"You should be back in bed, resting!" Timmons stood over a pale-faced Ian as the half-elf sat in a chair in the now fully lit library. "You look like you are ready to fall on your face!"

Ian raised one brow. "I'm fine!" But his protest was little more than a whisper, so Timmons waved Marcus over to help him get the half-elf to his feet and back to his room. They'd been searching the bookshelves for an hour now and there was no sign of this "Scroll of Light" the old man had told Ian about in his dream. Ian scowled at the two. "I told you I'm fine!" He didn't put up much of a fight, though, and so they exited the library by the garden doors and started across the paths to their quarters. Ian ran a hand back through his hair as they walked.

"Look where your chase began. Look for where the dark has vanished."

"Huh?"

"That's what the old man said. I was sure he meant the library, but now I'm not so certain."

"We'll search again in the morning." Marcus offered. "You need to sleep. We'll go back over it there again when you're fresh." By this time they were nearly at the door leading to their rooms and Timmons was reaching for the door handle when Ian gave an oath in a dialect neither of the humans had ever before.

"That's it! We didn't start where my chase began!" He turned and looked across the carefully landscaped paths towards the library entrance. "It started here, when I saw the door closing! " He shook Timmons hand off his arm and started back towards the opposite wall, his half-elven eyes staring intently at the doorway. Suddenly he began to move faster, leaving his human companions cursing in turn as they hurried after him. When he suddenly stopped short ten feet away from the closed door, they nearly bowled him over, Timmons recovering in time to steady Ian before he nearly fell over into a bush. Blackthorn didn't seem to notice. Instead, he pointed above the doorway, at the scrolls carved on the wall.

"There! Do you see it? There's a hole, just over the left hand scroll!"

Timmons looked at Marcus, then both shook their heads. "We don't see anything, Ian."

"I'm telling you there is! Look, just look at that inscription. Read it and then tell me what you think!" He waited while the pair squinted up at the words lit by flickering torchlight and worked out the meaning. Timmons' lips moved silently, no doubt translating the Latin learned in the monastery, while Marcus seemed to concentrate on the flowing Arabic script. Both finished nearly at the same time.

"Light against darkness."

"Against the darkness, light."

Ian nodded, a grim smile playing across his face. "Those words under two scrolls: they were hidden here all along."

"Alright then. Nothing for it but to take a look. Timmons, give me a boost, would you?" Marcus motioned the taller man over to the wall and waited for him to cup his hands, then climbed up on his shoulders to look at the carving. Timmons' nose wrinkled.

"Did you wipe those boots before you climbed? They smell!"

"Timmons, if I'd stepped into something, you'd have known it when you boosted me up here." A low whistle floated down, and then Marcus drew his dagger and began tapping on the carving with the hilt. "You were right, Ian, there is a hole. This whole carving is some sort of plaster." A shower of broken bits of carving descended on Timmons as Marcus continued knocking at it with the dagger. A last hard rap, a last piece of carving hitting the ground, and then Marcus leapt down off Timmons' shoulders and rolled nimbly up to his feet. In his right hand was something wrapped in a piece of leather; he offered it to Ian, who stood motionless. Marcus offered the object to him again. "Take it, would you?"

Ian realized his two human companions saw nothing more than some object wrapped in a length of cowhide. To his Gifted sight, however, it looked much different.

It glowed with Power.

He took it, unwrapping the leather, revealing an ancient scroll. Uncovered, it seemed like the sun itself rested there in his hand.

"Is that it?" asked Timmons eagerly.

"Yes. It is the Scroll of Light." Ian covered it once more, then turned to the others. "We better show this to Ferret"

"Right. First thing in the morning!" Timmons nodded hopefully, then moaned as he took in the looks of the other two. " Oh, no! Not twice in the same night! You go this time, Marcus; he'll skin me alive if I wake him again!

*********

"Is there some reason this could not have waited until morning?"

A bleary eyed Ferret stared across the table at the three young men. Ian began talking and the mercenary captain leaned forward as he listened, eyes attentive as the boy spoke. When Ian set the Scroll on the table between them, he didn't touch it. He leaned back, fingers steepled as he studied it. "And this is the Scroll of Light?"

Blackthorn nodded. "Not very impressive looking to you, I know, but believe me, to anyone with even the slightest degree of magical ability, that scroll would blaze like a torch."

"That might make it a tempting target. Can you secure it?"

In reply, the half-elf scooped the scroll off the table and placed it in a cloth bag that seemed unremarkable except for some sort of rune drawn on the side. He pulled the drawstring tight and then nodded to Ferret. "The rune contains the aura put out by the Scroll for now. I haven't the time to take more permanent measures as yet."

Ferret took in the drawn look on Ian's face. "You've been pushing your limits. If you don't take time to rest, you'll be too weak to be of any use to any of us, or to yourself. Get some sleep. Now."

"But, the thief…"

"The thief's head has gone on display. The guard captain is hard at work looking for the accomplice And you will follow orders and rest. Now. We'll meet again this afternoon when you aren't as pale as milk. Marcus, you and Timmons take him to his room." He watched as the other two rose from their chairs to stand on either side of Ian, who started to argue but then thought better of it. He nodded and stood with the others.

Ferret smiled "The Scrolls have been here for centuries. A few hours more before dealing with them won't matter."

He would rue those words later.

06/2001

Champion: Part XIII

Several hours later, the chattering of birds in the trees outside the window woke Ian up. For once he didn't climb out of bed immediately; instead, he lay there, his mind turning the previous day's events over and over in his memory. Something niggled at the edge of his thoughts. He took a deep breath, then another, and then centered his consciousness on the problem.

**********

His name was Jhalid ibn Husain, and for twenty years he had been the Captain of the Guard at the Alcantara palace, and had served well and faithfully. Over the years he had come to be a respected figure among all the communities of Toledo.

So when he approached the main inner gate of the palace leading a fine horse and with a pack slung from the saddle, the guard didn't even blink an eye. "The search over, milord?"

Jhalid nodded. "If there was an accomplice, he is not to be found."

**********

The accomplice!

Ian stared thoughtfully at the whitewashed ceiling. The dead guard outside the library had been killed, either before the thief had entered, or after, to clear the door so he could escape Ian's pursuit. The half-elf frowned. But wouldn't the shouting have alerted the soldier and bring him into the library to investigate? Then he had to have been killed earlier.

*********

"So, what's in the bag?" The sentry gestured at the cloth bag his Captain added to the pack on his horse.

"The thief's head, for display in the marketplace. There is a reward, a handsome one, for any information." Jhalid gestured toward the gates. "That is, if I manage to get to the marketplace before nightfall."

The soldier laughed, then signaled the men on the wall over the gate to raise the portcullis.

**********

It had to be someone the dead man knew and trusted. A member of the palace staff, a servant, perhaps; maybe another guard? There had been no sign of a struggle.

Ian scowled. This wasn't going to help them find the Scroll of Darkness any sooner. He sat up, swung his legs down to the floor and began dressing. Maybe the Captain had a different perspective on the problem.

*********

"Captain Jhalid! A word with you, please?"

A well-dressed man, a Christian noble, approached the gate just as Jhalid climbed onto his horse. "That mercenary commander refuses to allow me to leave for my home. He says no one can enter or leave the Alcantara until the king so commands! But here you are, riding off? Is it only Christians who are to be held here like prisoners?" He reached out and set a hand on the bridle of Jhalid's horse.

The gate was open, but the sentry now looked at Jhalid, puzzled, and began ask a question. He never finished it.

Jhalid ibn Husain, loyal servant of his king for many years, watched on in horror with the last shred of his identity as his hand drew his sword, and then slashed down at the man beside the horse. A second swing of the blade removed the sentry from his path, and then he was through the gate, riding swiftly through the marketplace, forcing panicked merchants and customers to scatter away as best they could.

The strange behavior of Captain Jhalid shocked many of those who had known him.

But Jhalid ibn Husain, as he rode out of Toledo as fast as possible, was not himself. He never would be again.

*********

The sounds of shouting and running feet attracted Ian's attention just as he left the mercenary quarters and stepped out into the hallway. He followed a crowd of guards out of the palace and towards the gates of the Alcantara to find a group of familiar faces gathered there. Master Ibrahim was bent over two figures sprawled on the ground, and as Ian walked up, the physician covered the face of one and rose. Ferret turned to Ian.

"The Captain Jhalid apparently was the second man all along. I would guess he had the Scroll and nearly made it out without notice."

Ian thought of what the strange old man had told him in his dream and shook his head. " It's more like the Scroll has him now, or rather Zantaras does. How long since he did this?"

"A half hour. Only a few men with horses were near enough to give pursuit, but he was already out the city gates before most realized what he had done." Ferret looked at the young half-elf. "You're going after him?"

By this time a large party of guards arrived, escorting al-Quadir. The king of Toledo paled as he saw the dead men, then flushed with anger. "Send the ifrit to bring Jhalid's head back to me, Captain Ferret. I will pay handsomely to see this traitor dead!"

Ferret bowed, then turned back to Ian. "Take as many men as you wish" .

"Best if it's a small force." Ian pointed to Marcus and Timmons, both of whom Ian now thought of as friends. "Get your gear and meet me back here in a half hour."

"I'm going with you, too." Diego de Vivar stepped out of the crowd and stared defiantly as Ian shook his head.

"We have to move fast. This will not be the sort of trip you are used to taking, sir."

Diego pointed at the man Ibrahim had just examined. The body was wearing the green and gold colors of the De Vivar House. "That is my cousin Martin de Vivar, and I had sent him out to ask about when we might leave for home. If he lies dead here now, it is because of me. You want to move fast? I know this country better than you ever could. And, Ian Blackthorn, I am the son of El Campeador, and you've no idea what sort of trips I am used to taking."

Blackthorn let out a breath, then nodded. "Alright. Fetch what you need. If you aren't here when we are ready, we won't wait for you." He bowed to the king. "With your permission, Sire, I must prepare as well."

al-Quadir nodded, and Ian followed the others back into the palace.

There were, he knew, really only two things he needed in his room.
One was his sword.
The other was the Scroll of Light.

07/2001

Champion: Part XIV

After so many years confined within the walls of the Alcantara, the sensation of movement and the touch of a breeze on the skin as his horse galloped steadily away from Toledo was as intoxicating as wine.

He was free!
He had been patient, so very patient. He had been caught off guard by the execution of his former vessel after his Shadows had brought down Toledo for the Moslem invaders. Instead of gratitude, he had received death and internment in the walls of the very palace he had delivered. It was only with the death of "ibn Zantar" and the return of his essence to the Scroll that he had sensed the presence of the Others. It was an agent of the Light that brought about the placement of the two Scrolls over the library door in order to keep him entrapped.

But he had time. Over the centuries, Zantaras had waited, slowly extending his power until he had created his Shadow rats. He was also able to seize new vessels to let him move freely about the Alacantar, each carefully chosen for their free access to all parts of the castle. The last before Jhalid had been an old man, a trusted adviser of al-Quadir, and it was in this guise that Zantaras finally discovered the hiding place of his Scroll.

The horse began to slow, and drawing on Jhalid's knowledge, Zantaras dismounted to walk for a time. It would not do have the beast tire itself out too soon. That was what had happened with the old man; the heart had begun to fail, so it had become imperative to find a new vessel, and he had begun the search, using his Shadows at first to seek out a body whose owner had magical abilities. His attempts had led to failure and the mysterious deaths in bed that had frightened the king. Then the brave Captain of the Guard had fallen deathly ill, and in his weakened state had been easy prey. Everything had been so much simpler from then on, and now, at last, he was free.

The man who now thought of himself as Zantar ibn Jhalid smiled, rubbed the horse's neck, and looked towards the south.

********

"Are you sure you don't want to take something else along? Your bed, perhaps?"

Big Harold sat watching Timmons and Marcus hurriedly shoving items into their packs with a dead serious expression on his face. Ian had already dashed in and out, and was now having a last minute conversation with Ferret and Ibrahim while the other two finished here. Timmons buckled a last strap and grinned at the big Saxon.

"You're just jealous because you aren't going along. Don't worry, Harold, we'll tell you all about it when we get back. Won't we, Marcus? "

The redhead grinned, nodded, then clapped Harold on the shoulder as he walked by and out of the room. Timmons started after him, then stopped as the tall axeman grabbed his arm and shoved something into his hand.

"Here, take this for luck."

Timmons frowned as he looked at the silver penny in his hand. He'd seen it before; it was Harold's lucky penny, a coin issued by the last of the old Saxon kings of England before the Norman conquest. "I can't take this."

"I have no need of it anymore. You will. Take it." Harold closed Timmon's hand firmly over the luckpiece. "The others, Blackthorn and Marcus, they will lead. You will be like me, the one who watches their backs."

"That's your job, Harold! It will be for a long time."

The Saxon shook his head. "I will not see England again. I had the runes read for me and the seer warned me I would die far from home.

"Harold, that could be years from now. Here, take this back."

"I will wager that I am right, then."

"I don't bet! Besides, if you die, I can't pay you!" Timmons shook his head in exasperation. "Alright. Three gold pennies, just so I can have the satisfaction of never letting you forget how foolish you were!"

Harold nodded, spat in his palm, and held out his hand until Timmons shook it. "Done and done. And you will know how to pay me when you lose."

"Fine. I'll see you when we bring Jhalid back. You can pay me off in ale." With that, Timmons shoved the penny into his pack, then slung it over his shoulder and with a last cocky grin walked out of the room.

**********

Blackthorn and de Vivar were already mounted and waiting as Timmons approached the gate. Marcus held out the reins of a lively looking roan towards him and then climbed onto his own horse while Timmons secured his pack before mounting. Ian waved to the guards and the gates began to open, then he turned to de Vivar.

"Ibrahim believes the Scroll will head for the south and the cities that are firmly in Moorish control. Are you familiar with the fastest routes to them?"

Diego flashed a smile. "I was riding on raids in the south with my father when I was a boy. Aye, I know of a few shortcuts that will cut the lead of this Jhalid. Let us be clear, ifrit: I care nothing for this 'Scroll.' I want the man who killed my kinsman, and I do not care if he is alive or dead when we return here. The other is your concern, not mine. Now, try to keep up with me if you can!" He turned his horse and galloped out of the castle as the three mercenaries exchanged glances, then spurred their own horses out in his wake.

This, Timmons thought to himself as he bent low in the saddle to avoid a low awning in the street outside, was not going to be pleasant trip.

07/2001