Lapsit Exilis

Complete
Action/Adventure, Romance (other pairing)
Season 3

Disclaimers:

    Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, The SciFi Channel, the Sci-Fi Channel, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is written purely for my own entertainment, and that of anyone else who may happen to read it. No infringement of copyright is intended. It is not intended and should never be used for commercial purposes.
    The original characters, situations and ideas contained within this work are the property of the author.

Acknowledgements:

    Ave Sho, Beta Quondam, Betaque Futurus

Lapsit Exilis

P2C-441

SG-1 walked slowly along the dusty road from the Stargate, passing between empty fields of green wheat. The scattered farmhouses – small, thatched, wooden dwellings for the most part – stood empty, doors gaping, and by the looks of things, even the animals were gone.

Daniel Jackson shook his head in astonishment. "I wonder if we should be worried," he mused.

"What's to worry about?" Jack asked, although his tone said he agreed with Daniel.

"There were people here yesterday," Sam insisted. "The UAV saw them."

"And cows, sheep, pigs and chickens," Jack agreed. "They're not here now though."

"The people might have been spooked by the UAV and gone into hiding," Daniel suggested, half-heartedly. "But I've never known sheep to be that organised."

"You've been involved with a lot of popular sheep movements?" Jack asked.

"Such sudden abandonment rarely bodes well," Teal'c said. "We should not remain here for long, especially not in such an exposed position."

Jack looked around, assessing the situation tactically. The road which the team were travelling lay in a long, wide, glacial valley. A river wound its way through the valley, intersecting the straight line of the road at irregular intervals. Hills rose into mountains on either side, with the highest peaks ahead of them, while the Stargate lay at the centre of an imposing trilithon temple on the broad, open plain at the mouth of the valley.

"We should stick to the road," he said at last. "We're out of easy shot of the hills and any real cover. If the locals are hiding in the fields then they're way too good at guerrilla warfare for us to get around them on their own ground."

Daniel stopped to examine an inscribed stone which stood at the side of the road.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"That looks familiar," Jack said.

"It does?" Daniel asked, then a look of realisation came over his features. "Of course; you're from Cornish country."

Sam still looked baffled. "Cornish?"

Jack's expression turned dreamy. "Mmm," he murmured. "Pasties."

"Are we going to have to quarantine you when we get back?" Sam asked.

"The language is a derivation of ancient Cornish," Daniel explained. "It's a Brythonic language, similar to Welsh. A large section of the population of the northern United States are descended from Cornish miners, which is why Jack recognises the language; probably from the signs on pasty shops."

"I understood that your family were descended from the great Fenian warriors of Eire, O'Neill?" Teal'c said.

"They are," Jack assured him. "My stepmother was Cornish. We had our differences," he added. "But she made great pasties."

"I didn't know you had a stepmother," Sam said.

Jack shrugged. He never talked about his parents much; none of them did. Aside from meeting Jacob Carter, all he had really learned in three years was that Sam had lost her mother, Daniel was orphaned at an early age and Teal'c's father had been murdered by Cronus.

"This is a road marker," Daniel said. "There's writing on both sides: In the direction of the Gate it has the distance to places called Porthbucca, Treduros and Porthnewth; on the other side to Marasnan Woles and Marasnan Wartha, Bodwra and Carndeinol."

"Sounds like quite the freeway," Jack commented.

"So where's the traffic?" Sam asked, rhetorically.

"Alright, Daniel. Where do you think we should go?"

Daniel shrugged. "Well, Porth means port or cove. At a guess I'd say that Porthbucca, the Port of the Faeries, is the Stargate; the people here probably believed whoever came through the Gate to be a kind of spirit. Treduros and Porthnewth are both a long way off, according to this, so I'd suggest we head into the mountains in the direction of Carndeinol. It shouldn't be much further than walking back to the Stargate, and there are two market towns on the way. If the people are fleeing something, then markets will be where they gather, and if they're just partying then the same applies. Also, Carndeinol is written in bigger letters, so I'd guess it's the capital."

"What about Bodwra?" Jack asked.

"I'm a little iffy about it," Daniel admitted. "It means 'witch's dwelling', and that's rarely a good sign."

"What does Carndeinol mean?" Sam asked.

Daniel smiled. "It means 'Daniel's hill'," he said.

*

Marasnan Woles

As it turned out, Daniel's assumption that people would gather in the markets was correct, but this did not make Marasnan Woles a good place for them to be. The little town was full of people, who looked at the strangers with the hostile glare of those with good reason to mistrust those they did not know. They were mostly just milling around, but some moved with a purpose, in organised groups, carrying spears and axes and looking serious. Some of these fighters wore metal helmets and carried wooden shields, some had longbows, and their leaders wore coats of chainmail and carried long, wide-bladed swords.

The women were mostly wearing long gowns, with wide sleeves, but a few dressed in the same costume as the men, that consisting of loose breeches, a long under-tunic and a shorter, heavier over-kirtle and a handful of both sexes wore long grey robes like monastic habits. Everyone wore leather belts and boots, and woollen cloaks fastened at the shoulder with disc- or ring-shaped brooches. There was a great deal of jewellery in evidence, mostly necklaces and bracelets of copper and bronze, or strings of jet and amber beads.

The style of dress varied little between rich and poor – save for the dress sleeves, which were longer and more deeply flared on the richer women – but colour and quality seemed to be indicators of value. Poorer folk wore dull browns, creams and greys, the wealthy middle classes favoured greens, purples and reds, and the richest wore black and white. Likewise, the richer the person the closer the weave of the woollen fabric of their clothes and the greater the level of ornamentation on the hems. The people themselves were for the most part fair-haired, with blue or grey eyes, but a small number were markedly darker. There appeared to be no correlation between social standing and colouration however.

"Is it me?" Jack asked. "Or is Teal'c getting the worst of these glowers?"

"It appears to be so," Teal'c agreed. "It would seem that this planet has suffered under the Goa'uld at some point."

Jack spoke to Daniel without taking his eyes from the crowd. "So what do you make of this pack of Ren Fair rejects?"

"Well, they're hardly Renaissance," Daniel replied. "Their costume and weapons are early mediaeval at the latest; probably late European migration period to Anglo-Saxon times. There appear to be technological advances," he added. "I've seen some stirrups and a few of the agricultural tools that wouldn't fit, and the style of the clothing isn't quite like anything I've ever come across, but the bulk of the material culture looks as though it belongs in insular Britain, circa the turn of the first millennium."

Jack nodded, sagely. "So what do you make of this pack of Ren Fair rejects?"

"They look to have reached a similar level of development to the Cimmerians," Sam noted. "And it looks like they have a similar warrior culture."

"O'Neill," Teal'c cautioned, drawing to a halt.

Ahead of them the crowd had cleared, leaving only a group of seven men, mail-clad and armed to the teeth, blocking the way. They wore matching tunics of black, white and blue beneath their armour, and their large, round shields and the snapping banner that one of them held aloft on a pole were decorated in the same colours. The banner bore the device of a black boar, which was mirrored on the shield of one of the warriors; an older man, with eye guards on his helm. He wore a sword, a seax, a knife and a hand axe in his belt, carried a second knife in his boot and held a long spear in his free hand.

Daniel looked about, and saw the banner of the boar flying over the largest house in the village. "I think this is the local chieftain," he told Jack.

"He looks pissed," Jack said.

"I know," Daniel replied. "But you're going to have to deal with him."

"Me?"

"You're the leader; you'll have to deal with him man-to-man. Don't worry," Daniel added. "I'm sure he's your kind of guy."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

Daniel sighed. "Honest, straightforward; no bull. Why do you always think I'm insulting you when I say things like that?"

"Never mind," Jack said. He turned to face the warrior. "Honest and straightforward?"

"Yeah."

Jack stepped forward, and the leader did likewise.

"Hi," Jack said. "I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill."

"I am Conoc Hir, Chief of Marasnan Woles and servant of the Ki...of the Queen of Logres," he corrected himself. "You are not welcome here, nor are any who travel in the company of a Changeling." He looked at Teal'c and spat at his feet.

Teal'c took a step forward, but Daniel interceded before things could turn ugly. "No, Teal'c," he said. "It's just a gesture against evil."

"I have been insulted," Teal'c insisted, in a dark tone.

Daniel shook his head. "These people don't spit at people they don't respect," he said. "They ignore them."

"Look," Jack said, aware of the volatility of the situation. "You guys clearly have a problem with my friend here, so we're going to leave now. I hope that's okay with you."

The man at Conoc's right – a younger man who bore the banner, the foot of the pole resting in a leather cup on his belt – leaned across and whispered in the Chief's ear. Conoc shook his head however, his eyes fixed – so it seemed to Jack – on Teal'c.

"Step forward," Conoc said. "Let me see your face in the light."

Teal'c began to move, and the warriors tensed.

"Not you, Changeling," Conoc said. "You, with the eyes of glass."

"Me?" Daniel asked.

"Yes, you. You know something of our ways, I deem."

"A little," Daniel demurred.

"Would you remove the glass, please?" Conoc asked, a respectfulness in his voice that had not been there before.

"My glasses?" Daniel was confused.

"I think we should just go," Jack said, a sinking feeling beginning in the pit of his stomach.

"I don't see any harm," Daniel replied. He lifted his hands to his face and removed his glasses.

"Daniel..." Jack began.

The crowd gasped in amazement, and none looked more astonished than Conoc.

"God's be praised," he said, reverently. "You have come back to us." The old chief fell to one knee before SG-1, and his warriors followed suit, the banner bearer moving more slowly to ensure that the black boar did not fall. After the warriors, the crowd also knelt.

"Daniel!" Jack said, a warning in his voice.

"All hail!" Conoc shouted. "Ave Deinol; Rex Quondam, Rexque Futurus."

"That sounds familiar," Sam noted. "And it didn't sound Cornish."

"It's not," Daniel replied. "It's Latin. Hail Daniel," he translated. "The Once and Future King."

*

Conoc's house was the largest in Marasnan Woles, a long stone hall with a straw roof. One end was given over as a dwelling place, the other as a gathering hall, and now that hall was filling up. It could probably have comfortably seated half the adult population of the town, but all of the grown-ups, the children, and the folk who had fled from the outlying farms to take shelter within the market town's double palisade fence had come to see Daniel. The rest of SG-1 made their way easily enough to the back of the hall, and Conoc's banner bearer led them through into the private quarters, but the chief himself and his guest of honour were mobbed, and it took them almost ten minutes to push through.

"Daniel?" Jack asked. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," Daniel replied, checking himself for damage and missing property, then straightening his glasses. A small group of young women, dressed in the blue, white and black livery of Conoc's household and all clearly related, watched this procedure with amusement, then broke into fits of giggles when Daniel smiled at them. An older woman with very long, very dark hair shushed them, and herded them away.

"Give the man some space," Conoc ordered, as he pulled the helmet from his head to reveal a mane of snow-white hair. With some reluctance most of the warriors filed away. The banner bearer planted his charge in a socket behind a high chair, but stayed in the room. "My son," Conoc introduced the young warrior. "Gurcan. You must have travelled far, Lord Deinol."

"Daniel," Daniel corrected.

Conoc inclined his head in apology. "As you say, My Lord. Take your rest now. My wife shall arrange refreshment for you and your followers."

Jack glowered. "Followers?"

Conoc turned to Teal'c. "Please forgive our suspicions," he said. "The old tales say that Lord Dei...Daniel taught us that the Changelings were not forever bound to the Buccan, but we have only recently seen any Changeling with our own eyes, and those who came before were pitiless and evil."

"If they were Jaffa, such as myself, then perhaps they were merely misguided," Teal'c replied.

"Perhaps so," Conoc replied, coolly. "But they slew my king, and his wife, and took four fair daughters of this village away with them to serve the Buccan."

Teal'c inclined his head. "I am sorry for your loss," he said.

Conoc nodded, wearily. "I shall leave you to rest," he said. "Later, we must talk, and I will take you to see the Queen. Gurcan," he called, softly.

"Daniel?" Jack asked, when they were alone.

"I have no idea," Daniel assured him. "It sounds as though they have some kind of prophesied champion and I happen to fit the description."

"It would also appear that the people of this planet are being assaulted by Jaffa."

"There aren't any here now," Jack noted. "What do you make of that?"

"Most likely an ultimatum has been given," Teal'c replied. "In time the Jaffa will return to lay claim to the entire planet. The first assault will simply have been intended to strike fear into the hearts of the population."

"Well, some of them seemed frightened," Sam admitted. "But more of them looked angry."

"This is a warrior race," Daniel agreed. "I don't think they'll stand down any more than the Jaffa will."

"They'll get killed," Jack said.

"Maybe," Daniel replied.

"Swords and spears against Jaffa?" Sam asked. "I don't see that battle lasting very long."

"Even if they fight a guerrilla campaign, they won't last long," Jack agreed. "We should figure out if there's any helping these poor saps quick, and if not get out." He pointed at Daniel. "And whatever they say to you, do not start thinking you have a duty to these people because they think you're the Messiah."

The curtain moved aside, and the dark-haired woman led her giggling charges in with trays of food and drink.

"Ah, hell," Jack grumbled, catching a familiar scent. "Mead."

"It is not much," the woman said. "We have little left. The town is overfull, as you see."

Daniel smiled, reassuringly. "We thank you for your hospitality, Mistress...?"

"Kerensa Duh," the woman replied. "Wife of Conoc. These are our daughters, or the four eldest anyway. We are honoured to have you in our house, Lord Daniel."

"Yeah," Daniel said. "That's great, but I really wish you weren't."

"My Lord?"

"Just Daniel," he insisted. "And I think you may have me confused with someone else."

"But you are Daniel?" She asked.

"Well, yes..."

"And you have come to help us?"

"I'd like to, but..."

"Then we do not have you mistaken."

"Lord Daniel," one of the girls blurted out.

"Just Daniel," he repeated.

"Hush, girl," Kerensa chided. "This is not the time to trouble the man with trivialities."

"Oh, no," Daniel said. "This seems the perfect time."

The girl beamed. "It is Taliesin ap Rhys," she explained. "He wishes to speak with you."

"Everyone wishes to speak with him," Kerensa said. "If we brought every message we had been asked to, your ears would fall off," she assured Daniel.

"What's the message?" Jack asked the girl.

"July 8^th, 1965," she replied.

"What?" Daniel demanded, astonished. He shared a bewildered look with Sam.

The girl shrugged, helplessly. "He said you would know what it meant," she said.

"The boy is...touched," Kerensa explained, not unkindly. "However, he is well-favoured in form and voice, and as a result the girls are too kind to him. I shall send him away."

"I am sorry, L...Just Daniel" the girl said, her face flaming.

"No, no," Daniel assured her, quickly. "Please. Send him in. I know what he means," he added.

"July 8^th, 1965?" Sam asked after Kerensa had ushered her daughters back out. "Isn't that..."

"My date of birth," Daniel confirmed.

Jack shook his head in amazement. "How does anyone on this planet know when your birthday is?" He asked. "I'm your friend and I forget half the time."

"I really don't know," Daniel replied. "I mean, obviously I've never been here before only everyone seems to insist they know me. It's like a particularly disconcerting practical joke."

"You think maybe Ferretti slipped a few details out with the MALP?" Jack suggested.

"I don't think it's particularly likely, no. Come in." The last was directed towards the doorway, where a good-looking youth with dark red hair had stuck his head through the curtain. "You're Taliesin?"

"I am," the boy replied, in a soft, musical voice. He stared at Daniel as though he had seen a ghost. "Taliesin ap Rhys of Bodwra. It's really you," he added.

"Well, yes," Daniel agreed. "It's definitely 'me', but who do you think me is? I am," he corrected himself.

Taliesin looked baffled. "Why, Daniel Jackson, Sir," he replied. "The Once and Future King. The man who led us to victory against the Hosts of Faerie once, and shall do so again."

"How do you know...?" Daniel stopped and beckoned to the boy. "Come in," he said.

"Thank you, Sir," Taliesin replied, entering the room and approaching with a slow, respectful pace. His clothes were made of close-woven, grey cloth, and his kirtle was edged with black and white tablet weaving, suggesting a degree of wealth. He carried a leather shoulder bag with some flat, triangular object inside it; a harp, Daniel guessed.

"How do you know my name?" Daniel demanded, picking up where he had left off. "How do you know when I was born?"

Taliesin looked awkward. "I just...know," he said. "It is what my family do. We know things."

"What things?" Jack asked.

"That this is the Rexque Futurus," Taliesin offered. "That he is Daniel Jackson. That the Red Hound is the sacred beast of Queen Mab, and its sign is worn by her Changelings as a mark of her dominion. That..."

Daniel held up a hand to interrupt. "Who's Mab?" He asked.

"Queen Mab," Taliesin replied.

"The Queen of Faerie?"

"And Mistress of the Buccan Host."

"Daniel?" Jack asked.

"Ah...The Buccan are Cornish faeries. I think what we're dealing with here is a Goa'uld who takes the persona of the Faerie Queen."

"Faeries?" Jack looked unimpressed. "As in: Little girls with butterfly wings?"

"No," Daniel replied. "Faeries as in the good folk; or rather the folk you call good because you really don't want them to feel you're insulting them. Faeries as in 'lock all your doors and windows and nail horseshoes above them so the buccan don't get in and steal your children'."

"The old people," Taliesin added. "Ageless and immortal, subject only to fire and iron. They come from the Faerie Ring of Porthbucca in such force that only the power of the Grail can resist."

"The Grail?" Jack asked, sceptically.

"The Holy Grail," Taliesin explained.

"Oo-kay! Pack it up, campers. We're going home."

"Wait, Jack!" Daniel insisted.

"Daniel..."

"He's right, Sir," Sam interjected. "If the Holy Grail can resist an invading Jaffa army then it might be a weapon or a defensive device of some kind."

"To resist the onslaught of one of the faerie lords it would have to be a device of considerable power," Teal'c added.

"You know about these good ol' boys?" Jack asked.

"Good folk," Daniel corrected, under his breath.

"I have heard tell of them," Teal'c replied. "They are said to be Goa'uld of great age and power, but too reckless and capricious to control great domains. They are said to move from place to place in a great swarm, like locusts; preying on weak planets, taking what they need or desire without care for the harm they cause, sucking the life out of a world. The Faerie are parasites, even by the standards of the Goa'uld."

"And Queen Mab?" Daniel asked.

Teal'c's face became dark. "One of the worst of them," he said. "Mab is among the strongest of the Faerie; she does not compare to one of the System Lords, but she lives outside their power. She takes many children from the worlds she rapes, indoctrinating and implanting them to be her Jaffa."

"Her Changelings," Taliesin agreed.

"What happened?" Daniel asked.

"About a month ago, a group of faerie came through the Ring," Taliesin began. "A Buccan lord, five Changeling warriors...and her. Queen Mab." The youth shivered at the memory. "No-one had ever seen anything so fair as the Queen and her consort. Their raiment was all of gossamer and gold, and their escort were armoured in red and black. All were tall, but she stood higher than the others, with skin like moonlight, hair of silver and lips like blood."

Jack exchanged a look with Sam and rolled his eyes, but there was something odd about Taliesin's description. Although he dwelt at length on the finery of the faerie, and the beauty of the Queen, he did not seem either impressed or enamoured. Instead, Jack felt distinctly that the boy merely felt that such things as these should be described in a certain way.

"This group marched to the city of Carndeinol, where King Geren and his wife, Queen Maegwyn, met them at the gates as is our custom. They were offered welcome, but Mab spurned the hospitality of Logres. She demanded that the King surrender his crown and his throne to her, and order his people to build a shrine where they would worship her as a goddess. Geren refused, of course, and she struck him. The king was knocked backwards, and then Mab's consort came and held him fast. The Changelings at once cut down the guards with their spears of flame, and threatened to do the same to anyone who intervened. Maegwyn tried to draw her knife, but Mab was too swift. She caught hold of our queen, and smote her with magic."

"A beam of light out of her hand?" Jack guessed.

"With a ribbon device, yes," Taliesin agreed.

Sam was surprised. "You know what a ribbon device is?"

"Yes," Taliesin replied, sounding no less startled, and a little bit frightened.

"What happened after that?" Daniel asked.

"Mab had her consort run the king through with a spear and plant it upright before the gates of Carndeinol." Taliesin's voice was weak as he described this last; he sounded almost nauseous. "Then she did the same to Queen Maegwyn's body. She said that she would return in one month, at which time the people would submit to her, or one half would be killed, the other enslaved, and our land laid to waste. If the bodies of the king and queen had been taken down, she said, she would kill a hundred of our people, whether or not we surrendered.

"The faerie returned to Porthbucca. Conoc and his folk tried to stop them on the road past Marasnan Woles, for Maegwyn was born here and well-liked in the town, but the Changelings struck his warband down with zat'nik'tels..." He stopped, repeating the word to himself in confusion.

"They didn't kill them?" Daniel prompted.

Taliesin gathered his wits. "No," he said. "But she took four young girls, including Conoc's two youngest daughters, and said that they belonged to her now." The boy looked up at them, pale-faced. "She said that we all belonged to her now."

Daniel sat down, a look of pure horror on his face.

"How long do you have left?" Jack asked.

"A few days," Taliesin replied.

"And how many people?"

"Perhaps five hundred in Marasnan Woles; twice that in Marasnan Wartha further up the valley. A mere two hundred each in Bodwra and Treduros, but at least two thousand in Porthnewth and three thousand in Carndeinol. There are also at least as many again as all that combined dwelling in the towns of Hyneth and in the farms and villages across the rest of Logres."

Sam shook her head when Jack gave her an enquiring glance. "We're not talking about a couple of villages here," she said. "Fifteen-thousand people scattered across who-knows-how-much ground...It would be more complicated than trying to take five times that from a more limited area."

"Could we do it?" Jack asked.

"We've never carried out an evacuation on this scale before," Sam began, then stopped; she knew her CO did not want to see the math. "We couldn't get close to taking everyone," she told him. "Not in a few days. Probably not in a few months."

"Evacuate?" Taliesin asked. "Impossible. This is our land; it is where our people belong. It is in our blood and we are in its bones. We could not survive without this land, and it could not survive without us."

"Why is everyone always determined to die at home?" Jack demanded of no-one in particular.

"None of our people wish to die," Taliesin assured him. "And we will not. Not now that Daniel has returned."

"Hold on," Daniel cautioned.

"Of late, many have remembered the tales of the Once and Future King, and they gave us hope; although few truly believed until now. But you are here. You will guide us, the Grail shall rise and the enemies of our land shall be cast from it."

"I'm not who you think I am," Daniel told Taliesin.

"You must be," Taliesin insisted. "I...remember you. And there is the statue."

"Statue?" Jack asked. "Look; Taliesin. We'll help if we can, and maybe we can lend a hand to uncover this Grail thingy, but Daniel is not a legendary hero. He's a...geek. No offence," he added.

"None taken." Daniel assured him.

"Maybe it would be best if you went home, Daniel," Jack suggested. "We'll see what we can do, but it's probably best you aren't seen around or people will start expecting you to defeat armies for them."

Daniel frowned. "Well, I agree that I should keep out of sight, but I'm not sure I should leave. After all, if this Grail is some sort of ancient weapon you may need a translator. No offence to Sam, but I can probably translate a set of instructions faster than she can unravel the mysteries of a completely alien technology."

"Assuming it's not a completely alien language," Sam amended.

"Assuming that, yes."

Taliesin beamed. "Then come with me," he said. "I will take you to visit the Queen."

"I thought Conoc was doing that," Daniel pointed out.

"Conoc is a good man," Taliesin said. "But he will want you here to protect his people and help him avenge his loss. I do not think that is why you are here."

"I'm here because I'm an explorer," Daniel insisted.

"Nevertheless, I think it would be best for you to speak with the Queen. She is very level-headed," he assured them. "And wise beyond her years."

"And what are her years?" Jack asked, with a sinking feeling.

"She is sixteen," Taliesin replied. "Elowen is the only child of Geren and Maegwyn. After they died the people looked to her cousin, Cathbad to lead, for he is older. But it was only Elowen who dared to take a small group of guards and lift her parents down. She has worked tirelessly since that night to try and prepare us, and her words of strength and courage give hope to the people." He sighed. "Alas that her words seem less able to touch the lords."

"Let me guess," Jack said. "She's been predicting the coming of the Once and Future King to save you all?"

Taliesin shook his head. "Actually, no. She does not believe in the return that was foretold. She wants to, but does not dare to hope."

"Smart girl," Jack admitted.

"Many of the lords of Logres argued that we should not fight if you did not come," the youth told Daniel. "Elowen says that we must fight regardless. Now that you have come however, the lords must join her. Others have suggested that we are being punished for the fall of the line of the Rex Quondam; if you show favour to Elowen, they too will be silenced."

"Taliesin," Daniel said, gently. "I am not going to help anyone take your people into a fight that they can not win. If I can, I'll probably try to persuade them to leave through the Stargate; the Faerie Ring."

"We can not," Taliesin said again. "This land is ours, and we belong to it. The Grail is here, and we can not abandon it."

"Daniel," Jack called softly, motioning his team into a huddle. "I say we go with the kid and speak to this Queen. It sounds like she has her head screwed on about this whole 'prophecy' kick, so hopefully we can get some sense out of her." Jack looked over his shoulder to where Taliesin was eagerly waiting. "Daniel; you might want to do a lot of the talking," he said. "But – and I can not stress this enough – do not make any promises that you know I won't keep."

*

Carndeinol

The folk of Marasnan Woles were sufficiently eager to help that it was easy to get hold of four cloaks to cover SG-1's strange clothing and weapons. Thus concealed, they were able to slip away through the confusion of the crowd, to a small yard where Taliesin had a cart waiting. One of Conoc's daughters was minding the rear door of the house, but at a word and a smile from Taliesin she let them pass. Well, Sam thought to herself. Several words. I'd swear she kept us waiting just to hear him speak a little more. Kerensa was right, Sam realised; the young women gave Taliesin the benefit of the doubt because he was handsome and charismatic. The way that Taliesin seemed utterly oblivious to the effect he had reminded Sam of Daniel and was doubtless a part of his charm.

A few miles up the road, the team passed through Marasnan Wartha, which seemed very much like Woles, but bigger. The banner which flew over the meeting house was green and gold, and bore the emblem of a stag. Like her sister-town in the lower valley, Marasnan Wartha was teeming with refugees, but to a lesser degree. The folk here had not tried to stop Mab on her way down, Taliesin explained; as a result, fewer hereabouts feared her wrath, and fewer were inclined to rely on the protection of Wartha's chief, Heylin Hen.

"He is not a bad man," Taliesin added. "But an old and cautious one. He has no heirs, and fears war more than he fears defeat."

"And where is your town?" Daniel asked. "Bodwra?"

"In the foothills of the mountains to the East," Taliesin replied, gesturing off the track. "We are a little out of the way, and we do not get many visitors. That is why I left home five years ago."

"Five years?" Jack asked. "How old were you when you left home?"

"Twelve."

Word of the Once and Future King's arrival had spread already to Marasnan Wartha, and many refugees seemed to be preparing to move north to Woles, either because they believed that it would be even safer now, or simply as a form of pilgrimage. Jack could see that Daniel was getting uncomfortable. This kind of welcome always upset him, even more than it did Jack. Daniel did not like to have anyone relying on him, because he had so little faith in himself.

From Marasnan Wartha the small party travelled on towards Carndeinol. They saw it long before they reached it, a great palace surrounded by a sprawl of buildings and a high, stone wall. The scale of the place was impressive enough, especially compared to the two market towns, but the palace was quite literally something else.

"It was built long ago," Taliesin confirmed, when Sam asked. "No-one knows who by. The city grew up around it, and it has always stood, unchanged. Some believe it to be thousands of years old."

The palace was fashioned of stone, and although worn down by centuries of weathering by wind and rain, it was still possible to see where the mountains behind the city had been quarried to make the blocks. The palace rose up, six storeys high and at least an acre at the base, with great, indomitable walls and a magnificent domed roof. The roof was clearly not made of local stone, and was studded with spires and minarets. While the walls were pitted by age and the elements, the dome was still smooth and unblemished. The largest spire, at the centre of the dome, held a great banner, depicting a snarling wyrm in black and silver.

"It's incredible," Sam whispered.

"It's beautiful," Daniel agreed. "Or did you mean from an engineering standpoint?"

"A little of both," Sam replied.

Warriors in black and silver livery stood at the city gates and at the doors of the palace. The outer doors were wooden, but behind lay a long, stone tunnel, and at the end a great, oval archway. Like the dome, the archway and the walls of the passages beyond seemed untouched by the passage of years, their surface perfectly smooth; smoother than any stone Daniel had ever seen. Clearly they were not indestructible however, as holes had been bored to carry long rails, from which were suspended great tapestries and banners.

The sentries clearly knew Taliesin by sight, and merely waved him and his companions through. The palace castellan – a slim, efficient man whose silver hair and black eyes matched the colours of his tunic – seemed less easily impressed.

"The Queen is very busy," he said. "She has no time at present for song and tale."

"If there's ever a time when a person wouldn't be better off for a song, then...well, they will have turned into you, Manas ap Morn," Taliesin finished. "The Queen will see me, you know she will, and these are important visitors."

"I am sure they are," Manas sniffed. "And...Put that down!" He snapped, pointing a long, thin finger at Jack.

"Sorry," Jack sniffed, setting a glass vase back on its pedestal.

"If the Queen will not see us now, we will wait," Taliesin said.

Daniel smiled under his hood, but assayed a tone of disapproval as he gestured at Jack and said: "Of course, you know he'll be doing that all the time until we get in to see the Queen. He just can't stop picking things up," he added, with a weary sigh.

The castellan frowned, darkly. "I will ask Her Grace if she will see you," he said, and he left.

"Will she see us?" Sam asked, concerned.

"I doubt Sparky'll give us much of a write-up," Jack agreed.

"She will see us," Taliesin assured them. "She will, trust me."

"You're her bard?" Daniel guessed.

Taliesin smiled. "I do not have the experience," he said. "But I was her companion in childhood and she has faith in me; even if no-one else does."

Manas returned, looking cross. "The Queen will see you," the castellan announced, briskly. "But she can not spare the time for a private audience."

"I did not ask her to," Taliesin replied. Clearly there was no love lost between these two.

SG-1 were received in the great hall of the palace, a long, high room with a magnificently vaulted ceiling.

"No decoration," Daniel mused, looking around.

"Hmm?" Jack asked.

"There's no decoration," Daniel repeated. "The walls are all very plain beneath the tapestries. I'm just wondering who would create a building so grand and monumental, but without any inscriptions." He shook his head. "The only times we've seen anything like it, the supposed monuments have turned out to be functional structures."

"Like the great pyramid," Sam recalled.

"Which turned out to be a Goa'uld landing platform," Daniel agreed.

"This does not appear to be the work of any Goa'uld I have ever come across," Teal'c said. "Nor do I believe that the Faerie would be capable of constructing anything on such a scale; they prefer to steal what they need or desire."

The long dining tables stood empty. The only people in the cavernous hall were a group of six, gathered around the high dais where the great lords would sit at banquets. Taliesin led SG-1 up the length of the hall. As they approached, they saw that four of the waiting figures were men of middle or advanced years, one was a younger man, and the sixth – the focus of all attention – was a very young woman.

"Your Grace," Taliesin greeted the Queen, bowing from the waist.

"Taliesin," she replied. Queen Elowen had a slender, almost fragile figure, at odds with the air of strength that she carried. Although almost dwarfed by the burly men surrounding her, the small, dark girl was clearly in command, and wore the heavy sword at her hip as though she knew how to use it. She was dressed as a warrior, all in black except for a small pouch that she wore on a cord around her neck, which was red. At the sight of SG-1's youthful guide, her eyes sparkled with affection, but as though such emotion were a wedge that would crack open her façade of strength she banished it almost at once. "Who are your companions?" She asked.

"Visitors from afar," Taliesin replied. "From another world."

The men surrounding the Queen began to whisper to one another, but she held up a hand and they fell silent. "From the Faerie Ring?" She asked, eyeing Teal'c's staff weapon warily. "Are they Buccan?"

"One is a Changeling," Taliesin admitted, to the great consternation of the councillors. "But he does not serve the Buccan. His name is Teal'c, and he has turned against his masters. These others are Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter of the SGC." He paused, while SG-1 lowered the hoods of their cloaks, waiting for the whispers to begin before he finished: "And this is Daniel Jackson."

The group on the dais fell into a chaotic babble. Two of the older men looked as though they had seen a ghost, the other two as though they had seen the Second Coming. The younger man was glowering at Taliesin with undisguised hatred, and the Queen looked inexplicably sad. After a moment, she held up her hand once more for silence; this time it took her a little longer to receive it.

"You are all welcome in Logres," Elowen said. "But I am afraid that we have little welcome left to offer. If you are wise, then you shall leave us quickly; if you stay, I doubt that you shall be spared because you are not of our land."

"Your Grace," Taliesin stepped forward, baffled. "Can you not see? This is Daniel Jackson: The Rexque."

"I wish you'd stop calling me that," Daniel said, pained.

"Your talk is foolishness, harper," the young man in Elowen's council snapped, stepping forward. "Take your charlatans elsewhere; the Queen has serious business to attend to."

"Ossine," Elowen said, her voice soft but dangerous. "You forget yourself. It is not your place to speak for me, nor to dismiss anyone from my presence. Taliesin is always welcome in my hall, and strangers who come without violence are welcome by any fire in Logres."

"Yes, Your Grace," Ossine grumbled, glowering at Taliesin once more.

"And you, Taliesin," Elowen chided, moving forward until Ossine was behind her. "I have always held you in high regard for your wisdom and insight; why you should give credence to ancient stories is beyond me."

Taliesin flinched as though the Queen had struck him, and the triumphant glint in Ossine's eyes confirmed Jack's first suspicions about the relationships between these three young people. Jack also caught a glimpse of pain in Elowen's gaze as she spoke these words, and he suspected that Ossine did not have much of a chance.

One of the older men, middle-aged, dark haired and as tall and powerful as Jack, stepped forward. "While Ossine was presumptuous, cousin, we do have matters to attend to."

"Thank you, Cathbad," Elowen replied, patiently. "I had not forgotten." She turned to address SG-1. "Please be assured that I mean you no disrespect," she said. "But as you may have been told, my land is in peril."

"Well, we'd like to help you," Daniel said.

Elowen gave the archaeologist a patient look. "Forgive me for saying so, but you are but four, and you do not seem a leader. While I do not question your valour, I will not trust the fate of my people to superstition."

"I'm not asking you to," Daniel assured her. "I'm not your Once and Future King. I'm just a man. But we've fought the Goa'uld – the Buccan – many times, and lived to tell the tale. Colonel O'Neill is a great leader; Teal'c knows the minds and strategies of the Changelings better than anyone, and Sam is both a great warrior and a brilliant scientist."

Elowen looked a little more impressed by them. "And what of you yourself?" She asked. "Are you a bard? You certainly have the tongue for it," she added, with a small smile.

Jack was not sure if that was an insult or not, but Daniel blushed as though it were a compliment.

"He is a scholar and a runescryer," Taliesin said, giving the best word he had been able to find to explain the concept of a linguist. "Your Grace, he can find the Sangreal; I know that he can."

"Taliesin," Elowen said, firmly. "I do not wish to hear talk of mysteries and legendary treasures. This hope for some miraculous salvation is pure fantasy, and you hurt our cause by offering false hope to the people."

"It is not false," Taliesin insisted. "I know it is true. Elowen..."

"That is enough, Taliesin," the Queen said. There was a plea in her voice, begging him not to force her to chastise him more firmly. "If you can offer us aid, we shall gladly receive it," she told Daniel. "But what can you offer, and at what price?"

"May I see your sword, Your Grace?" Sam asked.

Elowen and her councillors seemed taken aback, but after a moment the Queen approached and drew the weapon from her side. The blade was almost two inches wide at the hilt and three feet long, but she handled it as though it were far lighter than it looked. The edge looked deadly sharp, and absolutely perfect apart from a tiny notch on one side, about three inches from the crossguard. Sam took a hand scanner from her pocket and ran it along the blade.

"Naquadah," she announced. "It's light, isn't it?" She asked Elowen.

"It is," she replied. "It is an ancient blade," she explained. "Passed down for a thousand years from one king to another, worn only in times of war. It is said that it was forged of the bones of this land."

"In which case there's probably naquadah on this planet," Sam told Jack. "And either trinium or something similar. Since I haven't seen any other sign of their use, we could well be looking at substantial untapped deposits for which the people of Logres have no need. If we can bring engineers to carry out survey and mining work, then we could justify a fairly substantial aid effort."

"We can't offer you an army," Jack said. "But we can supply weapons and training, and Teal'c, Carter and I all have a lot of experience fighting against Jaffa."

Elowen nodded. "This seems well to me," she said. She motioned behind her, and the oldest of the five men stepped up to her shoulder. "This is Peran, commander of my guard. He served my father for many years, and he knows the warriors of this land better than any man. You and yours shall work with him to devise a defence, if you will."

"Happy to," Jack agreed. "If I may suggest," he added. "We'll need to get a message to the folks back home. Daniel; head back to the Gate, brief Hammond on what's going on and bring back reinforcements if you can."

"Thank you, Colonel," Elowen said. "Taliesin; will you see Daniel Jackson safely to the Faerie Ring, please?"

"Yes, Your Grace," Taliesin replied, listlessly.

Elowen's expression grew cool. "Come with me," she told the young harper, then strode away to the side of the hall.

Jack raised an eyebrow, but passed no comment. Instead he turned to Daniel. "Tell the General that I recommend sending SG units 3 and 5," he said. "Along with small arms, ordnance and heavy weapons; I'll write up a list," he added. "The rest of us will stay and work on tactics."

"And you're sending me because...?"

Jack sighed. "Because you're not a soldier, and because the fewer people see you around, the less the risk of you acquiring any kind of messianic status."

Daniel nodded, reluctantly. "Okay," he agreed. "But I'm coming back with the reinforcements," he insisted.

"Sure," Jack agreed. "Whatever. You got a piece of paper?"

Shooting Ossine a glower to keep him at bay, Elowen took Taliesin out of earshot of the group.

"Tal," She began. "Please do not make this harder for me."

"I'm trying to make it easier," Taliesin protested. "Gods, Wen; why can't you see that? I thought you would be happy to see the prophecy fulfilled."

Elowen sighed. "I would be," she said. "But it has not been. That man is not a prophecy; he isn't our salvation. I'm sorry, Tal, but I can't try to live my life in fairy stories anymore. I am Queen, and I have a duty to help my country fight this battle. If we just wait for ancient prophecies to come about, then we will be slaughtered. I cannot allow that; I cannot even take the risk."

"It isn't a fairy story," Taliesin insisted. "This is my family's legacy. It is a part of who I am. I thought that you believed that."

"I did," she assured him. "But Logres does not need promises and grails; she needs leadership, and weapons, and skilled fighters. I have to deal with real problems, and find real solutions, in the real world; there are just some truths that I have to accept."

"Such as that a Queen must marry a nobleman?" Taliesin asked, bitterly.

"At least Ossine is doing something," Elowen snapped in return. "I know you abhor violence," she added, gently. "But I also know that you are a skilled swordsman. Why do you not fight with us; you know that they would respect you more if you took up arms."

Taliesin sighed. "Wen; you of all people know how little I care for the respect of men like Ossine and Cathbad. But if you wish it, I will fetch my father's sword from Bodwra as I return from the Faerie Ring," he promised. "If it comes to it, no-one shall fight harder to defend you than I; but not while there is another way."

"There is no other way," Elowen told him.

"Have a little faith," he advised.

"I have faith in only three things," she replied. "The sword at my side. The fact that someone will always be there to require me to draw it."

"And the third?"

"I have faith in you, Taliesin," she assured him. "Just not in your fantasies."

*

Taliesin was in a black mood as he led Daniel back down the valley to Porthbucca. With speed being of the essence he had left the cart in Carndeinol, and Elowen had leant them a pair of riding horses; sturdy, shaggy-haired animals, one grey and the other piebald. Following the Queen's orders, Taliesin skirted well clear of the two market towns, keeping Daniel out of sight, and the two spoke little until the Faerie Ring came into view.

"There must have been a city there once," Daniel said, looking down from a low ridge. The Stargate on Logres was surrounded by low, irregular mounds, and here and there lumps of stone jutted from the turf. From above, Daniel's archaeologist's eye could clearly see the shapes of houses and larger buildings in the disjointed pattern of half-buried ruins.

"Porthbucca," Taliesin replied. "Long, long ago. The city fell into ruins when our most distant ancestors walked this land, but the place has always been known as the Faerie Harbour, and will be so long as the bones of the city lie beneath the earth to remind it what once stood above."

"Do the Buccan come often?"

"Not in a thousand years," the boy replied. "We do not know why they come now."

They spurred forward at a brisk trot – the fastest pace Daniel could safely manage; he was no novice, but had more experience of riding camels – but halfway down the hillside Taliesin called a halt. The Gate was opening.

"Quickly," he said. "Back up the hill. It may be Mab and her warriors returning."

They turned and rode back to the ridge, where they dismounted and lay down so that they could watch unobserved. The last chevron flashed into life, and the wormhole opened in a fountain of spray. Taliesin was wide-eyed with astonishment; he had never before seen the Faerie Ring come to life. For a long moment, all was still save for the rippling of the event horizon, and Daniel dared to hope that it was General Hammond who had opened the Gate to make contact with SG-1. Just as Daniel began to breathe easier, the shimmering pool rippled, and a stream of warriors stepped forth. Daniel took out his field glasses in order to get a better view.

That the warriors were Jaffa, Daniel had no doubt. Their armour was of an unknown design, but clearly related to that worn by Jaffa of the System Lords. Instead of metal, it was composed of hardened leather, shaped into breastplates, shoulder guards, greaves and cuirass, dyed the colour of blood, and decorated with spirals and pictograms, all inlaid with silver. The plates were strapped tightly around the warriors' bodies, and their heads were covered by hideously masked helmets in the shape of snarling, canine faces. Beneath the armour they wore black tunics and breeches – the latter tucked into the top of high-cuffed, heavy leather boots – and long, crimson cloaks, trimmed with black fur. Each warrior carried an oval, wooden shield with a notch in the top, a huge, heavy knife and a staff weapon. The shields bore the emblem of a baying hound, red on black.

Twenty-four of these Jaffa stepped from the Stargate in two files, followed by four more figures, all lighter in build. These were dressed the same way as the others, but wore no helmet, and no armoured plates, and carried no obvious weapons save for a heavy gauntlet on the right hand. They moved with a cold and deadly grace, and Daniel had no doubt that they were Goa'uld. All of the hound-masked Jaffa were men, but one of the Goa'uld was a woman.

"Mab?" Daniel asked.

Taliesin shook his head. "Be quiet," he said. "They'll hear you."

Daniel thought that the boy was overestimating the Buccan, but he did not speak again all the same.

Another Goa'uld now emerged from the event horizon. This one was a man, and he wore armour like the Jaffa, but even more elaborately decorated and without a helmet. He wore one of the gauntlets on his right hand, and a ribbon device on his left; he bore a sword at his hip and a seax across his stomach. A slave dressed all in grey walked behind him carrying a staff weapon. The Goa'uld's right hand gripped two leather leashes, at the ends of which strained a pair of slavering hounds. At a word from this powerful figure, the Jaffa formed into two lines, facing inwards, while the Goa'uld formed up at his flanks.

The Gate closed.

The lead Goa'uld passed the leashes of his hounds to one of the lesser Goa'uld, freeing his hands so that he could raise two clenched fists into the air.

"Kree Jaffa!" He commanded, his voice carrying all the way to Daniel and Taliesin. "Kegh shol tak Lah; Mab!"

The earth in front of the Goa'uld erupted, dirt flying this way and that as a set of transport rings leaped from the ground. There was a flash of light, and the rings dropped away. As one, the Jaffa sank to their knees in reverence.

There were five figures standing where none had been before. Four were clad in simple dresses and cloaks, but in Logres the garments would be remarkable for the flawless white of their fabric. These four were young girls, the eldest no more than twelve, each carrying a burden before them. One carried a golden vessel, filled with flower petals; one carried a large, silver pitcher; one carried a slender spear, on which hung a banner showing the same baying hound that adorned the shields of the Jaffa; the last carried a great, wide-bladed sword in a jewelled scabbard.

Standing in the midst of these children was a Goa'uld. She wore a full length, black robe, gathered at the waist with a long, bejewelled leather belt, the free end of which hung down in front of her. A particularly fine and delicate ribbon device adorned her left hand, a graceful silver gauntlet her right, and long ropes of beads and pearls were looped around her neck. Her cloak was as black as the night, and trimmed with white fur. Her hood was lowered, and she wore on her head a silver crown, studded with rubies. A veil hung from the crown, hiding the upper part of her face so that only her cruel, blood-red mouth was visible. Her skin was very fair, and her hair, which hung loose to the small of her back, so pale that the silver of her crown was all but invisible against it.

"Mab?" Daniel asked.

"Mab," Taliesin replied.

Daniel caught sight of a movement, and moved his glasses to centre on the other female Goa'uld, only to realise that she was looking right at him. She raised her armoured hand to point at him, her mouth moving as she called out a warning. Daniel ducked back just in time, and the field glasses exploded in his hands.

"They heard us!" Taliesin cried.

"At that distance?"

"They are the Hunters," the boy wailed as they ran to the horses. "They have senses sharper than a hound's."

Daniel shook his head in amazement. "Now you tell me?"

*

"What sort of range do you get on those bows?" Jack asked Peran. They were walking along the battlements of the palace, while Teal'c inspected the ground before Carndeinol. Having followed Peran out from the audience chamber to here, Jack was certain that the stone walls had been built around the original frame of the structure, which had curved smoothly up to the great dome.

"Most of our skilled archers can hit a target each time at four hundred yards or more," Peran replied. "Against a man in armour, they are effective up to about half that distance, although a lot depends on the bow and on the archer."

"How so?"

"Well, take Cathbad and myself," Peran said, gesturing down into the courtyard before the palace gate, where Sam was talking to Elowen and Cathbad. "The prince is taller than I am, and has a deeper chest. He can draw a heavier bow further, and so can shoot almost fifty yards further than I can."

Jack nodded, impressed. If those ranges were accurate, then his team's MP5 were significantly outranged. The bow lacked a little in weight of fire of course, and he had no idea how effective it might prove against Jaffa plate, but it was a good starting point.

The three soldiers of SG-1 met up in front of the gates of the palace.

"Her Grace was just saying that she doesn't think the valley can be defended," Sam told the others.

"Not the whole valley," Elowen explained. "It is too wide."

"I agree," Teal'c said. "The Jaffa of Mab will not come in large numbers, and they will be very mobile. If you attempt to blockade the width of this vale they shall strike hard at one or two points, break through and then attack from behind."

Elowen nodded. "I have sent messages for the people to withdraw to Carndeinol, but many of the chiefs will seek to shelter behind their own walls. I fear that they may be picked off, one at a time, leaving us undermanned and isolated. There are passes through the mountains behind the city that lead to the great plain of Hyneth, and I have summoned the levies from the lords there who owe me fealty. I only hope that it will be enough."

"Well, we have some time to prepare the field, and hopefully reinforcements on the way..."

Jack's radio crackled. "Come in, Jack," Daniel's voice hissed.

"Daniel?" Jack asked. "You're breaking up."

"Sorry," Daniel replied. "...re heading into the mountains; try...ork our way back. Mab arrived a few moments ago with twenty-four Jaffa and five Goa'uld. One, maybe t...uld are pursuing us, but they're on foot. We...and make it back to Carndeinol via Bodwra."

Jack swore, softly. "Okay, Daniel," he agreed. "Did you get in touch with Hammond at all?"

"Sorry, Jack," Daniel said. "They beat us to it. And Jack..."

"Yes?"

"Mab arrived by tra..." The transmission broke off into static.

"What?" Jack asked. "Say again, Daniel."

"...rry. I think I just got...ind a rock. I said that Mab arrived by transport rings."

Jack sagged. "Roger that," he said. "Watch your six out there, Daniel."

"...ill do."

Jack looked up at his companions. "Transport rings."

"Queen Mab must already have a ship in orbit above this planet," Teal'c said.

"What kind?" Sam mused.

"We have to assume a mothership," Jack replied. "Which means we're in big trouble. If she has a mothership then she can send down gliders, and we've got nothing to fight them off with."

"We are unprepared," Cathbad agreed, appealing to the Queen. "We have only the guard, and they are stronger than we are." He hung his head. "We must surrender, cousin."

"No," Elowen replied, holding her head up high. "I will not let such a capricious monster control this land."

"If we fight, our people will be wiped out," Cathbad said.

"Even if we do not, by taking down my parents and burying them in the royal grove" – she closed her hand on the bag around her neck – "we have doomed one hundred of our folk. I'll not stand by while a hundred die and the rest go into slavery, Cathbad."

"You heard the Colonel," Cathbad insisted. "We have nothing with which to fight their 'gliders'."

"What about the faerie weapons?" Peran suggested. "If the Change...If Teal'c can show us how they function, we might not be so defenceless."

"Fools!" Cathbad declared.

"She will kill you," Ossine argued, seizing Elowen's hands. "If you surrender now, you may be spared."

"My life is no more important than any other," Elowen told the young man, coldly, pulling her hands from his grasp.

"Listen to Ossine," Cathbad said. "He is your betrothed..."

"He is not!" Elowen snapped. "I know that was your design, Cathbad, but I agreed to nothing. Your cowardice shames our family, cousin. Take your protégé and leave my presence; if you wish to restore yourself in my eyes, then I hope to see you fighting on the wall when the time comes." She turned her back on his protests, and faced Jack. "Colonel. I will understand if you wish to leave. I can easily spare one of the servants who can take you to Bodwra to meet up with your friend, and from there you can reach the Faerie Ring. This is not your fight, nor is it the battle you agreed to aid us with."

Jack looked from the young monarch, a small figure holding herself as tall as possible, to his two companions. He was the CO, but in a case such as this he did not feel right making the call on his own. Sam nodded, slowly, and Teal'c inclined his head in agreement.

"I think we'll stay," he said at last. "Teal'c; what's the first move?"

"Mab will bring her warriors to hear the answer to her demands," the Jaffa replied. "She will not hurry to reach us here, and will launch only a token attack when the Queen refuses to capitulate. She will return later in greater force. As she wishes to plunder this land, she will risk an aerial assault only if this second ground assault is repulsed."

Jack nodded. "Then we'll start by preparing the ground," he said. "Sam, that's us. Teal'c, check out these 'faerie weapons' and see what they've got."

"Thank you, Colonel," Elowen said.

"It will be an honour to fight and die at your side," Peran assured him.

"It'll be a greater honour to fight with you and live," Jack replied.

*

After about a mile the horses settled into a slow canter, and Daniel was able to relax his death grip on the reins.

"Remind me never to do anything like that again," he told Taliesin.

"Well, at least you are still on your horse," Taliesin reminded him.

"Yes," Daniel agreed. "At least I have that. That and the mass of bruises to remind me I am alive."

Suddenly, Daniel's horse reared up in alarm and threw him to the ground; Taliesin's bucked skittishly, but being a better horseman, the youth kept his seat.

"Alive?" The voice was odd, resonant, but not like a Goa'uld's. This was more of an Eartha Kitt purr than the usual rumble. "Not for much longer."

With balletic grace, the female Hunter sprang from a rocky outcrop to land in front of them. Daniel's horse bolted, and Taliesin struggled to control his mount. Up close, Daniel could see that the red-haired woman's delicate features were more vulpine than elfin; her expression primitive and feral. Winded and struggling for breath, Daniel drew his sidearm, knowing that it was probably useless, but the woman was focused on Taliesin as he pulled the knife from his belt.

The Hunter flicked her gauntleted hand in Taliesin's direction, and there was a sharp report. Daniel thought that he saw something flash from her hand to strike the boy, and then Taliesin slumped forward in his saddle, the knife falling from his hand.

"Poor fool," the Hunter purred, still paying little attention to Daniel, or his Beretta. If her voice had caused Daniel to doubt that she was Goa'uld, the cruel and playful smile on her lips removed all uncertainty. "Now he will burn," she pronounced, running the bare fingers of her left hand along Taliesin's thigh.

"Get away from him," Daniel gasped.

The Hunter turned to face Daniel. "You are not of this world," she observed. "I shall take you back to my mistress. She will be most pleased with me for bringing her such a spirited plaything; and perhaps an interesting one as..."

Daniel fired five times, knowing that a single pistol round would not be enough to stop a Goa'uld. It was a testament to Jack's bloody mindedness in forcing his team's civilian consultant to train that all five bullets struck the Hunter in the chest. The Goa'uld looked almost astonished when the first shot hit home, and as she collapsed, eyes flashing their last and an expression of puzzlement still etched on her features, Daniel realised that she must not have recognised his pistol as a weapon.

Cautiously, Daniel felt for the Hunter's pulse. When he was satisfied that there was none at her throat, he slipped his fingers around to the back of her neck, to make sure that the heart of the Goa'uld within her had also ceased to beat. Only then did he feel it was safe to check on Taliesin. To his surprise, the boy was not only alive but conscious.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

Taliesin shook his head. "Elf-shot," he muttered. "Fever. Burning up." He swallowed hard.

Daniel reached towards Taliesin, then started when something touched his shoulder. He spun around, but it was only his horse. "There you are," he said, rhetorically. He turned back to Taliesin. "Let's get you back to the city," he suggested.

"No," Taliesin replied. "Bodwra. Father. No one in the city can help." He leaned out along his horse's neck and whispered in its ear. "Follow," he told Daniel. "Follow...horse."

The youth slumped over, seemingly too weakened even to speak, and his steed began forward at a gentle trot. Whether it had walked this path before or whether Taliesin had somehow communicated his need to the horse, the animal did seem to know where it was going. Trusting that the boy knew what he was doing, Daniel mounted up, and spurred his own steed after Taliesin's.

*

As Jack carefully set their few charges and Claymores in front of the city, Sam ran a select handful of guards through the remote operation of the deadly devices. Once she was done, she found herself more-or-less alone with the Queen, who was walking the battlements both to be seen by her soldiers and to avoid Cathbad and Ossine, neither of whom had yet made an appearance.

"Can I ask you something?" Sam asked.

"You just did," Elowen replied.

Sam smiled. "What was all that about with Ossine?"

Elowen sighed. "Cathbad has been very supportive since my parents died. I was grateful at first, but then I realised that what he really wanted to do was control me. He tried to arrange my engagement to Ossine to cement our ties with his father, Osian, Prince of Kerath, the leading city of Hyneth. However, Ossine has been Cathbad's protégé since his arrival at court seven years ago, and I believe that my cousin sought to control me through him."

"And Ossine?"

"I thought he was at least a good man," Elowen replied. "But I see now that Cathbad has corrupted him with his greed and cowardice. My father warned me of Cathbad; I wish I had paid heed before I allowed him to gain so much authority within my court. I am so young," she admitted. "I think that many people find it easy to forget that I am their Queen." She closed her hand on the red pouch.

"What is that?" Sam asked.

"The symbol of my sovereignty," Elowen said. "The King of Logres rules by right, and the symbol of that right is his tie to the land. This bag contains soil from the Royal Grove, where...Come," she said, suddenly. "I shall show you."

The Royal Grove was located behind the palace, enclosed by a high fence and a ring of trees. The bulk of the space was taken up by a large clearing, at the centre of which was a single, mighty elm tree. Around the tree were arrayed a multitude of gravestones, and straight in front of it stood a statue of a king, seated on a throne, looking up and to his right.

"Good God," Sam whispered.

"It is uncanny," Elowen admitted.

"Daniel?" The resemblance between the statue and her team-mate was indeed more than merely striking. It was easy to see why people like Conoc and Taliesin were prepared to believe. "It looks as though someone didn't like him much," Sam added, noting that the right-hand side of the statue had a rough surface, as though it had been hacked at with a pick.

Elowen nodded. "Once the statue also bore the likeness of Deinol's Queen, Morwen. However, three hundred years ago, there was a successional dispute. The royal line failed, and there was a great conflict between the great families of Logres. It was a time of much strife, and many grim deeds were done before at last my many-times-great-grandfather took power and brought order to the land. Several of the graves that lie here were desecrated, and some of the stones are still broken. The statue was so horribly defaced that the Queen's image could not be restored, and it was broken away and buried with her bones." She gestured towards one of the graves; its marker was the largest stone, but at some time in the past it had been broken in two and never repaired.

"For a long time it was believed that the prophecy of the Rexque Futurus referred to a descendent of Deinol and Morwen," Elowen added. "But that hope is as dead as all others," she spat, bitterly. Then her expression became sad, and she moved to a pair of graves on which the grass had only grown sparsely. "As dead as my parents."

*

Bodwra

The village of Bodwra matched Daniel's expectations in all ways save one. Set in a deep dell in the mountains, beside an icy stream, it was shrouded in a cold mist that felt as though it had been there for ever. The houses felt old and heavy with ghosts, the people looked on Daniel with undisguised suspicion, and there were even flights of ravens crying raucously in the cliffs behind.

Only one thing challenged the prevailing image of a decaying, cursed village, and that was the massive stone edifice which dominated the dell. The great building was a huge, ashlar-walled hall, unlike anything else Daniel had seen on Logres. It stood five storeys high and covered almost half an acre of ground. The two horses plodded slowly forward until they stood at the doorstep of this architectural anomaly, and Taliesin's horse whinnied loudly.

Slowly, Taliesin toppled from the saddle.

Daniel slid down, ignoring the aching in his bones as he hurried to help the boy. "Taliesin," he called, softly. "Can you hear me."

"Deinol ap Jago," Taliesin whispered, his voice slurred and his eyes unfocused. "I have found him, Wen. We are saved."

Daniel looked up as a man strode out of the great building. "Can you help him?" He asked. "He's delirious."

"Delirious?" The man snorted, disdainfully. He was a big, powerful man, with greying hair and a forbidding look in his watery eyes. "Elf-shot is what he is. Bring him inside, and quickly."

"Thank you," Daniel said, lifting the youth in his arms. "He said his father could help," he added. "Do you know...?"

"I'm his father," the man replied. "I am Rhys ap Covey, and you are Deinol ap Jago. My son needs me now, but afterwards, we must talk."

Daniel followed Rhys into the building, through an empty, echoing foyer, and into an apothecary's workshop, where he laid Taliesin down on a cold, hard, stone table. He was doubtful that this was the best place for him, but Rhys insisted that the heat of the faerie magic must be drawn out of him. The big man then donned a pair of thick eyeglasses, and began gathering jars and bottles, mixing their contents in carefully measured amounts in a small crucible before setting the vessel over a flame.

"Stir this," Rhys instructed Daniel. "Slowly and steadily. When a silver film begins to form on top, take the crucible off the flame and set it aside to cool."

Although filled with misgivings regarding Rhys' methods, Daniel did as he was told, while the other man went to his son. He took a sharp knife from a wall rack and slashed open Taliesin's tunic, pulling back the cloth to expose his wounded shoulder.

Daniel almost gagged as a sickly smell threatened to overwhelm him. "What is that?" He asked.

"Elf shot," Rhys replied. "The infection is swift and deadly."

"Wen!" Taliesin cried, weakly.

"Hush, lad," Rhys said. He fetched a bowl of water, added a few drops of a pungent oil, and began to wash the youth's shoulder. He carefully cleaned around the wound and Taliesin moaned in pain.

A silvery sheen appeared on the surface of the mixture in the crucible, and Daniel lifted it from the heat.

"Excellent," Rhys said. "Now come over here. Hold the boy's arms; hold them down, tightly. This will not be easy for him."

"What are you going to do?" Daniel asked.

"This kind of elf shot does not penetrate the body of its target," Rhys replied. "It lodges there, working its foul magic on the flesh; it has to be removed."

As he took hold of Taliesin's arms, Daniel saw the wound clearly for the first time, and any protest died on his lips. The skin was puffy and swollen; a dark purple bruise was spreading outward from a tiny hole which wept a blackish discharge.

Rhys brought over a small stand, on which he set a pair of gleaming surgical instruments and the bowl of water. Then he fetched the crucible, cool enough now to touch.

"Hold him steady," Rhys instructed. Daniel took a firm grip and nodded that he was ready.

With a sure hand, Rhys took up one of his instruments, a highly polished knife with a narrow, scalpel-like blade. "Be strong, lad," he whispered, then cut deeply into the meat of Taliesin's shoulder.

Taliesin struggled, thrashing with his legs, fighting to get free of Daniel's grip. Quickly, Daniel hitched his leg over the boy's knees and pressed down with his weight, while Rhys continued to cut; red blood mixed with the black bile from the wound. Rhys dropped the knife and took up the second instrument – this one a kind of hook – and the bowl. He sluiced the long gash clean, then darted down with the hook, digging it into the boy's wound and twisting it around.

Taliesin screamed.

"You're killing him!" Daniel accused.

"Damnit!" Rhys snarled. "Almost got you. Tricksy little devil."

"Rhys!"

"Ha!" With a final wrench, Rhys pulled the hook free. Taliesin went limp. Rhys dipped the end of the hook into the crucible, then poured the rest of the water over his son's shoulder. "Fetch the bandages from the shelf behind you," he told Daniel. "It is done. The rest will be up to him."

*

The 'faerie weapons' were in the keeping of an iron-haired old woman named Tryfena, who moved like a warrior even though she did not dress as one.

"I was a shield maiden in my time," she confirmed, in response to Teal'c's polite enquiry. "There aren't many of us, but it is not forbidden, and most women at least know how to use a weapon, even if they do not make it their trade." She sighed. "But women, just like men, grow old. Now I am the oldest living member of the Royal Guard, and as such it is my honour to watch over the armoury, and especially over the weapons captured from the faeries in the last war." She shook her head in wonder. "A thousand years, and not a sign of tarnish or wear," she said. "Although I think that you might be asking a little much to expect them to be battleworthy."

"Artefacts of the Goa'uld are extremely resilient," Teal'c assured her.

Tryfena nodded her head. "Well, you know best, I am sure. Here we are," she added, as they turned a sharp corner and came to a great wooden door, bound with heavy iron bands and fastened with a massive iron lock. She took out a large, iron key and unlocked the door. She pushed against it, but was obviously finding it hard going.

Teal'c reached out and thrust his palm against the iron, and the door swung slowly open. "An impressive portal," he noted.

"The iron is supposed to be proof against faerie magic," Tryfena replied. "Certainly it is resistant to an old woman's strength."

Teal'c smiled, finding that the old warrior reminded him a little of Bra'tac. "It would provide formidable resistance," he assured her. Such a mass of solid metal would barely be heated by a staff blast, and the iron would also be likely to dissipate a zat'nik'tel discharge. An energy cannon would make short work of the door, but there was a sharp bend in the corridor just before, so that a cannon brought to bear on the door would be so close that it and its operators would be destroyed in its opening blast.

"Well, here it is," Tryfena told him. "The faerie hoard of Carndeinol. Will it be any use?"

Teal'c smiled, with grim satisfaction. "I believe it will."

Jack ran to the town square, following the sound of staff blasts. "Faerie weapons?" He asked Teal'c.

"Twelve staff weapons," the Jaffa replied, indicating the group of guards who had been chosen to practice with them. They were firing at targets, getting a feel for the unfamiliar weapons and clearly quite taken with their power. Peran was watching with satisfaction. "Of an archaic design but quite functional. Also, nine elf bows." Teal'c held up a device that Jack had never seen before, but one that had a familiar design.

"Ah, Teal'c," Jack said. "That's a glove."

"It is an elf bow," Teal'c replied. "A weapon favoured by the Faerie for the painful, lingering death it can inflict when firing its hunting ammunition. The remaining cartridges for these bows however contain only battlefield arrows."

"Show me," Jack suggested.

Teal'c nodded. He slipped his hand into the gauntlet, turned to face a target, and flicked his hand sharply in its direction. With a bright flash, the target caught fire.

"Whoa!"

"Impressive," Peran added.

"Less powerful than a staff and less versatile than a zat'nik'tel , but most effective nonetheless," Teal'c assured him.

"How many shots?" Jack asked.

"Thirteen arrows to a cartridge," Teal'c replied. "And we have twenty-one cartridges."

"Not bad," Jack said. "Okay; pass 'em out."

"There were a number of shock grenades," Teal'c added. "But such weapons are designed to be used once, and as such do not last as long as staff weapons. Fortunately, the cartridge casings have preserved the arrows for the elf bows. There were no weapons which might be used against gliders."

Jack nodded. "Then I guess we cross that bridge when we come to it," he said.

The sound of a horn drifted through the city streets.

"What was that?" Jack asked.

"The horn of Marasnan Wartha," Peran replied. "They draw near. To the walls!" He ordered.

*

"Why don't you believe in the Grail?" Sam asked. "Everyone else seems to."

"You misunderstand me," Elowen replied. "I do believe in the Sangreal. I know that the faeries were defeated once before, but...That the king will return in some literal fashion to find the Grail and save us all? The line of Deinol is dead, the Grail lost beyond all memory even of what it was. The legends speak of a weapon, much older than the people of Logres, left by an ancient people to guard the land against the Buccan. But what weapon could defend an entire world?" She demanded. "Besides; if the weapon truly existed then it was lost in the same turmoil that broke that statue.

"Some believe that it is just a metaphor for the spirit of our people; that the legend means only that when King and people are at one with each other, they are unconquerable." She laughed, bitterly. "I doubt that is true however; even at one, my people could not stand up to the onslaught of Mab's Changelings forever."

"Don't be so sure," Sam replied. "People can surprise you."

Elowen raised her head at the sound of the alarm horns. "Mab is come," she said.

*

Rhys laid his son gently on a small bed, and drew a blanket over him.

"Wen," Taliesin murmured; he had repeated the name over and over since his injury.

"Will he be alright?" Daniel asked.

Rhys sighed. "He is strong," he replied, feeling the youth's brow. "But his will to live is weakened by his heartache."

"Elowen?"

"Aye. He cannot marry her and he knows it, but when did reason ever govern the affairs of the heart." He smoothed his son's hair before stepping back from the bedside. "He will recover soon, or not at all; the poison of the elf-shot is like that."

Daniel shivered. In the laboratory Rhys had shown him the thing that he had taken from Taliesin's shoulder. The 'elf-shot' looked a little like a small flint arrowhead, but its surface was broken by myriad tiny tubules and hooks, which Rhys explained had sent their maleficent influence out into the boy's body. As Daniel understood it, the dart was designed to spread a necrotising poison throughout the body, digging itself ever deeper into the flesh to prevent removal. The potion that Rhys had brewed was strong enough to 'kill' the dart; without which it would have remained active, and burrowed into any flesh it had touched.

"Had you not brought him straight to me," Rhys went on. "It would have been too late. Now we can only wait."

Daniel nodded, sombrely.

"In the meantime; we must talk, Deinol ap Jago."

"You called me that before," Daniel said. "So did Taliesin. Was that the name of the Rex Quondam."

"It was," Rhys agreed.

"Ap Jago," Daniel mused. "Son of Jago. Jackson? This is...Is there somewhere I can sit down?"

Rhys smiled, kindly. "Come," he said. "We can talk more easily in my study."

Rhys' study was a cosy little room with a log fire. The stone walls were hung with tapestries, and two large wooden chairs, padded with many cushions, stood before the hearth. The room was lit by two oil lamps, one resting on a sideboard, the other on an magnificently carved writing desk. A woman was tending the flames as Rhys led Daniel in, and she turned to curtsey.

"Master Rhys," she greeted the older man. "How is the Young Master?"

"He is resting, Caja," Rhys replied, wearily. "There is nothing more that we can do for him; we must trust to his strength."

"He's a good, strong lad," Caja declared. "Will you be needing anything else tonight?"

Rhys shook his head. "No, Caja. You may retire now. I would be grateful if you might sit with Taliesin a while," he added. "Your presence might give him comfort."

"Of course, Master Rhys," she said, adding with a show of supreme confidence: "And I shall call you as soon as he wakes."

"Thank you, Caja. Goodnight to you."

"Goodnight, Master Rhys. Goodnight to you, Sir," she said, curtseying briefly to Daniel. "I have left some food on the side there; please make sure that he eats something, and gets some sleep before daybreak."

"Caja..." Rhys chided, patiently.

"I will," Daniel promised.

"Thank you," she replied. "The same goes for yourself, Sir," she added. "You have ridden hard and you look exhausted." She closed the door behind her as she left.

"Please be seated," Rhys invited, gesturing to one of the chairs. He went to the sideboard and brought over the food – cold meat and salad – before taking the other seat. "And forgive Caja; she can be a little overprotective. She has cared for me and for my son all the years of Taliesin's life. His mother died in childbirth," he explained. "Caja lost her own child at the same time; the loss almost destroyed her. I hired her as the boy's wet nurse, and when he no longer needed her in that capacity they had grown too close for me to even consider dismissing her, and so she remained and helped me to raise him."

"Are you and Caja...?"

Rhys smiled, sadly. "That is between Caja and I," he said. "Not even the Rexque Futurus can ask me to divulge that information."

Daniel was struck once again by the fact that the people of Logres used the Latin phrase as a part of their own language, much as an English speaker on Earth might refer to 'schadenfreude' or 'je ne sais quois'.

"I'm not the Rexque Futurus," Daniel insisted.

"Are you not?" Rhys asked, doubtfully. "I remember you, Deinol ap Jago..."

"Daniel. Call me Daniel."

"Nonetheless, I remember you. My family carries a legacy of memory," he explained. "It comes only in dreams and flashes, but we remember a time from long before our birth; the time of Deinol ap Jago."

"So why can't you find the Sangreal?" Daniel asked, filing away the subject of the family's inherited memory for later discussion.

"It is not for us," Rhys replied. "Only the Rexque Futurus can reveal the Grail and unlock its power. We can only help you on your way."

"It's not my...!" Daniel began to protest. "Wait. What do you mean, help?"

"This library contains many ancient texts," Rhys replied.

"This is a library?"

"It is," Rhys assured him. "Like the palace, it was ancient even a thousand years ago, but since then my family have made it their task to salvage what we could of the ancient texts, copying down the contents of crumbling scrolls and faded pages so that their lore would not be lost. More recently, we have devoted ourselves to translation, analysis and commentary, as well as the furthering of the lore contained within those books."

"Was it from the books that you learned how to neutralise the elf shot?" Daniel asked.

Rhys shook his head. "That is an art passed down from my forefathers; but much of my work as an apothecary is informed by the ancient texts. Yet there is one book that we can not read," he admitted. "A book said to be written in the hand of Deinol himself. That book, our legacy tells us, will guide the Rexque to the Grail, and be the salvation of the land of Logres."

Daniel sat forward, excited as much by the prospect of ancient books as by the prophecies within them. "Show me," he said.

"Wait here."

Rhys rose from his chair and went out. He returned some fifteen minutes later with a heavy, leather bound volume, only to find Daniel fast asleep before the fire. Rhys laid the book on his desk, took a blanket from the closet and draped it over Daniel's recumbent form. Then he banked down the fire, put out the lamps, and left the young scholar to his sleep.

On the way to his own bed, he stopped by Taliesin's chamber. Caja sat at the boy's side, murmuring words of support, while her tears fell on his hand and her head nodded slowly.

"Caja," Rhys called, softly chiding.

"Master Rhys," she said, standing to face him and trying to wipe away her tears. Even after seventeen years Rhys had never managed to persuade her to drop the honorific, even in private. Similarly, she had always refused to marry him, or even to allow him to acknowledge her as his lover. While her black moods were more infrequent than ever, her temper remained uneven, and always she seemed to feel that she – the unwed mother of a nobleman's dead daughter – was unworthy of him.

Rhys stepped over to Caja, and folded her gently in his arms. At her worst, Caja would not even let him offer such comfort, and it was a relief to Rhys that she permitted the embrace.

"I'm sorry, Master Rhys," she said, sensitive as ever to his tone. "It is not my place to be here, but the boy is almost like a son to me."

"You have nothing to apologise for, Caja," he assured her. "I only felt that you should follow your own advice and get some sleep. If you want to stay with Taliesin, I shall bring you a blanket."

"That is kind of you," she replied. "But not necessary. I shall go to my bed now, Master Rhys." She took his hands, and squeezed them gently. "He will live," she promised. "I know it."

"He is strong," Rhys agreed. They both knew that strength alone would not win this battle, but they lied for each other's sake. He kissed her gently on the forehead. "Sleep well, Caja."

"And you, Master Rhys," she replied.

*

Mab's entourage arrived three hours after nightfall. They marched to within two bowshots of the walls of Carndeinol and then stopped. There was a full moon, and in its ghastly light the faerie looked even more terrible than when Daniel had seen them at the Gate. Mab's pale skin almost seemed to glow, the light filtering through her dark veil. Jack watched them through his miniature scope, and was startled to see one of the hunters scowling back at him.

"Queen of Logres," Mab called out, her voice clearly amplified so that it carried easily to the top of the town walls. "Open your gates and surrender yourself to me, or your people will suffer the consequences. Already, one hundred must die for removing the bodies of your parents, in defiance of my decree. A hundred more must now be slain to compensate me for the loss of one of my Hunters. Her murder by these alien interlopers will not be tolerated, and I hold you and yours responsible. The interlopers must also be surrendered to me; another hundred of your folk will die for each day that they remain at liberty."

"Did you kill this Hunter of hers?" Peran asked.

"It must have been Daniel," Sam realised.

"Go Daniel," Jack said.

Elowen stepped up on the edge of the parapet and raised her hands to her mouth. "Queen of the Faerie Host!" She called back, her voice sounding small after the sonorous thunder of Mab's proclamation, but her posture and tone defiant. "I give you only this! One chance to leave my world alive! Go back to your own lands, now, of your own free will, or we shall spill your life's blood upon this earth!"

Mab's response was immediate and her Goa'uld captain raised his staff weapon. An energy blast lanced towards Elowen, but with casual grace the Queen stepped back, letting the shot pass harmlessly over her head.

"Ready!" Elowen called.

At a cry from their captain, the Jaffa Hounds moved forward, staff weapons raised and ready to fire.

"Save the mines," Peran ordered. "Ready bows! Ready the faerie spears!" The warriors of the Royal Guard stood, drawing their bows and aiming their dozen staff weapons. Staff blasts began to burst on the walls.

"Fire!" Peran cried. To Jack's surprise, the bows actually made more noise than the staff weapons, the thwack of the shot and the great rushing billow of fifty arrows in flight drowning out even the detonations against the battlements for a moment.

The arrows fell in a mass, striking the advancing Jaffa like a wall. The Hounds stumbled, arrows jutting harmlessly from their armour, but several shafts lodged in the flesh of arms and throats. A second volley halted the advance completely, and a number of Jaffa fell. The captain called out, and the survivors fell back.

"You have chosen ill, Queen of Logres!" Mab called out. "Your kingdom will be wiped out! Your palace ground into the rock! Make no mistake, woman; I shall return, and you shall weep bitter tears!" She turned, and fled with her escort along the road to Porthbucca.

Many of the guards on the wall seemed amazed by how easily the attack had been repulsed, but Jack moved quickly to staunch their relief.

"That was just the beginning," he reminded them. "Next time, there'll be more of them."

"We could pursue them on horseback," Peran suggested. "Finish her before she reaches Porthbucca."

"We should not," Teal'c replied. "A Goa'uld taskforce can travel very swiftly at need, and she will not flee blindly. She will leave warriors to guard her retreat and ambush any who follow her. Any attempt to pursue will end badly."

"Then we must make ready," Elowen said. "Peran; send out messengers to all the villages and towns from here to Porthbucca, bearing my command to come to Carndeinol. Send the messengers out in threes and bid them to ride swiftly and away from the road. We must gather our warriors here, and send the civilians through to Hyneth." She turned to SG-1. "Teal'c; tell me what we must expect."

"Mab's forces will gather at the Stargate," Teal'c replied. "That is the only place where she can bring troops from her mothership by ring transport. If you have any mobile archers, they may be able to harry the camp while she prepares. If she has brought most of her troops by mothership, we have at least forty-eight hours until she can be ready; if she intends to bring the bulk of her ground forces through the Stargate, however, then we have less than a day to prepare.

"The attack will be a straightforward frontal assault," he went on. "Mab cares little for her troops, and will hurl them bodily at the walls if she believes that will bring them down. We will be able to wear them down considerably, but they are Jaffa, and they will be relentless."

"How will they attempt to breach the walls?" Elowen asked.

"With energy cannon," Teal'c replied. "They are most likely to succeed. You will need to assign warriors to prevent the Jaffa taking advantage of any breaches that they make. If we can but hold them long enough, they will withdraw."

Elowen nodded, seriously, clearly not thinking for a moment that Teal'c meant Mab would just go away. "And then?" She asked.

"Once the ground troops withdraw we must abandon the city and seek refuge in the mountains; for preference in deep cave systems. Mab will attack Carndeinol from the air, and we can do nothing to stop her."

"We let her have the city?" Elowen asked, distressed.

"No," Jack corrected. "We let her take possession, but we destroy any supplies we can't carry out of here, set booby traps all over, then we hit at her forces using guerrilla tactics. We can't stop her taking the city, but we can stop her getting comfortable."

Elowen nodded, wearily. "I shall have the servants of my household begin transporting supplies to the caves in the mountains," she said. "I know a few who might be good at setting traps as well. Meanwhile, the men need sleep, and so do the rest of us."

"Your Grace," Jack said. "We've faced worse odds than this and come through."

"Thank you, Colonel," the Queen said. "That is good to know. Goodnight to you all."

"Colonel," Sam said, as Elowen walked away. "When have we faced worse odds? Even against Apophis we were at least on his mothership with him."

Jack shrugged. "I just felt it was better for morale than 'we're all going to die'."

"Do you think we are all going to die?" Sam asked.

"Get some sleep, Carter."

"Yes, Sir."

*

Caja rose before dawn, and went down to the study to sweep out the fireplace. She wanted to look in on Taliesin, to sit by him, wipe his brow and hold his hand, but she had her duties to attend to before her own needs and desires. Besides which, he was not her child, and she felt it would be presumptuous to sit with him without Master Rhys' permission.

As Caja entered the study she was startled to see a man sitting at the desk; a man who was not Rhys ap Covey. She had barely recognised him as the young man who had brought Taliesin home the night before when he turned towards her, and she caught her breath.

"Deinol ap Jago," she gasped in astonishment. "Rex Quondam, Rexque Futurus."

"Um...So they tell me," Daniel agreed.

"Forgive me, Your Grace; I did not recognise you by firelight last night."

"Don't worry about it," Daniel assured her. "I wonder if you can help me: Can you read?"

Caja was startled. "Me? Help you?"

"Yes."

"Yes, Your Grace," she assured him. "Master Rhys taught me my letters alongside Ta...the Young Master. That is, I was there and I may have picked up a few things. He did not set out to teach me; I could not afford such learning, nor would I presume..."

Daniel held up his hand. "I think that was a yes," he said. "Anyway, do you recognise this language?" He handed her a sheet of paper, freshly written with black ink, from a pen the like of which she had never seen.

"It is the old Kennick language of Logres, Your Grace," she told him.

"Daniel," he said. "Call me Daniel."

"I could not," she insisted. "It is not my place."

Daniel sighed. "As you wish," he said. "So please; you can read Kennick?"

"Oh yes; I..." She paused. "I mean...Master Rhys does. I may have picked up a thing or two, but I am no scholar, Sir. Your Grace," she corrected herself. "I only know a little writing," she hastened to assure him. "It is an affectation. I know I am wrong to give myself such airs, Your Grace, but please do not think badly of Master Rhys for it."

"Why would I think badly of him?" Daniel asked, genuinely confused. He sighed. "Learning isn't the province of the privileged – or it shouldn't be – and if you can read that, then you may be able to help me a great deal."

"Really you should ask Master Rhys..." Caja began.

"He's sleeping," Daniel reminded her. "I don't want to disturb him." He stood up. "Please, sit here and read through what I've written."

Caja frowned. "You do not know what you have written?"

Daniel indicated the book. "This text is written in Kennick," he explained. "But the words have been transliterated into Linear C. The Kennick is clearly a derivation of Cornish Kernewek, but while I understand enough Kernewek to translate it eventually, it will be quicker if you do it for me."

"Alright," Caja agreed. "Your Grace?" She said, her eyes requesting permission to ask a question.

"Yes?"

"What is Linear C?"

Daniel smiled. "There are two very ancient scripts on my world, also used by a small number of Goa'uld, called Linear A and Linear B. Linear C was a variant of Linear B that occurred only on a single source; with no reference it was impossible to translate."

"But you can read it?"

"Of course," Daniel said. "I invented it. A friend and I created it one summer to play a trick another archaeologist we knew."

"I see," Caja replied. She seemed to accept this explanation for a moment, but then she did a double take. "Your Grace," she said. "Is this not the account of Deinol ap Jago?"

"It is."

"Written over a thousand years ago?"

"That's right."

"And when did you invent this language?"

Daniel scratched his head. "Well, that's the funny thing," he agreed. "Only about ten years ago."

"Then it is true," Caja said. "You are the Rexque Futurus."

"Not as far as I'm aware," Daniel replied. "Although I admit the evidence is pretty damning. Either way, I figure it's more important to work out what the Sangreal is and what I'm supposed to do with it rather than worry about whether I really am the Once and Future King."

Caja nodded. "As you say."

"Okay then," he told her. "You read, and I'll take notes."

A few hours after dawn, Rhys came into the study and found Caja and Daniel working on the last of the translation.

"Caja," he said, softly. "If Daniel can spare you, would you mind sitting with Taliesin again?"

"Of course," Caja assured him. "Your Grace?"

"Hmm? Yes, go ahead," Daniel said. "Thank you for your help."

As she passed him, Rhys put out his hand to touch Caja's arm, but she flinched away from his touch. Rhys watched her go with a melancholy expression.

"Well," Daniel said, sufficiently caught up in his work to miss the subtext. "If I am the Once and Future King, and I did write this, then if I ever meet my past self, I'm going to kick his ass."

Rhys raised an eyebrow, quizzically.

"I've read everything Umberto Eco ever wrote, but this is the most cryptic piece of work I've ever come across," Daniel explained. "It's not my handwriting," he added. "But it is written in a script I invented."

"What does it say?" Rhys asked, fascinated.

"Well, apparently this is not the first time Mab has attacked Logres. A thousand years ago, give or take, she came to try and seize the Sangreal. In the darkest hour however, Daniel – and incidentally, it's spelled out phonetically as 'Daniel Jackson', not 'Deinol ap Jago' – emerged, seemingly from nowhere. He uncovered the location of the Sangreal and knew its secrets as though he had been there before. He unlocked its power, and through the Lapis ex Coelis and the Lapsit Exilis the faerie hosts were driven off,  Mab's consort, Rawl, was struck down, and his great steel ship of the skies was cast down into the sea."

"Wait," Rhys said. "What are the Lapis ex Coelis and the Lapsit Exilis?"

"That's what's confusing me," Daniel admitted. "They're both terms for the Grail, but they rarely occur together in the same source. Lapis ex Coelis means 'stone fallen from heaven', while Lapsit Exilis is 'thing of no worth'. They're used in different sections of the manuscript, but I can't work out if they're supposed to be the same thing, or just parts of a larger Grail." He shook he head. "I'm not sure, but...What do you make of this passage?"

Rhys took the proffered page and studied it for a moment. "The answer lies within the Great Library, committed to the Scroll of Ages."

"Do you know of such a scroll?"

Rhys shook his head. "But this is not the Great Library. That would be the archive under the palace in Carndeinol."

Daniel nodded. "I guess I'll have to go back there then," he said.

"So it seems," Rhys agreed, distractedly.

Daniel realised that Rhys' concentration was elsewhere. "How is he?" He asked.

"Restless," Rhys replied. "I think that is a good sign, but I have never actually treated anyone elf-shot before."

"He'll be okay," Daniel promised.

Caja sat by Taliesin's side. He was moaning and muttering in his sleep now, and she took his hand in hers.

"Wen?"

Caja sighed, knowing only too well the heartache that could come from loving above your station. "Hush, Young Master," she whispered, stroking his brow. "You mustn't dwell on her. You know it can never be; Elowen an Geren is too high to marry the likes of you, whatever her wishes. Dreaming of what you can never have will only hurt you, Taliesin." She winced and looked away, feeling the pain of her own indiscretions so keenly that she barely noticed she had slipped and used his given name.

"Caja?"

"Taliesin?" She looked down, and saw that his eyes had opened. He looked worn and tired, but his gaze was sharp and alert. "I mean, Young Master," she corrected herself, blushing.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that, Caja," Taliesin told her.

"I will fetch Master Rhys," the housekeeper said. "He will want to see you."

"Wait," Taliesin said, catching her by the arm. "I haven't seen you in months, Caja. You can sit with me a few minutes more."

"I should not, Young Master. Your father should be here."

"As you wish," Taliesin sighed, regretfully. "It's just...I miss you, Caja, when I am away, and I hardly get an opportunity to speak with you when I am here. You always seem to be busy."

Caja averted her gaze from his. "You are here so rarely; you should spend the time with your father."

"And what about my mother?"

"Your mother is dead," Caja whispered.

"You are the only mother I have ever known," Taliesin said.

Caja stood up suddenly, angrily. "I will fetch your father," she blurted out. "You should try to rest some more."

"You use that word too much," Taliesin told her.

"Young Master?" Caja asked, struggling with her temper.

"Should."

Caja's eyes sparkled with tears. "As you say, Young Master," she said.

"Caja," Taliesin called, as she turned to go. She looked back, and he struggled to find the right words to say to her to make her realise what she meant to him. In the end, nothing came to him. "Thank you for sitting with me," he said.

*

Sam picked suspiciously at her lunch, although Jack did not appear to have come to any harm from wolfing down two of the things in succession.

"I'm just saying," she told her CO. "I have a fear of unidentified meat."

"Ah, fer cryin' out loud, Carter," Jack said. "It's a pasty, not a haggis. It's just ground beef. Anyway, as Daniel would no doubt point out, you're insulting these people."

Sam grimaced, and took a bite out of her pasty. She chewed, swallowed, and took another bite. "This is good," she said, surprised.

"Oh ye of little faith," Jack chided. "Also, handy and portable. I like this planet."

"That's good," Sam said. "It's always nice to like the place where you're going to die."

Teal'c climbed up to the battlements to join his team-mates, pasty in hand.

"You're very negative today, Carter," Jack observed.

"We've passed our deadline and are sixteen hours overdue. If the SGC haven't contacted us yet it must be because Mab's Jaffa have taken out the MALP relay, which means no reinforcements. Sir; I can't help feeling that we're in real trouble this time."

"As opposed to what?" Jack asked.

"Colonel O'Neill is correct," Teal'c agreed. "While we have been in few less promising situations, I do not see any call for fatalism."

Sam squirmed, uncomfortably. "I'm just not sure we're all going to make it," she admitted. "Call it...a feeling."

Jack nodded, seriously, knowing that Sam was always reticent to own to her instincts for fear of being accused of 'feminine intuition'. "I know this is a bad spot, but we've been in bad spots before," he reminded her. "And I promise you, as God is my witness, that we will be in bad spots again."

Sam smiled. "Thank you, Sir," she said. "That makes me feel a whole lot better."

"Good," Jack said. "That's what I like to hear." He turned to his other team-mate. "Teal'c; any sign of anything useful?"

"There is not," Teal'c replied. "I have made a thorough search of the armoury, but found no other Goa'uld weapons. Tryfena will keep looking through some of the other treasuries, but is not hopeful."

"Well, keep us posted," Jack said. "I'm going to see Elowen; find out if the messengers are back yet."

 *

 By early afternoon, Taliesin was almost completely recovered, and Daniel was eager to be off. A goodly helping of Caja's mutton stew had done much to revive the boy, both in body and in spirit, but the awkward lunch had given Daniel a closer insight into the twisted dynamics of Rhys' household than he wanted. A veteran of foster care, he recognised Taliesin's desperate yearning for Caja to accept him as her child only too well, and it was heartbreaking to see the woman denying the love she felt for these two men from a sense of her own unworthiness. Daniel would have liked to help, but frankly if she had been this unforgiving of herself for seventeen years, a few words from Daniel Jackson were unlikely to snap Caja out of her funk.

"Father," Taliesin said, after the meal. "We need to return to the capital soon."

"Of course," Rhys replied.

"Also, I would like to take your sword with me."

Caja looked stricken, but said nothing.

"You're not a warrior, lad," Rhys said.

"No," Taliesin agreed. "But I can fight, and I promised El...I promised that I would."

Caja stood and began gathering the plates, clearly not wanting to hear any more. As she left, Daniel picked up the earthenware bowl she had served the stew from and followed her, leaving father and son to their talk.

"Taliesin," Rhys said, gently. "The Queen has a hundred of the finest warriors in Logres to defend her; she does not need you to die for her."

Taliesin bridled. "I was not planning on dying," he assured his father.

"Tal, please..."

"I promised," Taliesin said. "I swore that if Mab could not be stopped, I would fight beside her."

"And what does Ossine say to that?"

"Ossine is not her master!" Taliesin snapped, jumping to his feet. "She will never marry him, Father; if nothing else, of that I am sure."

"It does not matter," Rhys replied. "She can never marry you."

"And Caja will never marry you," Taliesin said.

Now it was Rhys' turn to leap angrily to his feet. "Do not ever...!"

"Why do you not see it, Father?" Taliesin demanded. "The royal line failed three hundred years ago. Half of the noble families in Logres were elevated from among the common folk at the same time. There is no difference of blood any more, if there ever was; there is only this prejudice. You keep telling Caja that your status does not matter, but you still believe that the son of a village headman can not marry the Queen." He sat down, disgusted. "It is stupid and it is wrong. It has kept me from having a mother, and if nothing changes it will keep me from having a wife as well."

"It is not the same, son," Rhys said. "Sit down; and listen."

 *

Tryfena paused in her search of the royal armoury to stretch her aching limbs and rub the small of her back. She really should have got someone to help her with this search, but the younger warriors were all at the wall, the servants were assisting with the evacuation of the city, and besides, she wanted to feel useful. As she stood there, amidst the shelves which housed the wealth of the royal line of Logres, she slowly realised that there was someone else in the treasury with her; someone who was muttering in a low and incomprehensible voice.

Being a serious and sensible woman, Tryfena did not respond to this suspicious set of circumstances by calling out 'who's there?'. Instead, she prowled slowly towards the voice, her feet making no sound on the familiar floors of the armoury, alert for any sign of danger. As she moved closer, she became convinced that the voice belonged to no human being, and a shiver of fear – an unfamiliar sensation – crept up her spine. Carefully, Tryfena loosened her seax in its sheath so that the heavy blade slid free with barely a whisper.

 With painstaking care, Tryfena closed in on the speaker, or rather speakers, because now she could make out two distinct voices, although their words were still indecipherable. Seax held low and ready, the old guardswoman stepped around the corner and saw...

Nothing. No-one. Yet still the voices spoke on.

Her face creased into a frown, Tryfena searched for the source of the sound, until at last her eyes came to light on one of the higher shelves.

*

Caja was startled when Daniel followed her into the kitchen of the library-hall. "You did not have to do this," she said, taking the bowl from his arms.

"It seemed as good a way as any to get out of the room," Daniel replied. "I thought Rhys and Taliesin might want to be alone."

"Yes," Caja agreed, not entirely convincingly.

"You want to be in there with them," Daniel said.

"No," she insisted. "It would not be my place."

Daniel sighed. "Yes it would," he told her. "Can't you see how much they need you?"

"Your Grace, you should not concern yourself with me," Caja said. "I should..." She stopped.

"What is it?" Daniel asked.

"Just something that Talie...the Young Master said to me."

"Caja, listen to me," Daniel said.

"Yes, Your Grace?"

"My parents were killed when I was very young," he said. "I was bounced around various foster homes, but for some reason, none of them ever really took to me. They looked after me and made all the right moves, but none of them ever treated me as though I were theirs, and I cannot tell you how much that hurt, because I still can't put it into words. We have an annual holiday called Thanksgiving," he told her. "Traditionally it's the time that you go back home to your family; to the people who raised you. I have no-one to go back to because I never felt a real connection to any of my foster parents; not enough to keep in touch with them. So far as I know, they're all still alive, but..." He shook his head, sadly.

"I look at Taliesin, and I see myself in him; I see the same need I felt back then." He put his hands on Caja's shoulders. "He needs a mother. Specifically, he wants you to be his mother."

"It is complicated," Caja told him.

"Not from where I'm sitting," Daniel replied. "Taliesin wants you to be his mother, and you want it too."

"He has a mother," Caja said.

"No he doesn't," Daniel replied. "There was another woman who gave him life, and I don't want to belittle that, but he never knew her. From the first, he only knew you, and you've always held him away, even though it hurt to do it. It's the same with Rhys. There's so much you could give each other – and that you want to give each other – but you won't let it happen."

"You don't understand!" Caja's voice cracked. "I cannot...I do not deserve it."

"They think you do," he said, gently.

"Your Grace is kind," Caja said, wearily. "But you do not understand our ways."

Daniel sighed. "Look; I know I'm an outsider – Rexque Futurus or otherwise – but think about what I've said. If nothing else...You know, don't you, that you're not just hurting yourself. You're hurting them."

Caja's eyes sparkled with tears. "I do not mean to," she said.

"I know you don't," Daniel assured her. "So why not let up on yourself," he suggested. "Stop punishing yourself – and them – for a mistake you made almost twenty years ago. I know you think you're doing what's right, but sometimes traditions have to change." He smiled. "Trust me," he said. "I'm the Once and Future King, apparently."

Caja smiled, wanly. "I will think about what you have said. Thank you."

*

"Master Teal'c!"

"Mistress Tryfena." The Jaffa turned as the custodian approached him, holding something in her hands.

"I found this in the treasury," she said. "It must be of faerie make, and it spoke strange words."

Teal'c reached out his hand and took the Goa'uld communication sphere from the guardswoman. "Do you recall what was said?" He asked.

Tryfena shook her head. "I did not understand the words," she admitted.

"Thank you, Tryfena," Teal'c said. "This may prove invaluable."

"It may?"

"Come with me," he said. "I will show you."

*

"Are you sure you don't mind me taking this?" Daniel asked Rhys, indicating the account of Deinol ap Jago.

"I am sure," the older man replied. "Also, I have placed some other volumes in your saddlebags; just a few because I know that you must travel swiftly, but they may be useful. Even if they are not, I hope you will accept them as a gift; as thanks for saving my son's life."

"Thank you," Daniel said, sincerely.

Caja emerged from the library-hall, carrying a scabbarded sword and a broad belt. "I am sorry for taking so long," she said. "It had grown very dusty and..." She stopped, looking flustered, and approached Taliesin. "May I..." She began.

Taliesin smiled. "Please do," he said.

Caja gave a shaky smile, then she put her arms around the boy's waist, and buckled on the sword belt. Rhys looked on, and his eyes filled with tears.

"Thank you, Caja," Taliesin said.

"Bear it well and wisely," Caja told him.

"Take care, my son," Rhys enjoined the youth.

"And you," Taliesin replied. "The Buccan may come here as well. You had best prepare as much as you can." He reached out and took Caja's hand, and then his father's. "Look after each other," he told them.

"We always do," Caja assured him.

Daniel and Taliesin mounted their horses, and turned them towards Carndeinol. Daniel looked back to say farewell, and saw Rhys lay his hand gently on Caja's shoulder; she did not shake him off.

"Taliesin," Daniel said. "In Logres, would I be right in thinking that an man would receive his first sword from his mother."

"You would be right," Taliesin assured him. "Why are you smiling?"

"No reason," Daniel demurred. "It's just nice to feel you're making a difference, isn't it?"

*

Jack sat with Tryfena, watching with equal incomprehension as Sam and Teal'c prodded the communication sphere with pins.

"If you wish to know what is inside, why do you not cut it open?" Tryfena asked.

Sam looked up, impatiently. "The communication sphere contains a number of very delicate circuits which give it the sensitivity to detect broadcast signals from other spheres light-years away. In order to protect those circuits the inside of the sphere is filled with an inert gas; if we crack the sphere, the gas escapes, and the circuits will be contaminated."

"It would stop working?" Jack asked, feeling certain that Tryfena was no more enlightened by Sam's answer than he was.

"It would still work," Sam admitted. "But not as well. It probably wouldn't pick up anything broadcasting from outside this solar system and we would lose the visuals. However, once we find the right points on the surface of the sphere we should be able to control it though induction."

"Carter," Jack said. "Time is a factor. Need I also remind you that you said you were looking for recorded conversations, and that, anyway, Mab's mothership is parked in orbit."

Sam looked up at Teal'c and shrugged. The Jaffa raised an eyebrow. Sam drew her knife and her sidearm. She set the tip of the knife on the top of the sphere and brought the butt of the pistol down sharply on the end of the handle. The knife cut a fraction of an inch into the sphere; there was a sharp hiss and the surface of the sphere became transparent, revealing a small block of metal and crystals suspended at the centre. Sam twisted the knife and the sphere cracked open.

"Smartest person I ever met," Jack confided in Tryfena, as Sam began manipulating the block with a pair of needle nose pliers. "But she will insist on making things difficult for herself."

"You know me," Sam told him, smiling. "I love a challenge."

The cluster of crystals lit up, and a Goa'uld voice, distorted and staticky, but clearly female, spoke: "...are for a full assault as soon as the full battalion is in readiness on the surface."

"Yes, My Queen," a different voice, also a Goa'uld, but that of a man, replied. "The Hunters have asked permission to join the assault."

"No!" Mab snapped. "They will continue the search; I shall not be denied this time."

"They desire vengeance for their fallen comrade," the man replied. "Pras has sworn to eat the heart of the interloper who slew his mate."

"Pras will do as he is commanded, Fearghus; as will you, my love."

"Yes, My Queen."

The speech cut off.

"That was the last conversation recorded by the sphere," Sam said. "We can try and recover some earlier material, see if we turn up anything else of use, but for now we know that she is sending a battalion against us."

"How many is that?" Jack asked.

"At least two hundred Jaffa," Teal'c replied.

"This could get ugly," Jack said.

"Sir," Sam said, referring to her instruments. "According to the sphere's memory, there was a space of approximately one thousand years between uses. It was reactivated when it received a strong signal three months ago."

"Let's hear it," Jack said.

"Yes, Sir."

The sphere crackled into life again. "Hello. Can anyone hear me. This is a message for Mab, Queen of the Buccan, whose bauble this is. I am a friend, and I have urgent news regarding Logres and the Sangreal."

"That was a human!" Tryfena said, appalled. "We were betrayed!"

"This is the next recording," Sam said.

"Greetings, man of Logres." The voice was Mab's, but without the Goa'uld rumble; the tone was sultry and seductive. "You sought to contact the Queen of the Faerie, and lo, you have succeeded. Tell me your news."

"The Sangreal is lost, mighty Mab," the man replied. "I know that you desire this land, and now it is yours for the taking."

"Indeed," Mab hissed, failing to hide her interest. "And what do you wish in payment for this treachery?"

"Only the honour of serving the greatest of monarchs," the man assured her.

"You shall have it," Mab promised. "And more. Keep this bauble with you always," she commanded. "I shall speak with you when I have need of your service."

"Bastard," Tryfena hissed.

"You recognise the voice?" Jack asked.

Tryfena shook her head. "It was too distorted, but the accent was of Logres. We are betrayed by our own."

Jack nodded, slowly. "Carter," he said. "Keep working on that sphere, but get a couple of recordings of that voice and have Peran pass it around and see if anyone knows it. Tryfena; stay with Carter and see if you recognise it if it comes out clearer on any of the other recordings. Teal'c; see what you can pick up on Mab's strategy."

"What will you do, O'Neill?" Teal'c asked.

"I'm going to see if the Queen has any enemies," he said.

 *

"Riders! Riders approach!"

Elowen dashed to the battlements as Jack approached her, then at once turned and ran down to the courtyard within the main gate. Jack followed at a more sober pace.

The gates were opened, and a troop of horsemen rode through, led by Gurcan ap Conoc.

"Welcome to Carndeinol," Elowen told Gurcan. "We are glad to see you here."

"We come as we are summoned, Your Grace," Gurcan replied. "My father follows with the rest of our people, and the folk of Marasnan Wartha are also on the road. The Faerie have scouts on the road however, and they have begun to burn the farms nearer to Porthbucca."

"How many are there?" Elowen asked. "Does anyone know?"

"At least two hundred," Jack answered.

"How can you know that," Cathbad scoffed. "Are you magicians to see so far?"

"No," Jack replied, angrily. "But we've got hold of a little bit of left over faerie 'magic'."

Cathbad scowled, but looked more afraid than angry. "Two hundred," he said to Elowen. "We are making preparations to flee into the hills already. Perhaps..."

"No," Elowen replied. "While we hold the city we control the passes to the mountains; we shall not retreat until the civilians have made it to safety. Gurcan," she said to the young warrior. "My servants will find a billet for your men, but your rest will be short I fear. When your people come they will have to pass on into the mountains."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Gurcan said.

The warriors of Marasnan Woles filed into the city, leaving two riders behind. Daniel and Taliesin slipped down from their mounts, and allowed a groom to lead the horses away.

"What's in the bag?" Jack asked.

"Books," Daniel replied.

"Figures," Jack said with a chuckle. "You okay?"

"Tired," Daniel replied. "Taliesin was elf-shot, but he's recovered."

"What!" Elowen exclaimed, her face going pale. "Taliesin!"

"I am well," he assured her. "My father removed the shot, and I healed. Daniel has translated the account of Deinol," he added.

"Taliesin..." Elowen began, wearily.

"It was written in a script of his own inventing," Taliesin pressed. "How could that be if he is not the Rexque?"

"I do not know," Elowen replied. "But until he holds the Sangreal in his hands and the land is free from Changelings, I can not let myself believe in fables."

"Any joy on that front?" Jack asked.

"Some," Daniel replied. "The account has references to the Lapis ex Coelis – the stone from heaven – and the Lapsit Exilis – thing of little worth. I think we're looking for something easily overlooked, which was brought here from another world; probably a weapon of the Ancients. The clues should be in the library at the palace. Your Grace, with your permission..."

"I can not put my faith in legends," Elowen repeated.

"Just give us a chance," Daniel said. "As you said, I'm not much of a warrior, so what harm can it do to keep me out of the way?&q