Chapter Two: Many Unhappy Returns

The world came back into focus, and Bobby squeezed his eyes shut. The sunlight on his face was warm, even pleasant, but unbearably bright. He could feel the rough ground underneath him. Every muscle of his body ached, and his head felt like someone had been using it for a battering ram.

"Bobby? Can you hear me?" Terri was shaking him gently. Her voice was desperate, afraid. He opened his eyes slowly, and groaned.

He was wearing leggings, boots tied crisscrossed with straps, and a vest. They were made from hides of animals, roughly cut and sewn, but comfortable. Terri's satin nightgown had been replaced with knee high leather boots and leggings tailored from supple leather, and an elegant white blouse with long loose sleeves.

They were sitting on a plain of rough sandy brown rock, that had been shattered into jumble of ravines and smaller defiles. The earth was too harsh for anything to grow, and was littered with scree that had fallen down a wall of rock a few feet away. What breeze there was, it was dry, devoid of everything; except what little dust was ground from the rocks. In the distance, he could see massive boulders suspended in midair, as if a giant hand had torn them from the earth, and cast them into the sky, where they remained suspended hundreds of feet overhead, openly defying gravity and common sense. Four suns shone brightly in a sky of perfect blue.

The Realm.

"I'm all right," he told her, groaning again as he demanded his body to sit up, in spite of the protests of his back.

"Anna? Where is Anna?" she demanded.

Their daughter was nowhere to be seen. The vortex hadn't wanted their child, just him. Terri had been pulled in with him.

"She'll be all right," he told Terri, taking her hand, "She's still at home."

"ALL RIGHT? Anna is only nine! She's alone!"

"I know." He was frightened too, but tried to keep it out of his voice. "But the last time we were here, only a day passed at home."

"A day?", she said acidly, "Our daughter is alone, Robert! I remember what you told me! We aren't even sure if we can get back to her!"

Terri never used his full name unless she was furious. The venom she had in her voice, and sheer anger in her eyes made him flinch. He'd never seen her quite like this. Not even on their worst days. As if... As if this was all his fault.

He was frightened more than he let her know. He didn't need to mention that it had taken five years to get home last time. This world had brought them together. It was the only thing this world had done for him that he was grateful for. Last time, this place had cost him dearly: first, his childhood, and then his beloved sister. Heavens be damned if it was going to cost him his family again.

He knew this place. Years ago, he, his sister, and their friends had fled from the dragon, Tiamat. They had climbed up the rock wall only a few feet away from where he sat now, only to encounter Venger as he struggled with the Dragon Queen. Then they met the Dungeon Master face to face, on that first terrible day.

Unbidden, and unwanted, the memory of the Dungeon Master's first words came back to him. Fear not! Ranger, Barbarian, Magician, Thief, Cavalier, and Acrobat!

Damn it all! Damn it to HELL! His rage exploded.

"WHERE ARE YOU?!" he roared.

Terri jumped in surprise, as he howled at the open air. Bobby's demand echoed off of the rocks, unanswered. The Dungeon Master didn't appear.

"WHY? WHY DIDN'T YOU WARN US? YOU ALWAYS DID BEFORE! MY SISTER IS DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!"

His anger surprised even him, and his voice cracked with grief. It welled up like an endless ocean, threatening to drown him all over again. His voice lowered to a plea. "Why?"

Terri was staring over his shoulder. He leapt to his feet and spun quickly, balling up his fists. Someone was behind him.

His black hair was cut the same as Bobby remembered. Time seemed to have passed over him, changing him only in small ways. He was dressed in his old armor, sized to fit, but his shield was missing. The expression on his face was perpetually one of mild annoyance, as if every mishap in life was an attempt to inconvenience him personally in whatever fashion he saw fit to name. Eric.

His companion was a tall slender woman, wearing nothing more than a fur bikini and boots. Her skin was a warm, rich dark brown. She had the shape and form of an athlete, and moved with an easy grace. Her brown eyes were kind, but stern, a perfect match for her expression of icy calm. He recognized her instantly, even though he hadn't seen or spoken to her in years. Not since she left their hometown. Diana smiled.

"Look at you," she said brightly, but her eyes were full of sorrow. No doubt, she had heard his outburst. She gave him a hug. "All grown up." She turned her glance to Terri, her expression puzzled for only a moment, before a look of recognition caused her to smile. She embraced Terri as well. "Hello, Terri. It's good to finally see you both, but I'd rather hoped it wouldn't be here, of all places."

When they first met, she had left the impression of being cold, and unfriendly. Little brothers seldom like their sister's friends, he mused. It had taken Bobby a long time to like her at all. She had never allowed her feelings to show, and deliberately kept her emotional distance. Although Sheila had been her friend for years before they ever came here, he had never understood why Sheila liked her. They had been polar opposites in almost every way. Their time in the Realm had changed his opinion of her greatly. For five years, his sister's presence and their dependence on each other had softened her bit by bit. He was glad to see that Diana hadn't lost that in the time since.

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in," Eric said in a tone dripping with sarcasm. Then he grinned, extending a hand. "What has it been, at least five years?" He looked decidedly uncomfortable. He was trying to gloss over Bobby's rage as quickly as could be managed, and not aggravate him further.

He was actually trying to be considerate?

"Yeah, it has, Eric."

Eric shrugged. "It seems to me we have bigger problems at the moment," he said, "We are back in 'Wackyland'. If you hadn't been...shouting," Eric paused, "We never would have found you. You can be heard for quite the distance. Your voice still carries."

"I'll say," someone added. They all turned to the newcomer. He was tall and muscular, with blond hair, dressed in studded leather and green hose. He looked exhausted.

"Hank!" they all said at once.

They all told similar stories. Diana had just returned home from a training session with her newest Olympic protégé, when the vortex had appeared from nowhere. Eric had been flying home on his private jet when he was snatched away at ten thousand feet. Hank had finally gotten some time off from fighting fires, and was spending it at a quiet cabin on the lake.

As near as they could tell, they were all taken at precisely the same time, on the same day. They had arrived here only a few minutes before they heard him shouting. No one had their magical weapons with them.

"Well, there is no point in standing around here. We are in the middle of nowhere, with no supplies, or weapons. If Dungeon Master wants to find us, I don't think he will have any trouble," Hank said quickly.

Bobby kept his expression neutral at the mention of their former guide. Hank stooped down examining the shadow of a rock. After a moment, he seemed satisfied, picked a direction, and started walking. The others shrugged, and fell in behind him. There was nothing else they could do.

"Gee, this is familiar," Eric quipped, waving an arm negligently at Hank's back. "He leads and we follow, off into insanity."

Bobby was surprised how fast they fell back into an old familiar pattern. A small part of him was glad to see his friends again, even here, but it only made the absence of Presto and the loss of his sister all the more acute. Focusing on his wife, he pushed the pain from his mind by reminding himself that she needed him.

They spent most of the day headed north, or what Hank admitted, was what he thought was north. "With four suns, it's impossible to be sure," he commented.

"Why north?" Eric asked.

"Because that's the way we went last time we were here."

After the first hour had passed, Eric was complaining constantly, muttering under his breath. Diana rolled her eyes, and glanced over at Bobby, as if to say, 'Some things never change.'

"Why don't we wait until near dark to walk, instead of during the day?" Eric grumbled, starting on a fresh topic, "It's hot out here, Hank."

"It's not that hot, Eric. You've spent too many years in an air conditioned office. This isn't the Sahara. Besides," Hank's tone became pointed, "We don't even have a thing we can use as a torch. I don't think you want to stumble around in the dark and fall over the edge of a ravine. If you care to try, be my guest. Maybe you'll only break a leg."

Diana grinned. "Hopefully, not that thick head."

Eric grimaced at her, and fell silent. They trudged on, and Bobby's mind began to wander.

They had always assumed that when they returned home that they would stick together. After they returned, they soon found excuses not to gather, but Bobby knew the truth. Presto's absence was a great blow to them. They all missed his jokes, and blundering attempts at magic tricks, but it was Sheila's death that literally had torn the heart out of their group.

She was the one who knew everyone, who settled disputes, cheered everyone up, and who kept them together. Hank was her boyfriend. Diana was her best friend. Presto was the nerd, orphan, and social outcast she "adopted". When she had taken Presto into their group, she automatically included his friend, Eric. When Bobby was finally old enough to tag along, he was even included as well, but without the rancor of an older sister forced to watch her little brother. Her absence had only reminded each other of what getting home had cost them. He knew Sheila had privately resented the fact that the others went out of their way to protect her, but he wondered if his sister had known how much she had meant to each of them, how necessary her presence had always been.

Even gone, it was Sheila who had brought them all together for what Bobby assumed then would be the last time. When she was at last declared legally dead, instead of simply missing, they gathered at a small memorial service. Everyone felt the same. Sheila wasn't there, regardless of the small granite headstone engraved with a rose and bearing the name "Sheila Elisabeth Rowen". No one said it, but he knew. None of them could truly say goodbye. He hadn't seen them all together since.

By that time, life's demands and the price of dreams had scattered them to the wind. Bobby later became a lawyer, and married Terri, who taught special education. They had moved to the city. He had heard from the others occasionally: a note here, a phone call there, sometimes a card on the holidays. What was left of their close friendships had faded.

Hank tried a number of things, and eventually became a firefighter. Diana had followed her dream to the Olympics. She took the gold, and then retired to train the next generation. Eric had tried very hard to be free of his family's shadow, but in the end, had taken over running his father's company.

Ironically, it was only Eric, the one who Bobby had liked the least, who attended his wedding, and was the only one who even tried to keep in touch. Even so, he hadn't seen Eric in person for years.

It stuck him then, that each of them had been perfectly suited to the roles the Dungeon Master had given them all those years ago. Perhaps better at them then their own "real" lives. Hank knew how to use a bow with amazing accuracy, and could survive off the land better than any of them. He was a "ranger", literally. Eric complained a lot, but when it really mattered, when push came to shove, he had courage, as a "cavalier" - taking charge during the times that Hank had been absent. Diana was an "acrobat", in the every sense of the word. Presto had lived and breathed magic, and if the last time Bobby saw him was a fair guess, he was a true "magician".

He had to admit that being a called a "barbarian" suited him. Finesse wasn't a strong suit of his, leading to the comment many times over that his being a "lawyer" was a ridiculous contradiction. Although he had learned some patience over the years, his temper still got him into trouble, and he was always charging off recklessly to save someone or something without thinking twice. Ironically, that is what made him move from the city to a sleepy town. He was so busy trying to save the world, he wasn't spending enough time with Terri and Anna.

Sheila was the only one that never seemed to fit the role she had been given. Almost immediately, he regretted the thought, but it was true. The Sheila he remembered had been too honest, too gentle, and by far, too caring, to be a "thief".

She had never stolen anything.

Beyond christening her with the name "Thief" when he gave her her Cloak, Dungeon Master had never called her "Thief" again - ever. He had always called the others, including Bobby himself, by their assumed titles. Only once, he called Diana by name, just after her love Kosar had died, to comfort her loss. Then he realized, that not only had Dungeon Master, but even Venger had always referred to his sister exclusively by her true name. He wondered why.

Strange. He had never remembered or even noticed that fact until now.

Terri had never been one of the Dungeon Master's pupils, but she was here now. She had been here in the Realm once before, when they had first met. She had been pulled in through the Dungeons and Dragons ride, the same as they all had. But things was different then. She hadn't been "costumed" as he, Sheila, and his friends had been. She had arrived that first time, wearing the very same jeans and blouse she had worn back home. Ironically, they had gotten her home a few scant days later. Fate or whatever being had brought her here then had never intended her to stay. But in those few days, Bobby had fallen in love with her, and had been every day of his life since. Obviously, this time something had changed, and she was now included in their group. He swallowed.

Because she had married him? Because she had replaced Sheila?

She was still upset. He grasped her hand and held it.

They continued walking without incident until almost sunset, when they decided to wait out the night beside a rock outcropping. Whether it was because he was lost in thought and missed something important, whether they were tired, or they had grown careless since they were last in the Realm, Bobby never knew. But they didn't spot anyone or see the men coming before they were surrounded.

There were at least ten of them. The men simply appeared out of the twilight, fully armed with swords and crossbows, wearing light chainmail shirts that had been sewn to the layers of worn and slashed padding that had been used to muffle the noise. Their faces were hidden in deep hooded cloaks, but their weapons conveyed their intentions clearly.

Bobby and the others were captives.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Hank demanded.

They didn't answer, but simply stood their ground, well out of reach. Finally, one of them reached into a pouch at his belt, and drew out a small glass-like sphere. He held up one hand, gesturing to wait, moving slowly as not to alarm them further. He cupped it in his hands, and blew on it softly. It began to glow, increasing in brightness until they had to squint away from its light. He placed it in one palm, and then reached with the other to pull back his hood.

"Presto!" Diana exclaimed both in joy and relief.

"No." he said stated flatly. "My name is Duncan Preston." His voice was deeper, more graveled than the friend they remembered. "Presto was my grandfather's father."

They stared back at him, trying to comprehend his statement. Although he had Presto's lanky frame, he wasn't their friend. They could see their friend's face in his features, but his were harsher, more defined, even gaunt. His blue eyes were cold as ice, and his expression was bitter. This man was younger than they, perhaps twenty five, but had lived a hard life. There was a long, badly healed scar under his left eye that ran the length of his face down to his jawline. His hair was a deep red, and unlike Presto's unruly brown, his was cropped short. When he smiled at them, it looked forced, as if he were more accustomed to grimacing at what life offered him.

"I know who you are. Your arrival has been expected," he said again in the same flat tone. "You will not be harmed tonight, unless, of course, you try to harm us." He motioned to his companions, and they lowered their weapons.

How much time had passed here in the Realm?

Bobby was still trying to stomach Duncan's first comments when Eric piped up.

"Yeah? Who is expecting us?" Eric demanded sanctimoniously.

"Dungeon Master," he said. His cold stare bored right into Eric. The Cavalier involuntarily backed away a step.

"Dungeon Master can just 'pop in' when and where he likes. Why didn't he come himself?" Diana asked quietly.

"He cannot," he said, turning his gaze to Diana. The ice in his eyes melted a little, and he looked away. "He is dying."

There was a long pause. Hank finally spoke.

"Are you going to take us to him?" Hank asked, his voice as completely empty of feeling as Duncan's own. Duncan's expression seemed to approve as he gazed at the tall Ranger.

"No," he answered. "But I will take you to meet someone who can, his last student." His tone made it clear, that it wasn't a choice. "Rest now. We leave at first light."


Duncan led the way with three of his men while the others were spread out to the sides and rear. Bobby and his friends discussed the situation while they traveled, but none of them had any ideas. Their "escorts" were unwilling to add anything, and remained silent.

The few responses they managed from Duncan's men were stilted and heavily accented, as if they were unused to speaking or the words were unfamiliar. If at all possible, they deferred any questions to Duncan at the first opportunity that presented itself. When they did answer directly, they said only what was required, nothing more, regardless of how much they were prompted.

They weren't rude. They went to great lengths, treating Bobby and his friends with exaggerated courtesy, as if they were guests. It was obvious that they weren't speaking their own language. On the rare occasion that they spoke among themselves, their speech was familiar, but Bobby couldn't place it.

Neither Duncan or his men ever seemed to sleep much at all. There were constantly alert, as if they were expecting trouble. Five of them were always awake at any one time, and all of them were constantly watching their surroundings. Duncan himself said nothing to alarm Bobby or the others. He never gave any indication that there was an actual threat. His demeanor remained completely indifferent to his men's fear.

After the first few days, Bobby wrote them off as being paranoid, but the tension had already began to wear on everyone's nerves.

The entire time that they traveled, Bobby felt like he and the others were being studied by Duncan. He found the experience unpleasant. Something about him just didn't feel right. The man wasn't hostile, but he wasn't friendly either. During the journey, he only had one real conversation with them. He approached Bobby one night after they had settled in.

"Is it true that you used to carry a magical club that could shatter the ground?" he asked abruptly.

Bobby considered not answering him, but leaving the question in silence. Bobby's initial reaction to Duncan had been one of trust, because of Presto, but his dislike of the man's attitude overcame any leniency at seeing his childhood friend in Duncan's battered face. Any trust he might have had quickly vanished with the man's apparent unconcern.

"Yes," Bobby said finally. Duncan seemed to take his response as an invitation to continue.

"So they were not just spinning a tales. I have often wondered how much was true, and what was falsehood," he said.

Bobby decided to take the opening. "Why are are they so nervous?"

Duncan shrugged. "The terrain reminds them of their homeland, Kadish. The wastes of Kadish are very hostile, and only those who remain alert live for very long. They keep expecting threats from creatures that aren't there."

Kadish. Now he knew why their language sounded familiar. Rahmoud. He had been a wanderer from Kadish who had sheltered them for several days after Sheila and the others had rescued Bobby and Rahmoud's daughter, Ayisha, from the realm of the Nightwalker.

Bobby shuddered. Everywhere he went in this world, someone was determined to bring back memories he would rather leave buried in the past. Still, the days they spent in Rahmoud's company had been one of the few pleasant times he could remember.

"You're Presto's great-grandson?"

"Yes," Duncan answered. He seemed to tell that Bobby was not satisfied with that. "My family is dead."

At that, Bobby looked up. Duncan noticed, and his next question was pointed.

"Yours as well?" he asked.

"The only ones left are my wife and daughter." Duncan glanced at Terri, and Bobby nodded. "Who told you these stories anyway? Presto?"

"No. Presto left us after the death of his wife, Varla, long before I was born," Duncan said. A touch of anger crept into his voice. "We never saw him again."

"Why?"

"No one knows for sure. If you find him, you can ask him," he said sourly. "Perhaps you do not know, but you and the others are the most famous of the Dungeon Master's students. Bards have been singing your stories for over one hundred years," he said.

Over one hundred years? Damn!

"Have you ever met Dungeon Master's student?" Terri asked quickly in a small voice. Her question was so unexpected that even their guide was taken aback for a moment, and Bobby had to keep a smirk off his face.

Duncan looked at Terri, and his expression became unreadable. "In a way. Many years ago, when I was a boy, she would visit my parents from time to time."

"What was she like?"

"I don't know," he said quietly. Duncan shrugged at Terri's puzzlement. "I never knew her name or saw her face. She would always come at night. She was never welcome in our home, and when she came, I was promptly sent elsewhere, well out of earshot. I was never allowed to speak with her."

"Where are you taking us?" Hank demanded.

"I told you already," Duncan answered patiently.

"No, you told us why, not where."

"The valley of Morivan."

Hank shook his head.

"I did not think an answer would do you any good, and I was right. I am simply doing what was asked of me. If you do not want to go there, then go."

He stood aside. Hank hesitated. Bobby could see the reason. There was a dangerous look in Duncan's eyes, as if he was daring Hank to try to walk away. The consequences would be unpleasant. The two locked eyes for a moment, and then to Bobby's surprise, Hank backed down.

"You understand. This will probably be your only chance to find her. We both know that you have no choice. I do not care if you trust me or not. I told you would not be harmed. I give you my oath - on the graves of my family, Ranger. For their memory's sake, you and your friends have nothing to fear from me while we are on this journey."

Hank nodded and walked away without another word. Bobby then had the distinct impression that Duncan had been fishing. But for what?

Nine days after they had arrived in the Realm, they had left the wasteland behind, descending down into a series of fertile valleys. The lush green was a welcome change from bare rock, and a small creek allowed them to wash off their journey. That evening, Duncan told them that they would reach their destination sometime tomorrow before noon.

He and Terri had stood on the stairs leading up to the portal. At the very edge of the portal, Bobby stopped. The others kept Venger distracted.

"We have to wait for the others!" she shouted.

"You're going home, Terri. We're not. We've gotta stop this place from trapping anyone else."

Her face was stricken, her blue eyes were staring at him.

"I'm not going without you!" she cried tearfully. She meant it.

"Sorry, Terri," he said, his own voice breaking.

Terri nudged him awake. He gazed up at his wife, and smiled. How he loved her! She normally kept her long dark hair bound, but now it was free to fall about her shoulders. It framed her lovely face, accentuating her high cheekbones, and drawing even more attention to her startlingly bright blue eyes. Her soft lips were compressed in an expression of concern.

"Just a dream," he said. He reached forward and kissed her.

"I love you," she whispered in return. She smiled then, but it did nothing to banish the weariness and the worry that now constantly clouded her face.

They were exhausted. Duncan had quickened his pace the last few days, and pushed them unmercifully to get here. When asked why, rather than his typically cold response, he actually sounded annoyed.

"If we don't arrive on time, everyone will leave," he answered cryptically. He didn't say who "everyone" was, and it was the first and only mention he ever made about a schedule.

By morning the next day, they had arrived at a valley that was a deep, almost perfectly round bowl with mixture of oak, birch, and evergreens blanketing the slopes. In the center of the valley, the ruins of stone buildings in a clearing were clearly visible from their higher position.

"There," Duncan said, pointing directly at the ruins. "We can find his last student there."

He turned, then spoke to the others in their own language. One of them nodded, and within moments they vanished silently into the trees. Hank raised an eyebrow.

"The others are not...invited. We should reach the ruins just after noon if you do not waste more time." Without waiting for a response, he started down the slope.

It took them until after noon to reach the ruins, as Duncan had predicted. The valley walls were steep, and they had to slow their pace to avoid injury by tripping on the steep incline or the heavily interwoven tree roots that were everywhere. The entire time, they felt as if they were being watched, but no one appeared or challenged their progress.

Duncan lead them through the ruins. Bobby shuddered. The ruins were made from different stone, but the remains of the buildings were hauntingly familiar. Somehow, Bobby was sure of it. Whoever had built this place had left other ruins that had haunted his nightmares for the last twenty five years.

What was left had been masoned from white stone. The crumbling walls gave the impression of worn bones jutting from the earth, and although the day was sunny and warm, the air felt oppressive, even chilled. It felt as if the walls had eyes and watched their every move. Something did not want them here, and was actively angered at their presence. This place was a tomb. It belonged to the dust and the memories of the dead. They were not welcome, merely tolerated for the moment, and only while the suns held sway in the sky above.

They continued in the silence they had become accustomed to during the journey, until they reached a central building that was somehow still intact.

"This place has been neutral ground for centuries. Magic is said to have destroyed the settlement here, leaving only this one building. It is inadvisable to use magic or weapons here. The beings that dwell in this valley do not like either, and will kill anyone who disturbs them. His student will be here soon. If you want to find her, you must go in and wait with the others," he said, "Remember, all who enter are under a guarantee of truce. Anyone who breaks that truce, and disturbs them, that life is forfeit."

Duncan entered without hesitation.

After Hank glanced at Bobby and the others, they all nodded. There was nothing to do now, but go in.


The silence was broken the moment they crossed the threshold. Where it had been utterly quiet and dark one instant, the moment they stepped inside, they were assaulted with warm torchlight, and a cacophony of voices, all speaking at once.

Eric let his eyes adjust to the light. The interior was simply one large room. There were benches carved from the same stone as the building itself, placed at intervals around the perimeter of the rectangular room. Sconces for the torches were similarly placed to conveniently light the entire area. In the center of the room there were four supporting columns surrounding a raised dais in the center.

The room was full of people. The crowd was a madcap profusion of different people of all colors, sizes, shapes, and modes of dress. Many were covered in the finest satins and silks. Others were in dressed simply in dyed linen. All of them were uneasy.

Some sat quietly, carefully examining the appearance of Bobby and his friends with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. Most ignored them completely, continuing on with their own conversations. Some were easy to understand, but others were conducted in a dozen languages none of them knew. It never lessened below a roar. The tone of the conversations were worried. Some were angry.

Only a small percentage of the people gathered here were not dressed to indicate their obvious social status. Eric watched as Duncan looked at the entire assemblage with obvious distaste. He agreed. Eric himself had found the world of the wealthy, and concerns they valued to be rather shallow.

Duncan walked over to an oddly empty corner. An inky dark shape detached itself from the wall. Eric stiffened, and watched as the others tensed up. He could hear Bobby's knuckles crack as the giant balled his hands up into fists. Thankfully, Terri held his arm.

Shadow Demon.

"Good. You have brought them, and on time. Your reputation does not exaggerate," it said.

"As promised," Duncan answered, "Now, where is my pay?"

The creature handed him a pouch. Duncan opened it, and poured a small portion of the contents into a palm. Diamonds. Duncan put them back into the pouch, and tucked it away.

Bobby snarled at him.

"You work for him? I thought you said Dungeon Master sent you!"

"I work for whomever pays me. The world is harsh," he said mildly, in response to their betrayed expressions. "No, my large friend. I said Dungeon Master was expecting you, and he is. Assuming he still lives, of course. You assumed I was working for Dungeon Master."

"I am not your friend!" Bobby growled.

"Pity, I rather like all of you. But if it makes you feel any better, I did not lie to you at all. You will find his last student here. I have already been told she entered the valley from the east this morning. Of course, convincing her to help you might be a challenge. I hear they are not on speaking terms. Remember what I told you. If you attack me or anyone else, you, your friends, and likely a number of these pompous fools will not leave here alive."

Then he looked over at Shadow Demon. "Well, announce my companions properly, you worthless lackey. The others are waiting to find out who they are."

He grinned at Bobby as Shadow Demon's expression went from being smug to anger at the jibe. Then Duncan deliberately turned his back on Bobby, and disappeared into the crowd.

Shadow Demon looked especially annoyed to be giving them this courtesy. Conversation died to a low hum as Shadow Demon motioned them to the dais.

"The Heroes of the Realm, Pupils of Dungeon Master: The Ranger, The Acrobat, The Cavalier, and The Barbarian, accompanied by his lady."

At this announcement, conversation remained quiet, but the undertone was less frantic. There was a sense of awe, as the crowd looked at them.

Eric watched as Bobby's eyes became wild. Diana stepped in front of Bobby, blocking his movement forward as he approached.

He towered over all of them, including Bobby, and his very presence was still unsettling. The man was huge, but his form was anything but pleasant. He wore a red and black robe and a helmet with only one horn. Large black wings resembling a bat's were folded about his shoulders as if he used them for a cloak. His face was still ghostly pale. He had a regal mien, as if he were a magistrate or prince, stepping forward to pronounce his judgment to those upon the dais. When he stopped, he smiled cruelly at them in greeting, revealing fangs.

Venger.

"Greetings, young ones. We meet again," His voice still had a particular reverberation. He glanced at Bobby casually, but his tone was angry. "Stay your wrath, Barbarian! This is neither the time nor the place for us to resume our...entertainment. That will come in the fullness of time."

Diana shook her head at Bobby. "He's right, Bobby. Not here, not now." Diana stood between Venger and Bobby, forcing them apart. Bobby looked over at Hank. The Ranger's face was twisted, and his eyes were burning with hate, but he shook his head slowly. Eric braced himself for Bobby's towering rage. As if anything from Hank would do any good. If Bobby made up his mind to fight with Venger here, there was no way that all of them together could stop Bobby. You might as well try to stop an avalanche already in motion.

"Listen," Diana said firmly, as she locked eyes with Bobby and refused to back down. "I how you feel about him." She spat the word as if it were the worst curse she could manage. "But if you two fight here, others will suffer for it."

Bobby hesitated for only a moment, before he took a step forward again.

"Sheila loved you," Terri said quietly, "She wouldn't have wanted this."

Venger smiled viciously, as if he was twisting a knife in Bobby's vitals. The mocking laughter in his eyes was daring the Barbarian to try something, anything, but Terri's voice and the mention of his sister's name seemed to hit Bobby with the force of a blow. He recoiled, then glared at his wife in a expression of betrayal. He stopped himself only with supreme effort, then turned around, and stormed off into a far corner, the crowd parting rapidly to let him pass. He shook away Terri's attempts to calm him, ignoring her pleas as she trailed behind in his wake.

Eric felt as angry as Bobby. When Hank had told him that Sheila was dead, he had stood there in stunned silence. She had always been a good friend, regardless of all the times he tormented her. He had given her five years of hell, and then never taken the time to apologize. He still felt guilty about how badly he had treated her, even after all of this time. He let anger from that into his voice.

"What do you want, you bastard? If you have something to say, then say it, and then get the hell out of here."

"I have what I wanted. All of those invited have arrived, but have yet to join us," Venger stated mildly. "Until then, I shall wait, and so shall you."

Over the course of the day, others continued to enter the chamber. Eric didn't recognize any of them. One thing was certain. They all detested Venger with various degrees of loathing and hatred. Some bordered on violence. Shadow Demon announced each of them in turn, by name and position, others by title or rank.

The entire time was nervewracking. What the hell are we doing here, and what is the point of all this?

Try as he might, he couldn't fathom why any group of reasonable, or unreasonable people for that matter, would gather to meet each other here. If what Duncan said was true, and this was neutral ground, even to Venger, then the location was logical enough, but why bother? What was the purpose of a meeting here?

Eric didn't like situations that didn't add up, and this one certainly annoyed him.

Diana joined him, shaking her head.

"No one would even speak to me," she said. "Apparently, arriving in Duncan's company didn't leave us in good standing with these people. Everyone seems to know who he works for." She paused. "Is he going to be all right?"

Eric looked in the direction of Diana's gaze.

"I don't know," he admitted.

Bobby remained isolated on the far side of the room, shunning even the company of his wife. He wouldn't speak to her or to any of the others. He simply stared off into space, with an strangely empty gaze that was even more terrifying to his friends than his anger. He didn't acknowledge anyone, even the archmage.

Venger himself looked entirely unconcerned as the room filled with his enemies. Eric wasn't surprised. If Dungeon Master was truly dying, there was very little in his way. Venger had even deliberately tried to taunt Bobby into breaking the truce that existed here. Obviously, he did not care about what the result might have been.

Hours later, there weren't any more new arrivals. After a brief consultation with his underling, Venger stood on the unoccupied dais.

"Very well, then." Venger boomed grandly. "I give you all this chance to surrender. Do you yield?"

Eric watched as about two thirds of the delegates stepped forward in varying gestures of obeisance and bowed to Venger. They exited the room one by one, to the grumbling of the remainder.

"This is your last chance," he told the rest. He included all of them, but his attention was directed at Eric and the others.

No one else stepped forward.

"So be it, fools!" he thundered, exiting the room with Shadow Demon in tow.

The room became a riot. There were arguments, and shouting. Occasionally, someone pointed in their direction, but no one approached them. Duncan strode out of the crowd.

"The Realm is not what it once was, is it? Dungeon Master's name no longer opens doors for you, does it?" he asked mockingly. "Congratulations, heroes." he said, laughing. "Now you see. Despite all that you ever did for them, they still do not trust you. They do not believe you are who Shadow Demon said you are. Even if they did, it wouldn't matter, and that is probably just as well. Some might chase you down after you leave the valley, and burn you alive for practicing magic. After all, you were last here over one hundred years ago. You should be long dead."

"That's what happened to your family," Terri's voice was quiet, and full of sympathy. It was a statement, not a question. "That's why you hate Presto so much."

"How did you know that?" Duncan's sneer disappeared, and he looked at her angrily, his eyes narrowing, "So... you can use magic. Stay out of my head, witch." His tone was dangerous, and he stepped forward.

Bobby was suddenly there, interposing himself between Duncan and his wife.

"Leave her alone," he said. They stared at each other for a moment, before Duncan withdrew.

"If I were you, I would leave soon, before dark." Duncan turned, and walked out of the meeting place.

"I'm sorry, Terri," he said quietly, looking at the floor. "You were right. Sheila wouldn't have wanted anyone to get hurt."

Terri pulled him close. "It's all right," she said softly.

"How did you know that?" Eric asked her, "About Duncan."

"I dreamed it last night," she answered.

Bobby was puzzled. "I thought you didn't dream about the future anymore."

"I didn't. It was the past. It was horrible." Eric watched as she shook visibly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Bobby asked her.

"I thought it was just a bad dream."

As the day waned, the room was cleared. Everyone was leaving. Duncan left them behind. Whoever they had come to meet had either left without greeting them, or not come at all.


He sensed Shadow Demon long before the wretched creature came up behind him. Duncan could always tell when it was nearby, and he never allowed it a moment of superiority, much to its annoyance.

"Your strategy did not work. Neither came. What does your master want now?" Duncan asked quietly without turning, before Shadow Demon could speak. It tossed another bag of gemstones at his feet.

"He wants you and your men to follow them. Track them down. If they don't have their weapons as you say..."

"Bring them to you?"

"No. He wants no mistakes. They have interfered in his affairs far too often in the past if they are given any quarter. Kill them. Bring back their heads. If you have their weapons, he will triple your price."

He thought of the Barbarian's woman. Her strange blue eyes seemed to look right through him. She had magic, as had Presto. She offered him pity. He did not want it or need it. He did not hate them anymore, but because of them, and the legacy of his forefather, his family was dead. He had no obligations to any of them. His expression became hard. He owed them nothing, and they owed him everything.

"And if they are dead, Dungeon Master or his agents might decide to take revenge on me for my trouble. I want triple now, the same upon return, and triple that again if they do have their weapons."

There was a slight pause. He expected the creature to leave, or worse, to try haggling.

"Agreed," it said. "The remainder of your payment will be delivered by sunrise." Apparently, his excessive demands had been anticipated, and Venger really wanted them dead, regardless of the cost.

"Very well."

He waited until the skulking shadow was gone before he picked up the pouch.

They had left the valley a few hours ago, headed east. They would have to stop to fashion weapons and hunt for food. They had not eaten most of that day, he was certain. At the pace they were probably going to go, he could have them in little more than a week. He would have to wait a few days for the rendezvous with his men, but it could not be helped. Things had not gone as planned. Duncan walked back toward the edge of the valley quickly. It was almost twilight, and the creatures that actually lived here were every bit as unwelcoming as he had told them, especially at night.

Duncan didn't see the slender form that detached itself noiselessly from the shadows. It paused, glancing in his direction before turning east and swiftly disappearing into the trees.