

The wind whispered back in answer with a warming, caressing breeze.

"Don't be."

I turned again to Myranda. She was looking up at me, but it was not her seeing. Her eyes glowed softly blue.

"Your love for her is far more than your love for me could ever be. No greater love could exist. Love her, and in doing so, strengthen me by strengthening the love between you. Remember what I have said."

Her hand came up and stroked through my hair, then Myranda's eyes closed and it was as if she had never awakened, if indeed she had. I lay beside her and took her into my arms again. She awoke smiling, and whispered to me.

"What?"

"I love you."

We kissed, then rested together and finally fell asleep holding each other. The feeling was like nothing on this world. I was content and peaceful for the first time in many months.

We awoke late and refreshed. If Myranda remembered anything of the night's mystical, nay, deitic, activities, she said nothing of it, though she did notice a change in me, one I was not aware of.

"What happened to your hair?"

"What do you mean?" I was not at all aware that anything had happened to my hair, and, at the moment, I had no way of finding out as mirrors are rather scarce in a war party's camp.

"Your hair, part of it has turned shock white, right in the middle."

I didn't have to act surprised; I was. I found out real fast just how scarce a mirror is in a war party's camp as I ran from tent to tent trying to find one, eventually using the polished bottom of a cooking bowl. The distorted reflection I saw there was quite shocking indeed. The gods had marked me, Sharmayn had marked me last night in a fashion I could not conceive of. From crown to nape, from follicle to split end, a two inch band of hair was an alabaster white striking through the auburn brown.

"Gods."

At this point, Moonflame finally caught up with us.

"It would appear so. Good morn to the both of you. Sleep well?"

He looked momentarily at me with a half-question, half-answer in his eye, then told us that an early lunch would be served shortly. He turned and walked off, not waiting for a reply.

"What did this to you? No, I don't want to know. Are you feeling well?"

"Myranda, my love, I am feeling inhumanly well. That is probably because I am suffering from acute shock and will probably pass out right about now," which I proceeded not to do, though it would have been a strange sort of justice if I had. Instead, I fell into Myranda's open and waiting arms and held her for the longest time until the luncheon was called. As we left, she backed up half a step, took a long look at me and tried to make me feel better.

"It actually looks good on you. Now you're really special."

"Gee, thanks. I needed that."

We laughed and went to eat. As the others had been in camp when I had gone rampaging through it, none of them were at all surprised when I told them that I had a shock of white hair on top of my head. It also came as no surprise to me when they laughed and said that they could see that. Ahmail pulled me aside after lunch, said that something like that might look good in his hair, and asked me in a very deliberate whisper if Myranda had any sisters. I very kindly told him no and then proceeded to very politely ruin his clothes and soil his armour in a wrestling match fit for the ring. It ended in a draw, but it was very therapeutic. We were still friends, certainly, and from that moment, much more than brothers.

But the mark still bothered me. Why leave me with such an obvious reminder of the night's visit?

"Remember what I have said."

I remembered. The mark was a reminder to me to remember Sharmayn's words and to hold them sacred at all times, regardless of the power I allowed Her or any of the gods to hold over me. That was the important point I was still missing, that I gave them power and command over me. This knowledge was all I had to show for the time and effort someone had put into forming my dreams and creating the situations capable of causing them. There was obvious power in that knowledge, but how much? And how well must I guard that power? The answer to that was even more obvious than the power in the knowledge. I would have to guard both power and knowledge with my life, if necessary, and regardless of any other predicaments I would undoubtedly get myself into. It would be a hard job, especially alone.

Myranda's kiss reminded me that I wasn't alone. She hooked her arm into mine and we walked to the outskirts of the camp to a wooded area, a circle of birch and cedar. I noticed the others wandering out on their own as well, all but Moonflame who was not to be seen.

"Where is Moonflame?"

"He's in his tent. He's brooding because he's no longer the strangest and most handsome person in this band." She laughed. "No, he is trying some sort of magic to gain aid from the elementals in the battle. He asked us to leave in case one of the spells backfired. He said three hours should be plenty. I don't think it's enough, do you?"

The next three hours were spent in a much more pleasant type of wrestling match. We both won. But they were ended in a belch of thunder and helsmoke as a gigantic hand of black mist came up out of the ground and clenched into its fist Moonflame's tent then retreated once again into the earth leaving behind only the stench of D'rk Ysle behind. All of us were quick to return to camp to try to find some sort of clue. Myranda tried some of her elemental magic and found that it had not been the earth elementals that had taken Moonflame, so we had to assume that the Dark One had somehow locked onto Moonflame with his mindgrasp and taken him through the dark forces only he controlled. I turned to Myranda.

"Call the others from their homes. We leave. Now."

It was actually several hours before all of the others arrived from the village, for they wanted to come prepared to leave, some bringing several beasts to carry their arms and accessories.

Hiachmal Truth was the first to arrive, bringing with him only his sword and shield and the armor on his back. He had many questions, but most of them could not be answered directly, as I didn't know the answers. Next to arrive were the three brothers, Gar, C'ang Ling, and L'gan. Finally, Ponnph'r appeared with a small band of his warriors. We made quite a motley crew, and a rather uncertain one at that. I began speaking, taking command, surprising, if not them, at least myself.

"Moonflame has been taken. How, I do not know, though I believe it was by the Dark Lord's mindgrasp. We must, then, try to take the Dark Lord's fortress on our own."

"Master Hawklok, if I might interrupt."

"Continue, Ponnph'r."

"Thank you. We need Moonflame for this attack if it is to succeed. He has the crystal shard from the castle on Muriel. Without it, we haven't a chance."

"We have a chance if we postpone our attack and raise a larger force. I propose we separate onto the Carousel and seek out warriors and warlocs, meeting at the western-most gate of Cymor in two weeks' time."

"Moonflame may not live that long, Hawk."

It was Ahmail that spoke. I looked at him and for the first time saw real concern in his eyes.

"I know, Ahmail. Believe me, I know. But we really don't have a chance any other way. We cannot free Moonflame from the Dark Lord without first defeating the Dark One himself. If anyone at all can suggest an alternative, any alternative, I will gladly change my proposal, but I see none other."

The gathering was silent, either deep in thought or already agreed. I stood and waited. Myranda stepped forward, taking my hand.

"What about the Remnants?" she asked.

"I will seek them out myself. If I cannot find them in a fortnight, I will meet them on D'rk Ysle and speak with them there."

"You can't do that alone."

"I hadn't planned on it. I'll need your magic, all of it."

I left the ultimate meaning of this final statement for her consideration. I saw in her eyes that she realized what it might mean if we did have to go to D'rk Ysle. She squeezed my hand tighter and nodded.

"I'm ready," she said quietly.

I looked up at the others. Apparently, no other alternative could be found.

"You all know Karnelian's former pupils, far better than I, too. Go to them first, those that still live, and ask them for their aid. Then go into the towns and cities. There, enlist anybody with a sword or a spell. Promise them anything. Tell them whatever you feel comfortable telling them. Myranda and I will seek out the Remnants and we will all regroup at Cymor. We must make haste. Majestrix will create a bridge to Qyn. Once there, all speed."

I withdrew Majestrix, my most beautiful blade, and opened my mind. I saw Qyn; I saw Cymor; I saw the western gate. The blade spun as it had on Qayk, releasing blue, black, and gold energy in an ever-widening circle. Finally, it stopped and settled comfortably into my hand. I led my "army" through the bridge onto Qyn, leaving the serene beauty and peace of Neverwhere very reluctantly.

Once there, we made our farewells, separating into four groups, the triplets as one, the brothers and Truth as a second, Ponnph'r a third, each party taking along a group from Ponnph'r's band, and Myranda and myself made the fourth.

Myranda and I entered the city, hoping to purchase horses and some provisions. We had gone no further than the second crossroad when an alarm was blown from the city walls. Looking up, we saw a contingency of five demondarcs descending into the city. They landed directly in front of the two of us, black fire surrounding their equally black forms. One in front, apparently the leader, stretched out his arm toward me and raised a finger, motioning me forward.

I drew Majestrix slowly, trying to hide my fear, which I felt to be all too obvious, behind my hatred of these creatures that had killed Karnelian. As I came even closer, the leader motioned to stop. In a voice that sounded like hissing coals, it spoke.

"You are the one called Hawklok?"

I nodded.

"We present you with a compromise from the High Lord of D'rk Ysle."

I remained silent, but whether from fear, prudence, or curiosity I know not.

"Our Master has imprisoned the Elderonian known to you as Moonflame in his dungeons. He requests, for his release, the surrendering of your blade and necklace. That is all. Not too high a price for your friend, is it?"

I stood motionless, letting these implications register. I knew already that I would not give up Majestrix or Chronistrix, but letting them think I was thinking it over gave me time to think myself. Why the sword and necklace? Why not the other boltstone items? What if I refused?

"What if I refuse all of this?"

"Then the Elderonian suffers until you refuse nothing."

"Then that's settled."

I entered into them swinging Majestrix with all the skill Karnelian had tried to teach me and opening my mind to Majestrix as Moonflame had taught me. I had the two best masters of their crafts as tutors; I could win.

With a sudden surge of energy, I continued slashing into the blackness of their forms, forcing two of them to flight. Unfortunately for the other three, Majestrix left little but black mists dissipating in the wind. As I slowed my whirlwind pace, I felt a second presence leaving my mind, a presence barely remembered, as if from a dream.

"Remember...."

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