THE AWFUL TRUTH

-x-

One

-x-

The White Palace was at peace. It was mid morning, but most of the inhabitants were still asleep. It had been a long night. The palace was slow to turn and had only just started heading back towards land. The suns beamed down on its ivory towards and courtyards, and the light sparkled on the gentle waves of the sea.

The light fell upon the less singed end of the stables, where a unicorn dreamed of a slender tree, dappled in a spring sunshine, sheltering a white egg. It had been an image recurring to her recently – at first she had been glad of it, since it had chased away the memories of blood and pain, and the sight of fire before her sleeping eyes, but still the tree made her feel uneasy. It felt somehow final, as though there were nothing beyond it, and the egg felt not so much as a beginning as an end.

The light fell upon a large bedroom above the main courtyard, where a couple held each other in their sleep. The man dreamed of flight, and of floating and being wrapped in a vanilla scented blanket. The woman dreamed of men fighting, and her screaming for them to stop.

The light fell upon another large and lavish room, where a young woman slept alone. She dreamed of past happiness, of feeling safe and protected and beloved, dreamed of a boy she used to know.

The light fell in narrow shafts into a half full dormitory – Spartan but comfortable nonetheless – upon a young man who also dreamed of the past, of walking along beaches and dancing in the starlight and a girl in the house across the street from his. The light didn't quite manage to fall on the other, larger young man, who dreamed of crying, the endless and insistent crying of a lost little child. In his dream, he called out to her through the darkness but couldn't find her. He tried asking her where she was, but all she could repeat, over and over again was 'my Daddy. Where's my Daddy? I want my Daddy!'

And then there was noise. Music. Slowly growing in volume, and unstopping and sad. It invaded the dreams of the sleepers and one by one the all awoke as the realisation hit them – the music wasn't of the Realm. It was music from their own world.

Hank and Bobby nearly ran straight into Sheila in a marble corridor.

'Do you hear that?' blurted all three in unison.

'It's coming from upstairs,' added Hank.

They sprinted up the stairs together, following the Ranger's ear, and slid to a stop outside a small door in an underused and unkempt hallway. Eric and Diana were already there, trying the handle. Diana had hastily thrown on her furs, forgetting her gold bands, although a single bead on a thin strip of red fabric hung around her throat. Eric had managed to get into his chainmail leggings, if nothing else. A large bandage covered most of his torso, however, from belt line up to just under his arms.

'Locked,' muttered the Acrobat. She cast a swift glance up to the others and added a low 'Hey, guys.'

'What is it?' Hank tried the handle himself, causing Diana to jerk her hand away defensively.

'A portal?' added Bobby, hopefully.

'Nah,' sighed Eric. 'Presto's in there.'

'Presto?' asked Sheila. 'How can you tell?'

Eric shrugged. 'Listen for yourself.'

Sheila put an ear to the door and listened. Just audible beneath the music was a familiar soft snuffling. She drew her ear away, resting her forehead on the door. 'He's crying in there.'

'But the music…' insisted Bobby.

'You guys know how powerful he is,' replied Eric. 'I guess he must just be making it, or channelling it, or… or something…'

Hank crossed his arms. 'Eric, are you telling me that Presto is channelling Radiohead?'

'No need to make it sound so stupid, Hank…' began the Cavalier.

'I mean,' added Hank, 'they're not even dead…'

Eric opened his mouth briefly to make a sarcastic comeback but changed his mind. He addressed the O'Brien siblings instead. 'Did anybody see him talking to a girl last night? Whenever he locks himself in a dark room and plays sad songs there's usually a girl involved.'

Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Eric, we're on a floating palace full of women. You can't ask the way to the bathroom without talking to a girl.'

'Exactly!' added Eric. 'Maybe there was a particular girl that he…'

'We spent all night on the sea bed fighting Mermaids,' said Sheila, 'we wouldn't know.'

Diana blinked at her. 'Mermaids?'

Sheila smiled at her friend. 'Yep. Good to see you came back by the way.'

Diana shrugged. 'Feh. The food was better here.'

'Came back from where?' frowned Bobby. 'What did I miss?'

The music stopped abruptly. They stared at the door for a moment, but before anybody could speak there was a distant cry from the courtyard beyond. The group looked at one another and, as a whole, gave a world weary sigh.

'Sounds like…' muttered Diana.

'Yeah,' sighed Sheila.

'I guess we should…' began Hank.

'Guess so,' added Bobby.

Eric just tutted.

Sheila knocked softly on the door. 'Presto? We're gonna go to the courtyard and see what that was. You coming?'

The music started up again.

Eric rolled his eyes as he turned and began a painful half jog towards the stairway. 'Fine. Be that way.'

-x-

They entered the courtyard to see a stand-off. Scores of guards stood tensely, their spears and arrows aimed upwards. Some six feet above the ground hovered the distinctive figure of their former arch-enemy. Beneath him, Janapurna was hysterical with rage.

'For the last time, foul being, begone! You are unwelcome here, you pollute the White Palace with your presence!'

Hank caught a glance of Venger's expression and bit down a smirk. He looked worried. Worried and a little frightened. His hands were out in front of himself, defensively, and it was obviously a struggle for his wings to remain hanging stationary in one spot, neither flying nor dropping. He was like a trapped animal. It was a wonderful image, after all the times it had been Hank, and his friends running scared, or trapped and helpless. Venger had obviously come to speak with them, but a thick cruel streak in him wanted to hide amongst the crowd, and watch Venger sweat. Unfortunately, there were members of the gang far fairer minded and well tempered than he was.

'It's Venger!' The gasp was, of course, from Sheila. 'He'll have news for us.'

Janapurna gazed at Sheila in amazement, then up at Venger again.

'If Sheila says you may speak, then you may speak,' spat Janapurna at the apologetic, hovering creature. 'But be quick, and don't you dare set foot on the Palace. It will not allow you to contaminate it, and neither will I.'

'You shouldn't be able to just turn up like that,' yelled Eric up at Venger, furiously. 'Why the Hell is my Early Warning System on the fritz?'

Venger turned to the scowling Cavalier. 'Your scar? I removed the spell, it is only a wound of the flesh now. It will no longer react to me.'

'Augh, Godammit,' growled Eric, 'this damn world just gets better and better…'

'Hey.' Diana squeezed Eric's hand. 'It's OK, you don't need a giant evil burn. You got a big hole in your intestines now…'

'You know,' interrupted Hank, loudly, 'what with the angry mob pointing their weapons at Big V, don't you think it'd be better to leave the small talk with him for some other time?'

The others fell quiet at looked at Hank. Hank flitted his eyes from the patient expectation on Bobby and Sheila's faces to the frosty cynicism on Eric and Diana's, and back up to Venger.

'Well?' he asked Venger.

Venger met the Ranger's gaze. 'The Sea Nymphs have The Truth.'

'Care to tell us something we don't know?' interjected Bobby.

'They are taking it to Furnus…'

'Again,' said Hank, 'we kinda guessed that already.'

Venger paused, and cleared his throat. 'They appear to be taking it to Gudrun's Cave. Furnus still has a portal there. Once the palace has picked up speed from turning it will be able to take you across the sea and upriver without increasing the distance between yourselves and the Sea Nymphs.'

'How are we supposed to catch up with them?' asked Sheila.

'They must travel across many miles of swampland to reach Gudrun's Cave from the river,' replied Venger. 'They are famously arrogant and will not entrust delivering The Truth to Furnus to any creatures of the land which could cross the swamp faster, and due to the landscape they cannot light any fires to summon her faster.'

'Swampland's not exactly easy for us to cross either,' added Bobby.

'You will be swifter than them,' replied Venger.

'Yeah, but will we be swifter enough?' quipped Eric, pausing to pull a face at his own use of grammar.

'That is up to you,' sighed Venger.

An uncomfortable silence fell, broken only by the slow clop of hooves on stone. The unicorn ambled around the back of the crowd, regarding Venger flatly. Hank tried his best not to engage with Uni as she clopped past, but still felt her dirty look burn into the back of his neck. Yet another mistake he'd never be able to live down. He was really notching 'em up, wasn't he? Hank ignored the unicorn and concentrated on Venger again.

'Anything else?'

'The Wizard,' muttered Venger, 'Presto…?'

'Sulking,' replied Eric. 'Why?'

'I see.' Venger nodded to himself, sadly. 'I bring ill news.'

'Because you've been nothin' but a chucklefest 'til now…'

'The Illusionist Varla,' sighed Venger, 'took her own life last night.'

'Oh God.' Sheila put her hand to her mouth. 'Poor Presto. You… think he knows?'

'Of course he knows,' replied Eric. 'He sees so much that we've got no idea about these day. That's what's been eating him. Damn it, I shoulda thought…'

-x-

Presto replaced his glasses, bringing his vision out of the courtyard and back into the tiny room he had locked himself into. So now they all knew. Perhaps they'd let him be for a while. They could probably get another day's rest in before they had to disembark the White Palace. Maybe that would be long enough for him to get his mind in order again.

Of course it wouldn't.

Varla.

He shuddered with fresh tears. He'd been separated from her so many times, losing her to Furnus had been agony but he'd always clung to that hope that it still wasn't final, she may possibly change her mind and join with them. But this was the end. It was over. There was no bringing her back… was there?

Or was there?

That word began to flutter around his head again like a moth. Necromancy.

'No.' He pushed the palms of his hands hard against his eyes, forcing out the word. No, not that. Once you were dead you were dead you were dead you were dead. He wasn't going to start fiddling with those rules. They were too old, too deep, like the foundations of a building. Whitewood always left them well alone.

Whitewood.

Presto hugged himself, remembering that first poor soul they'd had to bury, and felt very small and alone again. How he wished the Old Man was still with them.

Necroman… 'No!'

How he wished he was still just a stupid Magician with a mischievious hat. How he wished he could go back to just barely being able to see his hand in front of his face, instead of what he could see now… distant landscapes, empty and lifeless, innermost thoughts and feelings, crackling with violent energy, with tenderness and fury. Kosar was bright in his mind's eye after the previous night, shining with outrage. Presto wondered if Eric and Diana were fully aware of what an enemy they'd managed to make for themselves. There was a trail of fire leading away from Kosar, leading somewhere hidden. To Furnus, he had no doubt. Zinn still flickered around, and although Shadow Demon was good at skulking in corners, Presto could smell his malice out there somewhere. There were other dangers out there, too. The Truth still tried to pull his gaze into its whirlpool. That was very worrying. It knew something important that he didn't. Presto contemplated this. Venger knew better than to keep anything from him… didn't he? Eric, too. He could trust Eric, he was sure, after all they'd been through together. But then, he'd been through so much with the others too, and the others were kinda… fuzzy in parts. Uni had proved herself to be an expert in deception. She'd done very well to hide the fact that she could speak from him, and still refused to speak a word of English even to her beloved Barbarian. She hadn't mentioned her troubled dreams to Presto at all. Perhaps she knew that he could see them anyway. The nightmares had been terrible, but they were shadows of the past – the tree and the egg concerned him deeply. He couldn't see where they had come from, or where they were leading to.

He couldn't decipher all of the anger in Diana, either. It wasn't just over Kosar, he knew that now. So what was it? Something awful. Some thrashing creature that she kept locked away somewhere deep, deep within her.

Bobby at least was open to Presto. There was no way the Barbarian could know why he kept dreaming of a crying child. Presto tried not to think of how he would react if he did discover that truth. It wouldn't be terribly long now until that child would be out in the Realm, crying for real. It had been a snap decision to keep that baby's parentage a secret, even from Bobby himself. Presto couldn't imagine the danger the child would be put in if anyone knew it was fathered by one of The Seven, or the disruption it would cause the teenaged Barbarian if he knew. Still, it was a dangerous secret to keep, with The Truth out there.

Presto forced himself to stop mulling over Bobby and found his mind moving to Sheila. Sheila. Lovely, open, sweet little Sheila. She had no skeletons in her closet, everything was brightly lit in her mind – her guilt over the deaths she'd caused, her concern for her brother and friends, her worry for him, bless her good, pure heart… her love for Hank. Her eternal, unending love for him, embedded in her soul, plain and simple and unmovable. In spite of the hurt he'd caused her, she still loved him. She always, always would.

And Hank loved her, too. It was a more restless love than hers, but it was powerful. She was a well rooted tree, he was a wind that whistled around her boughs, shaking her leaves. And Presto wasn't a part of that. He never would be. He couldn't even catch hold of that rushing wind, not properly. Hank was the most intangible of the whole group – his mind was always zooming somewhere unexpected. Sometimes it stopped in a place that Presto remembered fondly – a golden, open place, and every time Presto hoped that Hank would linger there for a while longer, and experience the warmth of his younger years a little more. But Hank would never stay. The wind would howl angrily and whip around dark, dangerous corners. There were hidden things there. Terrible things that Presto couldn't see.

But The Truth saw.

The Truth! The Truth! Trying to pull him in, always, always, and now the dark corners of Hank and Diana, and the crying child, and the silver tree swirled around it and inside and out was fire, fire, fire, and a shape. A shape… wings of fire…

'But we destroyed you…'

A black visor and wings of fire… destroyed… the spell had been destroyed… the Black Knight could never exist.

The Knight opened his eyes, and in his eyes was The Truth…

There was a knocking on the door. 'Presto?'

Presto started awake. He had fallen asleep. How had he fallen asleep? How long had it been?

'Janapurna…?' he muttered.

'We'll be at the swamps in about an hour,' replied Janapurna through the door. 'I thought I'd wake you now. Give you time to have something to eat and collect yourself.'

Presto sat up, groggily. They were only an hour away? He must have slept all day. Stiffly, he got to his feet and opened the door. Janapurna met him with a soft smile. He blinked in the dim light.

'It's evening?'

'You were exhausted,' replied Janapurna. She took his arm and began to lead him down the darkened corridor. 'Poor Presto. I… I heard what happened. To Varla.'

Presto nodded.

'I'm so very sorry,' sighed Janapurna.

Presto watched his feet as he walked. 'Where are the others?'

'Resting.' Janapurna smiled, strangely. 'Orders of a certain Ex-Nemesis of yours.'

Despite himself, Presto found himself smiling too. 'Bet they took that well.'

'There was some unnecessary language,' conceded Janapurna, 'but they did as they were told eventually.'

-x-

There was a respectful knocking at three different doors.

Beyond the first, in the salvaged stables, a unicorn and the teenager who had been nestled with her looked up from their sleep gratefully, as though both had been freed from troubled dreams.

Beyond the second, in a large bedroom suite, there was cursing as a couple disentangled themselves hurriedly.

Beyond the third, in a dormitory, another man and woman looked up from their separate beds in irritation.

'Man,' growled Hank, 'it can't be time to get up already, can it?'

Sheila glanced up at a small window. 'It's nearly dark already! Have we really been talking all day?'

Hank scratched his head, sleepily. 'Guess so. Just like the old days, huh. The really old days.'

'Hank, don't…'

'Remember that night when we'd just started dating? We lay in bed and just talked and talked 'til morning.' Hank laughed. 'Your parent's face when they caught me sneaking downstairs only the day after I'd asked you out. God knows what they must've thought…'

'I remember, Hank.' She smiled a sad smile. 'Happy days, huh?'

'Happy days.' Hank paused, tentatively. 'What's going on here, Red?'

Sheila sat up in her bed. 'We aughta get up.' She began the long process of pulling on her boots.

'Hank sighed. 'Sure.'

-x-

'Well,' said Eric, 'here we are again.'

'The seven of us,' added Bobby, shaking something unspeakable from a boot, 'trudging through a swamp…'

'…in the middle of the night…' chipped in Sheila.

'Freezing cold with no idea where we're going,' continued Diana, starting to warm to the game.

'It's all so…' began Eric, and then struggled to think of the right adjective.

'…Retro?' suggested Hank.

'Terribly Last Decade' agreed Bobby.

Presto came to yet another unsure halt, as he had been doing all night. 'Guys? Do you mind? I'm kinda trying to concentrate.'

'Sorry, Presto,' replied Sheila.

'You OK, Dude?'

Presto didn't return the concerned Cavalier's gaze, but squeezed his eyes beneath his glasses. 'I'm a little tired, that's all. It's tough staying orientated.'

'Yeah,' added Hank, 'we're veering off course a bit.' He blinked as all eyes turned to him. 'Only a bit,' he continued, 'Really, you're doing a great job, Presto.'

'We're not off course.'

'We need to head North by North-East, right?'

'Presto knows where he's going, Hank,' interrupted Diana.

'North by North-East,' replied Presto, wearily, 'that's right.'

Hank pointed up towards the sky. Apart from the moons, there was only one heavenly body visible through the foliage above – a bright star. 'See that star? It's always, always due East at this time of night. And we're facing too close to it right now. We need to go more in a Northwards direction. We're only a few degrees out, nothing to beat yourself up over.'

Presto squinted up at the star. 'You're right.'

Hank shrugged. 'No need to look so surprised. I'm a Ranger. It's sorta what I do.'

'All right, Man!' Beamed Bobby.

Hank briefly glanced around the group. Bobby couldn't have looked prouder and, more importantly, neither could Sheila. He delighted at feeling that old swell of joy that he used to get whenever she looked at him like that. There was an odd smile on Presto's lips, as if he was slowly recognising a long lost memory. There was even a grudging respect on the faces of the Cavalier and the Unicorn. Only Diana refused to acknowledge him and frowned down at her feet.

'Northwards Ho,' muttered Presto. He turned in the new direction and took the lead once more as the group trudged ever closer towards The Truth.