The man who called himself Harlequin was drifting
through the void.  Here, at the edge of consciousness, where
the realm of dreams began, he was in his element.  Ishido
was reduced to less than a whisper inside his mind, easily
ignored.  The others were even less consequential; rarely
did they ever speak to him.

	They'd learned that he didn't listen.  Why trouble
himself with ghosts and pale shadows?

	But there was a problem.  The Magician's dreams were
hidden from his sight.  Had she truly learned so much, so
soon?  Enough to keep out him, who had walked the paths of
dreams for more years than she had spent on the earth?

	Or... was it simply a camouflage trick?

	Harlequin's chill smile spread as he delved deeper into
the dreamtime.

			*		*		*

			Arcana
			started by Scott Schimmel

			Chapter Twelve:
			What Dreams May Come

			by Scott Schimmel

			*		*		*

	Once upon a time, there was a kingdom at the edge of
the world.  This was long ago, of course, when the earth was
still flat, when dragons still ruled the skies, when witches
and wizened sages hoarded their hard-won wisdom in the
distant places, the mountains and the moors, the most remote
isles and the deepest, darkest forests, all those places
where no men but the most valiant or most desperate dared
tread.  It was a magical kingdom, and all of its people were
magicians.  Some were great and powerful wizards, and some
knew only a single spell, but all could take pride in the
fact:  they were magicians.

	All but one, that is.  For in this magic kingdom there
lived a girl.  She had hair of spun gold and eyes of deeper
blue than the finest sapphire.  She had beauty, grace,
strength, and courage, though she did not yet realize this
herself.  But she did not have magic.

	The girl's name was Natasha.  This is her story.

	Natasha had lived alone in the magic kingdom for as
long as she could remember.  Her parents had vanished when
she was very young, so very young that she had no memories
of them.  The people in her village had taken pity on the
orphaned child, and they had looked after her and raised her
as best they could.  But as she had grown older, her lack of
magic had become ever more apparent, and the people had
become ever less willing to associate with her, fearing her
powerlessness as a bad omen.

	If the adults grew distant, the other children became
outright cruel.  Those who had been her friends abandoned
her, one by one, until finally only one, a small girl with
curly brown hair and a bright smile, remained by her side. 
Even this did not last, for, on her tenth birthday, the
brown-haired girl was visited by the king's minister, who
took her away with him without even time for a goodbye.  And
so Natasha came to be alone once more.

	It was six years from that day, on her sixteenth
birthday, that Natasha decided:  she must learn what had
happened to her parents.  That very day, she packed what
little she could claim as her own into a bag, and she set
out for the castle, to petition the king.

	Now, the king of this realm was a wise, kindly soul,
and he would grant an audience to even the poorest peasants. 
Natasha soon came before him, and he listened closely to her
story, but in the end, he could only shake his head.  "I
fear I cannot help you, child," he said.  "I know nothing of
your parents, and they disappeared so long ago, we wouldn't
know where to begin to look for them."

	"Is there nothing that can be done?" asked Natasha.

	The king thought for a minute, and then he spoke. 
"There may be a way.  In the center of the Moukouton Forest,
there lives an old man.  He was once renowned as a scholar
and magician, but he long ago retired to live there in
solitude.  If any man could tell you of your parents, he
would be the one."  And as Natasha clapped her hands
together in joy, he admonished, "Do not be so hasty, child. 
It would be very dangerous.  Even the greatest knights of
the kingdom would think twice about undertaking this
journey.  The forest is a place of dark magic, and those who
do not know it well may easily find themselves lost inside
it forever."

	But Natasha would not be swayed by the king's warnings. 
Reluctantly, he called for his adviser, the court magician. 
The magician, a woman wrapped from head to toe in the
concealing brown robes of her office, listened to Natasha's
story, then handed her a map.  In a soft whisper, she
offered a few words of advice:  "Stay always on the path,
and do not eat any fruit or drink any water while you are
within the forest."

	The journey there was an arduous one, for the forest
was in the distant reaches of the realm, and no roads led
there.  However, when Natasha saw the forest itself, it made
the trip seem like a walk around her village.  The forest
was immense, with enormous lichen-festooned trees brooding
over tangles of underbrush and thorns.  The canopy of leaves
blocked almost all of the sun's light, shrouding the forest
in a sort of eternal twilight.  There were few animals to be
seen, but the sounds in the foliage suggested that a legion
of creatures invisibly surrounded her.  It was the most
frightening place Natasha had ever seen, yet in she went,
following the barest trace of a path that wended its way
through the ancient growth.

	She was just beginning to relax when she came upon a
fork in the path.  She looked at her map, but it was useless
here; the forest was shown only as one great blob of green. 
She looked down one path, then down the other, trying to
decide which way would lead her to the heart of the forest,
where the old hermit lived.  It seemed impossible to tell,
but if she took the wrong path, she would never reach the
hermit by nightfall.

	Just when she had begun to despair, there came a
fluttering from overhead.  She looked up to see a raven
perched on a branch above her.  "Hello, little friend,"
Natasha said, smiling to herself.  "I don't suppose you know
which way leads to the center of the forest."

	Much to her surprise, the bird replied, "The path to
the right."

	"Why, thank you," Natasha stammered, once she had
recovered from her shock.  She started to walk down that
path, but then she remembered her manners and looked up at
the great black bird.  "You've helped me," she told it.  "Is
there anything I could do to help you?"

	"I am glad you asked," said the raven.  "If you follow
the path to the right, you will soon come to a clearing. 
There is something that you could do for me there, if you
are willing."  Natasha nodded, and the raven flapped down to
perch on her shoulder.

	As the bird had predicted, Natasha soon came to a
clearing.  In the middle of the clearing there lay a great
boulder, easily as long as she was tall, and very flat on
its top.  On top of the boulder lay a long straight sword
with a silver hilt and a glittering edge.

	The raven soared over to the stone and stood beside the
sword.  "If you still wish to repay me," it said, "pick up
the sword and cut off my head."

	Natasha had half lifted the sword before its words
truly registered.  "Cut off your head?" she asked, appalled. 
"How could I do that, after what you've done for me?"

	The raven flapped its wings in agitation.  "Do not
worry about me," it croaked.  "Please, cut off my head."

	Finally, though she still had misgivings, Natasha
lifted the sword high over her head.  It was amazingly light
for such a lot of metal, she thought, as she held it up. 
And then, as it whistled down through the air, she closed
her eyes.  There was only a brief moment of resistance as
the blade connected.

	"Thank you," said a voice that was no longer harsh.

	Natasha opened her eyes and was amazed to find a woman
sitting on the stone.  She had long, lustrous black hair and
dark eyes, and she was dressed all in black.  She smiled at
Natasha and said, "My name is Sara, and I was the king's
champion.  I came here to consult the sage, but I became
lost in the forest.  I was cursed until you broke the
spell."

	Natasha explained a little about her journey, and the
woman smiled again.  "I must return to the court to tell the
king what has befallen.  Keep my sword, kind one; perhaps it
will protect you."  With that, Sara departed.

	Natasha continued down the overgrown forest path, and
soon she reached the banks of a mighty river.  Here, she
hesitated, for there was no bridge, and the water was too
broad to jump.  For a moment, she thought of heading
upstream to find a ford, but then the court magician's
warning about leaving the path came back to her.  She
frowned, standing helplessly on the path.  Surely she
wouldn't have to turn back now.

	Just as she was beginning to despair of finding a
solution, a white doe stepped out of the forest nearby. 
Never before had Natasha seen such a beast, as white as a
new snowfall, and as graceful as a ghost.  "Why, hello
there.  Where did you come from?"

	"That's not important," said the deer.  Natasha was
surprised by this; ravens might be expected to talk, but
deer?  Still, it was a magical forest.  "I can see," the
noble animal continued, "that you're in a bind.  If you'd
like, I'll carry you over the river."

	"Are you sure you wouldn't mind?" she asked.

	"Not at all.  Get on my back," the creature instructed. 
She climbed up awkwardly, for she was not used to riding
horses, let alone deer.  But the animal was calm, steady,
and strong, and it waited until she had seated herself and
found her balance.  Then, with three rapid steps, it
launched itself into the air, clearing the river in a single
powerful leap.

	"Thank you," said Natasha, as she dismounted.  "You've
really helped me.  If there's any way I can help you in
return..."

	"I was hoping you'd ask," it replied.  "Please, take
your sword and cut off my head."

	"Are you sure?" Natasha asked, though she was not at
all surprised this time.  In response, the doe bent its
front legs, lowering its head near the ground.  Natasha
nodded, and the sword flashed through the air again, easily
severing the animal's head.

	And there on the ground knelt another young girl.  This
one had long, flowing locks of hair that fell past her
waist, and her eyes were silver-white.  "Thank you," she
said.  "My name is Miya, and I am a priestess who came to
consult the sage.  But I swallowed some water while trying
to swim across the river, and I was cursed to remain in that
form until you freed me.  I must return to tell of what has
happened, but take my staff with you.  Perhaps it will help
to guide you on your way."  And with that, she handed
Natasha a long, slender staff of smooth wood, the color of
bleached bones.

	"But won't you need this to walk?" she asked.  "I mean,
your eyes--"  Then, fearing that she might have said too
much and offended the priestess, she fell silent.

	But the girl only laughed and answered, "I am not
blind, brave one.  These eyes are only the mark of the gods. 
I pray that they will watch over your journey."  That said,
the priestess departed.

	Natasha continued on her way through the forest,
certain now that she was almost at the very center.  Sure
enough, up ahead she could see a tiny cottage just off the
path.  In her excitement, she began to run up to it, but she
was stopped by a sharp hiss.  Looking down, she was
horrified to see a serpent nearly ten feet long.  She must
have almost stepped on it!  And now its cold, slitted eyes
were watching her intently, as though they might pounce at
any moment.

	"Er, h-hello," said Natasha, trying not to tremble.

	"Hello," said the snake.  Natasha was not surprised at
all, this time.  "Would I be right in guessssing that you
mean to visssit the sssage?"

	"Yes," said Natasha, feeling slightly more at ease. 
"If you'd be so kind as to let me pass..."

	"But thisss isss not the houssse of the sssage," the
snake said.  "Thisss houssse belongsss to a witch.  The
sssage livesss much further inssside the foressst."

	Natasha was not certain whether she could trust this
creature, but she thought it was worth a try.  After all,
she could always return to this cottage later.  So she
thanked the snake, as she had the others, and asked in turn
whether there was a way she could return the favor.

	"There isss," it said, as she expected.  "Let usss move
away from thisss cottage firssst."

	So the two walked and slithered, respectively,  further
into the forest, until the little hut was out of their
sight.  Then Natasha turned to the snake.  "I suppose you
want me to cut off your head?" she asked.

	"Actually, I would like you to kissss me," the reptile
said.

	Natasha blinked, and grimaced, but a promise was a
promise.  Reluctantly, she bent, allowing her lips to brush
the tip of the serpent's scaly snout.

	"Thanksss," said the snake.  "Now if you'd be ssso kind
asss to cut off my head with your sssword."

	Natasha was slightly puzzled by this, but she did as
the reptile asked, and no sooner had its head been lopped
off than there sat on the trail a boy of about her age.  He
had lavender hair and a dazzling smile, which he displayed
as he stood and bowed floridly to her.  "Thank you, my lady. 
My name is Timothy, and I was the court jester.  I came to
consult the sage, but I made the mistake of entering the
witch's cottage, and she placed a curse on me.  I was
trapped until you freed me."

	"But what was the kiss for?" Natasha wondered.

	Timothy grinned.  "Who wouldn't want a kiss from a
beautiful lady like you?"

	Natasha buried her face in her hands.  "Just go back to
the castle and report, already."

	"But there's no need, really.  I could travel with you
to the sage--"

	"Look, I'm telling you this for your sake.  My patience
is about at an end."

	He shrugged.  "Well, it was worth a try.  Thanks
anyway, honorable one.  Oh, and take this; you might need
it."  With that, he handed her a single gold coin, and
departed.

	Glowering to herself, Natasha continued on her way. 
Soon she reached the middle of the forest, where the sage
lived.  She saw the cottage, hollowed out of a gigantic
tree, wide enough around to fit four houses the size of her
own with space left over.  Joyfully, she approached the hut.

	But as she came close to the sage's home, the path
wavered, vanishing before her eyes.  She was so close, but
now there was no way to reach the building without leaving
the path!  Or... was there?

	Remembering the priestess's words, Natasha tapped the
staff on the ground.  It tore itself out of her hands,
laying flat against the earth.  And then it began to grow...
longer... broader... until it stretched to the very door of
the cottage.  It was a bridge!

	Happily, Natasha started across it.  But no sooner had
she gotten halfway across than a horrible slavering monster
with grey-green skin and large teeth climbed out from
beneath the bridge.  A troll!  "Ya needz ta pay da toll ta
crozz dis brij," it rumbled.  Its voice was like an
avalanche.

	Natasha took the gold coin out of her bag, and the
troll's eyes lit up with greed.  She began to hand the coin
to the monster, but stopped as a thought struck her. 
Instead, she turned, hurling the coin as far as she could
into the undergrowth.  With a wordless cry, the troll
bounded off after it.  Natasha continued across the bridge
to the front door.

	After all that, the door was locked.  She knocked many
times, but no answer came.  She put her ear to the door, but
she heard no sounds from within.  Was the sage gone?

	She lifted Sara's sword.  The door was simple wood, and
surely a magical blade would cut through it as easily as it
had the heads of the transformed people.  Yet... she
hesitated.  At last, with a sigh, she lowered the sword and
turned to leave.

	At that moment, there was a clicking noise from behind
her.  Glancing back, she saw that the door had opened. 
"Come in," a voice from within beckoned.  Curious, she did
so.

	She stepped through the door, expecting to find herself
in the interior of the tree.  Instead, she was in a wide,
grassy field festooned with wildflowers of every shape and
color she could imagine.  The sun was high overhead, yet it
was not too bright or too hot... in fact, it was just right. 
There was a soft breeze that bore the songs of unseen birds.

	And in the middle of the field there was a man.  He
stood a head taller than her, with short blond hair and
bright green eyes that matched the jacket he wore.  A wreath
of laurel crowned his head, and a silver harp was in his
hands.  Most telling, his ears had a slight point to them,
his eyes an inhuman slant.  He smiled at her.  "Well done. 
You've passed your tests admirably."

	Slowly, Natasha lowered herself to the ground and
knelt, for she knew that this must be the elf-king.  "Your
pardon, your majesty," she stammered.  "I was only seeking
the sage, and--"

	"And you have found him," he said.  "Stand.  You should
not kneel before me."

	Natasha scrambled to obey, causing him to chuckle in
amusement.  She felt the heat beginning to rise to her
cheeks and desperately tried to distract herself.  "But--
you're the sage?  I mean..."

	The elf-king nodded.  "You were expecting an old man. 
Well, I am that," he admitted, "though elves do not age as
human men do.  Now... you have come seeking your parents, I
believe?"

	"Yes... but how did you know that?" asked Natasha,
forgetting in her surprise to maintain her previous
deference.

	Not that the man appeared to notice.  He smiled at her. 
"I was told by a friend of yours."  He gestured behind her,
and she turned, gasping as she found the robed form of the
court magician within arm's reach.

	"But..." Natasha stammered incoherently.  "You..."

	The magician raised her pale hands and drew back the
hood that engulfed her face in shadow.  A mass of brown
curls spilled loose, accompanied by a smile Natasha could
never forget.  "You..." she repeated in a whisper, her
throat suddenly dry.

	Her old friend embraced her, and it was as though those
six years had never happened.  "But why?" Natasha asked,
when they finally drew back.  "All of this..."

	"Because you had to do it yourself."  Her friend's
smile became even wider, if that were possible.  "And you
did.  You never needed magic, Natasha."

	"My parents...?"

	She felt the presence of the elf-king standing beside
her.  "Isn't it obvious?" he asked kindly.  And it struck
her:  the hair.  The skin.  The strange otherness that had
always haunted her.

	"Father?" she asked in disbelief.

	He nodded.  "Your mother is here as well."  His face
grew serious as he continued, "She could not survive in the
human world, nor could I for long, any more than you could
have survived here before you came of age.  I hope you can
forgive us, Natsu."

	"Well..."  She blinked.  "Wait.  My name isn't..."

	"Natsu."

	"Natsu."

	"Natsu."

				*		*		*

	"Natsu!"

	The blonde started awake.  What an odd dream.  Again. 
With a shrug, she dismissed it.

	She glanced at the clock out of habit.  Still early. 
Plenty of time.  Why...?

	Oh, that's right.  Breakfast.  Her father's family from
America was going to visit, and they'd arrive this morning. 
"Coming!" she called, already out of bed and rummaging
through her drawers for something to wear.

	It was likely to be a long day.

				*		*		*

	On the edge of dreams, the man known as Harlequin
smiled.  Perhaps the Magician was well-hidden, for now. 
But, as he had just been reminded... there were always other
routes.

				*		*		*

Author's Notes:  Wai!

Tried a bit of an experiment here, hope it didn't turn too
many people off. ^_^;