FSE

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The park is quiet; maybe a bird singing in the distance, but nothing else that I can detect. I've been... Wandering, I guess. Aimlessly passing from place to place in hopes of answers. There are few to find, it seems. London is a lovely town, regardless of which London you speak of. I wish I knew more...

Perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. All I know of myself is that I am, or was, a dream. A creature that called itself Jack desired a physical form, and created me like a seamstress would stitch a shirt, out of the fabric of dream itself. At least, that is what the fiend told me. I doubt that such a thing could be considered trustworthy.

Since then, I have wandered through different aspects of London Dreaming, hoping to find my core of existence, my 'self', I guess. I am in a place called Hyde park now, in the REAL London. The great metropolis that stood alone before the Day of slumber. London proper is a lonely place, though lovely; like much of the world, millions of people simply ended that day. Some died, some went mad, still others... Changed. Became other than human. Most though simply were lost to dream. I often wonder if that was what I once was- a man who became lost, only to be found by a monster.

A few people wander the paths of the park, most in groups or in pairs; in these changed days being alone seems a dangerous thing. I'm told that other settlements have wards, magics to keep them safe, their populations protected from the effects of Dream and Nightmare; London, however, does not. It barely clings to the so-called 'normal' world, as if it was always a dream before all things changed. Thus it's remaining people have to live with and within dream... As well as the darker side of things.

As I have no other place to call my own, I am living in one of the many now-empty buildings in the city, near Picadilly Circus. Nobody objects, the financial structures that would once have demanded rent or labor from me having been shattered along with the world. I barter work for food, and scavenge clothing from once-occupied apartments. Many have been unopened for these ten long years, there being insufficient thieves remaining to pluck them all bare. I stand and stretch; my wanderings have not been truly of my choice; dream tends to draw you in at random, and return you to places different from where you've started. So far, I have remained human; I wonder if that will be true forever.

I begin the walk towards my current den, noting how people move to avoid meeting me. At first I tried to speak with them; since then I have learned that this avoidance, especially at night, is a survival tactic- Nightmares hide behind pleasant faces. I, who shows no real fear of nightmare, move with too much confidence for the common folk to see me as 'safe'.

I trod streets paved in the modern fashion- concrete or asphalt- which have existed as roads for literally thousands of years. Man has lived in the British Isles and London itself since before the time of Christ. Rome once ruled this place, followed by a shattered, scattered multitude of kings, queens and ministers. London has been a place for all that time, and all those dreams are here.

Close to my home, I hear a clatter and crash, followed by a scrambling of something running. A curse, followed by a rough voice snarling "Cor, Get 'em!" sounds, and I rush to investigate. Perhaps curiosity is a flaw I possess, as so far I've found a great need to investigate anything different or exciting.

As I approach the alley from whence the sounds came, a figure moving almost on all-fours bolts out, nearly colliding with me in it's haste. It yelps, skidding, and fetches up hard against the ancient brick of a building. Fast after it come two figures, ragged men of desperate mein who look at my appearance in anger and surprise.

"An' who're you? Clear off!" The first snarls. He is tall and whip-thin, face scarred and not recently shaven. "That'll be in our cookpot, not yours!"

The creature, which I cannot spare attention for yet, whimpers. I back towards it, and watch as the second man, shorter but as thin as the first flanks his companion, bearing a wicked knife. "Ours... Ours..." He mutters, staying close to his friend.

"I think perhaps that this one would not relish being your stew," I say. "Find another for the pot, the game is done for today."

"Oi, a fancy one you is," the first replies. "Oi don't see how one kin stop two 'o us. Shove off!" Imagination is not the strength of this man. His friend shifts nervously back and forth, the shadows of each stretching into the blackness of the alleyway.

I edge closer to the creature they were hunting, interposing myself between it and them. "I think not." I firm my stance, knowing that while there are two, they're starving and unfit.

Or so I think.

Darkness grows about us with unnatural speed; the smaller man's eyes, rheumy and unfocused, suddenly light with ruby balefire, an uncannny moan coming from his cracked lips. His friend doesn't react til the moan, and when he looks, his jaw drops. "Phil, yer EYES!"

Phil staggers, then his footing becomes surer. He orients on his friend, speaking for the first time. "Ey there, Mike, y'look all put-out!" He laughs, but the sound isn't anything remotely human.

Mike pulls a knife on what was once his friend, saying, "Christ, Phil, We's bin pals for years! C'mon, don' be... Fight it!" He manages to dodge the first apish swing of Phil, the long knife shining in the dark.

"Little fool, you're friend is gone. Come PLAY with us, Mikey. Come plaaaaaaay with usssss..." Phil's face distorts, the jaws pushing forward, fangs sprouting almost at random. They snap shut on Mike's knife, cutting through the metal like paper. Mike shrieks, face gone pale as the Nightmare presses its attack.

The thing distracted and Mike occupied with its assault, I scoop the pathetic thing they'd pursued into my arms and run; Behind me I hear scuffling feet, and cursing.

"Phil, please! Look, they're gettin' away!" Mike shrieks in time with a wet crunching sound, then another with no scream accompanying it. I run without stop, without pause til I reach the brightness of Picadilly Circus. I rest against a light-post, panting, my burden shivering in my arms. At the edge of the square, I see a figure approach from the direction I'd come; it stops at the edge of the light, but I cannot see if it is Mike, Phil or something else. The figure raises up its arm, something depending from it's hand, which comes into the light- Mike's head, wet with some clear matter, blood still dripping from where it once connected to his body.

"We wannnnt to playyy..." Comes from the severed head. "Commmmmeeee Pppllaaaaaayyyy..." The head drops, a dull thud as it strikes the paving. Though I know little fear, this has my heart pounding. The thing stays out of the light, Mike's horrid head now silent.

There is a sudden flare of brilliant white light, and I suddenly can't hear. I fall, still holding and protecting my burden, unable to defend against this new assault. I feel a hand on my shoulder, And someone helps me to a seated position. I'm uncertain how long this takes, and all I can see is the echo of that sudden brilliance. Minutes go by, and I can finally hear a voice.

",,, Think that he's fine. One just went off right by 'em. Dunno about that thing in 'is arms though." The voice is young, and that of a girl.

"I... What happened?" I ask.

A chuckle. '"Aw, jus' provided th' best antidote to Nightmares known to man. Flash-bangs!" A smallish hand comes into view, holding several silvery slitted cylinders. "I pitched 'em at yer frien' there, and poof! No more nightmare. Sorry y'got blasted though. One bounced right to ya before goin' off. Whatcha holdin'?"

I glance down, seeing something rust-furred and childlike in size. "I don't know. Before that thing attacked, it had been a man named Phil. The head belonged to his friend Mike, I gather. They were hunting this creature, and I intervened." The creature seems unconscious, and I can feel wet on my arm- blood. "I believe it is injured. I am already in your debt, but can you help?" I suddenly realize that my rescuer cannot be more than ten years old.

She comes closer and looks at the thing, then steps back. "Mister, that's a Runner. I ain't got no way t' 'elp it. And you'd best be leavin' it somewhere; they ain't safe!"

"I cannot just leave it. It's hurt. Do you at least have bandages?" I carefully set the Runner down; it is furred like a fox, and indeed looks much like one; however, I doubt that such a being normally has a six-inch cut in it's side. It's eyes are closed, and its breathing rapid.

The girl hesitates, the urge to run obvious in her tension. "I... I can get some. But then I gots t' go. Okay?"

I nod. "More than sufficient. Thank you..."

"Cin. I'm Cin. Like, Cindy, but nobody call me that." And she darts off. I make the Runner as comfortable as I can, and wait. Minutes pass, then Cin reappears. She tosses several rolls of sterile-sealed gauze and a roll of tape. "Old stuff, but good. I gotta go. What's yer name, mister, 'fore I go?"

I shake my head, opening the first roll of gauze. "I am afraid I have no name that I can recall, Miss Cin. But maybe I can come back and talk to you sometime? I do owe you for the help."

She thinks for a moment, then nods. "Okay, Misser Nobody. If you don' get et, I'll see you." She turns and runs out of sight. I find two of the flash-bangs sitting nearby- she left them for me.

I wrap the wound as best I can, then go to my temporary home. The lift works, carrying me and my burden to the seventh floor. The electrics in the building all function; I do not know why. The building is derelict, but still in surprising condition. I enter my chosen abode, then gently place my burden on my bed. I sit nearby, turning the wireless set to a channel playing music from the Big Band era.

I wake to sunlight streaming in through the window, and my guest staring at me from the bed with lambent green eyes. I straighten up, and it tenses as if to run. "The door is that way if you wish to go." I say, and it tilts its head to my words. On the wireless is now a news report about German bombing raid that apparently took place during the night.

It makes no move to run, and I stand. "If you feel up to it, I can make breakfast. Do you eat cooked foods?" A slow nod of affirmation comes at my question, and I make my way out of the bedroom. I make a simple meal, eggs and ham, making two plates. The Runner comes out of the bedroom slowly, favoring the side with the cut. "I did what I could; it is merely wrapped. You likely need a doctor, but I don't believe the wound is a fatal one."

"Thank you." It's words are quietly spoken, with an almost yipping quality. It takes the utinsils in its delicate hands and eats.

I begin my own meal, saying, "I wasn't sure if you could speak. I'm sorry I could do so little for you."

It stops chewing and swallows. "You saved me. How could you do more?"

I smile a bit sheepishly. "True enough. Was that... The men who attacked you. What happened?"

It doesn't answer at first, choosing to finish the meal I've provided. "They... Hungry. First one angry, second one... I smell Nightmare on him. He fall to Nightmare maybe night before, his friend not know. They hunt me... I am Runner. You would call Fey. Little Fey. Unimportant. Nightmare hates Dream, Fey is Dream, so... Runners are food to Nightmare." It hugs itself and shivers in recollection.

"I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do further to help you?"

It blinks. "Fey dangerous to make offers to, to ask things of, to do things for. Lesser Fey, not so much. Greater... Words can bind you. I... Am called Feather. What I call you?"

"I... I'm afriaid I am unlike the girl who helped us, Feather. I have no memory of who I was. I was told I was a Dream."

Feather comes closer, sniffing. "You human, you man. Dream yes, but Man. You real." She, as I'm realizing that Feather is a female, sits on the couch beside me, much as a dog might. "I need to go to Summer. You come with, maybe Greater Fey can help."

"I can do that, but I do not know the way. I know how to reach Victoria on my own, and return to where we are." I collect emptied dishes and place them in the sink for later cleaning.

"I will show." She tilts her head. "You good human. You not afraid, not hate the different."

"It is a sad thing that you have encountered not so good humans." I stand. "I suspect it would be best if I carried you, Feather. You are in no condition to walk." She starts to try to prove me wrong, but shortly is curled with tail tucked from pain. I check the wound, and fresh blood is there with the dried; with her fur matting into the dried gore, I cannot get the old dressings off without hurting her. I carefully lift her, and we are soon once again on the streets of London.

"Which way?" I ask, and she points as we go. The route is far more circuituous than what I had followed the previous day, but I find myself in Hyde Park once again. "I was just here yesterday, Feather."

She makes a little shrug. "You not know the way. Follow hedge." Following her directions, I make several odd turns and suddenly... We are no longer in the park. Cool air blows across wild heather on a hill, with white clouds scudding across a crystal-blue sky. No buildings of any kind are in sight, and a forest of ancient trees ring half the base of the hill I stand upon. The woods stretch out as far as I can see. No smell of gas or asphalt taints the air, and birdsong carries to us from the trees. "We in Summer now; others are coming. Set me down."

I place her upon the heather as carefully as possible, but it is apparent almost any motion causes her hurt. I sit next to her, absently scritching behind her ear, and wait.

The quietude and cool air lulls me as we wait, and I briefly nod off. when I snap awake, we have been surrounded. I freeze, seeing easily a dozen more Runners, and two beings, tall and fair, that can only be Elves. Bows are held directed at me, but not drawn, and I remain very still. Musical words come from the nearer of the pair, to be answered with yips and whines from Feather and her companions. The bows are lowered.

"You will come with us, nameless human. You have been named friend by Feather, and we will honor that; but answers must be found. Come."

"She will be cared for?" I ask.

"She will be healed." He quirks a smile, quickly gone, and I realize he'd not expected me to care. I stand and follow the Fey, trailed by Feather's fellows who bear their injured kin.

We walk into the vast woods. Trees, white oaks and some other strange light-barked giant rise impossibly high around me. A path, natural but well used is beneath my feet, and once again I have the realization that I have traveled without choosing to do so. We pass around a bend, and we enter a sunlit clearing. People are here, beauty of unearthly nature on their forms. They stand in a ring facing inward, where the ground forms a low hill. Upon this is a chair that looks to have grown to its current form, upon which sits a woman. But not one of the earthly realm. Apprehension rises within me, and she gestures that I should come forward. I do so, and kneel when directed.

"One of my names is Titania. I am Queen here, mortal. You will tell what has transpired." Her voice is like the most perfect violin ever played- beautiful, but with the potential of incredible violence.

I hesitate before speaking. "I have no name. I was born from Dream by the act of an evil creature, and since then have wandered the realms of London trying to learn what I am, and what my place in the world is. I was returning home in the evening, when I came across the Runner named Feather, fleeing two men. One was human, one had been taken by Nightmare. He changed and attacked his companion, at which point I picked up Feather and fled. The nightmare followed after killing its victim, but I had reached the safety of Picadilly Circus. It waited for us out of the light, but was driven off by a human girl wielding devices of light and sound. I know not if it left or was destroyed. I bound Feather's wound as best I could, and took her to where I was living. When she woke, we ate breakfast. She led me here, not being able to travel herself." I finish the abbreviated tale, and go silent.

"Why did you help the Runner? Titania asks.

"Because it was the right thing to do." I raise my eyes at this, looking at the Queen.

She considers this. "You are not quite what you seem, human. Dream is heavy upon you; you draw nightmare like wolves are drawn to a fresh-killed rabbit. I see your mind is strong, but... Your body is malleable, far more than a true mortal. Have a care, human, that you do not get shaped in ways you will regret." To the gathered Court she says, "Find the girl who saved our Knight and our Feather, and give our Knight hospitality; I name him Friend on the Hill."

She returns her attention to me, her voice quiet that only I can hear. "I name you Knight. Do not oppose this. It has a cost, but shall have benefit as well. Name the girl; she will come to no harm; by my Name I swear it."

"Her name is Cin. Cindy," I amend, "But she is just a child, and has been taught to fear the inhuman."

"With the mortal realm rent asunder, this is not so unwise." A pause, and her attention is to the Court. "Seek ye Cindy, of Picadilly in the mortal realm. Bring her with no harm to this place; with the eve we celebrate!" The Court scatters, and I am alone but for a wizened nut-brown man, no more than two feet high.

"Sir Knight, follow; chambers are prepared."

The 'chambers' that I am provided are beyond lavish. A four-poster bed large enough for a giant, a heated bath the size of a pond, and a solidly locked heavy-oak door. I look out the window and discover that I am in a castle of white marble perched impossibly upon a crag of bluish stone. It is a very long way down. I am a guest for as long as they desire, regardless of what I desire.

The walls are lined with books, a library fit for the needs of any scholar. When none appear after an hour I take one down at random. "A Tale of Two Cities' by Dickens was not what I expected to find, but I settle on the bed, and read. My peaceful interlude lasts hours, until with a barely-heard knock several beings, mostly human in appearance, breeze in.

"Sir Knight, Sir Knight!" They say in cheerful unison. "Tis time to dress, please! Hurry, hurry!" They give little time, and I find myself whisked to my feet in a flurry of measuring tapes, cloth and pins. Tracking what they are doing is fruitless, so I offer no resistance to their directives. Soon I find myself in a suit- finely pinstriped grey silk, double-breasted and tailored to perfection. My feet are shod in jet-black calf's-leather shoes, and white gloves cover my hands. On my head is a grey fedora in the American style. I am whirled before a mirror, and I barely recognize myself; not that I have had long to get used to who I am.

Grey eyes look out over an aquiline nose; a solid chin, somewhat heavy brows and strong cheekbones round out the face I see as my own; brown hair in a conservative cut atop, with eyebrows that are a bit heavy. My skin is roughened, as if that of a man used to working outdoors. I rub my chin, hearing the rasp of the barest amount of stubble. The clothing perfectly suits me, though suiting my comfort is a different thing; this seems far too... pretentious. But one doesn't insult the host by turning down such finery.

I turn around, and the gaggle of tailors are gone as if never there. I smooth imaginary wrinkles from the suit in nervousness; I know not what comes next, only that I cannot predict it. I look once again in the mirror, the niggling terror creeping in that my supposed creator might appear to steal me away, to once again wear me as I wear the fine suit.

A prefunctory knock startles me from this reverie, and the door opens once again. A young man... I think, no. A satyr dressed in the garb of a page is there, hooves clicking on the marble floor. "Your presence is requested by the Queen, Sir Knight. I am to be your page. You may call me Tap."

I shrug, glad of this rescue from my thought. "Lead on, Tap." As we walk, I ask, "what should I expect?"

He grins wide. "You shall be presented to the Queen and Court. You will be presented to your companions, and there shall be a dance." A wink. "Never fear, even if you cannot dance, you shall have that gift while here. Thereafter, belike tomorrow the Hunt, followed by a Naming." His hushed tones at the end draw my attention.

"Who, or what, is to be Named?" I ask.

His almond eyes widen. "Why, YOU are, Sir Knight! It is a great honor, one that rarely occurs with a human."

"I blink stupidly at the thought. "And the Hunt?"

"Ah, that. It is different every time. I cannot answer you here, as I lack the answers. But," he continues, "what little I have heard is that it shall be a testing. We shall see."

The hallways are lined with tapestries and statuary, all of inhuman beauty and grace; the sheer number alone dizzies my mind. The floor itself is somehow smooth, yet in the patterns of the stone still more scenes are etched in a strangely shifting yet eternal record. We pass through an ornately carved archway with rather... Carnal bas relief covering every surface; I blink and we are within a vast ballroom. At the far end is a throne where Titania awaits; a carpet of red leading to her. Crowds of elegantly-dressed Fey stand waiting her command and small winged lesser beings of the Court flit constantly about. Tap leads me forward along the carpet; I catch a glimpse of two figures just behind the throne, but I cannot make them out before they vanish from sight once again.

A hush falls, and even the tiny fliers hold still, wings blurred with effort. Queen Titania surveys the assembled, her gaze falling on me; I feel much as a fly would, bound in the web of a spider. A thought floats to the top of my mind- 'Ever the Fey live to define the term that is their name.' Another thing I cannot put an origin to. The golden eyes shift away, and she stands. Those closest to her bow in a graceful wave, and at the nudge of my caprine page I do so as well; but I lack the sinuous grace of the People of Peace.

The Court rises again at some signal I do not see, and Titania speaks. "One of our own was lost in the Mortal London, that maze of sooted stone and deadly iron. She was hunted by savages, men less than beasts who would have torn flesh from bone of our lesser kin, to feed their stew-pot. This thing did not happen. Why? Because a noble Knight, True Man of that world and Dream, placed his own life between their hunger and our kin. Born of horror, he faced the monsters his fellows had become, nightmare-ridden and damned they were. To him, who has no name, We salute and give honor!"

A shout fit to shatter stone explodes from the throng. The shock of this detonation of approval rocks me back, the shoulder of my page the only thing that keeps me upright. I glance at him, and am strangely pleased that even he, a creature of this place, has his ears pinned back at the din. The sound passes, leaving silence in its wake.

"Step forward, Knight," Titania says, and I manage not to stumble or hesitate. A small grin flits across her unearthly visage, and she curtseys. "Are we so terrifying, Sir Knight? You have leave to speak, you have earned that, and more."

I glance around to find anything familiar at all in this palace of perfection, finding nothing that can calm the urge to run like a cornered hare. "No, your Majesty; but I am... Not accustomed, nor deserving of such opulence and praise. I have knowledge in my mind that floats surfaceward at random, and nothing of memory that could grant identity or history. I am honored at this fete, but I only did what was right." The words come easy, from somewhere in me still unknown; they bring more shouts, but these are fortunately not so like a thunderclap as the first.

"Eloquent for one so lost," she murmurs. None other than myself hear these words. Louder, she says, "honorable and well-spoken as well. Let banquet and dance begin; no food of fey, no drink of fey, a promise of no entwinement for this day and night; celebrate, and the morrow shall bring the Hunt!"

Applause crackles about the room and people pair off; the Queen watches me, curiosity and calculation apparent. "Who would you dance with? I cannot, with my husband not in residence it would be unseemly, but all here would be with you tonight. In any way desired." She looks decidedly impish as she says this.

"I would not know how to ask, your Majesty; I am merely a man. May I first inquire of my companions, who I was told would be here?"

She looks less pleased with the change of subject. "They will be here. Find a partner, Sir Knight, and remember- We are Fey in all ways."

I bow, a knot of cold in my stomach. "No harm was meant, all apologies from me, who is poorly suited for Court. A better question then- whom would you suggest as partner, that would be skilled enough to evade my plodding feet?"

This returns the impish smile, if not as electric as before. "That is a better question." She turns, looking at her ladies and gestures. One steps forward, and Titania speaks again. "This one you may call Lyssa, one of my maids. She is accomplished in the dance, and I assure you, thy well-shod feet shall never find hers."

The woman bows, and I notice long ears more suited to a deer or other creature, and eyes slitted like a cat's. She offers a hand which I take after bowing in turn, and we take to the floor. Tap, who had stayed beside me til this point sits at the feet of the queen; His bestial legs looking quite strange folded cross-legged. Lyssa takes the lead, and we begin a slow dance, much like a waltz; I find familiarity in the steps, but it seems from outside of me rather than within. The blessing of the Court, I decide.

Our first dance ends, applause passing generally amongst the throng. Lyssa smiles, gesturing for me to lead in turn as the music begins for the next. It is good, I think, that this gift has touched me- In my heart I know I am not blessed with ballroom skills.

"You look perplexed, Sir Knight," Lyssa asks into my ear. Her voice is feminine and warm, with an odd feline note to each word. "Am I so strange to you?"

"No, Lady, not at all." I smile. "Merely puzzling over the dance, and how none have perished for my lack of acumen."

We turn, step and turn again, the tempo rising as she laughs at my jest. "You are talented of tongue at least, sir Knight. That is a dance as well."

The second dance soon ends, and the floor begins to empty. I bow once again to Lyssa. "You honor me, Lady, in words and skill. Will you partner with me again?"

She shakes her head in an elegant refusal. "Tis not seemly. You must choose thine own next, with no aid. Refresh yourself, then the dance will begin again." She glides away, soon once again in her place in Titania's train.

The banquet table, buffet-like in arrangement and service, beckons. I watch the court, taking my cue as to how much of each dish to take, how far to load my plate. A glass of red wine to accompany, and I find a place to listen to the babble about me as I eat. They speak English, sometimes of an archaic form; far more musical than ever Humanity could attain, there is song in their words by nature. Even as I try to hear, the magical lilting words seem to slip from my ears. I finish, the dishes whisked away by someone, something unseen the moment I start to look for a place to return them. Recalling Lyssa's words, I look for a second partner.

One maid catches my eye, perhaps because she seems to not try to do so. She is as magical as the rest of the throng, but seems lost amongst the finery. I make my way to her, and bow. "Would you, Lady, honor me with the next set of the dance?"

Her eyes widen, and for a moment she seems about to flee. She gathers her wits quickly enough, and I decide that perhaps, in this place of the near-immortals, that she is perhaps not so aged as the rest. "I... Of course, Sir Knight. It would be an honor." She bows, and I take her hand as she rises. We make our way to the floor, other couples pairing and doing the same. The music rises, rolling into a moderate pace. She keeps up, but it is obvious that, like myself, she is new to the dance.

"Is there some name you would feel safe sharing with me?" I ask.

She looks startled by the question, then shakes her head. All her concentration is on the dance. I wonder why the enchantment that gives me sure feet upon the floor does not aid her. Despite the lack of skill, she has the inhuman grace of the Faery, and she moves... Not quite as human as her appearance. I get flashes from her, hints of a form not at all human, but this hardly surprises me. The music pauses, and I bow to her. This elicits a nervous grin, and I begin to wonder if she might not be a mortal, bespelled.

The next dance is fast, very fast; even with the enchantment I am breathing hard and fighting to not make a misstep. As focused as I am I miss what happens- all I know is suddenly I am alone, and all is deadly still. I whirl around, and my dance partner is on hands and knees. About her neck is a delicate silver collar, a silver chain leading from it to the hand of a tall, pale Fey lord. No words are spoken before the crowd parts, the Queen making her way deliberately to the scene. The chain holder bows from the waist, not quite too little to lack respect. I bow as well, but fully.

Titania's golden eyes flicker over the three of us. "Sir Knight, what has transpired?"

"I know not. One moment I was focused on the dance; the next..." I gesture to the pair. "I would know too what this is about, your majesty."

Her eyes pass over my companion, then settle their golden gaze on the Lord. "Falas. Explain this."

Falas' eyes flick to the girl on the floor, then back to Titania. "She stepped false, and struck me. For this I Claim her for the Hunt."

Titania's eyes light with a predatory gleam. "The Hunt has its prey. This Hunt is yours, Sir Knight. You may lead it, if you so desire." At her words Falas stiffens in anger; if Titania sees, she gives no sign.

"If it please your Majesty... I will not hunt this girl; she was chosen by me as a partner in the dance, not as fodder for the hounds." The anger I feel somehow does not reach my words.

The Queen considers, and seems more amused than anything else. "Then, Sir Knight, you shall be in the Hunt as well; you may defend her, if you can. If you cannot... Well. I would be disappointed." She turns to the gathered throng and says, "This is the end of the Dance, let things be as they are."

A chime sounds, a pure and perfect echoing ring of crystalline tone. Fey across the chamber waver like heat-ripples. A troll is revealed, a dwarf; other things I cannot endeavour to identify. My dance partner is revealed to be Feather, panting in fear upon the floor. Perhaps I should have known. From the throne my Page approaches, leading Cin to the circle. She looks scared, rightly so, and angry. "Tol' you t' be careful, Mr. Nobody. Runners're trouble. Fey're more trouble" She glances to the Queen as if shocked by her own words.

Titania waves it off. "The Hunt, tomorrow, the Prize, your life and that of Feather. Mortals do so make things interesting!"

Lord Falas leaves, leading Feather on her silver leash; I start to protest, but Tap shakes his head no, saying, "your chance is tomorrow. Tonight she will not be harmed. The Queen will act if even one strand of her pelt is out of place, and She will know." He then leads Cin and I back to my chambers.

Once there, Cin looks in shock at the chambers. "Cor... Better'n Buckin'ham! " She wanders the rooms, unabashedly impressed. "I was in me place an' these smarmy buggers walk in, not even knockin'! 'oos you?' I asks, 'n they didn't say a thing. Then we was'n front of that Titania lady!" She glares at me. "Didja have 'em drag me 'ere, Mr. Nobody?"

I shake my head. "The Queen is not one for loose ends. If I had not told her your name, she would have found you. I am sorry that you were dragged into this." I sit in one of the overstuffed chairs at the fireside. "Would you like something to eat?"

She looks positively predatory at my words. "Would I! ... But fairy food, t'aint safe for us real folks."

Tap says, "On the word of the Queen, no food of Fey will be given. No bindings shall be 'pon you, milady." He bows and grins.

"Oooh." She thinks a moment. "Anything?"

The grin gets wider. "Of course, milady. Such would be brought from the ends of Dream and Nightmare at Titania's word."

"McDonalds! I want... Three cheeseburgers, frenchy-fries an' a Coke- a big one!" She is fairly vibrating at the chance for the 'fast food'.

Tap laughs, bows and is gone in a heartbeat. I blink at the vanishment. "Perhaps I should have asked something; but no, I did have something at the dance." I indicate the other chair. "Please, sit. Did they harm you in any way, Cin?"

"Nah. I almos' blew 'em up though." She displays more flash-bangs. "Dad were a cop, 'e was. We lived in Yorkshire; I wasn't born yet when the world got strange, but he an' mom raised me good. One day I was playin' by the school- I didn't go to it, wasn't many other kids to keep it goin', dad said. And I wasn't where I was sposed to be no more." She paused to breathe, and I realize she's been lost for some time.

"How long have you been in London?"

"Um... Half a year, I think. I don' think I can get 'ome no more." Silence falls with those words. I am rescued from further reply by the reappearance of Tap, laden with bags of fragrant food. The sight brightens Cin's mood instantly, and Tap hands over a sack and a drink to the girl. Another is set by me, and a third is kept by the satyr.

"Tis something of mortal food, especially your convenience foods as this, that draws even the Fey," he says at my expression. Cin eats as if starving, and I realize that perhaps she was. She is quite thin, now that I see her without danger lurking near. I partake as well, and the meal passes without further words.

Sleep does not come easy to me, though Cin sleeps like the dead. I have abandoned the bed for the overstuffed couch, but this is not the cause of my unrest. I fear for Feather and Cin if I should fail come the morning, and the Hunt. In this short time amongst the Fey I have learned a great deal of what I am. At the same time I have discovered even more questions. Summer seems a place of learning for me, and some of the lessons are hard ones. So many things, so many new worries and doubts whirl within my head. Finally, I call for Tap.

"Yes, Sir Knight?" His appearance is almost instant.

"I would sleep, but I cannot. Is there something that might help, that will not cause me to be late tomorrow?"

He leans casually against the couch. "Yes, if you do not mind magic, and a request."

"I would not mind either. What is the request?" I reply.

"When you go, and you will, I would go with you." I start to speak, and he holds up his hand. "I know what you would ask. We lesser Fey are not free in this place. If I leave with you as Page or Squire I would be bound to you, but more free than I have ever been. The Queen cares little what we do, as long as we mind our place; but also she acts not to improve our lot."

I think a moment. "I infer that I would have responsibilities to you?"

"In a manner of speaking. You would have responsibility for me. While I can take care of myself, if I were to die you would be bound to carry the word of my passing and how it occurred to Queen Titania. She... Might take exception. With or without reason. The elder Fey need little reason beyond whim for their actions."

"I will be responsible for Feather after all this, won't I." The realization wipes away any hope of natural sleep.

"Likely, yes. No burden shall either of us be. Will you accept?"

I rub my eyes. "Would that I could say no, Tap. Of course I will accept." He grins, then taps me in the center of the forehead; for the next while I am gone in restful slumber.

Past waking, the morning is a blur; I am fed, dressed in the clothes I arrived in (neatly cleaned and pressed), and given a selection of weapons. "Choose what suits you, Sir Knight," says Tap. "There will be conflict."

"I know not if I can use any of these, Tap." Swords, maces, axes, a bow. All are beautiful and deadly; none are of mortal make. "Are these loaned or given?"

He nods. "Gifts. You may take what suits, though I would not take all. Might I suggest?"

I step back and gesture to the deadly array. "Mortal men rarely use any of these, or they did not before the Day of Slumber. Now such dire toys are more common. We have some hours before the Hunt begins; tell me what you know of your origins?"

I pace a bit, nervous. "There is not much to tell. At least you shant judge me as humans might, which is part of my reluctance with this tale." I look out at the just-rising sun, delaying. Finally, I begin. "I remember no family, no work, no things of life before a bit more than a month ago. Then, I first woke; bearing a knife over a bound woman, the words of someone else in my mind and coming from my mouth. I fought him off, eventually freeing the woman and fleeing that place called Whitechapel. He called himself Jack. The woman, his victim, called him Leather Apron. I finally found his name in a library- Jack the Ripper." I shudder at the oily corruption that made up the substance of my supposed creator, heart pounding and sweating at the remembrance. "He claimed to have created me from Dream, but Queen Titania hinted that this was not true."

Tap gestures me to sit. He goes to a cabinet, taking out a pair of tumblers and a cut-crystal decanter laden with amber liquid. He pours three fingers in each, bearing the glasses over. "Tis early, but with a tale like that, 'tis warrented as well." He clinks his tumbler to mine, and drinks when I do. "Now. I am no master of wisdom, but that which you described could not have created you. It was Nightmare, a thing of evil, but in truth a lesser one. It needed a housing to bear its violence into the world, and that was to be you. Take heart in that he failed, as it will be a long time before he will be able to try again."

I sip again, the warmth of the scotch entering me and driving the chill of evil away. "But what did he do? How do I exist, and who am I?"

"That... You will not like this truth." Tap is quiet a time, before starting again. "When Dream and Nightmare burst into the mortal world, whole cities, whole lands were consumed by them... As were the people who dwelt within. Some escaped. Some became so changed that they could no longer leave, still others were simply... Altered, either by Dream or Nightmare. Those not accounted before this... Were lost. Absorbed by Dream utterly."

"You must have been one of these. A... Shell, emptied of all mind but still bound with a soul, Jack tried to use this as his own. But Dream... You are the sum of many lost minds, Sir Knight, or so I would surmise."

"So I'm nobody." I feel utterly lost, the scotch forgotten in my hand. Tap takes the glass gently and sets it down.

"Forgive me, Sir Knight." Tap looks miserable.

I shake myself, rubbing my head before speaking. "No... No. There is nothing to forgive. I was... I was someone, once. Now... I need to be someone again. Someone new." I do not feel the conviction I put forward, but I try to believe it enough that Tap is comforted. "I think the hand-axes... and the mace. I do have something that might be of aid as well. Am I allowed weapons of Earth?"

Apparently heartened by my apparent newfound drive, Tap says, "No iron is allowed, but there is no rule against."

That news does lift my spirits, if only slightly. "How will this begin?"

"First things first, Sir Knight." He takes the selected weaponry, finding a belt and fitting it on me. It has loops for the weapons, as well as two snap-flap pouches. I notice that the other weapons are gone as if never there. "Settle it on your hips; yes, like that. Now this ties here," he ties a tethered strap on my leg, "and the mace-hilt goes through there. The axes hang thus, heads-up. mind the edges." He steps back and nods in satisfaction.

I walk about, getting used to the weight of the tools, the feel of the axe-hilts bouncing against my legs. I practice drawing them from their loops, then the mace; I am inexpert, but I can at least get them loose without striking myself. "I guess that this will have to do."

Tap brushes his hands together. "If you will follow me, Sir Knight, I will tell what I have been told of the arrangement of the hunt. Your human companion is safe, watching with the Queen."

I glance at the bedroom, and wonder how it was that I didn't wake when she was taken, but I quickly realize that I was in magical slumber- like as not the room could have collapsed without my rousing. "I barely know the girl; she simply aided me when I could not aid myself."

"She is still counted yours, Sir Knight. Now, The Hunt itself will take place in a portion of forest, bounded by magic. Those within will not be able to leave til the conclusion of the hunt. You will enter at one side, Lord Falas at the other. Somewhere within will be Feather, as well as numerous threats to you, Lord Falas and Feather herself. You must find her before Lord Falas, stay alive, and defend her from all threats. Once she is found, the finder must make their way to a border, there to be judged victor. You can also win if neither you nor Feather is found by Lord Falas before sunset, or if you strike him down. For him to win, though, he must both defeat you and find Feather."

"It seems rather favorable to us, save for his capabilities."

"He is a master hunter, skilled with blade and bow. You have the luck in that only he and not his huntsmen nor hounds will be present; a tracker he is not." Tap scratches his ear. "And this is why he was upset. It being YOUR Hunt, he lost control of what he thought would be an easy victory."

Taking that in, I say, "victory? Not kill?"

Tap seems to shrink a bit. "There are far worse things than death, Sir Knight. He has... A reputation for creativity."

"Then I should think we cannot allow his victory."

The castle is left behind as we take to a trail; we are escorted by other lesser Fey, but none of those like the Queen are in evidence. "Tap, is there a reason for these to be following us?"

"They see you as their Champion, Sir Knight. If you wish, I can disperse them."

"No, of course not. They are welcome. We would else be walking a lonely road." I see Runners, like Feather, a few other Satyrs and other creatures not so familiar. I smile at a Runner, and he smiles back... I think. He holds his head higher after, at least.

Forest is all around us, the sun unseen past a vast dark-green canopy. Trees larger than any I have ever seen hold up the sky, the forest floor being all ferns and low bushes. I pluck burrs from my pants as we approach a series of pavilion-tents.

Tap steps forward. "To Her Majesty and her train, All honor to Her, I present her Knight, he who is Unnamed, for the Hunt!"

Trumpets shout to the trees, their perfect tone silencing the birdsong within the wood. The flaps of the centre tent are opened, revealing Titania once again on the strange tangled-root throne I saw before. "Approach, Sir Knight."

I walk to her and bow low, awaiting her; she gestures, and I rise. "I await your orders on the Hunt, your Majesty."

Titania smiles slightly. "You are polite, unlike so many mortals. Your Cindy is watching with me; the globe shall show all that transpires." She indicates a globe of clouded crystal; when I look closer, I realize that the cloudiness is moving. "Past the tents you will find a pennant. When you pass that, the Hunt shall commence. Your Page has told you the rules?"

I nod. "Yes, your Majesty. I must stay alive to find Feather and keep her safe, either getting her to a border to be judged victor or surviving til sunset."

An amused glitter comes to her eyes. "You could also strike down Falas; that is also a victory."

I simply give a smile and a bow. "What of Tap, my Page?"

Titania waves negligently. "He may watch with Us, or not, it matters little to me. I wish you luck, Sir Knight."

"Thank you, your Majesty." I give a thumbs-up to Tap and make my way past the tents. Sounds of the assembled drop away with unnatural quickness. I feel truly alone, moreso when I look behind and see no sign of the pavilions. I shrug and continue, soon finding a pennant in blue silk with a single white four-pointed star upon it. The air is cool and still, the scent of crushed fern and damp wood permeating the place. Where the ground is low I can see pockets of mist that ripple and move in the faint breeze. I square my shoulders, and with more courage than I should honestly possess, step past the pennant.

There is a sizzle of sensation, and I know that I must make haste. I move quickly within the wood, the only impediment being the ferns. I stop as I travel, listening, but there is no sound that I can identify as friend or foe.

I take the mace in my right, one of the hatchets in my left. I try to listen again, this time being rewarded by motion uncomfortably near. I get one of the bushes between me and the sound, and wait. Poor cover, but little else can serve.

Feather emerges from a stand of rough bushes, looking bedraggled and scared. "Sir Knight?"

I can hardly believe the luck, so soon after the start. "Are you hurt, Feather?" She is in her natural form, limping on three limbs. I make my way to her, and as I do I barely hear the growl behind. I throw myself to the side, and it is another Runner, but oddly twisted. I scramble away as what I thought to be Feather changes to match it's fellow.

"Fool, I would have had his throat!" The words are a maddened growl.

The second snaps at the first, then leaps again for me; I get the mace up enough to deflect it, shoving it away as the first follows with a lunge of it's own. I am already off-balance, and fall. I swing blindly with the axe; a yelp, and blood sprays across my hand. I've struck it's throat!

A howl of hate comes from the second, and it circles me as I manage to stand, it's partner bleeding dark blood across the crushed ferns. I back against a tree, hoping that there truly are only the two. It snaps and slavers, and I realize something- it is diseased somehow. The threat is not that it can kill me- it may do worse.

It feints forward, but I keep my weapons ready. I make a move forward, and instead of a retreat it charges. I let it bite the haft of the mace, and bring the axe down upon it; It drops, and I strike it twice more before I am certain it is dead. Shaking, I wipe the blood from the blade. In this new life I've not killed before. Even in self-defense, the act repulses me. I leave the pair behind me, whispering a prayer that they find rest.

I know such a fight has not gone unheard, so I get clear of the scene as quickly as possible. I know nothing of Feather's skill at forestry, and I do not know whether she will be restrained or not; I hope that she isn't; such creatures as I faced would quickly end a bound foe. At least half an hour passes before I hear sounds in the distance; a man's shout, the growls of something huge. A shuddering inhuman cry tells of Lord Falas' victory, but I at least know where he'll be coming from. Feather will retreat from him as well, I believe, and I continue my search with this in mind.

I strike up against something some time later. While there seems to be nothing, I cannot pass beyond. I've found the far side of the playing field. I see no pennant nor any watchers, but with the Fey this means little. I had entered the forest from the south, and I have reached the northern border. I turn about, then move to the southeast.

In the distance, another conflict, another strange death at the blade of Lord Veras. I move more quickly, and trip gracelessly over the low running form of Feather as I do!

I blink, staring at her as she picks herself up and tenses to run. "Wait!" The word is soft and urgent from my lips.

She is panting slightly, and the whites are showing in her eyes. "Prove yourself! I not... Won't be tricked again!"

I stand, and she backs away. "You had a long gash along your side from the men who had hunted you. One was named Mike, the other, who Nightmare took, was Phil. I carried you to Pickadilly Circus..." And she is on me, hugging.

"He came, he came and looked like you, but he wasn't- he was a Runner, but sickened with a madness!" She shivers, but lets me stand.

"They seem to like that trick. Did they harm you?" I try to see if she'd been harmed.

"No. I ran, led them into other things... One or other died, I do not know which."

I temper my gladness with caution. "We need to find a border. If we find that, we're safe."

She shifts, a disconcerting blurring and rippling of flesh; when finished, she still stands on animal-like legs, but her upper body is rather human... And unclothed. Her tail still flicks behind, and foxlike ears grace her head. "Give weapon, we will fight together."

I give her one of the hatchets, and she grins. "Smart choice- good for those who new with fighting."

We make rapid time, but when we reach what I think should be the northern border... It is more forest. "Damn, this should be it!" I start to turn, just in time to hear Feather's shout of warning, too late. The sword cuts into my side, but not enough to be fatal. I stagger back, the mace falling from my hand. Falas is there, unsmiling, no human emotion touching his features. "Ah. So I can play. So much the better." He is armored, helmed and dressed for war but no sound comes from the metal. "Fight and die, or stand and die. I care not." I manage to evade the second almost-careless swing, but fall as I do. He follows slowly, intent on my end.

There is a shout, and Feather's hatchet slams against Falas' helm, scoring it deeply; he staggers, the force of the strike enough to stun but not kill. I scramble away as he shakes his head, turning to look for his second foe. I see her, and wave violently for her to run- I also draw out one of the tiny aluminum cylinders left to me by Cin. Feather vanishes, Falas taking a few steps after her before stopping. "Fine. I shall take my time with you!" His shout finally revealing anger, his perfect face twisted in frustration. I press the trigger, and toss the cylinder at his feet.

I hardly have time to cover my ears before the detonation. When the light is gone I stand- Falas is downed, trying to function but apparently unhurt. My side is red with blood from my wound, but I fetch the mace from where it fell, and strike the Fey Lord in the head til he is unconscious or dead; I don't care which.

I find myself on my knees, leaning against the mace and not knowing how I got to that pose. Feather is there. "You live?" She sounds scared, and it takes two tries for me to answer, "yes". There is the sounding of trumpets, and I know nothing further.

There is the scent of clean linen, the feel of blankets upon me and someone's arm about me. I blink groggily, the dimmest of light coming from a crack beneath a door. There is no sound save the rustling of covers when I move. I can tell it is a woman next to me, and I suddenly realize that neither of us is clothed. I try to slip away, but there is a tightness at my right side- a sound of pain escapes me, and my companion wakes.

"No, no move, " Feather says. "I get healer. Mending not finished." She kisses my forehead, going with no shame out to find the healer.

I try to remember how I got here, and fail; I suppose that I collapsed and was brought to this place. I must have won the Hunt, given that I'm not dead. Feather returns with a tall woman who tsks at me. "Do not move, the mending takes time." She pulls the blanket back with a sigh. "At least the wound remained closed." She shakes a finger at me in a way that reminds me of an angry schoolteacher. "You do what I say; you're my patient, and I can make this MUCH more unpleasant!" She storms out, and Feather giggles.

"She is best healer." She sits on the bed next to me, her odd legs to me no longer so alien.

"Did... We win?" I ask.

Feather grins wider. "Yes! And you not kill Falas; he being healed too, but not waking so quick. All hurt was to his head."

I relax somewhat. "And you? Why are you in bed with me?"

She taps my forehead. "I belong to you, now."

"A slave?" I start to sit up, but she puts a hand on my chest. "No, stupid man. Rest, and we talk later. Heal, then answers." She taps my lips with a finger, and leaves.

Days pass before I am allowed to walk unsupervised. I bear a scar now, which goes front-to-back on my side where the blade sliced in and was pulled through. It had been a closer thing than I realized. Cin is nowhere to be seen; Tap informs me that she's been exploring, and is safe- I find that to be a relative term in our current locale, and tell him so. His only response is a chuckle. After so long prone, the first thing on my agenda is getting clean; magical realm or no, they have very familiar showers with abundant hot water. Feather tries to join me, and seems vastly amused at my discomfiture. I'm unable to dissuade her from drying me and helping me dress, which Tap watches with undisclosed humor.

"Wait, Feather," Tap says. "He must face the Queen today; the suit in the wardrobe if you would."

She looks back and forth between the wardrobe and Tap. "He not need to dress at all, I think!"

I feel my face heat, and Tap bursts out laughing. Feather looks at him as if he's insane, and goes to the wardrobe. "Fine. I help dress. But it's stupid."

The suit turns out to be a pure white tuxedo, complete with top-hat. The vest is black with a red lining, the shoes the same black calf-skin shoes I'd worn before, and black gloves. As she helps me into it, I say, "you said we'd talk later. It seems later now. What happened?"

She pauses, then says, "You threw flash-bang thing, I couldn't hear. I look, see Falas down holding head. You stood, and bash head with mace." She considers me. "You should have taken helmet first. Then he not ever get back up."

I swallow at that thought. "Then what?"

"You wobble, drop to knees. I go, ask if you alive, you say yes. Trumpets sound, Hunt over. Then you fall over. Sidhe bring you to castle, heal you. Now we have to go see Queen." She humphs, an almost canine sound. "Why can we not just go?"

"Because," says Tap, "There is still the Naming. Then we're free."

At the thought I say, "Tap, perhaps that scotch would be appropriate now." he grins, perhaps reading my mind, and fetches the firewater. Feather refuses a glass, so only I and Tap drink. "To what comes."

The ballroom is the scene, the Queen upon her throne, the gathered Fey nobility surrounding. Tap announces us, and we proceed. I've gathered quite the entourage- Cin, Feather and Tap are with me, and a mob of lesser Fey follow us until prevented from doing so by guards. I kneel before Titania, my companions as well, and rise when allowed.

"Well met, my Knight," she says, quiet enough that only those close can hear. Louder she says, "Before us is a true hero, a Mortal who has risked himself for others not once, but many times merely for the reason that it is the right thing to do. Such must be honored, and today that just reward shall be granted. Step forward, Sir Knight!"

I kneel before her, and wait. "This Man is a rarity- one who faded to Dream and returned. Dream took who he was, but not his spirit. Tho it is not in my power to restore whom he once was, I can give him that which he lacks- a Name." There is a murmur through the crowd, quickly quieted. "Names have Power amongst us, and among the wiser mortals. I give thee a Name, O Knight. In remembrance of another touched by Fey and guested by us, I give the first name of Thomas. A surname is the tradition amongst Men as well, and we name you Nought; not in mockery, but acknowledgement of your reality. Stand, Sir Thomas Nought, Knight Errant, Friend Upon the Hill! Those assembled are bound that thy Name is sacrosanct to them- none can harm you thus."

I feel... Anxious as she speaks, nameless fears rising then fading within my breast; when my name is given, my Name, a shiver goes through me- It feels true, and right, and tears come to my eyes as the throng call out congratulations, Feather hugging me.

I'm no longer alone, and I'm no longer lost. I am Thomas Nought, and the future awaits.