Fairy Godmother

into the dungeons, and Kylia imprisoned in her own tower.

The only reason that Julian himself was not dead was that he had come in late to dinner, had joined with Stancia's guards in trying to repel the invader, and had been thrown, unconscious and injured, into the dungeon with the rest of the survivors. The messenger had crept out of hiding to one of the dungeon windows, where Julian had told him what had happened himself. He probably had not been recognized for who he was, but that could not last for long.

'Get help!' Julian had urged. 'Go to the Glass Mountain, and if you cannot find the Sorcerer, go to my brother!'

The messenger had stolen a horse and fled to the Sorcerer who had created the Glass Mountain, only to discover that he, too, was dead. The messenger had returned to discover that the city had been sealed off, and Stancia's army was milling about, outside the walls, leaderless. The messenger had gotten another horse, having ridden the first to foundering.

'Go to my brother — ' Julian had probably meant his brother Octavian — or had he? Alexander was the one that had always been kindest to him; Alexander was the one who had been trained at the Academy in warfare. Here was the thing about The Tradition; it often found ways of making something happen that were completely without logic.

So if Julian had been thinking about Alexander when he had said, 'Go to my brother,' then The Tradition putting that together with the fact that Alexander was now a Champion, very likely arranged the rest.

How had he gotten here? How had he found his way to this remote place? The messenger could not remember. Elena had a guess, though she could not be sure. The Sorcerer might have left a spell, like the 'All Forests Are One' spell, that survived his own demise. He might have set something of the sort in the hope that he could escape, only to die before he could reach safety. Certainly the Sorcerer knew that Prince Julian's brother was here, and this would be the first place to seek help for King Stancia....

Perhaps that had been the last spell he had cast with his dying breath — to bring whatever messenger sent for help by Stancia directly here.

Or perhaps, given a very well-worn Traditional path of sending to a Champion for aid, The Tradition itself had bent distance and magic and made it all happen. Such a thing was not unknown.

That didn't matter now, and it was neither the time nor the place to discuss such things. The messenger was of no more use, for he was unconscious now and Rose was not sanguine about his being in any shape to respond any time soon. And time was most definitely of the essence. If ever the Evil Mage could be dislodged, it had to be now. Now, before he discovered that he already had Prince Julian in his grasp, before he replenished all of the magical energy he had used in taking the Palace, and before he cemented his hold on the Kingdom of Fleurberg.

'You can't just — ' Elena began.

But Alexander interrupted her. 'I know,' he replied, his voice hard, and his expression rigid. 'I studied military strategy. I cannot merely go haring off wildly; Champion or no Champion, if I charge straight at that Evil Mage, I have no chance at all.'

Elena sighed with relief, even while she throttled down a weight of guilt that felt as heavy as the weight of magic that had washed over them all. 'We need a three-pronged plan,' she said, instantly. 'First, I'll send a message to Arachnia and every other Godmother, Wizard, and Sorcerer I know — yes, and my friend the giant, and that dragon I traded for his blood, and even the Unicorn herd. Second, I will send a message to your father; if ever there was an act that would redeem him in Julian's eyes, it would be by sending an army to his rescue. And lastly — now, while two people actually have a chance to accomplish something, we will go.'

'Go?' he asked, baffled. 'It would take days to get there.'

'Less than that. First, I need to contact Arachnia — and someone else. More than anything else, we need something that can fly.'

No more than two hours later, that something arrived.

Elena had contacted every magician that she could, sending out every one of the white ravens with messages that would not arrive until, at the best, nightfall. She had sent frantic messages via her own chronicles as well, but had no guarantee that anyone would read the things any time soon. More than ever, she cursed the fact that there was no good, fast way of sending messages from magician to magician. The best one could manage was the better part of a day, and often it was far longer than that.

But by noon, she had the transportation she needed.

It came galloping down out of the sky, and drew attention to itself by drumming excitedly on the rooftop before coming to land in the courtyard.

At the sound of hooves on the roof, Alexander had started up, eyes flashing wildly, but Elena had known exactly what it was and ran out again into the stable-yard, where her help was waiting for her. 'Sergei!' she cried with joy, and flung her arms around the neck of the Little Humpbacked Horse.

'This is dreadful, Godmother,' the horse said, somberly, in her ear. 'The Sorcerer who has taken Fleurberg is one out of my countries. I do not know what he is doing here, invading your Traditions.'

Elena did not say what she was thinking, but she had been fighting terrible and despair guilt from the moment that she had heard of this disaster, and Sergei's words only seemed to confirm her worst fears. That this was happening because of her. She had broken The Tradition by taking a lover, and now a Black Mage from another set of Traditional paths had taken advantage of the weakness.

She did not say it, not because she did not want to acknowledge her own guilt, but because doing so would serve no purpose, would weaken Alexander's spirit and resolve, and would only waste time, time that was already precious.

'What can we expect, Sergei?' she asked, pulling away from him and stifling the wish to simply hug his neck and wail.

'I think it is a Katschei,' said Sergei in reply, while Alexander stared at them both bemusedly. 'Which will