"Long before the age of ice and cages, Veloris Three celebrated its ascension to the best inhabited planet in the Pixlis Galaxy. The arrival of man, well, humans altered Veloris Three forever, to which the elves have never quite forgotten or forgiven," Marshall Johnson said to a small group of people.

His voice rang out, clear and deep. Minister Johnson as he was known to most, grimaced. "Let us bow our heads and pray for Eve, Evelyn and Ellen Smith of Earth."

They bowed their heads and prayed silently as Minister Johnson spoke to God aloud. His voice shook with full emotion.

Towards the front of the grouping, Grace and John Smith hugged each other and wept openly. Behind them other members of the colony pressed closer as if afraid to be left on the fringes of the group.

"Amen," Marshall said and the group echoed it back to him.

They had buried the three girls, but not before they had all seen what had happened to them. The bite marks, the savagery was brutal, but what scared him were the eyes. They were gone. It was as if their souls had been sucked out or burned out of them.

"Elves," John Smith said, his voice strained and tired. "Is there any doubt, minister?"

Marshall shook his head. He could feel the cold air against his ears as it blew across his hair. "Elves."

The crowd dispersed with the mumbling of elves. Condolences were given with trembling voices and pats on the back. They went back to their camps that were dotted throughout the Western Forest.

John Smith stood close to six feet and his blonde head was hung in despair. "So the stories sent to Earth were true?"

"It appears so," Marshall said. "But what did we know of elves? They make cookies and Christmas gifts."

John sighed. He brought his eyes to Marshall's. "We were warned! Now lookit. I've lost three daughters."

Grace Smith grabbed her husband's hand and tugged. "Don't go talkin' to the minister that way, John. It's God's will…"

John's face features construed into a mash of fury. He spat at Marshall's feet. "Screw God and you!"

Grace gasped and fell forward to her knees. "Forgive us minister. Forgive us!"

He understood their pain and their confusion. They needed someone to blame. He glanced down at Grace's bowed head and said calmly, "There is nothing to forgive."

She hesitated and finally stood up. With an angry glance at her husband, she disappeared into one of the two handmade tents.

John, however, remained outside the tent, glaring at Marshall. A little bit away rested the newly buried bodies of his three daughters. Beneath his green eyes were heavy, dark circles and his mouth seemed pressed into a nearly invisible line of grief. "You can't bring 'em back."

"No, I can't," Marshall agreed solemnly. "There is nothing I can do. You must make peace with their passing as best you can."

"Screw you!" John said bitterly, his eyes overflowing with tears. He spun around and climbed into his tent without a second look back.

Marshall closed his Bible and made his way back to his own tents. As he moved through the gloomy forest, he lifted his lantern to guide his way. The oppressive dark seemed to consume the light, and he stumbled and tripped often.

He thought back to the hellish night. They had only been gone a short while. A meeting had been called back at the campsite of Avery and Aaron to settle a quarrel that had come up. Here in the middle of a foreign planet, no police could regulate the situation. There were no laws and no conscience, it would seem.

To prevent anarchy, the colonist often used a jury system where people of the colony would listen to both sides and vote, with his vote being the tiebreaker if one was needed. As a minister, he was the sole figurehead for justice and equality.

They saw the flash of azure light and heard the girls' screams. They hurried as fast as they could back to the Smith campsite. It had only been a few minutes, but the girls, oh father, the girls--

His mind stopped as he reached his camp, as if to alleviate the sordid images that whipped through his mind. He noted the extinguished campfire. Curse the howling, frigid wind of this hunk of ice, he thought as he sat down his lantern. He set about getting a fire started again, for he knew he would not sleep well tonight.

#

The bright sun chased the blackness of night far into the reaches of day. The wrangler birds cried as they flew across the Western Forest. The morning’s calm was shattered by shrieks.

"Minister Johnson! Come quick!" shouted Grace Smith as she stumbled into the clearing. She stood outside his tent, screaming.

Groggy, Marshall got up from his sleeping mat. The cold wind wafted against his face through the split in the tent. His muscles ached from the previous day's digging of graves, so he was slow in moving. The panic in her voice however prompted him to move quicker.

"Grace? What's wrong?" he asked as he crawled out of his tent with his shoes in his hands.

"John and 'em going after the elves!" she screeched, her breathing ragged, her face wet with tears. "He, he--"

"All right, calm down," he said as he stood. "Take a deep breath."

She did as instructed, but her eyes were round with fear.

"John's going after the elves," he said gently.

She nodded.

"To avenge his daughters' deaths," he finished.

Grace nodded again. "You must stop him! I've already lost my girls…I can't lose my husband."

At this she began to cry again. With her hands over her face, she dropped to her knees on the wet ground.

Marshall hurried through the forest to the Smith's camp. He could hear shouts and applause as he neared the clearing.

"We are not goin' stand by and let 'em elves kill us!" John roared. He lifted his gun high in the air and the crowd cheered.

"No!" they yelled.

"What's going on here?" Marshall asked quietly as he came into the clearing. "Jim, Marcy?"

John turned around. His mouth quivered in fury and he spat, "Mind your business, minister."

The group behind him screamed an unanimous, "Yeah!"

Marshall moved his eyes across the faces and said, "This looks like a lynch mob. This isn't the way to solve--"

John said, "Now minister, we ain't waitin' for God to take care of this! So move your black ass out of the way!"

Marshall's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. His hands balled into tight fists. Even here far from Earth, skin tone should matter not, but in the minds of fools...

Grace stumbled into the clearing. "John, you'll be killed! Don't you see that?"

He glared at her and then turned his back on her tear-stained face. "Let's go!"

She grabbed his arm, crying and pleading, but he shook her off. The mob marched forward in the direction of the Algora plateau, to the elfin city, Graimere.

Grace looked to Marshall with red, swollen eyes. "What do we do?"

He bit his lip. "Pray."

#

Meanwhile, across the distance of hundreds of thousand of miles, lay the sister planet to Veloris Three, Veloris, often called the Ice Planet. Princess Zoë nudged her danker beast up the steep slope to Stocklah. Nature provided the noise of squawking wrangler birds, chirping of harmony birds and the growls of kowlettas as a backdrop to the picturesque day. Sounds echoed through the cold air. The day was not as young as she had first believed. Already the sun lumbered toward night. The wind blew chilly air, and Zoë knew that by nightfall, the temperature would be barely above freezing.

She pulled her shawl tighter around her thin shoulders and glanced behind her. Alone, the trail to Stocklah could be dangerous, especially for a young princess.

Nevertheless she had to be free. She could stand the tension inside the castle no longer.

Her father and mother did little more than argue now. She tucked a rogue bouncy ringlet behind her ear. Her hair, as dark as the freezing night, shimmered under the sun's parting rays.

Would I be missed? she wondered.

She snorted at the ridiculousness of her answer. Of course she would be missed. She was the princess and the sole heir to the Veloris throne. Her heart tightened at the thought of her father's angry face once he discovered her missing. She would not marry Prince Evon from Saturn Four. Arranged marriages resulted in a messy mix of martial discomfort and constant arguing as was the case with her parents.

Shuddering she coughed and her breath escaped in wisps of smoky air. The cold would wane once she reached Stocklah for it was an oasis filled with flowers and other vegetation. The oasis's waterfalls flowed freely, warmth prevailed throughout and flowers and animals cultivated without interruption. Caves existed that contained the ancient people’s writing and beliefs. It was as if she was in another world.

Her danker beast passed gas and moaned under its thick, heavy heap of hair. The closer she got to Stocklah, the warmer the temperature and dankers were adaptable to the planet's frigid degrees, not for the oasis's tropical temperature.

Slowly the snow crusted ground gave way to muddy dirt and eventually to vegetation. She steered her danker beast to a patch of melting snow under a huge oak tree. Its skeletal limbs reached up toward the sky and tiny hints of green indicated a future blossoming of flowers.

"Here's where I leave you, Thahana," she said softly. Zoë patted her on the head. "You be good."

Thahana munched on some green sticky planets called hornas. They smelled sweet but where harmful to people.

The rest of journey, Zoë traveled on foot. She removed her water skins and her small sleeper pad. Once secured on her back, she hiked for nearly an hour before she reached the plateau.

From the plateau the edge dropped-off some several hundred paces downward into a valley. The screeches, songs, and calls of several birds and animals provided a chorus of wild, untamed animalistic music. It was a tropical paradise surrounded by cold, snow-capped mountain peaks.

Directly to her left was a thundering waterfall that appeared to pour right into the oasis as it raced down the steep slope of the mountain and over the plateau and into the valley.

As she drew nearer, the waterfall's crashing waves drowned Zoë’s thoughts. She removed her shawl and carefully navigated down to the bottom of the oasis where the caves, the grass and the onk petals bloomed.

Fighting and losing the urge to be careful, she raced down the thin trail that twisted downward to the oasis.

Once she reached the bottom, Zoë danced and spun around amongst the flowers and the strong blue grass, happy to be alone.

#

Back on Veloris Three, Marshall waited at the Smiths' camp. The sun had started its descent and he wondered if the rest of the colonist had indeed attacked the elves. The move was entirely foolish, but in his grief, John had done what he felt was right. The others acted solely out of fear, which had a way of forcing one to commit stupid acts.

"Minister, you think they comin' back?" Grace asked softly from her seat across from the fire. The shadows cast on her face made her look older. Marshall could make out the grayish circles under her eyes and the haggard look of a woman on the edge of losing everything.

"God willing," he said, for it was all he could think to say. Was he lying to her? Inadvertently, he guessed he was and he pondered this course of action. What would he be doing next? Getting married?

She stood up and paced back and forth across the hardened ground. "This just ain't right. They should have been back by now."

He nodded, afraid to speak for he may lie again. The woman had lost her three daughters and her husband all in the span of two days. The reports to Earth were right. The elves did bring death.

The messages to Earth had been all the same. Stay away from Veloris Three. Still they were between a rock and hard place. Stay on Earth and live in rat infested, nuclear-waste dumps or move to an unknown planet with a group of elves that ate humans.

Maybe it was the embracing of the second wave of Manifest Destiny that swept through the United States, or maybe it was some of the colonists’ beliefs that they could kick the crap out of and defeat any puny group of elves that had swayed them to select this planet.

After all, what did they know of it? Elves weren't bigger than an average two-year-old human, right?

Wrong. They were dead wrong.

And three beautiful, blonde girls had paid for their stupidity.

The elves on Veloris Three were not small, white or friendly. These elves were tall as any basketball player, dark-skinned like Africans and deadly. They feasted on human skin and the soul snatchers…

He shuddered.

"Look! Minister! Look!" Grace shouted as she pointed in the direction of a bopping light. "That's probably them!"

Marshall stood slowly. He said calmly to Grace, "Listen, maybe we should wait-"

But Grace wasn't listening. So intent on seeing her husband again, she hurried to the edge of the clearing. "John, John!"

Fear gripped Marshall for he hadn't noticed that night had descended. The lights of the fire only made the surrounding dark seem more sinister. Something wasn't right.

For one, the colonist would have been excited if they had returned victorious…

"Grace, don't go any closer!" he shouted "Wait for the signal."

Within seconds an azure light lit up the campsite, forcing Marshall to shut his eyes. Then he heard Grace scream, her wretched yells pierced through the terror that seized him. He opened his eyes just in time to see the elf appear from the forest. The elf's gray eyes loomed large and in his hand he held a blue pulsating sphere. At his feet was Grace Smith's discarded body.

"No!" Marshall screamed for where Grace's eyes used to be were blackened, empty sockets.

"Your turn," the elf said and lifted another sphere from his pocket.

Marshall ran. He darted through the darkened woods, tripping and slipping in the inky-dark. He did not hear the elf follow, but he really couldn't hear anything over the loud thundering of his heart. With speed he didn't know he still had, he dodged most of the trees and in some cases slammed his shoulder into a narrow trunk at the last second.

His adrenaline forced him forward. Panting, he could not stop to look around or to check for the elf's whereabouts Slowing down could mean he'd be captured and he couldn't, no-wouldn't die on this strange planet.

"Jesus, help me!" he panted.

Suddenly from the north, a series of shouts, screams and outright panic filled the forest. Several flashes of azure light lit up in intermittent sequences. Marshall slowed to a trot but did not stop moving.

The colonist had set up camps throughout the Western Forest. It appeared that the elf had left him for last and was busy with the other campsites. Unsuspecting, they may be easier pickings than Marshall.

Drenched with nervous sweat and weary, Marshall took refuge in a small cave. He didn't know what or who was in there, but he needed to be able to put his back against something. He always feared leaving his back vulnerable. He never sat with it to the door.

He leaned back against the cave and slid slowly to the floor. The forest continued to be illuminated by the strange azure light until Marshall fell asleep.

#

Zoë rolled over as the first peaks of a new day's light slipped down into the Stocklah oasis. The warmth brushed her cheeks as if caressing her. Stifling a yawn, she sat up and wiped the sleep from her gray eyes. The sound of insects and the waterfall had lured her to inviting cozy, slumber.

She stood up and was about to take a dip in the stream when she saw brightly green light shoot out from the cave.

"What?" she asked, but stayed rooted to her spot by the stream.

She heard coughing and panting. Without waiting, she rolled her sleeper pad up into a tight ball. She glanced around for some weapon, something to defend herself against whatever was coming from the cave.

A people to whom Zoë did not know once occupied the caves. By the time her forefathers arrived on Veloris, there were no other people left. Still their strange markings and handprints dotted the orange rock of the caves as a reminder, a testament to their presence.

Her heart pounded in her chest with such fury that she felt dizzy, and she anxiously grabbed a nearby tree for support. What if it was some spirit? Some god returned to take over Veloris?

The shadow grew long as it reached the mouth of the cave.

Just as it stepped from the somewhat dim cavern, Zoë gasped and snatched up her gear to run.

It wasn't a spirit or god.

But a man.

#

“Hey! Come back!” Marshall called to the fleeting figure. She was half way up the trail that led to the plateau. She neither stopped nor looked behind her.

He crept further out of the cave into the oasis. Water, clear and serene, cut through the area and the stream glistened invitingly under the sun. The strange call of birds he’d never heard before drifted out to greet him as they passed overhead.

“Eden,” he said although he knew it wasn’t the biblical place. Still, it was the closest word to describing the place. Paradise just didn’t cut it.

As he searched the sky, he realized with mounting joy that he was no longer on Veloris Three. The two moons, Roanin and Gable, were missing from the sky.

“Lord, where am I?” he whispered. Humans lived here too, for he saw the handprints and the cave markings. He also saw a very pretty one just as he came out of the cave.

He removed his coat and sweater, suddenly hot. Sweating, he walked to the stream and splashed water onto his face and upper torso.

The elf, the soul snatcher, came for him as he expected. Marshall burrowed further and further back into the cave, fearful that it would dead-end. The soul snatcher followed, his haunting gray eyes seemed to drink in the dark.

Marshall’s terror escalated as he ploughed through the cave’s dusky shadows. He recalled tripping over something, a weed or perhaps bones, he wasn’t sure, and sliding down, down until he felt a soft, warm tingling. The shadows whirled and his view rotated with it. The area whipped around with such force, he passed out and when he came to, he was here, in Eden.

This strange world that held a paradise such as this put Veloris Three to utter shame. He glanced around before stripping off all of his clothes and shoes. Without a moment’s hesitation he jumped into the stream.

Happy to be alive, thankful for the wonderful place, Marshall Johnson wept as he swam through the water.

#

“Where have you been?” King Avery roared, his eyes narrowed to annoyed slits and his mouth pressed tightly together. “Speak!”

Zoë cringed and kept her eyes on the floor. The Great Hall had been emptied and several servants lingered in the kitchen, preparing for evening meals.

“An entire day and night you had us worried! I had twenty men out scouring the Northern Forest for you!” he continued to yell, sending his voice throughout the Great Hall and out into the foyer.

“Gently, Avery,” said her mother, Queen Zanna. Her mother’s soft brown eyes moved from her husband to her daughter. “Zoë, tell us why you have done this?”

“Zanna, she knew…she knew Evon was coming from Saturn Four,” King Avery said heatedly, but with a quieter tone.

At the mention of Evon, Zoë’s head snapped up and she glared. “I will not marry him!” she said firmly, her eyes filled with bright fury.

“You will!” King Avery barked. The vein along his neck throbbed impatiently and his hands gripped the throne’s armrest tightly. “You will because it already determined, Zoë.”

She whirled around and fled from the Great Hall, down the hallway toward the East Hall. Just before the entranceway to the hall, was a staircase.

“Get back here, young lady!” screamed her father as he too exited the Great Hall, hot on her heels. “Zoë!”

She ignored him and made a left. She headed up the spiraling stairs two at a time to her quarters. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes, but she held them in check until the door to her quarters slammed shut.

The room was large and long, more rectangle than square. Her large bed, decorated in soft lilac purple, took up most of the space. She removed her shawl and crawled into bed, finally allowing the tears to fall. They slipped down her cheeks in solemn grief.

Her father did not knock on her door. In fact, she doubted he even came up the stairs. Anger burned inside her and she closed her eyes as if doing so would somehow cause her to vanish from this place to another world.

With the thought of another world, her eyes flapped open. What happened to the stranger who came from the caves? She had not told her parents of the man, for her father was busy yelling at her.

She sat up and pondered what to do. The stranger came out of the caves, and she could tell he was not from Veloris. Could another circle be hidden within the Stocklah caves?

It had to be for how else could the stranger have arrived?

She mentally tried to summon an image of the man. His appeared frightened her, but not because he was unkempt or scary. No, he was pleasant to look upon, but he was large. Larger than her father, his eyes were brown, like her mother’s, a soft, muddy brown that made her think of sweet bread. He seemed to be human and not elfin.

Visitors wanted something. For why else come to Veloris, the Ice Planet?

Three short, hard knocks brought Zoë back to the present.

“Come,” she said and quickly wiped the wet tears from her face.

Her mother’s curly brown hair could be seen as she stuck in her head. “Zoë, are you all right?”

Zoë said nothing, but crossed her legs as she sat up.

Her mother took this to mean that it was okay to enter and came further into the bedroom. Her circlet pressed down over her thick hair. From beneath the piles of hair, her mother’s eyes were sad and worried. “Zoë, you know your father did not mean to be so rough with you.”

“He never does,” Zoë said back bitterly.

Her mother smiled, but it too seemed sad. “He- he has difficulty with his emotions. During the time you were gone, he worried nonstop for your safety. He did not sleep.”

Zoë’s round shoulders shrugged. “For that I should be grateful? He is the reason I went away.”

Her mother kissed her cheek as she climbed onto the bed. “Zoë, Evon is not such a bad man. His family is wealthy and have been in possession of the Saturn Four throne for generations…”

Zoë sighed heavily. She had heard all of his before. What no one wanted to hear from her was that Evon was a mean spirited man. He beat his servants for the pettiest of things and to that she would not forgive. To be royalty was one thing, to be hateful and tyrannical was another.

“Yes, but he is mean and cruel,” Zoë said without much support. She knew her mother would only smile and say…

“All men are mean, dear. That is why they make good kings.”

Zoë grunted, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Mother, I want to marry for love…”

It came out as a whine and she could have kicked herself for it. She wanted it to sound like it felt, strong and right.

Her mother smiled again, the same sad smile, and said, “You will learn to love him…in time.”

Zoë shook her head, but said nothing further.

Her mother climbed out of the bed and sighed “Your father and I were arranged, and I felt very much the way that you do now. Do not think that I am so old, Zoë that I do not understand.”

Zoë looked at her mother, her mouth slightly open in surprise. She had never confessed this information to her before, never in their many private mother-daughter talks had she ever said this.

“Yes, yes, but I grew to love him,” Queen Zanna said gently, “with time.”

Despite the confession from her mother’s heart, Zoë knew that it mattered little for she would never marry Evon. Her heart hardened each and every time she witnessed an act of his stupidity and over inflated ego.

“If you try to force what I do not have, I will be dead the morning of our joining,” Zoë said softly, soliciting a gasp from Queen Zanna.

Her mother’s dark skin had gone horribly ashen and her eyes filled with shocked tears at her words. “Zoë, no. This is madness…please.”

Zoë raised her gray eyes to her mother’s and kept them steady. Her chin rose high in defiance. “You know in your heart that I will do it.”

As if signaling the end of the conversation, Zoe went to her room's sole window and gazed out into the bluish-black night.

Her mother did know, and Queen Zanna was very familiar with that determined look her daughter now gave her. The streak of stubbornness snaked through King Avery’s family from the time of creation. It was why father and daughter often disagreed, heatedly for neither would budge nor bend from their spot.

If Zoë had been male, Avery would have been proud of her for her iron spirit. But she wasn’t male, and that was half of the issue.

#

Patches, the stable hand, could make out the tiny speck of a person as it labored down the Stocklah trail and through the slanting snow. The white flakes fell steadily and constantly, blurring his vision and giving him goosebumps and chills. "What in the name of the fathers…"

The stables sat beneath the layers of stone. He retreated to the warmth of the stables where inside several rows of danker beasts ate, slept and passed gas in bliss. The nuzzled together with their young in the center, protected form the frigid cold. The adults' thick hides protected them from the partially exposed stables.

Wrapping his scarf about his neck, Patches climbed on to his danker beast. He pulled the cloak's hood head and rode out into the storm. Swiftly as he crossed the clearing and through the fluffy whiteness, his mind fought against the numbing cold and icy flakes.

What was a man doing here in the middle of this mess?

As he reached the human, the man collapsed to the ground, finally giving up his trek through the deep inches of snow He gazed down as the snow quickly covered the man. Patches noted that the man was hardly prepared for Veloris's weather. He reached down and shook the man.

Groggy and freezing, the man mumbled something that Patches did not understand.

He climbed down swiftly and yelled through the frigid air, "Get up!"

The man moved, but slowly, very slowly. Patches had to help heave him onto the back of his danker beast. He noted the stranger was ill quipped for the storm, he had only a sweater and a simple coat.

Releasing a sigh of breath, Patches got on his danker beast and headed back toward the castle. This stranger was new to Veloris and the king must be notified at once.

#

"What? Where did he come from?" King Avery demanded. His eyes narrowed to angry slits of fury. His mouth quivered in rage as he glanced quickly to Queen Zanna and then plowed into a nervous, Patches.

"Sire, I-I do not know. I saw him travel down from the Stocklah trail…" Patches stuttered As the recent addition to the stables, he kept his gaze on his shoes as he shifted from one foot to the other. "He- he would have frozen to death in the storm, sire."

"You are NOT at-" King Avery shouted.

"You did a kind act, Patches. We are grateful," Queen Zanna said softly, but managing somehow to drown out her husband.

A reddish tint warmed Patches's cheeks and he smiled. "Thank you, your blessedness."

King Avery coughed noisily and said, "You are dismissed!"

When the Great Hall had been deserted, King Avery turned to his wife and said, "Dear, it is I who am king. Allow me to do my duty without interruption."

Queen Zanna lifted her eyes to his and said, "I am queen. Allow me to do my duty without reproach."

He opened his mouth to debate her on the issue and quickly closed it. Defeated he stood up and a stalked from the hall.

Queen Zanna smiled at her minor victory and stood up too. She quickly left the hall and headed out into the foyer where three doors on the left hand wall led to separate living quarters.

At the first door on the left, she turned the iron handle and went in. There, her servant, Octiva nursed the mysterious man back to health. He ate from a wooden bowl a liquid substance that was piping hot, judging by its steamy spiral.

"Good day to you," Queen Zanna said to the man.

His eyes met hers and he smiled. It was a nice smile, one that was polite, but not really amused.

"I am Queen Zanna and you are in my castle."

"Thank you, Queen Zanna," he said, his voice throaty and deep. "Could you tell me what planet I am on?"

Octiva's eyes met hers and issued a warning of sorts. Queen Zanna was unable to read more.

"Yes, you are on Veloris, the ice planet," she said softly. "Where do you come from?"

The man sat up in the bed. The thick blankets lay scattered across his legs and from the waist up, Queen Zanna could see that he was muscular and large. Not pudgy, but huge as if his bones were the size of tree trunks.

He closed his eyes and said, "I am from Veloris Three by way of Earth. My colony was attacked by elves and I fled to an abandoned cave…"

As he recited his tale, Queen Zanna's eyes made a short journey between his face and that of Octiva's. Octiva was the last of the ancient people who once occupied all of Veloris including the Stocklah oasis.

"…and the next thing I knew I was here. Well, not here but in Eden…" he finished. "By the way, I'm Marshall Johnson."

Queen Zanna smiled. "Veloris Three is far from here. But welcome none the less. You are free to join our castle. Our servants live in a community not far from here, only a short distance away."

She gestured to Octiva and the two exited the room.

As soon as the door shut, Queen Zanna said, "Is what he speaks the truth?"

Octiva said quietly, "Yes. Our people once used the circles to travel to many planets. The Allerton Circle is not the only one on this planet."

"Then there could be others?" Queen Zanna asked aloud, but it was directed to herself.

"Of course, but I believe him that the elves killed the others," Octiva said, her eyes small and watery for she was very old. "There are no others. He is alone here."

Queen Zanna frowned. "He is not alone. Zoë must have seen him yesterday if what he says is true."

Just as she spoke these words, Zoë came down the hallway from East Wing Hall. She wore her riding clothes and carried her water and food pouches crisscrossed over her hips.

"Zoë, come see what Patches has found this early morning," Queen Zanna said, her voice silky and warm.

Zoë, not wanting to fight again with her mother, nodded and entered the room. Queen Zanna and Octiva followed her quietly.

At the sight of the man, Marshall, Zoë screamed. But as she turned to flee the room, she ran into her mother and Octiva.

"Marshall have you seen this maiden before?" Queen Zanna asked as the confused and somewhat sleepy Marshall stood up from the bed.

He peered at Zoë and his eyes traveled over the course of her body and back up to her face. "I do not believe so, Queen Zanna."

"Zoë, have you seen this man before today?" Queen Zanna asked as if Marshall had not spoken.

"No," Zoë said firmly, her eyes still directed down at the dusty floor.

"Come, we have much to discuss, child," Queen Zanna said, her voice betraying her dread and signaling her disbelief at Zoe's reply. "There will be no riding for you this day."

With mounting angst, Zoë followed her mother up the spiral staircase to her quarters. Once there, her mother searched about for her father, and when she did not find him, she took out her embroidery and sat down in the chair. The sitting room's fireplace was ablaze and cast off scents of fire and wood into the room.

"It is obvious that you have seen him before. Why did you not warn us?" Queen Zanna asked again. Zoë sat at her feet, embroidering a new neckline for her dress. "Speak."

Zoë sighed and said again, "I have not seen him before."

"You dare continue to lie!" Queen Zanna's temper shot up. She raised her fist and pulled it back. "Speak truth!"

Zoë reeled back and said quickly, "Yes, I have seen him! At the Stocklah oasis!"

Seemingly satisfied with this answer, Zanna lowered her fist. "You are in love with him."

Zoë laughed although it sounded false to her ears. "He is a stranger. I know nothing about him."

She did not have to tell her mother of the dreams she had of not running away from him, but removing her gown and diving into the warm stream with him. Playing, splashing and swimming under the scented air of Stocklah. No, she did not have to tell her mother of how despite the brief look, she had etched his face into her mind, going over it and over it again and again to make sure she had not skewed it in some way. "It would be foolish for me to love someone I have never met."

"As you have said, daughter. But the fathers have their way for making us devour our own words," Queen Zanna said with knowing.

#

Weeks passed and Marshall became an integrated part of the castle's staff. He held a cottage a short distance way from the castle along with other servants. He worked the Great Hall kitchen as a cook. His life had changed, but he had not decided if it had been for the better. No elves tried to steal his soul and no one bothered him much. In fact, most of the people kept a distance from him, never being outright rude, but never acknowledging him as one of them.

Initially he thought it could be because of his darker skin. The others' light skin tones and fair eye color reminded him of those on Earth who descended from Anglo-Saxons.

Great. I am millions of miles from Earth and I still can't escape the race game, he thought.

But he was no longer on Earth and the issue of race in terms of skin tone had somehow become mute once he spoke to Octiva.

What he discovered was that it was his arrival that kept most servants from mingling with him. No one had come from Veloris Three and no one knew about the elves except for Octiva and the royal family. She alone spoke to him in conversational tones and she was the one to debunk his theory of racial prejudice.

At the thought of her, she appeared at his side. He sat in front of one of the two large hearths that heated the castle's foyer just after morning meals.

"I see that you have your eye on the princess," Octiva said as she sat down beside him. "Didn't leave her table all morning."

Marshall laughed. "Call it like you see it, don't you? I did leave the royal table several times during morning meals. I served you didn't I?"

Octiva nodded, but her eyes kept his gaze. "She is still a maiden. Prince Evon has wed another, albeit King Avery had to pay him a large sum to dissolve the arrangement."

Marshall sighed. He had no idea how Octiva always seemed to know what he was thinking. "I know."

"Her hand shall be yours, of course."

"She hardly even looks at me, unless it's to order me around like a slave. My ancestors must be rolling over in their graves right now."

"Patience," Octiva said.

Marshall laughed harder at this. "Octiva, please spare me the half cocked predictions."

"It is true I have been to the Antiqk Oracle and her future lies with you. After her father dies, her grief will send her into your arms," Octiva said slowly, her eyes non-blinking and seemingly wider, frightened him a little.

"Okay, whatever you say," he said, shakily. He stood up and fled to his quarters, eager to put some distance between him and Octiva.

#

As it came to past, some six years later, King Avery died. That very night, Zoë found herself wandering the darkened hallways of the castle, barefoot and alone. Her eyes, swollen and puffy, could shed no more tears for the father she idolized, loved and respected.

Octiva had mixed a serum to put Queen Zanna to sleep for in her grief she had ripped her clothes and snatched handfuls of her hair from her head. The servants had to restrain her from throwing herself onto King Avery's burning body during the ceremony to celebrate his life and to send him on to the afterworld of G'hana.

The castle slept in uneasy slumber, and Zoë found herself standing before Marshall's quarters. Without thinking, she lifted her hand and knocked. For it had been years, but in her mind and hidden fantasies she had loved him. Who now to turn to but the one she loved?

She heard mumblings and several items falling before the door opened to a crack.

"Yes?" he asked. His voice hoarse and his eyes the only thing visible from the sliver of opened door space.

"I-I need to talk to someone," she said softly, her voice quivering and her eyes downcast. "Please."

Marshall closed the door and then as if thinking better of it, opened it wider and said, "Come, I will hear your thoughts, princess."

Zoë entered the quarters, and immediately smelled the fresh scent of potta trees burning in the fire. The sitting room contained two chairs, one covered in blankets and supplies for living such as woodpiles, herbs, riding gear and wooden statues that had been whittled Shadows shimmered on the walls.

He removed the blankets and sat down in the chair. With a nod he directed her to the other one. She sat.

Now inside his quarters, she became aware of his dress or lack thereof. He wore no shirt and he was barefoot. His cotta pants were tied tightly around his waist and she couldn't keep her eyes from his naked chest. Broad, non-hairy and only slightly muscular, she felt like it was a roadmap to some enchanting place.

"Princess Zoë, what can I do for you?" he asked, his voice low and throaty as always.

"I-I," she stuttered. "My father…"

"Yes, your father has passed on to…G'hana?" he said, his mouth rolling over the foreign word of G'hana. "What do you want of me? I am your servant."

At that she leapt from her chair. Yes, yes, he was her servant! Why was she here? In the room with a servant? Her mother would kill her…

"I am sorry for this intrusion. Princess or not, I had no right to do this to you. Please forgive me," she said as she tucked a rogue hair behind her ear.

As she turned to leave his quarters, he too was up and out of his chair. He grabbed her arm. "Do not go…I- I am here to listen to you."

She spun around to face him. "I should not have come here."

"Why did you come here?" he asked, his eyes pleading, searching, wanting.

He released her arm and almost immediately, she wanted it back again.

"I, I," she faltered and instead stepped closer to him. Her heart hammered inside her chest and across her brow, sweat broke out in small droplets. "Just kiss me."

He hesitated, but it was only for a moment. He reached for her and pulled her into his arms, engulfing her in his embrace. When his thick, soft lips covered hers, it was all she could do to not pass out from delight.

She did not recall how long they kissed. But when he finally released her, she felt as if an eternity had swooped past. "Marshall, I, I forgot myself."

"Did you?" he asked, with a mischievous smile. "I must say this now or I may never get the chance again. For six years I labored at your table during morning, afternoon and evening meals. And for those six years, each time you called my name I felt as if I would die and go to…G'hana. Each morning it is your face I see, not the sun's. At night, it is your smile that sneaks through and lights up my quarters, not the moon's."

Tears threatened to overflow Zoë’s sore and swollen eyes. She held his gaze and when they spilled over at his words, she knew that they were not tears of grief, but of love.

"I love you, Zoë," he said quietly as he pulled her tighter to him. This was his chance to win her, to confess the pent-up love he had carried in his heart since his first fleeting view of her. "If that means I die tomorrow for loving you, than so be it."

"Oh, Marshall, I love you," she said as she took his face into her hands. "Let your heart no longer be troubled or alone."