Date: Wed, 17 Sep 2003 23:14:40 -0700 (PDT)
From: Corrinne S <quasito_cat@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dark Wishes Installment 29: Part 5 Chapter 2

This is a work of fiction, a work of magic and kings,
love and war.  It's the sequel to `Dark Wishes'
previously copyrighted under Nifty and the unopened
copy of that manuscript in my desk drawer now
recognized by the U.S. Postal Service and
International Common Law.  `Dark Wishes' took three
years to write and was posted rather quickly.  The
sequel won't be posted as quickly because I am
currently writing it.

Unspoken Wishes

M.C. Gordon

Part One: Markel

Chapter Two

     He was like, yet unlike, any of the Qell before
him though there were none alive to notice the
differences.  The alabaster skin and raven hair were
the same.  Tynan was taller and more heavily built,
lacking the extreme slenderness of the Qell of bygone
years.  His eyes were his most striking feature as was
true of all Qell.  But unlike the four before him,
Tynan's were of a different intensity ... the sparkling
silver appearing to flicker into shades of violet or
blue.  He bore himself majestically, as does one who
knows he can command absolute power over all around
him while choosing not to.  The aura surrounding him
was overwhelming.

     "Has Lord Trelaine vanished forever?" Jacoberra
asked, barely able to speak in the presence of this
new and unknown Qell Lord.

     "My brother lords are with me," Tynan replied
gently, seeking to ease the fear he felt from the
three aged women.  "We are, all of us, bound together.
 I carry all the memories of those who served the
world before me, as will others when they are needed."

     "Are you many," Ingraith asked.

     "As many as the drops of water in all the seas
and rivers of the world, Grandmother," the Qell
responded.  "We are the magic that binds all things
together."

      Silence followed as Tynan went to each of the
women and touched them, raising them from their
positions of submission and fear to stand before him.

     "You need not fear me," he said softly.  "I am
here because you summoned the Qell and I am the one
whose time has come to serve."

     The night air had grown cold and the sky grumbled
displeasure at some unfathomable thing.  Tendrils of
lightning flickered across the sky and the wind rose,
carrying with it the scent and feel of rain.

     "I think it best that we find better shelter than
the barren branches of this ancient oak," Tynan said
as droplets of rain began to fall.

     "We have only our own humble cottage," Belthanan
said.

     "Any shelter in a storm is better than none,"
Tynan replied.  "If I am to be your king I can think
of no finer place to spend my first night than in your
cottage."

     The three women, sisters and widows, made their
way to their small home as the sky seemed to erupt in
anger above them.  Bolts of lightning sought to strike
at trees and homes but were held back, as was the
rain.

     "This is an unusual storm," Ingraith said as they
entered the cottage and welcomed the Qell to their
home.  She quickly picked up a pile of dried grasses
and took two stones from a pocket of her dress.
Striking the stones together, she managed to light a
small fire in the fireplace.

  . . .

     In the small neglected graveyard, the ancient oak
tree long thought to be dead was suddenly filled with
leaves.  The toppled stones returned to their rightful
places and the names of the long dead again appeared,
as if time had never interfered.  Tynan smiled to
himself as this first small thing was done to restore
order to the world.  Those who had been his lovers
when he had been Miralen, Ilafrain, Resnaron, and
Trelaine would once again be remembered in that small
garden beneath an ancient tree, even though the
fortress was now nothing more than rubble and dust.


     He was not yet strong enough, for he was young as
a Qell, to spread his magic far.  But he cast
protection where he could and all within reach of his
gift found that their roofs failed to leak and fires
did not die during the storm that unleashed itself
that night.

     The morning air was crisp and clean when the
women and the Qell woke.  Tynan was surprised to find
the windows of the small cottage un-shuttered.  He
assumed it was because a horrible smell came from the
fireplace.  His nostrils pinched themselves closed and
he secretly hoped that a bird's nest had fallen into
the pitiful fire, for the alternative was food.

     He was dismayed as the figure in front of the
hearth began to scoop out bowls of something that
smelled horribly burned from the black pot hanging
over the remnants of the fire.  The three women
eagerly approached the hearth and accepted their
meager meal and Tynan knew his worst fear was about to
be acknowledged.  But fear is relevant, even when it
concerns a bowl of burnt greens and moldy grain ... and
the sight of the young man who brought him a bowl of
the questionable repast quickly dominated his
olfactory senses.

     "Please accept our humble food," the lad said and
Tynan completely forgot his repugnance at the smell,
not to mention the sight, of what was given him.  The
young man took his breath away.

     "This is Markel," Belthanan said by way of
introduction.  "He is the youngest son of my oldest
son's youngest daughter's youngest son."

     "I thank you," Tynan said as he looked at the
lad.  Markel was tall for a mortal, slender almost to
emaciation.  Unwashed, uncombed red hair stuck out
from his head in odd angles.  His complexion showed
long hours spent unprotected in the sun.  But he had
the countenance of one who has learned to be content
with life rather than rail against that which cannot
be changed.  There was a sparkle of merriment in the
soft green eyes, along with an invitation that did not
go un-noticed to the lord of magic.

     Not wishing to appear ungrateful, for he had
begun to realize that life was hard for those who had
summoned him, Tynan quickly used a small bit of his
magic to make the meager meal more palatable.

     "Grandmother," he said to Beltanan when they had
all finished Markel's meal, "may I borrow the
grandson?  I must see for myself what must be done to
begin to rebuild Elanen and he will be my guide."

     The three women smiled at each other, knowing
that the healing of the world was about to begin.  A
Qell, albeit not the one they had hoped for, was once
again present.  Markel had attracted the interest of
the Qell Lord, and the forest grandmothers had always
known that those lords of magic would know love from
none but men.  The hope of generations was about to be
fulfilled.

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