Martin was just looking for a costume. What he found was a whole new world and new possibilities.

Happy Halloween

Martin looked through the few racks of costumes one more time. It was still a week before the Halloween dance at the Student Union and all of the costume shops he had been to had been pretty much picked through. There were not many people looking for costumes now, they would have been through earlier in the week.

This was the fourth place near campus he had been in and the situation was the same. Unless he wanted to wear a hokey skeleton costume made out of nylon, he was out of luck. He didn't want to look like some kind of dork and he would rather stay home than go to the party if that was the case.

He was headed out the door with a disappointed look on his face when a boy came up to him just outside. At first, he thought that the boy worked for the costume store because he was in costume. He was dressed all in green, obviously a leprechaun.

"Couldn't find what you were looking for son?" The boy said. It took him a moment to realize that this was not a boy at all. He was all of four feet tall, but built like a full-grown man. If he had been 6 feet tall, he could have passed as one of Robin Hood's Merry Men.

He had an open face with a hint of a smile playing at the leathery corners of his mouth, as if he was about to tell a funny joke. His size would let him pass as a 12-year-old, but just the texture of his face said that he was much older than that. The eyes were the determining factor. Martin's grandfather had had the same kind of fine lines at the corners of his eyes. The way he looked up at Martin said that he was looking at an old man, not a young boy.

"I saw you going through those costume racks, but you didn't buy anything. Was there something wrong with them?”

He acted friendly enough, so Martin smiled at him and replied, "I was just looking for something authentic. I didn't want to show up for the college Halloween party in something that looked like a child's costume." Realizing that he sounded patronizing in his assessment of the store's inventory, he hastened to add, "It's nothing against the store! If I'd been smarter about looking for a costume, I would have been here days ago and found what I wanted then."

Martin's quick thinking apparently satisfied the little man because his narrowed eyes relaxed and nodded. "Yes, the selection gets rather limited as we get closer to the holiday. They usually give me a better inventory for the New Years' parties. I still have time to sell these outfits to children though."

He looked closer at Martin, rubbing his hands together. "Now, as for you. You said that you were looking for a more authentic costume. As you can see, my selection is rather limited now. But…I can refer you to another store and I know that their merchandise is much more authentic."

Martin considered for a moment before he shook his head and said, "No. I need to get to work. Thank you anyway."

"Oh come on boy," the man cajoled. "I'll walk you over there, it's just downstairs. We'll be there in two minutes and you will be able to find what you are looking for in a jiffy." He snapped his fingers to emphasize his point.

Martin's desire to fit in with everyone at the party overrode his need to go off to work at the restaurant and he agreed to go to the other shop.

"Come on, I'll walk you down there. Their store is hard to find from here." The little man’s constant chatter distracted Martin from asking why there would be a costume store in the mall that would be hard to find. The two of them walked over to the elevator while the little man talked about the store they were going to. Martin found himself enthralled with the descriptions of, not just the costumes, but the accessories that were available.

The elevator door opened immediately when the call button was pressed. When they stepped inside, he was surprised to see his guide insert a coin into the panel before pressing a button. When he realized that Martin had seen what he done, he explained, "Oh, that's just an override function. If I put a coin into the panel, the elevator won't stop to let anyone else on."

The little man told the story glibly enough, but it did not seem to ring true. There was nothing Martin could do as the door slid closed, seemingly faster than normal. The car began moving down immediately after, but the trip lasted for almost a minute.

"Did you feel that?" Martin asked, looking at his companion. He had felt dizzy for a second or two and the elevator had seemed to lurch. Almost as if it had gone sideways or diagonally instead of down.

"Feel what?" the little man said. "Oh…you mean that bump. That always seems to happen when I use this elevator. I hardly even notice it any more. Don't worry, we're perfectly safe." The man could not have looked less unconcerned. Martin himself would probably have been hysterical if he would have seen that everything outside the elevator car had been nothing more than a gray fog during those few seconds. "Here we are," he said, "the garden level."

The view outside of the elevator really did describe a garden…or a forest. Everything was bright with natural lighting and there was no sign of a flat surface or a square corner.

The scene was surreal enough that Martin stood inside the elevator and just took everything in. It appeared to be what you would expect of a shopping mall, if that mall was at a Renaissance Fair. There were stores and shops visible with customers moving down the passage between them.

There were, however, just a few difference from the malls he was accustomed to. Like the fact that the entrances to the stores were openings in or between large rocks or in trees, in itself, that would not have been as disconcerting as the shoppers themselves.

There were people, yes, obviously dressed for the holiday in rustic robes or in various kinds of leather. What kept him from leaving the elevator was that were the shoppers who were not human. He could see a man and woman browsing through the wares on a display table. They had to be 8 feet tall and built proportionately for their height. They were the tallest people he had ever seen and they would have been famous for their height. But he had never heard of someone like this.

Further along, a trio of tall slender men were going into a store. They were dressed in muted reds and yellows, almost like a uniform. The thing that really clinched the fact that something was 'off' were the birds that were flitting around the area. There had to be over a dozen of them and it wasn't until one of them landed on a table nearby that Martin realized that these were people with wings.

He looked down at his guide and said, "You guys really go all out for Halloween." Even as he said it, he knew that it wasn't Halloween out there. Telling himself that was the reason helped him to accept it though.

The little man smiled slightly at Martin's insistence that everything was normal. "It does look it, doesn't it? Let me take you to my friend's shop so that you can make your selection." He led the way out of the elevator and Martin trailed after. Once outside, Martin turned back to see that the elevator car stood out as a brightly lit room set into a large tree. Before he could react, the door slid quietly closed to leave a brown surface set into the side of the tree.

"Don't worry," the man said reassuringly, "it will still be there." He turned around and went down a few stores before stopping before the opening into a large tree. He stood there waiting for Martin to catch up.

Martin was finally beginning to listen to the misgivings that had been building up, but it was a bit late now. His fight-or-flight instincts were telling him that he was involved in something beyond his ability to understand and everything was telling him to either get back into the elevator or find a stairway and go back to the real world. But he was beginning to suspect that he was stuck here and that he needed the little man to get out again. The wisest course of action was probably to just go along with it, be careful, and keep his eyes open.

The shop he was ushered into seemed rather spacious for seeming to have been carved into a tree. For all of its earthy atmosphere, it was still a store. The walls, up to the arched ceiling, held racks of clothing. There were tables lining the traffic area all the way to the back of the store, that held all manner of leather goods. There were additional clothing racks at the back of the store beside display cases. Martin could not see a cash register, but he wasn't sure if he would recognize one around here anyway.

A door slid open at the back of the store, obviously in response to their entry. A girl, apparently the sales clerk, came out before closing the door behind her.

Her face was what Martin saw first and he was in love. If he were to be asked later what there was about her that he found so attractive, he could not have told you. It was everything as a package. Her deep blue eyes were set apart just right and the nose between them was larger than a pug nose without dominating the rest of her face. Her complexion was clear, with an overall light tan. She didn't seem to need makeup because of her natural coloring. Even so, her lips looked full and red. Perfectly kissable.

She favored Martin with an appraising glance and a passing smile. He could see that even her teeth were white and perfect. Her gaze traveled past Martin and down to his escort.

"Donnel," she said, smiling down at him. "I see that you have brought me another referral."

Donnel bowed to the girl from his waist. "Yes, ma'am. He made some uncomplimentary comments about my inventory, so I thought I would bring him to you." His tone of voice had changed to a much more respectful one, even though he managed to convey his hidden annoyance with Martin.

"Thank you Donnel. I have your fee here," she reached into a pouch on her belt and took out a small gold coin which she flipped over to the little man. The coin flashed through the air, turning several times before landing in the palm of his hand. Donnel looked at it for a moment, almost as if he wanted to bite it and bend it. He apparently thought better of questioning its authenticity and slipped it into his vest.

Bowing to her again, he said, "Thank you, ma'am. I hope we can do business again."

She gave him with a brief friendly smile before she turned her attention back to Martin. Knowing that he had been dismissed, Donnel turned and quietly left the store. Martin was totally captivated by the girl's countenance and never even registered Donnel's absence.

She smiled at Martin and the world seemed to recede in importance as he only seemed to see her.

“My name is Amareth. I believe that you are interested in an authentic costume of some sort?" She said. Her musical tone of voice was warm and inviting. Just hearing her speak enthralled him. The words seemed to echo somehow in his ears.

Realizing that she was expecting an answer, Martin blinked for a second or two before he said, "Ye…Yes ma’am. My name is Martin Brady. All I saw upstairs was nylon and cheap cotton. I wanted to look more presentable for the campus dance."

She could see that he was totally taken with her and almost incapable of thought. She smiled and, after studying him for a moment, she said, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that my glamour was quite so intense." She paused for a moment and her eyes narrowed a bit. When she opened them again, Martin found that he no longer felt like he was wrapped in gauze. The girl's face was no longer quite so captivating, even though it had lost none of its beauty. For some reason he had been unable to think of anything other than how beautiful she was and that he wanted to spend the rest of his life in her presence.

She was still very attractive. He assumed that she was wearing heels because she stood as tall as he was and he didn't know of too many 6 foot plus girls. She could easily have been a model because of her looks and how she moved.

"Martin?"

"Yes, ma'am?" he blinked at her and realized that he was staring again, getting lost in her eyes. It failed to register with him that she already knew his name.

"I can't turn my glamour down any further. You need to focus," Amareth said with a slight smile. She spoke like someone who knew that she was attractive and worthy of worship by undeserving males. The difference was that her manner was friendly and warm, nothing like the pretty girls on campus.

"Yes, ma'am," Martin answered. He was repeating himself, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.

“Please stop calling me ma’am," she laughed. "That’s my mother. You are here to buy something from me, so I should be calling you, sir.”

She put her hand on his arm. “Not that I mind manners though.” She guided him toward the back of the store as she asked, “What kind of costume were you thinking of?”

Martin felt completely at ease in her presence, he felt that he would give anything to stay like this. Happily, she didn’t seem to be taking advantage of him.

"I'm not sure now. What kind of costumes do you have?"

"I have a little bit of everything here," she said smoothly. "If you want to be a knight, I have a full suit of armor." She gestured to where a metal man appeared to be propped in the corner. "If you want to go as a bird, I have an eagle." The other corner was occupied by a man-sized eagle.

"Of course, those are a bit expensive. I'd have to charge you a lung or kidney for one of those." She winked at him but Martin got the impression that she was completely serious.

"Do you have something I could rent instead?" he asked half seriously. He was trying to get into the spirit of things by joking, “Maybe I could get the organ back if I return the costume?"

Amareth nodded and indicated a rack where a deflated brunette girl hung. "I do have some costumes like that. But you would still need to pay something. How would you feel about going as a cheerleader? It would only cost you the privilege of naming your first child. You would be 17 years old again."

Martin thought that he was getting the hang of the sales girl's banter. "How much will it cost if I bring it back?"

Amareth's expression did not change from her serious demeanor when she replied, "The cost is to name your first born child. If you don't bring the costume back, you will remain as a 17-year-old cheerleader and I get to add your current form to my inventory and I still get the naming rights."

The smile on Martin's face faded. While it sounded like she was joking around, he got the sense that she really was not. The longer this conversation went on, the more it felt like he was playing the part of Alice in Wonderland. The only thing missing was the White Rabbit and the Cheshire Cat.

Amareth's expression softened as she could see that Martin was not familiar with how business was done here in the bazaar.

"I'm sorry Martin. It would appear that Donnel has put one over on me and put you at risk as well. You obviously are not someone who would normally shop here. I think that we can find you a costume that will work for you that won't cost you more than you can afford." She led him over to a rack of clothes beside the counter. "Now…I don't take cash or credit in the way you think of it. Unless you happen to carry gold coins?"

He shook his head slowly. He realized that he might actually learn about what was going on around him and he didn't want to say or do something to stop the explanation.

She decided to take pity on the obvious outsider and explain some of the intricacies of his surroundings.

“This is the Bazaar,” she began. “There are many places like it, you just have to know where to look and how to get there.” She waved to indicate her store around them. “My shop is just one of hundreds in this particular area. We call it the Bazaar, with a capital B. There are other places that call themselves the Bazaar, but we are the biggest and the best. We are also the only one that is frequented by the inhabitants of Fairie or people who prefer items from our realm.”

He heard everything that she had said and he understood every word, but the concepts involved refused to connect in any logical sense. Was she telling him that he was no longer in Minnesota and that he was surrounded by elves and fairies?

The girl continued, drawing him back from his mental vapor lock.

"Something that you think might be strange or silly could be valuable. By the same token, truly valuable items here might cost you more than you could possibly imagine. Be careful about giving your word lightly or making a promise that you do not really mean as they can be as ironclad as manacles or steel bars.”

She waved at one the clothing racks beside them. "Now, something from this rack will only cost you a small vial of your blood. I'm able to sell that blood to someone who lives on blood."

"Vampires?" He didn't want to believe that vampires existed. But, after what he had seen so far, they just might be real after all.

She nodded. "Yes. But not in the traditional sense that you are familiar with. Vampires suffer from a variety of disorders related to their condition and register themselves so that they can receive medical treatment. Because they are in constant need of blood, there are many humans who sell their blood. There is actually a thriving black market involving blood. Don't worry though, you are in no danger."

As much as Martin felt that he should back out the door and try to go home, something told him that he couldn't return to familiar territory without Amareth's help. His guide was gone and he wasn’t sure he could get the elevator to work.

He didn’t think that a normal coin would get him home again. If he took her at her word that he was in no danger, then he could trade a vial of his blood for a simple costume and she might be willing to let him go.

He looked at the various robes, vests, and shirts made of leather. "Well, what could I get?"

Amareth studied him for a few moments before she said thoughtfully, "I think that you would look good as a ranger. You know, like from the movies?"

"You know about those movies?" Martian asked, surprised.

"Of course," she replied with a smile. "This might not be the world you are familiar with, but we do maintain contact with yours. I have to say that I found the elves in your movies to be rather amusing." She pulled out a brown cloak, a dark green shirt and trousers. "How about going to your costume party as a ranger? You'll look completely authentic for the dance and the spell will fade within days. Then the costume will just be regular clothes." She winked at him. "Who knows. You might even end up with a date. Every princess likes to be around an honorable man.”

Martin smiled at the thought. While he was not necessarily unattractive to the opposite sex, he wasn't all that confident in how he related to girls. The college co-eds he had dated found him to be too much work to spend time on to build a relationship. He knew that there had to be girls out there that might be interested in him, but he hadn't met them yet. Not that he was looking for a one-night stand. He wanted to meet a girl he could talk to and enjoy spending time with. One who was looking for the same kind of things he was.

He nodded in agreement and Amareth returned his smile. She was an honorable person herself and did not want to take advantage of the boy. She would be able to make a small profit on this transaction and Martin would benefit without serious cost to himself. She hung Martin's costume on a hook next to the counter and waved him over. She took out a small device from below the counter and set it between them.

To reassure him he was perfectly safe, she explained it to him. "This is how we collect blood. You lay your hand across the dome and a needle will draw the vial of blood from the thick portions of the palm of your hand. Doing it this way will keep you from feeling any kind of pain."

He looked at her for a moment, trying to gauge just how much he should believe her before he calmly laid his hand over the dome the way she had described. There was a momentary jab into 3 or 4 spots on his palm, but there was no pain or even the sensation of needles sliding into his hand. The one thing that alarmed him was that he wasn't able to pull his hand away.

"Don't worry," Amareth said. "It's just part of the spell. You just can't take your hand away until the blood draw is finished. You will be fine."

Before she could continue with her explanation, they were interrupted by the three men Martin had seen earlier in the corridor. They came through the door in a wedge, one in the lead and flanked by the other two. They acted like they owned the place as the leader swaggered in.

Amareth moved around the counter to confront him before he had gone too far. "Walden! What do you want here?" Her attitude said that she considered the man to be pretty much a bug or rodent.

Walden leered at her, obviously appreciating the scenery. "Your highness." He positively oozed conceit and superciliousness as he addressed her, making a rude bow toward her. "As you can see, we are the bazaar security and we are here to collect your payment."

Amareth slashed her hand down angrily. "Forget it Walden! I told you when I moved into this space that I wasn't going to pay you any protection money. Get out!" Amareth wasn't intimidated by how the oily thug spoke or how he tried to use his physical presence to overawe her.

Walden smiled thinly. "You know how these things work Amareth. If you don't pay us, things might happen." As he spoke, a tray of jewelry fell to the floor behind him, obviously pushed by one of his escorts.

Stuck at the counter, Martin could only watch Walden make his threats as he stood at the counter. Amareth's anger at having her merchandise thrown around or damaged was obvious. "Stop it Walden! My father will not take kindly to your strong arm behavior!"

"King Thanguron has no authority over us, princess," Walden sneered. "We are not in your kingdom and he will not take action. As long as we do not harm you, we are immune." Walden again tried to overawe the girl with size, trying to crowd her without touching her. He was almost a foot taller than Amareth, but his attempt at intimidating her was fruitless as she did not step back or even look afraid.

Martin was worried that her bravado might provoke the gangsters into actually attacking her. If he had been able, he probably could have tried to slip out the back of the store and avoid trouble. Once the familiar fight-or-flight instinct had passed, courage took hold and Martin stood tall and shouted at Walden to draw his attention. "Hey slime ball! Leave her alone!"

Walden straightened up from trying to scare Amareth and looked at Martin for the first time. "What is this princess? Is your pet fighting your battles now?"

"You're twice as big as she is, jerk! Why don't you pick on someone closer to your own size?" His bravado sounded like just that, but he had at least drawn their attention away from her.

Martin could feel the needles in his hand beginning to withdraw and he tore his hand loose. Now that he had their attention, he was going to find himself in trouble very quickly. Walden and his men began moving down the aisles toward Martin, with Walden drawing a sword from a scabbard on his belt. Apparently, the prohibition against violence did not extend from Amareth to anyone else.

Martin backed away, moving along the counter and ended up trapping himself against the wall. He looked about for something to fight with, a club or something and something drew his eyes to the open display of swords on the wall.

His hand stabbed out to take hold of a short sword from the open case. As his hand closed around the hilt, his bloody palm tingled as if an electric current were coursing through the sword and up his arm. Just holding the weapon seemed to fill Martin with an overpowering sense of confidence. That confidence came through the smile that formed on Martin's face and how his eyes tightened as he looked at the three thugs.

Walden did not see the change in Martin and spat contemptuously, "You are mixing into the affairs of elves and you are out-matched, human."

'You have nothing to fear hero. I will help you.' Martin heard the words of encouragement, but no one was speaking. He faltered for only a moment before deciding to trust the message. 'I am here. We are one. Trust me.' He had already seen and heard enough unusual things today, so Martin was willing to take the voice at face value. Especially when facing a sword-wielding gangster.

"I don't like bullies. I especially hate ones who pick on women." He stepped away from his corner to give himself room to maneuver. Taking up a stance that would allow himself to be defensive or go on the offensive, Martin twirled the sword in his hand with unaccustomed dexterity.

The display tables limited the number of attackers who could approach him to only two, if all three tried to attack him at once they would only interfere with each other. Walden was smart enough to let his muscle men attack instead of risking himself and stood back to allow them to attempt a pincer attack. Martin showed no concern as they moved toward him, each of them were a foot taller than he was. They both carried a short club that could be used in close quarters, while Walden was armed with a short sword like Martin's.

Both henchmen came at Martin at the same time, one swinging roundhouse while the other tried to bring his club down on Martin's head. Instead of remaining in one place as a target, Martin found himself weaving and dodging with unnatural agility under and around the attacks. As he stood up again, he swung his blade and a single curving slash cut through both clubs. As each piece of wood was severed, there was a blue flash from the sword blade and his opponents found themselves holding a piece of wood and metal that ended less than inch beyond their fingers.

Walden had been close on the heels of his men, prepared to use his sword on Martin. Instead of being able to add his attack theirs, he found himself brought up short Martin’s sword that was suddenly pointed at his throat. There had been no way he could have changed weapons but Martin now held a sword that was a good two feet longer than the one he had begun the battle with.

"Do you want to continue this altercation, Elf?" Martin's voice was cold. "I have been civil until now. If you continue, my sword will drink your blood and none of you will leave here alive." Walden's eyes were large and his men had the common sense to keep their distance and not endanger their boss's life by attacking Martin.

Walden's speech was formal as he said, "I will withdraw. I and my men will not trouble this store further." Martin continued to hold his sword pointed at them as the three men backed away and left the store. He and Amareth quickly found themselves alone again.

The girl stood halfway to the door, where she had been when the excitement had started. Her expression conveyed a sense of total shock as she stood there with wide eyes and her mouth open in awe. Things had started out as a confrontation with a thug and his enforcers who were trying to do a shakedown for protection money and had ended with her customer defending them both with a shape-shifting sword. Things became even more interesting when the sword transformed back into its original non-descript short form.

It took Amareth only moments to decide upon a course of action and she walked quickly to the front doors where she closed and locked them. She walked back to Martin, but stopped several feet away.

He was still on the adrenalin high of combat and he felt like throwing his head back and yelling for joy. He’d never felt anything like that before. The look on his face must have said the same because Amareth spoke calmly and carefully. "Martin? Are you able to put that sword down?"

The voice spoke to Martin again. 'Yes, you can put me down, but I would prefer to be sheathed at your side.'

Martin smiled at Amareth and relayed the gist of what his sword told him. She relaxed somewhat and pointed to a scabbard that hung from the side of the case the sword had come from. It took Martin just a minute to sheathe his sword and to fasten the belt around his waist. His hand remained on the hilt of the sword.

Once the weapon was safely at his side, Amareth felt a bit more at ease. She realized that Martin could quite probably draw the sword in the blink of an eye, so she made no sudden moves.

"Martin, I intended to sell you the cloak, trousers, and shirt for your party and send you on your way. I think that things have changed and we need to investigate. Will you come with me?" At Martin's brief nod, she walked to the back of the store and opened her sliding door. She gestured for him to walk through and she joined him once he was through.

"From your behavior, I can see that you have accepted some of the unusual things that have been happening. I doubt that I could separate you from that sword and you would experience a lot of difficulties if you tried to carry it with you in your normal life. I am going to take you to my father’s kingdom so that we can determine what has happened."

Martin's invisible companion confirmed what Amareth said and indicated its willingness to cooperate. Martin agreed and tried to stand more at ease, sensing that she was uncomfortable with his sword.

She turned to the door again and slid it open to reveal a large reception hall instead of the much smaller store space they had just left. Spaced around each side of the room were doors, some looking like standard entry doors and others the size of garage doors. There were portraits and banners on the walls above the doors. Martin looked on with narrowed eyes, accepting the strangeness, but obviously wanting an explanation at the same time.

Amareth looked at him and said solemnly, “You have become part of a larger world, Martin Brady, whether you are ready for it or not. Walden could not hurt me while I was in the shop, the wards I cast in the store would have prevented him from even touching me. But he could have done a great deal of damage before my father’s men would have arrived. If he could have gotten me outside of the shop, he could have taken my portal key.” She held up a small disk that was suspended as a pendant around her neck. “He could have sold this key to my father’s enemies and they would have been able to come here unchallenged.”

‘What she says is true,’ his sword said. ‘Now that you carry me, every doorway has the potential to lead you somewhere else. Others can only transit between established portals, but we can create our own at will.’ Martin found that knowledge interesting, but he could see that it was the kind of information that he should be very careful about sharing. There was also information that he was going to want to know as well. Like who was ‘We?’

She led him out of the reception hall and through corridors that changed their character from stark stone to ones that had more paintings and tapestries hung on them. Amareth stopped at an open door through which they could see what appeared to be an apartment.

“These are guest rooms,” Amareth said as she turned to Martin. “We are in the residential wing of the palace right now and I would like you to stay here while I report to my father about what has happened.” She smiled at him and her eyes seemed to sparkle as she said somewhat apologetically, “You are going to need to prepare for an audience.”

Martin just looked into the room and back to Amareth. Enough strange things had taken place that he was not sure that he wanted to take anything at face value. “I have to admit that it doesn’t look like a jail cell. Are you going to lock the door once I’m in there?”

The completely shocked expression on Amareth’s face said that the idea had not even crossed her mind. “No! You are completely safe here. You are a guest, not a prisoner.” She stopped for a moment and then held her open hand up. “I give you my word that I mean you no harm and that you are among friends.”

‘She has given you her binding word. You have nothing to fear by trusting her.’

Martin smiled at her and held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I understand. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“I know that everything seems strange to you and you have no reason to trust me. If you like, just leave the door to the corridor open. I will send someone to you with refreshments. I will report to my father and I will come back. It is just easier if you remain here rather than roam the castle.”

Martin nodded in agreement, what she was saying made sense. She returned his nod and he watched her walk down the hall. She moved smoothly, almost floating along the floor. Once she was gone, Martin stepped into the room and closed the door. With her assurance that he was not a prisoner and the statement from whatever inhabited his sword, he really was not worried about being stuck here. He decided to take the opportunity to get to know his new companion.

He unbuckled the sheath on his belt and drew the sword. Before he could take a seat in an armchair, there was a knock at the door and a young boy entered with a tray of fruit and pitcher of water. Idly, Martin wondered if the boy were really as young as he looked. Considering what he had already learned from Amareth’s appearance, he knew that appearances were definitely deceiving.

He took a seat in at the table instead to make it easier to eat and drink. Then he focused his attention on his sword.

“Who are you?” was the first and most obvious question he had.

‘That is easy to explain, but it can be difficult to understand,’ was the answer. ‘To put it in terms that will make the most sense to you is that I am a magic sword and you are a part of me. My name is Mithkandin. Thousands of years ago, I was a god of battle.’

Martin’s eyes went wide. The thoughts that went through his head were, ‘A cursed sword!’ and ‘I’m part of it?’

‘No, Martin. And yes at the same time,’ Mithkandin’s thought seemed to convey both amusement and sympathy. ‘In all of my years before I bound my essence into this weapon, I never encountered a truly cursed sword. The curse comes from the bearer being unwilling to discard the weapon rather than being unable to do so.’

“So I can put you down and nothing will happen to me?” Martin asked carefully.

‘Yes, exactly that. I promise you that a time will come when you will decide to do just that. I have had candidates who have dropped me the moment I spoke to them and others when they found out what it means to carry me.

‘I will not lie to you,’ the sword told him. ‘To carry me is a great responsibility. You will find yourself to be both a target and a magnet for anyone who would either serve you or use you.’

“You mean they will kill me to take you?” Martin felt a jolt of fear at the thought that he would have to defend himself constantly.

‘You can be killed, but it will take power similar to one of your nuclear weapons,’ the sword said, plucking information from Martin’s thoughts. ‘You are almost immortal while we are joined.’

“Really?” Martin thought that sounded pretty good until the sword continued.

‘Yes. You cannot be killed by conventional means and you will live a much longer life than you normally would. However, you will find that a long life is not always desirable. It can become very lonely when you outlive friends and relatives. I have seen it happen more than once and it is usually why I change hands.’

That brought the thought of a cursed sword back to mind and Martin felt somewhat sorry for himself. What did he do to have been saddled with this fate?

Mithkandin again picked up on his thoughts. ‘I was in the princess’ shop for a very long time and I encountered many men and women. None of them were what I considered to be worthy.’ It paused as if allowing Martin to consider what had been said. ‘I chose you because you had the heart and integrity that was required and I sensed an undefinable quality that was important as well. In addition, you would not have sought out the responsibility of carrying me if you had been aware of it.

‘You will always have the ability to put me down,’ Mithkandin reiterated. ‘Now that you and I are bound, I cannot desert you, regardless of how I am used.’

While Martin’s mind was completely open to Mithkandin, the exchange did not work both ways, at least not yet. The god in the sword was telling most of the truth in that Martin could put him down whenever he desired and that Mithkandin could leave him.

However, the sword actually was capable of severing their relationship if Martin abused the power he had been given. Mithkandin had already determined that Martin possessed that undefinable factor that had made him the ideal candidate to be the sword-bearer. It felt that is was safe to lie about this to Martin as the sword did not expect to ever break the oath it had just made.

“I’m sorry, but I have a real problem with the fact that you say you are a god. That is against what I believe.” It was the personal ethics and morals of the candidate that often caused them to disqualify themselves and Mithkandin could only address those concerns. If Martin declined Mithkandin’s invitation and offer, it would have to continue searching.

‘Yes, I already know that,’ Mithkandin said. ‘However, there is a great difference between a god and a deity.’ There was a pause before Mithkandin continued, almost as if he were gathering his thoughts. ‘My story starts thousands of years ago, with a raiding party telling stories around a campfire. Stories about an unseen helper of hunters and soldiers. Those stories gave soldiers confidence in themselves and battles went well. Over the years, the stories became epics and more soldiers believed in them.

‘Eventually, whole armies were praying to that unseen being for help in their upcoming battles and the result was increased luck or fortune during a battle. That led to more people praying and improved results during their battles.

‘Over time, those prayers caused their war god to become a real entity and to have real powers. I walked among them for a very long time and continued to gain in power. Eventually, every race reaches a point where their battles have all been fought and they tire of conflict. It is also true that those times of peace cannot last. When it became apparent that I was no longer needed, I imbued this sword with my essence until such time as I might be needed again.’

The thought of war and the associated death and destruction was enough to turn his stomach. To know that he was now linked to something that celebrated these things was even worse.

‘Martin,’ Mithkandin said. He had to repeat himself to break through Martin’s shock. ‘Martin! There is much more involved in battle than just killing.”

Once Mithkandin had Martin’s attention, he continued. ‘Warfare is only a minor part of a battle. While I have participated in and orchestrated many battles of different sizes over the thousands of years that I have existed, I have worked as an advisor to heads of state, ambassadors, and military leaders to resolve conflicts peacefully.

‘That is the preferred manner of battle. It is no less a battle, but far more preferable to destroying living things. I believe that you will be an excellent statesman Martin.’

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Martin resheathed the sword before he opened the door to find an older man outside. It was obvious that this was a citizen of Fairie as he seemed to be unnaturally tall and thin. His pale complexion, very blonde hair, and grey eyes almost made him look like a ghost. His face was expressionless as he looked down at Martin.

He stared back at the tall man for a moment before Martin said, “Yes, can I help you?” That was all he intended to say though. The vibe he was getting said that he had no respect for Martin and Martin had no intention of letting it rattle him. It became a test of wills to see who would cave in first as they both stood looking at the other.

Martin kept the smile that he was feeling off his face. He knew that the burden was on the stranger to do something or take some kind of action, all he had to do was wait. The standoff lasted for only a minute before the newcomer gave in.

“My name is Randolf, Mr. Brady. King Thanguron has asked me to assess you and your sword prior to meeting with you. Would you come with me to my workroom?” His manner was one who thought that Martin was inferior to him and he really did not want anything to do with him.

Martin considered refusing to accompany him, but that course of action was petty and unproductive. Instead, he nodded and stepped into the corridor. There were no words exchanged as Martin followed Randolf through several adjoining hallways before entering an open area with tables and shelf units spaced around the room. It gave every impression of a research laboratory, the only thing missing were the computers and the microscopes.

“What is your function here, Randolf,” Martin asked, partly from curiosity and also because he needed to know who he was dealing with.

“I am the King’s lead scientist and alchemist. I am knowledgeable in general science and many aspects of magic. I assess magic weapons and newcomers before they are seen by the King.”

Randolf looked at Martin for a moment before gesturing to a seat at one of the tables. Martin looked around as he took the offered seat. Everything around him had an organic feel to it, except the stone walls. And they were actual stones in mortar. Nothing said new or mass-produced.

‘You are among friends,’ the sword told him. ‘I have been watching for a long time and there is much I will teach you. This man only wants to make sure that you and I are not a danger.’

‘Definitely not Kansas,’ Martin thought to himself wryly. There was a sense of amusement from his sword. He looked back to Randolf and said, “So, if you are a magic researcher, does that mean that you are a wizard?”

Randolf’s expression turned a bit sour and brightened again. “No. The term would be mage because I am an elf. A human magic-user would call themselves a wizard.” He answered with some pride in his voice and there seemed to be a sense of condescension at the same time.

‘Elves have always felt themselves superior to the other races,’ Martin’s sword told him. ‘Do not worry. The fact that you are now my wielder is a source of fear for this person. Do not be afraid to tell him what he wants to know. No one can separate us and we are more powerful than they can imagine.’

Martin’s expression had become rather vacant while he communed with the sword at his side. When his conversation finished, he returned to the here-and-now with a couple of blinks. He looked back to Randolf and smiled.

“How can I help you?” he said.

At Randolf's request, he drew the sword and held it in both hands before him to display it. Martin's grasp never left the pommel. Martin and Randolf embarked upon a research session that seemed to last for hours, broken only occasionally for a nature break or refreshment. Martin described how he had first encountered Donnel, been led to Amareth’s curio shop, and the confrontation with Walden. Randolf was particularly intense upon the sequence of events that had taken place.

Then they moved on to the fact that Martin seemed to be in communication with the sword. Randolf had assumed that Martin was a wandering soul that had attached itself to a human. It now appeared that he was dealing with a human who had become the wielder of a magic weapon of some kind. When Randolf heard that Martin held the Sword of Mithkandin, it was enough to actually scare the 500-year-old elf.

Randolf’s questions then segued into demonstrations of what the sword was capable of. It functioned quite well as any sort of close-orders weapon, from a dagger up to a ten-foot pike. In Martin’s hands, it could prove to be deadly against any number of simultaneous opponents. As a distance weapon, it was lacking. While it could take on the form of a bow, Martin’s poor capability as an archer meant that he would need a great deal of practice to be of any danger.

Once they were finished, Randolf escorted Martin back to the rooms Amareth had left him in before and left to report his findings to the King and Queen. He didn’t know what time of day it was around here, but his body felt like he had been on the go for an entire day straight. Mithkandin could probably eliminate his fatigue, but he really was not ready for that as yet. Martin locked to door to his suite and went to bed. Something told him that he was going to need the sleep.

* * * * *

“Well Randolf. What can you tell us about our daughter’s defender?”

King Thanguron, Queen Elaira, and Amareth were seated around a meeting table not far from Randolf’s work rooms. Randolf’s message to them had been urgent and had come just as they were preparing to start the day. The three of them had come directly to the conference room to find the old mage pacing at one end of the room. Amareth had had the presence of mind to ask one of the maids to bring them some breakfast, so they began their breakfast meeting once Randolf settled down.

Randolf had actually shaded the truth regarding his responsibilities to the King. In addition to being the chief mage, he was also the chief advisor to the King and Queen. As such, he felt that he needed to make sure that information he passed on to them was coherent and useful. He had to hesitate for a few moments to marshal his thoughts. On the brief walk from his lab, he had tried to decide upon how he would broach everything that he had discovered and that had gone out the window as he sat down.

He looked up and just threw out his initial bombshell. “Your Majesties, Martin Brady wields a god.”

His audience could only look at him in shock before he continued.

“He apparently bonded with the god Mithkandin when the open wounds on the palm of his hand came into contact with the hilt of the sword and nothing is stronger than a blood bond. He now wields the Sword of Mithkandin.”

Questions came from all three royals. “Who is or was Mithkandin? Are we in any danger? Can’t we just take the sword away from him?”

“Mithkandin was a battle god that existed almost five thousand years ago,” Randolf began. “According to myth and from what Mithkandin itself told me, the races who worshipped that deity reached a point where they could only wage war on themselves and they entered an extended period of peace. As there was no need for a battle god, Mithkandin elected to invest its essence into a battle weapon and allowed itself to disappear until such time as it was needed again.”

Randolf looked at the King with a grave expression as he continued, “From the little experimentation I dared to do, we cannot separate the man and sword without grave cost. The god in the sword tells us that Martin has the ability to fight whole armies and to heal any wound. If what it says is true, we could not even stop them by trying to incinerate them.”

The King nodded gravely, encouraging his chief mage to continue.

“Mithkandin can give its wielder the ability to be a chameleon in the same manner as the sword he carries. That means that he can change his appearance at will. Randolf paused for a moment and said, “There is another matter I should mention. Mithkandin says that it is present because of the kind of person Martin is. It isn’t clear if this as to what that means though. Martin is supposed to be able to willingly discard the sword.” The way Randolf delivered that statement sounded like he wanted to explore that avenue.

When he paused, the King looked closely at Randolf and asked, “What else, Randolf?”

“Sire, I am worried about what will happen if the god decides to manifest itself through Martin. It would be like a god walking on Earth again.”

Amareth and her mother had looks of shock when the possibility of a war god being loose on the world, but it was obvious that the King had already thought that far ahead, and maybe further.

Thanguron sat back in his chair, his arms resting on the table. “I definitely need to speak with him,” he said grimly.

* * * * *

Martin walked beside Randolf down the corridors to a small audience chamber for the King and Queen. The attitude the mage had exhibited since discovering that Martin was more than just a human male was radically different. He was respectful and even a bit solicitous of Martin’s comfort. Martin kept his amusement at Randolf’s change to himself knowing that is was purely because the mage was now afraid of him. He could see that keeping his possession of the sword a secret would be a wise course of action.

He also could see that the best course of action was to always show respect for people. You never knew when you might need an ally and it was easy to turn a potential ally into an enemy or an indifferent bystander with a single rude act. He did his best to show that level of regard to Randolf right now. Even if Randolf might never be in a position to help or hurt him, Martin just was not the kind of person to hurt the other man in some way.

When Randolf had come to his door to tell him that the King wished to see him, it had not been a surprise. Randolf tried to coach him somewhat on how to behave when he was presented to the King and Queen, but it basically came down to just respecting their positions as the people in charge in the land.

They stopped at a door that was just outside of the section in the castle that Martin mentally associated with the residential part of the place. It was obviously a conference room, but a large one. Randolf stopped at the door to allow Martin to enter first. Inside the room were several tables spotted around the room, a couple of them held trays of fruits, breads, and pitchers of juice.

Amareth was seated at a larger table with an older-looking couple. They were dressed in comfortable clothes, but nothing said that this was the royal family. They came to their feet as Martin entered the room, doing their best to look friendly and welcoming. He understood how they felt, it was the same behavior that Randolf was exhibiting.

Martin was still dressed in the jeans and denim shirt that he had arrived in and he wished that he a change of clothes, even the shirt and trousers that Amareth was going to sell to him. He wore Mithkandin on his belt again, not to appear threatening but to keep him close. He smiled at them, trying to look friendly. He approached the royal family and stopped about twelve feet away before bowing slightly to show respect.

King Thanguron returned his bow before he stepped forward to offer his hand to Martin.

“Martin Brady,” the King said. “My daughter has told us that you came to her defense and stood forward to defend her honor.”

Martin acknowledged this with a brief nod of his head before the King continued.

“I know that you did this by inadvertently joining yourself to the essence of the god that is in your sword,” the King continued. “I have no doubt that you are an honorable person because you would not have been considered an acceptable host to carry that sword otherwise.

“I would like to know more about you as a person however. Would you join us?” He waved to the tables of refreshments and the conference table. Once they had all filled their plates, all five of them sat down at the table.

At the King’s request, Martin then told them his life story. It took all of about fifteen minutes. After all, how long does it take to relate two decades of life? When Martin related that he was a college student and studying political science, the King’s smile grew a bit broader. It was obvious that an idea was quickly forming into a full-fledged plan. Martin finally ran down after relating the events that they all had become so intensely knowledgeable of and he spread his hands. He saw no reason to share his exchange with Mithkandin.

“Martin,” the King began. “I will be honest with you and with the god in your sword. The fact that you hold the equivalent of your world’s major weapons scares me. Even though you assure us that we are in no danger from you, I would like to know what your intentions are.”

The question was not one that Martin or even Mithkandin had been prepared to answer and Martin had to sit back and think.

“Sir, I don’t know,” Martin said. “I’m still getting used to the fact that a world I thought was strictly fantasy really exists. I can tell you that I do not want to cause trouble. I want to set your mind at ease though. Mithkandin tells me that diplomacy and advising statesmen is just as much a part of battle as actual combat. War might be a necessary part of civilization, but it is a final resort.”

The King nodded when he heard Martin’s statement and the others relaxed somewhat as well.

“I’m glad to hear that. Now, I am speaking to you and to the god in your sword.” His eyes narrowed. “I know that it will be very difficult and costly to attempt to separate you. You and I need to come up with some way for us to be comfortable with Mithkandin’s return to the world. If we cannot, it could mean the end of our civilizations.”

* * * * *

The music was typically loud for a college function, but the noise was concentrated more at one end of the big room. That was where the young adults who wanted to dance were clustered. The tables and refreshments were located at the other end, away from the band.

Martin ordered the drinks from girl behind the counter and passed over the drink tickets. Amareth was seated at one of the table, waiting for him and his eyes never left her. As it turned out, he did not need to worry about impressing the college girls or the fact that he would be attending the party alone. He was now Amareth’s unofficial official escort when she was away from the boundaries of her parent’s kingdom.

When Martin had explained to King Thanguron and Queen Elaira that Mithkandin was not a blood-thirsty instrument of war, but that it’s focus was upon the health and safety of its allies. That had given Amareth’s parents and their advisor the idea of getting Mithkandin to agree to be her advisor.

Mithkandin told Martin later that this was a solution that it much preferred. The sword did not wish to bond with the leader of a country or kingdom as that lead to possible corruption at some point, but it felt that Thanguron’s kingdom was an excellent bastion of humanity and equality. It had also pointed out to Martin that just because it was called a battle god did not mean that promoting prolonged peace was not a preferable way of life.

Thanguron had explained to Martin that Amareth had been operating the curiosity shop where they met mainly as something for her to do. Her parents had not been happy with it, but her older brother and two older sisters were already active in affairs of state and she had argued that she could do much for the kingdom by being among the general populace. The incident with Walden had not been the first and this last confrontation had reached a new level so Amareth’s operation of the shop would have to come to an end. A decision that Amareth reluctantly agreed made sense.

Instead, Amareth would be expected to accept some of the same responsibilities that her sisters had. Martin’s presence with Mithkandin presented them all with some interesting options and opportunities to allow Amareth to be a representative to more distant kingdoms, lands, and realms. That is, if Martin and Mithkandin would be willing to be her advisors, guides, and bodyguards.

Thus, Martin and, of course, Mithkandin accepted a post that Mithkandin had wanted anyway. They had even accepted the limitations placed upon them by becoming blood-bond to support and defend the kingdom. It went without saying that Amareth would be defended by Mithkandin to the same level as it did Martin.

Even though it was not an affair of state, Martin found himself escorting Amareth to the Halloween party that had started him down this path. She had insisted upon accompanying back to his own realm for this function and to allow him to close out his responsibilities smoothly. When Amareth was staying at the castle with her parents, Martin would not always be required and he would be able to return home to visit his mother. When he and Amareth were traveling as part of her duties, Martin could be gone for extended periods.

Martin still smiled when he and Amareth had stopped by his home to tell his mother that he had accepted a job as a guide for an out-of-town organization and that he might be travelling with them on occasion as a helper. She had been very happy for him, but he was not sure if it was because he had a job better than being a dishwasher, the little stack of gold coins he had put down on the table in front of her, or because she thought that Amareth as somehow his girlfriend.

The thought of Amareth as a girlfriend was nice, but he was sure that scenario was off the table. He was human, while she was an elf. He was a run-of-the-mill commoner, while she was royalty. Of course, the fact that he carried a magic sword was a point in his favor.