Faerie Story:  Chapter Seven

Skinner and Alexin met up with Frohike and Langly only two hours after dawn the following morning.

Which was a miracle as far as Skinner was concerned.

Alexin had somehow managed to bathe, dress and pretty himself to his own satisfaction in less than an hour. A process which had taken him an entire morning to achieve the previous day. Admittedly, the fact that Alexin didn’t waste over an hour choosing which of his two gowns to wear – instead simply settling for wearing the one he *hadn’t* chosen the day before – coupled with the fact that Skinner didn’t haul him into bed halfway through the process, was one reason for the unexpected speed with which they left the inn.

But Skinner was pretty certain that the real reason Alexin achieved the miraculously fast dressing of himself was that the boy was eager to leave the city.

Something that, in itself, confused him.

Alexin had no real reason to want to leave the comfort of the city they were in – since Skinner had deliberately understated the possible threat of a Faerie raid to the boy - and every reason to kick up his heels about the idea of spending at least two more nights in the open as they headed for Crystal City.

Yet, Alexin seemed bouncy and eager to leave. So much so that he didn’t even make a fuss when Skinner said they were leaving too early in the morning for them to have a proper breakfast at the inn.

That surprising capitulation, of course, had its own alternative explanation too. The fact Skinner had to visit the market for provisions for their journey meant he had no excuse not to call into the bootmakers and collect Alexin’s new boots. And because Alexin needed to try the boots on, they *both* ended up visiting the market, which just happened to mean they passed a baker’s shop filled with freshly baked pastries such as Alexin had drooled over the night before. Alexin soon made up for missing his cooked breakfast by stuffing himself happily with three huge fruit pastries and a honey cake. He also, by stamping his foot petulantly, ensured that Skinner purchased a small supply of further cakes and pastries in addition to the bread they needed for their journey.

It was, though, when they reached the stables that Skinner fully understood Alexin’s cheerful attitude about leaving.

Alexin wanted to play with his latest pretty ‘toy’.

While Frohike and Langly haggled with the horse dealer for mounts of their own, and Skinner started saddling his and Alexin’s horses and attaching the bags of provisions to their haunches, Alexin occupied himself with the apparently greatly important task of choosing a name for his horse.

When questioned, the horse dealer had helpfully announced that the grey had been named Igus by his previous owner. Skinner had thought nothing of it until Alexin’s lower lip had begun to tremble. Skinner couldn’t see whether the green eyes were brimming behind the dark glasses, but he was willing to lay any bet that they were.

“What’s wrong?” he’d demanded, after the horse dealer had left them, torn between concern and irritation at Alexin’s tears.

“Igus is an *ugly* name,” Alexin had wailed.

Skinner’s irritation had won, and he’d snapped, “Well, just choose a new damned name for the beast.”

Alexin had sulked momentarily at Skinner’s tone, but then had brightened quickly at the prospect of renaming the horse something more appropriate to its beauty. He had finally narrowed his choice to two names, but was still agonizing over which of them to pick, when Langly and Frohike finally joined them.

“Please tell me *you* don’t need to rename your horse something ‘pretty’, too,” Skinner demanded, with a dramatic roll of his eyes, as Frohike led a sorrel horse in their direction. The sorrel was the horse that Alexin had described the previous day as ‘too small’, though it was still substantially larger than the pretty grey gelding Alexin had chosen. So the sorrel still dwarfed its new owner. Langly had chosen the black with the ‘mean’ look in its eyes. And, to be fair, seeing the horse for a second time, Skinner *did* think the beast had a look of temper about it.

The little Faerie blinked in surprise at Skinner’s comment, then snorted. “I never name anything I might end up eating,” he chuckled.

Alexin gave a squeal of horror. “Eating?” he demanded, his chin trembling. He turned quickly to his grey gelding and said, “Don’t you listen to the nasty man, Dinah.”

“Dinah? You’re calling it *Dinah*?” Skinner demanded, frowning darkly.

“What’s wrong with the name ‘Dinah’?” Langly asked.

Frohike chuckled. “Ask me later,” he snickered.

Mounting proved somewhat of a problem. Frohike was too short to reach the stirrup of his sorrel stallion and Langly proved too slight to successfully give him a leg up. Skinner’s temper over the horse’s name was quickly forgotten as he roared with laughter at the two men’s antics as each attempt by Langly to help Frohike onto the sorrel ended with both men sprawled in a heap on the dusty floor. Only the necessity to get going finally convinced him to stop laughing and give Frohike a boost up onto his horse himself.

Trying to get Alexin onto his horse proved even more problematic. The moment Skinner began to help him to mount the boy decided abruptly that he was scared of heights, even the slight additional height of sitting on a horse’s back. From his whitened face and sudden trembling, it was clear he wasn’t simply after attention. He genuinely *was* scared of climbing onto the horse.

Skinner tried soothing him, and then tried bribing him, and then finally he lost his temper once more and said that if Alexin refused to ride ‘Dinah’, then Alexin would have to walk to Crystal City and they might as well *eat* the gelding while they traveled since the horse dealer wouldn’t repurchase it.

“You really need to learn a little more patience, Skinner,” Frohike advised him, as Alexin sobbed his heart out into Dinah’s mane while they rode out of Stonekeep City.

“I know,” Skinner sighed, hating himself for Alexin’s sobbing misery. “It’s just that I’m trying to save his *life*, Frohike. How can I do that if the boy is too sore to walk and too scared to ride? If I had to be a little cruel to force him into mounting the damn beast, then so be it. At least he’s *on* the horse now.”

“You could simply have told him he was hurting Dinah’s feelings by refusing to mount. It would have worked just as well,” Frohike suggested.

“I’m not going to play *that* game,” Skinner growled. “It’s a horse. It has no feelings. The sooner Alexin understands that, the better.”

“Why?” Frohike demanded, blinking with confusion at Skinner’s aggressive attitude.

But Skinner just shrugged, unable to explain what was going on in his head. All he knew was that ‘Dinah’ was bothering him in some vague but disturbing fashion.

Still, he *did* feel bad about making Alexin cry. So he rode up to him, dug into one of his saddle bags and offered the boy a pastry as a peace offering.

For all of about ten seconds Alexin hesitated, clearly torn between wanting to continue his sulk and the lure of the pastry, and then he snatched the treat out of Skinner’s hands and, although he just sniffed in Skinner’s direction to make it clear he hadn’t actually forgiven him, Alexin still ceased his crying and instead munched happily on the pastry as they rode.

They covered far more ground that day than Skinner had expected.

From being terrified of even sitting on the horse, Alexin soon became totally enthralled by the ‘fun’ of cantering. He refused point-blank to trot, saying it shook his bones too horribly, was too frightened to gallop, and mere walking quickly bored him, but at a nice steady canter he was clearly thrilled. He loved feeling the air rushing past his face and the excitement of finding himself to be such an excellent rider.

At least in *his* opinion.

Dinah turned out to have a lovely, flowing, steady canter and was so placid and well trained that he simply followed the lead of the other three horses, changing direction and pace whenever they did. Alexin could have been sitting in a chair for all the actual ‘riding’ he was doing.

But Alexin was smiling with pride and pleasure in his ‘ability’, and they were consequently moving swiftly, so Skinner began to doubt his instincts over the grey. The only actual complaint he had over the horse was that it was too damned perfect to be true, and that was hardly a *valid* reason for his dislike of the beast.

Despite Dinah’s good paces and the relative comfort of the side-saddle, by late afternoon Alexin was clearly in a great deal of discomfort. Clearly, because he made no effort to conceal his aches from the other three. He began whining constantly, something he was remarkably successful at since he had the rare talent of being able to twist his face into pouts and sulks while still somehow remaining undeniably pretty.

“I can’t listen to this any longer,” Skinner groaned, unable to bear Alexin’s all too audible misery.

“We should camp for the night,” Frohike suggested.

“There’s still a good two hours of daylight,” Langly argued. “We could manage another fifteen miles at this pace before stopping.”

“The sooner we make camp tonight, the less sore Alexin will be tomorrow. If we keep going until he’s in real pain, he might be too stiff tomorrow to ride at all,” Skinner said.

Frohike gave him an approving look.

“What?” Skinner demanded gruffly. “Just because I’m sometimes a little harsh with the boy doesn’t mean I don’t care when he’s genuinely suffering.”

“I didn’t *say* anything,” Frohike pointed out, with a smirk.

Skinner called a halt and Alexin slid off Dinah with a dramatic groan of relief. “My bottom’s *really* sore,” he announced, rubbing his right cheek which had borne most of his weight due to the design of the side-saddle.

“Want me to give you a massage?” Langly offered, with a faux innocent smile.

Frohike angrily clipped his lover across the back of the head. “Massage? I’ll give you a damned massage on *your* buttocks if you aren’t careful.”

“You and whose army?” Langly challenged, sticking his tongue out.

“Don’t tempt me,” Frohike snorted. “My hands are so stiff from holding my horse’s reins that they’d *love* a nice, warm work out.”

Alexin giggled softly, though he didn’t truly grasp what Frohike was threatening. Somehow he failed to relate the conversation to the way Skinner often paddled his own buttocks scarlet. He merely found Frohike and Langly’s constant bickering to be good entertainment.

“Your horse’s saddle and bridle need to be taken off,” Skinner told Alexin.

The boy just shrugged as though he had no idea what such a comment had to do with him and, very carefully, sat down on the ground, pulled out his make up pouch and a small mirror, and began to fix the kohl around his eyes. “That wind made my eyes water,” he muttered, rubbing fretfully at a small amount of kohl that had bled onto his cheeks. “And my hair’s tangled. You’re going to have to comb it for me later,” he stated firmly.

Skinner took a deep breath, decided not to bite since he couldn’t handle Alexin in tears again or Frohike’s gentle disapproval if he *did* snap at the boy, and he removed Dinah’s tack himself. Even though he knew it would do the boy far more good to do a little light exercise and thus loosen the muscles strained by their long ride.

Looking at the faint sweat stain on the gray's back, he had an idea.

“Alexin? While I build a fire and get supper ready, how about you groom the horses? Then I’ll comb your hair for you before we go to bed.”

Alexin smirked at the promise of being groomed himself but looked totally bewildered by the suggestion that the horses needed to be tended also.

Skinner found the horse brush he’d bought and demonstrated how to sweep it over Dinah’s back. “See how much he likes to be brushed?” he coaxed. “Don’t you want to make the horses happy?”

Alexin frowned thoughtfully for a moment. “I don’t see why I should brush *your* horrid horses. The horrid horses you don’t even want to name because you’re planning to eat them anyway. But I’ll brush *Dinah*. I want to make Dinah happy.”

Skinner just chuckled under his breath. He’d never expected the boy to agree to groom even his own horse, so he counted it a victory. Even standing there sweeping a brush half-heartedly over Dinah’s flanks would help to ease any tightness in Alexin’s muscles.

“He’s *definitely* not slow witted,” Langly pointed out a little later, as he chopped vegetables for a stew and Skinner prepared the meat.

“What?” Skinner said, frowning with confusion.

“Alexin,” Langly clarified. “That comment about our ‘horrid’ horses was a gem. One throwaway joke by Frohike hours ago about ‘eating’ his horse and Alexin stores it away, then uses it later as a justification for his own laziness. That’s *smart* thinking in my book. Shame neither of you made any cruel comments about the vegetables to give *me* an excuse to be lazy.”

Skinner laughed. “I suppose he *is* lazy. But, considering he’s never had to do a thing for himself in his life before, I think *anything* he does involving physical labor is pretty laudable. This is hard for him, Langly. He can’t truly comprehend a lot of the things that we take for granted. We all understand that life is hard and that it requires constant work on our parts to ensure our survival. *He* still thinks food appears miraculously out of thin air. And, to be honest, I don’t mind. Had I the power to do so, I’d gladly settle him in a beautiful home and hire servants to pamper him and he’d never have to raise even his smallest finger in his own care. The only reason I suggested he groomed the horses at all was to keep him on his feet for a little while so he doesn’t stiffen up too badly. Still, that damned horse must be shining like silver by now. I can’t believe Alexin’s been brushing it for over half an hour.”

“He hasn’t,” Frohike chuckled. “He lost interest in *brushing* it after about five minutes. If you weren’t sitting with your back to him, you’d have noticed.”

“Then what *is* he doing?” Skinner demanded curiously, turning to look over his shoulder. His eyes immediately bugged in astonishment, his temper flared and he roared, “Alexin, stop playing with that damned horse. Even if you’re not tired yet, I’m sure *it* is.”

Alexin pretended not to hear him and continued to clumsily plait Dinah’s mane.

“Why don’t you leave the boy alone?” Frohike suggested quietly. “He’s too sore to sit and, as you said yourself, a little gentle exercise will do him good.”

“He could help us prepare the food,” Skinner pointed out grumpily.

“We don’t *need* any help and, anyway, he’d probably faint if you suggested it,” Frohike laughed. “He’s happy and he’s occupied. He isn’t whining about his sore bottom or complaining that he’s ‘bored’. So, frankly, I can’t see your problem.”

Skinner wasn’t entirely sure what his problem was either. Alexin *was* smiling happily as he threaded sections of Dinah’s long mane into fine braids, and the horse was perfectly content to let him do so. It was just standing there, eyes closed, one hoof resting on a tip and its breath blowing out of its nostrils in a soft, placid rhythm. No one, it seemed, thought Alexin’s preoccupation with his pretty horse was disturbing.

No one, except himself.

He frowned suddenly as he saw a white glint in Alexin’s hands as they moved over the silver-white mane.

“That had better not be *your* comb you’re using,” he snapped. “I didn’t pay two gold pieces for a fancy comb so that you could dress a damned *horse’s* hair with it.”

This time Alexin acknowledged his comment, but with an angry flick of his head, a stamp of his foot and an irritated, “It’s *my* comb, *my* horse and even the gold pieces were from the sale of *my* gems. So if I want to use the comb on Dinah, I *will*.”

“He’s got you there,” Langly chuckled.

Which just inflamed Skinner’s temper further. “Speak to me in that tone again, Alexin, and you’ll be face down over my lap.”

Alexin’s petty attempt at defiance crumbled instantly into huge, tear filled eyes and a dramatically quivering mouth.

Both Frohike and Langly gave Skinner shocked, disapproving looks.

Skinner flushed a little. He knew he was over-reacting but somehow he was still *sure* there was something intrinsically wrong with the amount of affection Alexin was showing to the gelding.

“He supposedly can’t even comb his *own* hair,” he pointed out defensively. “But he can happily mess about with that damned beast.”

“Jealousy’s an ugly thing under any circumstances,” Frohike said, shaking his head in disapproval. “But jealousy over an *animal* is actually rather pathetic.”

“I’m not *jealous* of the horse,” Skinner protested.

“No? Then what exactly *is* your problem?”

Skinner frowned in thought. “I don’t know exactly. It’s just that my gut tells me it’s a seriously bad idea to let Alexin get too fond of that horse.”

“Too late,” Langly laughed. “The kid’s obviously never had a pet before. The fact it’s as pretty as he is just compounds the issue. I think it’s cute, really, the way Alexin’s fussing over it.”

“Yes?” Skinner growled. “How would you feel if Frohike had named *his* horse ‘my beloved’?”

“Is that what Dinah means?” Langly demanded. “I think that’s even *more* cute. And, let’s face it, considering how frightened Alexin turned out to be of riding, it’s a damned good job he *is* in love with Dinah.”

“See?” Frohike said. “You *are* jealous of the horse.”

“I am not jeal... Alexin, don’t you *dare* put flowers in its mane!”

“You were saying?” Frohike chuckled.

Skinner blushed again and gave in. He *did* sound jealous. Re-running his own words over in his head, it was no wonder Alexin was pulling faces at him and looking like he was going to burst into a screaming tantrum at any second. He still had the deep feeling that Alexin’s affection for the horse was going to become a problem, but he had to admit he couldn’t come up with any convincing arguments of *why* he thought so.

Maybe it was a premonition that the horse would twist its leg in a pothole or something and so have to be abandoned or even put out of its misery, thus breaking Alexin’s heart. But he hardly wanted to suggest *that* terrible possibility to the highly strung boy. Maybe he should just wait and deal with the problem if or when it came up.

“Don’t put too *many* flowers in its mane,” he snapped gruffly and, despite his tone, Alexin grinned happily at the obvious capitulation and kissed Dinah’s muzzle in celebration.

Skinner bit back his automatic protest and simply reminded himself to make sure the boy thoroughly swilled his mouth with water before bedtime.

He found himself glad of his decision to bank his irritation over the horse a couple of hours later, when a tired, happy and well fed Alexin was purring in his lap and chattering eagerly about how much ‘fun’ he’d had that day.

Although the boy’s largely nonsensical conversation was so regularly interspersed with ‘Dinah this' and 'Dinah that’ that Skinner was barely listening to what Alexin was actually saying, he couldn’t argue that it was pleasant to simply sit there while combing Alexin’s hair, and listen to the happy tones of Alexin’s husky but melodious voice.

“Why don’t you tell us about Crystal City?” Langly suggested, when Alexin’s chatter finally petered out and the boy’s breath eased into the steady rhythm of slumber as Skinner rocked him to sleep on his lap.

So, with Alexin cradled in his arms and the boy’s face nestled into Skinner’s neck so that he could feel the boy’s soft breath breezing over his flesh, Skinner told Langly the history of the two Crystal Cities.

Though he deliberately downplayed his own role in the drama, giving all the credit for his survival of the exodus to Foe Slayer and pointing out that it was his ignorance of the Faerie which had led him to choose to settle in the lush valley near Scall, rather than a ‘wise’ decision, both Langly and Frohike still seemed impressed by his tale.

“So you never took a wife, after the death of Shrona?” Frohike asked.

“I had always dreamed of a woman who equaled my mother’s extraordinary beauty, and thought to find no such woman in the Southern Territories,” Skinner replied.

“What a shock it must have been for you, to finally find that woman and then discover her to be a boy,” Langly chuckled.

“Shock? I was horrified,” Skinner admitted. “Though, it must be said that Alexin was probably equally horrified to find that I was a man.”

“He thought you to be female?” Langly demanded incredulously.

“Not female, but definitely a strange hybrid of both sexes,” Skinner laughed.

“I can see why he would,” Frohike said. “He’d never seen musculature like yours on any but a female. It’s no wonder he was greatly confused by you.”

“I found it difficult that he constantly described me as womanly,” Skinner confessed, with a rueful laugh. “Though I understood he meant it as a compliment. Although I am far from what he expected in a mate, I dare to believe he does truly find me attractive. If only because I’m ‘womanly’.”

“Speaking of attraction,” Langly said, flushing slightly, “I think it’s time we bid you goodnight, Skinner. My blood always longs for Frohike’s touch, but it’s becoming a little insistent at this moment.” He raised his right arm to show the veins which were beginning to rise to prominence on his flesh.

Skinner’s blood gave an answering surge. “I, too,” he admitted slowly. “But I must speak of something with you before we part for the night. Because I need the tear-magic for Alexin’s protection, I must reduce him to tears before we lay together.” He blushed furiously, unable to meet either Frohike or Langly’s eyes. “This is not only my choice, but at Alexin’s insistence,” he stressed. “He fears the idea of me losing the power of his darker magic even more than the method of its extraction.”

“I understand that,” Frohike murmured. “These are dangerous times for us all.”

Skinner nodded. “I speak of this because... well, because both of you have shown many protective feelings towards him over the past two days. You, quite rightly, oft point out my failures to treat him with sufficient kindness and understanding.”

“We mean no insult to you,” Langly said worriedly.

“And I take none. I know I *am* sometimes a little less patient than I should be, though I’m striving to correct that flaw in myself. I find myself constantly torn between my desire to treat Alexin with the consideration I would show to a girl of such tender breeding and my difficulty with comprehending that a *boy* is so fragile in both body and emotion.”

“You are as much a product of your upbringing as Alexin is,” Frohike pointed out. “In human society, a boy like Alexin is ‘unnatural’.”

“Yes,” Skinner agreed. “But he isn’t human. He’s Faerie. I am coming to understand that, and to accept and embrace his differences as part of what makes him so extraordinary and special but, every now and then, I forget myself and deal with him as though he is a slow witted, unnaturally ‘girlish’, human boy.”

“All relationships take time to settle,” Langly shrugged. “Even after twenty years, Fro and I still stumble over our differences, and *he* was raised to act like a human male.”

“Still, the reason I speak of this is I must insist you don’t interfere with our bedding,” Skinner said firmly. “Even if we take ourselves out of your sight, you still will *hear* that I cause him some distress. Do not take it upon yourselves to try and prevent what must be done between Alexin and I.”

Frohike and Langly nodded solemnly.

“We appreciate your warning,” Frohike said. “For I must confess that, had I heard Alexin cry in distress, it *would* have been my natural instinct to interfere. But I see the wisdom in your words. I suggest that you and Alexin take yourselves to the left of this clearing, and Langly and I will move to the right. Though it wouldn’t be safe to move out of hearing range, a *little* privacy would be highly recommended under the circumstances.”

“And Frohike and I will soon be far too preoccupied to care overmuch about what you and Alexin are doing,” Langly smirked.

Skinner nodded his assent and gently woke the boy sleeping in his lap.

“It’s time for us to share the magic,” he whispered.

Alexin blinked sleepily, but his mouth stretched into a faint smile of assent and a little heat sparked deep inside his luminous eyes.

“Well, he definitely didn’t look unhappy or afraid,” Langly pointed out, as Skinner carried Alexin out of the clearing.

Frohike smirked. “All Faerie males are sluts, Langly. The way I react to your touch isn’t testament to your prowess, but simply my natural pleasure in being mounted. The females might have spent eighteen years deliberately suppressing the boy’s sexuality but they couldn’t actually erase it. His body *yearns* to be touched. I’m sure the pleasure he gains from the bedding more than compensates for the brief pain he feels beforehand.”

“Oh?” Langly snorted. “So you wouldn’t mind if I spanked *you* before satisfying your sluttish urges tonight?”

“Do you know how a female mates with her male?” Frohike growled. “She forces his member erect and then simply rides her fill of pleasure, while the male lies helpless beneath her. Unless she actually desires his seed, she oft times takes her pleasure and leaves him wailing his frustration as she walks away. Would you care for a demonstration of that frustration, my love?”

Langly swallowed heavily. “It was just a joke, Fro. Honestly.”

Frohike smirked with triumph, rose to his feet and led Langly to the opposite side of the clearing.

~~~

Alexin stared at the fast flowing river with horror.

“Dinah doesn’t want to get wet,” he announced firmly.

Skinner took a deep breath, counted to ten, and then said, “I’m sure *none* of the horses want to get wet, but we have to cross the river so what they *want* is irrelevant.”

“But the water’s really deep here,” Alexin pointed out seriously. “Dinah could slip on the rocks or get caught in the current. He’s not big and fat like *your* horse. We should ride upstream until the water’s shallower and it’s safer for him to cross.”

“Horses can swim,” Skinner retorted, struggling to keep his temper, “and, besides, riding upstream isn’t an option, is it? We’re trying to escape the Faerie, not ride in the direction of the boundary.”

“We could ride just a little way north and see if the river’s shallower,” Frohike suggested.

“Don’t *you* start,” Skinner snapped. “It’s bad enough trying to deal with Alexin’s ‘Dinah this' and 'Dinah that’ without you and Langly pandering to his ridiculous notions. It’s just a damned horse.”

Alexin burst into tears, buried his face in Dinah’s mane and sobbed piteously. “You’re not a ‘damned’ horse, Dinah. He’s just beastly and mean and he doesn’t care that you’re scared of the water.”

“Gods, Skinner,” Frohike said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Can’t you see it’s *Alexin* who’s scared of the water?”

Skinner groaned and rubbed his face tiredly. Yet again he was being an unthinking brute. Frohike was right. Alexin was just using Dinah as a way of trying to express his own fears without actually admitting to his terror. Probably because Skinner made such a habit of scoffing at the boy’s fears.

“I’m sorry, Alexin,” he said, riding over until he was close enough to the sobbing boy to pull him into a loose embrace.

“Say sorry to Dinah,” Alexin sniffled.

Skinner rolled his eyes but obediently offered the gelding a pretty, if less than totally sincere, apology.

“Perhaps I can attempt to slow the river a little,” he suggested cautiously. “Turn your face to mine, Alexin, so I can lap your tears.”

The boy complied eagerly enough, closing his eyes and allowing Skinner to drink of the sweet water trickling down his cheeks.

Then, uncertain whether it was possible for him to do so but fully willing to at least attempt it, if only to prevent them from having to ride closer to the Faerie border before crossing, Skinner willed the river to slow its flow that they might cross more easily.

“GODS,” Frohike and Langly gasped in unison.

The river hadn’t merely slowed but had *stopped*.

Skinner blinked in total disbelief at the vertical wall of water rising to their left and the now almost dry river bed in front of their feet.

Alexin was the only one of the four that took Skinner’s act of impossible magic in his stride.

“Come on, Dinah,” he said cheerfully, kicking the gelding’s flanks. “Let’s get across while the water’s gone. Skinner isn’t very good at using my magic, you know,” he told the horse confidentially. “Any minute now he’ll stop believing he’s truly responsible for stopping the river and then the water will start to flow again.”

Alexin’s comment – and the fact the boy was already halfway across the riverbed - broke the other three’s frozen tableau and they kicked their horses into a swift trot in pursuit of Dinah’s disappearing haunches.

“You can stop believing in Alexin’s magic now, Skinner,” Frohike laughed, when all four horses were safely on the other side.

Skinner blinked a couple of times, still too stunned to fully comprehend what he’d done, then he turned to the river and whispered, “Flow.”

With a loud gush, the wall of water collapsed and drove down the riverbed in a crashing wave.

“Did I... did I really...?” Skinner gasped.

Frohike clasped an arm around Skinner’s waist – which took a little skill since his horse wasn’t keen to get so close to Skinner’s big bay stallion – and chuckled with both amusement and admiration.

“You did indeed, Skinner. Though Alexin has the right of it. Your problem with the magic isn’t your ability to use it but your inability to truly comprehend that you have it.”

~~~

That night, after they’d set camp and eaten, Skinner took Alexin by the hand and quietly suggested they should retreat into the trees and lie together.

But instead of reacting with the enthusiasm that had been his norm of late, Alexin shook his head in refusal.

“Are you too sore?” Skinner demanded, his eyes flooding with guilt.

“I’m too *ashamed*,” Alexin spat.

“Ashamed?”

“That Frohike and Langly will hear us,” Alexin clarified, blushing deeply.

Skinner sighed his understanding. “I fully understand and share your embarrassment, Alexin. But I really think it’s imperative that I fully recharge the magic. Who knows how much power I used in stopping that river earlier today?”

Alexin sniffled sulkily. “They laughed at me last night, Skinner.”

“I assure you it wasn’t *you* who made them giggle with amusement,” Skinner sighed. “Their comments were definitely in the vein of hilarity at *my* behavior. They think it endlessly funny that I, who spends all the daylight hours pretending to be in control of myself, am reduced at night to a quivering, begging, adoring wreck by your beauty.”

“Really?” Alexin demanded, his eyes brightening suddenly.

“Really,” Skinner admitted ruefully. “Langly teased me greatly this morning for my obvious infatuation with you. He said he’d never before heard anyone call another person ‘beautiful’ so many times in one sentence. Particularly since I had exerted myself so much that I could barely even breathe at the time.”

“You *were* very enthusiastic,” Alexin snickered. “I found myself most grateful for my side-saddle today.”

“Did I hurt you?” Skinner demanded, suddenly frightened he’d been *too* enthusiastic.

“You haven’t hurt me in that fashion since the ward-gate,” Alexin replied seriously. He flushed a little and dipped his head. “I...I find I *like* it now when you are so...so...” He sought blindly for a better word, then shrugged and repeated, “enthusiastic.”

“You do?” Skinner said, uncaring if he sounded as though he was begging for reassurance.

Alexin nodded sincerely. “It makes me feel greatly beautiful that you desire me so very much. You were right when you said that I’d become so accustomed to being mounted that the pain would cease and all I’d feel would be pleasure in your touch.”

Skinner sighed with relief. “It makes my heart leap with joy that you admit so much to me, Alexin,” he said, sincerely. “If only I could remove the necessity to drink your tears, I would be totally happy in our union.”

Alexin shrugged. “My tears enabled you to stop that river today. Do you truly believe I resent that I must cry to grant you that power? You are never cruel to me. You never *beat* me. You merely spank me sufficiently to release my tears and then you immediately steal my pain away by replacing it with pleasure. I am content, Skinner. At least in the manner in which we lie together.”

“I hear a definite ‘but’,” Skinner pointed out wryly.

Alexin looked a little nervous, as though he’d spoken without thinking and now regretted his comment.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Skinner asked softly.

“I’m...I’m too frightened of your anger to do so.”

“I’ll never be angry with you for speaking the truth, my love.”

Alexin shook his head, both in denial and confusion. “How can you say that, when it is of your anger that I wish to speak?”

Skinner abruptly felt cold and afraid. He closed his eyes in sorrow and took a deep steadying breath. He should have known that Alexin would eventually broach the subject of his intolerant behavior. The trees had attempted to warn him. Frohike and Langly had tried to warn him. And though he knew not what had caused Alexin to stop simply accepting his bad temper and finally protest it, he knew he was long overdue for the boy’s criticism.

“I promise you, on my life, that I will listen to your words without anger, Alexin. No matter what you say to me, whether I agree or not, I respect your right to express your opinions.”

Alexin looked even more confused. “I didn’t think you ‘respected’ me at all,” he said, his tone sad rather than challenging.

“Why did you imagine that?” Skinner asked, though internally he was kicking himself furiously because he was *fully* aware of why Alexin would believe that to be true.

“I am not complaining,” Alexin stressed hurriedly, his eyes bright with worry. “I am simply... confused.”

“By what?”

“By Frohike,” Alexin whispered. “I find myself thinking ‘big thoughts’ since meeting him. And although I tell myself, over and over, that my confusion is only proof that my thoughts are wrong and my conclusions flawed, I still find myself thinking such things.”

“What big thoughts?” Skinner encouraged.

Alexin flushed and bit his lower lip nervously. “I think... I think perhaps you are not...not so good a mate as I had thought you to be.”

Skinner flinched and his heart thudded with sudden panic, but he forced his expression to remain neutral as he gently said, “In what way, Alexin?”

Alexin looked fearful, but still bravely made the decision to answer. “I understand that you are far kinder to me than any woman of my people would have been. Yet...yet I *think* the fact you are better than I might have expected you to be is not sufficient reason for me to feel entirely grateful.”

“Carry on,” Skinner encouraged, though he felt his frantically thudding heart breaking a little at Alexin’s careful words.

“Sometimes I...I dislike you. Sometimes you are mean to me. You are impatient with my fears and you oft times make me feel that I am just a silly child in your eyes. I know that my fears are many and that my reasoning is sometimes flawed. I understand why that could drive you to anger. But still, I have no control over my terrors or my ignorance. No matter how hard I try to please you, I find myself constantly facing new situations without the knowledge of how I should behave if I *am* to please you. I wish, at those times, you could show me the kindness and patience that you so often reveal in your careful taking of my body.”

“I am ashamed,” Skinner said heavily.

Alexin’s eyes flared with guilt. “I didn’t mean to make you feel so. I didn’t say this as complaint. Just as explanation for my strange thoughts. I...I see how you treat Frohike. As though his opinions matter. As though you ‘respect’ him. And...and sometimes I find myself wishing to be like *him* so you’d treat me that way, too. But then I think that if I had to sacrifice my beauty, to gain what he has that demands your respect, I should die of even greater sorrow. I could not bear to be ugly. But then perhaps it is *that* which makes me so foolish in your eyes.”

“Even were you to somehow lose your beauty, I would *still* love you, Alexin. But your beauty is something that I treasure greatly, so how can I criticize you for guarding it so carefully? So, no, I don’t find your vanity ‘foolish’. And I can see the reason for your confusion. I treat Frohike as my equal, though he is Faerie like you, and it now seems to me that I don’t accord you the same respect.”

Alexin nodded sadly. “I know I am *not* your equal,” he admitted, “but I wish sometimes that you might at least ‘pretend’ that I am. I do not wish you to be as Langly, for I would be afraid if you were less wom... less handsome. I am grateful that you’re a warrior and I know that warriors are always less kind than men such as Langly. So perhaps it is a sign of my stupidity that I find myself envying the ease with which Langly and Frohike relate to one another. I think... I think it’s true that boys can’t have ‘big thoughts’, because I am more confused since I started to think them than I was when I settled for more simple thoughts.”

Skinner sighed and rubbed his face fretfully. It was no wonder Alexin was confused and unhappy. It hadn’t occurred to Skinner before Alexin’s careful words but, now he thought about it, it was only natural that the easy relationship between Frohike and Langly would cause Alexin to second guess *their* bond.

“I cannot even argue the truth of your words,” he admitted heavily. “I *am* often impatient with you even though I know you are doing the best that you can under the circumstances. My only excuse is that I am so filled with concern for your safety, and the need to flee with great haste to Crystal City, that it sometimes seems impractical to take the time to convince you of my wisdom when I know a sharp word will gain your much faster compliance with my wishes.”

“Then you consider me disobedient and *that’s* why I so often anger you?” Alexin asked sadly.

Skinner shook his head. “The blame is fully mine, Alexin. I would not have you look for reasons in your own behavior to justify my bad temper. It’s not you who has to change his ways but I. I can only ask for your tolerance of me as I learn to treat you better. It is my greatest wish to make you happy at all times and my greatest sorrow that I so often fail to do so.”

“It is not *so* often,” Alexin corrected softly. “Just now and again. And far less now than even a few days ago. So I *do* believe you mean to change your ways and I will wait patiently for you to do so.”

“Your gentle acceptance of my flaws serves only to make me feel more guilty,” Skinner confessed ruefully.

“Would you prefer that I show anger?” Alexin asked, blinking with astonishment. “Is it not the times I allow my temper to show that irritate you the most?”

“I have no objection to you making your true feelings known,” Skinner chuckled. “I merely wish you did so in a fairer manner.”

“Fairer?”

“When you sulk and pout and stamp your feet, I find you so unbearably adorable that I am torn between lust and amusement. In those times I do find you childlike, and yet I also find you irresistible, so I am often unable to deny you your demands. So I call it unfair in that I lose the argument by default.”

“Oh,” Alexin said, not looking unhappy at the idea.

“Let me be fully honest with you, Alexin, even if I risk hurting your feelings further. I have no objection to the idea of treating you as my equal. I would even welcome a more balanced relationship between us. I treat you as a child because... well, in honesty, you often act like one.”

“Oh,” Alexin repeated, though this time his exclamation was one of dismay.

“I say that not in criticism,” Skinner clarified hurriedly. “As you admitted yourself, you are greatly ignorant of how life is in the human world. That ignorance isn’t a sign of stupidity. As time passes, and you learn more of the world you now live in, your decisions will increase in maturity until the time comes that we *will* be equals. But while you learn and grow, it’s my duty to protect you from yourself. I will continue to make decisions for you until you prove yourself capable of good judgment. Is that not fair?”

Alexin nodded. “I know you wish only to protect me, so I don’t object to you making the decisions. I just...just wish you weren’t so...so *mean* about it.”

“Then I will endeavor greatly to rein in my temper,” Skinner promised sincerely. “From now on, when I snap an order at you, I want you to call challenge upon me for it and insist upon an explanation for my decision. You won’t learn to make your own decisions unless I teach you the reasoning of mine. But *after* the event, Alexin. Be assured that if I *am* yelling, there is probably danger afoot.”

“I understand,” Alexin agreed quietly. “You raise your voice to me simply because there is no time, at that moment, to explain a danger I am too ignorant to perceive?”

“Not always,” Skinner admitted gruffly. “Sometimes I have raised my voice simply out of impatience. But I promise that, in future, that won’t be the case.”

“Then...then you’ll stop being so mean to Dinah, too?” Alexin demanded.

“Let me explain that to you, Alexin, though again I risk your tears. I understand that you love the horse and, were the situation different, I’d have no objection to you showing such pleasure in the creature. I would happily buy you a thousand pets if I could, since nothing pleases me more than to see you happy and content. Dinah though... well, he’s simply a means of transport during a dangerous journey. Horses can go lame, Alexin. They can fall and break their legs. Or we could reach a point in our journey where it is no longer practical to continue on horseback. How will you feel if tomorrow we reach a path which is too narrow or treacherous for a horse to traverse? We’ll have no choice except to dismount, set our horses free and continue on foot.”

“We’re going to leave Dinah behind?” Alexin gasped, tears welling in his eyes.

“I doubt it,” Skinner soothed. “The path we must take to Crystal City from here is not through mountains but through a wide, flat valley. But your reaction to the idea of abandoning Dinah is surely proof that it is unwise for you to grow so fond of a beast of burden, isn’t it?”

“Then...then, again, you have been mean to me only to protect me?”

“Yes,” Skinner agreed. “Though had I accorded you true ‘respect’, I would have given you this explanation two days ago rather than simply being so ‘mean’ about the horse.”

Alexin frowned thoughtfully. “You did not do so because you thought the explanation would upset me even more than your harshness?” he suggested.

“That’s true,” Skinner agreed.

Alexin smiled softly. “Then...then perhaps you *are* a good mate, after all. Even when you hurt me with your harsh words, you are *still* only trying to protect me. I see that now.”

Skinner’s heart, which had been thudding with fear for almost the entire conversation, finally eased back to a less frantic rhythm. Alexin had clearly been truthful when he’d said he wasn’t *complaining*. The boy had simply been in search of a reasonable explanation for Skinner’s behavior.

But the boy’s next comment quickly shattered his calm once more.

“Do you truly love me, or do you just love the magic I provide for you?” Alexin demanded.

“I love *you*, Alexin. Why do you doubt that?” he demanded, worry making his voice harsher than he intended.

Alexin shifted nervously at Skinner’s sharp tone, ducked his head and again looked as though he regretted speaking at all.

“Please tell me,” Skinner coaxed gently, reaching out to take one of Alexin’s hands within his own. “Is my bad temper so very great? I thought you’d accepted I act so only out of care for you.”

“I do,” Alexin agreed miserably.

“And you find our love making agreeable now?”

Alexin nodded.

“And you know that I spank you at your own insistence that I use your magic, rather than for my own pleasure?”

Alexin nodded again.

“Then what is it I do or don’t do that causes you to doubt my love for you?”

Instead of answering, Alexin tipped his head backwards and stared at the night sky where the new moon shone palely overhead.

Skinner followed his gaze with a confused frown. “What are you looking at?”

“I know time moves differently here,” Alexin mumbled. “And that as far as the Faerie are concerned I’m still but a boy. Yet I *am* here, in the human realm, and so time moves for me here as it does for you, doesn’t it?”

Skinner was still unsure what Alexin’s question had to do with ‘love’, but he answered it regardless. “The fact that Frohike claims such a great age in human years would possibly suggest that Faerie don’t age here the way humans do. One explanation for his centuries of life could be that he ages only according to the passage of time in the Faerie realm, regardless of how many years pass in the human world. Yet, the fact that he grew to the age of eighteen here at the same rate as a human boy suggests the opposite. So, I’d say that in the human realm a Faerie *does* age as a human does, except that a Faerie has such a longer natural lifespan that it matters not.”

“Then I am truly a week older than I was when we passed through the ward gate?”

“Yes. I believe so.”

Alexin nodded glumly, then dropped his head and began picking at his skirts sulkily.

Squashing his automatic feeling of impatience at the boy’s prevarication, Skinner squeezed Alexin’s fingers gently. “This is obviously something of great importance to you, and clearly something that upsets you greatly, but I still don’t understand what’s wrong,” he admitted.

“At first I thought it was just the human way,” Alexin replied miserably. “I thought perhaps humans had no traditions such as my people. But I spoke to Frohike today, as we rode, and he told me that, although the ceremonies are different, your people always make a great celebration for their loved ones. And so...so I decided your failure to do so proved you don’t *truly* love me.”

Skinner continued to frown in bewilderment for a moment but then, despite the vagueness of Alexin’s comment, it came to him what had so upset the boy, and he groaned loudly at his own blindness. “Four nights ago, when the moon changed, you came of age, didn’t you?”

Alexin nodded sadly.

“And it’s because I did nothing to mark the occasion that you are so unhappy,” Skinner said, a statement rather than a question.

“I...I long feared the day that I would become a ‘man’,” Alexin whispered, “because I had no wish to be veiled or bedded. Yet, despite my fear, I still felt great excitement. The day of a boy’s veiling is a wondrous one. Full of feasting and celebration and...and gifts.”

“Forgive me, Alexin, that I let something of such obvious importance to you pass by unnoticed. It was not through lack of love on my part. It is simply that although Frohike is right that the coming of age of a human boy is celebrated, it comes not at a set time, but as the result of some act on a boy’s part that proves him to be a man. My own ‘coming of age’ happened when I was just fourteen. I received my adult name and my wife in a ceremony at Ragnarok. It is something earned by deed rather than the passage of time.”

“Then, in your opinion, I am still a boy?” Alexin demanded. “Because I have not yet performed any act to earn the title of ‘man’?”

Skinner shook his head. “No, Alexin. The day you found the courage to run away with me was the day you became a ‘man’ in my eyes. That was your great deed of valor. I admit it took me a few days to understand the amount of bravery it took for you to do such a thing, but I decided you were a ‘man’ long before the moon changed.”

“But...but I had no celebration. No feast. No...no gifts,” Alexin pointed out.

Skinner thought quickly. “When a boy becomes a man among *my* people, the celebration isn’t held then and there. It is done later, before a gathering of the clan, so that all might witness the ceremony.”

Alexin’s eyes brightened. “Then...then it is just that you wished to wait until we reach your people at this Crystal City?”

“That’s right,” Skinner said. And although it was a lie, it was not only a ‘kind’ lie but one he intended to transform to truth. He abruptly decided he *would* ensure the boy had a proper celebration when they reached his city. He doubted Alexin would appreciate a ‘naming’ ceremony but, knowing Alexin, a sufficiency of pretty gifts would more than satisfy the boy that he was ‘loved’.

And it seemed Alexin was fully satisfied by Skinner’s answer because he rose to his feet, smiled down at him and said, “Then perhaps I could face a little more embarrassment, now I know you love me. *And* that you are even more shamed than I am.”

It wasn’t the most romantic invitation to bed, but it raised a wide, relieved smile on Skinner’s face, and he stood up with alacrity to follow Alexin into the trees.

~~~

“I... well, I think I made a mistake,” Langly admitted awkwardly the next morning, as they broke camp.

“What mistake?” Skinner frowned.

“See this?” Langly asked, using a stick to draw a rough map on the ground. “That’s Stonekeep City, where we came from.” He made another mark. “That’s the ward-gate you used to come to the city. Over here is Crystal City and *its* ward-gate, thirty miles to the north. This is where we are now. And this...” He pointed with the stick. “...is the Scall Valley which we have to cross to reach the mountains that house Crystal City. Over fifteen miles wide, and near thirty miles deep, of flat, arid plateau.”

Skinner nodded. “It’s a dry and rock strewn valley, too rugged for us to risk even trotting with so many loose rocks underfoot,” he agreed. “Because the water runs off the mountains to either side of Scall, it’s a dry and arid place. But we can carry sufficient water. Even at a walk, the horses can cross the fifteen miles in less than a day.”

“That wasn’t my mistake,” Langly admitted sheepishly. “What I totally forgot was that there’s a third ward-gate at the top of Scall. Any Faerie crossing through *that* gate would be able to see down the full length of the valley. We’d be totally exposed for hours. More than that, it’s the most likely route they’ll use to exit their land even if it’s Stonekeep they’re riding towards, because the ward-gate *you* used has been abandoned for so long that the forest paths are too overgrown for their horses.”

Skinner cursed loudly.

“What’s wrong?” Alexin asked, his eyes widening with fear at Skinner’s anger. “Have I been foolish again?”

Skinner hastened to assure him that his anger had nothing to do with Alexin. Then, aware of his promise to begin treating the boy as an ‘equal’, he carefully explained the problem to him. And, although his explanation left Alexin pale and trembling, he saw gratitude in the deep green eyes that reassured him he’d made the right decision.

“We have two choices as I see it,” Skinner said in Faerie, leaving Frohike to translate his words to Langly. “We can either make camp here for another few days to allow for the Faerie to pass us by, or we can push on and pray that we cross the valley without the Faerie spotting us.”

“There’s no guarantee either way,” Frohike pointed out. “We have no idea of *when* the Faerie might use the gate. We could camp here for a week, see no Faerie, and still cross at exactly the wrong moment.”

“Is there not a different way to reach Crystal City?” Alexin asked nervously.

“No,” Skinner snapped automatically, then took a breath, smiled an apology at the boy and explained that there was a vast canyon to the south of Scall Valley. The only other way to approach the city would be to travel over fifty miles southwards, fifteen miles across the opposite side of the canyon and then fifty miles northwards once more. “And we couldn’t do so on horseback,” he said, “because the paths around the canyon are blocked at many points by landslides. On foot, given the bad terrain, it would take us as long as two weeks to reach what is currently only a day’s ride away from us. And those weeks would give the Faerie sufficient time to track us.”

“Oh,” Alexin said simply, but his already vibrant eyes began to pulsate with pleasure that Skinner had taken the time to explain the situation fully to him.

“There are ten ward-gates, two of which have been long abandoned. Out of the eight active gates, the Faerie have so far raided through three. So our odds are one in five that the Faerie come through the Scall gate next,” Langly said thoughtfully.

“Unless the Faerie split their army into five and raid all five simultaneously,” Frohike pointed out, then translated for Alexin since he’d already grasped Skinner’s obvious intention to involve the boy in all future decisions.

“I think...” Alexin said, then hesitated nervously until Skinner encouraged him to continue. “I think it unlikely that my mother would do that. There are not as many Faerie as you seem to think and far fewer still Faerie horses. Regardless of how desperate she is to find me, my mother would *never* leave her own Queendom vulnerable to attack from the other queendoms.”

“Carry on,” Skinner encouraged. “This is really useful information, Alexin.”

“It is indeed,” Frohike said, kicking Langly so that the blond nodded his agreement also though he had no idea what Alexin was saying.

Emboldened by their encouragement, Alexin continued. “Although I’m only a boy, I understand much about the defense of the Queendom because... well, because stealing a valuable, marriageable boy like me is one of the primary reasons why a queendom might be raided by another queen.”

“That makes sense,” Frohike agreed.

“Well, even if Queen Ariana is working with my mother, she only brought a few dozen troops with her and wouldn’t yet have had time to call north for reinforcements. There were about two hundred horseguards barracked at my mother’s palace. Add Ariana’s three dozen and possibly the four or five dozen of the other queens who attended the castle for my veiling, and that still leaves under three hundred mounted guards.”

“So many?” Skinner gasped, finding the boy’s words more worrying than reassuring.

Alexin laughed. “You forget that my mother’s Queendom is vast. It is the largest and most powerful of the queendoms, running the entire length of the border between Faerie land and human. She is the only queen with access to the ward-gates. All the other queendoms are further north. It’s the ward-gates that give her power over the other queens, because no other Faerie can enter human land without her permission.”

“That’s pretty fascinating,” Skinner admitted, “but I still fail to see our advantage in that.”

“Well, I could be wrong,” Alexin admitted, dipping his eyes in sudden embarrassment as though even such a gentle questioning had deflated his confidence completely. “But I *think* that most of those guards will currently be posted to protect my mother’s northern border, rather than in the search for me.”

“Of course,” Skinner breathed, his own experience as a Chieftain confirming the wisdom of Alexin’s words. If Sylvana sent all her guards southwards in search of the missing Prince, the other queens would be stupid not to take that as an ideal opportunity to attack her. Sylvana would be as concerned as any leader about protecting her borders during a time of crisis. He grinned. “So, at most, she’s going to have perhaps a hundred horses to spare.”

“Even fifty Faerie are enough to raze *any* human city to the ground,” Frohike pointed out.

“But I think Alexin’s point is that Sylvana wouldn’t break a mere hundred riders into *five* forces. At most there are *two* groups of riders searching for us. And, since they tire like humans during their time in the human land, I imagine the two groups are taking turns to search. The two day break we have between raids is probably because of the few minutes of Faerie time it takes while one group of riders changes over with the other. But even if that isn’t the case, and both groups *are* searching simultaneously, it still means the odds of the Scall gate being used next are only two in five. Worse than one in five but still good odds.”

“That’s still worse odds than I like,” Frohike grunted.

“I agree,” Skinner said. “But our options are limited. Does anyone want to stay here for a few days and see what happens?” he asked, then repeated the question to Langly in the human tongue.

“Like you said, no matter how long we wait here, we eventually need to cross the valley and the Faerie could travel through the gate at any time,” Langly replied.

“I agree with Langly,” Frohike said, nodding at his lover but then translating and answering in Faerie for Alexin’s benefit. “What do you think, Skinner?”

“In truth, I don’t know. I have the oddest feeling. Some part of me is saying it will prove to be a mistake, and yet another part of me is insisting that it should be done. It’s like my magic is totally conflicted.”

“Perhaps that means there will be short term difficulties but that in the long term it will be for the best,” Frohike suggested. “For instance, I’m sure you never imagined your captivity by the Faerie would win you such a prize as Alexin.”

Alexin preened happily, and then cooed with pleasure at Skinner’s sincere and heartfelt agreement.

“What say you, Alexin?” Skinner asked.

The boy was still purring contentedly at Skinner’s declaration of love and seemed startled and even bewildered by the question. “You want to know if I want to cross the valley?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes,” Skinner agreed.

“Why?” Alexin asked, his tone genuinely puzzled. “It’s not as though my thoughts would change your decision.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” Skinner confessed. “But I would at least know your feelings on this matter.”

“You won’t like them,” Alexin warned, a little sulkily.

Skinner’s heart sank a little. “Then I make you cross against your will?” he asked sadly.

“No,” Alexin replied. “I’m perfectly happy to cross the valley.”

“Why wouldn’t I like that?”

“Because the only reason I want to cross it is that I want a bath, and *real* food, and a soft bed tonight,” Alexin confessed sheepishly.

Skinner bellowed with laughter and pulled Alexin into a hug.

“You aren’t angry with me then?” Alexin asked.

“I may not agree with your priorities, Alexin, but your unceasing honesty is always a joy to my ears,” Skinner replied. “Besides, there *is* a lot to be said for sleeping in a proper bed again.”

“Definitely,” Frohike agreed, rubbing his lower back. “I’m *far* too old for this camping under the stars nonsense.”

~~~

They were less than halfway across the valley when Skinner decided he knew why his magic had been so ambivalent about the idea.

The rocks underfoot were so numerous that even the sure footed Dinah was stumbling with regularity, and even though it was barely mid-morning, the heat was so oppressive that not even regular gulps of water could ease the feeling that they were melting inside their skins.

“This is intolerable,” he admitted, as they plodded miserably onwards.

“Can’t you make it rain a little?” Alexin asked plaintively.

“I thought you hated to get wet unless the process involves a warm tub,” Skinner chuckled, to cover his embarrassment that it hadn’t even occurred to him to use the magic in such a way. It was one thing to *know* he had the magic, but another entirely to start taking it for granted. He couldn’t just set aside four decades of knowledge of how to survive in a magic-less world and instead embrace his new found powers. The magic was the antithesis of everything he knew about how the world worked. Perhaps another man might have greedily embraced the power of the magic. Skinner, however, was more discomforted by his new abilities than grateful for them.

“Better wet than burned alive,” Alexin muttered. “My flesh is on fire, Skinner.”

Skinner looked at the boy and winced. Alexin’s normally bluish-white skin was glowing the unhealthy rose of impending sunburn. He hurriedly reached into a saddle-bag for the burn ointment and told Alexin to slather it quickly over all his exposed flesh.

“I’ll see if I can...” he began.

“Skinner?” Langly interrupted suddenly, his voice wavering with fear.

“What?”

“Look north.”

Skinner turned in his saddle, narrowed his eyes, and his heart leapt in his chest.

“Gods,” he breathed.

Still a good twelve miles away, so far that it was impossible for his eyes to clearly make out what he was seeing, a black swarm was moving swiftly down the valley in their direction.

“What is it?” Alexin demanded fearfully. All he could see was a dark, swiftly moving shadow.

“It’s the Faerie,” Frohike announced glumly. “They’ve come through the gate and spotted us.”

Skinner thought quickly. There was still about eight miles for them to ride before they reached the hills that rose on the other side of the valley. The much faster and surer footed Faerie horses would easily eat up their mere four mile lead. It was slightly less distance back to the trees on the other side of the valley, but they’d not only be riding in the wrong direction but into an indefensible place.

If they continued onwards, however, and reached the hills before the Faerie reached them, then just another half mile would bring them to the narrow passageway into Crystal City. A passage that the Faerie would only be able to enter in single file. The hundred horses of the Crystal City army could surely hold back the single Faerie who led the pursuit through the passageway. And by holding back *that* Faerie, none of the others would be able to break through into the city.

It briefly occurred to him that it was entirely possible that his magic could bring rocks down off the hillside to block the passage into the city, but Skinner’s mind refused to *depend* on something as nebulous as his magic, instead automatically reaching for a more practical solution. He didn’t *know* the extent of his magical abilities, but he *did* have faith in his ability to plan a strategic defense.

Skinner grabbed a rope from one of his saddle bags, swiftly tied it around Alexin’s waist and fastened it securely to Dinah’s saddle.

“RIDE!” he yelled, kicking his big bay into a gallop.

Despite the treacherous ground, the other three followed him without question, and soon all four horses were slipping and sliding at full pelt across the valley.

They galloped until their horses were stained with sweat and huffing with exhaustion, but all the time they fled, the Faerie riders moved closer and closer, transforming swiftly from a dark indistinct shadow to an army of perhaps five dozen riders.

“Ride faster,” Frohike screamed. “They’re gaining on us.”

Skinner cursed and whipped his horse’s flanks, uncaring that the beast was already rolling its eyes in terror as it stumbled on the loose stones beneath its feet.

At his side, Alexin was just clinging desperately onto Dinah’s mane, his eyes closed in fear, and he was making no effort to urge his horse onwards. It was only Dinah’s natural instinct to flee with his ‘herd’ that kept the grey level with the other three horses.

“They’re still gaining,” Langly cried, as the vast strides of the huge Faerie horses ate up the distance between them. “There’s no way we can get to the other side before they reach us.”

“I know,” Skinner yelled back.

He abandoned his plan to reach the passage into Crystal City. Even if they whipped the horses into such a breakneck gallop that they’d be lucky not to fall on the treacherous ground, the Faerie would *still* catch up with them at least a mile before the hills.

He was going to have to try to use the magic after all.

Gasping a curse up into the sky, Skinner summoned the storm clouds, demanding lightning to spear down onto their pursuers.

Yet, though the air vibrated and the storms began to gather, a moment later they dissipated harmlessly.

It was hard to think with panic surging through his blood and his lungs filled with dust as their horses kicked up a choking cloud as they galloped through the arid soil, but Skinner forced himself to imagine a different way to use the magic as a weapon. In his mind he imagined a great wind lifting the small rocks of the valley and powering them like missiles at the pursuing Faerie.

There was a great stirring in the air, like the gathering of a tornado, and then he heard distant cries of pain and distress. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the two leading Faerie fall as their horses legs were swept from under them by the impact of flying rocks.

He dared to fell a tiny surge of triumphant hope. But then, just as the storm clouds had been swiftly vanquished, the wind died and the hurtling rocks dropped back to the ground before striking any more of their pursuers.

“The Faerie women *have* the air magic,” Frohike gasped, yanking his horse to gallop alongside Skinner’s so he could be heard over the pounding hooves of their horses. “You need to use something else against them.”

“But WHAT?” Skinner roared. “There’s no water here and nothing to catch fire.”

Frohike looked lost and confused for a moment, but then he smirked suddenly. “Set fire to *them*,” he suggested.

Skinner cursed himself for not thinking of that, looked back over his shoulder and *wished* the Faerie to burn.

Several of the leading Faerie burst into flame, their horses screaming in agony as fire surged through not only the riders but their mounts, but the main body of Faerie kept coming.

“They have to be closer,” Skinner yelled. “It seems that I can only throw the fire just so far. And there’s too many of them. If I let them all get close enough for me to use the fire against them, at least *some* of them will reach us before I can burn them.”

“Then stop them reaching us at all,” Frohike screamed. “Use your earth magic, Skinner.”

“I don’t know HOW!”

Neither did Frohike, in honesty, but his mind was far more open to the idea of magic than Skinner’s was so it was far easier for him to use his imagination in that way than it was for the far more practical and down to earth Skinner

“Dig a damned hole or something!” he suggested. “Tell the earth to break apart into a chasm.”

Skinner nodded his understanding, closed his eyes, concentrated as best he could, considering they were galloping full pelt across treacherous ground with a pack of Faerie raiders on their heels, and told the valley to split apart.

With a huge shattering roar, the valley complied. A rip tore across its surface, shaking the ground beneath their feet so much that Skinner’s bay stumbled heavily and only his great skill as a horseman kept him seated.

From one side of the valley to the other, a tear opened in the ground and began to widen to form a chasm.

“I meant BETWEEN us and the Faerie,” Frohike howled.

Because the chasm had formed in *front* of the four riders, not behind them as Skinner had intended.

“I TOLD YOU I DIDN’T KNOW HOW!” Skinner yelled back. “I’ll try and close it again.”

“There’s no time,” Langly called. “Besides, it’s still narrow enough for the horses to jump. We just need to get over it before it widens any more and then the Faerie will be stuck on *this* side while we continue to flee.”

Skinner judged the width of the ever widening chasm, and nodded his agreement. It was still less than eight feet from edge to edge. The horses *could* leap over the gap still.

He kicked the bay with all his might, so that it screamed in protest but lengthened its stride. He also lashed Dinah’s flanks with the ends of his reins, causing the little gelding to startle and increase its pace to match the bay’s.

“You hit my horse,” Alexin wailed, as Dinah’s leap of surprise made him open his eyes and gaze around him in terror.

“Yell at me later,” Skinner roared. “RIDE, Alexin. RIDE!”

Langly’s black reached the chasm first, not even checking its stride but simply lifting itself off the ground in a smooth leap that easily cleared the cavernous gap. Then Skinner’s bay took off, jumping over the chasm more clumsily but landing free and clear on the other side. Frohike’s sorrel hesitated briefly at the edge, its bravery faltering as its rolling eyes spotted the impossible depth of the chasm.

Frohike responded to its terror with a brutal kick and a blood curdling yell in the beast’s ears. Deciding it was more frightened of its rider than the chasm, the sorrel leapt forwards once more and attempted the jump.

But, in its hesitation, it had lost the momentum to clear the gap. Its forefeet landed on the opposite side, but its rear legs landed in space.

The jolt of its collision with the chasm sent Frohike flying over its head, tumbling through the air to land in a dazed heap scant inches from Skinner’s bay, but the sorrel itself gave an almost human scream of terror and fell backwards, tumbling down the chasm in a flash of kicking legs, falling so far that its screams faded long before its body struck the bottom.

Dinah, who’d lost ground not through lack of bravery but through shortness of pace, was still several yards from the chasm when Frohike’s horse fell. The brave little gelding saw the sorrel fail to survive the leap, but still charged forwards, its eyes rolling, its flanks sheened with sweat, but its heart still filled with the courage to make the jump.

It was Alexin whose nerve broke.

Alexin who saw Frohike’s horse fall and, in that instant, saw nothing but a picture in his head of Dinah falling.

Alexin who grabbed his left rein and hauled on it so sharply that Dinah stumbled at the very brink of the chasm, then swerved sideways so quickly that only the rope around Alexin’s waist prevented him from flying headfirst off the horse and into the chasm himself.

Skinner watched with horror as Dinah slid to a stumbling halt, leaving Alexin trapped on the wrong side of the chasm. He didn’t stop to think. He grabbed his own reins, wheeled the bay to face the chasm once more and kicked it forwards. He would retake the jump, throw Alexin over the withers of his own horse and leap back to safety.

But in the few seconds it took him to reach the edge once more, the chasm had widened another four feet and the bay reared in protest, refusing to even attempt the impossible jump.

“I need to close the gap again,” Skinner yelled, as Alexin stared at him, white faced with terror, from the other side. “How do I close it again?”

“It’s too late, Skinner,” Frohike gasped, nursing his bruised ribs as he scrambled to his feet. “It’s too late.”

The Faerie were less than two hundred meters from Alexin, slowing their gallop down to a canter, then surrounding the boy at no more than a trot as they warily eyed the still widening chasm.

“NO,” Skinner roared, shaking his head in denial. “BURN,” he screamed, and several of the Faerie burst into flames.

He would have burned them all but, sensing the danger his magic posed, they closed ranks quickly, surrounding Alexin so tightly that it was impossible for Skinner to throw the flame at them for fear he would accidentally immolate the boy.

“CLOSE,” he yelled.

The chasm groaned and its edges began to slowly move together once more.

“Stop it,” Langly yelled. “We have to flee, Skinner. We can’t fight them. If you close the chasm they’ll kill us. There are too many of them. And you can’t even use your fire against them while they have Alexin captive.”

“I’M NOT LEAVING HIM, DAMN YOU.”

“You have to,” Frohike gasped. “Closing the chasm is just committing suicide. Alexin’s only hope is that you survive. You’re no use to him dead. You can’t *rescue* him, if you’re dead.”

Skinner shook his head in furious denial. “I won’t leave him.”

“You have to, Skinner. You HAVE to,” Langly begged.

“NO,” Skinner howled, as the Faerie circling Alexin began to retreat, sweeping Alexin away in their midst, breaking into a canter up the valley and bearing the boy away from his eyes, while the others unsheathed their swords and prepared to attack as soon as the gap was narrow enough for their horses to leap.

With a roar of fury, Skinner screamed at the earth to open another fissure, north of the Faerie, to prevent their escape. But though the earth complied, with another swiftly spreading ravine splitting the valley floor, his earth magic had the same physical limitations as his fire magic and, in throwing his magic so far, the second fissure was barely five feet wide and the Faerie fleeing with Alexin jumped over the chasm without difficulty and continued to gallop up the valley.

“NO,” Skinner roared again.

“They’re taking him, Skinner. You can’t stop them. All you can do is flee now so you can rescue him later."

“Rescue him,” Skinner repeated numbly.

“That’s it. We’re going to rescue him,” Frohike assured him, though the glance he exchanged with Langly proved he didn’t believe his own words. “But to rescue him, we have to stay alive, Skinner. Stop the gap from closing.”

Shaking with fury, as the Faerie escorting Alexin, Skinner sent a roaring demand to the chasm to not only cease closing but to instead split apart northwards.

With a rumbling roar, the chasm widened into a small canyon, the ground crumbling and dissolving under the feet of the Faerie who had remained to attack them.

Over three dozen Faerie and their mounts tumbled instantly to their deaths as the ground disappeared under their feet.

“CLOSE,” Skinner yelled triumphantly, and the chasm slammed shut completely, leaving the dead Faerie forever entombed within the bowels of the valley.

“GODS,” Langly breathed, as a cloud of dust choked them.

Skinner turned his horse northwards, intending to race after the Faerie who’d captured Alexin, but Frohike grabbed hold of his reins and clung to them despite Skinner’s curses and threats.

“THINK,” Frohike yelled. “You can’t catch them before they reach the ward-gate, and the minute they’re back in the Faerie realm they can summon a whole army against you. Chasing them now is suicide.”

“I’m dead *anyway*,” Skinner spat. “I can’t survive without Alexin’s touch.”

“You still have a day, maybe two,” Langly countered. “That’s barely a few minutes in the Faerie realm. You have *time*, Skinner. Nothing can happen to Alexin in those minutes but *you* might find a way to get him back in two days.”

It was scant consolation, when not one of the three had any idea of how it might be achieved, but it was enough, at least, to convince Skinner that a headlong, suicidal ride into the Faerie’s clutches wasn’t a sane plan either.

“I lost him,” he gasped, tears flooding down his cheeks. “I lost him.”

Then he turned and punched Frohike in the jaw so hard that the little man flew across the ground. Langly gave a roar of outrage and jumped to attack Skinner. He too received a punch that almost shattered his jaw.

“JEALOUSY?” Skinner roared. “Next time I tell you I have a gut feeling, you’d better damned well listen to me.”

Frohike and Langly both dropped their heads in shamed understanding of Skinner’s wrath. Had they not dismissed Skinner’s feelings about Alexin growing too fond of Dinah, perhaps the boy wouldn’t have been captured.

“Come on,” Skinner growled. “We ride for Crystal City. You’d better pray the army you spoke of is truly there.”

~~~

Even had he not been frozen with terror, Alexin could have done nothing to prevent the Faerie grabbing Dinah’s reins and towing the little gelding north towards the ward-gate. For one thing, he was hopelessly outnumbered. For another, he’d never defied the direct order of a female.

But the fact he was so stunned by his capture meant that he not only followed the women without complaint but it was several miles before the shock wore off enough for him to burst into loud, sobbing tears.

It was the abrupt suddenness of his wails that caused the Faerie to halt their horses.

Had he cried from the moment of his capture, they would have rightly surmised he was crying *because* he’d been captured. But the long delay before he gave in to his urge to howl in grief made it appear to the Faerie that Alexin was crying with relief at the realization he’d been rescued.

They were, therefore, extremely solicitous of his tears.

Although the guards who had captured him were of too low rank to have ever seen the growing boy except from afar, over the last eighteen years Sylvana had made it well known that the Prince was to be treated as though he were the most valuable possession in the entire Queendom.

Besides, the Captain of these guards was feeling particularly benevolent because she was the first new captain in over a week who would be returning to the castle in glory rather than facing a painful death as punishment for failure. So she cared little for the fact she’d lost over three dozen of her guards during the rescue. All *she* cared about was the fact that the Prince was safely within her grasp.

It did strike her, however, that returning to the castle with a bawling Prince would be somewhat less of a triumphant entrance than returning with a smilingly grateful one.

So although she knew she *should* return to Faerie land with all haste, she chose instead to halt still sixteen miles from the ward-gate and attempt to comfort the sobbing boy.

“Don’t cry, my Prince,” she soothed. “You’re safe now. And although we didn’t capture the vile monkey-man who captured you, fear not that we’ll send an army to kill him most brutally as soon as we return you to your home. The Queen will be so overjoyed at your return that I’m sure she’ll throw you a huge feast to celebrate and,” she added, knowing more than a little of what was important to males, “I’m sure that she’ll gift you with many beautiful presents to wipe these days of fear from your mind.”

“Presents?” Alexin asked automatically, still too numb with shock to truly understand what was happening to him.

The Captain smirked at her own cleverness. Males were *so* easy to manipulate.

“Dozens of presents,” she assured him. “Gowns and jewels to your heart’s content. And you’ll be bathed and groomed and restored to your usual beauty, Prince Alexin. So stop your tears and smile.”

“Gods, Kaayn,” one of the other guards scoffed. “You’re such a fool. You actually believe that nonsense you’re saying to the boy?”

The Captain stiffened and narrowed her eyes angrily. “What are you saying, Nary?” she snarled.

“The only thing the Queen is likely to gift him with is our bodies suspended from the East Tower,” Nary replied.

Kaayn shook her head in confusion. “We’ve recovered the Prince.”

“From a monkey-man who threw magic at us,” Nary pointed out. “Two guesses as to *where* the monkey-man gained the ability to use magic?”

Kaayn looked at Alexin with dawning horror. “That isn’t possible,” she gasped. “It’s an animal *and* a male. How could it take another male’s magic?”

“It clearly *is* possible,” Nary argued angrily. “Maybe *that’s* why the rules state so firmly that males must be isolated from each other inside the barracks because males *can* lie with each other.”

“That’s blasphemy,” Kaayn snarled.

“And the idea of a monkey-man with magic isn’t?”

Kaayn turned to Alexin. “Did the beast touch you in your private places?” she demanded. “Did it... did it hurt you there?”

Alexin opened his mouth to yell that Skinner was no beast.

Then he paused and reconsidered.

The guards believed him grateful to have been ‘rescued’. Surely his best chance of escaping them was if they didn’t believe he *wanted* to escape. Not that he actually imagined he could escape, but he couldn’t believe that Skinner wasn’t already charging to his rescue. Skinner *was* coming for him. Skinner *had* to come for him. Because, quite apart from anything else, the magic that bound them together *demanded* that Skinner should do so.

And his best way of aiding that rescue was if he himself was free of the suspicion that he *wanted* to be reclaimed by his ‘monkey-man’.

“It...it... hu...hurt me *lots*,” he wailed, allowing tears to flood down his face. It mattered not that they were tears at Skinner’s absence because the Faerie knew not why he cried. “It...it put its nasty male thing in my...my bottom. And it hurt so much that I cried. It...it liked it when it made me cry.”

“Gods,” Kaayn gasped, reeling with shock and outrage.

“The Queen will blame *us* for this,” another guard muttered darkly. “For letting the beast kidnap him in the first place.”

“That’s not why she’ll kill us,” Nary scoffed. “The boy’s still good for breeding. She’ll still welcome his return. The problem is the Queen’s pride. She’ll not want it known that the Prince was bedded by the beast. The minute we tell her of what it did, our deaths are assured.”

“Hush,” Kaayn said. “Let me think. We cannot *not* return the boy, so we have to find a way to make it alright for us to do so. We don’t need to admit our knowledge that the boy’s magic’s been stolen.”

“So how do we explain losing more than two thirds of our number?” Nary demanded. “And, anyway, the boy witnessed our seeing of the magic.”

“Did he?” Kaayn chuckled. “He’s but a male, Nary.” She turned to Alexin and demanded, “Tell me, what think you of our rescue of you?”

Alexin blinked stupidly for a moment. Was he supposed to pretend he’d been both blind to Skinner’s power *and* deaf to the conversation the women had just had?

And then, thinking about it, he realized that less than two weeks previously he *would* have just dreamily allowed the conversation to waft over his head, dismissing it as ‘woman’ talk and therefore past his understanding.

“You...you frightened me,” he whispered. “When...when you made the ground crack I...I thought you meant to kill me. But...but then I realized you were trying to rescue me, and so I pulled Dinah back from the crack so you could help me.”

“See?” Kaayn laughed. “He has no idea. How could he know the beast took something that he doesn’t even know he had to steal?”

Alexin took a risk. “I...I know what it stole. It stole my magic to please my wife,” he stated sulkily. “It took that from me that only my wife should have. It...it hurt me and was glad. And...and it’s not *fair* that I lost my magic. Because...because I’m a boy. You...you shouldn’t have let it happen to me. You should...should have protected me. Because I’m just a boy and I couldn’t...couldn’t stop it hurting me.”

Although Kaayn was relieved the boy had no conception that his ‘magic’ was more than a sexual power, his words still cast daggers in her heart. It was true that a boy had no defenses and relied totally on the protection of a woman. The Faerie *had* let Alexin down, and it wasn’t fair that he was now forever tainted because of their failure.

“At least there’s no need to send an army after the monkey-man,” Nary’s snorted cruelly. “By tomorrow it’ll start feeling the cost of stealing a boy’s magic. Within three nights it will die in more agony than anything the Queen could inflict.”

Alexin paled dramatically. He’d been too consumed with fear at his own fate to consider Skinner’s. As long as the magic bound them together, Skinner *would* die if he was denied Alexin’s taste.

His capture had sealed *both* their fates unless Skinner managed to rescue him before their magic bond proved fatal.

“I have an idea,” Kaayn said. “The boy is clearly too traumatized to cope with a swift return to the ward-gate. Why, I think he is possibly so sore from the beast-man’s poor treatment of him that he can barely ride another mile without a good night’s sleep.”

“Go on,” Nary encouraged.

“We camp here for the night and send a rider back to the castle saying that Alexin is too weak to ride. In fact, we don’t send the rider until tomorrow morning, so that it seems as though he’s not only tired but genuinely in need of a medicant since even a night’s rest hasn’t enabled us to move him. Only... that rider ‘accidentally’ finds Ariana and her guards instead of Queen Sylvana. Ariana will inevitably insist on riding out immediately to claim Alexin, for fear we might decide he’s an unveiled man free for the taking, and *she’ll* be the one to discover he’s lost his magic when she lies with him.”

“What benefit is that to us?” Nary demanded.

Kaayn chuckled wickedly. “I *know* Ariana. The bitch has too much pride to admit she’s taken a ‘used’ boy as her concubine. Yet she *will* want him as concubine. He’s still beautiful enough to bed and, anyway, she’ll still want the alliance, and the produce of Alexin’s seed. So she’ll veil him and pretend that *she* has taken his magic and Sylvana will be none the wiser.”

“We’ll return to the castle in triumph. Having rescued the boy *and* assured the alliance,” Nary agreed. “It won’t even matter if Sylvana *does* later discover our deception because she’ll be too grateful we found a way to conceal the boy’s shame.”

Alexin listened in growing horror, though he was still crying too hard at the thought of Skinner dying in agony for his horror to show on his face.

Concubine?

It had already been decided, even before they knew his magic was gone, that he was not to be husband but *concubine* to Ariana?

And, as if that was not terrifying enough, he couldn’t even begin to imagine Ariana’s reaction to finding out that his magic had been stolen. What manner of cruelties might that already vile woman find to punish him for denying her his magic?

If Skinner *didn’t* rescue him in time to prevent Ariana lying with him, the magic would be broken between them.

Skinner’s magical compulsion to return to him would be shattered into a million irreparable pieces and *any* hope of rescue would be gone unless Skinner had truly meant it when he’d claimed to love *him* rather than his magic. Freed of the magic, Skinner possibly wouldn’t even *attempt* to steal him back.

But Skinner *had* claimed to love him. *Really* love him. And Alexin *had* to believe that Skinner had been speaking the truth.

And his own very real love for Skinner reminded Alexin that at least if Skinner failed to rescue him in time, for whatever reason, at least the severing of their bond would ensure that Skinner wouldn’t die in agony.

Skinner’s veins wouldn’t explode because of the unslaked need in his blood.

Skinner would be safe.

It was an unfamiliar feeling, putting his own needs and fears aside for the sake of another. It actually *hurt* to do so. It made his heart ache and his chest tight and the tears already streaming down his face erupt into a fresh torrent of grief as he understood that he’d never ever see Skinner again if Ariana lay with him.

Although, the moment Skinner knew the bond between them had been broken he’d *know* Alexin had been unfaithful.

Skinner would possibly *hate* him.

And Ariana would hate him, too.

As Ariana’s concubine, Alexin knew his life would be short and cruel. His magic would have afforded him some protection from her worst excesses. The demand of his magic for her protection would have prevented her from being able to ever *truly* hurt him.

But without the protection of his magic, there would be nothing to restrain her natural cruelty. She would, inevitably, delight in hurting him endlessly. It was a fate so terrible that he could only pray for the mercy of dying in Ariana’s bed before she grew tired of tormenting him and passed him to her guards for further abuse.

Alexin was so terrified of the future that beckoned that he could barely breathe.

If Skinner didn’t manage to rescue him in time, Alexin’s fate would be too terrible for contemplation.

Yet, somehow, just as he had made the unconscious decision to save Dinah’s life at the cost of his own capture, Alexin now made the deliberate decision that if the unthinkable happened and Skinner *didn’t* rescue him, he’d willingly sacrifice himself to Ariana to save Skinner from a terrible death.

Not, to be truthful, that he had any way of preventing Ariana from mounting him anyway.

~~~

Skinner frowned.

He’d actually been scowling permanently for two hours, ever since Alexin’s capture, but now his frown was one of confusion rather than anger.

The passageway into Crystal City was sealed.

Not by rocks, but by a huge, unguarded gate of iron.

It seemed that in fifty years his people *had* already worked to make their city impregnable. It was, he had to admit, fortunate that they hadn’t arrived at this place at full gallop pursued by fifty-odd Faerie. Yet it was impossible to celebrate the lack of pursuit, when its cost had been Alexin’s capture.

“Do you think we’re supposed to knock?” Frohike quipped painfully, through his greatly swollen jaw.

The little man’s attempt at levity just sent a bolt of fresh fury through Skinner. He lifted his hand, pointed it at the gate and blew the heavy structure right off its hinges.

“Wow,” Langly gasped. “He’s pretty good at the magic when he’s mad.”

Frohike, who was sitting behind Langly’s saddle, shushed his lover quickly. Though he knew Skinner’s fury at them was truly just a way of the man struggling to control his grief, he didn’t trust Skinner not to unleash a little magical temper in *their* direction if they weren’t extremely careful.

Skinner rode into the passageway, uncaring that there was a second gate on its far side. He was fully prepared to destroy *that* one, too. In fact, given his mood, he was almost looking forward to wreaking a little more destruction.

The two horses were perhaps halfway through the passage when an arrow thudded into the dirt just a few feet from the bay’s front hooves.

Skinner ignored the clear warning and rode on.

The next arrow was so close it almost nicked the bay’s left ear.

“That’s your second and last warning,” a youthful voice cried from a concealed point above their heads.

“Fire at me again, boy, and I’ll take great pleasure in inserting these arrows between your buttocks,” Skinner roared. “You dare deny me entrance to my own city?”

Langly looked over his shoulder at Frohike. Frohike just shrugged his own bemusement. Skinner had made it clear repeatedly to them that he was intending to enter his old city in the form of a humble supplicant for sanctuary, not as its returning long lost Chieftain. He’d said that his fifteen year absence had stripped him of any rights as far as his people were concerned.

“I guess he figures this is his best chance of gaining control of the army,” Langly whispered.

“Yes,” Frohike agreed glumly. “Looks like instead of *asking* for help, he’s going to stage a coup.”

“Identify yourself, stranger. Because you’re no man of Crystal City,” the voice challenged once more.

“Identify yourself first,” Skinner spat.

There was a confused silence above for a few minutes, then the voice called, “I am Eagle Hunter, son of Salmon Spearer, son of Bear Fighter, son of…”

“Enough,” Skinner barked rudely. “I don’t need your entire clan, boy. I simply wanted to know the name of your sire. Is he still living?”

“He is,” the voice replied, with obvious confusion.

“Then send one of your companions, for I’m sure there are more than one of you lurking in those rocks, to fetch Salmon Spearer and inform him that Valtere Skinner has returned.”