Macster - The Missing Links

Wolf couldn't stand being inside the casino a moment longer, and so he rushed furtively to the cashier's counter near the entrance to claim his winnings--his dilemma. As he did so, the owner of the house approached him. "Sir! We are still waiting for you to collect your winnings!"

"Shhh! Not so loud!" Wolf hurried to the barred grate before the cash desk and slid his chips under it. As he waited nervously, he noticed an elderly Elf at the grate beside him. From Tony's description, he matched the Elf whose historical knowledge had upped the price on the mirror, right down to his blue wings and silver-headed cane. He was filling a bag with a huge amount of gold coins.

He noticed Wolf looking at him and shook the bag. "They say money doesn't make you happy, but it certainly brings a smile to my face!"

Wolf moaned softly. "I wish I could say the same..."

The Elf chuckled and headed out the door, but Wolf's attention was on the cashier, who handed him a sack bulging as largely as the Elf's had. "There you are, sir, ten thousand gold Wendells. Would you like to check it, sir?"

"No, thanks," he muttered, shoving the bag under his coat. Why did they have to make such a production out of this?

Suddenly everyone around the cashier's desk was clapping and cheering. In an agony of warning he shushed everyone. "Stop clapping!"

As he rushed for the door, he suddenly heard a voice that stopped him in his tracks.

"Wolf...Wolf, speak to me."

He looked around fearfully, seeking the Queen's hated face.

"I know you're there."

Finally he spotted her, in a gilt-framed mirror on a wall near the door. Slowly he approached, dreading it but knowing he could not escape.

"Why is it I can see you and never your companions? Who is it that protects them?"

Wolf had no idea, but even if he knew he wouldn't tell her. "I don't know nothing!"

The Queen pursed her lips thoughtfully, then smiled at him knowingly. "Has this girl got you under her thumb? That's pathetic. If you'd killed her when I told you, this would all be over."

How dare she think he would ever harm a single hair on his beloved Virginia! He waved a hand at the mirror as if she were a bothersome insect. "Go away, shoo!"

But the Queen would not leave, continuing her unwavering attack on his will. "This game is nearly played out. And you are a part of my plan. You always have been."

Wolf snarled at the smugness in her voice. "No! I'm not listening to you. Never!"

Gripping his coat tightly to hold his bag of winnings against him, he ran out the casino door, fleeing his own fears and desires as much as the Queen.

In the early morning hours before dawn, the Elf skipped along a narrow alley-like lane toward the auction house, humming merrily to himself. What luck it had been, finding one of the lost Traveling mirrors in an unremarkable auction! He was a personal historian serving in the court of King Olaf of the Seventh Kingdom, who had charged him with finding, recovering, and cataloguing as many lost items of great magic and power as he could from the legendary days of Happy Ever After and beyond. And now that he had won these coins at the casino, he could easily outbid anyone at the auction. What a welcome awaited him, when he returned home with that mirror!

As he turned a corner, tapping his cane rhythmically against the cobblestones, a dark silhouette suddenly blocked his path. A man in a wide-brimmed hat, smoking a meerschaum pipe and leaning on a wooden staff.

The Elf slowed, his monocle falling from his eye as he regarded the man in fear. He had seen him at the auction house, and had avoided him, his instincts telling him he was lethally dangerous. But here he could not avoid him.

Puffing on his pipe, the man watched him, then removed it from his mouth and spoke in a soft voice laced with confidence and determination. This was a man who got what he wanted.

"I know your destiny," he said. "You ask a question...and die before it's answered."

The Elf trembled, jaw hanging, as he struggled to speak. The easiest way out, of course, was to say nothing at all, to ask no questions. But this was a self-fulfilling prophecy, as this man would kill him no matter what he said. He could sense it. And as a historian, he had an insatiable curiosity. He could not die without still seeking knowledge, even if it was denied him. He had to know.

"Who are you?" he asked.

And then the stranger smiled, cruel and satisfied, and withdrew a knife from the folds of his cloak. The aged Elf still kept his dignity about him to the end, not making a sound until he was stabbed.

It was then that he began to scream.