WandWpart16

Romance. Another human. The voice must belong to another damnable human. "Yes. He came often, to sit and talk to me. To - never mind. And then after a very long time, I think, there was a difference. He came then to stay." He told me what he did, how he made them suffer. I was very proud of him. But this was no change. I expected no less. I chose him. I was already proud of him.

Damned human romance. I became aware I was speaking in this one's tongue, not my own. Ah. The bit of magical stone. Truly, technology had come far amongst the human wizards.

"No." Pause. Should I tell this human? Perhaps. He was important to the one who carried my consciousness, the one to whom I chose to give what gifts his quick, suspicious mind was willing to take. Although the last revelation had nearly broken him. Truth, I could almost smile inside. The fiery one's swift rejection of my reality, of myself, had almost hurt my feelings.

"The dragon." Tired. I had filled this wizard with my memories, in hopes of what? Touching his sympathies? Healing his doubt and shock? He thought he had knowledge. Like all of us, he could only be deemed wise when he realized how little he truly knew.

It had taken perhaps longer to convince him than his friends had time for. I would let him go now, and return to sleep. I would wake again if he needed me. If he chose to ask my help at all. If he chose to help me in turn; ah, I would not count on it.

"Mor'gwaine," I agreed, before letting myself fall away from the mind of this Firehawk, this strange creature from another world I did not even wish to imagine. "I asked the dragon to give him what I could not. To love him. For what remained of his life."

He looked like shit. Aside from the long stripe of grime running down his nose and across one cheek, there were lack-of-sleep smudges under his eyes dark enough to be bruises. He seemed to have lost a few pounds, too, and the kid just didn't have any to spare. The crystal-grey eyes looked positively huge on that gaunt, white face. The pale hair, usually so clean and bright, was a mess of tangles and dust.

"What the hell have you been doing to yourself?" I more or less barked at him. Then I looked around, sneezing again, and realized that number one, I didn't have a fucking clue as to where I was or how I'd gotten there. Number two, I was as filthy as Jalin, with what I can only describe as book dirt.

Books. Books and scrolls, all over the place. On the wall, on the stone floor where we were sitting, and I don't know about Jalin but my ass was about to freeze to death. Torches on the wall provided a sort of light for reading, but not a damn bit of heat. There was a scroll sitting on my lap, some strange, elaborate curly writing I shouldn't have been able to read. My tonguestone doesn't translate the written word, only speech. Of course Jarone had made me learn some writing, the common language and some of the more archaic ones, in the course of teaching me magic. And you better believe I bitched about it; way I saw it, at my age I shouldn't have to be learning to fucking read and write.

"Firehawk?" Jalin's voice sounded as bad as he looked, shaky and weak and disbelieving. Before I could even verify that yeah, Firehawk, who the hell did he *think* was sitting here freezing his butt off in some cold dank library, he suddenly bloody *yelled* my name.

"HAWK!" The echoes from his shout stirred up dust from all the musty old volumes and started me sneezing again. I didn't have time to worry about it or even curse, though, because suddenly there was a platinum blond kid hurtling into my lap, crunching the eleven scroll to powder, face buried in my neck and hugging me so hard my eyes bugged out. "Hawk, it's you, Hawk, it's you!" He seemed ready to go on chanting this mantra forever.

"Geeze! Jalin, chill, chill. So'kay, yeah it's me. Mind telling me where we are, what the fuck we're doing here, and why you look like you been beat up, starved and shit on?"

I wrapped my arms around him, both for my comfort and his. Truth to tell, I wasn't feeling so hot myself. My head hurt, my brain felt fried. Like a computer that downloaded too much information and then crashed out. Now, where did that image come from anyway? My bones felt full of broken glass. Time to toss a healing spell, since autopilot wasn't working. It took a bit more effort than I was used to, but I was just thankful I still could do it, considering.

Oh, shit. Carson. I saw myself, flinching away from his touch. Yelling at him. And unfortunately now I was remembering what I'd yelled at him. A bunch of boneheaded rot, about him not really wanting me? Oh, God. I couldn't believe I'd been that stupid.

I couldn't believe *Smitty* had been that stupid. She didn't know dick about elves, in this world or any other. And I guessed now that maybe I hadn't, either.

They hadn't left the world because the Aesir had come. Shit, the Drow were actually pretty tight with the Northern gods. That was just the propaganda, the story the Southern leaders had put about. Because even amongst their own people, there were a fair number who thought they should just leave the elves the fuck alone, since said elves were doing their evil depraved things in their own territory and minding their own business. And as far as attempted genocide went -- Ooh, there were a lot of kingdoms back then that would've rebelled right out of the Empire if they'd realized what was going on.

"Carson," Jalin repeated woodenly, ignoring the rest of my probably incoherent gabble. For a less-than-noble second I thought I was seeing jealousy here, but I got disabused of that in one hell of a hurry.

"You hurt him badly," the kid said softly, leaning back and staring me in the eyes with a look that laid no blame on me but was definitely unhappy. "I have tried to comfort him, through these days without you. But I am not you. I am not his Bonded."

Goddamn, kid! "Let's just take that as a given, okay?" I barked. And then I saw the hurt in his face and could've kicked myself straight up the asshole. "I'm sorry. I'm a bit tense here." Pulled him in for a kiss, and he gave it back, but almost cautiously. I could feel his lips quivering under mine; yeah, there was definitely something very wrong here. Jalin's usual response to a kiss from me was to return it to the fifth power and then try to climb into my pants as a side note.

"Jalin, you said I hurt Carson. Did I hurt you, too? Because I didn't mean to." I kept my voice low and soothing, ruthlessly squashing my very real need to scream and cry and kick something. "Baby, just tell me everything that happened. I'm in no hurry here."

//Angry Drow elf. Frustrated, giving up on being subtle. He thinks we are evil scum, just like all the other idiot humans. We will access this human's mind and make him understand us.//

//Never been in total control of the human before. Unsure as yet how to use the power he owns, can't communicate with his friends, the knowledge is here, you dullards, here!//

"You..you struck at him. With magic. It was not a firebolt, it was..it was what you told me never to use, ever. The black mana. The death spells." His voice went hushed. "I was right behind him. It caught me, too."

I've always been able to see the black mana, although I didn't always want to admit it to myself. And from the first, I knew to avoid it. That way lay madness. Not to mention terrible backlash. If you use black magic, you always pay big time. That's always been the rule, both on Earth and here.

On Earth, it's a few doped-up Satanists playing with powers they don't understand, usually just for the thrill of it or for media attention. And usually the poor fools don't expect anything to happen outside of their psychedelic fantasies.

I'd been a horror movie buff on Earth. Laughed at zombie movies, grinned at ghouls. Living dead? No problem! All makeup and acting, right? Even as the technical shit got better, computer enhanced, I'd had no problem. Just enjoyed the trip more.

Injure, poison, cause disease with a thought. Other things. I could call demons, and the demons here made Satan look like a Baptist minister. I could do all kinda stuff.

"I felt like I was melting. I have never been strong, Hawk, not like the Wolf, but I didn't even have strength enough left to stand. And Carson.." he paused, drew in a suck of air. "I have never seen him helpless. Until then. He fought it, but he fell just as surely as I did."

Weakness spell, or Drain Life. Please let it be Weakness, because with that other spell the wizard steals your life force into himself and it's permanent, you never get it back again. If I had done that to either of them I could never forgive myself.

Another thing that caught the edge of my attention. Jalin had used Carson's Earth name. Twice now. That meant he was way closer to my bad boy than when I'd zonked out.

That meant I'd been gone for much longer than I could believe. Oh thank you, you Drow motherfucker. But there was at least one thing he'd given me that was useful.

He was okay. All around him, a silver-blue nimbus, somewhat greyed-out in areas; his health had suffered, worrying about me, but nothing else. Just a weakness spell, then. Hadn't slept or eaten for days. But he'd recover fully, given time, sleep and lots of protein.

I think I leaped involuntarily, because the kid jerked awake from the doze he'd started against my chest, as he realized I was really back. That I was entirely myself -- and pain in the ass that I can sometimes be, wouldn't hurt him again. "Hawk?"

"Let go, kid. Gotta go to Carson!" Oh, God. If he would ever forgive me. How he loved being strong; how a weakness spell would have hurt him. If I'd blasted him with a Firebolt and knocked him ass over teakettle it would've been more acceptable to him.

Plus I had to let him know about the Southern assholes, and their treaty with those of the East, some of whom were truly evil. Night stalkers. Cannibals.

"Hawk!" He was grabbing me, trying to hold me. No, *was* holding me. Mainly because I let him hold me. I'd not hurt him again, ever, in any way. I certainly wouldn't ever use any magic against him or Carson, ever again.

But I *would* use whatever was given me, to defend them. Whether it was black magic or not. Death magic, or life. And if it took me being a bad guy to keep them safe, and these other people of my Tribe safe-----

"Hawk," he said again, softer, once he was sure he had me in his grip. "It's late afternoon, now. You should go to him in the night. When he can touch you. It would be easier for him. Stay with me, Hawk. For a little while?"

Jalin's eyes dropped. Then raised. And I swear, you gotta be a sixteen year old kid to go through all that terror and exhaustion, and still come up horny.

I more or less carried him to the baths. The books could wait, although I knew there was something very important in them, something I needed to find. But as far as I was concerned, it was break time. Doing this Drow's business had eaten up enough of my days - and nights, curse it. And Jalin's. He hadn't let himself sleep except in snatches, convinced that if he did, he would wake up and find me completely gone, and gone for good. Plus Carson had asked him to watch me.

Now, even though he definitely seemed to think a welcome-back boink was mandatory for politeness' sake if nothing else, the poor kid just didn't have it in him. He was swaying on his feet, drowsing even as he spoke to me. I would get him washed up and to bed.

I informed him of this and ignored his protests. Took a sniff under my own armpit and made a face. "Jesus Christ, I guess we'll share the bath, kid. Maybe there's a reason nobody ever wanted to visit the elves."

He choked and began to giggle weakly, hanging onto me so he wouldn't fall down from the immense effort. "You're really back," he sort of mumbled. "Carson will be, so happy, that you're really back."

Carson. That made time number three, of Jalin calling him that. Goddammit, what all had I missed while out of it? I could get some pissed at this lousy Drow named Stormblade.

Except, dammitall, I felt sorry for the bastard. Through all the knowledge he'd given me, of wars long past and magical swords that I had to find or else, it was his personal story I found myself brooding over. Even though the more immediately pressing matter, to my mind, was the Southern bastards intending to ally with the Eastern necromancers just to get back at the tribes for destroying their Empire. What? How many hundreds of years ago? Talk about some grudge-holding suckers. Especially since they started all the crap in the first place, and to my mind got what they deserved.

Shit. Call me a romantic. Because the main stuff going through my head from this wealth of info was not anything useful to me, or to my tribe. No, what kept replaying in my mind was the Drow with his half-human lover.

Only got to do it once. Is that sad or what? And even that had only been a head job and some kissing and pawing, not the intense blend of pure animal lust and searing, mind-melded rapture that elves preferred. Lovemaking that lasted for days. Orgasm lasting for how long?

Shit, I must be dreaming on that one. Or maybe it was the Drow bragging. But the guys had only got to boink once, and even then it hadn't been a full-throttle deal, thanks to the Drow elf's injuries, the lack of time. How upset would I be, if through circumstance I only got to touch Carson one time and then was locked away from him until he died?

Well, I think I had my answer. Me and this Drow, we weren't so far apart after all. Because I could just fucking see making war on a whole nation, if the bastards had kept me from Carson. Being way more emotional than me, Carse probably wouldn't stop short of blowing up the planet.

The Drow elf had given me another gift before he left. An apology, if you like, for taking my body and using it. It was just now starting to kick in, banishing my headache in an instant. I could feel it curling through me like some subtle but potent incense.

My every sense heightened, vision sharpened to a level that was nearly painful. I could feel every part of Jalin touching me, could almost taste him with my skin even through our grubby clothes. Colors seemed more vivid, and the air around me whispered with magic, even in this old dusty library. My gaze fastened briefly on a scroll across the room lying on a half-rotten table. In an instant, I know it was a long history of some forgotten boring war with another tribe. If I needed to, I could have picked names and dates from it without reading it at all. It was as if the damn books talked to me, imparting their knowledge with no effort on my part. Like I was accessing computer records from long ago.

I had never felt so blazingly alive in my life. Well, maybe when using magic, or during sex. But this wasn't that powerful but all too brief rush of sensation, this was..whoa.

More subtle, but just as powerful. And constant. I had a feeling that until I got used to it, sensing the world like this was gonna be pretty distracting.

"Just spaced out for a minute there," I reassured him. And then, quietly, "Thank you. And it's okay to come back, just no taking over, right? And definitely no hurting my friends again."

It struck me then why this way of seeing the world seemed somewhat familiar despite the strangeness. It was the cool silverlight of not-Keith, the other persona that I wore when using or learning very powerful magic beyond the quick, automatic tossing of firebolts or healing. Even further back, a tiny bit like the swirling magic of an LSD trip while still under control.

Then I shrugged away all the esoterics and focused on tending to Jalin. I wasn't gonna explain this new facet of myself to him, not right away. I'd already noticed he was a surprisingly conservative kid when it came to change. He mistrusted it, especially in people he cared about.

He giggled and gabbled as I dragged him to the hot springs and peeled him of his sticky, grimy clothes. I'd once worked two jobs when I was really desperate for cash, and could identify with the goofy urge to communicate that got into a person low on sleep. I shucked clothes and dragged him into the water, grabbing a handful of the paste they called sweetsand to soap him up. While I was accomplishing this, I learned that most of the tribe's people had been frantic with worry for me. Seemed I was a popular guy without even knowing it.

And of course, I was mostly upset that Carson had been hurt because of all my bullshit. But call me a petty person. What really got to me was the news that Do'nar had sacrificed what was left of his beard to Thor in the hopes of bringing me back from the evil clutches of whatever had possessed me.

I couldn't help it, I began to pop and snort, and Jalin was laughing so hard I was afraid of him drowning as I soaped his hair down. I mean, if you like beards then Do'nar's had been a fine one, before I blew him up with a firebolt. But afterwards, all he had left was a half-charred chunk of facial hair that made him look like a molting pigeon. For some reason, though, he clung to what was left as if it were a badge of honor; knowing that he'd let the ghastly thing go for my sake touched me pretty deeply.

"How the hell do you sacrifice a beard?" I managed to ask as I lathered up the kid's hair and began massaging the sweetsand gently through the tangled mess.

"You burn it." He choked and I thought I'd gotten the sandsoap up his nose, and then realized he was laughing at Do'nar. "Well, first you get very drunk on Firefog wine and Blue Death mixed."

"And then you yell t-threats at Thor for half an hour. And nearly slit your throat trying to remove the beard, until your worthless student in arms offers to help shave you out of fear for your life."

"Good boy, Jalin. Proud of you." I was laughing too hard to be any good at washing his hair efficiently; deciding he'd had enough, I ducked his head to rinse the sand off. He came up sputtering and still laughing, with long hair plastered around his face but utterly clean and tangle-free. Great stuff, sweetsand.

I dipped my own head under water and began soaping up, careful to avoid the betrothal braid. "Okay, and I'm just guessing here, then you pass out from alcohol poisoning and your worthless student in arms has to put you to bed?"

Jalin looked at me haughtily. "I had not the strength to drag Do'nar's carcass to bed, him being foolish enough to perform his ceremony in the very center of camp." His fingers dove unexpectedly into my soapy hair and began to deftly return the favor of shampooing me. "I did, however, remove his boots."

I groaned. "Very thoughtful. I'm sure everyone within smelling distance that hadn't already been knocked down by his choice of beverage was SO grateful to you. ACK!" Damn if the little bastard didn't also return the favor of ducking me, although I wasn't sure in his case if it was entirely just to de-soap me.

I came up sneezing from water up my nose, and grabbed him by the shoulders, intending to give him a playful shake. I found my arms full of a shuddering, too-skinny kid who'd gone abruptly from one side of hysterics to the other.

I learned a lot, as he sobbed into me. That Carson, still lying weakened on the floor from my spell, had instructed a terrified Smitty to go and find some overmuscled dudes with hammers to bash out the wall my other self had been so fixated on. Thus revealing the library. Into which I'd disappeared, the moment there was room enough.

Carson had asked Jalin to watch me. Because I'd vanished into the revealed bookroom without a look, a thought, a word for the people I'd hurt. Looking for the records that would explain everything and, even more, tell where the elfsword lay hidden.

Of course, Jalin hadn't been too displeased at the whole concept of "library". The poor studious kid had never seen so many books in his life. But he was scared almost witless of the obsessed, snarling being in my body. Eventually, though, that being had begun to speak understandable Tribal language, and his fear had lessened considerably. Especially when the guy assured him he'd be giving me back very shortly.

Well, that made sense, the language thing. Elven hadn't been spoken for hundreds of years; it would take the tonguestone in my head a while to get a fix on it and begin to translate back and forth. Apparently, once they began to understand each other, the Drow and Jalin had got quite a conversation going.

And hallalujah. The elf had found out where the rune-sword was hidden. Communicated it to Jalin, who thankfully hadn't attempted to retrieve it, not being much of a swimmer.

You had to have a lot of elven blood to touch that blade without injury. Only two people in the tribe could retrieve the sword that had belonged to the warchief Bloodwolf, without being badly injured or even killed.

Well, the sword was for him, in any case. But wouldn't it just be a fine apology for all the trouble I'd caused him, to show up tonight with a little gift for him?

"Oh, yes." I gathered my forces..well, part of them anyway. With magic thrumming through my blood, crowding the air around me, a little thing like a Water Breathing spell was barely an effort. "I'm going for a little swim, Jalin. Don't worry. I don't think it'll take too long."

And before he could start excitedly protesting again, I dove into the warm scented water and began searching for the tunnel opening somewhere deep beneath it.

I fucked up on two counts, of course. The business I'd been in before finding Carson, I shoulda known better. All I can say is, being with him had managed to distract me from every other concern in my life except to boink him as often as humanly possible.

So in I went, armed with only a stack of Water Breathing spells. I mean, I called up a bunch and stored them in the part of my brain that held magic, like a six-pack of beer in a fridge. I'm basically a Fireball/Destruction boy, and Water Breathing was Alteration magic. Not my worst school of wizardry, but I wasn't a master at it. A good Alteration wizard could be under water for hours at a time with one spell. I averaged forty minutes to an hour. Not bad, but I knew neither how far I would have to swim, nor how much digging or searching I'd need to do to find the damn sword. Something told me it wasn't gonna come walking out to me on stick legs and yell 'howdy', though.

So I made me some backup, hoping it would be enough. To have six spells on tap, hopefully four hours in the can besides the forty minutes in the spell already working, seemed adequate preparation to me. But you never knew. If it seemed to be taking longer than I had, I'd just swim back and load up more reserves.

When you are searching for something valuable, damn it, there is ALWAYS a fucking monster guarding it. Guarantee ya. And I was down here bumbling around without so much as a nail file. In the water, which slows your movements down anyway; I never liked questing underwater. Aside from the slowness factor, you just can't see very damn well either. Although now, with the new Dark elf senses, I seemed to be doing better both for movement and eyesight. Which was lucky for me.

My second screw-up was to assume that Jalin would listen to me and just do what the hell I had asked him to. In a way, that was stupider than me forgetting everything I knew about questing. I also forgot everything I knew about teenage kids.

I saw the dark, muted opening of the underwater cavern. Just about four feet across, a small cave. I knew that was where the sword was, so I swam towards it. I might just be able to reach in and..shit!

The thing that boiled out at me when I reached for the opening was..well, as appearances go, a smallish, voluptuous female with a fish tail. Lots of blonde hair, mermaid backside, enormous hooters all out of proportion to the really petite body. The questing man's wet dream. Except for the size and sharpness of the shark teeth she was baring at me. No, SNAPPING at me. This gal was serious, and my manly charisma didn't impress her one bit. In fact she actually seemed to be aiming those killer teeth at my crotch, where most of my manly charisma is located.

I paddled back in one hell of a hurry, searching for spells almost frantically. Like I say, I'm a Fire Magic guy. Firebolt is my permanent ready-spell, and I could cast it with no effort or thought, but fire magic just isn't that effective underwater. If I'd been half-way thinking before I dove in, I would've readied something else. About the best I could do now, as I dodged this toothy, unfriendly woman with crazed bursts of swimming that would have sent my old water polo team into hysterics, was to whip up a half-assed Electric Bolt. Not a strong spell, not enough time to make it strong, but it might stun her enough so I could rush into the cave, grab the sword, and book. Or at least so I could escape without her sinking teeth into my ass.

I hurled the spell. Just about the same time as Jalin, hitching a ride in my brain without me even aware of it, decided to throw up magical armor to protect me.

His armor spell had worked well before, against the Wolf in Carson's body. But Jalin hadn't been half-dead from exhaustion at that time. Now, instead of protecting me, his attempt at shielding only served to slam my own damn spell right back in my face. And consequently into his.

I felt his cry of pain and disbelief as he was knocked free of my mind. I could only hope he ended up okay in the outside world. Right now, I had troubles enough my own self.

The Electric Bolt I'd thrown, like I said, smacked me right back in the face thanks to Jalin's attempt at armoring me. Thank God the damn thing was a quickie; if I'd built up a decent spell I probably would've killed myself with my own magic. And they write sarcastic things in the New Wizard Review about guys stupid enough to do that.

As it was, I was pretty well stunned for a few seconds. But I had an advantage; as a musician, I'd electrocuted myself on stage a time or two. And I'd learned that even with your whole body buzzing in anguish, you don't freeze up. You don't stop playing for something as stupid as zapping yourself silly.

So even in the backlash of the spell, the totally crappy feeling of shock and dark sickness, I kept moving. Dodging. Seemed like all I could see was her clashing teeth, up close and personal. And the gills on her neck, opening and closing as she harried me.

I grabbed for what I had; the only thing I had, although it had been meant for another purpose. I grabbed half of my Water Breathing spells, kicked them mentally into being missiles instead of spells affecting their caster. I blasted them straight down this rude bitch's throat; right into her damn breathing apparatus, matter of fact. And then I dove for all I was worth.

Jarone always said I was the best ad-libber of a wizard he'd ever seen or heard of. Oh, I had power enough to be scary too. I scared even myself at times. But even more than this, I could use it outside the box. And that was something rare. Most wizards here are like middle-aged housewives, fussily relying on their recipes. And unable to cope when the cake falls.

I've never been like that. Call it a gift. Or maybe it was just being from another world, and the things I'd experienced with Carson even before coming here. But I was willing to break rules to get the result I wanted. Willing? Hell, I didn't even think about it any more.

I struck the soft sand at the bottom of the water, and twisted myself around to see if what I'd done had worked, or if I was about to become wizard soup.

Although I never was as harassed as Carson had been by school bullies, there had been this one outsized asshole in eighth grade, who for some reason decided it was his personal quest to make my life miserable. Beat me up about three times a week, showing far more ingenuity than such a moron should have for guessing my changing routes home and ambushing me. But this guy had asthma, and at one point he got so excited by pounding crap out of me his weakness kicked in.

Believe me, a person loses all their aggressive instincts when they can't fucking breathe. Any talent for mayhem is also sacrificed. I kicked Greg Fletcher's ass that day as he flopped around gasping and wheezing. I was kind enough to phone an ambulance for him once I'd bloodied him up enough, but I could see immediately that no ambulance would save this babe even if they had such a thing.

She writhed through the water above me, hands clutching her throat. The violence of her convulsions frothed soundless bubbles through the liquid she could no longer breathe. I watched her die with clinical detachment, filing the information I'd already known somewhere inside me. A Water Breathing spell meant for an air-breathing human, cast upon one of our piscean friends, equals one goddamn terminated fish. You might as well call Gorton's to come make those crispy breaded sticks they advertise so exuberantly.

I waited until she stilled and floated limply away; probably would rise to the surface of the bathing pool and scare the crap out of Jalin. Jalin. Oh, shit; needed to get back and make sure he was okay.

I went into the cavern, not forgetting to mentally check that none of her sisters - or brothers if it came to that - was lying in wait. Nope, she had been it. As mean and aggressive as she was, she probably would have been enough against most people.

It gleamed faintly in the water, the ten-inch hilt of a rearing dragon looking to be carved of ivory, or maybe white jade. The dragon had crimson eyes, and it was clutching something in taloned hands. At first, being a little punch-drunk from my fight, I thought "Holy Shit, the dragon is beating off and his dick has red eyes, too!" Then I realized that it was gripping a serpent's throat, locked in battle; the snake's tail curled all the way down the rest of the hilt, making a nice, secure hand-hold. Christ, Keith, do you have sex on the brain or what?

I grabbed the hilt cautiously; the blade itself was sheathed in some kind of black, hard case. I felt no strong urge to draw the thing and check it out; this was for Carson, the weapons master, the god of cold sharp metal. But as a wizard, I could feel the power thrumming through it, the restless desire to slay as it was meant to. To slay humans.

When I clambered out of the pool dragging the sword behind me, I was totally delighted and relieved to see Jalin up, dressed, and pacing around frantically, but with no obvious injury. You lose your time sense a bit when fighting, let alone under water; it had probably taken longer than it seemed to me. "Yo, kid!" I yelled at him, grinning and waving the sword. "Look what I found in a dumpster!"

Winning treasure puts you in a fine, celebrating mood; I don't care if it's a big-ass magic sword or just a few coins of silver. I just loved the world at that moment, and I forgot I'd been intending to give him a big piece of my mind for the dumb stunt he'd pulled. I was feeling pretty smug and bad-assed, and all I wanted was to be hugged and congratulated.

He ran up to me as I pulled out of the water and stood up, dripping. I dropped the sword, opened my arms, and prepared for a big kiss to welcome me back.

Like when I get annoyed and slug Carson, who is about as vulnerable to fist-fighting as a steel golem, the blow didn't really rock my world. He was a fragile kid anyway, and tired to boot. I think in fact a Girl Scout could've fielded that punch, but it surprised me so much I nearly fell back into the water.

"Don't you ever leave me behind again when you're going into danger!" he shouted at me, red in the face and winding up to take another smack at me. "Don't you ever!"

"Holy crap, Jalin!" I dodged him easily, catching his arms behind his back, holding him firmly despite his struggles. "What's all this about? I told you to stay here!"

From crimson-faced rage he stilled into a cold, white fury that was more in his nature, anyway. All the show of wild temper was due to the passion of youth and nervous energy, not what he was really like. His eyes were now deadly silver, coins of ice, as he stared into my face and hissed, "I may not be a warrior, but I'm not useless! You take me with you next time!" If he'd been an Earth kid I'm sure he would've added, "Or else!"

I stared at him for a moment, as he quivered in my grip with the rounded chin stuck out as far as possible. There was a mulish, stubborn pout there too. I'd seen the same look on many students from my past, when they'd decided that my knowledge and/or advice was for the birds, and what was I gonna do about it?

Usually, I managed to make my point reasonable in some manner that the kid had to agree with, reluctant or not. And Jalin was logic-driven in a lot of ways; probably more prone to listen to a considered argument than some of the boneheads I'd taught on Earth.

But I was working at disadvantage here. Because I remembered a similar conversation, my own disappointment and fury at being thought of as a burden in battle. And how I'd mentally gone with Carson to watch out for him, even though I don't have the kind of magic skills that would let me be so, well, sneaky about it. Jalin shouldn't have been able to slip into my mind without my knowledge, not the level of wizard I was. But he'd done it, by God.

"I'm sorry, Jalin. I was in a hurry, and not thinking. Next time, you come with. But we'll be teaching you some tricks of the trade before then, right? So you don't accidentally cause me to blow my own head off?"

"R-right," he stammered, confused as hell at my abrupt capitulation but too shrewd to question his good luck. His eyes held mine for a moment, then he broke into a shy, apologetic smile that warmed my bones. "I-I did clean up your clothes. While you were-gone. While I was waiting."

"Good kid; I'm freezing." I wasn't really; the temperature in the bathing room was warming me already, though the deeper water where I'd found the sword and the damn tooth fairy guarding it had been cold indeed.

I'd figured out that the shift in temperature meant the hiding place of the sword was on another plane than this one, not just underwater in our world. Because it hadn't really taken me much of a swim to get down there. The alternate reality hiding place had been clever. It also explained why some sweaty barbarians with their minds just on cleanliness or a bit of a soak hadn't suddenly gotten their dicks bitten off in the bathing pool. Why I'd been able to slide through between worlds so effortlessly I had no idea, but I was pleased that her rotting corpse wouldn't foul up our bath water here.

Our bath water. Listen to me. Talk about changing values. I kill a woman - well, another living being anyway - and the only feeling I can drum up is delight that my swim hole won't be polluted.

I just had to shrug, then, even at the thought. I could try and talk myself into feeling guilty all day long, but the facts of the matter were simple. I wasn't on Earth. Things were done differently here. And the only real arbitrators of political correctness in the world lived down South, and were my enemies now.

And I was a half-Drow Elf. "Guilt" wasn't even a word in their vocabulary, and the human notion of sinful behavior had been a subject of much amusement around their dinner table. I was finally beginning to understand that. Not to mention agree.

He was standing before me, holding one of the huge drying cloths the Riders use, soft as a kitten's fur but more absorbent than any scratchy Earth towel. Colorful, like nearly all of the Rider's fabric except for war gear. Now that his clothes were clean, I saw they were the same drawstring pants and thin loose shirt as I had, but somehow he'd lucked out and scored a set of plainer clothes. Still tie-dyed but all in various shades of blue without any clashing colors. They suited him far better than the over-loud gypsy stuff, bringing out a tinge of violet fire in the crystal grey eyes.

Or maybe, I thought, as he stepped on in and began thoughtfully drying me off instead of just handing me the cloth as I'd expected, maybe that fire came from eyeballing my wet, naked body. Nah, couldn't be. I'd been down there so long, I probably looked like a prune.

He restored my faith in my own instincts by suddenly pulling close to me and nuzzling at my neck gently, wrapping his arms around me so he could use the toweling on my back. If I was wrinkled as a raisin he sure wasn't caring. "I nearly got you killed, didn't I?" he whispered in a chastened tone. The slow and sultry movement of his lower body against me, though, was anything but chastened. "I'm sorry."

I don't really have a self-confidence problem, and my ego is in too good a shape for some people's comfort, I've been told. But man, I would recommend anybody with low self-esteem to get himself a coldly beautiful teenager like Jalin to rub up like that, and bite neck, and generally carry on like you're the hottest thing he's ever known. Guarantee you'll feel ten feet tall in no time, and there'll be some growth in other directions too.

But now, I gently pushed him away. "None of that till you've slept and had some food, kid. I'm not gonna have you getting me all hot to trot and then passing out on me."

He was still grumbling but reluctantly handed me my shirt, which I pulled on. "After you're more up to speed we'll work on coordinating our magic a bit. You have good instincts, but we both need to learn how to move together. Uh, pants too, Jalin. Don't give me that innocent look while you're holding my britches just out of reach."

He sighed and passed them over, probably realizing if he didn't I'd just come after them either physically or with magic. "I want to learn more magic with you. So many things have happened, and we've been so busy."

"I haven't had time to learn as I ought." He hesitated, then gave me one of those looks through long dark lashes, hints of storm and low thunder smoking the cool clarity of his eyes. Anybody who thinks that grey eyes can't show heat in their own way never had the joy of seeing a look like that pointed straight at them.

I swallowed. "We'll probably take, er, breaks. So as not to overdo it. All work and no play, you know the saying." Come to think, he probably didn't, but I'm sure he would've agreed with it.

And Jesus! That look. The tip of that pink tongue, just slightly emerging from a corner of his faintly smiling mouth. The through-the-eyelashes glance. I hopped into my pants as fast as I could without falling on my ass. Pitiful protection that they were, from this sex kitten slut who knew all too well the effect he had on me. And on anybody else, probably, who wasn't stone dead.

"I promise!" I sort of squalled; then in a less frantic and more dignified manner. "Jalin, we'll screw later. Is that what you're asking? Jesus, who needs me; Carson's probably had his hands full with you alone for a week!"

His expression didn't cool down; in fact the embers grew hotter. "We comforted each other, truly. But we both agreed how much better it would have been - " he hesitated, drew a breath, and finished.

"Between us," he went on calmly, giving me an example of this even as I tried to shush him. "Tied with leather and silk. Blindfolded, perhaps. Nothing to distract you from what we do to you."

"Jalin, shut up!" I all but roared at him. "You trying to kill me again? And nobody's tying me up, thanks very much; I don't think I trust the pair of you!"

"I just wanted to see what you thought of the idea," he said in an innocent tone that was somewhat ruined when his eyes slid to my crotch and his grin got bigger at the sight. "But I will obey you, Hawk. I will go to our tent, and try to rest. Perhaps you should rest, too?" In that innocent tone again that wasn't fooling me a bit now.

His naughty-brat expression changed dramatically to total seriousness. "More worried for you, I think. But it's a good thought; I can tell her you're back with us as well. It will bring her great happiness. Do you also wish food?" He eyed me doubtfully. "You never ate or slept in all the time you were gone, Hawk!"

"Naw, thanks, but I'm not hungry really either." And the funny thing was, it was true. Neither tired nor hungry. After all those days haring around scaring people, possessed and driven. And then a battle with a really mean tuna fish.

All feelings of tiredness, hunger, and even the disorientation of brain overload had simply vanished when the elven senses had kicked in. I'd never felt so healthy in my life. Plus the sharpened senses and reflexes, the knowledge of the ancients, the taste of singing magic in every breath I took. Damn, I could get used to this.

I didn't intend to get used to this at all. What if it were temporary? Or worse, addictive and temporary? Uh-uh, not this bad boy. I may have played around with drugs in the past, but I don't go for that kind of misery precisely because I've seen where it leads. And as if in answer to my thoughts, I suddenly knew the way to damp these senses down, except when they'd be useful. I'd be doing it pretty damn quickly here, too.

"Well, if you're sure. And truly, you should go to Carson now. Let him know you returned." Jalin eyed me somberly. "I think it was only my presence that kept him from going mad with rage and grief, some nights."

He said this with absolutely no false modesty, and I accepted it with absolutely zero jealousy. I hugged him quickly, in fact, a thank you that needed no words. He hugged me back.

I started to run. Startled tribespeople leaped out of my way, probably thinking I was still that bad tempered bastard from the past week. Well, they deserved to know I was back, but I didn't have time to stop and chat about it just now.