primarily by glitz and glamour vids of well-meaning but naive innocents fighting power-hungry demons. That, or what the scandal mongers on the news channels said.
So what did they really do on Capitol Hill?
Daken shook his head. "Your words are strange to me. The Elven Lord studies magic. He has brought others here to help him increase his powers."
The light suddenly went on in Jane's mind. "So, this is a pacifist government, meaning no weapon play, no guns and bombs and stuff." She'd already noticed few people here carried even small daggers like hers. "But they study magic. And let me guess, there's probably a few people here who concentrate on aggressive, offensive spells."
Daken raised his eyebrows, and his eyes sparkled with appreciation. "For a fool, you are remarkably intelligent."
They resumed walking toward the oldest, most dilapidated structure while Jane looked around, trying to absorb the feel of the campus. Then Daken held open a door into the crumbling building.
Jane hesitated before entering. "Are you sure it's safe? This thing looks like it's about to come down around our ears."
Daken looked up as if noticing the old mortar and weather-beaten bricks for the first time. "Don't worry. This is the most well-protected building in the Elven Lord's realm."
"This one?" She glanced into the dark, gloomy hallway beyond the door. "Why?"
"Because of what is in here. Come. I'll show you."
She suppressed a growing sense of horror, mentally girded herself, and stepped in. As the door sealed behind them, Jane fought panic. She felt entombed in these walls, wrapped in the musty smells of age and disuse. She stepped forward. Her sneakers squished on the concrete floor, and the sound echoed in the darkness.
"This is weird," she said in a hoarse whisper. It was like entering a library long since abandoned. The feeling was sad, almost sick, definitely dead.
"This is the home of one of our oldest legends."
He guided her along a well-worn path down a dark hallway, sparsely lighted by an occasional candle.
"It is said," he continued, "an old soul hidden among the people will one day come here to open the door to vast knowledge. Every one who visits Bosuny comes here to see if they are the one to fulfill the prophesy."
A cold chill skated down Jane's spine, and she pushed herself into a false levity to counteract the oppressive feel of the building. "What, they show up expecting to whammo-presto find a key hidden on their body? Like King Arthur's sword in the stone?"
Daken shrugged. "I don't know. I have never been to this building. And I don't know this King Arthur."
She waved aside his regrettable ignorance of one of her favorite legends. "You've never been here? But I thought you said everyone comes here."
"My brother and parents have been here, but..." his words faded as they rounded a corner and arrived at a heavy metal door.
"But..." she prompted, a little awed by the sudden cloak of calm expectancy that settled around Daken. It was as though he were preparing himself for a great battle.
He glanced down at her, his lips quirking in his wry smile filled with self-mockery that she found so endearing. "The day I was born, my mother had a dream. She said I would fulfill the prophesy, but I wasn't to come here until I was of the age of majority."
"Until you were twenty-one?"
'Twenty-four. Two full cycles of years."
Jane did a swift calculation. "A cycle must be twelve years."
Daken nodded absently, his attention focused on his hand as he slowly placed his palm on the door.
"How old are you now, Daken?"
"Thirty-one." He glanced back at her, and Jane caught a flash of apprehension, almost nervousness. He turned back to the door. "I thought to do this with my parents beside me, but now..." His voice trailed off, and Jane suddenly realized this was a big moment for Daken.
It didn't matter that his mother's dream was probably induced by post-pregnancy hormones. Thirty-one years ago, she placed the burden of
So what did they really do on Capitol Hill?
Daken shook his head. "Your words are strange to me. The Elven Lord studies magic. He has brought others here to help him increase his powers."
The light suddenly went on in Jane's mind. "So, this is a pacifist government, meaning no weapon play, no guns and bombs and stuff." She'd already noticed few people here carried even small daggers like hers. "But they study magic. And let me guess, there's probably a few people here who concentrate on aggressive, offensive spells."
Daken raised his eyebrows, and his eyes sparkled with appreciation. "For a fool, you are remarkably intelligent."
They resumed walking toward the oldest, most dilapidated structure while Jane looked around, trying to absorb the feel of the campus. Then Daken held open a door into the crumbling building.
Jane hesitated before entering. "Are you sure it's safe? This thing looks like it's about to come down around our ears."
Daken looked up as if noticing the old mortar and weather-beaten bricks for the first time. "Don't worry. This is the most well-protected building in the Elven Lord's realm."
"This one?" She glanced into the dark, gloomy hallway beyond the door. "Why?"
"Because of what is in here. Come. I'll show you."
She suppressed a growing sense of horror, mentally girded herself, and stepped in. As the door sealed behind them, Jane fought panic. She felt entombed in these walls, wrapped in the musty smells of age and disuse. She stepped forward. Her sneakers squished on the concrete floor, and the sound echoed in the darkness.
"This is weird," she said in a hoarse whisper. It was like entering a library long since abandoned. The feeling was sad, almost sick, definitely dead.
"This is the home of one of our oldest legends."
He guided her along a well-worn path down a dark hallway, sparsely lighted by an occasional candle.
"It is said," he continued, "an old soul hidden among the people will one day come here to open the door to vast knowledge. Every one who visits Bosuny comes here to see if they are the one to fulfill the prophesy."
A cold chill skated down Jane's spine, and she pushed herself into a false levity to counteract the oppressive feel of the building. "What, they show up expecting to whammo-presto find a key hidden on their body? Like King Arthur's sword in the stone?"
Daken shrugged. "I don't know. I have never been to this building. And I don't know this King Arthur."
She waved aside his regrettable ignorance of one of her favorite legends. "You've never been here? But I thought you said everyone comes here."
"My brother and parents have been here, but..." his words faded as they rounded a corner and arrived at a heavy metal door.
"But..." she prompted, a little awed by the sudden cloak of calm expectancy that settled around Daken. It was as though he were preparing himself for a great battle.
He glanced down at her, his lips quirking in his wry smile filled with self-mockery that she found so endearing. "The day I was born, my mother had a dream. She said I would fulfill the prophesy, but I wasn't to come here until I was of the age of majority."
"Until you were twenty-one?"
'Twenty-four. Two full cycles of years."
Jane did a swift calculation. "A cycle must be twelve years."
Daken nodded absently, his attention focused on his hand as he slowly placed his palm on the door.
"How old are you now, Daken?"
"Thirty-one." He glanced back at her, and Jane caught a flash of apprehension, almost nervousness. He turned back to the door. "I thought to do this with my parents beside me, but now..." His voice trailed off, and Jane suddenly realized this was a big moment for Daken.
It didn't matter that his mother's dream was probably induced by post-pregnancy hormones. Thirty-one years ago, she placed the burden of
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