Once out of sight of the citadel, their course changed until they reached the circle of hills that Lord Paul had indicated. In their midst lay a gentle, green vale in which a spring bubbled forth to form a rill, gaily burbling over rocks and a miniature waterfall. It seemed an idyllic and peaceful place, far removed from strife and war. Only the thunder of Sir Jamie's bombard, which had just launched its hourly cannon ball against the gate of the distant citadel, echoed dimly.

Both riders drew up their mounts and alit onto the grassy lea. Ainea looked around questioningly, she saw nothing that would indicate that there was an entrance to a secret passage.

The inquisitive look in Ainea's eyes made Paul grin. Their trip so far had been more or less without conversation, for both were inwardly focused in preparation for an extremely dangerous endeavor. But her expression was so intriguing that Paul had all he could do to keep from hugging her and kissing her, or laughing outright. She looked for all the world like a child who has had a favorite candy dangled just out of reach.

"Now ye shall see why I insisted that we must travel alone, my Lady. It is for protection of thy reputation, as ye shall see." He said no more on the matter for the moment, and Ainea stared at him with a bemused expression. She continued to look curious as the two of them unsaddled their horses and turned them out into the lush green grass of the little vale. Then Paul began to unload the pack horse. After it was turned out with the other two, he started sorting the contents of the large pack.

First he pulled out a smaller pack, one that he could carry on his back. Into that he loaded their food and water for the next several days, along with some simple essentials like soap and a skillet, a flint, and a small packet of dry tinder. In addition he packed in a little wooden box that made Ainea very curious as to its contents. To her inquiry, Paul simply responded "Ye shall see." That packed and closed, he then took up a large sail-cloth bag that had been treated with gypsum to make it waterproof. The pack went into this, and then he stood. Looking from the corners of his eyes at Ainea, he spoke quietly.

"Now, my Lady, we must undress, unless ye fancy wearing wet clothing in a cold, damp place." With that he began to shed his own attire, down to his undertrews. At first Ainea looked at him doubtfully, but as he divested himself of more and more of his clothes her face pinked and she turned her back. Once her bodice was unlaced and she had slipped out of it, she began on the dress proper. Reaching up her back for the laces of her dress, she found that she was not able to sort the ends. Paul noticed and grinned. Stepping closer he tugged the ties and the laces fell open. Ainea looked over her shoulder to thank him, and promptly turned quite pink. He was as close to naked as one remaining garment would allow. With another grin, he motioned her to continue and began to fold his own clothing and stuff it into the waterproof bag. Also in the bag went his sword and baldrick, along with the sgian dubh he had taken to wearing. Then he packed the sword and baldrick that Ainea thrust toward him.

At last he reached upward without looking and waited for Ainea to put her clothing into his hands. Night was falling quickly now, and he offered one word of encouragement. "Hurry." As soon as he had her clothing, he shoved it into the bag and pulled the ties tightly closed. As long as he kept the tied end downward, a little air inside the bag would keep out the water. Standing, he reached back and waited for Ainea to put her hand in his.

Then he stepped off and began to wade out into the small pool at the bottom of the little waterfall. ""Take a breath." Suddenly, he dropped straight down and the motion pulled Ainea under with him. Strong strokes of his legs took them a bit sideways, and their heads emerged into stale but breathable air. It was pitch black, but Paul seemed to know what he was doing. He let go of Ainea and took a couple of swimming strokes. Behind he could hear Ainea following, though perhaps somewhat tentatively. His feet struck the sandy bottom, and he waded out.

Immediately he sat on the dry sand and unlaced the waterproof bag. Pulling out the little wooden box, he opened it. From within shown a nearly blinding white light. It illuminated a small beach, a tunnel hewn in solid rock, and a man who looked even more closely naked. Before him, standing in the shallows, was Ainea. Her wet shift clung to her, quite revealingly.

As she emerged from the water, clad only in her shift, she did not shrink to cover herself protectively in the manner of most females. Such was not the way of this child of nature. Her stance was proud, and her fiery locks, darkened by the water, enveloped her like a shimmering cloak. Calmly she accepted her outer garments as Paul withdrew them from his bag, and donned her riding gown, securing it with the lacing of the bodice. The warmth of her body would soon dry the damp shift she wore below.

Taking up her sword, she slung the baldric over one shoulder, and turned to Lord Paul.

"Where to now, my love?"

Proud before him, Paul could not quite believe his good fortune. Ainea was a beautiful woman in all her attributes. She would have made a marvelous model for any of the artisans who produced statues or carven wooden likenesses. However, he was intensely conscious of his own apparent nakedness, and so he stooped quickly to open the bag. From then on he kept his eyes downcast as he worked to free their weapons and clothing.

As soon as he had Ainea's out of the bag, Paul handed them up to her, but did not raise his eyes. It was not that he feared to look at her, or thought he would shame her, for that was not her way or his. But something within him said that he should not see her thus as yet, and he did not want to react with desire. As soon as she took her clothing from him and turned to begin dressing, Paul did the same, facing away, giving her the privacy she needed to divest herself of her sodden shift and wring out as much of the moisture as she could. He did likewise with his undertrews and then rapidly reassumed his clothing.

"Where to now, my love?"

Her question told him when she was finished, and then he turned back. It was with something of a shock that he found himself now realizing fully exactly what of her filled every nuance of her riding habit. That was at first disconcerting, and yet pleasing. He studied the feeling for an instant and decided to keep the thoughts in mind, but to be silent about them.

The inquiry was superfluous, intended to encourage him to continue their journey. From the pond there was only one way to go and that was inward through the single passage before them. Taking up the little box, he used the magical luminescence of the large pearl that lay cradled within on soft black velvet to illuminate their way. This useful little instrument had been a parting gift from Lady Sarah. The Lady Dragon had informed him that he would have need of it, and that he would understand when that might be so. The thought of traversing the King's Escape brought it to mind, and he had decided to bring it along. However, she had warned him that it had a definite duration of usefulness. One day ... that was all. From the time he first opened the box, it would shine for a total of twenty four hours. However, closing the box would conserve it.

"Onward, my Lady, onward." His smile belied the trepidation of his thoughts. For Paul was recalling the old stories, the lay of the trials of the one King who ever had traversed its perils. While they went in reverse, the first of the aspects with which they would have to come was the log room.

They had not gone far down the tunnel when they came to what was intended to be its exit. Standing in the opening, they looked into a large chamber that was oddly shaped. It resembled a trench with sharply rising walls and a rounded bottom. On one side and up near the ceiling was an inset. A similar inset, but lower, existed on the other side. In the curved floor of the chamber there were several narrow, shallow depressions. These were scattered across the area in a seemingly random pattern. But there was nothing random about them. They were traps.

Paul stood for a long moment, studying the layout. He was thinking in his mind of the description, and trying to find the specific three that they would need in order to cross the room alive. At last he raised his arm and pointed to the closest, then the next, and finally the third.

"We must go one by one. I will go first. Watch me intently. Then do exactly as I have done, if I make the crossing successfully. If not, go back out as we came. There will be no reason to continue if I fail, and I release thee of all bonds, to do as ye wish."

With these words, he drew her close, kissed her longingly, and then stepped cautiously outward. He was about half way to the first depression when the first huge log suddenly released from the upper recess and began to roll down the steep wall toward him. It was at least four feet in diameter and it bore down upon him with the speed of a horse at full gallop, gathering still more speed as it came.

As she looked around the oddly shaped chamber she involuntarily shivered. The cause was not the dampness of the shift under her clothes, but the feeling of unseen danger that clung to the cold and smooth walls of the irregular chamber.

She watched with trepidation as Paul dashed into the steeply sloping way. Only half way to the first place of safety he had pointed out, an ominous noise drew her attention to the upper part of the chamber, where a huge log, that filled the entire width of the room, thundered towards the unprotected man. The scream that formed on her lips never was voiced, for fear of distracting the endangered figure, and she breathed a sigh of relief, when he made it into the recess barely inches before the beam rolled by.

Yet Paul did not rest there, and Ainea soon saw the reason, as the bottom of the shelter rose up to make it unsuitable for further protection. Paul was already wildly dashing for the next point of safety, as another log bore down on him. He threw himself headlong into the shelter barely ahead of the murderous missile.

Ainea audibly let out the breath she had held.

Paul flung himself headlong into the second trench. He was so concentrated on what he was doing that he did not take time to look back at Ainea. Thus he did not see the look of terror in her eyes as she watched him. He would have been hard pressed to understand whether that expression was from concern for him or for her own ability to perform the complicated dance with death that now engrossed him.

The second roaring log whizzed by over top of him and he was up and running for the third trench even as it continued to roll. Each of them passed completely over the floor, and then inertia took over and carried the logs up the far wall to fall outward into the lower of the two recesses. As a trap, this was murderous. It brooked no mistake, no room for error.

Counting silently to himself even as he ran, Paul could sense that he was near to missing getting to the third trench. The bang of the second log dropping into the outgoing recess seemingly caused the release of the third. It rattled and roared as it came to the lip of the higher recess and began to drop down the wall. Paul dashed across to the third trench and fell gratefully into it a mere second before the third log reached him.

A person might have thought that he now was safe. However, that would have been wrong, as the ensuing moments proved. Up for the final time, running as hard as he could, he reached the nitch of the intended entry to the room only a few seconds before the sweep of the end of the fourth log would have caught him. Spinning, he watched as a fifth log came right behind the fourth. He had been correct. He had only been allowed the three intervals. Even if he had been able to reach and survive in a fourth trench, during the passage of the fifth one all the trenches were leveled. There would have been no way to avoid it.

Spinning around Paul immediately yelled to Ainea as the fifth log fell away into the lower recess. "Step back! Now!" He did likewise. A heavy stone grated along sideways, closing the portal through which he just had come. Even as it slammed closed he could see that Ainea had retreated just in time. They could hear the roar of water entering the chamber as it both cleansed itself and reset. The five logs banged and bumped as they floated out of the lower recess and were carried upward by the rising water to lodge once more in the upper one. The reason for the odd shape of the room now was apparent, for it was such that they were guided to do this without intervention of any man's hand. Even if a person had managed to avoid all five logs and survive their deadly charges, they would have drowned or been destroyed by the far more violent and unpredictable movement that ensued in the water.

With a grim expression, he waited while the process completed. Water spurted from the edges of the door, but fell to the floor of the passage and ran into a gutter that carried it away down a leg-sized hole and left him entirely dry and untouched. It was a grim victory, however. Now it was Ainea's turn to navigate the peril of the chamber, and he had no means to aid her. Either she could do it, or she would die in the attempt.

As soon as the sound of rushing water ceased, the doors shuddered open once more. Paul could see her return tentatively to the edge of the entry once more. She looked across at him, and the distant expression on her face seemed now to be one of fierce resolution. She did have a small advantage. She carried nothing but the Sword of Nuada, so her burden was less. But could a woman run as needed to reach the protective trenches? Or would her skirts impede her? Raising his voice, he called out to her.

"My Love, the first log is triggered as ye come about half way to the first trench. Each successive one comes automatically at a prescribed interval, as ye have seen. As the Scots would have it, kilt up thy skirts and then run like a deer. Ye understand now that ye can not stop once the process stops. And do not think to turn back. I have no idea what will happen if ye do, but I suspect that the room can sense such a tactic and foil it. Now, take thy time to begin, but when ye do, may God give thy feet wings and thy lungs breath to succeed. And remember that I love thee above all else. That love must be the source of thy strength."

Falling silent, he waited while she sized up her chances of duplicating his success. What would happen if he entered the room to try to assist her in the last leg of the passage? Even as he thought of it, the door stone against which his hand rested trembled slightly. He took meaning from that. If he also stepped into the room, it would close, sealing both of them to their deadly fate.

Without realizing it Ainea had sunk to her knees and clutched Nuada's sword in a tight grip. Only when Paul reached safety, did the pain in her hands register to her brain and she released her grasp. The moments it had taken for Paul to complete his desperate run, had seemed like hours to the one watching in agonized uncertainty.

She nodded at his shouted instructions, unable for the moment to make audible reply. He allowed her time before she needed to start her run, and time she needed to bring fear and wild emotions under control. Uncertainty warred with love in her heart. How could she, a woman, complete what this man had barely made in time? Had she not seen the thundering death rolling unstoppable on its rampage? Here eyes strayed to the corridor that led back to the pool that lead to the outside world, away from this chamber of horrors.

She could flee and save her life, but at what cost? Had this quest been possible for one person on his own, would not Paul have refrained from drawing her into danger? So if she failed him now, the man she loved was as good as lost. Shaking her head vehemently, she grasped the sword by the blade, forming a cross before her eyes, she prayed, maybe not altogether to the Christian God of those who had become her companions and friends, but to the power of those who had set up the ancient tower of which she had been Guardian for eons on end. She prayed for the strength, speed and resolution to not fail in the task appointed to her.

With a sudden dash she sped into the chamber of traps, never looking in the direction from which a loud noise attested that the first log had been loosened. Throwing herself headlong into the hollow of safety that Paul had occupied earlier. The thunder of the log passing inches above her, caused her to duck all the deeper. But there was no time to lose. Out she scrambled, flinging herself forward, barely making the second recess in time before another log thundered by, tangling a small strand of her hair and ripping it from the scalp, so close had it come to take her with it.

Faster, faster. There was no time to catch her breath, as already she could sense the next log being released. Breathless she huddled in the third of the recesses and felt death pass over her. The log had barely cleared her hiding place, when she made one last, desperate effort to dash for the niche in the wall where Paul awaited her.

The fourth log already was bearing down upon her when she slipped on the flooring still wet from the water that had rearranged the trap after Paul's crossing. With a piercing scream she wildly clawed at the slick flooring before her, trying to regain her balance in time, but the thunder of the log was almost upon her.

A slick of water glistened in the dim light that filtered in from the vent hole at the top of the chamber. It made some areas slippery. Ainea's boot heel came down in one of those puddles when she was about four strides from the nitch where Paul stood, his arm outstretched to draw her inward. She slid, waving her own outstretched hand wildly in an effort to regain her balance, but she was too far out of control. In an instant her feet went out from under her and she fell, sliding toward him head first. Scrabbling at the floor did nothing to aid her, and she slid into the step at the base of the portal, cracking her head against it. Lying there dazed, she was unable to rise.

The log was nearly upon her as Paul leaned outward, his left hand gripping the edge of the sliding door. With his right he snagged her hand as it fell toward the floor, and he heaved with a mighty yank. Ainea was tall for a woman, and Paul was no mighty Irishman. However, she still was trim and petite compared to his muscled frame. Her body flew upward almost like it had been levitated.

So high did it go upward that the log passed completely under her, the huge cylinder's upper edge grazing Paul's arm where it stuck out of the top of the portal, his hand still grasping Ainea's with terrible urgency. As she started to fall and the fifth log bore down upon her, he pulled as he stepped back, hauling her unceremoniously inward. His heel caught on an uneven place in the surface of the floor and he went over backward.

That might have been the single thing that saved Ainea's life, or at least kept her from suffering the terrible wounding of having both legs amputated. As it was the end of the log struck the heel of her boot and clipped it against the frame of the door, shearing off almost an inch of it.

As Paul felt himself go over, he used his now-free left hand to snag her hair and haul her head backward, keeping her from smashing her face into the stone floor as she fell on top of him. He himself got a nasty crack of the back of his head against the that surface as he landed. For several minutes he saw stars in the darkened passage, for the portal had closed once again.

When it opened and he regained consciousness it was to see her worried face scarce inches from his as she studied him intently to see if he had been badly injured. Even as she looked at him, her hand was rubbing the bump on her own head, and she winced as she felt a scrape from hitting the step. But what concerned Paul was the trickle of blood that had started to course down her temple from a small raw patch on her scalp. How badly was she wounded?

She lay still for a few moments, thankful that she had escaped a gruesome death. Yet, when she realized that the figure beneath her did not move, she raised up warily to study his face, relieved when Paul's eyes opened with clear understanding.

As she scrambled to her feet a bit unsteady, her hand went to her aching head and came away with blood on her fingers. A sudden peal of laughter rang from her lips.

"Don't think that I have taken leave of my senses," she told Paul. "I am simply giddy with relief that we are both alive. Your maze has drawn first blood, no more, I say. There is nothing for it, we must go forward or die."

"So we must," Paul agreed. "But for a moment, I would like to lie here, and to hug thee. I thought I had lost thee, and I could not bear that." Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close, luxuriating in the feel of her and in the joy of having her with him, alive and whole. Gradually, he became aware of how really good she felt. And even as he did so, Ainea pushed up from his embrace. There was a knowing smile on her lips, the expression of a woman who understands how her man feels. Mixed with that was a small amount of triumph. Whether that was from having survived her ordeal or from having proof that she had captured his heart, he could not say.

He had not minded the brief outburst of almost maniac laughter, for he also had felt the surge of release as he realized that she was safe in his arms. Now he smiled, but it was one of apology. His words reflected his feelings.

"Oh, my Love, I am so sorry. I should not have presumed to ask thee to come with me. I had no right to put thee into such danger. Can ye ever forgive me?" Her expression as she returned his gaze was answer enough. Indeed, Paul realized full well that he would have played merry Hell trying to leave the encampment without her, especially for such a dangerous task as that upon which they now were engaged. Almost certainly she would have followed, and certainly without the example to follow and his aid, she would have died.

Rising, he found that there were several of his muscles that had been strained by the ordeal of pulling her upward to clear the fourth log. One in his back was particularly painful, but he strove to suppress that and to mask his instinctive response. But when Ainea tried to rise, she stumbled slightly on the broken heel of her left boot. Paul squatted, examining the situation.

"Are ye hurt? Thy foot or leg, I mean?" Ainea shook her head. "I see." His hand checked the way the heel had been sheared off. It was as if a knife had cut it, and the angle seemed to be about right that she still might walk on the stub. But the uneven lengths of the heels would throw her significantly off gait. He thought for a moment, and then decided.

Drawing his sword, he stretched her right leg outward and laid the heel of the undamaged boot against the stone floor. Then he put the sword blade edge against the heel and pressed it downward, cutting into the good heel at an angle and length to match the shorter one. In moments the two were cut the same and he extended a hand to help her to rise. Ainea stood and took a few tentative steps, testing the feel and her balance. At last she looked at him and a smile came to her lips.

"This will do, my Lord."

With that, she put her hand in his once more and they began to walk again. This time it was a long walk with their path lit by the pearl, and they became hungry before they reached their next destination. However, Paul kept them moving, saying that there would be a place for them to stop and eat, and perhaps to rest if they decided that would be wise. He seemed to favor that idea, judging by the way he spoke about it.

After several hours of travel they came to a spot where the passage widened and the floor changed from harsh stone to soft fine sand. It was not a large chamber, but rather had the feel of being a room designed for those who might pass this way to rest, eat, and perhaps to sleep. Indeed, in the center there was a ring of stones in which still remained the charred ends of wood from a small fire. Above them the roof of the chamber was conical in shape, with a small opening that led upward as a chimney. They could see no light coming in, and Paul commented that it must be night.

He set about rummaging for wood for their fire and found a large stack of it in a little alcove that had been carved in the side of the chamber. Also in that alcove was a tiny spring and a little basin about the size of his head. Water from the spring trickled into the basin, and when he scooped out a handful it was clear, clean, and cold. A short time later he had a fire going that was large enough for cooking and to take the chill off the room. Then he set about getting the food that they were to eat out from his pack.

It took no time at all before they had skewered some meat from Paul's pack and roasted it over the flickering flames, and soon a pleasant aroma filled the chamber that made them anticipate their simple meal more than they might have an elaborate banquet. A piece of bread and some yellow summer apples completed their repast, washed down by the clear, cool water that bubbled from the little spring.

Their hunger stilled, the exertions of the past few hours took its toll, and Ainea tried to stifle a yawn. It was easy to see that both were spent and night seemed to be upon them. "Might we rest here for a while, My Lord?"

The quietness and gentleness of the request, after the lovely meal and the complete lack of histrionics over her vivid experience, was so endearing that Paul grinned widely. He swept his hand toward the sand that was piled near one side of the little chamber.

"Yes, I too think that would be wise." Digging two light blankets from his pack he held one out toward the young woman near him. As he extended his arm and her hand touched his, he felt once again that slight current of presence and liveliness that characterized Ainea and her closeness to him. In addition, he felt a lurch in his perspective of her as he suddenly realized how extraordinary must be the love and trust she held for him. Not one girl in ten thousand would even attempt what she had done, under any circumstance at all.

Most would have shaken their heads at the ridiculousness of any such proposal, and wished their beloved good riddance for being so stupid. Not so this woman. She was bent on one thing, and that was that he should survive for her to love. Whatever it took, he realized in a flash of understanding, that she would do. And it came to him that he therefore held a deep responsibility not to lead her into things beyond her capabilities. Yet she constantly surprised him both with her innate understanding and skill and also with the speed and accuracy with which she learned new things. It was difficult to remember that at some point she might run out of ability to cope.

He loved her so. More than anything in the world at that moment, he wanted to hold her and tell her how much. Yet he dared not. Not now. Not yet. It would be too easy to let the moment build, to allow his emotions to escape and overtake him, to destroy all they had worked so hard to bring into being. No. He must exercise iron control of his desires.

Thus it was that he simply nodded toward her and said quite fondly, "Good night, my Love. Sleep well. And remember that I love thee."

The touch of Paul's hand sent a jolt of electricity through her whole being. She longed to be close to him, yet she knew that there lay folly. They had not been alone like this since those early days in her far away tower. Days of supreme innocence. Ainea had learned much since then, not to play with fire. Had not Paul stressed repeatedly that none but a pure maiden would be acceptable as his bride, once he achieved his goal. She would not jeopardize their future happiness by tempting fate.

So with a gentle smile she kissed his cheek and bade him a good night. Her love shone from her eyes, but she sought to place distance between them as she spread her blanket on the sand, and settled down for the night. Exhaustion soon took over and her even breathing attested that she was sound asleep.

He appreciated the kiss on his cheek. The look of love in her eyes told him that she too felt as did he ... that she wanted to be held and hold him, but knew the time was not right. As her hand slipped from his he raised it to touch it briefly with his lips, and then let her go to her rest.

Soon she was resting, soft breathing attesting to the fact that she slept. Before the fire died so much it would make seeing difficult, Paul riffled into the pack and withdrew a little case he had brought just for this situation. Carefully opening it he drew forth a little packet that unfolded into a large pouch made of a cow bladder. This had been scraped until thinner than parchment, but it still was quite waterproof. It hung empty from an ingenious little frame. Sir Peter had been at lengthy pains in its design according to Paul's description of his needs, while Sir Falkirk had provided the leathern parts and young Will Carver had done the wooden ones. Peter himself had made the silver bits.

Paul returned to the case and now drew forth a small silver mechanism. One side was a tiny bowl, and the other side was a hinged lever. three little metal balls and a clapperless bell also were part of the contents of the box. These things he added to the bladder assembly. Rising silently and going to the little alcove, Paul placed the contraption such that the bladder began to intercept the steady drip of water that kept the small basin filled. Only when the bladder was nearly full would it also fill the thin tube still connected at the bottom and allow water to flow from that.



The flowing water would drip from the tube into the little bowl, causing it to go down. That would raise the hinge and tip the little lever away. From the lever would roll the first silver ball, which would drop onto a little bell dome, making it ring and waking him. If not, the second one soon would follow, and then the third. Paul grinned at the memory of Peter's demonstration. The young knight had been so pleased with himself at the ingeniousness of the contraption. Of course, he had been equally pleased with the excellence of the workmanship by the others who had contributed their skills.

What was especially ingenious about it was that any flowing water could be used to make it work. Even a bucket or waterskin could be used for the purpose with a bit of ingenuity. Peter had given some thought to applying to the Judge for protection of the design, but had relented with he considered that others had contributed to it. Still, it was quite unique and Paul appreciated its capability. He was relieved that the ancient lay he had learned as a lad had been quite specific about the spring. Being trapped within the passage without drinking water would be dangerous, and if one had been injured by one of the traps, it might take several days to recover. The ancients had thought carefully of such things. In any event, the little alarm mechanism fit perfectly where it was supposed to go.

Counting silently, Paul obtained an idea for how many drops per minute went into the bladder, and from that quickly calculated the time to fill it to where the alarm would ring. It turned out to be about nine hours. A careful adjustment to the height of the uppermost reach of the bladder tube cut that to about eight hours, and he was satisfied.

Quickly, he laid himself onto his own bedroll, which he had pitched on the sand near to Ainea. His head was near hers, as he had seen young Gorka do with little Altea. Stretching out his arm, he left his hand lying on the sand near her. Perhaps she would discover it with her own in the night and take hold ... perhaps not. But it was all he dared do. In minutes he was sound asleep as well.

~~~~~~~~~~8~~~~~~~~~~

A slight touch woke Paul. It was butterfly-light, tentative. Seconds passed as he waited, and then soft fingers caressed his own. Moments later, those fingers inserted themselves into the curve of his, and then all was still once more. Paul smiled to himself and went back to sleep.

Drowsy and still half asleep Ainea thought she heard the chime of a bell, but dismissed it from her mind. But when a short while late there was the sound again, she opened her eyes to look around. The fire had long since gone out, but diffused light issued from the small opening in the roof of the chamber. It did not do much to illuminate the chamber and Ainea still could not determine from whence the bell sound had issued.

There it was again, and its sound seemed to emanate from the little rill of water. Puzzled she shook Paul's shoulder, where he lay, a shadowy figure wrapped in a blanket.

"Listen! I hear the sound of a tiny bell. What might it be?" She whispered.

Paul chuckled as he opened his eyes and looked into the enchanting pair that were filled with question. "It might be a fairie, or some such, come to disturb our sleep. Or, it might be a little device I set to wake us," he mused. "It seems to have served its purpose." With a grin he rose and stretched. Going back up the tunnel through which they had come, he found the little side chamber that had been left for persons to relieve themselves. Finished his duties, he returned and sent Ainea on her way to do the same.

As soon as she returned, he showed her the small device he had set up the night before. Unlike most women who would have glanced, said "That's nice," and ignored it from then on, Ainea went down on her knees and studied the little machine intently. Looking up she commented that she could understand how it might be changed for timing. Paul nodded, amazed that she understood, or even cared.

Yet that was part of what fascinated him about this woman. She cared ... deeply ... about all that she saw and experienced. Learning was a lifelong desire for her, one honed by literally centuries of isolation and lack of new material to study. Ainea absorbed each new experience like a sea sponge does water, memorizing every detail. More, she was able to take what she had seen or experienced and both analyze it for understanding, and then apply what she had learned in new situations. As he prepared the fire for breaking their fast, he commented on that issue.

"This is what will make thee a wondrous pairing for the sake of our kingdom," he said, adding hurriedly, "Aside from the fact that I love thee to distraction and would have none other!" His grin must have been infectious, because she smiled at him in return as she replied.

"A most ingenious device, I must say. But now that we are well awake, what might there be hidden in your pack to serve as our morning meal?" Not waiting for a reply, she rummaged and triumphantly drew forth several hard boiled eggs, a small slab of cheese and a loaf of hearty brown bread from which she proceeded to slice thick pieces with her dainty skean dhu, and topped them with a generous portion of the cheese. Fresh, cool water once again served for a refreshing drink while they sat and devoured their meal.

The rays of light filtering through the shaft high above, were gradually getting stronger, as dawn grew into morning. Together Paul and Ainea gathered up their belongings and returned them to the sack that Paul would carry. There was less weight to in now, since they had made inroads on things edible.

Ainea once again kilted her skirts so they would be less of a hindrance to their progress. Soon they would be on their way and she wondered what new challenges the day would bring, hoping none would be as dangerous as the traps they had traversed the day before.

Paul cautioned Ainea that they had a long way to walk before they would reach the next challenge. It would take them at least three hours to make the trip, for the second trap was quite near the Citadel. For a long time, they walked in companionable silence, hand in hand. As they neared their destination, however, Paul tried to explain to her what he knew of it.

"This one is a water trap. When we enter its chamber it shall be flooded with water when we reach the middle. We must tread water, rising with it until it nears the ceiling. Then we must locate the only place where a small pocket of air will remain when it is full. The room remains full for about ten minutes, and in that time we have to keep our heads above water and in the air space so we can breath. It may be more difficult than it sounds, for the ancient lay says,

"Then cometh the liquid to render justice to the pursued and pursuer. Only the pure, the one who has learned and is obedient, shall survive. And that only if ye strike out strongly to the place where safety awaits. If more than one, the strong must aid the frail. Head upward, remaining calm, ye must endure the horrors of the chill, the dark, and the unknown that await. In that place must ye abide for long enough that none of ill ilk shall survive, and must not move aside when the waters begin to recede. Then in minutes shall ye be deposited once more upon the floor within the ring, wet and weary, cold and shivering, yet alive and free of pursuit."

He was just finishing his recounting as they finally came to the next of the obstacles. The room looked much like the last, except that it was smaller in overall diameter and the ceiling was higher. In fact, it was so much so that it was lost in grey-black dimness in spite of their pearl light. Paul tried holding it upward to throw as much light up as possible, but still he could make out nothing of any air pocket that might save them. Everything seemed to slope upward and inward toward the center, where a slight illumination filtered in.

Ainea peered upwards into the upper recesses of the chamber, but Paul's light would not reach so far, and the faint luminescence up on high, did not give enough illumination to show what was in store for them.

There was little choice given but for them to dare this new challenge. Their hands met and joined in a brief gesture of trust and oneness. Hand in hand they stepped forward into the chamber. A grating noise attested that the way they had entered was now sealed off by a massive block of stone.

Paul's recitation had largely calmed her fears and she raised her face upwards to where the faint light drew her eyes, concentrating on it as if it spelled salvation, which well it might. Ainea was a strong swimmer used to mountain torrents racing wildly after a heavy rainstorm in her native Caucasus Mountains, not just the tranquil pond in the woods near her tower.

The sound of rushing waters reached their ears.

The door was worse than Paul had expected. It sounded for all the world like it was about to come loose from its channels and chase them. Never before had he heard anything so nervewrackingly obnoxious or final. However, they were nearly in the center of the chamber and could not possibly return to the portal in time to slip through before it closed. For better or worse, they were committed to the chamber and its operation.

A gurgle and then a rushing sound announced the advent of the water, the sound coming from the one opening in the ceiling that they knew existed. At the same time the light that had filtered dimly inward was cut off. Paul realized that they were nearly directly beneath the pipe and had a sudden vision of hundreds of barrels of water dumping on them from such a height. It would flatten them against the floor, either causing significant harm or at least pinning them there.

They might drown before the deepening water reduced the flow force enough to allow them to begin to swim. Conversely, they might be tumbled across the floor, breaking arms, legs, and heads and being swept aside and away from the promised safe place. Wildly he cast his eyes about. looking for some clue as to where they should bee before the water hit them. However, the light of the pearl he had tied to one wrist with a piece of thin silk cast shadows only from the low fire ring of stones that lay upon the floor, somewhat closer to the chamber's normal entry than to the center.

Sudden inspiration seized him. Paul yanked Ainea, she stumbling to remain with him as he raced to get within that small ring. The flooding waters cascaded behind them, and barrels at a time did not begin to describe its volume. Except for a river falls, Paul never had seen so much water drop in such a short time. They were not even within the ring when they found themselves having difficulty moving with the tug of the rapidly-deepening water that threatened to sweep them off their feet. They made it and Paul pulled Ainea into his arms, spraddling his legs to brace against the stones that had looked so lightly set, but now proved to be firmly anchored. The torrent swept past, rebounding from the walls and causing cross currents that again and again pushed and pulled them as it seemingly sought to dislodge them. Roaring sounds of water that had fallen a long way ensued as Paul noticed for the first time the large whirlpools of openings at the edges of the room that drained water away. Had they been knocked down, quite possibly they might have been dragged there by the racing current and swept into one of those holes, to fall with the water until they too added to the roaring and echoing sound of its impact against stone far below.

Paul continued to cling to Ainea until the water rose to her chest height. Then he noticed an abrupt change in the current, accompanied by a cessation of the roaring. The drains had closed, and now the water fairly leapt upward in depth. Almost instantly the two were swimming, trying to tread water and keep their faces above the surface. For Paul, with the heavy pack, that was difficult.

To his delight Ainea understood that as well. Swimming like an otter, she circled behind him and caught the tie strap with one hand, lifting and easing the burden he supported. Now the rate of water entry slowed, and they were left to swim in the darkness and the faint underwater light of the pearl that remained tied to one of his wrists. Paul could not see the ring any more, and he tried desperately to keep them from moving aside from being directly over it. It was all he had as a reference, and it was all the room offered in the way of a clue.

Suddenly, their heads were just below the ceiling. Paul raised the hand to which the pearl was tied and its light now illuminated the great cone of stone that capped the room. Suddenly he noticed a darker area of the ceiling, a mere shadow a short distance away. But there should not be such in a surface that was nearly completely smooth. With powerful strokes, Ainea following his lead, he swam toward the shadow and came beneath it just as the water raised the two of them into it.

It was a relatively small tube, one almost unnoticeable from the floor or in the dark. Had they needed to depend on torches that the water would have snuffed, they might not have found it at all. It was not large enough for both of them to enter fully, however. One would have to precede the other, and now Paul understood the warning of the lay, that the strong must help the weak.

He slipped the pack from his back and somehow managed to hurl it upward while Ainea ducked down into the water and to arm's length away. He heard the "thunk!" of it hitting something solid just after it left his hand, and then a "splat!" as it landed on something off to his right. Without a moment's hesitation he ducked down and pulled Ainea toward the shaft. Grabbing her around the ankles, he gave two mighty kicks of his feet to propel him upward, pushing her up before him. She slid upward in the little passage with the water on her hair and clothing acting as a lubricant to let her slip around the bend above instead of jamming or whanging her head.

Moments later he felt her weight lift from his arms and he let her go. Agonizing for breath he got his head into the opening just in time to keep from drowning. A few gasps and he pulled back clear again. Now it was his turn. He must make it exactly, for if he missed the opening he would dash his brains out. Hands up, he gave one great sweep down with them as he again kicked twice. He did not make it upward as far, but it was far enough. A surprisingly strong hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and hauled him unceremoniously up and forward. Letting his body relax and bend as he came through, he found himself lying chest and shoulders on a little sandy shelf.

The pearl tied to his wrist gave soft illumination to the little chamber. It was not much bigger than enough for perhaps eight adults to be in at once. Anyone who had not found the opening would have drowned, for the water in the tube now stood right at the level of the sand. However, that was not the worst of their situation. In the gentle light, the sparkles of thousands of eyes blinked at them like a starry night.

They were the orbs of hundreds of large spiders and more than a hundred bats. Wriggling, crawling, shuddering, these creatures stared at the invaders of their tiny kingdom. Looking down at his feet, Paul suddenly understood that the white stuff below his boots was not sand at all. It was finely-ground bone and chitin.

The rising waters aided her efforts, without them she would not have possessed the strength to lift up a full grown man by his hair. But lift him she did, and as his body lay across the sandy shelf, the eldritch light he carried illuminated their small hideaway. The low ceiling was covered with creatures hanging upside down, suspended by their feet. She had often watched these stealthy night hunters circling soundlessly around her tower. Their sight had always given her a shiver.

When one of the animals let go of its ceiling perch and glided towards them on thin, noiseless flying membranes, Ainea could not quite suppress a shriek as it swept over her, fearing that this creature of the night would become entangled in her dripping wet hair. The noise thus created stirred up the whole colony in a wave of motion, with sounds not quite audible to the human ear, yet sensed and all the more disturbing.

As Ainea shied back she stumbled into a net of spider webs, disrupting the careful creations of hundreds of diligent spiders. While a child of nature, Ainea still had a woman's aversion to bats and spiders, not to be denied. Yet, she wondered, "If this little refuge is as isolated as it seems, what are the spiders catching in their webs, and how do the bats exit this place to hunt, as they surely must to survive?"

She stumbled into a net of spider webs, disrupting the careful creations of hundreds of diligent spiders. These fled from her, some in their haste attempting to scamper across her. Paul's voice was low, soft, and it was filled with concern as he spoke one word.

"Hold."

Amazingly, somehow it seemed that his tone reached her when his word might not have. Ainea froze in the very act of raising her hands to brush the little arachnids away. The ensuing silence allowed the little mammals hanging around them to settle as well. For long moments his eyes, filled with compassion, held hers until all the creatures became still once more. Her frightened eyes locked fast on his in a wordless plea for release. At last, he spoke again, this time in a near-silent whisper, his words the merest breath of sound.

"As long as we be still, Beloved, they will not harm us. The spiders reside here to feed on those insects that escape from or cling to the bats. Those latter cleanse the air of the country about us of flies and mosquitoes, and return here to raise their young. Yet they will not harm us. They, like us, now are prisoners here until the water recedes. And we can do nothing with it until the same event, so let us bear their presence with good grace. If ye wish it, lie back and turn over, so that ye may see that they only huddle together, frightened of us more than are we of them."

She nodded ever so slightly and slowly lowered her hands to her knees. She did not lie back but rather leaned gracefully and with amazing suppleness toward him until her head rested in his hands. Then with the same fluid ease she twisted until her entire body flipped over in one smooth movement that in no wise Paul could have imitated. Now prone but with her head in his hands and facing upward, she watched.

At first the fear and revulsion of her initial reaction were evident in her expression. However, in a few minutes she realized that he had spoken truly. The spiders went about re-casting their webs, one being so bold as to drop down and attach a line of its silk to her bodice before scampering upward on it to begin its patient spinning. This brought a small smile, somewhat shaky, and she continued to watch.

Even as she set about making another support strand, Paul found a little sliver of bone that was larger than the others and used that to remove the spider's first cast. His movements were slow and cautious. When the bit of bone was lying beside her, the two watched in fascination as the little creature adjusted and continued its efforts. Meanwhile the warmth they shared from their closeness helped to control the shivers that came as the damp and cold tried its best to penetrate.

Meanwhile the bats quieted. In the silence, slow ripples of movement passed over the living blanket that huddled above and around them as one or another of the little animals changed its position slightly and those packed about it adjusted their own situations to compensate. When Ainea became satisfied that the spiders were not a threat, she turned her attention to the others. Slowly, wonder crossed her face as she watched them peer back at her in the faint light of the pearl. They moved not toward the invaders, and posed no threat ... or so it seemed at the moment. His voice came once more.

"See? Like us, they are afraid of what they do not understand. One of the towers, only one, at the Citadel has such a gathering. They live in the area under the roof, yet above a stone ceiling. It smells a bit ripe in the room below, but that is all right. It is used only as a watch tower. Generations of Kings have used it so and left the bats to do the same. Once each year someone goes up there to clean out the droppings, but they do their best not to disturb the colony. In return the little ones help keep our fair town clear of pests and vermin."

One of Ainea's hands, which had gripped his wrist in a convulsion of panic, gradually loosened as understanding dawned and her fear subsided. For a time more the Human pair lay still and watched. Suddenly there was a gurgle as of a giant cleansing its throat. A mighty giant it would have had to be, for this one's mouth would have been the entirety of the chamber that now was filled with water. Immediately, Paul hauled himself clear of the opening and past Ainea, reversing himself to thrust her toward the opening.

"Dive in! Then tread water and try to stay within the circle of stones below. I will follow right away!" As she hesitated, he pushed her ahead of him. "You must! Or we shall fall to our deaths!"

She looked at Paul with a skeptical expression, but his words did impress themselves. "You must! Or we shall fall to our deaths!" Without further arguing, she dove headlong into the gurgling waters and found that there was now head room to breathe below the narrow passage that had led them to the batand spider infested cave.

A splash nearby proved Paul's arrival at her side, and she soon found his hands encircling her own, as they were treading water to stay afloat. The flood receded but slowly, and intense cold seeped deep into the duos bones. A sudden gurgling and whooshing noise, was accompanied by an alarmingly rapid drop in the water level.

Paul and Ainea found themselves dropping at a frightening rate as the water was sucked away into unknown depths, threatening to take the two humans with it to their destruction. They held together, trying to maintain position above the circle of stones that was becoming visible below. When the tallest of the boulders surfaced two pairs of hands clung to it and to each other, while the water tore and tugged, trying to dislodge them.

Cold, wet and tired, they finally felt solid ground under their feet, thankful to have survived another of the ingenious traps.

Paul made what efforts he could to hold Ainea against the tide of water that poured past the two and disappeared down the huge drain holes. Had the circle of stones not been there, or had it been situated differently, they might have been swept away. As it was, they were in the center of the currents and were able to cling and hold. However, by the time the last of the water drained away, so to had their reserves of strength.

Ainea collapsed in a heap on the dank floor, wet, cold, totally miserable, and shivering as with an ague. Paul wanted nothing so much as to join her, or to force himself to figure out how to make a small fire in that apparent fire pit. He sat against the edge of one of the stones in the circle as he tried to force his weary mind to think what must be done.

A few minutes later, though, they felt a gentle tremor and heard dull thunking sounds as one by one the drains closed and sealed. The chamber was in the process of resetting itself. He did not want to stay and see what would happen if it sensed their presence again. The two of them might not survive another cycle of being tossed about by the rising water. They had found the safe place more by accident than by good management. Paul was not sure that he could get them there again.

He grabbed for Ainea's sleeve and half hauling her, nearly slipping and falling himself, started for the portal that was supposed to be the entry to the room. His heart was in his throat. What would happen to them if the doors slid shut, sealing them inside, and they were unable to get back to the circle? But he knew the answer to that, even as the question vaguely formed in his mind.

They would die.

And it would not be an elegant death in battle. It would be the long, slow one of fighting against the rising waters, being swept away, or drowning. For the life of him he could not force his mind to consider which of those alternatives was worst. He simply refused to consider any of them. Forcing himself to stay erect he plodded along, all the while cursing under his breath at the time it was taking. The room was going to finish resetting before they made it, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He dared not try to rush. If they slipped and fell, there was no chance for them. But to him their progress seemed agonizingly slow. He pressed onward, though. This place was not going to defeat him. If his great-grandfather could pass through here, so could he. At last they neared the portal and Paul expended his last ergs of energy to push Ainea ahead of him and up the three steps that came down into the chamber on this side. She tumbled into the opening, but not quite clear of the massive stone that served as the door.

Paul hauled his weary self up the steps and staggered inward just as the door started to move. Stepping hastily over his betrothed, he grabbed her unceremoniously and hauled her clear. Only when they watched the huge block slide to its closed position did he fall back against the floor, Ainea once more on top of him but this time facing upward as well. There the two of them remained for many minutes. At last he spoke, barely audibly.

"I seem to make a habit of pulling you clear of doors, my Love." Then as she stirred to turn over his face flamed as he realized what parts of her anatomy he had been holding.

She was cold, miserable and exhausted and only stubborn pride kept tears from forming in her eyes. Moreover, she knew that Paul was no better off. The air was chill in the underground passages, and it would have been nice to cling to the man she loved so dearly for mutual warmth. But there lay folly, they must move on and warm their bodies by movement and action.

Reluctantly she scrambled up and wrung as much of the water from her clothing and hair as she could. Her skirts clung heavily to her legs which would hinder her movement, but such would ease as the warmth of her body drove out the moisture.

"Come," she encouraged, "we must move on," while she stamped her feet and swung her arms to and fro to bring warmth back to her body.

While her words made sense to him, Paul did not want to go yet. He wanted desperately to stay, to hug Ainea, to warm her and care for her and love her. His patience with the enforced standard of separation that social mores required was wearing quite thin. Even so, something in his sense of decency and honor motivated him to accept that she was right. Rising, he joined her in removing as much water from his clothing as he could. Turning his back, he undid his lacings and slid out of his trews. Those he wrung out and then slid his legs back into them. His shirt was next, and when that was done he turned toward Ainea.

She was trying to wring out her skirt. It simply would not yield most of the moisture, because she could not get enough of it into her hands to properly wring it. Paul undid the little silken scarf that had carried the eldrich pearl through the water chamber, and gently laid the scarf and the pearl on the floor of the passage. There it continued to provide faint light, although he noticed that it was growing dimmer. They must hurry, for if it went dark there would be no light for them. They had no materials to make a torch.

Quickly he stepped to her, and gently turned her about. Lifting her arms Paul undid her back laces and let the sodden skirt go down around her ankles. Ainea got the idea and stepped out, keeping her back to him. Picking it up fro mthe stone, he handed the waist of the garment to her to hold, while he backed away and began to twist the fabric. Water cascaded from the heavy material onto the floor. He twisted until her hands began to slip and then desisted. Stepping forward once again he returned the garment to her. As he did so, his hand trailed across hers in a gesture of love and sympathy.

Turning his back, he waited until she had gotten the garment back on and tied. When she spoke his mane, he turned and looked at her, appraising her condition as well as his own. They both were exhausted from their ordeal. Truth told, they both looked more like half-drowned rats than Human beings, but attention to such niceties must wait. For now they needed to move or slowly succumb to the cold. With a nod, he beckoned to her, scooped up the pearl, and began to walk. Her hand found its way into his as they progressed toward the third of the traps.

This was the one that was most likely to harm them, he knew. It had been designed to give those who would pursue a fleeing King a false sense of security. Those entering that chamber from the Citadel met no resistance whatsoever. They were allowed to pass on and reach the nearby water trap, to perish there. But the Old Ones who had designed this passage had considered two things. First, some pursuers might not have entered the water chamber when it cycled. They might try to escape back to the Citadel. The other consideration was that someone might try to do exactly what he and Ainea were attempting.

In either case, that chamber was designed to snare any who came into it from the outside portal. The nature of that challenge was what troubled him. Quickly, he told her of it.

"Soon we shall reach a smallish chamber. From the moment we enter, we shall be observed, watched by a force that is not anything I understand. There is no way I can predict what it will do to interfere with our passing. All I know is that we shall be tested, and the nature of that testing differs for each person who experiences it. The ancient lay tells of this."

Then he recited the verses, those basically explaining in exquisite clarity that any who came into the chamber must go straight through without stopping or turning back, presuming that they were fleeing from the Citadel. It said only that should the rightful King try in any way to return, he must be tested to prove his right to do so. Other than that, there was precious little information except the last phrase: "... or the one that challenges thee shall destroy thee and ye shall be powerless to avoid thy doom."

He just had finished reciting when they arrived at the portal into the third of the trap chambers. Looking inward, they could see the entry portal opposite and a bit to the left at about thirty paces distance. Nothing else appeared to their view. Paul laid a restraining hand on Ainea's arm. He looked at her, his eyes shining with his love for her. With a small smile of tenderness, he laid his right hand against her cheek, cupping her face with it and gently stroking with his thumb. Ainea closed her eyes for a moment, seemingly content to allow the touch and gesture of intimacy. Then she withdrew from that touch and with a tug of her hand stepped into the cavern.

As he followed, the pearl flared with brilliance. In seconds it burned through the last of its life as a source of illumination and the two were left in what appeared to be utter darkness. Paul pulled them to a halt. They could not go onward unless they could see well enough to avoid obstacles. As they stood there his eyes began to adjust. The fiery pinwheels of his vision gradually resolved into the ability to see a very faint glow.

It came from the entry portal. While it did not allow them to see what lay before directly them, if they moved slowly and with care at least they had a sense of objective. He began to draw them forward, testing each step as he went. Suddenly he froze.

It was not his desire to do so. In fact, if anything he wanted to run headlong to avoid contact with what his eyes now beheld, an apparition coming toward them from just to the right of the entry portal. Behind him he could hear very faint whimpers as Ainea tried desperately to free herself of the compulsion to remain.

She trudged after Paul in the dimming light of the Fay light he carried. The thought that it's eerie shine might fail them ere they emerged from these treacherous tunnels, was not a pleasant one. The stygian dark could easily send them stumbling into hidden traps and lead to their destruction. Yet, her faith would not allow for such, her heart clung to the believe that Paul was fated to win back his birthright, and she would gladly stake her life on this.

She listened to his recitation of the next challenge, "... or the one that challenges thee shall destroy thee and ye shall be powerless to avoid thy doom." The feel of Paul's caress still warm on her cheek, she stepped into the fateful cavern, her action a challenge to the unknown foe to let her own body be Paul's shield.

As the light flared and died and total darkness embraced them, Ainea's courage flickered for only a moment. Her hand sought the hilt of the sword she carried, more for reassurance than anything else. The dark receded ever so slightly as eyes became accustomed to the dark. As the far portal became visible, she took a few tentative steps in that direction. Her progress ended involuntarily as she froze like a statue, to stare helplessly at the gruesome form that barred their way.

The apparition was one of bones, a walking skeleton on whose head sat an ancient, dented crown, and whose bony limbs were draped in the threadbare, rotten remnants of what might once have been a toga of ancient Rome.

Whatever held her motionless, also affected Paul, neither could attack or even avoid this ghostly denizen of the chamber, as it came ever closer. A voice echoed through them like a whisper from the grave.

"WHO ENTERS HERE WHERE FEW HAVE A RIGHT TO TRESPASS?"

The question was posed politely enough, and Ainea felt a lightening of the force that held her immobile, enough that she might speak. However Paul was the first to answer.

"I am the Lord Paul, rightful heir to my father's Kingdom of the High Mountain, and seek to enter the citadel to evict the usurper who holds sway in what does not belong to him."

The hollow eye sockets of the skeleton now turned their attention to Ainea in wordless question. She answered softly.

"I am Ainea, Guardian of the Tower of the Ancients and descendent of Nuada of the Silver Arm, King of the Tuatha de Danaan. Betrothed to the rightful heir of this citadel."

"... WHERE FEW HAVE A RIGHT TO TRESPASS?"

The specter's words came in a polite, if resonating manner and tone. There was little doubt, however, that a response was both expected and required. As the pressure that kept him from moving eased slightly, Paul gently squeezed Ainea's hand for encouragement to her, and then responded as best he could think to do.

""I am the Lord Paul, rightful heir to my father's Kingdom of the High Mountain, and seek to enter the citadel to evict the usurper who holds sway in what does not belong to him."

He would have gone on to explain the circumstances, but the skull swiveled so that the empty sockets gave regard to the woman whose hand Paul still held. The specter did not repeat his question, but waited silently for her to identify herself. With humility and yet with a strain of pride, she did so. At the mention of Nuada, the skeletal figure stepped back. Its voice came again, but this time in a conversational tone, without the resonance. Paul found the difference intriguing, and somewhat amusing. It was as if it had been given the ability to speak loudly in order to add to its stature, something that was completely not required.

"So ye say." The eyeless face swiveled once more to him. Still in the quieter voice, the ancient one demanded, "Prove thyself."

How to do so? He could recite his lineage, but that proved nothing. He had nothing with him that would certify his right to rule, for he never had been confirmed as such. His father had carried the signet of the Crown, but that was gone three centuries ago, probably taken by those who attacked and mortally wounded the King. Certainly the ghost of his father whom they had encountered in the High Tower had not offered it. Then he recalled his thoughts on this, the plan he had envisioned when first he saw the Sword of Nuada.

"Sir Specter, I can not prove myself." It drew itself up as if in preparation for dispatching him. "But hold, I beg of thee. This one who accompanies me will attest to my being, and will identify the means by which she knows my claim is a true one. And she carries the means of proving her own self." The skeleton stood erect, its left hand half raised. Long moments passed as it considered Paul's unique request. Then the hand raised further and beckoned.

Behind it, the wall of the room to the right of the entry and sweeping around to the left of the exit disappeared. Faint light silhouetted the ones who had been behind the wall and flooded into the chamber. The light illuminated a large chunk of wood that now sat in the middle of the chamber. It was an execution block. The ancient one spoke again.

"In all the centuries since I was placed here, only thee have tried to come this way and enter the Citadel. My instructions are clear. I may let pass that way only those who are proven worthy."

Those he had beckoned now strode forth. It was a huge host, warriors all, and like the one who wore the crown all were clad in tatters of clothing long disused. All were skeletal. Not one shred of flesh still clung to the white bones. Each was fully armed, and the weapons were at the ready. In their midst was a lone figure in a black costume of robe and hood that had no damage. It was an executioner, identifiable by his long halberd-style ax. What marked them especially was that there was not one sound from their movement. They were enough to give even the most hardened warrior the heebie-jeebies, and Paul was no exception. Silently he began a prayer for his soul and that of Ainea. Yet the empowered figure raised his hand once more in a gesture for the host to halt.

"Still, ye have raised a point. This I will grant thee. If she can prove herself, then she may go on. I will listen to what she says."

A cold shudder held Ainea in its grip, but she took pains to hide such from the hoary, skeletal warriors that confronted them, as she took a step forward.

"The sword of my ancestor will speak for me. None but one of Nuada's line may safely draw forth this blade." With those words she pulled Nuada's sword from its scabbard, but instead of raising it before her, in battle fashion, her bare hands grasped the sharp blade to brandish it like a mighty cross. There was covert movement among the skeletal warriors, but their leader moved not, nor showed surprise, yet neither did he exhibit malice towards her.

Emboldened or foolhardy, she was not sure, Ainea chose to press her luck. It would not do for her alone to be allowed to pass. "Sir Guardian, for as such I recognize you and your host, I matter little, but it is my Lord Paul who must fulfill his destiny three hundred years in the making. I saw and heard the parting words of the shade of his sire, Torr, the last reigning King of the High Mountain Kingdom, spoken in the ancient tower where for nigh onto three hundred years I guarded the secret of a fateful scepter. He spoke thus in my hearing and in the presence of others, to acknowledge his son and sole heir.

"Paul, son of Torr, King of the High Mountains, take what is yours by right. I give unto you your heritage. All in this assembly, please bear witness that Paul reigns now as King of the High Mountains."

"A Fay light, the gift of a dragon, has safely seen us through the traps and tests of this passage. Preserving us when all seemed lost. Now you, my Lord Guardian, must judge his right, and allow him to pass."

"None ever as had the temerity to speak to me in such a bold fashion. As the Commander of the rear guard for my Lord Charlemagne, whose force was destroyed by this man's ancestors, I should bear him malice. Yet ye raise some interesting thoughts, my Lady." His voice was pleasant as if the centuries of waiting for conversation both had mellowed him and created an intense desire to have someone engage him in such a manner. Even so, there was an undertone of the right to command within it.

"For the sword ye carry, I recognize it. More correctly, I recognize the scabbard, for I myself presented it to Lord Nuada. It is for this reason that it bears its inscription in the Latin tongue. I see that others have added similar placards in their own languages. I presume that this Eldrich blade will destroy me and any of my host it touches. Yet I have no desire to test it. And I take careful note that ye present it to me, not as a weapon and a threat, but in the form of the sign of the Christians. Yet ye suffer no ill effects from doing so. Ye may pass, for thy lineage is proven." He hesitated a moment before continuing.

"Next comes a more weighty issue. Ye claim to have been present when the King of the High Mountains passed his claim to the Crown to his son, and that this is his son. I have seen this Torr, for an elder brought him to the entry of this chamber once upon a time, instructing him in the way to escape. That elder was one of the Fey, and thus it surprises me not that someone else knows of such." Again he paused.

"But is thy word to be trusted? I must say it is, for I myself saw the result of the pearl this man carried being brought into this room. This place borders on the realm of the dead, and as such it carries much that is inimical to the lightness of the Fey. Both of thee saw what occurred. The light struggled to repel the darkness about it, and gave up all of itself in the attempt. If ye look in the hand of the one who holds it, I believe ye will find dust."

The binding spell eased on the two Humans before him and they did as he had suggested. Paul opened his hand and within it was a chalky substance that sifted through his fingers. That was all that remained of the pearl that was of great size and value. Roland continued his analysis.

"So it was a thing of the Fey, as ye have said it to be. Then there is the matter that ye were able to move toward me when ye drew the Sword, or even that ye could draw it at all. The binding spell can be countered, and it seems that the Sword of Nuada is one such counter. This gives great credence to thy statement. Ye tell me that ye both are more than three centuries in age?" The woman before him simply nodded, not deigning to speak. The specter slowly shook its head.

"Well, who am I to deny the possibility. Somehow I was removed from my grave, and given a sort of life again. I have been here for six centuries myself." He sighed. "For better or worse, ye have given over to me the right to judge him. I needed no such permission, but ye have given it. Thus I tell thee that it is by thy will that he suffers the consequence of thy decision." Now he looked long and hard at Paul.

"Lord Paul, son of Torr, Ruler of the High Mountains Kingdom. It is my judgment that the Lady speaks truly on thy behalf. Ye are the rightful heir, and thus have right of free passage. May the Maker of all things have mercy upon thee for the burden that ye bear. Go, the two of thee, and come this way not again."

His hand raised again, this time waving the host to return to their lair. They did so, but now both Paul and Ainea could hear the movements of the members of the little army. Somehow it took much of the frightening aspect away from them to see them shuffling away, muttering, sounding and acting just like ordinary people. Most, but not all.

The blessing gave him what his Scottish friends called a "cold robie". Shivers chased up and down his spine, and he wondered what the skeletal watchmen knew that he did not. Here might be a chance to find out something of the future that would aid him in his quest to keep the High Mountains Kingdom free of invaders. However, just as he was about to ask, he felt pressure against his back. Without a word, Ainea was urging him to be on his way.

Paul considered for an instant, and it seemed to him that she had the right of it. They had best depart while the going was good. The hoard still was in sight, and they could be recalled in an instant. Best to let it go for now. He started for the entrance opening, Ainea's hand urging him onward.

Roland, the famous paladin? Ainea was awed as she gazed at the apparition. At his side she noted, hung the fabled sword, Durandal, and from the belt, that held together the shredded rags that once might have been a tunic, was strung the horn that once upon a time had summoned Charlemagne himself, too late to succor his champion.

Despite the awe she felt, Ainea did not need a second invitation from the skeletal warrior.

"Go, the two of thee, and come this way not again."

She gave Paul an unceremonial shove towards the exit of the dread chamber, not wishing to spend more time than absolutely necessary in this ghostly company. Only when they had reached the doorway did she dare to breathe freely. A glance back showed the guardian watching their retreat in an oddly pensive attitude.

The Commander of the Rear Guard for the forces of Charlemagne, rested his hand on Durandal. He watched the two as they began their departure. Did they not know then? It was not until they reached the portal and the man had stepped through that Roland cleared his throat and spoke once more. This time his voice had the ringing tone of command once more.

"Hold, please."

The woman, who had looked back over her shoulder just as he decided to speak, stopped abruptly. Her hand went to rest upon her own sword, a gesture that was not lost upon him. Durandal's time was past. If that sword still held any power, it was during the initial confrontation. Once Roland had given judgment, it could not protect him further. His voice dropped once again to the more conversational tone.

"If it please thee, a moment more of thy time. Know ye either of the manner of my being here, or what may allay that?"

The man, who had returned into the chamber when his espoused stopped, shook his head. So too did the Lady, though she had a puzzled look on her face. She inquired why he should ask such a question.

"Ye hold in thy hands the resolution of my long tenure, and that of most of the men whom here ye see. Each of them died in the Roncesvalles Pass. Yet we have been joined over the years by others who sought to invade this place as well." His hand rose and beckoned again, and the host returned. Among them, they pushed and shoved, forcing several of their number to the fore. Sure enough, there were about two dozen who wore tattered English uniforms. One had a structure so huge that Paul started. The remnants of the uniform trailed in baggy folds behind it. He pointed at that one.

"I believe I have heard of this one in the reports I have received. Might he be Thaddeus Longbotham? The turnkey?"

Roland nodded.

"How did he come to be here? Umm. Why? What is it that ye say we might do?"

Roland lowered his chin slightly and the effect was startling. From their unchanged vantage, the upward and rearward sweep of the skeleton's jaw and teeth appeared to Paul and Ainea as if he just had smiled.

"Many questions, my Lord, all fair ones. Let me explain. Most of the men here before thee died in the Roncesvalles Pass. Yet we have been joined over the years by others who sought to invade this place as well. This one came to be here because he died defending the walls of the Citadel, as did all who wear his clothing. It matters not if the defense is just. As to why ..." the specter pointed at Ainea, "she can tell thee." The voice paused and then resumed.

"Any person who comes the way that ye have, and whom I agree has the right of passage, holds the privilege to release us." The ancient voice now had a droning note, as if he was reciting something learned long ago and not recently repeated. "Yet in turn, one must stay, to take up the duties I would leave. His men become those who died with him. But the choice to allow this, and the choice of the next protector, are thine my Lord. Understand, he will have no more will to refuse or to fail his duties than have I. What is thy wish?"

Her eyes spoke of compassion for the plight of the old paladin and his brave men, when Roland called forth the recent recruits to his band, and pointed to one of them, indicating that she would know this one. In the dim light of a torch Ainea easily recognized the immensely fat soldier as the one whose foul words had defiled both Paul and herself at the North Gate. Her blade had cut short his tirade and dispatched him quivering to this underworld. She also recognized the name the skeleton pronounced as one spoken by the villagers with anger and contempt.

Whispered words informed Paul of what she knew.