Chapter 4

Alzor's ravening fury was boundless. The lowest levels of his domain reverberated with his cursing. Amazingly he never repeated himself once and after what seemed a small slice of eternity he began to slow a bit. The tapping on his chamber portal caused silence to descend, like a shroud.

"Enter," he grated out.

The council filed in and as one fell in obeisance before him.

"Well?" The question hissed from his mouth.

Council spokes-being Izzag rose, saluting with, "My Lord, Greetings. We believe we have found a way through the Nexus."

"Continue," the hissing command came.

"My Lord, from our research we know that the humans are divided by polities into: Nations, then States, then Cities. All of these Polities are run by what are known as bureaucrats. These unelected rulers make 'Fiat' law at their whim. Such a ruler resides near the Nexus."

"Izzag, does this tale have an end?" Alzor asked, in a voice dripping honey sweet.

"Yes, my Lord," he replied.

"You'd best find it soon, or I redecorate my chamber!" Alzor hissed in response. Then he added, "Perhaps a bit of carmine in the corner, I think?"

"At once, my Lord," Izzag quavered, then spat out in one stream, "As you know, thought is the easiest of energy forms to pass across the barrier. What we propose is to bringing this 'Ruler' under your control. By doing so we can have certain properties condemned or have structures built where Elven groves now stand."

Izzag began gloating internally at having delivered all this in one breath. Then noticing the silence, he thought, 'Oh, Shit!'

The silence stretched on until the sub-harmonic chuckle began. "Izzag, accomplish this and you will rule as my Viceroy, in my new domain, The World of Men!"

At this, Izzag could not help but feel the 'Hunger' start building in the depths of what passed for his soul. 'The World of Men, ' he thought, 'Delicious!'

Alzor's chuckle went on for a very, very long time and all that heard it, prayed to whatever they held sacred, that it was not directed at them.

Tuesday 7:15 A. M. Grant Park Grove

As Mike entered the Grove, he saw that all the tribal chiefs had gathered. 'Greetings friends, ' he sent ahead, extending his shield to cover them all, 'Let us away then, to Elfrealm Lake's Edge, ' Mike beamed, as he keyed the portal.

He never tired of the transformation. Where Lake Michigan, like a sheet of gold from the reflected rising Sunlight, had lain a second before; now spread rolling hills of emerald green grass with groves of beech trees in seemingly random groupings. Of course, the groves weren't random any more than any other aspect of an Elfrealm was.

The one thing that the Clans of Faery completely lacked, and therefore prized above all else, was creativity. Oh, they could rearrange things any way they wanted and do it quite well too. Their copying skills made the Japanese and Chinese knock-off artists look like pikers. They called their copying 'Knowing' and Mike understood from personal experience that the copied items were identical to the original, right down to the atomic and sub-atomic levels.

He'd always secretly thought of Lake's Edge as 'Elfrealm Lite'. He had been to some others that made him expect to see Stegosauri stomping through the six to eight foot tall fern like under brush. He'd always imagined that paleontologists would give a major limb gladly for a chance to study the living plants they normally could view only as fossils.

One of the things that never ceased to amaze him was the 'sky' in an Elfrealm. It was invariably twilight, some brighter than others and some even with a crescent moon or profusion of starts, but twilight none the less. He'd always thought, this was because of the light sensitivity inherent in the 'Cat's Eye structure' of Elven eyes, but had never had the balls to ask anyone.

Dissipating his shield; now no longer needed, Mike turned to the group of Elven steeds provided to speed the group's passage to Elnor. "Greetings Alliona," Mike murmured to the gorgeous white Arabian now nuzzling his chest. She had always been his steed, since he'd first being introduced to her as a child. "It's so good to see you again, Dear One," he whispered in her ear while materializing an apple for her to nibble.

The passage to Elnore's hold flashed by like a dream, and the group found themselves at the foot of the Hold drawbridge hailed by the Captain of Elnore's household guard. "Greetings, my Lords. Prince Elnore awaits you in the Solarium."

Giving Alliona a final hug, Mike dismounted and led the group in.

'Solarium?' Mike silently grinned while thinking, 'I always figured you'd need a Sun for that.'

As they entered the 'Solarium', Mike noticed a huge round table. Groaning inside, he knew Elnore had been reading the Arthurian legends again. 'Oh well.' Mike thought, 'Whatever keeps him happy and Awake.' The knowledge that one of the deadliest perils that Clan Elven faced was ennui made him willing to grant them whatever it took to keep them alive and out of the coma-like 'Dreaming' state.

"Welcome my Lords, please be seated. May I offer refreshment, some water at the very least," Elnore said, glancing at the Mer Folk Lord.

"It would be appreciated," replied Lonar, the Mer Warlord.

As all the others were served their choices Elnore looked at Mike, and sighed, "All right Michael, bring it in."