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 6 -- Opening Channels
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no . . . .
It's so dark! Where is everybody?
Bobby? Ayesha? Toby?
John? Uni?
You said you'd be right behind me!
Please don't forget me!
Please don't leave me behind!
Please don't leave me alone in here!
Please, . . . please, . . . please . . . ."
* * *
"What happened here?" As dawn arose, Presto stepped lightly through the abandoned camp outside the walls of Tardos Keep.
"It looks like there was a battle," Hank guessed, keeping his voice low, "But it's hard to tell who won."
The surrounding tents were scattered and torn. Some were singed, some still smoking lightly. Sheila looked around helplessly. "You don't think Bobby and the children were part of this camp, do you?" she asked fretfully. Hank could only frown. Their grim surroundings left little doubt as to whether Teri's vision of the attack on Bobby and the children had, indeed, come to pass.
"Hank! Over here!"
The Ranger ran to the edge of the valley where Diana was hovering over something in the path. "Look," she said as he reached her. Along the ground below them were many sets of footprints leading out of the valley. Diana placed her own boot into one of the extra large prints. "Three guesses who left these. And the first two don't count!"
"Orcs," Hank confirmed. "They must have been trying to attack Tardos again. But what could have happened to make them run away?" The Ranger surveyed the camp again as the others made their way over to where he and the Acrobat were standing.
"I wouldn't be so sure," Diana said as she scrutinized the tracks again. "These Orcs weren't running. They were marching."
"How do you know that?" Eric asked.
Diana smirked at him. "You can't be in sports medicine and not know a thing or two about what it looks like when somebody's running!" she said. "Look at these strides, Eric. They're pretty close together. They would be a lot wider if the Orcs had been running. And they would be a lot more erratic if they had been running for their lives! It looks like they were marching in groups of two or three."
Hank agreed and pointed to them further. "Look how deep the footprints sink into the earth. The Orcs were probably weighed down with supplies, too."
The Cavalier nodded. "So, what, they were moving out? Without taking control of Tardos Keep? Venger certainly wouldn't have stood for that!"
Presto bit his bottom lip. "Unless they got what they came here for," he guessed.
"I know this place," Teri finally spoke up.
"How could you?" Sheila asked as she turned to face the Dreamer. "You were never here with us."
"It was in my dream last night," Teri explained. "This is were I saw Bobby and the others when they were attacked."
"You mean the kids did this?" Presto asked as he glanced about the wrecked camp again. "Oh, Varla!" he breathed.
"They certainly put up one hell of a fight," Diana added. "So, where are they now?"
Hank and the others walked over to Teri and surrounded her. "Maybe you should tell us everything that you saw," he said.
* * *
The Mystic continued to huddle in the darkness of the cave, her knees pulled into her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them. How long had she been there? Hours? It felt like days. Immediately after being trapped within the rock, Varla had been frightened by the sound of explosions and yelling from outside, but had grown even more terrified at the eerie silence that followed; especially when none of her friends appeared to get her out. Her mind reeled with fear, wondering what had happened to them . . . and what would now happen to her.
For a while, she knew she had been hallucinating, imagining that she was back in the closet of her father's house. After a long time, her fitful crying ceased and the young girl fell into a rhythmic rocking. She swayed back and forth, clutching herself to keep from trembling apart.
It was so dark. The kind of dark her eyes couldn't adjust to because there was not even a glint of light. It was night when she was sealed in here, but it had to have reached daytime by now. That thought scared Varla all the more. If all the light was shut out of her prison, would the air be the next to go? The Mystic began taking labored breaths just thinking about it.
Some time ago, she had heard a noise, like a scurrying across the gravel near her. After that, she had remained motionless, in a seated fetal position, not even daring to rock. What could be in here with her? Varla didn't even want to think about the kinds of creatures that must live in this world. Like a child lying frozen in bed, afraid that the slightest movement would call the monsters out from under it, she sat as still as a stone, not wanting to attract the attention of whatever thing might be in the cave with her.
Such was Varla's situation. She couldn't see, she didn't dare move, and soon she wasn't sure if she would still be able to breathe. It seemed the only thing left for her to do . . . was pray.
". . . Oh, Varla!"
A voice cut through the Mystic's thoughts like lightning and her tightly squeezed eyes suddenly flew open. Even though it was still pitch black in the cave, she looked in all directions, her heart in her throat as she frantically searched for the source of the words. Was there someone else in there, too? Or was she really hallucinating now? She must be, because there was no way she could have heard that voice. It was--
"P-Presto?"
Varla willed herself out of the tight ball she had curled herself into. Her voice squeaked as she uttered her adopted father's name – the name she usually called him. Stretching her stiff arms down to her sides, she touched something on the ground beside her. Her fingers immediately recoiled, until she realized that it was her twig-like wand. She wrapped her hand around it and clutched it firmly.
She remembered what Venger had said to her about being naturally touched with magic, about how her father understood that as well, about how confidence in her own abilities was a big part of getting that magic to work. She gripped the wand tightly in both hands. Even though Presto was a world away, she couldn't help but feel that a little bit of his magic was there with her. The same magic that had led her to him after she was taken away from her abusive father; the same magic that had made her time with Presto and Maggie the best of her life; the magic that gave her a family. Varla was determined to get that back. She pointed her wand toward the rocks in front of her and the tip began to glow.
At first, her light-deprived eyes squinted at the dim glow from the wand. It was a thankful sight. Rising to her feet, she concentrated hard on the boulders and what she wanted them to do. She remembered Venger's words as he bestowed the Young Ones' weapons to them: "All of your weapons possess great strength. You will discover that they have many uses, limited only by your own will and heart." Right now, Varla willed the rocks to move. She knew it could be done, but she hadn't been able to use the wand effectively yet. Who am I kidding? It's hardly worked at all! she thought. But it was her only chance.
A slight rumble filled the cave and startled Varla. Her concentration wavered as her stomach did a flip-flop. The light from her wand died down. The Mystic felt momentarily defeated. She didn't have the strength to do this. But, with no one else here and no idea as to what had happened to her friends outside, her own strength was all she had. If she ever wanted to see Presto and Maggie again, she had to do this! Varla dug her feet into the earth and locked her elbows as she pointed her wand toward the boulders once more. It began to glow a second time.
"Come on!" she muttered, "Open sesame!"
This time, as the rumbling began again, Varla held on to her concentration and pressed harder with her spell. She grit her teeth, but still felt that it wasn't enough. She needed help. "Presto! . . . Daddy!" she prayed as sweat ran down her temples, "Please, help me!" Her grip on her wand tightened as a bright light filled the chamber.
* * *
Presto's face blanched suddenly and he teetered a bit on his feet. Hank reached out to grab him. "You okay, pal?" the Ranger asked as Presto tried to steady himself.
"I-I think," the Magician answered, shaking his head.
"What happened?" Sheila said with concern.
"I don't know," Presto replied as the others turned to him. "It was really weird. I felt something in my head . . . like pain, or a struggle, or a cry for help . . . and then I just didn't have the power to stand anymore." Presto managed to straighten up, but Hank kept a hold on his friend. "The last time I felt something like that," Presto added, "It was with--"
The Magician was cut off as a loud explosion echoed through the canyon. Off to the right, part of the rock wall had blown away, scattering pieces of boulder like shrapnel through Tardos Valley. The Young Ones' weapons glowed brightly as, after the initial duck-and-cover reflex prompted by the explosion, they advanced on the newly formed cave in the canyon wall. A small figure stumbled out of it and onto the ground.
Presto's eyes suddenly became wide as saucers. He wrenched himself out of Hank's grip and broke into an awkward run toward the prone figure. "Varla!" he shouted.
He slid to his knees beside his daughter and turned her over. She didn't appear conscious. Preston Myers, the doctor, checked Varla quickly for injuries before Preston Myers, the father, was able to sweep the girl up into his arms with a grateful gasp. "Thank God, thank God, thank God . . . ." he repeated over and over as he clutched her tightly to him.
The others gathered around him. Eric placed a hand on Presto's shoulder as the Magician gently rocked the dazed Varla. "Is she okay?" he asked.
Presto nodded without looking up. "She's exhausted," he answered. "Completely drained. But she's not hurt."
Eric felt some relief at that. But part of him, for as happy as he was that his best friend had his daughter back, couldn't bury the anxiety that bubbled up within him at noticing that the rest of the kids had not followed Varla out of the cave. His own son was nowhere to be found.
Varla whimpered weakly and Presto released her a bit. As the Mystic's eyes slowly opened, they blearily began to focus on the face in front of her. She gazed first at the green, conical hat, then at the wire-rimmed glasses, then at the golden eyes behind the lenses . . . .
A feeble squeak sounded from the young girl's throat and her own eyes welled up with tears as she studied Presto's face. "Daddy?" she asked, forming her question as though she half expected him to disappear any second.
Presto pulled her into another firm hug, relief washing over him like a deluge. He smiled joyfully. Varla, after all, had only been living with he and his wife for a little over a year and usually called him 'Presto,' like Maggie did. But not today. "Hey, Princess," he whispered, "Daddy's here. Everything's going to be okay now." He stroked Varla's red hair as she threw her arms around his neck and began to sob on his shoulder. "I'll tell you what, though," he added with a smile, "You and I are going to have a little talk later about how you ditched your mother back at the park!"
After a few minutes, Varla pulled away from Presto. "How did you get here? How did you find me?"
Eric answered that one. "Piece of cake, Kiddo. I got on the horn and called Dial-A-Portal and--"
Diana elbowed Eric in the ribs. "Shhh, Cavalier," she warned, "Not now."
Presto sighed. "The park," he said, "The Dungeons and Dragons ride. Just like you."
Varla sat up and, for the first time, scrutinized Presto's clothing, along with those of the others. "So this is what you looked like!" she said with a smile. "Bobby said--"
"Varla," Sheila cut in as she knelt down beside the girl, placing a tender hand on her shoulder, "Where are Bobby and the others?"
Varla suddenly looked frightened again as she glanced around the demolished campsite. "We were supposed to meet allies here," she began. "At least that was what Venger -- er -- Dungeon Master said. Bobby thought that Queen Sulinara would be able to help us."
Hank nodded as he looked toward Tardos Keep. "So let's ask her," he said as he began to stride past Varla toward the edifice.
The Mystic grabbed the bottom hem of his tunic as he walked past. "No!" she pleaded in a hushed whisper.
"What is it?" Presto asked.
"The only thing in that fortress is more of those horrible, green, pig things!"
"Orcs," the Ranger said hotly. "Someone finally succeeded at taking the Keep!"
"One of those three new threats, no doubt," Diana added. She raised her staff, which hummed with a jade-green glow, and wondered why, if the new enemy had taken control of Tardos, hadn't anyone been sent out here to attack them. Something must be going on inside.
"What happened to the others, Varla?" Eric began coaxing, a bit impatiently. "Where's John?"
The Mystic's eyes filled with tears again at her inability to answer that question. "I don't know," she admitted. "The last thing I remember is Toby yelling at me to get inside the cave. Then the entrance came crashing down before they could follow me in. I heard a lot of shouting and explosions, but I didn't see anything after that. I-I'm sorry." Presto held his daughter again as she began to cry.
Teri had listened carefully to as much of the story as Varla had been able to tell. It was so eerily familiar, she could have filled in the rest as though recalling events from a movie. "Everyone?" she said quietly to get their attention. Some of the color drained from the Dreamer's cheeks as she realized that her vision had been right. "Varla may not have seen what happened, but I did!"
* * *
Varla's eyes remained transfixed on Teri as the Dreamer relayed the events that had occurred in her dream; everything that had happened while Varla was trapped inside the cave. The Mystic shuddered at the idea that her greatest fear had saved her. Being trapped in the blackness of that cave was the only thing that had kept her from being taken by one of those evil creatures like the rest of her friends. Even though she was very afraid for them, she felt more confident now that Presto and the others were here. They must have been the allies that Venger had said they would find. Varla had the feeling that her father would make everything all right now.
The group had moved out of Tardos Valley so as to avoid being seen from the Keep. If what Varla said was true and Tardos had been taken by the Realm's new force of evil, there was a good chance that they could be spotted, if they weren't being watched already. They sat on the ground and listened to the Dreamer's narration.
"So," Eric said after Teri finished, "Where are they now?"
Teri shook her head. "I didn't see that in my dream, Eric," she answered regretfully. "I can only see what's going to happen or what might happen, not what's going on right now." Her eyes welled up again as her mind replayed the vision of what had happened to Bobby.
"Great!" the Cavalier wailed, "We know they're gone, but we don't know where! Man! I never thought I say this, but what I wouldn't give for one of DM's stupid riddles right now! At least then we would have something . . . anything . . . to help us find our kids!"
Varla looked from Eric to Presto, who was sitting beside her. "Maybe I can help," she said.
Presto stared at her, wide-eyed. He had just realized that he had never inquired as to what kind of weapon or power each of the new Young Ones had received from Venger. "How're you going to do that?" he asked.
Varla held up her crooked wand. "Magic, I guess," she said.
* * *
"A Mystic?" Presto asked after his daughter had finished briefly explaining what had happened to them so far. "You're telepathic?"
Varla nodded.
"So that was you I heard calling out to me right before the cave blew open," he mused further. When his daughter nodded again, Presto smiled. "The last thing I remember thinking before Hank had to grab me was that I wanted to help whoever it was that was calling to me."
"Varla must have been able to borrow some of your power," Sheila said. "That's very impressive!"
"I just don't know if it will be enough to find the others," Varla confessed sadly. "Venger said that I already had the ability, and that being in the Realm would strengthen it." She looked at Presto. "Like you. He said you could teach me. Can you, Presto? I don't think I can do it without you."
The Magician looked surprised. "I don't know, Honey," he said. "I never did any real magic until after I got this hat . . . and even then it didn't always work right."
"Now, don't you go falling back into that old attitude, Presto!" Diana said. "You know your magic always worked better when you believed in it!"
"Venger said that, too," Varla added. "He said that confidence in one's ability has a lot to do with it."
"Besides," Hank said to Presto, "You know quite well that you don't need your hat to do magic. Remember when you banished the dragons from the town of Helix?"
Presto was forced to smile. Although his original plan was to encourage Varla so she wouldn't make his initial mistake of not believing in herself, the memories of the times that his magic had actually worked also succeeded at building up his own assurance.
"Thanks, guys," he said with a grateful wink as he put an arm around Varla. He looked down at the girl. "I know you can do it too, Honey," he said, giving her a gentle squeeze. "You sure made short work of that cave!"
The Mystic contorted her face disappointedly. "I really just wanted to move the rocks, not blow them up. I still don't have a lot of control over what I do."
"So, you don't just read minds," Eric guessed.
Varla shook her head. "I guess this wand allows my mind to channel what I want certain objects to do," she said as she held up the dainty stick. "I can move things, apparently I can blow stuff up . . . . Venger said that the weapons had all kinds of uses; we just have to figure out what they are."
Eric nudged Presto. "She can read thoughts and move stuff with her mind," he announced dramatically. "Better watch, buddy, you've got a regular Jean Grey on your hands!"
Presto cocked an eyebrow at the Cavalier. "Never did grow out of those comics, did you, Eric?"
"They're classics, thank you very much!" Eric retorted with a triumphant air.
"Ah, yes! The all-time literary greats!" Diana chortled, "William Shakespeare, J. D. Salinger, Robert Frost, . . . and Mr. Stan Lee!"
Eric flashed an impressed smile. "I see you know his work!" Diana rolled her eyes in response and turned back to Varla.
"What about the others, Varla?" she asked. "What kind of weapons did they get?" There was some worry in that question. Although it could have been asked merely as a curiosity, the Acrobat wanted some assurance that the children could take care of themselves until she and the others could find them.
"Venger called Toby a 'Fighter' and gave him a magic whip," Varla began, "Bobby has the same club that, I guess, he had before. Ayesha is a 'Paladin' and she has a light sword, and--" The Mystic stopped suddenly. Her eyes had settled on Eric, or more specifically, at the shield on the ground at his side. "I know that," she said softly.
The Cavalier followed her glare and picked up his shield. "What? This?"
Varla reached forward and touched the griffin in the center. "John was wearing this," she explained, "On his tunic. And he has a medallion around his neck that creates an invincible barrier. It has this symbol on it, too." She looked the Cavalier in the eye. "He must be your Squire!"
"He's a what?" Eric asked.
"A Squire," Varla answered.
Eric laughed slightly. "I think the new DM's got his signals crossed," he said. "I always imagined 'John Harlan Montgomery, Esquire,' but not 'John Harlan Montgomery, the Squire'!" A corner of his mouth turned upward at his lighthearted attempt at a joke, but his voice betrayed the fact that Eric was very worried about his son. He swallowed hard.
Hank placed a hand on his shoulder. "What do you say we try this, then?" he said as he turned to Varla. The girl looked, a bit self-consciously, at the rest of them before gripping her wand and closing her eyes, trying to focus. After a few seconds, she opened them again. "I don't feel anything," she whispered apologetically. "I don't think I can do this."
"Yes, you can, Varla," Presto urged.
"I can't," the girl said with a catch in her throat.
Presto's voice was suddenly stern. "You can do this, Varla," he said. "You did it in that cave back in the valley before you even knew that I was here! You believed in yourself and you did it!" The Magician's tone then softened as he closed his fist around her hands as they gripped the magic wand. "I'm right here with you. I know you can do this," he repeated as he squeezed her hands gently.
The Mystic nodded and closed her eyes a second time. The tip of the wand began to glow with a soft light as her mind searched for the others. After a few minutes, she heard something. "Help me please, young Mystic!"
Varla was startled, but didn't break her concentration. "Who is that?" She didn't recognize the voice. A melodious woman's voice. "Do I know you?"
"No, I suppose you wouldn't know my voice, child, but I have been with you throughout your journey."
"Uni? Is that you?"
"Indeed, Varla."
"You can talk?"
"I am not really speaking, Mystic. You are reading my thoughts. Not even Bobby has ever heard me like this."
"Where are you, Uni? Presto and his friends are here with me. We'll come find you!"
"I am being held captive inside Tardos Keep by the creature Bane. He is the Dark Lord of the Plague and has ravaged much of the Realm with his poison. He began his conquest here at Tardos by wreaking havoc on their crop of Dragonbane and has since spread his evil throughout the rest of the Realm."
"Did he hurt you?"
"He has not harmed me yet. But he desires a steed for himself -- and he wishes to claim the Dungeon Master's mount as his own. He is making preparations now and plans to infect me with his poison as well. I am bound by a magical tether that prevents me from teleporting. Please, Varla, you and your friends must help me!"
"What about the others? Where are they?"
"Your friends have been taken by Bane's consociates. Toby and John are being held by Mordreth, the Dark Lord of Destruction, in a reconstruction of Venger's former fortress to the West. Mordreth has annihilated countless cities of the Realm and slaughtered thousands who have stood against him without the slightest hesitation. He was created from the depths of the Nameless One's mind that desires only to reap death for His own pleasure.
"Bobby and Ayesha are to the South, captives in the Citadel of War. Their abductor is named Kadysse, a vile witch and wicked siren. She has caused a myriad of wars by seducing the minds of warriors, inducing them to fight for her. Kingdoms that have remained allies for centuries are destroying each other in her name every day. Each of your friends are in tremendous peril, Varla! You and the others must help them!"
"How, Uni? And how can we reach you? Tell me!" Varla was met only with silence. "Uni?" She opened her eyes and looked at the others. "I've lost her," she said.
"Lost who?" Sheila asked. Varla realized that the conversation had occurred within her own mind and that the others had not heard it.
"Uni," she answered, "She's a prisoner of one of those evil creatures inside Tardos Keep."
"Oh, so we'll have the runty unicorn tagging along again!" Eric grumbled. "That animal was never anything but trouble!"
"Well," Varla offered, "She did manage to tell me where the others are!"
Eric shrugged affirmatively. "Like I said, I love that little critter!" He gave a taut chuckle as his friends eyed him amusedly.
"So, Varla," Hank prompted, turning back to the Mystic, "Where can we find the others?"
As Varla explained what Uni had conveyed to her, Sheila's face became more and more worried. "Good Lord, Hank," she breathed, "What are we going to do?"
"I'll tell you what I'm doing," Eric announced as he rose to his feet, "I'm going West . . . after my son."
Diana rose up to stand beside him. "We're heading West, you mean!" she asserted. "Toby is there, too!"
Hank nodded in reluctant agreement. "You're right, Eric," he said to the Cavalier, "We need to split up. Sheila and I will head South for Bobby and Ayesha."
"And me!" Teri chimed in.
"It's going to be too dangerous, Teri," Hank protested, "And you don't have a weap--"
"I don't care, Hank," the Dreamer insisted, "I refuse to stand by and do nothing when Bobby needs my help!"
"Bobby will never forgive me if you get hurt," Hank warned.
Teri's eyes sparked like flint at the Ranger. "You didn't see what happened to him like I did, Hank," she said, almost in a growl. "I will not play the helpless girlfriend! He made a huge sacrifice for me the last time I was here. I refuse to do less for him! I'm going!"
Hank stood silent for a moment before reluctantly yielding. "Okay, Teri," he said softly.
Varla glanced imploringly up at her father. "Somebody has to stay here and help Uni," she said to Presto. "Bane is going to try and cast some awful spell on her!"
Presto draped an arm across her shoulders and looked at Hank. "We'll stay," he said.
The Ranger looked at the suns in the sky. "Okay then," he said, "We have enough light to make some good distance." He slipped an arm around Sheila's waist as they looked to the South. "We'll find them," he promised her.
Diana and Eric took leave of everyone and began making their way West. The Cavalier turned to raise a hand of good luck to Presto and Varla, then walked along beside the Acrobat. "Do you think they'll be okay?" he asked.
"Are you kidding?" Diana said, "This is your son and my nephew we're talking about! I'm sure they can handle it till we get there!"
Eric felt some reassurance at this and walked for a few more seconds in silence.
"Of course," Diana began again, "This is your son and my nephew we're talking about!"
"What are you getting at?" Eric inquired.
"Well," Diana explained with a wry smile, "I'm sure, with those weapons they were given, they can take on any Orc or random 'force-of-evil' that this Realm throws at them . . . . That is, if they don't kill each other, first!"
* * *
Before Bobby even opened his eyes, he felt the surge of pain remnant from the attack at Tardos. Even though the intense ache was still there, flooding his body, he still had to think for a moment about what had happened; as though the pain wasn't truly real until he remembered how he had come by it.
It didn't take long.
Ayesha! he thought. What had happened to her? Was she all right? Did she manage to escape? Worrying about his niece didn't make his present condition any more bearable, but it did help the Barbarian to focus on something other than his own physical agony.
As he fought his way back to consciousness, Bobby became aware of the fact that he was in a standing position, his arms bound, stretched apart on either side of his body. That certainly didn't help ease the pain either. He struggled momentarily to finally open his eyes.
"Back to join the realm of consciousness, I see!"
Bobby's eyes opened fully at the sound of the voice. He managed to lift his drooped head and gaze at the person in front of him who had just spoke. He recognized her the moment he laid eyes on her . . . although the woman before him looked very different now than she had back at Tardos Keep.
She had the same fiery red hair, the same golden feline eyes. But now, instead of armor, she wore a midnight black gown. The dress seemed to suit such a beguiling, and yet such a dark, woman. The bodice was low cut and covered with a sheer, web-like shawl that laid over it and extended down her arms to form pointed sleeves. The open weave of it was almost as though it could have been woven by Lloth, the demon spider queen herself. The bottom half of the dress clung closely to the woman's body and revealed much of her leg to her upper thigh as she took a deliberate step toward Bobby. Her eyes met his and the young man shivered involuntarily.
"I am glad, Barbarian, to see you finally awake," she said, her voice just as soft and alluring as Bobby remembered.
"How do you know me?" he labored, a groan of pain still present in his voice.
She held her eyes on him and stepped forward again, her lips parting slightly before speaking. "My Master knows you," she whispered in a voice that was strangely both husky and soft, "And your friends. Quite well, in fact." She turned to step to the side of him, but kept visual contact through lidded eyes. "I have been looking forward to meeting you for some time."
Bobby narrowed his eyes at the woman, but was unable to break his gaze entirely. "Who are you?" he asked.
"I am Kadysse," she replied with a slight smile, "Someone you shall come to know quite well, Barbarian."
Bobby ignored her. "Where's Ayesha?" he demanded.
Kadysse tossed her flowing mane as she took another step toward the manacled Barbarian. "Do not trouble yourself over the whereabouts of the girl," she said. "There are far more important things for you and I to discuss."
Bobby managed to tear his eyes away from her and look to the chains that bound him. They were glowing with a golden magic. He jerked his arms in a futile attempt to free them before looking back at Kadysse. "What do you want?" he asked.
The woman raised an amused eyebrow and slowly curled a corner of her mouth upward. Bobby felt an intense pain in his head and stifled an agonized grunt through gritted teeth. He felt himself drifting out again. "I thought that would be obvious, Barbarian," she hissed, her voice far away as her amber eyes flashed. "I want you!"
* * *
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To be continued . . . .