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The most life changing impact of IMVU for me, has been the unexpected discovery of a desire to write. I started a short story, and it turned into a full blown, ever expanding, novel.

Here are some extracts:-

He ran past them for a short distance and then changed form into a large eagle. He did it as slowly as possible to minimise the magical emanation; he did not know if such precautions were actually necessary, but he would rather not find out too late that they were.
As the riders drew level with him, he rose into the air as if startled by them and, gaining height as quickly as he could, looked for anything that could account for the shadow he had seen.
There! From his new vantage point, he could see a vague area that moved between him and the ground. It changed colour as it moved, but against such varied foliage, its colour changes were not quite fast enough. A derstral, and a large one too!
They were supposed to be extinct, but clearly, there was at least one still surviving; he would have to remedy that.
Satisfied that it was scanning the ground, he changed the colour of his feathers to adopt his usual camouflage, and began to hunt the hunter.
He wondered what it was after, as his own eagle eyes could see no trace of the small animals that would usually form the prey of a large predator of this kind.
The illusory riders emerged from the cover of the tree canopy, and Trerin learned what it was hunting when it swooped to attack Seldar.
He was already in motion, as it screeched in surprise when it passed straight through Seldar's illusion, and he plummeted onto its back and plunged his beak into its neck. They landed rolling on the ground.
He was surprised at how strong the creature’s scales were. His beak, its strength and sharpness enhanced by his Shapechanged weapons, should have slashed with ease into the creature but instead, although it penetrated, it did nothing like the damage that it should.
The derstral shrieked at his attack and twisted to rake its claws along his belly. His enhanced feathers deflected most of the attack but some of the claws successfully penetrated.
Trerin struck again aiming at the join between two scales near the neck. He could sense something odd about this creature. He had researched what little they knew about derstrals in the hope of learning to shape change into one. This one was certainly a lot larger than usual, and everything he had read had suggested that an unenhanced eagle’s beak should be able to penetrate its scales.
As well as that oddity, he knew that a derstral was a natural creature, a predator but not a creature of dark, yet he could sense a darkness within this animal that was far from natural.
The creature shrieked as he attacked again, and then did something no derstral should be able to do; it Translocated. One minute his claws were fixed on its tail while he slashed at its back, and the next it was gone.
Lord of Light! There was only one possibility; a Zindon, Shapechanged as he was, its armour making its scales stronger in the same way that his did for his feathers.
Trerin leapt into the sky, wings beating furiously clawing for height, his eyes scanning the sky for the Zindon, knowing that it must be above him somewhere, but its camouflage was too effective.
His Gleaning warned him just in time to evade the strike; the Zindon hurtled past, missing his wingtip by a whisker. It vanished again.
Trerin continued to gain height as quickly as he could, and concentrated on keeping his camouflage adapted to the ground below. He searched the sky for any sign of the Zindon, but he knew that a derstral was nearly impossible to see from below; he needed to get above it.
His Gleaning screamed at him again, but this time he was a fraction too slow; the Zindon's dive clipped the edge of his wing and the impact broke the bones at the tip. Trerin twisted and managed to catch the Zindon's tail as it went past, and once more began to strike at it with his beak. The Zindon in turn twisted and aimed its claws up and under his feathers. Trerin felt a stab of agony as its claws sank into his stomach and tore a deep gash. He felt his strength begin to wane as he bled freely.
The Zindon bared its teeth at him in parody of a grin, and then Translocated them both. Trerin realised they were now very high up and wondered why the Zindon had brought him here.
He soon learned its intent; it fastened teeth and claws firmly onto him, but instead of the slashing attack he expected, he felt its mind ram into his and pierce straight to his Seta.
With shock, he realised that it was attempting to suck out his life energy.
They fell through the air; the Zindon not bothering to slow their descent, and Trerin too distracted by the attack on his Seta to notice. He fought back, his mind slashing and pushing at the Zindon's, but he was weakening. Each time that he knocked it away from his Seta, it returned. Each time it returned, it took him longer to knock it away, and until he did so it fed on his energy and he weakened further.
Its presence in his mind was vile; a pulsating, sucking, dark, and hungry, void, surrounded by a never-healing psychic wound caused, though Trerin did not know it then, by the Dark Lord when he ripped out the human Seta to replace it with his own energy on the day that the JarXian became a Xiantu.
That terrible blackness, and the pain as it consumed his Seta, overwhelmed Trerin's courage, and he panicked then, frantically struggling to escape the creature's clutch.
With a sound that was unmistakably mocking, the Zindon released him and vanished. Trerin realised then that he was falling freely, the ground rushing towards him, and he opened his wings to slow his descent.
He barely had the necessary strength but slowly he came to halt and hovered He scanned the skies about him, wondering where the Zindon/derstral was. Then he noticed movement below and, looking down, saw the Zindon flying below him. It was making no effort to camouflage itself from him, and it turned its head to look towards him; again making that sound that was so obviously a mocking laugh.
Then it turned its head away and began to scan the ground, flying in large sweeping arcs. Trerin understood; it was searching for Seldar, attempting to locate him by the residual energy he emitted as he held the illusion that kept him hidden. He understood, too, that it no longer considered him a threat. He was badly injured, losing blood, and the damage to his Seta had weakened him considerably.
Plus, it knew that he had been terrified, and panic stricken, and must think that he would not dare another attack.
It was correct about his injuries being severe, but wrong about the rest. Trerin was furious and ashamed with himself for panicking, but Tyrean training included preparation for terror.
The innocuously titled Self-knowledge course was intended to help each Tyrean learn his or her strengths and weaknesses. Part of this included learning that every man and woman, no matter how brave or strong, could and would panic given the right stimulus. The instructors taught it, and then proceeded to demonstrate it. Each student was invited into a specially prepared room, the first time many went in confidently, others, wiser, went in with more trepidation.
All left that room shaking, with clothes sweat-plastered to their bodies. All Tyreans, from the humblest baker up to the King, were given that demonstration at least once a year, all came out shaking. Within that room they learned first hand what could bring them to such a level of fear that they would panic.
The purpose was partly so that no one could feel contempt towards another fighter if he panicked; all knew that they too were capable of it.
The second was more important; to enable each person to understand and learn from terror, so that if it happened to them in battle, they would more quickly recover their courage and return to the fray.
Trerin had been in that room nine times in his life, and each time he had been terrified out of his senses. He used the anger and shame to fight down the fear he felt at the idea of resuming the battle.
He looked at the creature below, ignoring him contemptuously, it doubtless thought it could kill him at its leisure; he was too badly wounded to escape. It was correct.
He could sense Seldar's worry and hoped that he would remain hidden, but Sorcerers often felt compelled to risk themselves for their Ponfourii even though it was supposed to be the other way around.
Seldar was trying to urge him to come down for healing, he thought, attempting to interpret the emotions he could feel through the Bond. If he did, the Zindon would find them both with ease.
There was only one possible choice. The Zindon was certain that he was cowed and would not attack. If he did, it would kill him; draining his Seta to complete the kill.
Better Ponfourii than he had died by Zindon hands; if it was to be his fate, he would have his beak at its throat and his talons in its belly when it happened.
He knew that if he waited until Seldar was in immediate danger, that the Bond would erase fear, but he would not wait for that, he folded his wings and fell, gathering speed as he plummeted towards the unaware Zindon.
He crashed sideways on into its back, the impact shattering his left shoulder, wing and several ribs, but he shrieked defiance and wrapping his remaining talons around one of its forelimbs, again tore at its throat with his beak.
The Zindon growled its annoyance, then Translocated them both back high into the sky, and resumed its attack on his Seta. Trerin knew that this time it would not let go until it had killed him.
Once again, he felt the terrible consuming blackness with the raw wound that surrounded it, as the Zindon smashed through his defence and fastened onto his life force.
A tingle from his Gleaning suggested a course of action, it seemed insane, but he could think of nothing else to try. He abandoned his futile attempts to detach the Zindon from his Seta and instead threw all his remaining strength into a healing flow aimed at that psychic wound.
For a second, nothing seemed to happen but then the Zindon screamed in agony as that wound began to close, cutting off its access to the dark energy Gifted by its god, and beginning to return it to its former human state.
Now it was the Zindon's turn to struggle and fight to break free, but Trerin clung on with all his waning strength and continued to heal the wound deep within it.
They fell through the air, tumbling and rolling, until Trerin's strength gave out at last and the Zindon broke free. They smashed into the top of a tree, falling in different directions as they bounced off branches.
The Zindon hit a branch and rebounded, falling into the river, Trerin bounced onto a sloping roof and rolled down it and off its edge, coming to rest in the yard of a water mill.

They edged close to the wall, and ducked down to creep below the windows. Before opening the large oak main door, Seldar looked in both directions along the coast road; there were a great many of the cloaked Shantoo standing around with no obvious occupation. Seldar shivered and hoped that they were there for some purpose unconnected with him. At a nudge from Trerin, he turned back to the door and carefully constructed an Illusion around it so that it would seem to remain closed to anyone looking. He opened it carefully and they stepped through, Trerin closing the door behind them. Seldar realised that he was holding his breath, and he had to force himself to release it. They were in a large reception room of what was clearly a hotel for wealthy visitors. To their left, was the reception desk in front of a door probably leading into a small room for servants. To their right a door flanked by large windows, opened into a spacious sitting room, currently fully occupied by people in black robes. Ahead of them, a flight of stairs led up to a landing, supported by solid looking stone piers, that curved around all four walls above their heads. Around the room, were other doors that led into the deeper recesses of the hotel. Also around the room, were several comfortable seats of various sizes, all of which were occupied by armed Shantoo sitting quietly as though waiting for something. Relief swept over Seldar, none of these people showed any awareness of the two Tyreans walking carefully past them; his Illusion was holding.
The unseen magic user, somewhere above them, once again began to use his or her Gifts. Seldar and Trerin exchanged a glance, and began to walk towards the stairs. As thy approached the staircase, Selar looked up the flight into the large mirror that hung on the wall ot the top. Reflected in this mirror, he could see the part of the landing that was immediately above the front door. Surprisingly, given the large numbers of Shantoo downstairs, Sedar could see only two people up there, both shrouded in black robes. As he and Trerin reached the middle of the room, one of the two, rose and went to the window overlooking the coast. The other threw back his hood to reveal a face that was unpleasantly similar to the Zindon that Seldar had seen in the Cave of Cleansing earlier that year. Pale skin, white hair, and peculiar pink eyes that stared into his through the mirror and smiled in trumph.
With a shock of fear, Seldar realised that this creature could see him, but even as he opened his mouth to warn Trerin, he felt the strange numbness caused by a Blanket Ward settle over his senses, blocking his gifts of Transmutation, Translocation, and also Illusion.
Around them, with a few startled shouts, the waiting Shantoo jumped to their feet, pulling swords.
Trerin reacted instantly, one hand reached sideways to slam Seldar's forgotten visor down over his face, and then closed his own, while the other hand drew his sword. He glanced behind toward the window and then seizing Seldar by the shoulder, he pushed the Sorcerer sideways toward a wall, sword whirling to clear the path. Seldar hit the wall hard, and for a second could not think what was happening or where he was.
Remembering, he whirled round, drawing his sword, intending to aid Trerin in the fight, but at first glance Trerin needed no aid, He stood several feet in front of Seldar, one of his hands holding a sword, and the other a shorter blade, as they whirled around him in a complex and deadly pattern as he moved, leaving a trail of dead and dying at his feet. He almost seemed to dance between stationary foes, but Seldar knew that that was an illusion; his Ponfour's speed made his foes look slow by comparison, but stationary they were not. Trerin was pacing himself, and Seldar was bemused to sense that the young Warrior was partly enjoying the challenge of this combat, but a glance toward the front door showed why Trerin had not attempted to send them back into the open road; more Shantoo were pushing through the door, replacing those foes who were falling beneath Trerin's blades.
Frustrated, Seldar knew that he could do little to help at the moment. Trerin had pushed him to this wall to limit the angles from which foes could attack, and at the moment, seemed to be holding back the tide of enemies, leaving Seldar free to try and sense the location of the blanket Wards that stopped them using their Gifts. That would take time, as he slowly identified where the blanketing energy was strongest.
Many of their attackers had lost their initial enthusiasm for the apparently one-sided fight, as more and more of their numbers fell before Trerin’s blades, but a sudden push from the back sent two past the Ponfour and Seldar was now fighting for his life. He knew that he was not the most skilled swordsman in Tyreen, but he was surprised to discover that these two Shantoo were very poor indeed; it almost seemed as though neither had ever held a sword before. However they were still two to his one, and he had to concentrate as he rarely had before. One of them collapsed unexpectedly, the point of a sword briefly showing through his robe before he collapsed to reveal Trerin spinning back to his own opponents.
“Thanks lad,” Seldar gasped as he finished the other one. Another surge from behind sent a very reluctant Shantoo towards him, sword held out stiffly in front.
Seldar knocked the blade aside and lunged, but hit only fabric.
“These robes make it hard to tell where to aim,” he complained as he brought his sword around in an arc towards the neck.
“I suspect that’s the point,” Trerin grunted as he ducked a wild swing, coming up too close to the Shantoo for the man to use his blade, and thrusting his dagger into the man’s throat, “Some of these are Zindons, Seldar, and they have not Warded our Healing; we can use it against them.” He said as he grabbed one who screamed at his touch and tried to pull away. He ran the man through.
“They are only wearing toughened leather, very few have any metal plate.” He sounded mildly disappointed.
“And some of them are so bad they are almost fighting for us!” Seldar laughed as one clumsy attacker managed to behead the next man with a wild uncontrolled swing of his sword. “But the easier they make it for us, the happier I am, lad.” Seldar shouted as more came at him from the side. “
Trerin glanced at him for a split second, “Seldar, what happened to not wanting to annoy someone who has sworn to protect you with his life?” He asked as he sidestepped another sword and chopped through a man’s arm at the same time as plunging his dagger into another’s eye. As he withdrew the dagger he was already moving sideways so that a sword bounced harmlessly from his armoured shoulder.
“You said that it was distracting you, lad, and I really don’t want you distracted right now.” His slice caught his foe on the leg, making the man fall, and Seldar jumped on him, ignoring the scream as the man’s ribcage collapsed under Seldar’s body weight combined with that of his armour. If Trerin replied, Seldar did not hear it, but he felt the laugh that tickled the Ponfour Bond between them.
“Have you located the Wards yet, Seldar?” Trerin asked, “Fun as this is, I don’t really want to stay here all day. I want you to Translocate out, and then I can Shapeshift and fly out.”
Seldar had finally had time enough to sense in which direction the blanketing magic was strongest, “They are above us, lad, on the landing. We need to get to the stairs.” He said looking at the crowd of enemies between them and the foot of the staircase.
Trerin nodded, and now began to fight at full speed and strength, carving a path towards the stairs. Their attackers fell back against this sudden onslaught and Seldar hurried to run after him. He found it hard to move quickly as the floor was covered with bodies, body parts, and lots of blood. He knew that Trerin could keep this level of speed going for only a few minutes. Ponfourii were stronger and faster, but not indefatiguable; it was only a matter of time before they ere overwhelmed by the sheer weight of numbers.
. At the foot of the stairs, Trerin hurriedly pointed Seldar upwards, as he fought the few Shantoo who dared come near him.
“Move, Seldar, get up the stairs.” Seldar stumbled up the stairs as fast as he could, considering for the first time in his life, that losing weight might indeed be a good idea. Trerin paused at the foot of the stairs for a moment, fighting back those nearby, before he too charged up the staircase, the Shantoo just a few paces behind him. At the top, he raced past Seldar, and grabbed a settee by its leg, lifting it easily,
“Duck!” he shouted as he threw it at Seldar’s head.
Seldar ducked!
The settee flew over him and ploughed into the first row of Shantoo, toppling them backwards and creating an obstacle that should buy the two of them a few seconds, but already those following were trying to scramble over their fallen colleagues, heedless of the fact that they were crushing their own people.
Trerin grabbed another settee and threw it to join the first.
“Them?” He asked nodding towards the two Shantoo that Seldar had seen earlier. “I think so.” Seldar replied,
“Can you hold here?” Trerin asked pointing at the seething mass of tangled bodies and furniture now blocking the stairs. Seldar nodded, and stepped down towards the mass, hacking at anything or anyone who looked likely to break free or climb over the top, as Trerin threw himself at the two figures, both of whom had drawn swords. Seldar was sure that they must both be Zindons, but the blanketing Wards would block their magic Gifts as efficiently as they did his, and without magic they were no stronger or faster than ordinary humans. Trerin's Ponfour speed and strength would give him the advantage even over two, though clearly they were both better swordsmen than the other Shantoo, and the noise as Trerin's sword chopped down on one's shoulder revealed that he at least wore metal armour.
Seldar's attention was pulled back to his own task as several enemies climbed across the obstruction requiring him to start fighting again.
Seldar heard the clash of metal on metal as Trerin locked swords with one, but could not watch the fight as already another Shantoo was trying to clamber over the obstruction.
As he killed the foe, he heard a feminine scream of agony and glanced through the banisters. Trerin had only one opponent now; the other lay in a crumpled heap on the floor.
Seldar felt the surge of triumph that filled Trerin and saw the Zindon falling to the floor. As the creature collapsed, four objects fell from a slashed part of its robe, all four pulsating with an unpleasant inner darkness. For a second Seldar began to hope that they might both come out of this alive, but as he watched, one of these, a round object that he recognised as a sunglobe, rolled to the edge of the landing, between the bannisters, and fell. It was too far from him to catch: all he could do was hope that it would shatter when it landed, but it did not. The globe landed on a body and rolled off it to disappear below a cupboard that was only just visible behind the Shantoo milling around on the ground floor.
Seldar knew with a deep certainty, that required no Gleaning Gift, that the Ward that was now completely out of reach was almost certainly the Tranlocation Ward.
As more reluctant Shantoo were forced upwards by the pressure from behind them, Seldar once again had to concentrate on his task of preventing any of them getting past the obstacle of two settees and an increasing number of bodies. From the corner of his eye, he saw Trerin stamp down on one of the Wards. 'Thank the Light that blanket Wards cannot be made indestructible.' He thought, as the blanketing magic dulling his senses suddenly eased slightly. Seldar opened his visor and grinned at the three Shantoo currently climbing over their dead colleagues, and then he Transmuted the air in front of them into a Solid moving ram that sent them hurtlng backwards onto the men behind them.
"Here, Seldar," Trerin was beside him, holding out the other two Wards. Seldar Transmuted both back into the harmless ornaments that they had previously been, and felt more of the blanketting magic lift, releasing his Illusion Gift, but not, as he had feared, his Translocation.
He felt Trerin's relief as the lad regained his ability to Shapeshift.
"Can you Translocate again?" Trerin asked urgently, Seldar shook his head, "The Ward rolled under that cupboard, Trerin," He said, nodding towards the cupboard. He was not entirely surprised to see a large group of Shantoo clustered in front of it; they must have seen where it rolled and knew that the Tyreans would have to come down for it if they were to have a chance to escape. Seldar knew what Trerin would do, and knew that if the opportunity arose, he must Translocate back to Tyreen, leaving Trerin behind. At least his Shapeshifting would give him a chance.
"Be ready," Trerin told him, and then Shapeshifted into his favourite cat shape and leapt over the obstacle on the stairs to attack the Shantoo beyond. As he fought his way down the stairs, the young Warrior made efficient use of his Gift, Now human with a sword, now a cat with twenty razor sharp daggers at his fingertips and sharp long teeth, now an eagle to fly above before changing form to fall on the Shantoo below. he flowed from form to form, without pause or hesitation, trying all the while to get close enough to the corner cupboard to retrieve the last all important Ward. Seldar suddenly had no one left to fight as the Shantoo who had been on the stairs were now all dead, or had joined the throng on the ground floor. He watched intently, creating Illusions of eagles and cats and solidifying air, to distract the Shantoo, and assist his Ponfour. Trerin was moving too quickly for him to risk much Transmutation; he could as easily hinder his Ponfour as help him if he was not very careful.
Trerin leapt upwards, changing form into an eagle. Two powerful wing strokes took him over the heads of several men and he changed into the cat as he dropped onto those standing beside the cupboard. Seldar could feel that he was tiring, and perhaps his concentration slipped for a second because agony flamed across the Bond as an enemy managed to thrust upwards at exactly the wrong moment and angle and, pushing up through Trerin's fur, removed a strip of skin and fur from his flank.
The wound was not mortal, but it meant that he now had a very vulnerable strip on his left flank. When he briefly resumed his human form, to swing his sword to deflect a second strike at the same spot, Sedar could see that the lad was missing a section of plate and leather from his left hip, and the revealed flesh was raw and bleedin.
The last Shantoo between him and the cupboard dead, Trerin shifted back into the cat and twisted to reach under the cupboard before more foes could attack. He withdrew his paw, the elongated finger like toes holding the globe firmly, and changed human again to throw the globe at the nearby wall. He had already changed back to a cat and was attacking another Shantoo, when the globe struck the wall and shattered.
Seldar immediately began to create a Translocation nimbus around himself. He knew his duty and Lord Jareth must learn what was here in Bein. As the nimbus formed, raw agony flared through the Bond and Seldar realised that someone had found that vulnerable patch with a sword point. Trerin was down, badly hurt, and the Shantoo pounced on the lad, pinning him to the ground despite his increasingly desperate struggles. As the Nimbus grew, Seldar expected to feel the lad's death, but instead he realised in horror that they intended to capture not to kill. A man ran forward clutching a Ward collar from which dangled two fine chains attached to cuffs. They fastened the collar around the lad's neck, the Wards built into it trapping him in his current form, and within seconds had one cuff around his right foreleg. Immediately the chain shortened, dragging Trerin's paw to the back of his neck. Another Shantoo was busily attaching a second set of chained cuffs to his rear legs, and the chain between them also shortened, clamping his rear paws firmly together.
Trerin too had expected death, and been ready for it and even welcomed the fulfillment of his Oath, and Seldar felt his shock, disbelief, and finally fear, as he understood what they intended. Seldar could not aid him with Transmutation or Illusion, unless he ended his attempt to Translocate, but if he did nothing, the lad would be taken alive by Zindons. No! Leaving him to die was one thing, but Seldar could not leave the lad in captivity. He would Translocate his Ponfour to safety first and then follow. Trerin would be annoyed that he had taken the risk, but when both were safe, he would forgive.
Seldar's thoughts had taken only a split second and he had refocused the Nimbus around Trerin while the Shantoo were still trying to fasten the second cuff around his left foreleg. Trerin vanished into the Nimbus and at that moment blinding agony ripped through Seldars chin, breaking his concentration and causing him to lose the image of the Cave of Cleansing where he had intended to send Trerin.
Seldar tried desperately to reform the image; no one knew what happened to someone lost in an interrupted translocation, but they were never seen again. The pain in his jaw was too distracting: he could not reform the image of the cave. Instead the only picture that formed in his mind was that of the farmyard where they had stayed when Trein had been injured by the Zindon/derstral. It would have to do! He focussed the Translocation nimbus there and threw Trerin out. A rough landing for the lad, half trussed as he was, but Seldar would follow, and then he could release the lad from the Ward collar, and Trerin could in turn heal whatever injury his neck had suffered.
Seldar's awareness returned to his current location, he had dropped his sword he realised, and was lying on the floor, a strange warmth surrounding the pain in his throat and the salty bitter taste of blood filling his mouth. He tried to move his jaw and the attempt sent waves of agony crashing through his skull. He sent his awareness inwards into his jaw, and understood: there was a dagger pushed through his chin, through his tongue, its tip just piercing the roof of his mouth. It had somehow missed the arteries and windpipe, whether by accident or design, and would not be immediately fatal, but he would not remain conscious for long if he was not Healed. He knew that he had to get to Trerin, quickly.
Seldar immediately began to create a new nimbus around himself, only for it to be shattered as the numbness of another Ward settled over him and he lost the ability to Translocate.
"I brought a spare Translocation Ward, just in case, and I have the Transmution Gift to activate it." A silky female voice gloated, a hint of pain audible in her voice, "You are doubtless thinking that you can still fight with Transmutation or Illusion. Think gain!"
Seldar looked up to see the figure standing over him had thrown back her hood to reveal her strange visage. Pale skin except for a purpling bruise which betrayed the imprint of Trerin's armoured fist, pink eyes, hair such a light blonde as to be almost white, in one hand she held a small silver pendant, and the dark glow of an activated Ward powered by dark magic throbbed within it. The other hand clutched at her side, and Seldar could see blood flowing between her fingers.
She, no, it, for this creature must certainly be a Zindon and therefore not truly alive, must have been one of the two that Trerin had fought, the one who had screamed and collapsed. He had assumed that it was dead; a fatal error.
"You will be unconscious very shortly. Even if you use Magic to fight your way downstairs, you will never reach the door. If you lie very still, you may remain conscious for some time, but if you try to fight you will lose blood more quickly."
It was correct, Seldar realised, and he knew that when he lost consciousness, he would awaken to find himself Warded and a prisoner. It smiled and leaning forward, reached towards his chin. Its hand vanished beyond his sight below his chin, and then the pain in his mouth redoubled as it tugged the blade free, twisting it very slightly as it pulled. It smiled with enjoyment as he tried to scream but inhaled his own blood and began to choke helplessly.
The Zindon looked behind, and Seldar felt it use magic.
"Get up here, he is ours!" It commanded, and Shantoo ran into his field of view, dropping beside him to seize his limbs, drag him to a kneeling position, and begin removing his armour and other weapons, as the Zindon watched still smiling.
"I will rise to fourth level Xiantona when I feast on your Seta tonight," It told him, and laughed, "And there will be plenty of your flesh for all who have survived today to feast." Seldar shuddered as he understood its meaning.
"I would have enjoyed watching your Ponfour's face as I killed you while he watched, helpless to fulfill his oath. You will die slowly for denying me that sport." It threw an irritated look downstairs.
"Where is the collar we prepared for this one?" It demanded, and Seldar saw a man running up the stairs clutching a Ward collar and chains similar to those used on Trerin.
"He must remain alive, but don't Heal him until he is safely collared." The Zindon ordered as It walked across to crouch beside the other Zindon. To his surprise, Seldar felt the emanation of magic and realised that it was Healing the other one.
Seldar knew that he had only seconds and his options were few, but now while she was distracted was his only chance.
He had only one choice, and only one regret; he knew well what he was about to do to Trerin, he could clearly feel the lad's horror at his helpless inability to return and aid Seldar. He hoped that the lad was young enough and strong enough to find a way to survive, but Seldar would not be taken alive.
As he felt his alertness start to fail, He reached out with all of his remaining strength and Transmuted all the air in hall, landing, and neighbouring rooms, into pure oxygen.
The female Zindon leapt to her feet, but she was too late.
A Shantoo had wrapped an arm around Seldar's head, pulling his head back to expose his throat for the collar which another Shantoo held ready to fasten around his neck.
Seldar grinned savagely at the man as, not allowing himself to think about what he was doing, he Transmuted the carpet beneath him into flame.

As they ate, Tam looked across the yard towards the hills and judged that they had a good hour at least before the sun reached the slope that Crystu had indicated. Then he looked down at the riverside meadows. There were people down by the river; men, women and children. Some washing clothes, some collecting leaves from small plants growing beside the water, and one man further up who lay on his chest on a large rock within the stream, his arms held within the river. As Tam watched, the man flicked up his arms and a fish flew over his shoulder to lie gasping on the bank. A child ran up and expertly killed the fish, placing it in a large basket with several others. Tam caught Crystu's attention with a tug on the Bond and gestured with his head toward the river. She looked across at the scene and glanced back puzzled, not understanding what he was trying to suggest. There were times when he wished that the Bond allowed them to share thoughts. he did not want to use Illusion to communicate as that would draw attention to the fact that he was giving her advice. "Crystu," Vellte said, looking towards the meadow, "Don't you think that we should ask Onvarr to clear his people from that area?” She directed a stern look at Tam, “I am surprised at you, Tam, for not seeing them and realising that they may be in danger if they remain." Tam grimaced, as Crystu started, glanced at the meadow and then looked apologetically at him. "He did, Vellte; I was just too dense to understand what he was trying to tell me just now." She said, “and you are both correct,” She glanced at the sun, which had moved much closer to the hillside, and then over her shoulder at Onvarr, who was hovering nearby. “Onvarr, would you bring your people off the meadows, please?” “Of course, My Lady,” He looked around and then, “Cherrith, they will not argue with you, would you go?” His wife nodded once and immediately walked briskly out of the yard and down to the river. A short time later everyone who had been working in that area, with the exception of the fishing man, had returned to the yard. Tam had watched Cherrith trying to catch the attention of the man on the rock but he seemed oblivious to her presence. The boy assisting him obediently picked up the basket of fish and followed Cherrith back to the village buildings. "My Ladies My Lords, this place is my responsibility, these people look to me for leadership and protection. I apologise if I should not ask this but what danger threatens the meadows that we must withdraw from them?" The question was hesitant, and Tam could see that Onvarr expected that they would not answer. Crystu drew breath to answer but before she could speak, Salnia also asked a question, "What trouble is Lord Trerin in? And what of Lord Seldar, where is he?" Tam could see dawning comprehension on her face, and her eyes pleaded to be told something other than what she suspected. He wished that he could give her a reassuring answer. "Seldar is dead, girl," Vellte replied. Salnia gasped, "Lord Seldar is dead? But that means... Oh that is unfair; he was nice!" She put her hands over her mouth, tears filling her eyes. "And there may be no danger at all, Onvarr, but when a Sorcerer dies the breaking of the Ponfour Bond can leave the Ponfour very confused and acting on instinct rather than thought, and..." Vellte looked at Trerisia. Tam understood; he did not know why, but many Shapeshifters kept their Gift secret from all but closest friends and family, Vellte felt that if anyone was going to decide to reveal his ability, it should be Trerisia. "He is a Shapeshifter, and we think that he may currently be in the form of a very large cat." Trerisia said quietly, "If so, he will be following cat instincts, and cats are predators. It is also possible that he will not recognise us; not even me, and will fight when we try to stop him to take him home. It s best if your people are nowhere near if that happens." She looked at Onvarr, who stared back wide-eyed. "Thank you for telling me." He looked across at the stream where the fishing man still lay on his rock, and then raised an eyebrow at Cherrith. She shrugged, "You know Deoil is deaf when he wants to be! I could not get his attention to give him your order, and I am no longer nimble enough to jump across the rocks to reach him." Onvarr grimaced, "Neither am I." "There may not be time now," Crystu said, "Trerin will soon arrive," Vellte twisted to stare down at the man on his rock, and a Translocation nimbus sudenly surrounded him. Even as he looked up startled, he vanished into the misty nimbus to reappear a few seconds later lying on one of the tables in the yard. His basket of fish lay under the table. "Wh Wh Wh?" He stammered, to general merriment from his fellow villagers. Onvarr rolled him off the table and he just managed to twist to land on his feet, to stand staring at the unexpected sight of visitors in the yard. "Deoil, in future when Cherrith gives you an instruction you listen hard and obey! I know that you can hear well enough when you want to!" Onvarr said crossly, as he pulled the basket from under the table and looked into it. "A fine catch, Deoil,, now go inside and clean them all." He thrust the basket into the man's hands. Deoil instinctively grasped the basket and then stumbled towards a door into the building, still craning his neck to stare at the Tyreans. Onvarr watched him until he disappeared into the internal gloom, then turned and bowed to Vellte. "Thank you, My Lady, for removing him from the danger." She nodded back regally, and he moved away to begin issuing new tasks to his people until the yard was almost empty again. "How are we going to stop Trerin," Jathte spoke quietly, when most of the villagers had dispersed, and Onvarr and his family had withdrawn to the far side of the yard, so that they were near enough to serve if asked, but far enough away to give the Tyreans some privacy. Jathte was looking down at his hands as he spoke, a thoughtful frown on his face. He had been silent up until then, and Tam assumed that he had been concentrating on supporting Trerisia through their Bond. Despite her calm and unworried appearance, Trerin's situation had to be very upsetting for her; he was her younger brother and they were close. "I will speak to him first," Trerisia said, "Perhaps he will recognise me and stop when I ask. If so I will place sleep on him. If not..." she shrugged, "We will just have to do it the other way." "Which is?" Vellte asked. Tam snorted, "Which is where, Trerisia, Gann, Karan, and I, all jump on him and try to hold him still long enough for someone to induce sleep on him. I suspect that, if it comes to this, we will be too busy to do it ourselves, so one of you," he looked at the four Sorcerers, "will have to be ready." "Tam, Astley and I could Shapeshift and help." Crystu pointed out and Astley nodded eagerly. Tam shook his head, caught Crystu's slightly narrowed gaze and smiled, "Crystu, if this develops as I think it may then the only way any of us will be able to tell whose limbs are whose, and whose we should be trying to catch hold of, will be if they have fur on them. If the two of you also Shapeshift we may restrain the wrong cat! Besides which, you would almost certainly end up having to use your claws and teeth on Trerin to avoid injury to yourself!" "Do you really think that he will fight us?" Crystu asked. Tam nodded, "I do. Vellte says that he will be acting on instinct, without thought, yet your dream showed him running purposefully in the direction of Tyreen. Whatever is driving him, even if it is just a desire to return home, when we try to stop him, I think that he will fight." "I agree." Trerisia nodded, "and he is still a Ponfour, with Ponfourii strength and speed. When he fights, he will fight with all his strength; it is no fight for Sorcerers to join." "This is a Ponfour matter, and we will take care of him. You four must all stay back unless we ask for your help." Gann said firmly. "Yes, My Lord Gann," Vellte said with a smile. The other three Sorcerers all nodded. Tam could feel Crystu's strong reluctance, but she recognised that they were right. "I have one question," Trerisia said unexpectedly and looked at Salnia who had sat down, on the far side of the yard, with a small child. She held the infant to her breast, cuddling him close as he suckled. Tears slid silently down her cheeks but she made no sound. "Salnia," The young woman looked up on hearing her name, "I was watching you and you were not surprised at hearing that Trerin is a Shapeshifter. How is that?" Salnia smiled sadly, "I guessed. While Lord Seldar slept after their battle with the grinnet, Da persuaded Lord Trerin to tell us the story of their fight. There were things that only made sense if he could breathe underwater, and so I asked him afterwards about that. He didn't admit it, but next morning..." her smile brightened slightly at the memory, "his eyes were blue, instead of brown." Trerisia snorted, "That is so typical of Trerin; he always keeps it a secret, but if a pretty girl smiles at him, he starts dropping hints and then eventually...." She stopped. Tam grimaced sympathetically; Trerin would not be flirting with young women again. "Zia.." Jathte reached across and put a comforting hand on her forearm. She smiled briefly at him, and then stood up, determination showing in every muscle of her body. “We should get ready.” she said firmly, as she gently removed Jathte's hand, patting it once before she let go. Tam and the others all rose to their feet. Crystu walked across to Onvarr, "Don't let anyone go down to the meadow until we say that it is safe.” She told him. He nodded, "Light shine on your task, My Lady, we will pray for you." He gestured to his family and they all went inside. Crystu returned to stand beside Tam, and then, with no further conversation, they walked briskly towards the river. Standing beside the gently flowing river, Crystu pointed downstream to where it curved to the right and flowed into the forest. "He will appear there, beside that treestump," she said. Tam nodded and looked at Trerisia. "I will meet him there and ask him to stop," she said. "If he does not, I will run beside him and continue to try to persuade him until we reach the rest of you." He nodded and looked at the other two Ponfourii, "We will wait about half way, and if Trerin has not stopped by the time he reaches us," he shrugged, "We stop him, and hold him, until someone can induce sleep in him." "We will wait a little way to the side ready to aid if necessary," Crystu nodded. Tam gave her a sharp look; she still was not happy about staying back out of reach of Trerin's claws. She saw the look, and half smiled. "I will be good, Tam." She promised, using the Bond to let him know that she was sincere. He smiled back, and then as the Sorcerers retreated a little way back towards the village, the Ponfourii trotted beside the river to their chosen positions. Trerisia stopped near the tree stump, and they waited patiently. Trerisia straightened, and glanced back to nod once at the others, and then stepped forward as Trerin emerged from the deeply shadowed undergrowth at the edge of the wood. Tam inhaled sharply in shocked reaction at the sight. The large cat trotted unsteadily, weaving slightly from side to side. His long shaggy fur was matted and dirty, except for a patch on one flank where the fur, though equally dirty, was very short as though growing back after it had been shaved off. His eyes were half closed, and he looked thin. Most shocking of all, around his neck a Ward collar glowed in multicoloured pulses of light, and short lengths of chain dragged from shackles on three of his legs and a fourth chain hung from the collar. "Trerin?" Trerisia called as he approached her, apparently unaware of her presence. He saw Trerisia and stopped, staring at her, and then he looked past her to the group waiting further along. He looked back at Trerisia, and then back at the other Ponfourii. His eyes seemed to stare into Tam's for a long moment, and then they blazed in sudden fury, and his lips curled back from his razor sharp teeth and he snarled. For several miles Trerin had travelled under fir trees that had so thickly covered the ground with needles, that little else grew except for patches of small flowers. The needles had pricked into the pads of his paws but he had ignored the pain as he ignored his hunger and thirst. He did not know how long he had been travelling, or how far he had come; such thoughts were beyond him. He knew only that he must keep moving, and that if he stopped for more than a few minutes rest, the implacable voice would return, telling him to continue. He had drunk only when his path took him across streams and rivers, lapping quickly as he splashed through the water, and had eaten only when his paws landed on top of some terrified creature. If it escaped his jaws, he let it go rather than chase after it. His hunger had burned in his stomach at first, but then had faded to nothing more than a dull ache, which quickly became just one more discomfort no more important than any other. The fir trees slowly gave way to more mixed species and increasing amounts of undergrowth, through which he pushed his way, staggering when thorny branches tried to hold onto legs, chest or tail, pulling him off balance. The sunlight streamed brightly through gaps in the canopy overhead, striking patches of blue flowers that glowed with reflected light. It made the shadows seem black by comparison. The undergrowth became very thick, and Trerin pushed resolutely through it, staggering as he broke through into the meadow beyond. His eyes closed automatically against the bright sunlight, as he pushed onwards beside the river. “Trerin!” At first he thought that it was the voice again calling him ever onward, but then he saw the figure in front of him and stopped, puzzled at the surge of familiarity. “Trerin, we have come to take you home.” He stared at the figure; the sounds meant nothing to him, but the voice felt comfortable. He had encountered people several times on his journey and had learned to be wary of them after several had thrown sharply pointed things at him, but he trusted that voice. He did not understand what it wanted, but he trusted it. He looked beyond the figure and saw others ahead, all looking at him. He looked again at the familiar female, and then back at the others. One of them caught his attention; a large male. A wave of mistrust and fury washed over him as he stared at that one. He knew that they had met before and that this one was dangerous. Forgetting the familiar female, he snarled a warning at the big male, and lurched into a trot, staring at the figure, and ready for attack. “Trerin! Stop!” The female began to lope beside him, but he ignored her. She was not a threat to him, he was certain of that. The other figures inspired no feelings at all and he ignored them as well, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the biggest one, ready for the slightest move. Trerin listened to the sounds that these people were making but could understand nothing. As he trotted past them, the others had joined the female in running alongside him. "Trerin, please stop, we are here to take you home." The voice had a pleading quality, and his steps faltered as part of him tried to stop while the rest ordered his paws to keep moving. "He's not going to stop, Trerisia," "Rinnie! It’s Riz, please stop!" "Tam's correct Trerisia, we must stop him by force." Treriin felt his hackles rising, he was suddenly sure that they threatened him in some way. "He is going to fight." The voice sounded resigned and determined, and then Trerin felt something land on top of him, knocking him off his feet. A distant memory of hooded figures who had held him down while clamping chains on him flared in his mind and in desperate panic, he twisted, trying to bring his paws around. He succeeded in hooking claws into a thigh, while simultaneously sinking his teeth into a hand. He felt bones crack within his mouth, and salty blood flowed down his throat to fuel his strength. A moment ago he had felt exhausted but now, energised by rage, he fought as fiercely as though he was at the peak of his strength. Without knowing why, he avoided injuring the female; each time he had a chance to bite or claw her, he found himself twisting away to aim his weapons elsewhere. The large male was a different matter; the sight of him infuriated Trerin and he took every opportunity to scratch and bite any part of him that was within reach. His first few attacks had shredded much of the man's protective leather clothing and exposed the more vulnerable flesh beneath. As he fought he heard grunts and muffled cries of pain, and tasted blood with satisfaction, but his attackers were relentless and his strength, after the initial adrenaline filled surge, was waning rapidly. Trerin saw an opening and hooked his razor sharp claws into the man's leg, ripping through muscle and exposing bone, at the same time he sank his teeth into the man's arm. "Tam!" A female voice shrill with anger shouted from nearby. "Stay back, and be ready!" The male gasped. Terrin rejoiced at the pain in his voice and bit down harder on the arm in his mouth. The man collapsed onto Trerin's neck and for a second Trerin thought that he was unconscious, but to his surprise, the man wrapped his other arm around Trerin's neck and under his chin and pulled upwards, trapping Trerin's head between chest and arms. He was actually using Trerin's grip on his arm to help hold his head stationary. Trerin struggled to get free, reaching his front paws backwards over his head and clawing at the man's head and back, but to no avail; his teeth remained lodged in the arm, and the bear-like grip prevented him opening his mouth to let go. His distraction enabled the others to get firm grips on his rear legs and the female pulled his fore limbs away from their target. Even now, he could not bring himself to harm her, and she took full advantage of that fact. "I have his head!" The man gasped, "Quickly, someone, induce sleep." Trerin felt a touch on his shoulder, and suddenly exhaustion swept over him. Blackness rose over his vision, and he fell into a deep sleep.

Trerin lifted his head as his sensitive cat’s ears heard and recognised distant voices coming through the open window. He had been asleep until the familiar tones had brought him awake. The sky outside the window was dark, but the birdsong indicated that the sun would soon rise. He had thought that Lord Jareth and Lady Aren had joined the army but he guessed that they had returned to make another attempt to persuade him to change back into his human form. Jathte’s voice interrupted their conversation and then Trerisia’s; she sounded upset although Trerin doubted that anyone except her family, and now Jathte, would recognise it in her voice. Even with his cat’s ears sharpening his Ponfour sensitive hearing, Trerin could not make out their actual words, but he could tell that they were coming closer to the room in which he lay. He had woken several days ago, from what had seemed like a very long sleep punctuated with nightmares of dark robed figures, and a strange yet familiar female voice, which dissolved each nightmare as it became intolerable. He could remember some things that had happened to him after Seldar’s death, but there were places in his memory where events jumped from one place to another, or from night to day, or vice versa. The gaps were frequent and long during the first days, but had become less frequent and shorter as time went on. They still occurred several times a day even now, which was why he remained in the form of a cat. He knew that those around him thought that he was still deep in the silence and isolation of Bondshock, and in his increasing periods of lucidity he knew that this was true, but he was emerging now, slowly but surely. The physical damage caused to his brain, by the ripping away of the Bond, had healed with help from the Healers, The grief left by Seldar’s loss and his own failure remained a raw blackness within him, yet even that no longer pulled at him as it had. His mind was slowly healing and in another few days he might be able to change form again, but not yet. He had tried, many times since waking to find the ward collar removed, to revert back to human, but each attempt had ended in failure. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the image of his true self, he simply could not sustain the concentration long enough to complete the process; his mind would drift away until he would suddenly realise that hours had passed of which he had no recollection. Those blank times were happening less and less with each passing day, but attempting to Shapeshift was guaranteed to cause one. It was extremely frustrating! The more so, because he had to tell someone what he had seen in Bein; they needed to know. It was that duty that had kept him staggering along the road back to Tyreen, but now he was here and he still could not complete the task. Deep down he could feel the beginnings of a new pull. His Seta was beginning to decay along the ragged edge left by the Bond’s removal. He imagined it beginning to fray like badly seamed cloth. It was unHealable, and eventually that fraying would cause his Seta to decay to that point where it would kill him. The death that lay that way would be excruciatingly painful, which was why it was balanced by a growing desire to leave Tyreen and seek out the minions of dark, until he perished in honourable battle. Trerin had no more wish to die than any man, but he had sworn to die, if necessary, to defend Seldar, and yet Seldar was dead, and Trerin lived. As he saw it, he owed his death, and he would not be foresworn. As his Seta began to decay, the pull to leave was growing stronger. Eventually, even if he was still in the form of a cat, he would have no choice but to leave to seek a better death than the one that awaited him if he remained here. The voices cut off suddenly, as he heard a door close. They had gone indoors. He wondered how long it would be before they came here and tried again to persuade him to change. He truly wished that he could. He pushed himself to his feet and padded across to his water bowl and lapped. This was not an efficient way to drink, compared to the ease of pouring water directly into his mouth from a cup held in a human hand. This form had long been his favourite, but now he was growing heartily tired of it! Eating and drinking was bad enough, but cleaning himself with his tongue was not only unpleasant, it was extremely undignified. Luckily cat instincts were strong, and he could just let the body get on with it while he withdrew his mind as far as he could, and tried not to notice where he was licking! And the hairballs were truly unpleasant! Part of him found his predicament hilariously funny, or would do if it were not for the emptiness in his mind where he had become used to feeling another’s emotions. It felt as though art of his brain had been scooped out of his skull, leaving behind a dark empty hole, which sucked away any inclination to laugh. He had been Bonded for little more than half a year, but although it had felt strange at first, to feel Seldar’s emotions as well as his own, he had quickly become used to it. Now, only his own emotions were inside him, and he felt.....alone. Alone and abandoned here in the Farm. His feelings seemed to swing between wildly different states changing from day to day and hour to hour. At the moment he felt the aloneness, and the grief, and the pain. He understood that Seldar had intended to Translocate himself after his Ponfour, but had left it too late. He had not expected to die and leave his Ponfour bound and helpless miles away. Seldar had died because of a misjudgement, and Trerin was glad that he would not long outlive his close friend. He did not know exactly what lay after death, but he was certain that there was something and that he would be reunited with Seldar there. Yesterday, Trerin had raged with fury, dragging his razor sharp claws down the walls of his room, and he would have torn Seldar to pieces had he been able to appear before him. He had interpreted Seldar’s actions as a betrayal of their Oaths, and had told himself that their Bond had been a terrible mistake and that Seldar had been arrogant to go against what he knew was Trerin’s honourable duty. He had snarled at anyone who came near, especially the few Sorcerers who remained working here in the Farm. He shook his head trying to clear his fogged thoughts, and decided to try and Shapeshift again. He closed his eyes, and began to concentrate on the familiar shape that was his natural form. He began at his feet and worked his way slowly up, building up the image in his mind, focussing as hard as he could to retain the completed parts of his image as he moved to the next. Feet, legs, hips, stomach, shoulders, arms. Slowly he constructed the picture of his body as it should be. He pictured his fingers, long furless nails instead of claws. He would be so relieved to lose those claws; they were dangerous. He remembered slashing them across Tam's back and head as he bit deeply into the man's arm. He had been trying to kill him, he knew that, he even knew why he had reacted so at the sight of the long-haired Ponfour, and that in itself was almost amusing. The sunlight hit his face, and he blinked. Confusion filled his mind as he struggled to remember what had happened. It had been dark outside, he had been trying to Shapeshift, now the sun was high enough that it streamed through the window. He had lost time again, two or three hours he thought. He should be able to tell more exactly than that, he scolded himself, but his timesense, like everything else, remained unreliable. He heard the lock rattle and then the door of his room opened. He was not surprised to see Lord Jareth and Lady Aren, or Jathte and Trerisia: he remembered hearing their voices earlier. He was astonished when Lady Rykatu Crystu and Lord Tam followed them in. Why were they here? They were not friends of his; he hardly knew them. His brief journey with them earlier that spring had lasted only a few days, and he had been too busy unobtrusively watching Tam to really get to know either of them. He and Seldar had seen Lady Crystu around Tyre, shortly after their return, but she was a princess and a Rykatu, and Seldar and Trerin were just ordinary Guardians; they did not mix with Royalty very often. He was particularly uncomfortable at seeing Lord Tam, because he had spent several years trying to avoid his notice. After the midsummer joke that Trerin had organised on the cathedral, he had heard that the Warrior Tam was looking for the perpetrator. He had certainly not wanted to listen to the lecture on propriety that he was sure that the reputedly pious Warrior intended to give, so he had begged his friends to keep his name quiet, and blessed the rules that meant that only a Sorcerer looking for a Ponfour could examine people's personal records, and volunteered for an mission outside Tyreen. Trerin hoped that LordTam had long since abandoned his quest to learn who was responsible. Lord Tam watched him carefully as though expecting a resumption of Trerin's earlier attack on him. There was no danger of that now; Trerin had been exhausted, suffering from a brain injury, and very confused, when he had tried to kill Tam in Tarvinstoft. He might not yet have recovered fully, but he knew that Lord Tam was no servant of darkness. After a few seconds, Lord Tam relaxed slightly, although Trerin knew that he would explode into movement in an instant if Trerin showed any hostility. Trerin was sure that he had heard that, after Lord Tam had removed the Ward collar from Trerin’s neck (for which he was extremely grateful), he and Lady Crystu had joined the marching army. What brought them back and why were two such important people here? Lord Jareth’s presence made sense; he wanted to know what Trerin had seen in Bein. Did he think that Lady Crystu could find a solution? He sat up and waited to find out. Eyes flicking from one to another until Lord Jareth opened his mouth to speak. "Trerin," Lord Jareth began, sounding impatient, "I cannot continue to wait for you to recover enough to Shapeshift: I need to know what you saw in Bein, and I need that knowledge now, not in a week's time when you decide to change back to human." Trerin blinked as annoyance swept over him; did Lord Jareth truly believe that he remained in this form by choice? "So after consulting with your family," Lord Jareth glanced at Trerisia, who nodded confirmation to Trerin, "We have decided to act." He paused, and seemed to be considering his words carefully. Trerin wondered what possible action they could be considering. He wished that they could force the Shapeshift externally, but that was impossible. Lord Jareth pursed his lips and stared at Trerin, then spoke again, his voice harsh. "There is an old Spell that has some similarity to the Ponfour Bond, but it creates a compulsion that cannot be resisted. Only a Rykatu can perform this Spell, and we have decided that you will probably be happier bound to Crystu than to me so she will perform it. Once you are bound by this she will be order you to Shapeshift, and you will have to comply." Trerin stared at him in astonishment, and felt annoyance begin to turn to anger. He had never heard of such a spell, but anything that hinted of compulsion was forbidden. Lord Jareth could not possibly be serious; surely Trerin’s confused brain had misunderstood. He looked at Trerisia, but her expression was not reassuring; she clearly believed that the old Rykatu meant exactly what he had said. They hadn’t even tried Dreamwalking, why not? If they walked in his dreams he could show them what he had seen. Then he remembered vague strange nightmares in which people had asked him what he had seen, but he had fled, not wanting to remember. They had tried Dreamwalking, he realised, but his confused mind had not cooperated, and they had no way to know that he was alert enough now to understand the need. "Jareth, I think we should let Crystu and Tam explain the rest." Lady Aren spoke quietly. Her husband inhaled as though to disagree but then nodded. They stepped back, and after a moment, Trerisia followed with Jathte. Trerin looked up at Lady Crystu and Lord Tam as they stepped closer. Lady Crystu squatted beside him and looked at him sadly. "Trerin, neither of us wants to do this, especially now, but a Gleaning tells us that we must. Even so, if you can Shapeshift now, and promise to remain with us until we tell you that you may leave, we will reconsider. This Spell will bind you to both of us," she flicked her eyes to include Tam, "and you will be compelled to obey any order I give, until I release you." Trerin stared at her, and then shook his head violently; they could not possible mean this. It was forbidden! He looked again at Trerisia, and he could see in her eyes, that they did mean this. If he could not change here and now, they would perform this spell and force him to obey. He looked back at the Lady Rykatu; had she understood his refusal? He decided to be clearer, and snarled softly at her. Lord Tam shifted as though he wanted to pull her away, but she held up a hand to stay him, all the while holding Trerin’s eyes. "You cannot refuse, Trerin," She said implacably, "Either Shapeshift now, or we will bind you to us, and then I will command you to change. Do you understand me?" He had no choice, he realised; he must try once more to do something that he knew that he could not do. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and began once again to build in his mind’s eye, the image of himself as a human. He held onto his concentration with all the strength he could muster. He did not want to be bound to this Sorceress; he had learnt to his cost that no Sorcerer was trustworthy. “I think that he is becoming aware again.” Trerisia’s voice became a ladder up which Trerin climbed back into daylight. He had blacked out again he realised. The sun had moved around far enough to suggest at least an hour had gone by since his last abortive attempt to Shapeshift. “Good!” Lord Jareth sounded irate. “Perhaps now we can finish this!” Trerin lifted his head to see Lord Jareth giving Lord Tam a very irritated look. The muscular Ponfour looked back, arms folded, and his face set in stubborn lines. His Sorceress was watching him, a quiet, proud and fond, smile on her face. “Trerin was lucid; he could understand us, and could say yes or no. That means that we have to obtain his consent before we proceed, and that means waiting for him to wake fully. It would be dishonourable to proceed without giving him a choice, and worse to do so while he was effectively unconscious.” Lord Tam said, sounding very much as though he was repeating himself. Trerin would have cheered if he could, Light shine on him and his sense of honour; he was opposing Lord Jareth. Lord Jareth made an impatient sound and span round to stalk away from Lord Tam, running his fingers through his hair in a very frustrated manner. “Lord of Light!” The old Sorcerer declared to the ceiling, “I give the man a taste of command, and now he thinks he can tell me what is right and wrong!” “Quiet, Jareth, Tam is right and you know it!” Lady Aren said sharply. “We asked Trerin’s family because the man could not answer for himself. Now that we come to do it, he is lucid enough to understand and answer, so of course we have to ask.” Lord Jareth jabbed a finger at Lord Tam, “And if he says no? You know what the Gleaning said would happen to Crystu and all of us if he is not with you at the right time.” Lord Tam shuddered visibly. That was the second time that they had mentioned a Gleaning. Trerin wondered what the vision had shown, that had made them consider a forbidden Spell. Judging from the anxious look that Lord Tam gave his Lady, it must be bad. “What did the Gleaning say?” Jathte asked curiously, “You never did actually tell me, Da.” Tam looked at Trerin and met his eyes, while answering Jathte. “If Trerin is not bound to us, and with us in the right place at the right time, Crystu will be captured by Zindons, converted, and will become the dark lord’s bride. She will mother his children, and lead his armies against us.” Jathte inhaled sharply, and Trerin rolled over to lie crouched, staring back at Lord Tam, horrified at what he was hearing. “Are you certain of that?" Trerisia asked. Lady Crystu nodded, "As certain as is possible with a Gleaning." Lord Tam walked to Trerin and crouched down in front of him. His glance at Trerin's front paws said that he was well aware that he was in easy reach of the powerful and sharp claws that had once shredded his skin. He looked Trerin in the eye. Trerin knew immediately that, no matter what choice he made, Lord Tam would not accept a ‘no’ as an answer. How could he? If their interpretation of the Gleaning was correct, Lady Rykatu Crystu's fate depended on this binding taking place. The fate of the rest of Tyreen would not influence Lord Tam as much as that, and he would do whatever was needed to keep her safe. "Trerin,"Lord Tam began, "You took two vows when you and Seldar Bonded. You have failed one of them but the other still holds." Trerin shuddered at this bald reminder that he had let Seldar down. "Tam!" Lady Crystu protested his insensitive statement. "Tam is correct, Crystu." Trerisia said quietly, before Lord Tam could reply, "Seldar is dead, Trerin is alive. Whatever the circumstances, Trerin has failed to fulfil his second Oath." Aren nodded her agreement, although all three Sorcerers looked shocked at this apparently calm comment from Trerin's sister. Trerin closed his eyes. He understood. The other Ponfourii spoke as Ponfourii, and judged him a failure. They were correct. Whatever the strange voice might have told him just after Seldar's death, and it did not matter that Seldar had made the choice, not Trerin, he had failed to save Seldar. He lived, who had sworn to die to save Seldar, and Seldar had died. He could feel the pull, which called him to leave and look for death, growing stronger with each passing day. He did not want to be bothered with decisions and people and words. "The first Oath still holds you, Trerin." Lord Tam's implacable voice cut across his thoughts, "You swore service to the Lord of Light. You can refuse us, leave here and seek your death in battle, but if you do you will have failed to fulfil the first Oath too. You know now what is at stake." Trerin's eyes snapped open! "If you agree to this, you will be in the right place at the right time to stop the dark lord triumphing." Lord Tam went on relentlessly, "You will say something or do something and his plan will be foiled. I do not know where, when, or what, but you are the key to preventing his victory and saving Crystu and us all." Trerin snarled, and was gratified to see Lord Tam flinch very slightly, although he did not move away. He did not want to agree to this; it was wrong, but Lord Tam had chosen his argument well. If Trerin refused, he would be dishonoured; he would have chosen personal preference over his duty to the Lord of Light. He would have voluntarily abandoned his first Oath and he would eventually have to account to the Lord of Light for his dereliction. If he accepted, he would be bound to these two until they freed him. He knew without them saying that they would not free him until they were sure that he had completed his Gleaned role. Tam gave him a choice that was no choice at all, and Trerin felt anger rise in him again. He had never been a man who became angry easily, but now he was furious with all of those here in this room, with the strange female voice that had turned him away from death when his Bond snapped, and also with the Lord of Light for demanding this of him. He glared at Lord Tam, teeth bared, but Tam held his gaze firmly. Trerin looked around the room at the others. They all seemed to be holding their breath waiting for him to respond. Trerisia had folded her arms and was giving him her best 'big sister knows best' look and Jathte was watching her. Lord Jareth looked as though he wanted to speak, but Aren had a tight grip on his wrist; her fingers digging in to his flesh. After a moment she relaxed her grip and smiled apologetically at her husband. Lady Crystu was biting her lip watching her Ponfour and Trerin. Trerin looked at her; he could see understanding in her eyes, and, perversely, it made him even more angry. Lord Tam knew that he had knowingly manipulated Trerin, but he had told him the truth, and had at least given him the opportunity to refuse. The fact that, no matter how Trerin tried to find an alternative there was none, was not Lord Tam’s fault. It was not Lady Crystu’s either, but she was the one who would perform this Spell. Plus which, she was a Sorceress, and a Sorcerer had betrayed him and left him to die alone, and he needed to focus his anger on someone. Trerin knew that he was being unreasonable, but he could not conquer his anger and now he glared at Lady Crystu. She held his gaze, but he could see that it was an effort for her to do so. “Trerin!” Lord Tam said sharply, causing Trerin to break his steadfast stare at Lady Crystu and turn his head to her Ponfour instead. “What is your decision?” Lord Tam spoke each word very clearly. Trerin looked at him and his anger evaporated, replaced by tiredness. He nodded once, firmly, before putting his head on his paws and closing his eyes in resignation, Of course it might not work; he remained as a cat because he could not sustain focus for a Shapeshift. Unless this Spell corrected that, he would still be unable to Shapeshift afterwards.

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