Book of Heroes: George of Sedona I - 2. Elvenhold

Chapter 2: Elvenhold

George saw a flash of light. His nose wrinkled at the sharp smell of cinnamon. The arena through which they had been riding and the barn were no longer there. The horse galloped toward a huge tree. George’s throat constructed with fear but Arthur’s arm around his waist held him tightly. The horse swerved at Arthur’s command, and then stopped.

“It’s always a good idea to ride at a gate quickly, but to stop as soon as you are through it. Now, where are we?” Arthur said. Then, “Are you all right, George?”

“We’re really here, aren’t we?” George whispered. “We’re in your world.”

“How do you know we’re not still in California?” Arthur teased.

George didn’t acknowledge the teasing. He looked around before answering. “California doesn’t have cedar trees that … that must be a thousand years old; the sun is the wrong color … it’s too yellow.”

“What else do you see?” Arthur asked.

George looked around. “Nothing, I don’t think,” he said. “Should I see something else?”

“Actually, no. Actually, you see a lot more than most people would,” Arthur replied and clucked to the horse, which began walking through the forest.

“Where are we going?” George asked.

“I’m not sure,” Arthur answered. “East until we find something I recognize, or a river we can follow to the sea.”

“Don’t you know where we are? And why east?” George asked. His alto voice squeaked soprano on the last word.

Arthur hugged the boy to him. “We are in my world, I’m sure of that. It’s the only one I know with thousand-year-old cedars, a sky that clear, and a sun that particular color. We’re on the right continent. The gate drifted a little, but gates aren’t chaotic. Furthermore, we’re in Elvenhold, or at least on that latitude. If we were north of there, we would be in rain forest. To the south would be more pine than cedar and oak,” Arthur said.

“As to why east? Because that’s the direction of the rising sun.” Arthur added as if it were self-evident. “Are you sure you are all right?”

In answer, the boy leaned into Arthur’s embrace, and relaxed. The gentle motion as the horse picked its way through the undergrowth, the warmth of the sun, and the soft susurrus of the wind through the treetops nearly lulled him to sleep. His head dropped to his chest; he jerked it upright, and cocked his head. He pointed to the left. “Over there’s the river you wanted.”

A nudge of Arthur’s knees turned the horse. In minutes, they were on the bank of a river. The water moved slowly in a channel between a sand bar on the far side and rocks on the near side. Where it passed over the rocks, the river burbled and danced.

“This is so beautiful,” George said. “There’s something missing.”

“What would that be?” Arthur asked.

“Litter. Wal-Mart bags, St…styrofoam cups, used condoms. Stuff like that,” George answered.

Arthur nodded, and turned the horse’s head downstream.

The river intersected a road at a ford. From there, the stone-paved road followed the river, winding through farms, pastureland, and woodlots. By late afternoon, they reached a hill. A town nestled in the valley below. “Elvenhold, all right,” Arthur said.

George gasped. The sun, setting behind them, painted the walls of the town and its skyline of towers and spires a dusky rose. The boys rode toward the town. The color faded and became like a purple-gray.

Two elven boys greeted them at the gate. Again, George gasped. The boys were tall—about six feet—but their slender build made them appear taller. One boy’s hair was copper; the other’s was silver. Their ears were a bit larger than those of a human, and slightly pointed at the tops, which peeped through their hair. Their eyes were larger, too, than human eyes and drawn slightly upward at the outer corners. White tunics fell to mid-thigh. Naked swords were clipped to their belts. Over their hearts was an orb party per fess azure and vert, a bordure gules.

Lauden Sept, Arthur thought. This will be a good place to find a horse for George.

“Thank you for your greeting,” Arthur said. “I am Arthur. This is my companion, George, who rides under my protection. We seek shelter … and … by the way, where are we?”

One of the elven boys gestured. “Be welcome to Ulan Woods. Where are you from?”

“Well, most recently, a place called Earth … you’ll not likely have heard of that. Before that, I was in Londinium. Before that, Barbicana, and the City of Elvenhold. I’ve sworn allegiance to King Oberon and stand for my companion.”

“It’s a long way to Elvenhold … at least twenty days travel to the Gray Mountains,” one guard said. He glanced to the south and added, “Then more than a tenday through them.”

“We’ve never been to Elvenhold,” the guard who had gestured the truth spell said. “What’s it like?”

“It’s beautiful, like Ulan Woods, but larger. Walls are of white stone; the gates are mithral-clad. The king’s palace is the whitest stone, with crystal windows. Temples are pink stone. Government buildings are blue. Embassies are built in the style of their own country or province. There are bright colors in clothing among the different people: humans and dwarves. Ships sail up and down the river to the sea. Caravans arrive from Carter, Arcadia, and the Rain Forest bringing exotic cloth, spices, wood, some metals, and gems. Caravans leave bearing the same things, only different. It’s been a while since I was there, though.” Arthur spun out his description.

Both George and the two guards were rapt, and Arthur could feel George, who had been holding his breath in wonder, begin breathing again.

“Say,” Arthur said. “Is there an inn?”

Returning his attention to his duties, one of the boys pointed down the road inside the gate. “Crystal Lodge,” he said. “On the right. Welcome again. Um, maybe we’ll see you before you leave?”

“Thank you,” Arthur said, “Perhaps we will.” Arthur nudged the horse, and entered the City of Ulan Woods.

*****

Everything fascinated George: the elven boy who helped them put the horse in the stall, the currycomb Arthur used to groom the animal, how the bridle came off and was hung on the wall, the saddlebags Arthur carried into the inn, the room with one large bed, the public bathing chamber …

“It’s very much like Japan, George. You know about that?” The boy nodded and Arthur continued. “We clean ourselves first in the shower, and then we soak in the hot tub. Clothes go in the small tub, there. I will show you how to clean them. There is a lot for you to learn … did you know that we were not speaking English anymore?” Arthur suddenly realized that crossing from one world to another with a boy from California was a lot more complicated than riding a horse through a gate.

“I don’t know … ” George whispered. “What if someone walks in?”

“It will be all right,” Arthur said, touching the boy’s arm lightly. “Trust me?”

The boy nodded, and began removing his clothes.

“I don’t understand … ” George said. “I had a little pubic hair … not much, but some … ” He raised his arm. “ … and some under my arms … where did it go? What happened?”

“Magic happened, George,” Arthur said.

“Magic?” George asked. “Magic? You said that, before, but I figured you were … being figurative?”

Arthur nodded. “No, not figurative. Magic is really the best word for it, George. I’m sorry if this sounds … well, I don’t know how it sounds … but, yes, there is a power in this world. The best word I know to describe it is magic. It’s the power that brought us here. It’s the power that our healers use.

“I don’t know how the gates do all the things they do, but the same power that taught you to speak the language of this world—at least the one that’s most commonly spoken by humans—adjusted your body, too.”

“You don’t have any hair on your body, either,” George said. “And you’re bigger than me. You’re older, too.”

“I am older; I’m a tween, George,” Arthur said. “And no one has body hair. We have evolved well beyond that. Well, except the Trolls.”

“A tween?” George asked. “Like the boys in Lord of the Rings? Am I a tween?”

“Um, no, George. I’m sure you’re a boy.”

“Huh? You’re a boy, too. At least, it looks like it from here,” George said. He giggled. It was a nervous giggle.

“Oh,” Arthur said. “The same word has two meanings. Don’t look at me that way; I did not decide this. Boy means male and boy means, well, when a male child is around 18 to 20 years old, he becomes a boy. His voice usually drops from soprano to alto, and his testicles descend. Rather, vice-versa. His testicles descend and start producing hormones. He also begins producing seminal fluid, but without sperm. Humans age slowly physically—but not mentally—so this male will look like a 12-to-15-year-old on your world. A boy—a male—usually stays a boy for, oh, 50 to 100 years, although physically he doesn’t change very much.”

“Fifty to a hundred years!” George exclaimed. “And he’s still a boy? How long do people live?”

“Humans…usually several hundred years. Some may live much, much longer,” Arthur said. “When a boy is around 70 to 120 years old, he will grow to become a tween. His voice will deepen to a tenor. This is accompanied by the growth of the largest cartilage in the larynx—what is called the Adam’s apple in your world, but not here. His waist will narrow and his shoulders will get broader.

“Tweens look like they are 18-to-20 in your terms. A boy may stay a tween for scores of years … or more, before he becomes an adult. He may live another two hundred or more years as an adult. So, George, you have a lot to look forward to,” Arthur concluded.

“Do I?” George asked. His voice was flat, without inflection or obvious emotion. “I wasn’t born on this world … will I live that long?”

Arthur hesitated. His eyes got a far-away look. After a moment, he replied, “Actually, yes. Actually. The gate attached this world’s antigeral genes—the ones responsible for longevity—to your DNA.”

“Are you sure?” George demanded.

“Hold still,” Arthur instructed. Once again, he concentrated on something miles away. George jumped when he saw himself outlined in light.

“Oh! What was that?” the boy asked.

“Side effect of magic,” Arthur replied. “I didn’t control the spell well enough. I looked at your DNA—all of it. Yes, I’m sure. The genes are all there. You have the potential to live 500, 600, 700 years. Maybe more.”

Arthur led George into the shower, and pulled the chain, deluging them with warm water. “You just stand there, and let me … ,” he said. Arthur soaped the boy’s hair, adding a little magic to help clean it.

“That tingles,” George said between giggles. “What are you doing?”

“I’m using magic to help clean your hair. It’s something that you will learn.”

After washing his own hair, Arthur pulled the shower chain, again, and began to soap George’s body, using a loofa and magic.

“Um … um … I’m going to get an erection if you keep that up,” George said.

“It looks as though you already have,” Arthur said. “It’s all right, George.”

“But what if someone comes in?” George asked. His face and chest became flushed, and his voice trembled. His breathing quickened.

“Don’t think on it,” Arthur said. “Relax. Breathe. Slowly, slowly.” Arthur wove magic to capture some of the carbon dioxide that George exhaled. Like a paper bag over his mouth, Arthur thought. The visualization helped him hold the spell. George’s breathing slowed to normal.

“I’m sorry,” George said. “It was like … like when Kevin and I got caught. I was afraid—”

Arthur hugged George, and then held the boy at arm’s length and looked into his eyes. “George, I swore to protect you. I was thinking at the time of brigands, of ogres, and of Evil. I am not sure I will always be able to protect you from embarrassment, though.” Arthur smiled.

George’s smile was tentative. “I … I guess that’s okay.”

Arthur quickly cleaned himself, and then led George into the hot soak. The water rose only to Arthur’s chest but reached to George’s neck.

“This feels good,” George said. “I’m sore all over from the ride. Funny, isn’t it? I’ve always wanted to ride a horse; I never knew it would hurt so much!”

“You will become accustomed to it, George. Most riders have to develop new muscles, and strengthen others, but your muscles are pretty well defined. Were you a weight lifter?” Arthur asked.

“I did strength training,” George said. “The past two years, I wrestled. I was at the middle of my weight class, and a lot faster than most of the boys. I won a lot … at first. Then they said I was too old for Junior Varsity. It was a lot harder to win in Varsity, but I did okay.”

Rather than arouse George again by drying the boy with magic, Arthur tossed him a towel, and then dried himself the same way. George wasn’t paying attention when Arthur lifted their clothes from the tub of soapy water, and forced the soap, water, and dirt from them. Arthur handed George his clothes.

“They’re dry?” George said. “And clean! How … ?”

“Magic,” Arthur said. “It is something for you to learn. Later, though. Supper is waiting in the common room.”

George yawned throughout supper. It’s not surprising, Arthur thought. It was late afternoon when we left Earth, and early morning when we reached World. He’s been awake for nearly two days. Immediately after supper, Arthur led George back to their room. After they had brushed their teeth, Arthur pulled back the blankets on the bed, and undressed, draping his clothes over a chest. George, a little nervously, did the same. In the darkness that fell when Arthur snuffed the candle, George’s mind raced. He turned onto his side to face Arthur.

“Arthur, um, did you know that those two boys at the gate wanted to have sex with you and me?” George asked.

“Actually, no, actually. I didn’t know it. I’m not surprised, however. Many humans think elves are exotic; many elves think humans are exotic. Most people think that which is different is exotic. But how did you know?”

“I could sense it … it’s like when I saw your coronel the first time … I don’t know how I know, I’m sure I know, though.”

“What did you see?” Arthur asked.

“Well, this is not really seeing; it’s hearing. Do you know what a marimba is?”

“It’s like a xylophone, with wooden keys, but with resonator tubes hanging below the keys.”

“Exactly,” George said. “It’s more resonant than a xylophone. One of my cousins used to play one. Well, when I looked at those boys I heard two notes that made a beautiful harmony. The sound was so pure, I knew that they were good boys, and wouldn’t hurt me … us. The harmony … um … the harmony made my penis tingle.”

The boy paused, and his voice grew soft. “That’s how I met Kevin. I didn’t realize it until I heard the elven boys. Whenever I saw Kevin, I heard the same notes. I just didn’t know what it meant, then.”

“George, you have a very interesting magical talent,” Arthur said. “Especially since you were able to discover it on your world, using only the very tiny bit of magic that leaks from this world to yours.”

George hesitated, and then asked, “Arthur, do you want to have sex with me?”

“What do you see—or hear?” Arthur equivocated.

“It’s funny … you do and you don’t … I don’t know,” George said. “I hear the same two notes, but they’re … soft … no, not soft, muffled, like you were hiding them.”

“George, I would like to have sex with you. But, your best friend just died … and I am reasonably sure you are still upset about that … and we just swore an oath and I do not want you to think that I asked you to swear that oath just so I could have sex with you … and you are a stranger in a strange land, and I do not want to take advantage of you—”

George answered instantly. His voice was firm; his words were clear. “Arthur, I want to have sex with you so bad my teeth ache and my stomach curls up when I think about it. I’ll mourn Kevin … not because he’s gone, but because he didn’t get a chance to grow up, and because he never met anyone like you. You wouldn’t be taking advantage of me. I knew the second I saw you that I wanted you … and then I found out that you were a prince … or a prince-consort … and I thought I could never have you. You said that I was old enough to know my mind, and my mind says I want you.” He reached for Arthur, and found Arthur’s arms already moving toward him.

“Slowly, George,” Arthur whispered. “We have all the time in World.”

The next morning, George woke Arthur with a kiss. “Thank you, Arthur. Thank you for bringing me here, and thank you for … for … last night.” The boy’s face and speech became more animated. “What will we do today? If I’m going to be your squire, I must learn how to tend your horse … what’s his name, anyway? And I have to learn how to use a sword … and … and—”

Arthur silenced the boy with a finger to his lips. “Thank you for last night, George. Now, for today, all in good time. We will breakfast, and then tend Aurorus. ‘Aurora’ is the Old Elvish word for light. Then we will start looking for a horse for you … and some clothes. A sword will come later.”

“Aurora? Like aurora borealis? And like Aurora, the goddess of the dawn?” George asked.

“That is correct,” Arthur replied.

“But that’s Latin,” George said. “One of the aunts and uncles were Catholic, and I went to Catholic school for two years,” he explained. “I had to learn Latin.”

“A lot of words in Old Elvish, and some of the modern Elvish language, may be familiar to you, then,” Arthur said.

“But … I don’t understand,” George said.

“I am not sure I do, either,” Arthur replied. “But I suspect that that enough people have passed through the gates to create the commonality of language.”

In the common room of the inn, the publican who had welcomed them the previous evening and the boy who had helped them stable Aurorus were not present. An elven woman presided over the common room. An elven girl wearing a smock decorated with ribbons and embroidery came through the door of the kitchen, carrying a tray with several large bowls. After the girl arranged the bowls on the bar, the woman invited Arthur and George to help themselves.

“Thank you kindly, Mistress,” Arthur said, handing a trencher to George. “Good, the porridge is hot. Try some of it, George, and perhaps put some of the apples on top.”

The boys took their trenchers and mugs of tea to a table. George copied Arthur and stirred the stewed apples into the hot cereal.

“Porridge? It’s oatmeal, isn’t it?” George asked.

“Yes,” Arthur said. “Oats ground and boiled in milk by the taste. The apples came from last fall’s harvest. They were dried for winter storage, and then cooked in water to make them soft again. It smells like there’s some cinnamon, too.”

“Oh, yeah,” George said, “that’s what I smelled when we came through the gate! I didn’t remember it until now. Do the gates always smell like cinnamon?”

“So far, they do,” Arthur replied.

As they walked out the front door of the inn, George reached into his belt pouch. Had he been wearing school clothes, he would have patted his pockets. “Oh, no!” George exclaimed. “I’ve lost my ID card. And the house key! Aunt Grace will have a fit when she … oh, she’ll not find out, will she?”

“What is missing?” Arthur asked.

“The stuff in my belt pouch is gone … state ID card, student bus pass, and the key ring with the house key. They’re gone. They must have fallen out … but my handkerchief is here.”

“Did you have any money?”

“No, I spent the last I had on lunch.”

“The ID cards, were they plastic?” Arthur asked. He used the word meaning pliable or flexible.

“Umm, the school ID was. The state ID card was laminated, and the library card and bus pass were plastic.”

“It is the effects of magic, again,” Arthur said. “You see, certain things do not belong in World. The house key was probably too complex … most keys here are like the old skeleton keys of your world. Magic does not allow technology to enter World, I think.

“Your costume must have been authentic, since all of it came through. It incorporated no artificial fabrics or disallowed fasteners. I had not paid attention before.”

“Yeah,” George said, thoughtfully. “I wanted it to be real. I made it all, myself. Kevin’s mother made …” The boy became silent.

*****

The dampness of the morning air had burned away. Arthur led George from the inn to explore the town. “Today, we will get some clothes for you,” Arthur said. “And, we will ask about horse farms. There are probably several close to town.”

They found clothes for George—real clothes. He tossed his faire costume in the rubbish bin and came to supper wearing an outfit similar to Arthur’s. George had selected light green tights and a darker green tunic. A wide, leather belt with a black steel buckle, and brown boots completed the outfit.

After supper, George folded his clothes carefully, and put them on a chest with the second set and the hooded travel cloak. Cool spring air came through the shutters, but the bed was warm. So was Arthur.

“Arthur?” George asked. “There’s more to sex than just sex. I mean, it’s different, here … it feels different … I don’t know how to say it, but I … sort of … feel … you? And something else…

“It’s magic, isn’t it?”

“Um hmm,” Arthur said, “It is magic.”

George poked Arthur. “Don’t just say ‘it’s magic’ and fall asleep!”

Arthur sat up and pulled the covers around George and himself. “Sex is magic. In fact, what we just did? It is called ‘sharing boy magic.’

“This world and everything in it—almost everything—is full of magic. It’s like … do you know about lines of force from the earth’s magnetic field?”

When George nodded, Arthur continued. “Magic is a field, like the earth’s magnetic field; but it is a different kind of energy. On Earth, when you move a conductor, like a copper wire, through a magnetic field, electricity is created. Do you know about that? Good. Your body captures boy magic when it moves through the magic field. However, you cannot use it yourself. You can give the magic to another boy or tween … and he can give you his. When you get someone else’s boy magic, you can use it. I used magic to clean you at the bath, and to clean our clothes. There are other things you can do, as well … it’s not all about cleaning up.”

“Is the magic energy the reason sex is so much better than it was on Earth?” George asked.

“Actually, that’s a big part of it, actually,” Arthur said. And if Kevin were your only partner, which I gather was the case, you probably were like most youngsters—get it quick. It’s remarkable what a little foreplay and delayed gratification can do to improve it.

George slept little that night. The thought, “sex is magic,” kept running through his head. That, more than anything—even seeing elves—forced him to acknowledge that he was in a new and strange world, and that he’d never see his own world again. And Kevin, he thought. I’ll never see Kevin, again. Dawn was lighting the sky when, exhausted, he finally fell asleep.

“Come on, George,” Arthur said. He shook the boy’s shoulder. “Time to get up. Neither breakfast nor Aurorus will wait.”

George sat up. He was groggy with fatigue. His eyes were gummy with tears. Arthur stood by the bed. He’s so beautiful, George thought. He’s beautiful and he’s strong and he’s a knight … George threw his arms around Arthur’s waist and put his head against the older boy’s chest. “Oh, Arthur, I’m so afraid. Please don’t leave me.”

Arthur sat on the bed next to George and held the boy tightly.

“George, what are you afraid of? Did you have a bad dream? Why do you think I would leave you?” Arthur asked.

“I’m sorry,” George gasped. “Last night … it just hit me … I’m really here … it’s all different … you’re the only person I know … I didn’t sleep … I couldn’t sleep … and when I saw you … when you woke me up … you’re so beautiful and strong … you’re a knight … why would you like me … why would you like me?” The boy’s voice trailed off into silent tears.

“George, look at me,” Arthur said. When the boy lifted his eyes, Arthur continued. “I swore to accept you. To teach you. To protect you. To provide for you. And, to cherish you … to cherish you, George. Do you remember the oath? I meant it. I meant it with all my heart. I will not leave you. Do you believe that?”

George nodded, afraid to speak.

“Do you, really?” Arthur asked.

“Oh, yes,” George said. He hugged Arthur tightly.

*****

George was groggy until breakfast and youthful energy overcame low blood sugar and the lack of sleep. Throughout the day, Arthur was careful to keep the boy close. He sat next to George at breakfast, rather than across the table. He took George’s hand, and showed him how to use the currycomb. He held the boy more tightly than necessary as they rode into the countryside. He kept his arm around George’s shoulder, or held his hand when they walked from paddock to paddock, inspecting horses.

They had ridden to three different farms, and George was sore. However, he was also a little more comfortable about being naked in the public bath, and anxious to get in the hot soak. A pair of tweens left a few minutes after they arrived; George and Arthur were alone.

“Arthur, I know what you did, today. You held me, a lot. You held my hand. You kept me close. I’m sorry I was such a baby this morning. I feel a lot better, now. Thank you.”

Arthur pulled George through the water until the boy was seated on Arthur’s knees, facing him. “George, you are not a baby. You are not a child. You are a boy who was traumatized and then uprooted from his home—from his whole world. I should have realized. Thousand-year-old cedars? A sun of a different color? Elves? Magic? It was sensory overload, George. I should have known better. I should have gone more slowly—”

George’s lips silenced the rest of Arthur’s sentence. The kiss lasted several minutes. Afterwards, the boy said, “It’s okay, Arthur. Really. It’s okay. Thank you for bringing me here. I’ll get used to it. And … and, I really like it when you hold me.”

They woke the next morning to gray light and rain. Arthur opened the shutters and looked at the sky. “Those are warm front clouds,” he said. “It will rain all morning and probably into the afternoon. Even if it stops, it will not be a good day to tramp around horse farms.”

He closed the shutters and turned around. “George, you need to know a lot about this world and the people—and creatures—that inhabit it. Today is a school day.”

George pouted, and then grinned. “Do we get recess?” he asked.

The morning passed quickly. Arthur sketched maps of Elvenhold, of Arcadia to the south, of Carter, an eastern province of Arcadia that bordered Elvenhold. He told George of the dwarves whose kingdoms lay under the mountains, of the lizard men who lived in swamps, and of the trolls who lived in the mountains. The sky cleared after lunch, and they spent the afternoon strolling through the town, while Arthur described customs and explained things that they saw in the shops.

That night, George lay cuddled in Arthur’s embrace. He was warm and full of boy magic. “Arthur?” he said.

“Hmm?”

“You told me that everyone was okay with you and the prince being lovers; so I figured that being gay was okay—still, I thought I’d be a minority. But, are all the boys on this world gay?” George asked.

“Now, why would you ask that?” Arthur said.

“Well, the guards at the gate, the boy at the horse farm yesterday, and the teens … tweens we met at the shop this afternoon … they all wanted to have sex with us … you … me … I’m not sure. The boy who cleans the stable at the inn and feeds the horses … he looks at you … and I hear that sound … it’s like everyone ...” George paused. He had a puzzled look on his face. “Or does the sound not mean what I think it means?”

“Yes, the sound probably means exactly what you think,” Arthur said. “Every boy and every tween is gay … and if you want to use another word from your world, they … we … we’re all promiscuous, too. Remember that sex is the way you get boy magic, and you are already starting to see how important—how necessary—that is. Besides, it’s a lot of fun.”

“What about sexually-transmitted-diseases … STDs … AIDS and stuff … and—” George said.

“Those are very rare here,” Arthur replied. “And we know how to cure them.”

There was a long silence before George asked, “Have you ever shared with an elf?”

“Yes, actually,” Arthur replied. “An elf was the first person in this world I shared with. He was a sweet boy, who was almost five hundred years old … elves age physically so much slower than humans, normally—”

“What was it like?” George asked.

“What? Are you tired of me already?” Arthur replied.

“No!” George snuggled closer and tightened his grip on Arthur’s hands. “I just wondered. And I keep thinking about the guys … tweens … at the gate who wanted so badly to have sex with us …”

“If we see them again, perhaps you would like to invite them to share,” Arthur said.

The next day brought more fruitless visits to horse farms. “I’m sorry to be so much trouble,” George said after they left the third farm. He had mounted Aurorus and was waiting for Arthur to get on behind him.

Arthur looked at the boy. “George, you’re not trouble …” he began.

“But don’t you have other things to do?” George asked.

Arthur cocked his head in thought for a moment before replying. “Today, and at this moment, there is only one thing I have to do, and that is to take care of you. Presently, that means finding you a suitable horse. At some point, I may need to do other things, but you will always be first.” And damn destiny if it says otherwise, he thought.

George was very quiet on the ride back to Ulan Woods.

*****

Arthur and George were having an early supper at the Crystal when the two tweens they had met at the gate came into the common room. Politely, they caught Arthur’s eye, and nodded, but did not walk toward the table until Arthur stood and gestured to the empty chairs. Arthur greeted them, “Please, will you join us for supper? We’ve just begun.”

“Thank you,” the copper-haired boy with ivory skin said. “My mother’s name for me is Adrian; my companion is Worthen. We hoped that you’d still be here. I remember your names … Arthur and George. Is that right?”

Arthur nodded, and gestured to the serving boy, who brought two more plates and another basket of bread. “Will you have ale?” the boy asked.

“No … just water, thank you,” Worthen said. His skin was golden brown, as if from the sun. “We did not have lunch, today. If we had ale just now we’d likely fall asleep—or become very silly.”

During the meal, Arthur described to Adrian and Worthen the difficulty they had encountered finding a suitable horse for George. “None of them was quite what we were looking for. We heard that there is another horse farm on the western road. We will try there, tomorrow.”

“We’re not on duty tomorrow,” Adrian said. “Would you like us to ride with you? I know where that farm is, and I know another just south of it, if you can’t find anything at the first one.”

After they finished eating, Worthen, the boy with the silver hair, pulled a small chess set from his belt pouch and asked George if he’d like to play. While the pair bent over the board, Arthur and Adrian discussed—and argued—the merits of various horses.

“Queen takes bishop,” George said, “Checkmate.”

“Bishop? What’s bishop?” Worthen asked.

“Senior,” Arthur answered. “It’s what they call the senior where he is from.” He continued, “Would you two share with George and me?”

Worthen looked at Adrian, who nodded. Worthen replied, “It would be a lot better than getting beaten again!”

*****

The wind of heaven is that which blows between a horse’s ears.
—Earth-analogue Arab aphorism

They found a horse for George the next morning. She was a four-year old filly, brown with white stockings on both nigh legs. She was shod in mithral, had been trained to the saddle, and was quite sturdy, unlike some of the more finely bred horses they’d seen earlier. It was clear, however, that she was an elven steed: the intelligence in her eyes marked her.

Arthur dickered with the breeder to include a saddle, saddlebags, blanket, and bridle, and was pleased to get the horse for 35 guineas, which he counted out in gold. “Her name is Aeolia,” the breeder said.

George was a little nervous the first time he mounted Aeolia, but remembered the things Arthur had showed him. Soon, with encouragement from Arthur as well as from Adrian and Worthen, the boy was riding with confidence, if not a great deal of grace.

*****

“George, you were very quiet all afternoon,” Arthur said. The boys had brushed their teeth, and were preparing for bed. “And you hardly said a word during our bath or at supper. What’s wrong?”

“Um … nothing,” the boy replied, softly.

“Something, I think,” Arthur said firmly.

“Is Aeolia really mine?” George asked. His voice was barely audible.

“Of course—” Arthur began. He stopped speaking, and then continued. “Oh. You never had much of your own, did you?”

The boy shook his head. “After my parents died, and I went to live with the first aunt and uncle … they sold the house. They sold everything in it. I took some clothes … in trash bags … I couldn’t take my books … toys … I was just eight … they sold everything. I took a picture of my parents, but it got lost in one of the moves. After that … it seemed normal to move from one house to another in trash bags. Like I was trash—”

George found that he could not speak. His face was pressed to Arthur’s chest. Arthur’s arms held him tightly and stroked his hair. “Shh, George, shh” Arthur said, over and over. The deep sobs that shook the boy’s body slowly subsided.

*****

The next morning, George again woke Arthur with a kiss. “Thank you for last night,” George whispered into Arthur’s ear. “Thank you for holding me, and thank you for Aeolia.”

Arthur hugged George and returned the kiss. “You’re welcome, George. Thank you for telling me what must have been very hard for you to say. Thank you for your trust; it is a great gift.”

After breakfast, while the boys were tending their horses, Arthur broached a new subject.

“George, everyone in this world has a dagger … every boy, anyway. It would be easy to buy you one … but a boy’s first dagger always means something special. It may be given in a rite of passage; it may be given by a friend in ritual where a boy and a tween become companions; it may be given by a blood relation—an older brother to a younger brother, or a father to a son.

“The rite of passage may involve the first sharing of boy magic, something you did before we met. The only other ritual that would be appropriate would be a bonding rite. But it is too soon for that. You need more time to understand what and where you are before making such a commitment.

“What I propose to do is to buy a dagger—you may select it—and give it to you with a kiss and the hope that someday you will receive a dagger with full ritual. That is a long story, but it is part of what you need to know about this world. You’ve missed so much, on your world and on this one … I hate for you to miss this, too.”

“Thank you, Arthur,” George hugged the tween, “I love you so much because you want so much for me.” The boy did not see the troubled look in Arthur’s eyes.

Arthur took George riding that morning. He showed George how to signal Aeolia to walk, trot, and canter. “And gallop?” George asked? His smile was broad.

“Perhaps this afternoon,” Arthur said. “You and Aeolia must know how to gallop together.

“Look, a copse. We’ll let the horses graze a bit while we have our lunch; then, look for a stream to water them.”

George shielded his eyes from the overhead sun, and squinted at the stand of trees Arthur had indicated. “There’s a stream, I think. At least a spring,” he said.

George was right, and the boys filled their water skins from the spring before allowing the horses to drink. “Not too much, just now,” Arthur instructed, gently pulling Aurorus away from the spring. “Lead Aeolia away, but tell her she can have more, later.”

“Come on, girl,” George said, tugging on the reins. “Time for lunch. You can drink more after that, okay?

“She doesn’t really understand me, does she?” George asked. After the talk about magic, he wasn’t entirely sure.

“Elven horses understand a great deal more than most people, including the elves, acknowledge,” Arthur said. “At the very least, she understands the tone of your voice.

“Aurorus has been trained as a destrier—a warhorse. Aeolia has not. Yet. An important part of her training will be for her to understand voice commands, as well as more subtle commands including the shifting of your weight in the saddle.”

War horse…destrier. Arthur warned me of the danger. I guess I knew, then he wasn’t kidding … Aeolia whickered. George returned his attention to the real world and saw her eyes fixed on Aurorus, who was cropping grass at the edge of the copse. “Can I just let her go? She won’t run away?” the boy asked Arthur.

“She will not run as long as Aurorus doesn’t, and he will never leave me,” Arthur said. He saw George’s eyebrows raise. “We've been together for nearly 55 years. Yes, horses have the antigeral genes, too. Dogs, as well. Cats, too. Not all other animals, though.”

Lunch was cheese, bread, and strawberries, but George scarcely knew what he ate. His attention stayed on the horses. Aeolia seemed to follow Aurorus, staying near him as he moved from one clump of grass to another. Arthur saw where George’s attention was.

“We’ll need to be careful when Aeolia comes into season; she’ll be very attractive to Aurorus, but we cannot allow her to become pregnant. It would tie us down to one place for too long.”

Arthur looked at George. “We must leave Ulan Woods, tomorrow.”

George stopped chewing. He stared at Arthur. “We must?” he asked. “Must?”

Arthur did not respond immediately, so George continued. “You warned me, but …

“Why? What’s happened?” the boy continued.

“Something approaches from the south,” Arthur replied. “Something I do not wish to encounter.”

George pressed Arthur for information, but the older boy would not—or could not—say more.

*****

Worthen and Adrian left early the next morning. “We have to be on the eastern gate at dawn,” Worthen reminded George and Arthur. “We had a wonderful time with you both. May the Light be with you.” He kissed Arthur and then George, after which Adrian kissed them both and wished them well.

After they had left, George said, “They were nice, weren’t they? I knew they would be … I could hear it.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed sharing with them,” Arthur said. “I think they enjoyed sharing with us, as well. I am also glad you are able to see who is nice and who is not … at least it seems that way. You will need to be careful until we are sure of your talent.”

“Well, I know you’re nice, and I’m too awake to go back to sleep,” George said, stretching. “It’s too early for breakfast. Would you share with me?”

“Yes, George. I would like that very much,” Arthur replied, and moved from the bed where he’d slept with Adrian to the trundle George had shared with Worthen.

After a quick breakfast, Arthur and George rode out the western gate of Ulan Woods. The morning sun cast long shadows before them. The boys rode in silence for a while, but then George asked, “When are you going to tell me about your coronel and escutcheon, and the prince?”

“Well,” Arthur said, “now is a good time. But you must promise never to tell anyone unless I say it is okay to do so.”

“I promise,” the boy said, and Arthur began the story.

“We have to start with Light and Dark. There is a forever fight between Light and Dark. It is really a fight between people who serve the Light and those who serve the Dark. You do understand, don’t you, that Light means that which is Good, and Dark means that which is Evil?”

George nodded, and Arthur continued, “In some times and places, Light will rule. Most people go through their lives without much excitement. There is not much challenge, either. People do enjoy life with games and music and festivals and fairs. But, not many things are, well, difficult or challenging.

“Sometimes and in some places, Darkness will rule. Things are bad, then. Wickedness prospers. People who can manipulate other people, people who can dominate other people: they are the ones who rule. Most people live in a constant state of fear: fear that slavers may raid their village and steal children; fear that brigands will raid their farm, stealing and burning and killing; fear simply that they will be cheated at trade or taxes.

“Sometimes, Light and Dark struggle for dominance. Good things happen, but so do bad ones. It is a very uncertain time. Even when Darkness controls there are rules. There is cause and effect. When Light and Dark are fighting … well, there’s more uncertainty. It is harder to know who or what you can trust.

“People who serve the Light and that which is Good have ruled Elvenhold and Arcadia for at least 5,000 years, maybe more. It seems that is too long. Evil is trying to gain a foothold in these countries, and Light is fighting back. That makes things pretty chaotic and dangerous, especially for us. And, it’s going to get worse.”

When Arthur paused, George asked, “So … like … is God behind Good and … the Devil behind stuff that’s Evil?”

“No, George,” Arthur said. “Good and Evil aren’t mysterious forces or supernatural creatures. They are simply people … people who chose to live one way or the other. He looked at George. The boy nodded.

“Some time, some years ago,” Arthur continued, “a child was born in the Duchy of Carter. This child’s destiny was to become a mage and healer who would serve the Light. To prevent him from becoming a servant of the Light, an Evil mage stole the child and sent him to another world—your world—where he grew up in orphanages, studied chemistry and physics, joined the army and learned something about warfare. About 60 years ago in this world’s time, a gate opened between the worlds and this child, who was then 35 Earth years old, came back home.

“Except that it wasn’t the Duchy of Carter, but somewhere in Elvenhold, and he wasn’t 35 years old anymore. He was a teenager—a tween—and he was hurt, badly. The door had dropped him onto the rocks on a riverbank. Several bones were broken; he had internal injuries; and he had a severe concussion.

“He was found by Prince Aladil, son of King Oberon of the Elves.

“The prince, who was studying healing, decided that he would heal the human boy that he found by the river. His father did not know about it and would not have allowed it. Furthermore, the prince’s older brother had died only a few years before … and that is not long for an elf. The prince missed his brother very much. The injured boy’s ash blonde hair and hazel eyes reminded the prince of his brother. The prince was distracted, and distracted is the wrong thing to be when healing … or using magic for any purpose.

“The prince drew on the great magic, and channeled the magic through his own body, using the pattern of his bones and organs to direct the magic to heal. This is something only the most experienced mage or healer will ever try. The prince lost control. A high-energy river of magic flowed through the prince’s body and into the tween. It was enough to blast them both to oblivion in a very few seconds. The magic did heal the boy. In an instant. The boy, whose mind was 35 years old and who had studied physics and had been a soldier, saw that the energy was going to kill the prince. He believed he should try to save this boy’s life. Somehow, the tween diverted the magic, shunting it away from the prince and himself, and then stopping it.

“Several things happened. First, before the tween was able to divert the magic from the prince, the magic copied more than just the patterns of bones and organs; it copied a lot of what the five-hundred-year-old prince knew—language, geography, history, politics, anatomy, and more—and imprinted it on the tween’s brain. It was an instant education—things he had not learned because he did not grow up on this world—and more, perhaps. Second, the tween saw the magic and related it to the physics that he had studied …

“Do you know Maxwell’s equations?” Arthur asked.

George shook his head, and Arthur continued. “We’ll have to work on that, later. In any case, the human boy did. In those few seconds, he discovered a great deal about the nature of magic and how to control it. Things that no one else on World seems to know.

“The prince was knocked unconscious by these events. Although the boy’s concussion had been healed, he, too, was unconscious.

“The prince’s companions carried the two boys back to the palace, where they were met by the king and every mage in the court. You see, the magic that the prince had summoned was so noisy that every mage in the palace had heard it.

“The prince woke first. His father and the elven mages quickly learned from him what had happened. They decided that the tween was a hero who had saved the life of the prince at the risk of his own. They were also quite embarrassed that the prince had nearly killed the boy.

“When the boy woke and was told that he was a hero, he protested, but they wouldn’t listen to him. You saved the life of the future king of Elvenhold, they said. We owe you the life of this kingdom. He told them, I didn’t know what I was doing … but they said he was a hero, nonetheless.

“They apologized for what the magic had done to him. It had healed him, yes, but by copying bones and organs from the prince, the magic had also altered him at the life level—that is how they refer to the genetic level or the DNA.”

Arthur looked at George, who nodded his understanding.

Arthur continued. “The king declared that this tween must have a sept and a liege so that he would know his place in this world—all of those things being very important, especially to elves. So, the boy was adopted into the Firespear Sept—the ruling family of elves. Their symbol is the flaming spear you saw on my escutcheon. The magic had created a great bond between the boy and the prince. He became the prince’s sworn companion and lover, and was named Prince-Consort. This is why he wore the coronel and royal escutcheon whose images you saw. He was made a knight, too, which is why he wears the spurs of an elven knight, even though they, too, are hidden by magic.

“But he discovered that he could not live in the palace, because his presence drew danger to the prince. Even though he shared boy magic with Prince Aladil, the tween’s resemblance to the boy-prince’s dead brother was not what the prince had really wanted, even though he thought he did. The tween realized that he was not only hurting but also drawing danger to the boy he thought he loved. With the blessing of the king, he renounced the title of prince-consort, kissed Prince Aladil goodbye, and left the palace and the city.”

George was silent for a long time. When they stopped at a stream to water the horses, Arthur hugged George to him. “Still want to be my squire?”

George nodded, and smiled. “Yes, my prince.”

*****

More than a thousand miles to the south and in a darkened room, a figure stared into a mirror. He was not looking at his reflection, but at something else. Seven days before he had heard a gate open, and then close. The sound was familiar; the harmony was new. Yesterday, his master had sent a human boy with a package that contained the mirror. The figure took another bite of the boy’s liver and continued to stare into the mirror. Yes, that’s the tool; that’s the one to use.