Disclaimer: Since its development in 1983, the animated series Dungeons and Dragons has belonged to the following at some point: Marvel Productions, TSR, Inc., Wizards of the Coast, Saban Entertainment, (according to rumor) Disney, and possibly even others. I guess my point is, it does not (nor has it ever) belonged to me. Oh, well! This story, however, does! I hope you enjoy it!
Rating: PG-13 for some language and violent elements
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LEGACYChapter 4 -- Rebirth
"Bobby!"
Teri saw him. And the four children. They were walking away from her; emerging from the surrounding canyon and into the vastness of the Realm beyond. She ran to catch up, crying out to him again.
They didn't stop. They didn't turn. They walked on, not seeming to hear her at all. They were walking -- proudly and slowly -- toward the unknown. And no matter how fast Teri ran behind them, she couldn't seem to catch up. Couldn't seem to let them know that she was there. In fact, the faster she ran, the farther away from them she seemed to get as the image before her started to cloud into a blurry haze.
"Bobby!"
When Teri awoke, she found herself on the hard ground, the canyon walls from her dream surrounding her. She looked around for Bobby and the children, knowing full well from the vision she had just had that they had already gotten a head start. In fact, they were most likely a good way ahead of her right now. If she and the others wanted to find them, they had to start moving. But first they needed to learn where they needed to go.
It took a few extra minutes for the minds of the others to focus on the task at hand. They had spent far longer in the Realm than Teri had, and they clearly needed more adjusting to the fact that they were back.
The ride had been difficult for all of them. For a few minutes, it had seemed as though nothing would happen at all, and they had all become very afraid by that point. What if the portal that Bobby and the children had entered was the only one? What if the rest of them couldn't get back to the Realm? Sheila had taken both Hank's and Teri's hands tightly as the car rounded the last bend; almost willing the gateway to appear.
It did . . . and the rest of the ride was a blur.
Diana staggered to her feet and looked around. For a moment, she wished she had taken Hank's cue and called her brother. He deserved to know what had happened to his son. But T.J. would never believe this. He hadn't believed her the first time she tried to tell both him and her younger brother, Matthew, sixteen years ago. If he couldn't understand then, he wouldn't now. Besides, if what she remembered about the time difference between Earth and the Realm was true, then wasting precious minutes back home meant wasting even more precious hours here. Perhaps even a day.
As she continued to scan the landscape, Diana noticed that her friends were dressed to assume the former roles that they had filled over sixteen years ago. Hank was wearing his familiar green tights and shirt with the studded leather tunic. Sheila had on her former pink dress with thigh-high boots. Presto wore the green magician robe and slippers, which were still oversized, although not as bad as before. Eric was donning the chain mail, golden armor, and crimson cape of his Cavalier alter ego. Diana, herself, had on her pelted two-piece, garnished with golden jewelry. Something very important was missing from each of their costumes, however. Neither she nor her friends had their weapons.
The only one wearing unfamiliar clothing was Teri; as the last time she had remained in her Earth clothes. Now, however, she had on a simple lightweight blue tunic, the hem of which extended to mid-thigh. The frock was gathered and belted at the waist, giving it the appearance of a short dress. Underneath, was a pair of brown leggings tucked into boots of the same color.
"How is everybody?" Hank asked as he helped Sheila to her feet and held her hands as they surveyed their surroundings.
"Scrambled!" Eric groaned, shakily rising to his feet as well. "You'd think that after all we did for him the last time, the Magic Midget could drop us somewhere soft for a change! Why is it always into the Not-So-Grand-Canyon?"
Presto adjusted his glasses and looked around. "Where is Dungeon Master anyway? Shouldn't he be getting here with our weapons, like soon!"
"Coward's probably afraid of what I was gonna do to him when I got here," Eric grumbled, cracking his knuckles. "Yo! DM!" he called out, his voice bouncing off the rocks, "Come out, come out wherever you are!" When he received no reply, Eric tried again, "Get out here and give us some answers, you creepy little . . . little . . . !"
Teri turned as Eric's voice changed from threatening to threatened. He was backing nervously away from something. The girl screamed upon seeing what it was. Everyone else spun around as well.
Hank's fingers instinctively twitched, trying to reach for the bowstring of a weapon that he didn't even have. His friends seemed to have a similar reaction; a mixture of shock, panic, and defensiveness -- because the sight that met their eyes was not the Dungeon Master that they remembered.
"Welcome, Young Ones," the towering figure said with a strangely peaceful smile. "I have been eagerly awaiting your return."
* * *
Hank and the others were just as suspicious of the new Dungeon Master as Bobby had been. Even though they had seen him revert back to his original noble self with their own eyes, what had felt like years of squaring off against him had not been forgotten, and had not passed without leaving many scars. They glared incredulously at him as he notified them as to his assumption of the title, Dungeon Master of the Realm. Each one became increasingly unnerved at the idea that the old Dungeon Master would not be with them.
This new Dungeon Master looked very different; and not just because of his larger size or younger age. Where the Young Ones had previously dealt with the riddles of an amiable old man in whimsical red robes, this one had more of a sovereign appearance than that of a mystic mage.
Venger was dressed as a noble warrior, his former garb of gray and red replaced by a more regal gray and black. His body was surrounded by mounds of billowing material that moved with him as he walked and seemed to befit his new station. The jagged bat wings he once wore were now a full and flowing black cloak, and his head was now topped with a long, formal hood where the horned helmet had been. He looked prepared for a valiant battle, even though the Young Ones always knew the Dungeon Master's role to be more of a guide than a warrior. (In fact, they had never known their old guide to interfere in their quests at all -- unless, of course, a force happened to appear that threatened the existence of the entire Realm.)
Venger was, indeed, a sharp contrast to the Dungeon Master of the past . . . except that, on the front of his cloak, he was wearing Dungeon Master's old crystal amulet.
As the reformed Venger relayed his story, Diana nudged Eric with her shoulder. "Didn't you say something about wanting to 'throttle that riddle-blabbing pipsqueak,' Cavalier?" she whispered. "Here's your chance!"
Eric stepped forward, clearing his throat nervously. "Listen, Venger," he said, "Congratulations on becoming the new Chairman of the Board and all, but there's really only one thing we want to know." He glanced back at Diana, who raised an amused eyebrow at his inability to follow through on his previous threat.
"Where are Bobby and our kids?" Hank asked, completing Eric's thought.
"The Barbarian and the others have begun their journey," Venger replied. "I did not inform them of your arrival because I was not certain as to when that would be. But now that you are here, they will need your help. Time grows short and the threat to our world grows stronger every day."
"What kind of threat?" Presto asked. "Something worse than you were?" He immediately cringed at his own words, but Venger did not appear fazed.
"Three times worse, Magician," the Dungeon Master answered as he repeated the words he had mentally conveyed to Varla earlier, "You must stop this new threat to the Realm. A new evil force that has been created by the One that is as old as time itself."
Hank stiffened at those words. He recognized the implications of that description. "So He's back," the Ranger muttered. "He Who Can't Be Named is back. Just like Dungeon Master said He would be."
Venger nodded gravely. "Astute as always, Ranger," he commented, something that Hank wasn't used to coming from Venger. "Although I wish for the world that you were wrong. However, when the Nameless One lost His champion, the being once known as 'Venger,' He set about creating a new one . . . three to be exact. Three creatures of great power, who have conquered much of the Realm already. However, unlike Venger, they do not wish to rule the Realm; they wish only to devastate it -- and leave it for their Master."
Presto looked confused. "Why wait this long?" he asked. "I mean, you said yourself that we defeated you over two hundred years ago -- 'Realm-time,' that is. Why would No-Name wait until now to get His revenge?"
"You forget, Magician," the Dungeon Master informed them, settling himself on a nearby rock, "That the Nameless One is as old as time itself. Eons pass like minutes for such a being."
"So," Eric mused as he came to stand in front of the seated Dungeon Master, "You're telling us that there are three of these things."
"Yes, three," Venger replied.
"And that would make them three times more powerful than you were."
"That is correct, Cavalier."
Eric nodded his head in understanding. Then, without another word, he let loose a balled fist and struck Venger across the jaw with as much force as he could muster. The former Archmage tottered on the rock just a bit, seeming more startled than hurt. After overcoming their shock, Hank and Diana raced forward to hold Eric back from doing anything else. The Cavalier cradled his fist into his chest, swearing sharply under his breath. Judging by the look on his face, he had done more damage to his hand than to Venger, but the young man's anger more than made up for it.
"Three times more powerful than you were, and you take our CHILDREN to fight them!" Eric wrenched himself free of Hank's and Diana's grip, but did not advance on Venger again. "You son of a bitch!" he growled as he backed away. Sheila tried to place a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged her off.
The Young Ones each felt a painful knot in the pits of their stomachs as they dumbly watched what had happened. They knew that Venger had reclaimed his goodness, but they couldn't forget that they had known him at his worst. None of them knew how volatile he might be . . . nor did they ever want to find out.
For his part, Venger merely sighed as though he had expected this -- or at least a reaction like it. "Contrary to what you may believe, Cavalier," he said patiently, "I did not steal your children away from you, nor did I plan to use them as bait to lure you back here. This world is in terrible peril. Your own may be as well, should the Realm fall. The increased strength of this new force of evil requires an even greater force of good to counter it. The Realm's former champions were needed again, but six pure hearts would not have been enough this time. Your virtuous spirits, and the ones that live on through your children, are the only things that can defeat the new threat to this land."
"Venger?" Hank asked. He felt a bit foolish referring to the new Dungeon Master by his old name; a name that should have died along with the evil that had once been inside of him. But neither Hank, nor the rest of the Young Ones, could seem to be able to call him anything else. Venger, however, made no move to correct any of them; perhaps leaving it as a penitent reminder of what he had once been. "What can you tell us about these evil beings?" Hank concluded his question.
"Yeah," Eric called from his side of the canyon, where he had stationed himself on a rock, still holding his sore hand, "And none of that riddling mumbo-jumbo that your dad used to pull on us! Give it to us straight!"
"The beings are not inhabitants of the Realm who were turned to evil as I was," Venger began. "They were created directly by the Nameless One from His own essence for the strict purpose of destroying and subjugating this world."
"Not that I'm daring Him or anything," Eric said, "But if What's-His-Name is so powerful, why doesn't He just do His own dirty work? From what DM told us the last time, He could do it just like that," he added with a snap of his fingers.
Venger shook his head. "He Whose Name Must Not Be Spoken is unmitigated evil, Cavalier," he answered. "Evil does not thrive on quick and painless conquests, but on fear and chaos. He can not feel satisfaction if He does not cause suffering -- which He seeks to do through these three new creatures."
Teri thought back to her dream from the night before, remembering how she saw who she now knew to be Bobby and the four children facing the towering figure surrounded by smoke and fire. At first, she had thought the figure was Venger. Now, however, she thought it might be one of these new creatures . . . or perhaps even a representation of the Nameless One, Himself. She remembered what Bobby had told her about 'Him' after returning from the Realm. Thinking of the dream scared her again. It could be a premonition of what might happen if she and the others didn't reach Bobby and the children in time. Teri became even more frantic to find them.
"Each evil force specializes in a particular branch of destruction," Venger continued. "There are parts of the Realm that have gone barren with pestilence because of the workings of one. Wars have broken out between once peaceful nations due to the influence of another. The third simply unleashes havoc wherever he my ride, causing more death and destruction than even the Warduke ever could. They quickly work their way across the Realm, and shall soon overtake it entirely."
Hank looked ponderous. "I know that description," he said. "There are cultures back home that have the same legends. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse is similar to this."
"Yeah," Presto agreed, "I remember reading about that."
"Um, news flash, Mr. History!" Eric interjected to Hank, "That's an Earth legend! And this isn't just another culture! We're in another wacko dimension!"
"Eric, there are cultures back home that sprouted up hundreds, even thousands, of miles away from each other and yet, somehow managed to have the same types of stories," Hank informed him. "Take the Native American Indians, for example . . . ."
"Here we go!" Eric grumbled, pounding his forehead repeatedly with the heel of his palm.
"There were tribes that existed on opposite coastlines that, somehow, developed the same themes in their creation stories. Even some religions have the same basis for their beliefs. Hinduism and Christianity both believe in a divine trinity and even have similar stories about how one part of that trinity was born on Earth as a man."
"He's right, Eric," Sheila said, nodding toward Hank.
The Cavalier looked up from his sarcastic pummeling of himself. "Look, Ginger," he said to her, "You and the Professor here might love having these historical conversations at home, but I took the class three times in high school! Do you think maybe he can spare us the lecture! I wanna find my kid! Nothing he has to say has anything to do with what we're facing!"
"Sure it does!" Diana said. "If different cultures can have similar stories, why can't different dimensions?"
"Besides," Presto added, "Merlin was an Earth legend, but here he was a real guy! There are things about this place that we just . . . understood when we got here . . . and we couldn't explain why! Dragons, unicorns, griffins, giants -- none of that exists on our world. We don't have any magic either. But when we saw a unicorn or a dragon for the first time, did we have to ask what it was? No! We already knew!"
"There's a link between our worlds. Even a subconscious one. Just like there seems to be a link between cultures back home," Hank concluded.
"One of those links," Venger finally added, "Is the Nameless One, Himself. Part of the reason His name is not uttered is because He goes by many . . . in many different worlds." Hank nodded. He knew that. Dungeon Master had told them years ago.
"All cultures fear 'the end' no matter what world you come from," Hank said. "And one of the legendary harbingers of that 'end' tells the story of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. It may not be the exact same story here, but it sounds like it has some similarities. They're described just as Venger said: Famine, War, Death, and--"
"And that's only three!" Eric interrupted. "Should we be looking out for another one?"
Hank paused thoughtfully. "I think . . . ," he said, "Maybe there are only three . . . because we've already beaten one." He turned and glared at Venger. "According to the legend, the first 'horseman' . . . was 'Conquest.'"
* * *
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Author's Notes: The legend of the Four Horsemen is a part of the lore of many cultures (from Babylon to the Bible to even the Marvel Universe, itself -- as used in X-Men). The events in this story will not really be a re-imagining of that legend, but simply a method of adding characterization to the newest forces of evil in the Realm.
Thank You: Special thanks to Kimmy for the additional proofreading help, the encouragement and endless supply of kind words, and for always keeping shelf space open for me in your wonderful Darkhaven library!
And finally . . .
For Matt, who really could have been Diana's younger
brother. (1986-2001)
God bless.