The pain in Book's shoulder was blinding. Again, he tried to scream in pain and frustration, but the pathetic sound was lost in his throat. Nailed to the wall by his own sword, his mind raced. His vampire assailant walked patiently back and forth, barely disturbing the paper and other litter that had been strewn around the library floor. Book could feel the rage building up behind his eyes.

The vampire was a horrible sight. His fingernails still looked more like wolf claws than anything else, and when he began ranting at Book, the vampire began to get an almost feral crazed look on his face. His words were a mere drone in the background. Book had tuned them out an hour ago. The sword in Book's shoulder was the only thing on his mind right now, and he tried in vain to block out the pain so he could rationally think about his current situation. He realized that unless he acted soon, he would die here. He looked around the scene as best he could.

He saw the dilapidated structure with its faux gothic styling. He noticed the literature strewn like leaves across the floor. 'There are worse places to die, I guess.' The Sluagh in him found it fitting that he would probably die here amidst all this forgotten lore. But the particular Sluagh within him, the soul that seemed to piggyback his own, forbade him from giving up. Not while there was such a perplexing riddle to be solved. Alexi of the 13 Toes forbid his current incarnation to die.

Before Book realized what he was, he had always thought the idea of reincarnation as a quaint and potentially interesting concept. Once he went through his change and knew that he was Sluagh, Book understood that the rebirth of souls was a fact of life. And when memories of centuries past began permeating both his sleeping and waking minds, he began to realize that he was something more than he had ever expected. He was a legend. He was powerful. And he could feel that power welling up inside while he watched the vampire walk back and forth. Book was still learning all that Alexi could do. He often wondered if somehow Alexi was parceling out abilities to him at a rate he could understand.

Right now, however, Book could feel Alexi surging within him. It was like a dam getting ready to burst. The vampire noticed a change in Book's demeanor, and was demanding to know what he was doing. Book simply ignored him. He felt removed from the scene. As the surge of power from Alexi of the 13 Toes filled Book, he became strangely calm. And determined.

Book took half an instant to collect his thoughts before he acted. The sword was thrust from his shoulder, piercing the vampire through the throat. Book stepped from against the wall to strike the vampire, but the confused undead tried to run. Book willed himself in front of the vampire, and was there. He reached out with one of his frail arms, and gripped the vampire by the wrist. With apparently no effort, Book pivoted, throwing the vampire across the room. The vampire crashed clear through one of the old bookshelves, splintering it before he hit the ground and spun to regain his footing. Book reached out with his mind, and grabbed the bookshelf as a whole, now blasted across the room. Not even taking a breath to resolve himself, Book willed the bookshelf back to where it began. A rain of splintered wood converged on the vampire, impaling him on all sides. Book, no Alexi thought back to all of the undead that had hurt him and his kind over his centuries of experience, and began concentrating his fury as he gently closed his eyes. He let it build into a white hot flame of hatred. The entire world seemed to hold its breath as Book/Alexi opened his eyes again. As his gaze fell on the vampire, the horrid thing looked back with complete understanding of what was about to happen and screamed. All of the rage built up in the fae's eyes rushed out into the room and focussed on the vampire. Without fanfare or explanation, the vampire burst into flames and hit the ground, writhing in violent agony.

Book felt the strength and hatred of Alexi begin to fade, and in the light of the dying vampire, Book collapsed onto the floor.

-

Bright light hit Book's eyes. Groggy and in pain, a flash of images came back to him. The library, the fight with the vampire, loosing himself in Alexi, and the fire that ended that vampire's unlife all came back to him in a flurry of sounds and pictures. The unknown bright light made Book squint again. The fire! Book bolted upright, and immediately collapsed backwards again as pain in his shoulder exploded through his chest and blurred his vision. Forced into a more manageable calm by his discomfort, Book slowly opened his eyes.

He was lying in a wooded clearing beneath a large elm tree as large clouds from a painting he'd seen broke up the brilliant sunlight that filtered through the leaves. There were bedrolls and minimalist camping gear around the clearing. His chest hurt terribly, but he managed to sit upright. He saw about a half-dozen men and women around the campsite, and immediately understood where he was.

Beneath the shade of another tree, a muscular, horned woman who was probably over eight feet tall, sat polishing an enormous battleaxe. A single bead of sweat ran down her brow, making her blue skin shine for a moment. Off to her left was a much shorter man, maybe four feet tall, who had begun cleaning up the camp site. Book knew he was in the Dreaming, the land of the fae. The Dreaming had many depths, and by the look of the relatively normal looking forest around him, Book surmised he was within the Near Dreaming, the part which almost perfectly mirrored the mundane world.

Book took note of the other Changelings in the camp. Aside from the Troll and the Boggan, Book saw a Satyr lacing leather armor to his hairy goat legs, an Eshu meditating calmly despite the layers of draped cloth over his body, and a Nocker grumbling as he gathered his bizarre tools. None of them seemed to notice that Book was awake yet. Book was sure he saw a sixth fae a moment ago. He turned gingerly to get a better view, and almost yelped as he came nose to nose with a huge squirrel-like face.

When Book tried to jump back, the pain dropped him again, and the world spun. A moment later, the furry face he saw came into view again. This time he could see more of the figure. He and saw an incredibly svelte young woman with a bushy tail, tiny claws on her lightly furred fingers, and what Book had to admit was a remarkably cute face despite the fact that it looked like one of those morphed animal-people pictures he'd seen at a mall one time. It was a Pooka, one of the fae shapeshifters, forever tied to a particular animal affinity. The Pooka are also, Book remembered, compulsive liars. Not that they don't like telling the truth. They are incapable of it. In his dealings with vampire clans, Book had come to the conclusion that even the psychotic Malkavians were easier to interact with.

The young Pooka looked at him straight in the eyes, and a second later began laughing hysterically. This got the attention of the rest of the camp, and they began getting up and approaching Book to see what was so funny. Book tried to shy away from them. Something in the Alexi part of his brain made him uneasy around his own kind. The Pooka leapt to her feet and addressed her companions.

"He will not make it! We have failed our brother." She cried out. "I disbelieve. For the interruption to our quest was surely not worth it. Our original intent is far more important than any news he brings." The Troll seemed terribly confused, and looked as if she was about to ask a question, but her fellows all seemed to take this in stride so she kept her mouth shut. Book shared her confusion, but before he could voice it, the Eshu approached him.

"Good morning, friend." The Eshu spoke in the even, melodious tones of someone born to be a bard. "You've a nasty wound there. We weren't sure if you were going to pull through. It looks as though being here has helped, though. Can you stand?" The Eshu began helping Book to his feet. Book, however, was speechless. Even when he wasn't dealing with vampires on whatever research project seemed most interesting, he was unused to politeness from strangers. With the sturdy man's help, though, Book was able to stand despite his wound.

"Thank you," Book whispered. "I don't even know your names, but I feel I might owe you my life. And you're right, it does feel good to be back surrounded by so much Glamour."

"Think nothing of it. My name is Kelwynn. I am leading this expedition. What is your name, quiet one?"

"Most know me as Book. Tell me, where were you intending to go? I hope rescuing me wasn't too much of an inconvenience."

"Coming to the aid of a fellow fae is never too much of an inconvenience." The Eshu spoke as honestly as anyone Book had ever heard. "And in fact, we were only a day and a half out of Cambria up the coast, and passing just outside of Los Angeles when Selene told us about the danger you were in." At the mention of her name, the lively Pooka grinned widely and waved at Book. The Eshu continued. "We're on our way to Atlanta, Georgia in the Kingdom of Willows. Would you care to join us for a time?" Before Book could answer, Kelwynn pressed the point. "You're in no condition to continue your previous adventure on your own, and we still haven't figured out the significance you might present to our efforts."

Book was trying to reconstruct a map of the Dreaming's trods, the magickal roads that made travel in the DreamLands feasible. "You'll be taking the trod of the Endless Horizon?" Book asked, remembering the powerful road that stretched clear across the United States.

"At least until we get to the Appalachians." Kelwynn knew that the discussion was pretty much over, so he turned to his fellows. "Alright everyone, we move out in twenty minutes! By the way," he said, turning back to Book with a broad smile, "good to have you with us." The Eshu then joined the others in packing up the remaining supplies.

Book gingerly tested his range of motion in his shoulder. In general, the fae heal much faster than mundane humans, and being in the Dreaming would speed that process, but he was still in a great deal of pain. Book tried to console himself that he'd probably be completely healed in four or five days, however, that knowledge didn't make his shoulder feel any better.

-

The trod of the Endless Horizon cuts a nearly straight line from Los Angeles, California to Chincoteague Island just south of Ocean City, Maryland on the Atlantic Coast. Most first-time travelers on the road conclude that the arrow-straight course of the trod is a banal influence of the mundane world. Those fae who traverse the Dreaming more often know better. The Endless Horizon is the primary route from east to west, and its lack of turns and twists serves as a reminder to travelers that this is the only true safe place in this area of the Dreaming. A changeling on the road knows that if the trod seems to contain turns in its course, he has wandered off the path and is now at the mercy of the Dream-Logic within this reality.

Book spent the first few days of the journey watching the interactions of his new companions, trying to figure out the functions each of them served in the group. The Eshu, Kelwynn, was obviously the leader of the band, but also served as the bard of the group, telling stories and singing songs around the evening campfires. Selene, the Pooka, with her seemingly limitless energy and enthusiasm was the scout of the group, despite the fact that only Kelwynn seemed able to make sense of her reports. The Eshu was also the only member of this motley who was able to understand the various visions that she had and began ranting about nearly every morning. From Book's understanding, she seemed to be trying to convince Kelwynn that they were going to have to change the focus of their quest, but the Eshu was skeptical.

The other members of the group also had dual functions. The Troll, Catherine, was the general warrior and navigator, possessing a deep and impressive knowledge of the route. Jensen, the aloof Satyr, oddly served as both the field medic and master bladesman. The Nocker, referred to as Fiddletwiss, was the master craftsman and scribe, alternately tinkering with various contraptions and gear he had stowed in his pack, and keeping a wonderfully detailed account of the events of the journey.

The Boggan Arthur, however, was the fae with whom Book spent most of his time. While being the cook and man-about-camp, Arthur was also the resident historian of the group and possessed a vast array of knowledge concerning the lore of the changelings.

Several days into the trip, Book sat with Arthur by the evening fire discussing the perplexing riddle that had taken him to L.A. in the first place. At one point, after a necessary pause while the Boggan carefully prepared and then lit his pipe, he voiced his conclusion on the mystery.

"My apologies, friend. I have never heard of this Marsil. However, the ways of the Vampires are all mysteries to our kind, and better left as such. What do we care about one more detail concerning their kind that we fail to understand." He paused to puff thoughtfully on the long pipe. "However, you have explained the implied importance of this thing. Perhaps," puff "our young Selene could be of use in this riddle with her visions." The Pooka, who seemed to be in all parts of the camp at once, came skipping over at the sound of her name.

After a great deal of explaining the situation, Selene apparently agreed to try to have a vision about the Marsil. Preparations for her attempt took the better part of an hour, at which time she climbed into a strange yoga position and closed her eyes. Her boundless energy over the past few days was quickly forgotten as she remained as still as stone for well over twenty minutes. Kelwynn sat down beside Book and quickly explained that the Pooka's penchant for untruths was forgotten while she was relating a vision, but she tended to speak in confusing rhymes instead. Then, without preamble she began speaking.

"I am blind.

the marsil flew on wings of light
determined by a holy might
invisible to kindred sight
illuminated by their plight

for eons thus the marsil flew
waiting for the good and true
summoned forth when suf'ring grew
summoned thus to hope renew

the marsil flew to ease the pain
felt in ev'ry mortal vein
cleansing no one of their blame
though neither bringing judgement's flame

but childer grow, and lands of lore
are shattered by the rape of war
and tides of time lap on the shore
of lands where men forget why the marsil flies no more"

Then, without warning, Selene stopped speaking, opened her eyes, and collapsed backwards. Jensen sprang over to her and gently picked her up. "I'll look after her, Kel."

The Eshu nodded to his medic and rubbed his brow as he and the rest of the assembled fae tried to make sense of Selene's cryptic poem. After a while he stood and stretched his arms and back. "Book, will you join me for a drink while we discuss this? Arthur, I'd like your input as well." The three walked over to a secluded area of camp while the rest tended to their nightly chores.

Kelwynn sat down on a flat rock protruding from the ground and pulled out a copper flask. He offered it to Book and turned to Arthur who had taken out his pipe again and was meticulously fiddling with it. "Arthur, what do you think?"

"Well," he paused to prop the pipe in his mouth while he drew out various pouches of tobacco. "I believe that its obvious we're dealing with something of mythic proportions concerning the vampires." He turned to Book. "Tell me, are you familiar with the concept of Golconda?"

Book passed the flask back to the Eshu before speaking in his characteristic whisper. "If I remember correctly, isn't it a myth the vampires have about reaching some kind of enlightened state? Do you think this Marsil has something to do with that?"

"Not directly, no. Where Golconda is a spiritual state and change in the vampire, I think that the Marsil is more of a physical change. Selene spoke of the 'Kindred plight' and their 'mortal veins'." The Boggan paused to cram a wad of stuff into the pipe. "I don't know what exactly you've gotten yourself involved in, my friend, but I think that it is something that we might definitely want to aid them in achieving."

Kelwynn put down the flask and spoke up. "Now hold on just a minute. These are vampires we're talking about! I remember some myths about them too!" The Eshu stood up and began pacing for emphasis. "How about the legend that says that if a fae even touches a vampire, the banality-ridden fucks will burn you to your core?"

"I can vouch for the fact that that one isn't true." Book whispered meekly. "So what do you think?"

"Before we decide to help them at all…" Kel paused to contemplate the end of his sentence. "Before we decide, we need to find out which of these myths are true. We need to know how badly this will affect us."

Book looked up at the Eshu. "Um… I know a way."

-

"Are you absolutely sure about this?" Kelwynn Daringer voiced the thoughts of his entire group. The weary travel-worn motley stood near the center of Manhattan Island, looking up at the monolithic Chrysler Building which jutted, unbeknownst to the humans that lived and worked nearby, from the heart of the most expansive faery Freehold in the entire world. Goblintown.

"For the last time, yes. And I know what I'm doing." Book was nowhere near as sure as he sounded, but he knew that the group had only agreed to come to this architectural nightmare on his own assurance that he had everything under control. Goblintown was the creation of a legendary Nocker, Dr. Tapp. The entire freehold was a piece of clock-work architecture, meaning that over the course of a year, the very walls and hallways shifted and changed. The end result was that no matter how often you visited the site, the internal geography would never be the same.

And then there were the traps. Book shuddered and tried to think of anything else but the damned traps of Goblintown. It was a contest between the insidious residents there. They would construct traps and puzzles that would be used in the defense of the city. The twisted part, however, is that they told no one [not even their friends] how to solve them. They would go on grand outings to tour their own freehold, specifically looking for the traps. And each time a puzzle or trap was found, the designer would sit back with pride while the assembled party would attempt to solve it all the while wondering if the penalty for failure was a guillotine or a pie in the face.

Book knew a few of the Nocker residents of Goblintown, and was even close friends with many of them. He was just hoping that he could find some of them and get out before anything disastrous occurred. Book had chosen which entrance to use with care. The party climbed into and descended, via a spiral staircase, down a hidden compartment inside a seemingly abandoned and magickally sealed dumpster on East 44th Street. The massive freehold was so populous, that groups of Nockers bound by ties of family and friendship had staked out and formed distinct neighborhoods beneath the streets of Midtown Manhattan. The entrance located within a dumpster was the calling card of an old associate of Book's.

At the bottom of the stairs, a mahogany door opened into a posh hallway. Book recognized the décor immediately as typical Goblintown. Brass fixtures and trimmings gave highlights to mahogany and oak walls. The wood-paneled floor was covered in most places by lush oriental rugs. Colored light filtered down from unseen sources and through stained-glass ceilings. Paintings that should have been hanging in the Louvre adorned the walls. 'At least they haven't changed their style.' He mused to himself.

The group Book was hoping to find in this part of Goblintown were known as the Watcher's. Book had this group in mind for their addiction to be aware of all comings and goings within the freehold. Thus, with luck, they'd find Book before he had to look far to find them. After twenty minutes of wandering though, he was beginning to doubt his plan. Upon reaching a disheartening intersection of no less than seven hallways, the group heard a quiet whisper.

"This way." A childish giggle followed the suggestion. The whole party turned to face the sound, and found themselves looking at the only blank wall in the room. Another giggle broke the silence. "That's right. This way." Kelwynn stepped forward and reached out his hand. It passed through the wall. "Yes, that's right. Keep going." The young voice encouraged. Kelwynn Daringer and the whole of his motley took a collective deep breath and walked through the wall.

A hallway that looked nearly identical to the one they had come from stretched out in front of them. Equally distressing was the fact that the illusionary wall they had all casually walked through was now very solid and very real. Book took a few tentative steps down the corridor, and his fellows followed suit. Suddenly a horrible grinding metal sound cascaded around them and a heavy metal gate fell down before them, blocking their route. Before a cry of warning could be shouted, an identical gate fell down behind them. Book tried to shout to his companions, but the sudden silence made up for his inability to do so.

"Don't move! Don't touch anything until we find out the rules to the riddle." Book's raspy whisper hung in the air.

"Rules?! It's a riddle, not a game," argued Kel.

"Look around at the walls." Book didn't wait for a response before carefully looking at the walls to either side. He quickly found what he was looking for. Several glyphs and crude drawings showed the penalties for anyone who tried to force the gates. Book was impressed with the detail of the stick-figure corpses towards to bottom of the wall.

A voice, thick with the reverberations of an echo began intoning a rhyme, as dozens of children's letter-blocks on long cords began dropping from the ceiling around the heads of the confused motley.

"My first is in blue, but not in glue.
My second in old, but not in new.
My third in look, but not in see.
My last in ask, but not in plea.
My whole has leaves, but not a flower.
T'will help you pass an idle hour."

Book smiled at the old English riddle, and knew he had found his friends, but not before they found him. He carefully picked through the blocks, looking for the letters that spelled out his own common name. He continued grinning as he found and pulled three strings, but the moment he finished, his smile turned to an expectant grimace of impending pain as he saw the metal grates to either side sit firmly in place and the floor open downward.  
 
 

End of chapter three