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THE REAL ADVENTURES OF JONNY QUEST

Synopsis: The heroes take time out from their quest-- to fall in love.

"THE INNER LIGHT"

by Eric R. Umali

"Mayfaire"

Jessamyn heard the music from about half a league away. They knew they were approaching a large town, but were not expecting a faire. She settled back into her saddle.

"A faire? Jonathor, what is the date?"

"It nears the first of May, if not later."

"How wonderful! I've never been to a Mayfaire."

"I have, once," he said, scratching his chin. "It was fairly enjoyable, really. At least from my twelve-year-old's perspective. I doubt I would find it so now. But we must be moving on."

"Really, warrior, couldn't we spare a _single_ day to ourselves? What with all we've done for these lands, we deserve respite, don't you agree?"

He turned sternly. "Milady-"

She cut him off. "I've told you a thousand times not to call me that."

"Jessamyn, liberating this kingdom is not our trade, it is our destiny. We do not do this for recompense."

She sighed. Suddenly, a spark of inspiration appeared. "Jonathor, how long is the journey to the borders of the Wizard's lands?"

"A good sen'night."

"Have we provisions for such a journey? There are no large villages between here and there."

The young warrior shook his head in defeat. "Very well. I will procure us the necessary items, while you... attend the Mayfaire." Jessamyn smiled and he could not help but return it. They rode on until they reached a fork in the path. To the right lay the walls and battlements of the town; to the left, the colorful tents and banners of the Mayfaire.

Jonathor guided Bandit right. "Once I have gotten our provisions, I will secure us rooms at the inn. Should I expect you to dine with me, or will you be longer?"

Jessamyn was confused. "Jonathor, I had expected you to join me at the faire. It is not even midday and your tasks will take an hour at most."

"I do not think I would enjoy the faire."

"And I do not think I will enjoy it without you."

"I would spoil your fun."

"You spoil it now. If you do not join me, I will be most sorely disappointed."

Again, she had bested him. "I could never disappoint you, Jessamyn," he said, and meant it. "I will join you as soon as I am finished."

"You _will_ join me by midday." She placed her hands on her hips and put on her most regal airs.

"Aye, midday," he muttered and rode towards the town. Jessamyn trotted off towards the faire.

**********

Tying Iris to a large, long hitching post, Jessamyn began wandering the faire. Sheltered as she had been during her preparation for her destiny, she was rarely allowed outside the castle walls. The sights and sounds of the place surrounded her and sent her mind whirling. Everywhere she turned were tents of the most colorful cloth, each with a sign outside enticing the passerby to enter and have their purse lightened. Vendor stalls of every size were there, selling everything from the most ordinary of household items to the most exotic of trinkets from faraway lands.

Jessamyn found it quite difficult to resist the temptation to buy this bauble or that bracelet, or some magic crystal or other. Eventually, she had settled on a beautiful silver hairclip for herself and a silver ring for Jonathor. Both pieces were engraved with intricate Celtic knot designs. She wasn't sure why she'd bought the warrior a present, but she believed it might cheer up his usually dour demeanor.

Her purchases stowed securely in her vest, she found herself drawn to the sound of high, happy laughter. Turning a corner, she found the source. A dozen or so children were crowded around a puppet show, giggling and shouting in delight. Jessamyn found an empty stool nearby and watched, entranced.

There were several small characters running about it great agitation when a huge, dark form rose up and began menacing the puppet villagers. Once the form's identity as the evil wizard was established, a new pair of puppets appeared. They were as tall as the wizard, which made them twice the size of the regular people. One had a long mane of gold hair, the other a full shock of red.

From what she could hear over the din of the children, the puppeteer was describing the prophesied battle between the forces of light and darkness. Jessamyn laughed as she heard Jonathor described as a ten foot tall juggernaut of a warrior who wore invincible armor and could cleave boulders in twain, and herself as an equally imposing figure, capable of immolating entire encampments of the wizard's magicked soldiers without effort. *No wonder no one's recognized me,* she thought. *I could hardly be mistaken for the mighty and beautiful sorceress Jessamyn. I'll wager Jonathor is finding the same anonymity himself.*

Soon, she looked up. The sun was high above her head, so she got up and walked towards the hitching posts to try and find Jonathor. She was distracted again by the sound of loud shouting, but now it was most certainly the voices of adults. Heading towards the ruckus, she found a large group of people crowded around a raised platform upon which two men were engaged in fighting. She saw money passing hands among the spectators, and concluded it was a wrestling or boxing match. To her surprise, she also saw a large number of women lining the ring, all pointing and whispering to each other. When Jessamyn neared the ring, she saw why.

One of the fighters was a hulk of a man, covered with hair and ugly as sin. His opponent was younger, and faster, and every time he moved, his whipcord muscles would flex and ripple. His golden blonde hair was pulled back and his blue eyes shone with the excitement of the match.

Clad only in his leggings, Jonathor seemed to be exciting the women-- making them swoon-- as much as he excited the men-- making them money. Jessamyn watched, fascinated, as the young man wove around the ring, graceful as any dancer she'd ever seen. She was far from immune to Jonathor's handsome features, and not for the first time, she found herself thinking some very friendly thoughts about the young man.

Finally, the hulk who was his opponent lurched forward, giving Jonathor the opening he sought. The young man's foot made contact with the other's chin, sending him sprawling to the mat. Jonathor briefly raised his arm in triumph, then graciously helped his opponent to his feet. The combatants shook hands in respect.

Jonathor was handed a cloth, and he dried himself as he walked to the bench where he'd placed his clothing. Standing there, hands on hips again, was Jessamyn.

"Are we enjoying ourselves?" she asked, smiling.

"Aye, we are," he replied. A man came up from behind and slapped him on the back.

"A wonderful performance," said the man. "Here is your purse." The man handed Jonathor a leather pouch heavy with coins. Then he turned to see Jessamyn, and his eyes widened. He looked back at the young man, then again at the young woman.

"The heroes..." he whispered, "You are the heroes..." The man then ran off. The two young people stood confused.

Jonathor began quickly donning his clothes. "We'd best be going quickly. He may be alerting the wizard's men."

Jessamyn nodded. Suddenly, a great roar went up and a huge mob of people came rushing towards them. Unable to react quickly enough, the wave of people overtook them, and they were raised up by a dozen hands, onto shoulders and carried above heads until they reached the center of the faire where a great, gaudily decorated stage had been raised.

They were deposited gently upon the stage, and they immediately prepared for a fight. The crowd parted to allow the man from earlier to take the stage. He turned to the crowd.

"My fellow townspeople! As you know, this year's Mayfaire is the most successful in our history, and now, fate has decided to smile upon us further! We have today two most distinguished visitors-the Champions of the Light, the Swordsman and the Sorceress, our liberators, Jonathor and Jessamyn!!"

The crowd roared as one, throwing up its hands and applauding like mad. The two young people relaxed from their battle readiness, but were soon made uncomfortable by the attention. The man introduced himself as the mayor and fawned over them and thanked them profusely for gracing their humble Mayfaire with their presence. Soon, they were sat on chairs on the stage to shake hands with town elder after town elder, one businessman after another, and every local luminary possible. At Jessamyn's request, they spent time with many of the children, who asked them question after question with wide, wondering eyes.

By afternoon, the mayor had a new proclamation. "In honor of our distinguished guests," he cried from the stage, "we will hold a great ball tonight!" Jessamyn applauded. Jonathor went white. She caught this and leaned over. "What's wrong?" she whispered.

"Dancing is not my strong suit," he answered.

"Nonsense."

"They tried to teach me at the enclave and I failed miserably."

"I've seen how graceful you are. You'll be wonderful."

The ball was indeed great. Nearly all the town was there, from the wealthiest merchants to the poorest peasants. Everyone had been invited. With some help from the mayor's wife, Jessamyn had restored her much-abused formal gown to its former glory. She sat on a raised dais at the head of the great tent. Her hair was brushed until shining and cascaded around her shoulders and down her back. The gown was crushed velvet in her familiar dark green, and had gold brocade at its neck and sleeves. She looked every bit the Royal Lady Jessamyn she often tried to leave behind.

The local merchants had gifted Jonathor with a magnificent outfit of black and gold-trousers and a formal tunic that was emblazoned with a dragon design. He sat next to Jessamyn, watching the festivities. Soon, the band below them started the first of the formal dances. Jessamyn turned to him, holding out her hand. He took it and rose, sighing heavily. She elbowed him in the ribs. Taking the hint, he led her to the dance floor.

They began apart, and wound their way through varied patterns, partnering with others, passing under arms and around until at last they danced with each other. Jessamyn was amazed. When they came back together, Jonathor was smiling broadly. She was struck by how handsome he looked, and how comfortable and warm she felt in his arms.

Jonathor couldn't help but smile. He was having a wonderful time, now that he'd forgotten his trepidation. When Jessamyn swung into his hold, he nearly stopped in his tracks. He had always found the young woman beautiful, and had often wondered if they were destined to be more than allies and friends. He couldn't believe how striking she was tonight. Her face seemed to shine when she looked at him.

When the music ended, they were in the center of the floor. They looked around, still locked in each others' arms, to see that everyone else had stopped dancing long before to watch them. Jonathor and Jessamyn stood there, gazing at each other, the entire tent quiet. Moments later, a single cry ended the silence.

"Oh, kiss her already!!" shouted a voice. Another joined in, "Yeah, kiss him!" Shout after shout rang through the crowd, until every single person was on their feet, cheering them on.

Jonathor smiled, and Jessamyn nodded happily. He brought his lips to hers and they kissed, long and deep. Tenderness and affection radiated from one to the other, until they both felt aglow.

They were. The gold light filled the tent, and the festivities continued well into the night.

**********

"Ahem..." Benton cleared his throat as the screen went to static. Race bit his lip. Hadji was smart enough not to look either of the older men in the face.

Especially when trying to hide the smile on his face. He gave a quick "Yes!" gesture under the table, then returned to work.

Benton opened his mouth, then closed it. He tried once more, and failed. Before he could try a third time, Race raised a hand.

"They're still safe, doc, that's what I'm thinking about right now."

"Agreed."

TO BE CONTINUED...